I finish putting on the third coat of mascara and check that my French braid is straight. I slip on my four-inch stilettos and check myself one final time in the mirror. I straighten my belt, smooth out the skirt of my short dress, and decide I am as ready as I am going to be.

Let me catch you up, in case you are new to my story. My name is Paige Fitzsimmons (officially now) and I am a girl in transition. My ‘official status’ is transgender—although, technically, that is not accurate. I was tricked into transitioning by my ALMOST stepdad (I’ll get to him in a bit) at a camp for all things LGBT. It has been four weeks since the ‘post-camp’ activities concluded and now it is time for me to register at school as a ‘transgendered’ girl for my junior year of high school.

I mentioned Allen, my ALMOST stepdad. Well, he is now officially ‘Misty’, my Momma’s lifetime personal assistant. I guess I should say, he is currently being shared by Momma and Angi. Angi is my doctor in all things transitioning and the one that inserted the experimental implant into me that makes it impossible to ever go back to being Vick, my alter-ego and ‘true’ identity.

To be fair, it wasn’t Angi’s fault that I am now stuck on the course to womanhood and I don’t hold it against her, at all—which is good, since she and Momma are now acting more like a teenage couple than Francie, my girlfriend, and I are!

Anyway, back to ‘Misty’, he is being feminized by Momma and Angi as his punishment for trying to take over my late father’s company. I don’t actually condone this punishment, but understand that he can’t be allowed to go about tricking innocent children into changing their genders to fit his wicked purposes.

I haven’t seen a LOT of Misty the last four weeks. It seems he is in ‘time out’ in his room (our guest house) a fair bit—his attitude DOES seem to be changing, though; especially towards me. As for his evil scheme to take over the company—well that all stemmed from the old board of directors that was TOTALLY male-centric.

Things have changed there at the firm, as well. Momma crafted a merger with a European company and that forced a wholesale change of members on the board. It is now MUCH more friendly towards women—and Momma is fully in charge. The thing is, while she is in charge, she doesn’t have to spend every minute of her life ‘on the job’…it seems she is a pure genius when it comes to managing (and delegating) and that is supported by the ‘new guard’ on the board…

Anyway, now you are pretty well caught up and I need to get downstairs. I am sure that Angi is chomping at the bit to get me to school and get me registered. She is going instead of Momma, because she has to certify that I am ‘transgendered’, which I still think is stupid…

I gracefully navigate my way down the stairs in my heels—after WEEKS of ‘Pink’ training, I could do it in six-inch heels and blind-folded. Angi is almost to the point of tapping her toes and is impatiently waiting for me.

She looks at me and just smiles, though. She says, “You look VERY nice, Love! You’ll knock ‘em dead at school—just be careful, the ‘popular’ crowd can be very jealous and very MEAN.”

I roll my eyes and say, “I have NO intention of going up against the popular girls. You know me… I’m just a Pink…”

Angi giggles and says, “You make my point for me… Anyway, let’s go or we’ll be late!”

Just as we get into Angi’s Porsche my phone plays a short blast of ‘Tiny Dancer’. I quickly read the message and Angi asks, “News from Francie?”

I nod and say, “She’s getting her schedule now. I can’t believe she’s actually gone off to college…and I still have two years of high school to go.”

Angi starts the car and backs out of the garage. As she puts it in first gear, she says, “Well, she’s only a little over an hour away and she did graduate early…a testament to her school. Are you SURE you don’t want to go there, or to ANY private school for that matter?”

I wait for her to smoothly accelerate down the driveway and say, “No, Angi...you know my thoughts on that. I’m not going to run from my school just because things could get uncomfortable…”

She smiles and says, “Well, you can’t blame me for wanting to make it better for you. BUT, I truly admire your commitment. Anyway, Francie will be home in a few weeks for fall break—I’m sure you’ll survive missing her until then!”

I play-pout and say, “I don’t know…I MAY have to find a way into that ‘secret’ room you and Momma have…”

Angi almost drives into the ditch and says, “Don’t you dare… WAIT! You know?”

I giggle and say, “Just because I’m not in private school doesn’t mean I’m an idiot, you know. Besides, Francie and I have connections—and movers can have loose lips…”

Angi says, “Don’t you DARE let your Momma know that YOU know…”

I grin and shrug. I say, “Well, if you can get me a picture of her in that cat suit I hear she has…”

Angi chokes and says, “Paige!”

I giggle and say, “I’m just kidding, Angi. Relax! I AM glad that you’re my doctor, though and I consider this a session, so YOU can’t tell, either!”

Angi shakes her head and says, “You’re incorrigible, young lady! But seriously, you know that I really love your Momma, right?”

I nod and say, “And you’re perfect together—so, when are you two going to make it MORE official?”

Angi blushes and says, “Don’t you dare say anything, but…I’m thinking of proposing. Is that OK with you?”

I scream and Angi almost drives into the ditch again. I say, “Of course it is! But…what do I call you then? ‘Momma’ is already taken!”

Angi shakes her head and says, “I’m really nervous! Your Momma is really special to me—I don’t think you know… And you can call me whatever you like, Love. Angi, Mom, Mumma, Mother, Mum, Mummy…”

We both start giggling and she pulls into the school parking lot.

I say, “OK, ‘Mummy’ it is! Just remember—it was YOUR idea!”

Angi gives me a raspberry and we get out and click in perfect unison over the concrete parking lot to the school…

On a side note, I don’t think you understand just how HOT Angi is… Long, smooth, tanned legs. Long, red hair. Emerald green eyes. Double-D breasts and perfect cleavage…

The two of us climbing out of her lavender Porsche 911 Cabriolet (of COURSE the top is down) and then clicking in perfect unison on 4” stilettos has the boys in town absolutely DROOLING!

The pinks have taught me one thing well, though—ABSOLUTELY IGNORE the wolf whistles. I completely tune them out, as does Angi. We walk confidently up the steps and enter the school (the one I have attended for the past two years as a boy) as if we own it.

Of course, my heart is POUNDING and I feel faint. Angi inconspicuously grabs my hand and squeezes it to comfort me.

We walk to the front office and Angi says to Mrs. Dickenson, the secretary, “Hi. I’m Angi Crawford—Dr. Crawford. I’m here to sign some papers for Paige Fitzsimmon’s registration.”

Mrs. Dickenson looks up, surprised and says, “Fitzsimmons? There’s only one that I know of on the roles and that’s Victor.” She looks at me…then does a double-take. She asks, “Vick? Is that you?”

I shake my head and say, “Not anymore, Mrs. Dickenson. I’m Paige, now.”

She turns pale and says, “Well, for the life of me! I would NEVER have expected…”

Angi says, “Paige is transgendered and in transition. She is fully under my care as a specialist and I am here to certify her status. As such, she is entitled to certain rights…”

Mrs. Dickenson harrumphs and says, “Don’t tell me MY business Doctor and I won’t tell you YOURS. So, Vick…it’s ‘Paige’ now? Is that legal—or just what you go by?”

I dig into my purse and pull out the learner’s permit I had just gotten two days ago. I hand it to her and say, “As you can see, my name is now legally ‘Victoria Paige Fitzsimmons—and my gender is officially ‘female’.”

Mrs. Dickenson looks at the permit with disdain—as if it caused a foul taste in her mouth. She says, “So I see. Of course—your birth certificate would still have ‘male’ on it…”

Angi says, “That will be rectified as soon as Paige has her SRS.”

Mrs. Dickenson completely ignores Angi and says, “So…I assume you will want to use the girls’ facilities… Bathrooms and locker rooms, then?”

I look at her with an incredulous look on my face and ask, “Do you REALLY think I want to use the BOYS’ facilities dressed like THIS?”

Mrs. Dickenson is not phased and says, “You’d be surprised what some perverts will do to get a look up a girl’s dress…”

I turn pale. I want to scream at her. I take a deep breath. Angi starts to say something, but I cut her off. I say in a calm voice, “Mrs. Dickenson. I have a semi-permanent ‘fixture’ that is as realistic-looking as ANY girl’s vagina in this school. I can’t remove it—even if I wanted to. I have HIGHER estrogen levels than certainly YOU do—and LESS testosterone, since ANY that is produced by or introduced to my body is IMMEDIATELY converted to estrogen thanks to an experimental implant in me—that ALSO CAN’T BE REMOVED. On top of that, I am in a VERY committed relationship with my girlfriend.”

Mrs. Dickenson looks at me with a jaundiced eye and says, “SEE? You ARE a boy—just as I thought!”

It’s too much for Angi and she says, “I REALLY don’t have ANY tolerance for bigots and gay bashers—especially in administrative positions! Now, are you going to register Paige and give her access to the facilities that correspond to her LEGAL gender—FEMALE?”

Mrs. Dickenson sniffs and shouts, “I’M NOT A BIGOT! I’M A GOD-FEARING WOMAN AND I KNOW WHAT’S RIGHT AND WHAT’S NOT!”

At that moment Miss Ferguson, the principal comes out and demands, “Mrs. Dickenson, is there a problem?”

Mrs. Dickenson is shaking and says, “No, Miss Ferguson.”

Miss Ferguson says, “It certainly doesn’t sound like nothing!” She looks at me…and keeps looking… Finally, she says, “Vick Fitzsimmons?”

I shake my head and say, “No, Ma’am. It’s Paige, now.”

She seems to understand better and looks at Angi. She says, “Hello, I’m Ronnie Ferguson. I know you’re not Paige’s mom—I know Dawn…”

I notice right away that there is not even the SLIGHTEST pause in referring to me as ‘Paige’…like it was the most normal thing in the world…

Angi introduces herself and says, “I’m here to help Paige register.”

Miss Ferguson says, “It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Crawford. Why don’t you and Paige come into my office.”

Angi says, “Thank you, Miss Ferguson. Please—call me Angi.”

We follow her into her office and she says, “Thank you, Angi. Please call me Ronnie.” She indicates that we should sit and asks, “Would either o fyou like anything to drink? I have a fresh pot of coffee—and it’s the GOOD stuff—I promise!”

We both accept and Ronnie (she makes it clear that is ONLY for when we are NOT around other students…) pours us each a cup. She hands me mine and asks, “Do you mind if I ask…when did this come about?”

I sigh and look at Angi. She nods and I tell Ronnie the WHOLE story.

When I am done, she is crying. She wipes her eyes and says, “You poor girl! I…I’m SO sorry!”

I shake my head and say, “Don’t be… It’s what it is… It’s people like Mrs. Dickenson that make it difficult.”

Ronnie says, “Well—not just her… There are the State legislators and the school board, too.”

Angi and I both give her a confused look.

She says, “I assume that you want to use the girls’ facilities? I know I would…”

I nod…unsure of myself, now.

She says, “I’m sorry, Paige… But, in that case…I’m afraid you’ll have to wear a wristband that identifies you to all as transgendered…”

Angi says, “THAT is why I want you to go to private school, Sweetie!”

I am honestly stunned—I had no idea this is what TGs had to go through. I look at her and ask, “Isn’t that why we joined in World War II? To stop people from branding other people to segregate them? Didn’t we stop that in this country back in the 1960s—separate facilities for blacks and whites? Why not just tattoo a number on my arm? Or maybe, more in keeping with the times, a barcode?”

Ronnie smiles and says, “Trust me, Hon. I’m FULLY on board with what you’re thinking. BUT, if I don’t comply, they’ll only take me out and put a principal in here that thinks more like Mrs. Dickenson—then I can’t do the things that I CAN…”

Angi sits there fuming…

I say, “In that case, I’ll use the BOYS’ facilities…”

Both Angi and Ronnie do a double-take and ask at the same time, “WHAT?”

I say, “Do you think I REALLY care? I can promise you, it will create MORE of a furor with me going in there than the OTHER way around—BUT, I’ll need protection. I’m not stupid enough to think there won’t be those that try to bully me—or beat me up…”

Ronnie smiles and says, “Paige, Hon—I think I’m in love… Just leave it to me… Angi, are you OK with this? Do you think Dawn will be?”

Angi says, “I’ll confirm it with Dawn, but if you can GUARANTEE full protection for Paige, then…I guess it is HER decision. Honestly, I want her to go to a private school…”

Ronnie nods and says, “I see. Well, OK, please let me know. And—welcome to your junior year, Paige. Are you planning on trying out for any extra-curricular activities? I assume football is out?”

I giggle and say, “Well—I’m pretty busy with my ballet schedule—but, I was thinking of maybe trying out for cheerleading. I’ve become pretty decent at it.”

Ronnie says, “I see you’re not afraid to poke any bear, now, Paige. Quite the difference from Vick… Heaven help us! Well, good luck! I’m on your side—it will certainly give us some excitement to look forward to. Just be careful; OK, young lady? I can only do SO much in protecting you!”

I nod and we all go back out to the secretary’s vestibule. Ronnie says, “Mrs. Dickenson, Paige is registering with FULL rights as a TG girl—BUT has declined the right to use the girls’ facilities. As such, she needs no wristband. She WILL, however, be included ONLY in female PA and extra-curricular activities. Make sure that is reflected on her schedule.”

Mrs. Dickenson exudes her contempt but says, “Yes, Miss Ferguson. I will email you your schedule, ‘MISS’ Fitzsimmons.”

I smile sweetly and say, “Thank you, Mrs. DICK-enson”

Angi discreetly swats my behind as we turn to leave. Ronnie winks at me and I say, “I’ll see you next week, Miss Ferguson! Thank you!”

Momma looks at me, concerned, and says, “Maybe Angi is right, Love. Maybe a private school IS a better solution…”

I shake my head. If this whole affair has done nothing, it has taught me to stand my ground. I say, “Momma, think about it…do you REALLY think there aren’t bigots and bullies at private schools? All that will happen is that it will be covered up that I’m ‘TG’—then I have to ALWAYS worry that that will somehow be discovered.”

I sigh and continue, “I’d MUCH rather that it’s out in the open… It really isn’t ANY different from my ‘options’ for transitioning… A ‘real’ girl has no choice in her genes and gender… Neither does a TG girl…and that doesn’t change at public school. If OTHER TG girls have to attend public school and survive, then so will I.”

Momma shakes her head and says, “DAMN your father to HELL!” Then she stops and cries… She says, “You know I didn’t mean that…but…you have SO many of his traits… His IDEALISM… No wonder you hate what we’re doing to Misty…”

Angi comes over and hugs her. Momma continues and says, “OK. I trust you, Love—BUT, I WILL yank you out of there if you’re harmed in any way. Understand?”

I nod and say, “Yes, Momma. But please let ME say when it’s too much. I PROMISE I will, OK?”

Momma closes her eyes and slowly nods…

Angi says, “I LOVE you BOTH so much! This is such a perfect moment… I had planned on this being TOTALLY different…”

I look at her…and KNOW… I suck in a HUGE gulp of air and suppress a scream…

Momma looks at her—totally ignorant…

Angi goes to her purse and digs in it…then comes over to Momma and gets on her knee. She holds out the little velvet box with the HUGE two carat ring and asks, “Dawn, Love of my life. As your daughter is our witness, will you marry me?”

Momma nearly faints and looks at me…the question clearly evident on her face (is it OK?)…

I nod and whisper, “I already gave ‘Mummy’ my blessing…”

Momma almost giggles at that and looks deep into Angi’s eyes and says, “As OUR daughter is our witness, YES, I would LOVE to become your wife!”

Now I DO scream!

‘Mummy’ puts the ring on Momma’s finger and we ALL cry. Angi gets a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator. She takes out THREE glasses and pops the cork. She pours two glasses full and looks at Momma, who nods, and she pours the third about half full.

We each take one (mine is one of the FULL ones, of course—JUST KIDDING) and we clink them with a loud ‘CHEERS’! We take a sip and I grimace at the effervescent flavor of…vinegar. We then hug and Angi says, “You don’t know HOW nervous I was about this, LOVE! If it wasn’t for Paige, I may not have had the nerve…”

Momma looks at me and asks, “You really ARE OK with this, aren’t you?”

I nod and say, “Momma—Angi, or ‘Mummy’ as I’m now to call her, is a GREAT catch—and your happiness is paramount to me. OF COURSE, I’m OK with it!”

Angi chokes on her champagne as I let out the ‘Mummy’ joke… Of course, NOW, it is official… She says, “Dawn, Love, I would NEVER have asked without her blessing…”

Momma kisses me on the cheek and says, “I love you, my dearest daughter.” She looks at ‘Mummy’ and says, “And, OF COURSE, I LOVE you… NOW, I just have to get YOU a ring!”

Mummy says, “Well…” She grins and pulls out a matching ring and says, “Assuming you like it?”

Momma laughs and says, “Love it? I ADORE it!” And she places it on Mummy’s finger.

I finish my half-glass of champagne—after adding a bunch of orange juice—and leave the two love-birds alone. I go to my room and text a picture of the rings to Francie. Of course, it takes less than thirty seconds before my phone is ringing and I am telling her ALL about my day…

o~O~o

I turn off my alarm and stretch. I hate having to get up at five a.m. on one of my last days of vacation-but I need to go into the office with Angi for some more tests…

I reflect on that a minute and grin—let me rectify that statement… I need to go into the office with MUMMY for some more tests…

I get out from under the covers and pad my way into the bathroom. If there’s any ONE thing that I think I would gripe MOST about being a ‘girl’, it’s having to get up an hour earlier to get ready…well, I guess I should amend THAT too… It’s what I would gripe most about being a PINK girl about…

I turn on the shower and let the water warm up to nice steamy proportions…I get in a still marvel at WONDERFUL the shower feels now.

A little under an hour later, I give myself a final check in the mirror and am satisfied that my Pink peeps would be proud. I step into my five-inch stilettos and go downstairs for a quick breakfast.

I enter the kitchen and I almost jump out of my skin when I hear, “Good morning, Miss.”

I look around and mumble, “Good morning, Misty. You’re up early.” I can’t help but notice that he is wearing women’s dress pants and shoes—sure, you have to know to look…but, then, I do…

He says, “Yes, Miss. Excuse me, Miss.”

I say, “Have a great day, Misty…” But he has already turned and was on his way out the back door—just as Angi comes in.

She says, “Well, you beat me down here! Who were you talking to?”

I giggle and say, “Well, I didn’t drink two bottles of champagne!” I point to the two empty bottles on the counter. I shrug and say, “Misty was in here… I’m not sure why… He nearly scared me to death!”

Angi smiles and says, “Your Momma is giving him some extra duties around the house… Anyway, why don’t we stop at Starbuck’s on the way and get breakfast to go?”

I shrug again and say, “Fine by me…”

Angi looks at my shoes and smiles. She says, “Well, you’re certainly giving yourself a challenge this morning.”

I look at her, confused. I ask, “Challenge? Five inch heels haven’t been a challenge for WEEKS, now…”

Angi leads the way to the garage as I grab my purse. We go to her Porsche and she hands me the keys and says, “But, you haven’t DRIVEN in them yet… I suggest you take them off until you get the hang of shifting… Please leave my clutch in one piece!”

I look at her with a mixture of excitement and fear. I ask, “I’m driving?”

She laughs and says, “You’re not going to learn any younger. Now…let’s go—I need COFFEE!”

I get into the driver’s seat and adjust things—after taking my shoes off and checking that I can reach the pedals in my stockinged feet. She makes me go through the gears several times with the car off—just to get the hang of them. Then she has me push the clutch and start the car.

Nervous as I think I have EVER been, I manage to get the car into reverse and back out of the garage without hitting anything. I take a deep breath, push in the clutch and put it into first—and take off, shifting up as I gain speed without grinding any gears. I have the BIGGEST grin on my face…

I don’t make it ALL the way to her office without ONE (small) grind (which happened to be as I’m pulling out of the drive-through at Starbuck’s). Once I pull into her parking space and switch off the ignition, I look over at her, expecting a berating for the grind.

She reaches over and hugs me and says, “Perfect! THAT was awesome, young lady! You paid attention to the road and did MUCH better than I did my first actual time driving a manual. Don’t let it go to your head, though. OK? You still need LOTS of practice!”

She giggles as I put my shoes back on and says, “Now, driving home, you’ll leave those ON!”

We get out of the car and she hands me my coffee. We walk into her office and sit at her conference table to eat our breakfast and she says, “OK, Paige. I know you took this once before and you know the answers… What I would like for you to do is take it twice again… The first time, answer honestly—as you are today. Don’t overthink the questions—just put down your first instinct; your most honest answer. Then, I want you to take it again. I’ll give you instructions before you do so, OK?”

I nod, confused, and she leaves me alone in her office to take that ill-fated ‘exam’ I had taken so long ago to ‘gain entrance’ into camp. Of course, now I know what it really is—a psychological profiling questionnaire to see where one is on the LGBT spectrum.

I take a deep breath and clear my mind the best I can of all the baggage I have associated with this particular set of questions and answer them as honestly as I can.

Just as I am finishing up twenty minutes later, Angi comes back in and smiles. She says, “Done? OK, may I please have your answer sheet? Thanks, Hon! Now, I would like for you to reach back and think about being Vick again—BEFORE any of this happened. Try and channel his thoughts and answer. Can you do that?”

I look at her a little surprised and say, “Well, I can try—it’s not like we’re separate people, though…”

She smiles and says, “I know, Love. Just do your best—if you answer the same as just now, that’s perfectly fine. If you think you WOULD have answered differently, then please do so. Again, don’t OVER think it—there is no right or wrong, here. It’s just…well, I’m interested… Is that OK?”

I nod and say as I see her ring sparkle in the bright overhead light, “Sure… I’ll give it my best try…MUMMY!”

She play slaps my arm and leaves me alone again.

I sit there and think back to a time in my life that seems almost surreal now. I try and peel back all of the layers of ‘Pink’ that have been ingrained into me and start answering the questions the best I can…

Thirty minutes later she comes back in and I finish up the last two questions. I hand her the answer sheet with tears welling in my eyes. She gives me a big hug and says, “I know that was hard, Hon—and it dredged up a bunch of suppressed feelings. I need those out. You’re about to start school as a GIRL and a TG one, at that. We need you to be able to handle those feelings internally before you really get hit with the inevitable external factors. Mrs. Duffus is just the beginning I’m sorry to say…”

I nod and carefully wipe the tears with a tissue from the dispenser on the table. I excuse myself to ‘check my makeup’ in the bathroom mirror as an excuse to give myself a few minutes to gather myself.

When I get back to Angi’s office she is just finishing scoring the last go-through. She looks up at me and gives me an encouraging smile. She says, “Are you interested in the results, Hon, or have you had enough for one day?”

I take a deep breath and say, “I’m fine. I’m pretty sure I answered at least some of the questions differently…”

Angi nods and says, “When I scored your first go-through…the one where I asked you to just answer without thinking, you actually scored a 535, which, were you taking this for the first time, would get you into Pink House. This is an interesting result for me and gives me some things to work on to further tweak the questionnaire, since we know that you’re not TG in the actual sense of the term—you ARE, however, transitioning mentally to a girl; that much is clear. Now, the ‘pinkness’ of the score is likely largely due to your ‘conditioning’ in camp…”

I look at her with a blank look.

She giggles and says, “I’m sorry, Love. This basically tells me, given the fact that I know YOU, that you’re adjusting well to becoming to a girl—even though it wasn’t really a need or desire of yours. Does that make sense?”

I nod and say, “I think so.”

She says, “Good. Now for the really interesting part. Of course this is retrospective and somewhat prone to recall bias… But, it seems that you were actually very comfortable with your feminine side, even as Vick. Your score indicates that you were basically right in the middle of male and female. That explains a lot in terms of how you’re able to handle this with so much…grace and poise. It isn’t completely against your nature.”

I give her another blank look and this time she laughs. She says, “It means that I’m not SO worried about your mental well-being as I was. You are one of those people that, at their core, don’t really CARE about gender…”

I giggle and say, “Well, I could have told you not to worry… But, if this helps…”

She smiles and says, “I didn’t say I was NOT worried…just not AS much. You still warrant a lot of love and help in your transition, young lady! And I’m not going anywhere!” She glances at her ring and grins widely.

I laugh and say, “If you say so, MUMMY!”

After that, I help around the office doing a variety of small jobs until it is time for lunch and Angi lets me drive us to a nearby favorite restaurant of hers where we meet up with Momma. After we finish, Angi lets me drive home (without any MAJOR incidents, in spite of wearing the heels) where she leaves me to enjoy the rest of the day and drives herself back to the office.

I decide to just chill out by the pool and catch up on some reading. I go up to my room and get undressed and put my clothes neatly away in my closet. As I do, I catch sight of myself in the antique full-length mirror in my room. I stop what I am doing and stare. It still surprises me at some level to see myself now.

I look at my naked ‘vagina’ and memories of last week flood my brain. It was the first time the device had been removed for ‘hygiene purposes and repositioning’. I had been floored at the time (at the end of camp) I found out that those laser treatments that Jemma had been giving me were actually permanently ensuring that I would not have ANY body hair. Imagine my surprise when I also found out that the device has special chemical properties to it that achieves the same results. The hair follicles under the device are effectively dead—ensuring that I will have a permanent ‘Brazilian’ look.

Worse than the hairlessness that I unexpectedly had encountered under the device was the sorry nature my actual organs were in. My testicles are now, thanks to the effects of the implant, permanently up inside me…swollen to the point that they can’t descend anymore—even if the ligaments (or whatever it is—I zoned out at the technical terms) that are holding them hadn’t shortened so much by now that they weren’t being pulled back up into my abdomen to an area close to where they would sit as ovaries.

On top of that, my penis is just a small shriveled piece of flesh that is happy to just flop backwards between my legs and be held there by the device. There was no doubt when I saw the effects of several months of aromatase augmentation that there is no turning them back. I’m in it for better or worse—just as Angi had warned me.

My eyes float up my body to my breasts. They are showing similar development. I am now officially a B-cup (and yes, I finally know what all of that means…). My areolae are still growing, but are larger than a quarter, darker, and developing small bumps on them. My nipples are about the size of mini marshmallows and OH so sensitive—especially with the little silicone suction cups on them that Francie got me…

I look down at my legs and decide that they are really getting sexy and I am actually proud of them. The combination of dancing, cheerleading, and swimming is doing them wonders—long, smooth, and deliciously tanned (not to mention nicely toned). The same goes for my whole body, actually. There is no doubt that I am a developing girl—one that is quickly catching up to her fifteen-year-old counterparts…

I search my feelings and decide that I really DON’T mind the fact that I’m turning into a young woman instead of a man. Yes, I HAD been looking forward to being Vick—the football star. But, I don’t really mind turning into Paige—the ballerina. I guess I AM weird, after all…

I shake my head and pull myself out of my reverie and put on my bikini. I grab my lotion, stack of teen fashion magazines, and the romance novel that Francie got me hooked on and go out to lay by the pool and enjoy the afternoon.

o~O~o

The rest of my last week off before my junior year of high school is over before I know it. A lot of my time is spent swimming (as in actually practicing) and keeping up with my cheerleading moves. Most of it is spent practicing my ballet. Madame Pratt certainly will have no mercy if I come back to class after break and have not kept up my flexibility.

It is Sunday and one of those rare occasions where EVERYONE is home – including Francie (but just for the day *SIGH*)!

Francie and I are out by the pool with Mummy, relaxing. Momma comes up from the guesthouse with Misty in tow. I look at him and once again notice that he is wearing women’s slacks and shoes. Again, it isn’t overtly noticeable—it’s just enough ‘off’ to make you look, though. The pants are just a tad bit short and if you really look, you can tell that he is wearing black nylon stockings instead of socks. The short-sleeved shirt is obviously a woman’s blouse—it even has a bit of lace on it. The shoes have a bit of a heel—just enough that they aren’t ‘quite right’ for a man.

Momma says, “Hi gals! Misty here has asked for some extra hours. It seems that the money just isn’t quite stretching enough to make ends meet. So he is going to do some housework and fetch us drinks and such. Isn’t that right, Misty?”

He says, “Yes, Mistress.”

He goes into the house and I notice his hairless arms as he does. He returns with a cart full of drinks and hands me the lemonade I ask for; I notice his perfectly manicured and polished nails—they are just a ‘tad’ too long—and slightly pinker than is natural. I also notice that his eyebrows are still perfectly shaped into the thin, high arch he has had since he came that day and signed the contract.

I say, “Thank you, Misty.”

He responds, “Yes, Miss,” and moves on to get Francie her drink. Once all are served, he goes into the house to clean. As he does, I notice he has a ‘wiggle’ to his walk—which makes me realize that another thing that had seemed ‘off’ is that he is flat up front…

I look at Momma and she shrugs, “He just can’t seem to manage his money…”

I say, “What’s with the wiggle in his step and the flat front—not to mention all of the other ‘off’ things?”

Angi says, “Now, Love. Don’t be making fun of the help. He just begged to be put in chastity, which gives him that nice flat look. As for the rest, well, let’s just say, it’s to make up for some behavioral issues. He’s getting better, though, don’t you think? We just might make a human being out of him yet. Now, let’s talk about less-depressing things!”

I shake my head; I’m sure I don’t want to know!

Francie leans over and whispers in my ear, “I bet that wiggle is caused by a butt plug… I know a guy at Juilliard that wears one to get that same wiggle…”

I roll my eyes and whisper back, “Well, I guess I DID ask… But…EWWWWWWE!”

She giggles and we turn back to the conversation at hand.

The day goes by WAY too quickly, though. Before I know it, Francie is getting ready to leave and I’m giving her a SERIOUS kiss.

Breathless, she says, “I will see you in two weeks, Love! Be good in school—and don’t let them get you down, OK?”

I nod and bite my lip. I say, “Yeah…I’m not sure how easy THAT’S going to be, but I’m certainly going to do my best!”

I groan this time as the alarm goes off at four a.m. I groan again and turn it off. I swing my legs sleepily out of bed before I fall back asleep. I stretch, yawn, and stretch again—then I pad into the bathroom to take a REALLY steamy shower.

Since it is my first day at school—ever—as a girl, I go easy on the makeup and clothes. NOT! I decide I may as well make a statement—especially since I’ll be using the boys’ room if and when I have to relieve myself.

I stumble down the stairs in my four-inch stilettos—not because they are too high; I’m simply still sleepy… Angi meets me at the bottom of the stairs with a smoothie and a large cup of coffee. I take them and drain the smoothie in several long gulps—then take a drink of the hot, bitter brew.

I smile and say, “Thanks, Mummy—just what the doctor ordered!”

She groans and I can’t help but giggle. She says “Come on, young lady. Your Momma is still asleep—and I’m taking you to school. You’re driving, though!”

I sigh and say, “SUCH a bother—having to drive and all!” We both giggle and move towards the garage.

Thirty minutes later, I get out of the Porsche and see several guys ogle me. I wiggle my butt a little as I get my bag out. Mummy whispers, “Be careful, Paige! Don’t be TOO provocative—that’s how girls get raped…”

I blush and nod. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and drives off—leaving me to face the consequences of the day.

I look at my phone and pull up the schedule that Ronnie had sent me—I know where to go first; I mean it’s not like I’ve never been to this school. I move towards the principal’s office—as requested.

I simply walk right past Mrs. DICKenson with a, “Good MORNING, Mrs. DICK-enson! Miss Ferguson summoned me.”

I hear some grumblings from her desk, but ignore them as I knock on Ronnie’s door. I enter when I hear the requisite ‘Come in!’…

Ronnie looks up at me and says, “Ahh! Good morning, Paige! You look LOVELY this morning! I think you know…”

I look in the corner she is looking towards and nearly yell, “BUTCH!”

Ronnie says, “Yes…’Butch’…”

Butch looks at me in awe and says, “Vick—that you man? Really? I…I’m sorry. I wanted to visit—but they wouldn’t let me, then I was out of state, and then you were gone…”

I close my eyes and breath, then say, “Hi, Butch. No, I’m not Vick… It’s Paige, now…”

He grimaces and says, “So it’s true… I caused you to become a girl?”

I sigh and say, “No, it’s not quite that simple—and CERTAINLY not YOUR fault, big guy!”

He shakes his head and says, “If I hadn’t tripped…”

I look at him with a VERY serious face and say, “Butch—it’s NOT YOUR FAULT! Understand?”

He says, “That’s really nice of you to say, … Paige—but I know I’m to blame. That’s why, I’m going to be on your protective detail.”

I look at him, then at Ronnie, and ask, “Say what?”

At that moment, Felix, another HUGE guy—and an openly gay guy, at that, knocks and comes in. He says, “Good morning, Miss Ferguson, Butch—and,” he smiles at me, “Paige, I presume?”

I nod, numbly…

Ronnie says, “Good morning, Felix. Now, Paige, these two are your protective detail—at least for now. If you need to go to the ‘facilities’, I want you to make sure at least one of them is with you. Here is a note from me that explicitly says that you are to be accompanied… I have also let the teachers know that I will NOT tolerate ANY bullying…”

I nod, dumbfounded, and say, “Thank you, Miss Ferguson. But…is this maybe a bit…overkill?”

She shakes her head and says, “I sincerely hope so, Paige. I sincerely hope so. Now, I believe that you have a trig class to get to—you and Felix…?”

I nod and Felix says, “Come along, Sweetheart—I see a beautiful relationship in our future!”

I lead the way out and say, “In your dreams, Lover-Boy… I have a VERY jealous girlfriend!”

He laughs and I giggle and Mrs. DICKenson scowls at us as we leave.

I look at Felix and ask, “Are you really up for this? I may as well get the first step out of the way…”

He looks at me and says, “Are you sure? *I* have the easy part…”

I shrug and wiggle my butt as I walk towards the boys’ room—my stilettos click-clacking on the old-fashioned marble floor. Without a moment’s hesitation, I open the door and walk straight in. The smell of testosterone and boys’ urine assaults my nose (it has BEEN a while since I have smelled it and it seems even worse than it used to– YUCK). I go to the first empty stall, squat to do my business (NO WAY I’m going to SIT…), and wipe. I flush, walk out of the stall to the sinks, wash my hands, check my makeup in the mirror, and add some lip gloss. I walk out and smile at the open jaws as I hook arms with Felix and we go to class.

On our way, Felix whispers, “That was AWESOME! But, be careful, huh? I don’t want to see you hurt…and I don’t REALLY want to kick any butt—but, I WILL if I have to.”

I smile at him as we walk into the classroom and say, “I know big guy—you and Butch are both softies at heart. Don’t worry, *I* won’t tell!” I giggle and we take our seats, just as the bell rings.

o~O~o

OK, so maybe it WASN’T the smartest thing to do…but, I was going to have to go sometime. Anyway, by the time first period will be over, it will have made it ALL across school that I am TG and the former Vick. For some, it won’t matter at all; for some, I will be ‘cool’; for too many, I will be a pervert—someone to loath and a convenient target.

Trig itself is no problem. The looks, even in those first minutes, start to become more of an issue—even for someone DETERMINED not to let them be. The girls—mostly curious. The boys—either lecherous; or loathsome…

Mr. Gregory, the teacher comes in and, of course, makes me introduce myself.

I get up and say, “Well, as many of you know, I’m not really new here. I’m Paige—those of you who knew me before knew me as Vick. Vick Fitzsimmons. I’m transitioning…”

And all hell breaks loose as I am barraged with questions.

So, our little community is the best kept secret in all things TG clinics—with the VERY best in the country. TG hopefuls come from all over the world to be allowed to transition. BUT, there are very FEW actually transitioning in the community, itself. I am only the third in the last twenty years—and the first in the last ten…

Gregory Hines, a running back hopeful, asks, “Vick, dude…you REALLY want to be a GIRL?”

The girls all hiss and boo him.

I lift my hands for silence and say, “Hi, Greg. It’s less what I WANT—it’s more what HAS to be… It…well…I just HAVE to… Understand?” I don’t go into details…

He says, “No…dude… But whatever is right for you, I guess…”

And so it goes for a full ten minutes—until Mr. Gregory says, “OK, class. Time for some trig. Paige isn’t going anywhere…”

So, I settle in and start taking notes.

The next class is no different…

Then, coffee kicks in and it is time to go to…the BOYS’ room…again…

This time Butch is my guardian…and I take a bigger hit…

Gerald Graham, a bigot if there ever was one one—and the school’s biggest one, for sure—just happens to be in the same one that I happen to go to…

I go in and quickly move to a free stall and lock the door. I scrunch my nose in disgust at the smell and squat, but again don’t sit as I relieve myself. I wipe and take a shallow breath before unlocking the door… I click towards the mirror to wash my hands and check my makeup.

Gerald stands in my way and sneers, “What do we have here? If I didn’t KNOW better, I would think there was a HOT babe in the BOYS’ room. As it is, I KNOW there is a HUGE PERVERT in here. What are we going to do about this pervert, boys?”

A posse of misfits starts moving towards me and I start to sweat a bit—well, make that ‘glisten’, since everyone knows that Pinks don’t ‘sweat’.

I watch the three thugs—all on the varsity football team—advance towards to me. It is clear that I’m going to need extra makeup to hide the bruises.

Butch gets in front of me and asks, “Do you REALLY think you’re goin’ to get past ME? It’s MY fault that she is here… Come on…maybe you want to join her?”

One idiot actually tries it and winds up sprawled on a toilet in one of the stalls. The others back off and Gerald says, “Well, I guess we know where you stand, Butch. Watch out at practice. You’ll regret this!”

And they all leave. I release the breath I’m holding and thank Butch before checking my makeup.

And we get to third hour just as the bell rings…

I wish I could say the rest of the day goes better, but…I can’t…

What I can say, is that the girls seem to be more accepting of me, in general, than the boys… It seems the girls—at least many of the ‘in-crowd’ are almost…threatened…by me. Of course, whether I ever wanted to be a girl or not, I am doing my best to be the BEST one I can—and, if I do say so myself, I look HOT…

Oh well, tomorrow is another day—and cheerleading tryouts at that…

o~O~o

I am not sure about this new ‘arrangement’—it kind of creeps me out having Misty serve me breakfast. Sure, Momma and Mummy, both, assure me that all is well…

“How would Miss like her eggs,” Misty asks.

I look at her. She is dressed similarly to what I have seen her over the last week. In black slacks, that are, upon closer scrutiny, women’s—these are looser in the leg than men’s would be, hanging straight down, plus there is no zipper on the front (it is actually on the side), leaving the front totally flat. He has a white ‘shirt’ on that, again upon closer scrutiny, turns out to be a woman’s blouse (the buttons are too small and on the wrong side for a man). His lace-up ‘shoes’ are really women’s bootlets that have a two-inch stiletto heel that is hidden by the large legs of the slacks—unless you really pay attention (well, and the obvious click-clack of a high heel on the ceramic kitchen tile). His fingernails are slightly longer than I have seen—and are squared off at the tips. They also now have a very slight white edge in the slimmest possible version of a French Tip (just enough to be visible, if paying attention). The biggest thing I notice are his ears, though… He is sporting large white pearls in each lobe…

I pull myself together, remembering that Allen was a TERRIBLE cook and say, “One—over easy and a piece of toast, lightly buttered, is fine, Misty…”

He nods and clicks around the kitchen, his butt wiggling in that funny manner again, preparing my breakfast. Angi comes in and kisses me on the cheek, “Good morning, Love! I’ll have the same, Misty! OJ for us both, too.”

I roll my eyes towards Misty’s back and Angi’s eyes crinkle, but she motions for me to be quiet.

In short order, I get an over-cooked egg and slightly burned toast. I sigh—I could have done much better; and quicker, too.

Mummy looks at her egg and toast with disdain and says, “Well, I guess it’s the attempt that counts…” Her tone sent a completely other message and Misty blanches slightly.

He says, “Yes, Mistress.”

I shake my head and Angi I go to her car and get in it—of course, I drive…

I hug Mummy and give her a quick kiss on the cheek as she comes around the car to get into the driver’s seat. I look at the entrance of the school and sigh. I say, more to myself than anyone, “Well…here goes another day in paradise…”

“Well, that is ONE way to put it,” a somewhat familiar voice giggles.

I look around and see Paulette Sisko smiling at me. Paulette is a girl on the cusp of being popular—she is one of those ‘bridger’ girls that can get along with most any group—but, especially the popular crowd.

I smile and say, “Hi, Paulette. Be careful talking to the pariah…you might catch something…”

She giggles and says, “No worries, I got my ‘pariah’ vaccine last month—I’m safe!”

I roll my eyes, but giggle with her. I ask, “Not that I’m complaining, but to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She smiles—and it seems genuine. She says, “Well, I thought you could use a friend. I know those are sort of in short supply for you, right now. And…no…it doesn’t bother me that you’re TG—OR that THAT bothers 99% of this school…”

I take in a deep breath and hold it for a bit, then let it out. I say, “Well…thank you, Paulette. I appreciate the offer. It’s sort of weird coming back to a school that I have attended for years and suddenly have no friends, other than an overprotective football player with a misguided guilt-complex and a gay guardian that has who-knows-what for motivation. That being said, I’ll be honest—I’m not really sure of YOUR motivation. Call me paranoid…but…”

She actually laughs and says, “See? We’re going to get along great! I love a girl that’s honest! So, sure…I’m curious. But, more importantly—I’m open to having a new friend. No strings attached…”

I look at her and decide she is being genuine. I say, “OK. Curiosity killed the cat—and I already HAVE a girlfriend… If we’re clear on that…how can I settle that curiosity of yours?”

She blushes and says, “Well, too bad about the girlfriend—but not a deal-breaker. But, how did you EVER get the courage…?”

We walk towards the front entrance and slowly get to know each other better. I am still guarded in my responses, but am starting to loosening up…

o~O~o

The actual school day is about the same as yesterday—I do get slammed hard into my locker from behind when a large crowd is surging by. I can’t SWEAR that it was deliberate, but…

I’m not accosted in the bathroom, but I now have to make sure that BOTH my guardians are with me after yesterday—Miss Ferguson’s orders. Honestly, it is REALLY embarrassing—not that I have to use the boys’ room; I could care less. It’s that I need GUARDS to do so…

There are fewer questions in class today—and more stares and glares. I tell myself I don’t care—I know it is a lie…

I make it through the day—and my resolve to even try out for cheerleading has largely eroded. I am about to just text Mummy that I am going to forgo the ‘experience’ when Paulette catches up with me.

She says, “So, you’re trying out for cheerleading, right? That is SO cool! I’m a loser when it comes to actually moving my body to the wiles of music… But, do you mind if I tag along? I like watching those that DO!” She giggles.

I sigh and say, “I don’t think so… I mean, I don’t mind you watching—but, I don’t think I’m going to try out…”

She gives me a strange look—almost one of regret. She says, “And here I thought you were different—not one to conform to the ‘norm’. One to not give into pressures…” She sighs, “Too bad!”

I look at her and ask, “Excuse me? What do YOU know about me? Yes, I had every intention of going in there and kicking some butt—and trust me, I could—and letting them totally NOT pick me; just to discriminate against me. But, after today, I have to conserve my energy—pick my battles. I mean, what do I have to gain by letting them humiliate me?”

Paulette shakes her head and says, “Nothing—and EVERYTHING! So…what if I told you there’s someone on the panel that’s pulling for you? I can’t guarantee that you’ll get picked—but, I CAN guarantee that there are people that are PULLING for you!”

I sigh and think, “DAMN HER!” I say, “But…I don’t WANT to be a cause…I just want to be…ME…”

She smiles, ruefully, and says, “I don’t think you have that option, Hon… You can be a victim—or, you can be a driver for the movement. There isn’t really any in between—at least not HERE… Maybe in some snooty private school where you can BUY your peace.”

I look at her and groan, “Angi put you up to this, didn’t she?” The accusatory tone is very clear.

She gives me with a confused look and says in an honest tone, “I have NO idea what you’re talking about…”

I shake my head and say, “Never mind—long story. Come on…we have just enough time…”

We get to the practice field and I go into the (empty) boys’ locker room to change. I put on some comfortable loose clothing and good shoes and walk out to the sign-up sheet and sign in. I nearly fall over when I see Paulette sitting at the judges table along with Penelope Van Stryker—THE popular girl in school—and head cheerleader and full-on epitome of ‘mean’ girl.

I give Paulette an accusing and confused look and she just smiles sweetly at me.

Penelope claps her hands loudly and says, “OK, ladies. We have two positions open and it looks like we have five hopefuls. Ultimately, the choice is mine—but Paulette here, while not a cheerleader has a VERY good eye at seeing things I might miss and she will have significant sway in my decision. I will pick two of you for the team and one alternate. Are we clear?”

All of us in the group mumble that we are ready and Paulette says, “Chrissy Akers—you’re up.”

Penelope gives her a series of rapid-fire moves and combinations to perform and Chrissy nods and starts. She is good—I know I am better…

Five minutes later, Jacky O’Dell is up…and so on—until it is my turn. I am deal last, since I signed up last.

Penelope gives me a series of really complex moves and combinations to perform—they are MUCH harder than the other girls got. I turn a bit red, but simply nod and go to it. In reality, we had done much harder stuff than this at camp where I had practiced those moves hours every day.

When I am done, I can see that Penelope is not happy. She and Paulette confer—and whisper—and get animated and, finally, after about fifteen minutes, Penelope says, “OK. I have come to a decision, Chrissy and Flo, you’re in. ‘Paige’—you’re the alternate.”

I can see that Paulette is furious at Penelope. Chrissy and Flo are jumping up and down. Jacky comes over to me and says, “Congratulations—I hope you do well on the team. Penelope is a bitch—YOU were by far the best…girl…out here today; you can even cheer circles around HER. I’m sorta glad I didn’t make the team—my Mom just made me try out.”

I smile at her and say, “Thanks, Jacky. I appreciate that. Would you like to get a cup of coffee? I think we’re done here.”

Jacky nods and says, “Sure. Is it OK if Frenchie comes along?”

Frenchie, another of the washouts, is coming our way and I say, “Sure! The more the merrier, right?”

And we all move towards the locker rooms. As I gather my stuff I give Paulette an exasperated ‘I told you so’ look. She barely shakes her head and mouths, “Chin up!’. I sigh and run to the boys’ locker room to change and meet the other girls to walk to the Starbuck’s down the block for a quick cup of coffee.

An hour and a load of caffeine later, I meet Mummy-dearest outside Starbucks and she drives us home. Of course, I have to tell her all about the day and she frowns when I am done. She says, “Paige, Hon, this isn’t healthy for you. There’s absolutely no reason for you to have to put up with this crap! We can get you into Rose Academy—I’ve checked it out, it has a really good reputation…”

I want to scream at her, but take a really DEEP breath and blow it out before I interrupt, “Look, Angi. I know you believe it’s best for me to just dodge this… But, at some time, I’m going to have to enter the REAL world, right? I mean…”

Angi glares at me and says, “Paige, please don’t interrupt me like that! It’s VERY bad manners! Going to a private school isn’t dodging the issue—and I DON’T think that dodging ANY issue is best for you! Do you REALLY think that after all the time we’ve spent together? Well?”

I shake my head no and say, “No, I guess not—but that is what it would feel like to ME. And don’t you always say ‘perception is reality’? I promise you again—if it gets overwhelming, then I’ll let you transfer me to a private school. For now, just let me handle this in this manner—it really DOES help me work through it all…”

Angi sighs and is quiet for a minute; clearly conflicted. Finally, she says, “OK, Paige. You’re strong-headed; that’s nothing new. Just don’t mistake that hard head for one that can’t be hurt—either physically OR mentally.”

I nod and say, “OK, Mummy. I promise.”

She groans and she changes the subject for the rest of the drive home…

Day three starts out the same as the last two—but it doesn’t stay that way for long…

I find Butch and start towards the bathroom. I am just about to enter when Jackie grabs my arm from behind and asks, “WHY are you going in THERE, Paige? That is certainly not where you belong!”

I shake my head and say, “It really makes no difference where I go. If I go in here I get stared at by boys that either think I’m a pervert or want to see my boobs. If I WERE to go into the girls’ room, I’d still get stared at because they think I’m a pervert.”

Jackie says, “But they’d get over it a WHOLE lot quicker than the boys—at least you fit in there. I’ve been talking to a lot of my friends and they agree…”

I shake my head and say, “No…there’s a law for TG students in public schools in this state—one that the school board FULLY supports. It says that if I want to use the girls’ room—even though I’m LEGALLY declared a girl—that I have to wear a wristband that identifies me as a TG.”

Jackie pales and says, “Th…tha…that’s TERRIBLE. But, I mean, everyone KNOWS now, ANYWAY, so why not?”

I say, “Pretend you had some genetic disease, Jackie—one that wouldn’t bother ANYONE but you. Now, pretend that you had to wear a wristband that tells the world that you HAVE that disease…puts it out there in everyone’s face—reminds them AND you that you have that disease. Would it matter to you that people knew you had it, or not?”

She shakes her head and says, “I see your point, but… I mean—you have to go to the BOYS’ room…EWWWWE!!!”

I giggle and say, “Jackie, I went there for fifteen years. It’s no biggie… The boys just need to behave… Well, and it DOES seem to stink more than it used to… But, I HAVE to go, now—too much coffee!”

I run into the bathroom, Butch right behind me (I can’t wait for Felix), and plow straight into Gerald Graham’s fist. It would have knocked me on my ass if Butch wasn’t right behind me to catch me. I taste blood running down the corner of my mouth from my split lip.

He says, “Look where you’re going PERVE! You might get hurt!”

Butch carefully stands me up and unceremoniously slams him into the back wall where he slides down it, clearly stunned, like in some cartoon. All that is missing are the stars circling around his head.

Twenty minutes later, we are in Miss Ferguson’s office after visiting the school nurse. Mrs. DICKenson says as we pass by her desk into the office, “I KNEW you were going to be trouble, ‘MISS’ Fitzsimmons. You’ll be expelled for sure in no time—then we’ll have our school back clean, like it’s meant to be!”

Ronnie pokes her head out the door as Butch, Graham, and I stand in front of her office waiting. She says, “THAT will be ENOUGH, Mrs. Dickenson!”

She says, “What? It’s TRUE!”

Ronnie shakes her head—and shuts the door after we enter.

I stand there with an ice-pack on my lip and Graham is holding one on the back of his head. Butch just looks worried.

Ronnie says, “OK. Who wants to tell me what happened?”

We all three stay quiet. Ronnie looks at me, obviously worried, and says, “I’m not going to ask again…Paige, what happened?”

I sigh and shrug. I take the ice pack off of my swollen lip long enough to say, “I was going to relieve myself and ran right into Gerald Graham’s outstretched fist. If it hadn’t been for Butch, I would have landed on my butt and who knows what else would have happened. As it was, Butch cleaned Graham’s clock and we are now in here talking to you.”

Ronnie nods and looks at Butch and asks, “Is that what happened?”

Butch nods.

Ronnie looks at Gerald and asks, “And what do YOU have to say for yourself?”

He gets all indignant and says, “It’s a setup! I have five witnesses that will all tell you that it was Fitzsimmons that started it all—him and his little patsy, here. Pervert!”

Ronnie says, “Well, as it happened with the door open, there happen to be about ten other witnesses that support MISS Fitzsimmons’ version of the story. It also was caught on the hall monitoring camera. That will be a three-day suspension for you, Mr. Graham. It will also be the end of your football playing days at this school.”

He screams, “WHAT? YOU CAN’T DO THAT! MY DAD’LL SUE YOU AND THIS WHOLE PERVERTED SCHOOL—YOU KNOW HE’S ON THE BOARD, TOO!”

Ronnie says, “Yes, and he’s on his way to pick you up. I don’t think he is too happy; but it isn’t ME he’s unhappy with… You may wait out there with Mrs. Dickenson until he gets here.”

He storms out and slams the door behind him.

Ronnie looks at me and says, “I told you I would play along until you got hurt. Now, you have… And, where was Felix? Was I not clear that I wanted BOTH with you?”

I shake my head and say, “He was across the school and I had to go!”

Ronnie sighs and says, “I’ll have to think about this. It’s obvious that this arrangement isn’t going to work—you may just HAVE to wear that band, like it or not…”

I shake my head and say, “No, Miss Ferguson. I don’t think you can MAKE me do that.”

She sighs and says, “No…not me. Your mother or Angi may see it differently, though. They have already threatened to pull you out here to go to a private school if we can’t contain the danger. Maybe they are right…”

I want to scream and yell about how unfair this all is. I shake my head and say, “No…I’m not giving in—not yet…”

Ronnie says, “Well, for now, I want you to go to the nurse’s office to use the restroom. I know that’s hugely inconvenient, but, the best I can do until I come up with something better…”

I glare at Graham as I walk past him, Butch in tow. I simply ignore Dick-enson’s ramblings and storm into the hall. I almost run into Jackie who is waiting there with a group of girls.

She asks, “Paige, are you OK?”

I nod and say, “I guess. I’m relegated to using the nurse’s station as my own private little restroom—for now. This all just SUCKS, Jackie…”

Jackie says, “Yeah…about the restroom, though… I…ummm…I looked into the law. It’s very specific and applies ONLY to transgender students. There’s nothing about those that aren’t. I also checked the school’s code—there’s nothing there that really prohibits NON-TG students from using the other gender’s restroom. It’s an unintended loophole, I’m sure. My Mom’s a lawyer and she helped me look into it all. She’s ready to file a stay in court to prohibit any change in the school’s code… So, come on…”

I look at her confused. She leads me—and the whole band of five other girls to the boys’ restroom. She pulls me in and they all make sour faces as Frenchie says, “EWWWE! It STINKS in here! Come on, girls, let’s hurry up and finish our business!”

There are three boys in the restroom at the urinals and they nearly pee all over themselves in surprise. They just gawk as the girls take turn in the stalls; one in and one standing watch at each door. When we are all done, we take over the sinks and mirror to check our makeup.

My lip is still swollen and sore, but I can’t help grin at the look and the guy’s faces as they watch us. Two of them actually used to be pretty good friends—now, they won’t talk to me. I sigh and carefully put gloss on my lips.

We leave the bathroom and run right into Ronnie as we exit. She does NOT look happy.

Thirty minutes later, she is grinning, though—after Jackie brings her up to speed.

She says, “Brilliant! Not the BEST solution, but very creative… Now, I just have to figure out how to keep the boys out of the GIRLS’ bathroom… Anyway, your Mom is taking the case to court against the wristbands? Does she really think she can win? And who’s paying?”

Jackie says, “She’s doing it pro-bono. But, the ACLU is kicking in support, too.”

Paulette, who is among the group says, “Jackie’s Mom is one of the best lawyers in the State. If anyone can do it, she can!”

Ronnie nods and says, “Well, be careful, girls. It seems Paige’s security detail just grew some today—and got much more diverse!”

We all giggle and she sends us on to class.

o~O~o

Later, I run into Terry Morrison in the hall on the way to fourth period. Terry used to be my best friend in ninth grade—then, we sort of split ways when we got to high school; I’m not even sure why. He walks up to me and matches my stride.

He says, “Hi…Paige, is it?”

I nod and say, “Hi, Terry. It’s been a while…”

He says, “Yeah…so…do you maybe want to talk…you know…later?”

I slow down and look over at him. He doesn’t have a mean look on his face—if anything, there is an honestly friendly look on his face. He is the first guy that has really shown any sort of true interest in…me…

I say, “Sure. Do you have a free period? Mine is fifth. I have to go to ballet straight after school, or we could go for a coffee…”

He nods and says, “I have fifth free, too. Want to meet by old Rawlings’ statue?”

I say, “Sure. Sounds good. And, Terry…thanks!”

He just nods and moves on ahead to get to his class.

I suffer through French, my fourth period class, and hurry to the statue on the grounds that is the likeness of the ‘town hero’ and who the school is named after.

Terry is already standing there when I arrive. He says, “Hey, Paige.”

I sit on the bench by the statue and he sits down next to me. He asks, “So…don’t take this the wrong way…but, what’s going on? I’ve know you a long time…and you never showed any interest in being a girl. Don’t get me wrong…I could care less. I just don’t get it.”

I nod and sigh. I look at him and he is looking at me, intent on understanding.

Finally, I decide to tell him the truth. I say, “OK, Terry. You were always a really good friend. But…please don’t let others know what I’m about to tell you. It’s really no one’s business…”

He simply nods and I know I can trust that nod.

I tell him the whole story and his eyes bug out in places. When I am done, he is more than just pissed.

He asks, “And what happened to that jackass that tricked you into this?”

I shake my head and say, “Suffice it to say that he is paying for his crime…”

He nods and says, “Well, I hope it has something to do with rotting in Hell…”

I giggle and say, “Something like that…”

Terry says, “And…you’re really doing OK? I mean…”

I sigh and say, “Yeah…mostly. If people would just let me be me… All of this TG stuff is ridiculous. I’m still ME, you know… Girl…boy…it doesn’t really matter. That is window-dressing for me, at this point. I can’t truly be either…this is just what I can be closer to than anything. But…I’m still me…”

Terry nods and says, “Yeah, it sucks, man… Oops! Well, you know what I mean!”

I giggle and he looks at me in a funny way and says, “You really ARE adjusting to your new lot in life… Well, I promise to keep your confidence…but, it might help if others knew…”

I shake my head and say, “But, it shouldn’t MATTER!”

He nods and says, “I get it…you always WERE a stickler on principle. Just think about it, though… I know that Joey and Gavin have asked me if I know anything… Don’t you think they deserve to understand, too?”

I sigh and feel tears welling in my eyes. I force them back and say, “OK…I’ll think about it…”

We hurry to make it to our sixth period class—the last of the day for us.

o~O~o

Ballet is tough the first time back after break and I am beat when I get out. I really just want to go home and soak in a hot tub of really bubbly water. So, I am not really too happy to see Joey and Gavin waiting for me when I get home.

Momma just shrugs and leaves us in the kitchen to talk. Misty puts out a pitcher of lemonade and the two gawk at her—I am sure she does look really weird to someone at first sight. Well, she looks weird to ME and I am WELL past first sight…

After Misty withdraws, Joey says, “Terry told us he had talked to you today. He wouldn’t tell us ANYTHING you told him, though. Vi…Paige…we were BEST friends until this past summer—then you were gone to that camp and we had NO idea where you were—you just cut us off, man… Then you come back to school…as a girl…”

I sigh and say, “I’m sorry, guys. It wasn’t my choice not to let you know where I was; there was a strict no-phone policy at camp. NO ONE knew where I was outside of my Momma.”

Gavin shakes his head and asks, “So…what gives? You just woke up from Butch plowing you over and decide to be a girl? Dude…ette… Come on! We don’t care if that’s what you want. We may not understand it—but, I for one, would like to.”

Joey nods and says, “Yeah…it’s sort of scary that we never had ANY idea…”

I sigh and can’t fight back the tears this time. I say, “It’s because there wasn’t any idea for you TO have, you jerks!”

I finally smile through my tears to let them know I’m not mad at them…and I tell them the story. I know that Misty is lurking in the background, so I lay some of it on thick—and wonder if there is any remorse in her at this moment, at all.

The guys are, like Terry was, totally pissed. They are ready to get a mob and lynch Allen (they never met him—and, of course, have no idea he and Misty are the same person).

I say, “Relax guys. Allen is paying for what he did…it is actually a much worse punishment than what I’m going through, in a way. I didn’t ask that it turn out this way—for either of us. As for me, please don’t worry about me, guys. I’ll be fine, if people will just stop treating me like a freak and just let me be ME… I told Terry this today and I’ll tell you. I’m still ME inside. Am I doing girly things now? Yes…but that’s just because, you know me—I have to be the best at whatever I do… If I’m going to be a girl, well… BUT, I’ll still kick BOTH of your butts at Battlefront!”

We talk for a bit more and I see them to door and FINALLY go to get that bath…

o~O~o

The rest of the week is nothing but strange…

As it is, a load of boys DO go to the girls’ bathroom when it gets out what we had started. It doesn’t really last long, though… Once they figure out that there is nothing to see…and that there are only lines for the stalls…or chatty girls putting on makeup at the mirror…they mostly give up. I have no idea what they THOUGHT they would see (well, thinking back to my ‘Vick’ days, maybe I do…), but by the end of the day, most guys are back in the boys’ room—but, then again, so am I with my posse…

Terry, Joey, and Gavin all start treating me almost like nothing ever happened. Of course, something DID happen and things AREN’T the same, but we start working through it and my little band of people that see me as a person and not a ‘thing’ is growing.

Jackie’s mom DOES file that lawsuit on Wednesday. I am told not to expect anything soon, though…

What DOES happen soon, by Thursday night that is, is an emergency session of the school board and ‘concerned’ parents (like 98% of the parents in school). Thanks to Jackie’s mom’s preemptive strike, there is nothing they can change in the school code until after the court rules. Of course, this just riles the parents up even more and they threaten to wholesale keep their kids home…

All of the controversy leads to an emergency ruling on Friday by the Circuit Court that the law requiring TGs to wear a wristband to go to the bathroom of their legal gender is unconstitutional—and so is the school’s code regarding transgendered individuals. The board IS allowed to change the school code to require kids to GO to the bathroom that corresponds with their legal status, though.

All of this means that, starting Monday, guys will go to the boys’ room and gals will go to the girls’ room—and that includes me!

So call me bummed when Jackie calls me on Sunday and says, “I have bad news, Paige—Mom heard through channels that the appeals court is taking up the wristband issue on appeal…”

I will once again be extremely busy with work-related issues the rest of the week and will likely not get another chapter posted until this weekend. Paige will return in all her glory at that point, though!

HUGS!

Monday morning arrives all too quickly and my head is awash with conflicting emotions and thoughts…

I know that I will be going to the GIRLS’ bathroom today, which is, as all along, not that big an issue to ME. BUT, because the appeals court is taking on the wristband case, the lower court’s decision is being put on hold—meaning that I WILL have to wear the band. At this point, there is no choice—the school code has been changed forcing me into the girls’ bathroom based on my legal status as ‘female’. The state law forces me into the wristband based on my status as ‘transgender’. My only other option is to give in to Angi and go to private school (or home schooling, I guess would be another possibility, if not currently an option).

I sigh and feel like punching the big stuffed bear on my bed. I resist and get ready instead.

For some reason, I decide to go EXTRA-girly today. I push the school dress code limits to the max and Angi nearly chokes when I come down the stairs in five-inch stilettos, an ultra-short (well, by school standards) skirt, and a ton (well, again by school standards) of cleavage showing. There is a waft of the most flowery perfume I have that follows me.

She chokes back a giggle and asks tongue-in-cheek, “Is there something up I need to know about? Some interview, maybe…?”

I grin and shake my head, “No…I just felt like…THIS…,” I motion to my clothes with my hands, “I don’t know… It just seems…RIGHT, you know?”

Mummy says, “Well, no…” She laughs at the look on my face and continues, “But as long as you have a reason…”

I grab some coffee and a bagel and we are off to school. Mummy drives today—she is not quite ready to turn her baby over to my five-inch heels (or so SHE says…) I eat my bagel and sip my coffee on the way. When we get there, I flip down the visor and quickly add some lip gloss, take a deep breath, and accept a quick kiss on the cheek before getting out.

Cognizant of the VERY short skirt I have on, I am extra careful to swivel my legs out, closely held together, and look every bit the role of a really hot girl getting out of the Porsche in my towering heels…

I make my way inside and to the front office where I know Ronnie is waiting for me. I make my way past a smirking Mrs. DICK-enson to Ronnie’s office and knock. I enter when I hear the requisite, “Come on in!”

Ronnie smiles at me and exclaims, “My! Paige—you’re certainly pushing the limits, today. But, you look AWESOME, girl!”

I smile and thank her.

She continues, “Well, as I know YOU know, the court has put things on hold—and the school board has changed the rules around here… Soooooo….you DO have to use the proper bathroom and other facilities, now. Buuuut, you also have to wear this, I’m afraid…”

She holds out a beautiful bracelet—I’m stunned at it.

She giggles and says, “The law species the minimum requirements for the wristband. This clearly meets those requirements—it is green and conspicuous. The fact that it is not some cheap rubber thing that some stupid senator was envisioning is beside the point.”

I admire the oxidized (and thus green) copper band that is studded with emeralds and diamonds. I know the stones are fake, but it is still a beautiful piece of art.

She smiles and says, “Each one is unique—yours actually has REAL stones, so please be careful with it.”

I look at her in shock. I stutter, “R…r…real stones? Wait! Each one? Are you expecting more of…’us’…?”

She giggles and says, “Well, I’m sure there will be more transgendered kids that will come through here, eventually. But, no, that’s not what I meant. See? Mine is different than yours! Well, and mine doesn’t have REAL stones—I don’t have the benefactor that YOU do!”

I look at her wrist and notice for the first time that she is wearing a similar bracelet. I am stunned into complete silence.

She smiles and says, “You have quite the enterprising friends… You should hurry on to class—you don’t want to be late. Don’t forget to put on your bracelet, though. I’m afraid I must insist!”

I put the bracelet on, as if in a trance, and walk out the door and past Mrs. DICK-enson. I think I hear her mumble something about ‘sluts’, but I can’t be sure. I actually forget all about it as I notice several of the girls that walk past me wearing similar bracelets to mine—each one unique, though…

Then I nearly fall out when I notice that several GUYS are wearing bracelets, too. They are somewhat wider than the ones the girls are wearing, but have the same basic design elements.

I nearly run into Jackie and Paulette as I watch this spectacle—wide-eyed.

Jackie giggles and says, “HEY! Watch it, girl!” Then after I don’t respond, “Earth to Paige! Come in, Paige!”

I shake my head and blink. I ask, “What in the world is going on?”

Jackie laughs and says, “Well…if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?”

I give her a blank look.

She giggles and says, “When I found out what was happening with the courts, I asked Mom for some details. It turns out that there are specific details that have to be met for the wristbands, according to the law, but there are loopholes big enough to drive the moon through. YOUR wristband has to be unique and distinguishable as one for transgendered individuals—a girl, in your case.”

I say, “OK, I’ll bite…go on…”

She nods and says, “Well, YOURS is distinguishable from any others in that it has REAL stones…and it is an 1/8 of an inch NARROWER than any other out there. Also, YOURS is the only one with emeralds… The GUYS’ bands are 3/16 of inch WIDER than any of the girls’—including YOURS…”

I am still lost and admit it, “OK, but why are people wearing these? I mean…”

Paulette chimes in, “Well, I have a friend that likes to make jewelry. Jackie’s Mom paid her for a whole box of these she was making for an upcoming art and jewelry show—123 in all… She had to make one especially for you really quickly—but, it was an overall win-win. We’re GIVING them away—just asking for a voluntary donation, if they’re so inclined. They went away like hotcakes—and we’ve made over $300.00 for any cause that you choose. Although, it has to be an official charity,” she giggles.

I am blown away, “Your Mom paid for these, Jackie? Really? Why?” I feel tears coming on and know I am not going to be able to stop them.

Jackie comes over and hugs me. She says, “You’re my FRIEND, dufus! Plus, she genuinely wants to right this wrong. My parents are PLENTY wealthy enough to send me to ANY of the private schools around. My Mom is a supporter of public education, though—so, she wants it right!”

I smile at her through the tears flooding my eyes and flowing down my cheek. I look at Paulette and she smiles brightly. She says, “I prefer to stay a mystery to ALL, Sweetie! That is my strength!” She giggles profusely.

I roll my eyes in fun and they both pull me to the girls’ room to fix my makeup.

We go in and it is nearly empty, since the bell is about to ring. The girls in there (I don’t know them, really) don’t give me a second look—other than at my ‘racoon’ eyes and quickly leave. I do hear them muttering, as the leave, something about it must have something to do with my boyfriend… It feels really good to be accepted at that level. Even if they likely DON’T realize it is ME they are talking about—I am just one of the girls with a girl’s problems...

I make it to class just before the second bell rings and barely make it to my seat. I notice four others in the classroom wearing a bracelet. Since there are about 1200 students in the school, there is only about one bracelet available for every ten students—PLUS, they will have to wear them at some steady frequency for this to have a real impact, but I can’t help getting a REALLY warm feeling in my heart at the level of friendship these girls have shown me.

The level of friendships that I am developing—or maybe better said, maintaining—becomes clear at lunch. I make my way to the cafeteria and run into Terry, Joey, and Gavin. Terry and Joey are both wearing bracelets and Gavin looks a little down.

He explains, “They were out of bands by the time I got to the box, so I had to add my name to the waitlist.”

I give him a look that clearly conveys my confusion.

Terry says, “There was such a high demand for the bands—especially after people found out what they are REALLY for—that there is a list with another over 300 names on it. Brenda, Paulette’s friend is going to be a very busy girl for the next couple of weeks—not to mention make a hefty profit. She has even agreed to give ten percent of her overall proceeds to your pot. Have you decided who to give the money to, yet? I hear there are people going back and donating even more!”

At that moment, Jackie comes over and says, “Yes, that’s true. We’re at over $600.00, with another over $200.00 pledged.”

Joey says, “Be careful, though guys. There IS a faction at school that is REALLY unhappy about this—while we have diluted the target on PAIGE’S back…we have painted one on our own. We’re going to have to be vigilant, OK?”

I pale and say, “You guys shouldn’t have done that—you need to take them off!”

I see a resounding shaking of the heads. Gavin says, “Sorry, Paige—this isn’t just about YOU! This community needs to get into the twenty-first century.” He blushes and says, “You may have been the catalyst, but there is much more at stake here than you know…”

Before I can get any more out of him, lunch is over and we have to go back to class. I make it clear, though, that this discussion is not over.

o~O~o

I stand in front of the girls’ locker room door after school and nervously shift my feet. It is time for the first cheerleading practice and after this whole day of surprises, I am not sure what to expect now.

I jump when I hear, “You just going to stand there and block the door or are you going in?” The serious tone dissolves into a giggle as I turn around and see Chrissy coming up behind me.

I sigh and say, “I guess I’m going in. I’m just not sure what to expect.”

Chrissy smiles a genuine smile and says, “I think you’ll be OK.” She holds up her arm to show me the green copper band on her arm.

I shake my head in wonderment and follow her in. Flo, Penelope, and the others are getting ready and neither blink an eye at me coming in. I go to the locker that now has my name on it and start getting ready. I am not at all self-conscious about the fact that I am in a room of girls getting ready—after all, it is no different at camp. I AM surprised that they don’t seem to care, though.

Finally, Flo, sensing my insecurity, says, “Paige. Relax—we don’t care. You have never given any of us the sense that you’re anything but a girl.”

I sigh and nod my head. I say, “Thanks, Flo. It…it…”

Penelope says, “Girls, go on out and start warming up. I want to speak to Paige alone a minute. Ginny, you’re in charge—get them whipped into shape!”

The girls quickly file out and I hear Ginny yelling at them, like some drill sergeant, to get warmed up.

Penelope rolls her eyes and says, “I swear that girl needs to join the army!”

I giggle nervously.

Penelope looks at me and says, “Paige, I want you to know some things—this stays between us girls, though—as in between US, OK?”

Surprised, I nod.

She continues, “Paulette tells me you’re in a serious and committed relationship with another girl. Is that true?”

I simply nod. She nods back thoughtfully. Finally, after a few seconds, she seems to steel her resolve and says, “OK, that helps. I know I have the reputation of being a bitch—a real mean girl. That is really a sham—a façade to hide the real me. I don’t know how long you have known that you’re a girl, but…I have known that I’m gay for quite some time. It’s something that I’m certainly NOT ashamed of, but something that I’m sure you understand I can’t really let out in this environment. Or, at least I thought so…”

I quietly listen.

She continues, “When you came in, I was—correctly, I have to say—afraid that it would shine an unwanted light on the LGBT community here at school. There has historically been a tenuous ‘truce’—sort of like used to be in the military—of don’t ask, don’t tell…”

I nod, but remain silent.

She looks at me and says, “Now, I have to say, I’m STILL scared of how this will all turn out—but, I think it’s a GOOD thing it’s finally being forced out into the open…”

I blink…and wait for the other shoe to drop.

She smiles and says, “I know you think that I was giving you a raw deal at try-outs. It’s true—I WAS discriminating against you because you’re TG. It had nothing to do with me being bigoted, though—I simply didn’t want the spotlight on the team.”

I nod slowly.

She continues, “Well, and honestly, I was a little jealous at the attention my girlfriend was giving you. She was finally able to convince me that there was nothing to worry about and that you needed to be a part of this team. I had a reputation to uphold, though—so, I put you on as reserve. I will have to say, you really CAN dance, girl!”

Then it hits me. I look at her and ask, “You mean, you and…”

She laughs and says, “Yes, Paulette and I have been together since our sophomore year. Our plan was to keep it quiet until after senior year; then graduate and lead our life together as it should be. That’s why I ask you to keep this to yourself, at least for now. VERY few people REALLY know—although, I’m sure many more suspect.”

“Well, THAT explains a LOT,” I giggle. I go over and give her a hug and say, “Your secret is safe with me!”

She hugs me back and says, “OK, enough of this mushy stuff—get out there and get warmed up!”

I run and see Paulette on the sidelines; she just gives me a conspiratory wink.

o~O~o

I get up, extremely sore from last night’s practice, and get myself ready for another day. I can’t help but wonder if there can be anything that could top yesterday’s surprises. I guess I shouldn’t have thrown that out to the universe—it was not a challenge, though, I promise!

I get out of Mummy’s Porsche and click up the front steps. I’m not AS close to the limits of the rules today, but I AM certainly dressed as the girly-girl I am now labeled. Frenchie comes up the steps from the other side at the same time I do.

She greets me with a hug and we walk in together. Then I notice it—there is a strange…tension…in the air. I look at Frenchie and it is clear that she senses it, too.

Jackie comes over and hugs us. She says, “Be careful, girls. It seems there is a new wristband that’s becoming popular here at school—the ‘purist’ band. If you see someone sporting a red band, be careful. Paige, Miss Ferguson wants to see us in an hour.”

I look around and see a smattering of red bands—red copper with red stones. I later find out that the boys have rubies and the girls have garnets.

Jackie and I go to the front office at the allotted time and I can’t help but notice the red band on Mrs. DICK-enson’s wrist. She glowers at us and tells us to take a seat.

After several minutes, a group of boys and girls, led by Gerald Graham comes out of Ronnie’s office. They all have the new red bands.

Ronnie motions us in and surprises me by saying, “Hi girls, please have a seat. We’re waiting on a few other people.” I can’t help but notice the green band on her desk and not on her arm.

After a few minutes, Felix, Butch, Terry, Joey, and Gavin filter in—then Penelope and Paulette. My jaw drops. It hits the floor when Momma, Mummy, and Sheila walk in with another woman that I don’t know—until Jackie whispers in my ear that it is her Mom.

Ronnie has us all sit at the big conference table and calls the impromptu meeting to order.

She says, “Good morning, everyone. I want to thank all of you for coming in. This is a serious matter, that I’m afraid is further complicating things here at school and now has the police involved. They are investigating whether the bands constitute ‘gang’ insignia. Until that has been cleared up, I’m not going to put a stop to the bands—because I can’t stop one side without stopping the other.”

Sheila and Mrs. O’Dell both nod their heads.

Ronnie continues, “So,” she looks at Felix and Butch, “I’m going to ask you two to continue keeping an eye out on Paige. At least it’s not bathroom duty, for now. The rest of you have volunteered in other ways…”

Terry speaks up, “Yes, Miss Ferguson. Joey, Gavin and I will be more eyes and ears and lookouts. We can’t be the physical sort of lookout like Felix and Butch, but we CAN be supportive in other ways.”

Ronnie nods and Penelope speaks up, “Paulette and I have talked this over. It’s not fair that Paige bear this completely on her own. We’re going to publicly acknowledge our relationship.”

I gasp and Paulette reaches over and grabs my hand.

Penelope continues, “Furthermore, we had a quick meeting with the rest of the cheer squad—sorry, Paige, but you couldn’t be involved.” I nod and she continues, “There was a unanimous decision that Paige is one of us and she is firmly behind the Pom-Pom fortress. I may not have that much sway in that regard after I go public, but trust me when I say the rest do. I guess we will both benefit from that fortress together, Paige.”

I fight the tears and nod with a trembling lip.

Sheila speaks up, “Grace and I,” she looks at Jackie’s Mom and continues, “have been talking. She is clearly more the expert in these matters than I, but we’re pooling resources and we have the legal part of this covered—I’m SURE this will end up in court. The problem is that there will be appeals, no matter who wins. This could ultimately end up in front of the Supreme Court. I can’t even guarantee that this will be resolved by the time PAIGE graduates.”

Mrs. O’Dell nods and looks at Penelope and Paulette and asks, “Are you sure you want to do this? It is a near impossibility that this will be resolved this year—and you have successfully stayed under the radar, so far.”

Paulette grabs Penelope’s hand and says, “Yes, Mrs. O’Dell. We’re sure.”

She nods her head and says, “OK. Everyone in this room is very brave. Let’s make sure that everyone stays safe. By the way, I’m sure that everyone has noticed that Ms. Ferguson isn’t wearing her band. Regardless of her personal beliefs, she can’t take sides in this—officially—by wearing a band. It is, however, clear that she is on the side of justice, so thank you, Ms. Ferguson!”

Ronnie blushes as loud applause and cheers erupt around the room—and the meeting adjourns.

The adults all stay behind for a little more talk and the group of us students file out. Mrs. DICK-enson glares at us all again as we open the door to the hall. We file out, talking amongst ourselves, and walk right up on a large wall of red-banded students that is clearly blocking our way.

I look at Butch and Felix and know that if things get ugly, there is no way they can handle this many. That idiot Graham is out front and center of the crowd—many of which are on the football team. They don’t look at all friendly. And to think I used to be friends with most of them—even George and Rupe, my former best friends.

Before anyone can make a move, Chrissy and Ginny come up behind us in full cheerleading uniforms. They stand out in front of our group and glare at the football players on the other side.

Ginny says, “OK, for those boys IDIOT enough to do anything stupid, remember that you HAVE or WANT girlfriends… The cheerleaders will NOT have ANYTHING to do with ANYONE that discriminates against ANYONE that is a lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgendered. Do I make myself clear?”

There is a lot of grumbling, then mumbling, then quiet as the footballers slink off. That cuts the other crowd in half—at least in terms of bulk. We stand a chance…

At that moment, there is an announcement over the PA, “All students will go to the auditorium IMMEDIATELY for an emergency assembly. Please do so in a quiet and orderly manner.”

Before the shock of the announcement can wear off either side, Ronnie comes up behind our group from her office and says, “Oh, good. I see some of you are already on your way. Come along then.”

We start walking and I slip up beside Ronnie and say, “Just in the nick of time.”

She says grimly, “I just HAPPENED to see the monitor as it switched to this camera’s view. I’m going to have to have a talk with Mrs. Dickenson, who was just watching it all play out.”

We all file into the auditorium; Ronnie last. The teachers are keeping a careful eye out for any sign of violence.

When everyone is seated and Ronnie has called for silence, she starts out by saying into the microphone, “I want to say that I am both as horrified by the recent events in this school as I am proud. There is a group of students who has done everything in their power to support the victim of a heinous crime and I am supremely proud of them. There is another group of students—and administration/faculty—who have been doing quite the opposite. I am horrified by that—and will NOT stand for it!”

There is a lot of mumbling that makes its way through the crowd.

Ronnie calls for silence again and says, “There are a few students who have decided to say some things today—and one in particular, who I HOPE decides to do so before this is over. Penelope…”

Penelope goes up to the microphone and says in a nervous, but steady voice, “Hi, everyone. As you know, I have been the proud head cheerleader since I was voted into that role at the end of last year. This, being my senior year, will be my last—so, it’s time to be completely honest… Paulette…?”

Paulette comes up onto the stage with Penelope and to the microphone. Penelope takes her hand and continues, “To my FRIENDS, I’m actually ‘Penny’. You have to EARN that right to call me that, though. At this point, there is only one person in this school that I allow to call me that—and, up until now, only off school grounds. That is my GIRLFRIEND, Paulette. Yes, I mean girlfriend as in lesbian couple.”

She looks at me and says, “Paige, you have earned that honor now, as well. As have a few others I will let know later.” She looks at Paulette and gives her a kiss, then says, “Paulette, I guess we don’t have to hide it anymore.”

There is stunned silence, then “Ooooos” and “Ewwwwws” in the crown as Paulette kisses Penny back and says, “Nope! I love you, Penny!”

Ronnie takes the microphone back and says, “OK, girls…let’s limit the PDA, OK?” She is grinning ear to ear, though.

After Penny and Paulette get down, there is a small string of others that go to the microphone and make it publicly known that they are lesbian, gay, or bisexual. I am floored when one of those individuals is Terry, who admits that he is ‘bi’. Suddenly, Felix goes from being THE openly gay person in school to being ONE of them...

Ronnie looks at me with a questioning, but encouraging look. I sigh and go to the microphone.

I take a deep breath and say, “I know that most—well, likely ALL of you that knew me before this summer—were surprised when I came back to school as a girl. There are very few here that actually know the truth behind that fact. Yes, I am now a girl—legally. Yes, I am classified as transgendered—legally. No, I did not CHOOSE to be a girl—at least not originally.”

There is a large murmuring in the crowd.

I continue, “You may have heard transgendered people say they were BORN the wrong sex and that they have no choice—any more than any ‘normal’ boy or girl.” I make air quotes around normal.

There is more buzz.

I continue, “That is NOT what I mean when I say I had no choice—although I completely believe those that ARE TG when they say that. What I mean is that, when I woke up from my concussion—it was actually more like a mini-coma—I was TRICKED into attending a camp for the LGBT community. That in and of itself would not have been a problem—but I was deceived into thinking by someone I trusted that there was an ‘entrance exam’ to get into the camp. I was given the answers by that person I trusted and told it was my only option to attend a camp over the summer. The thing is…that ‘exam’ was actually an LGBT spectrum profile—and because I had the answers, I got a ‘perfect score’ for being transgendered.” I again used air quotes.

The buzz gets louder.

I sigh and continue, “I was then further convinced that the camp was a ‘creative’ camp and that I shouldn’t question it, if I was asked to do girly things—that was supposedly just part of it. You have to remember, because of what I was told by that person, I thought that I would be stuck in the hospital ALL summer if I didn’t go along…”

The buzz turns into a roar.

I motion for quiet and continue, “By the time I—and my doctor—figured out that it was all a scheme to turn me into a girl, it was too late. I had already started an irreversible experimental treatment. I had—HAVE—in reality two options. Continue developing as a girl—or stay where I currently am developmentally for the rest of my life. At the time I was originally faced with the decision, I had barely started showing signs of female puberty…”

There are loud shouts of rage.

I let it go on for a bit and then say above the uproar, “I decided to become a girl—and I’m proud of my decision. Yes, I started all of this controversy by coming to school here—but the person that really started it was going to be my stepfather and he did it all in an attempt to take over my family company. So—here I am; the freak that some of you so love to hate!”

All of a sudden there is an eerie quiet—I am not sure if it is shock or shame. Then a voice from the audience, “What happened to your stepfather?”

I shrug and say, “He isn’t—and never will be—my stepfather. He is being punished—that is all I will say about that…”

Ronnie comes and gives me a hug and takes over the microphone.

She says, “OK, now that it is all out in the open, I expect that this red versus green nonsense will CEASE! I don’t care if you want to wear a bracelet in support of whatever. The police have ruled the bracelets out as gang insignia—FOR NOW. If there is ANY sort of violence around this, however, I WILL have the police in here and there WILL be an investigation into a HATE CRIME. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”

There is dead silence.

She asks again, “DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”

There is a mumbling of what sounds like acquiescence.

She says, “Good! DISMISSED!”

I wish I could say that was the end of it—unfortunately, I can’t. But more about that later…

Oh, and remember George and Rupe, my best friends before the accident—the ones that sort of replaced Terry, Joey, and Gavin? The ones that I always got a ride with to practice BEFORE Allen came along? The ones in the ‘red’ group about to do…whatever before assembly? After my talk on the stage—they come around to me completely red-faced and want to be friends again. I notice the red bands are gone. I MAY forgive them. (Of course I will—but they will have to stew a bit, first!)

o~O~o

I get home that evening after cheerleading practice—AND an hour of private ballet lessons. Needless to say, I am BEAT! But, the physical activity was good to help relieve the stress. Mummy just drops me off and has to go to some meeting with Momma, Sheila, Mrs. O’Dell, and a bunch of others.

I go inside and am glad to know that Misty has the ‘night off’. I know she is down in the guest house—but she won’t bother me. Of that I am sure—well, PRETTY sure. I lock the doors, just in case.

I run a HOT, bubbly bath and relax in it after dialing Francie and putting her on speakerphone. I let her in on the day’s events—and, of course, she is both appalled and excited at the same time. I get out of the tub when the water gets cold and tell my love good night.

I pamper myself with lotion and am surprised when I get a text message. I recognize the number instantly and feel sick when I see it.

It is ALBERT’S number.

I look at the text and read it with dread, ”Hi, Paige. I know you never want to hear from me again, but I really had nothing to do with my father’s evil ways. Yes, I have been a pain to you as a kid, but isn’t that what kids do? (smiley face) Can we talk? Please? I can call you if you will let me. Your ‘almost’ sister, Alecia.

I wipe the tears from my eyes. I can’t believe the twerp that ratted me out to Momma about all that stupid small stuff wrote this…

I text back, ”Hi, Alecia. Yes, you may call me. You have my number. (smiley face)”

My phone rings almost immediately. I answer, “Hi,…Alecia…is it, now?”

I hear a distinctly different voice on the other end of the phone. One that seems more mature—and much more conflicted. She says, “Yes. My grandparents helped me choose it. Do you like it?”

I say, “It’s a pretty name—but the main thing is that YOU like it. How are you doing?”

She says, “I…I…I don’t know. I’m so confused. Not about who I am…I AM Alecia. I always have been…”

I wait and when she doesn’t continue, I prompt her, “So…?”

I can tell she is crying. She says, “I… Well, my grandparents are SO supportive—even if they don’t know how to really handle this.”

It really hits me at that moment. I just turned fifteen, which makes Alecia thirteen…this has to be REALLY hard for her…

She continues, “There aren’t really any support groups in the little town they…we live in—the closest one is over an hour away. They try… I suppose I’m lucky, though. I’ve heard about that law there—at least in this State there isn’t anything like that—although, I’ve heard they may try to put one in here, too.”

I continue quietly listening.

She keeps talking, “No one at school knows anything about Albert—I was able to just start here as Alecia, which has been great. But, I can’t do any sports—and I have to use the bathroom in the nurse’s office. Everyone thinks it’s just because of a medical condition… My grandparents are the ones that want it that way—they’re just afraid someone will find out and I will get bullied…”

Finally, she gets to the million-dollar question.

She asks, “Paige, how do you handle it? It’s all so overwhelming!”

I sigh. I’m not a counselor—she really needs someone like Mummy…

I say, “Well, I AM a little older, Alecia. That helps. I also have a lot of family and friends that help support me. I didn’t want anyone to know—getting it out has both helped and complicated things. I don’t have THE answer for you, Sweetie. Would you like me to see if maybe Mummy…Angi…can talk to you over the phone? She is good at these things…”

I can hear her sniffle. She says, “Would you? I don’t know that my grandparents can afford another doctor, though. The one I’m going to doesn’t specialize in these things, but he is doing the best he can…”

I fight back more tears. I still can’t believe this is the little monster that tormented me just a few months ago.

I say, “Let me see what I can do, Alecia. OK? And you can call me anytime you need to. Just text me first, OK? Just to make sure I have time at that moment.”

She says, “Thank you, Paige. I really AM sorry for the way I treated you as Albert. I was just REALLY confused then and it just came out that way…”

I say, “It’s OK, Hon. Bye for now, OK?”

I hang up and let the tears flow for a few minutes; all of them for someone that I never thought I would EVER give a damn about.

o~O~o

After Momma and Mummy fill me in on the results of the big legal meeting, I fill them in on my conversation with Alecia.

At first, Momma is reluctant to get involved. Mummy, on the other hand is more willing.

She says, “Dawn—that poor child has nothing to do with her father. She has the opportunity to grow up in a loving environment and flourish—a LOT of people her grandparent’s age struggle with how to deal with these types of issues and it seems they are doing their best to support, Alecia.”

Momma says, “I know, Love. Give me at least a moment to be human and wallow in repulsion…” She giggles at the looks on our faces and continues, “OK. Moment over—so, what do you propose? I don’t think it best to bring her and Misty together in any way—at least not yet…”

Mummy says, “Oh, I absolutely agree—that would only complicate things even more for the poor girl. Let me give her grandparents a call tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do…”

o~O~o

School the next day is strange…almost…’normal’… If there is such a thing, anyway. The ‘greens’ and the ‘reds’ sort of leave each other alone. It is a tenuous truce—that much is clear, though.

The schoolday ALMOST ends on a good note—but, then disaster strikes at the very end…

We are in cheerleading practice and Penny and Ginny are really giving us a workout. Ginny is showing us a complex routine and ends it with a beautiful handstand, followed by a flip. She lands with her left foot in a hidden gopher hole that collapses under her weight. Everyone distinctly hears her ankle snap with a sickening ‘crack’…

We all rush to her as she whimpers in pain. I help Penny support her and we get her into Paulette’s car; then we take her straight to Mummy’s clinic.

Mummy stabilizes the fracture and gives her some medication for the pain while we wait for her parents to arrive. They then take her straight to the larger hospital where she will undergo orthopedic surgery to repair the complex fracture.

Mummy looks at the gathered crowd of the entire cheerleading squad as we sit in the hospital waiting room while Ginny is in surgery. She says, “I’m sorry girls, but I’m afraid that is the end of Ginny’s cheerleading career—at the very least for this year…”

Penny asks, “Will she be OK? I mean…where did that hole COME from?”

Mummy says, “Well, that is something the school is going to have to look into. Obviously, gopher holes on the playing field is not a good thing. As for Ginny, we’ll have to wait for the surgery to be completed, but I think she will be fine. She’ll have a long recovery, though. That is a nasty fracture…”

Two hours later, the surgeon comes out and speaks to Ginny’s parents and Mummy. They come over and tell us the news after that.

Ginny’s Mom says, “She’s going to be fine, girls. The fracture was completely fixable, but she is going to be out of commission for cheerleading for this year.”

Penny asks, “When can we see her?”

The surgeon says, “Why don’t you girls go home for tonight—it’s late and it will be a while before she is out of recovery; she needs her rest for tonight. You can go in and see her tomorrow after school, OK?”

We are all disappointed that we can’t see her, of course, but we ARE happy that she will be OK.

We all go back to school to get the stuff we had just thrown in and abandoned in the locker room to get Ginny taken care of. Penny packs up her things to give to her Mom and she looks at me and says, “Well, Paige. It looks like you’re officially on the squad, now. I wish it were under better circumstances, but welcome to the team!”

I shake my head and say, “Me too. This is awful! I mean, I’m happy to be able to step in, but…poor Ginny…”

Paulette smiles and says, “I’m sure she’ll be on the sidelines with me in no time. There’s no doubt she’ll be a sideline driver—just wait, you’ll see!”

We all laugh at that and a little of the pressure is relieved. She WILL be OK…

We give each other a big group hug and all go home for the night.

o~O~o

I look at the clock. It is a little after ten o’clock—what a day! I sigh as I wash and moisturize my face. Just as I am done, there is a knock on my door and Mummy comes in.

She smiles as she sits on my bed and watches me finish up at my vanity. She says, “Well, THAT was an exciting day. Not the kind of excitement I would normally hope for—but, at least it is something fairly normal for a school. Accidents like this happen…”

I nod my head and say, “Yeah, I guess. I wonder what will happen now—no one is going to trust that field.”

Mummy nods and says, “No. I’m sure Ronnie will handle that, though. What I came to tell you is, before all the excitement, I talked to Alecia’s grandparents.”

I turn around to look straight at her instead of through the vanity mirror.

She says, “As you know—they’re now her legal guardians and really are trying their best to both understand and support Alecia. Being two states over doesn’t help things, but I have agreed to some counseling over the phone—to both them AND Alecia. I have also agreed to work with her doctor to make sure she gets the proper medical support for her transition.”

I nod, wondering where this is going.

She continues, “If you’re still willing, I think it would be great if you can maintain contact with her.”

I nod and say, “Of course. I already told her that.”

Mummy smiles and says, “We may also try and work something out for her to come here over her school break.”

I give her a strange look and ask, “Is that a good idea with Misty, and all…?”

Mummy gives me a sly look and says, “Of course not—she won’t be staying HERE… I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind staying at my old house with us during that time? It would only be for about a week…?”

I smile and say, “Of course I will—I can’t wait to see Albert in a dress! I will have Alecia ready for Pinkdom this summer—no prob!”

Mummy rolls her eyes and says, “Maybe I need to rethink this…”

I giggle and she says, “I want to fully evaluate and assess her so that she gets the best care she can… Please hold off on the ‘Pinkdom’ until I know her score?”

I giggle some more and say in a mock evil tone, “We’ll see…mwa-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa!”

Mummy throws a pillow at me and we both laugh. I hug her good night and am soon sound asleep.

Author's Note: This is a bit of a transition chapter--it takes some unexpected twists that not all will like. These are necessary to tie some pieces together in later chapters.

The rest of the week is comparatively slow compared to the beginning. I settle into my place as a full team member on the cheer squad—although, we have to practice in the gym until the field can be fully inspected and ‘de-gophered’.

Alecia calls me twice and is all excited about her stay here in a few weeks, when we have fall break.

Madame Pratt intensifies her torture of my poor body…

Momma and Mummy continue working with the legal team in all-out prep for the case, since there is no absolute guarantee when it will happen. It will likely be months, but COULD be next week for all we know.
The ‘reds’ are eerily quiet; the ‘greens’ are slowly growing in number—at the exact pace that Brenda can make the bracelets. The funds from the donations and proceeds from the sales are quickly growing and I have narrowed down the organizations to choose from to donate them to.

So, I get up on Saturday and look forward to the afternoon—Francie is coming home for the night! I quickly get dressed and go downstairs around 8:30 to get some breakfast. Momma is already downstairs and sitting at the kitchen table with a fresh carafe of coffee on the table. She is just pouring a cup.

She says, “Good morning, Love. Did you sleep well?”

I nod and get a cup for myself—then pour some of the steaming heaven into it.

Momma smiles and says, “Angi is sleeping in. How about we have some French Toast—like in the old days. Just us two?”

I smile and say, “That sounds great!”

Momma says, “Misty has even learned to make it right!”

My face falls a bit—I am not convinced of that.

Momma giggles at my face and says, “No, really.” She pushes a virtual button on her phone and Misty comes in a couple of minutes later.

She says, “Yes, Mistress?”

Momma looks at her and says, “Paige and I would like French Toast for breakfast. Make sure it is done right, this morning, Misty.”

I look at her. She is in a submissive stance—almost cowering. She is further feminized even than when I saw her yesterday morning (the last time I saw her). Her hair is now in a feminine ‘page-boy’ style—going towards a slight shag. It has obvious highlights in it. She is also wearing obvious women’s pumps with four-inch stiletto heels. Otherwise, she is in her normal female clothing that is more on the androgynous side.

She actually curtseys and says, “Yes, Mistress,” and moves quickly to start our breakfast.

I shake my head and Momma continues our conversation as if this were the most normal thing in the world. She says, “What are your plans today, Love? I know that Francie is coming in late this afternoon—I thought maybe we could go shopping? I need to pick up some things…and it looks like you could maybe use some new bras…”

I laugh—my bras ARE getting a little on the smallish side. My blooming breasts are having a harder and harder time staying confined in the cups. My nipples are still growing, as well as my areolae…there is no hiding anything now…

I nod and say, “OK, Momma. That sounds like fun. Are we waiting for Mummy—or is it just us?”

Momma laughs and says, “I love it when you call her ‘Mummy’—I’m so glad you and her get along so well. Why don’t we see if she is awake when we’re ready and play it by ear?”

I nod and Misty places a plate of hot French Toast in front of us each. To my surprise, it is quite good! I say, “This is wonderful, Misty. Great job!”

She smiles in spite of herself. Momma just says, “Yes, Misty, it’ll do. You may go back to your cleaning, now…”

When she is gone, I look at Momma with a frown and ask, “Was that called for?”

Momma just looks at me and says, “Sweetie, I love you, you know that—but you need to leave Misty to me. I know you don’t agree—or understand—but there IS a method to this particular madness… Trust me, Love.”

I sigh and shake my head—and finish my breakfast. I really hate the way Momma and Mummy treat Misty, but, then again it is not as if she were a good person, either… And SOMETHING must be happening—this French Toast is GREAT! Not something that Allen would have been able to do…

We finish our breakfast and leave the plates for Misty to clean up. Mummy is still asleep, so we go out to Momma’s Mercedes and she lets me drive. Thirty minutes later, we are getting out at the mall and going into Victoria’s Secret.

I am measured for new bras and discover that I am now nearly a C-cup. Close enough that the salesgirl recommends I go ahead and get that size rather than the B++ that I would otherwise need. It seems clear that I am still ‘developing’ and will likely ultimately need the larger size.

I pick out several bras and matching thong panties. I take them to the register and nearly choke when Momma comes over with a really sexy corset. I waggle my eyebrows at her and she laughs. She just says, “Misty asked for it…”

I look at her and she seems serious, so I just let it drop as she pays. We walk through the mall and I get a couple pair of heels and two dresses. As we are walking back towards the car, I can’t quit thinking about that sexy corset…

Finally, I say, “Momma, do you think I’m too young for a corset and garters?”

She stops dead in her tracks and looks at me. She sits down heavily on a nearby bench and says, “Now, that is something I NEVER expected to hear from my only child! I guess you really ARE becoming a young woman, Paige.”

She looks at me seriously for a couple of long minutes, then says, “Well, if you weren’t with Francie…and I didn’t know you two so well, I would say ABSOLUTELY! But, under the circumstances…”

She gets up and smiles as she leads me back into Victoria’s Secret.

A half an hour later, we are back in her car and I am driving home. I can’t WAIT until we go out tonight and then bedtime…

o~O~o

I groan—in very small breaths as Mummy pulls the corset tight. I have about thirty minutes to finish getting ready before Francie gets here.

Mummy giggles and says, “Are you sure you want me to keep on?”

I groan and choke out, “Yes! I can’t believe I talked myself into this thing, but it will be worth it, right?”

Mummy pulls the strings tighter and says, “Yes, you WILL get used to it, but I’m not sure I understand WHY you want it?”

I take a shallow breath—there isn’t enough room for anything more. She pulls some more and I whisper, “I…I…I don’t know. It just seems…SEXY. Don’t you think?”

Mummy giggles and says, “Well, yes, I’ll have to admit it is. It seems your hormones are in full bloom, young lady. It’s a good thing I know your girlfriend very well! I think I may have to rethink you having to wait until you’re sixteen for that special prosthetic vagina…”

She tugs one final time and I feel really faint. She ties the corset off and I struggle to breathe.

Mummy says, “Breathe from your chest, Love—shallow breaths, but from up top. There isn’t any way to breathe with your lower abdomen like you’re used to. It’s a matter of retraining yourself.”

I nod and focus on my breathing. It gets better—not good, but BETTER.

She says, “If you’re really serious about wearing these torture devices, we need to get you a training corset to wear—you will have to wear it as much as possible. Even sleep in it to get your body shaped and conditioned for it.”

I look in the mirror and like the look of my waist being pulled in the full three inches it is by the corset. I nod and say, “I think I want to. I like this look!”

Mummy shakes her head and helps me get my stockings on and attached to the garters on the corset. Then she helps me into my new dress. It is JUST long enough to cover the garters, but the tops of my stockings peek out as I move and look really sexy. Finally, she helps me into my five-inch stilettos and I practice walking in the corset.

Because it is so stiff, there is really no way I can bend. It is also harder to balance because everything has shifted. Ballet has corrected my posture immensely—this forces me to stand ram-rod straight. Madame Pratt would be proud.

The side effect I was not really expecting is that the area that is compressed from my waist is compressed UP. My almost C-cups look every bit like exploding D-cups—the cleavage is awesome, though!

I sit and practice breathing while Mummy goes to finish getting ready. Momma is already downstairs and waiting. I hear the doorbell and Francie and Momma talking after a few minutes and hurry to the stairs. Getting down them is a BIT more work than normal, but the effort is worth it when I see both Momma’s AND Francie’s expressions.

Francie comes over and hugs me…squeezing what little air I CAN get in out. She giggles at my ‘oof’ and Momma says, “I’m not sure I can go out with a sexy doll like you, Hon. You’ll make us ALL pale in comparison.”

“Speak for yourself, Love,” comes from the stairs. We look around and Mummy is full-on in competition with me—just without the corset.

Francie laughs and says, “WELL! We’ll just see about this!”

She disappears up the stairs to get ready and Momma shakes her head and says, “Well…give me a minute to change…”

When the four of us leave for our dinner reservation at one of the most sought after restaurants in the region, there is no doubt that we are oozing with femininity and, for whatever reason, I feel really good about myself.

Of course, we turn a lot of (male) heads when we get out of Momma’s Mercedes and confidently stroll into the restaurant. The male servers fall all over themselves trying to impress us…and we just smile. All in all, it is a wonderful supper. Of course, I become the designated driver…

When we get back home, it is late. Momma and Mummy go straight upstairs. I look at Francie—we BOTH know they are going to THE room. While we both know what is IN that room, we keep that knowledge to ourselves. I can’t help but think about what it would be like to be able use the ‘toys’ in that room, though…

I look at Francie and give her a Frenchie. She giggles and says, “Well, it seems you’re adjusting to that corset…”

I giggle back and say, “Well, I wouldn’t go THAT far—do you like it?”

Francie says, “Like it? Are you kidding? It’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen in all my life!”

And before I know what is happening, we are upstairs in her room… My thong is on the floor…and I am bent from the waist over her bed. My stockings are still clipped into my garters and I am still in my heels… My dress is over by my thong.

Francie says, “I promised not to do this until you were sixteen—but, I think your hormones have overtaken your age. I know *I* can’t wait any more than you right now seeing you like this…”

I look over my shoulder as she straps on a dildo.

She says, “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I have a shrunken and useless REAL one of these under my fake vagina…and I’m strapping on a FAKE one…”

She kisses and caresses me…plays with my bared nipples…lubes the dildo…and presses.

It is the most painful thing I have ever felt as she (gently) pushes into me. Soon after she is completely up against my ass, the dildo completely in me, I am rocking with her and moaning. It doesn’t take long and I feel a mini-super nova start radiating inside me…and spreading…and spreading…and getting stronger…and stronger…and spreading…and going on…and on…and spreading…

I barely hear her heavy breathing and moaning behind me, but somehow realize she is having an orgasm at the same time I am.

When I finally come down from that wonderful high, I collapse on the bed and she carefully pulls out. My ass hurts badly, but it is SO worth it!

Finally, I roll over and say, “That was SO beautiful! But, how did you…?”

She smiles and says, “My prosthetic is ‘special’ remember? It can simulate things—or maybe ‘stimulate’ is the better word?” She giggles and I smile—happily spent.

I ask, “Where did you get…?”

She puts a finger to her lips and whispers, “Let’s hope they don’t miss it!”

o~O~o

Francie gets the dildo back into THE room without being noticed early the next morning. As far as we know, without it being missed.

I can’t be sure, though. Momma and Mummy both give us these ‘looks’ throughout the day. Of course, I have a bit more sway to my walk because of my REALLY sore ass… That could be a give-away. Whatever the case, neither one of them say anything.

Misty makes a decent breakfast. I can’t help but notice that her waist is pulled in significantly. It is pretty clear to me that she has the corset on—I bet if she took off her pants, that there would be gartered stockings there for all to see.

I sit there, in reverie of last night. I wish Francie and I could just go back upstairs. That lust only gets stronger when Momma and Mummy DO go upstairs after they finish eating.

Francie and I had come down in our bikinis and just go to the pool. Misty has put out towels by the loungers. There is also a bottle of lotion. Summer is coming to an end, but the sun is really nice today, so I slather lotion all over Francie and she on me.

I notice as I put the lotion in my hands that it sort of tingles. As Francie rubs it into me, the tingling spreads all over my body. It doesn’t feel bad—sort of good, actually. I ask Francie, “What is that lotion? Is it making you tingle, too?”

She nods and says, “It sort of feels good…” She looks at the bottle and says, “It’s some sort of herbal stuff… It says to repeat often…”

We both shrug and lay back on the loungers with a book. The tingling wears off after a bit…and we rub more lotion into each other. We repeat the cycle fairly often. The tingling lessons with each application—and lasts a shorter period each time.

After several hours, Misty comes out and asks, “Are the Misses ready for lunch?”

We both nod and enjoy the sandwiches and chips. Momma and Mummy are nowhere in sight. When we are done, Misty places a bowl of mints on the table and Francie and I both take one. I place it in my mouth and let it dissolve on my tongue. It tastes wonderful—and I get a tingly feeling all over my body, again.

I notice a happy look on Francie’s face, too, as we both reach and take a second mint. It doesn’t take long and the mints are gone and it is time for Francie to get ready to go.

I hug her hard as she gets ready to go out the door and to her car. I notice a slight tremble in my hand and think that I really am going to miss her—I am already trembling because of it. I wave as she drives off and go up to my room.

I look at my vanity and see a little box laid out on it. I go over and open the card on top. I read, Don’t tell your Moms. This is our little secret—so don’t let’s even talk about it. I love you! F”

I open the box and a mist wafts up to my face. I breathe it in—and feel all tingly. I want to keep that feeling going…I want more…

I look in the box and am surprised to see an e-cig device and several cartridges with a clear liquid in them. Curious, I take the device out of the box. It is loaded with a cartridge. I notice the on-off switch and switch it to ‘on’.

I don’t know why, but I take a puff off of the device—it just seems the right thing to do even though I HATE anything to do with smoking. I involuntarily inhale deeply as my need for THAT feeling takes over… I continue greedily puffing until the cartridge is empty.

I find myself wondering why Francie would do this…get me hooked on some unknown substance… All I know is that I am not going to say anything—if nothing else, I can only hope she will give me more cartridges if I keep quiet…until I can figure out what this is all about.

I don’t see Misty disposing of the empty lotion bottle and the empty ‘mint’ bowl with a smile on her face.

Author's Note:

Hi All, I know the last chapter wasn't everyone's cup of tea--I needed to clean up some things with Misty and these last two chapters were the best way I could think to do it... Also, I know that the sex in the last chapter wasn't to everyone's taste. To be honest, it isn't mine, either. I won't be doing anymore in this series (at least not that explicit--teens in love, will be teens in love, after all... :) ).

Also, I am once again going on travel this weekend and next week. I will post another chapter if I can--otherwise, I will as soon as I can after I return.

Happy reading!

HUGS!

I wake up the next morning and something is…off… I can’t put my finger on it until I realize that I REALLY want to use that infernal e-cig and get my fix of whatever is in those vials. I try and ignore it, but find I can’t… I finally give in, load the device, and turn it on.

After emptying the vial, I feel much better and get ready for school. As I finish up, I try and decide what to do…there isn’t any way I can take the e-cig with me—they are banned at school (too many kids using them with marijuana extract in the vials). Besides, legally, I am too young to be using it, anyway.

I decide I am just going to have to make it through the day—somehow—and go down for breakfast.

I don’t notice Misty smirking behind my back as she fixes my breakfast. On my way out, she hands me a bag of the mints from yesterday. She says, “Here, Miss. You seemed to really enjoy these yesterday—there were a few left and I thought you may want them?”

I smile and absent-mindedly put them in my purse as I thank her. Then I hurry out to get in the car—Mummy is waiting. Momma is on a short overnight business trip and left really early this morning.

I make it until about mid-morning and feel myself getting fidgety. I reach into my purse between classes and take out one of the mints, thinking it might help. I stick it in my mouth, and to my surprise it does ease the craving I am having. It doesn’t make it go away, but it certainly helps.

At lunch break, I quickly eat a salad and decide to go outside and walk to get my mind off of the increasing cravings. I have a free period after lunch anyway and I think the fresh air will help. As I am walking around the building (something that IS allowed with permission), I run into Grace Harper, a senior. She is stealthily smoking a cigarette and I catch a whiff of the smoke as I am passing by.

I stop in my tracks—just that whiff has me salivating. I go over to her and breathe in deeply—the craving gets stronger. She gives me an odd, then understanding look and hands me a cigarette. I hesitate, but only for an instant. I suddenly know what I am addicted to, now. The good news is it is nothing illegal; the bad news is, it seems I am a smoker, now.

She lights the cigarette with her lighter and I take a deep breath and choke—then I take another…

As I finish the cigarette and thank Grace, I try and figure out why Francie would want me to smoke… She has always said she hates it as much as I do… I shake my head and go in to do some homework.

The rest of the day crawls by. Luckily, I have no cheer practice OR ballet today and as soon as I get home, I grab the e-cig device and go outside and out back to a secluded area not far from the guest house. I have just turned the device on and taken the first deep inhale when Misty scares the daylights out of me.

She comes up behind me and says, “Good day, Miss. May I ask what you are doing?”

I blush and say, “Well, what does it LOOK like, Misty?”

She remains calm and says, “It looks like Miss is smoking… When did Miss start that?”

I shake my head and say, “I just did, I guess…”

Misty asks, “Where is Miss getting her supplies, since she is too young…?”

I shrug. I have no idea how I am supposed to support this… It was the one thing that was in favor of me going to straight to Moms with this problem. I say, “I have no idea, to be honest.”

Misty nods and says, “I can get the supplies for Miss—and keep it quiet—for a price…”

I look at her and she seems serious. I ask, “What price?”

She says, “Well, I would have to charge an overhead—say 50% above the actual cost?”

I take a deep breath of the vapor and say as the craving is both satisfied and intensified at the same time, “Well, that seems OK, I guess. When can you get me some new supplies…?”

She says, “Meet me here at nine tonight—bring cash.” And she turns and leaves as quickly as she came.

I finish the cartridge and shake my head. I have no idea what Francie is up to getting me hooked, but MISTY of all people is the one to help me out in this? The world really IS a strange place.

I go to my room and finish my homework, then slip back out a little before nine with a fairly large sum of cash. Misty meets me at the designated spot at precisely nine o’clock. She hands me a bag and I open it. There are several boxes of the vials and also a carton of regular cigarettes.

She says, “I’m aware that you can’t take the device to school—you will be less likely to get caught with the cigarettes. That will be $325.00”

I barely have enough cash to cover the cost, but this should keep me covered for quite some time. I take the bag and hurry back towards my room to hide my stash…

I am about to go up the stairs when Mummy says, “Paige, can you come talk to me a minute, please?”

I am torn—I start to ask her to let me go up, first; but something in her tone lets me know that may not be a good idea. I go into the family room adjacent the stairs where she is waiting.

I say, “Yes, Mummy? I was just getting ready to go get ready for bed…”

She says, “Well, this is important. I got a call from Ronnie Ferguson a bit ago with some disturbing news. It seems you were captured on a video feed SMOKING? Would you care to explain?”

I feel my face turn white. I don’t want to say it was Francie…but I don’t know what else to do… If I have learned nothing from this WHOLE affair, I have learned it is best to be open about what is going on—at least when asked…

I say, “Well, I can’t really explain it… It seems that Francie somehow got me hooked. She left me an e-cig device and a note not to say anything and that we could talk about it later…”

Mummy shakes her head and says, “You’re going to have to come up with something better than she ‘somehow got me hooked’, Paige. It doesn’t work that way. You have to actually consume the nicotine to get hooked.”

I look at her seriously and say, “Angi, have you EVER known me to KNOWINGLY lie? I’m telling you the truth. I HATE smoking and I don’t WANT this!”

She sighs and says, “Well, let’s call Francie, shall we?”

She doesn’t give me a chance to say anything before she has her phone out and is calling Francie. She puts it on speaker. I hear the voice that I love—but have really conflicted feelings about at the moment, ”Hello, Angi?”

Angi says, “Hi, Francie. We have a problem…”

Over the next ten minutes, we discuss the problem. It seems that Francie had a similar note from ME in her car—along with an e-cig device of her own. She was as unsuccessful as I was at resisting the strong craving.

Angi looks at me with an extremely puzzled look on her face. She says, “OK, go through EXACTLY what you two did that day while Dawn and I were…preoccupied…”

Francie and I take turns telling her about the day—mostly just laying out by the pool and reading.

Francie says, “The only thing I can think of that was different was that herbal sun lotion…”

Angi asks, “Herbal? Where did you get it?”

I shrug my shoulders and say, “It was just out there… I looked today when I got home; I thought about laying out by the pool, but it wasn’t there—just the normal stuff…”

Francie says, “There WERE those strange mints that Misty gave us, too. I felt all tingly when I sucked on them.”

I say, “Me too. And Misty gave me the rest of them to take to school. They actually HELPED with the cravings—a little, anyways.”

Angi looks pensive and says, “I see. Do you have any of those ‘mints’ left?”

I shake my head and say, “No…there weren’t that many. That is how I got into the smoking thing at school—it was purely by chance. But at that moment, I at least knew WHAT I was hooked on. I was planning on a SERIOUS discussion with Francie as soon as I could.”

Angi says, “This is all very interesting. So, you weren’t planning on telling me—or your Momma? How were you planning on supporting this habit? It would be much easier for Francie to get ‘supplies’ in her circumstance—but you, Paige?”

I sigh and say, “Well, I was contemplating what to do when I happened to run into Misty. She was pretty helpful in obtaining supplies.”

Angi looks at me and says, “Interesting. How so?”

I tell her about Misty appearing out back and the ‘deal’; then I show her the supplies. She looks at them and shakes her head. She says, “No wonder you’re having bad cravings—these are all REALLY strong dosages of nicotine.”

She sighs and says, “Francie, there isn’t much I can do until you come home. Can you come this weekend? I suggest getting some nicotine lozenges—that is likely what those ‘mints’ were. That will help—try to resist using the e-cig or real cigarettes and go as long as you absolutely can between lozenges. Paige, you are coming with me to my office immediately…”

She takes me straight to her car and drives to her office building. I talk to Francie a bit longer on the ride and hang up just as we get there.

We go straight to her office and she rummages in a medicine cabinet. She draws up a large dose of a pale green solution in a syringe and says, “OK, Paige, bend over. I’m sorry—this will hurt more than just a little sting…”

She jabs me in the butt and pushes the stuff into the muscle. It DOES hurt a lot, but I don’t say anything. She says, “This will stop the nicotine addiction—it is a new drug. Fortunately, you didn’t have time to really build up a psychological addiction, so this should work well. Just make sure that you don’t smoke or use ANY nicotine products—if you do, your addiction will near immediately return and be much harder to treat next time.”

I nod and say, “Don’t worry about that… Although, I didn’t mean to THIS time…”

We drive home and I get ready to go upstairs. I rub my butt and Mummy says, “It will be sore a couple of days. Let me know if you have any signs of cravings tonight. If you make it through tomorrow morning, you should be in the clear. Now, I have to call your Momma and we have to discuss what to do with Misty…”

o~O~o

I wake up the next morning and, aside from a really sore butt, there seems to be no lingering consequence of my late nicotine addiction. I smile—I REALLY hate the idea of being addicted to something I can’t control.

I go downstairs and notice that Misty is not present. I make my own breakfast, which is no big deal to me—I actually prefer it. Especially now that I don’t trust Misty AT ALL…not that I really ever did after what she had done to me before.

Mummy comes in a few minutes after I am done. She comes from the direction of the guest house and gives no indication of what she was doing. She simply says, “Good morning, Love. How are you feeling?”

I swallow my last bite of English muffin and take a sip of coffee to wash it down. I say, “Fine. My butt is sore but otherwise…nothing! Thank you. I wish I had just talked to you about it to begin with—but I wanted to talk to Francie first.”

She nods and says, “I know, Hon. You know you can ALWAYS come to me, but I get why you approached it the way you did. I’m not sure I would have done it any differently, myself.”

I ask, “What about Misty—I don’t want her around me. PERIOD. I especially don’t want her fixing me meals or buying anything I will be using.”

Mummy nods and says, “Don’t worry, Love. You won’t have to be subjected to her—at least until we can be COMPLETELY sure she has been rehabilitated.”

She drops me off at school and I receive a summons to go to Miss Ferguson’s office. I sigh, wondering what consequences I will face for smoking on school property. I enter the office and immediately notice that Mrs. DICK-enson is not there—there is a young lady in her place.

I smile nervously and say, “Hi. I’m Paige Fitzsimmons. Miss Ferguson requested my presence.”

She smiles at me and says, “Go on in, Hon, she is waiting—I am Ginger Jones, by the way. I’m a temp and will be here a few weeks…”

I nod and go into Ronnie’s office. She smiles and says, “Sit down, Paige.”

I gingerly sit and Ronnie gives me a serious look. She says, “I guess we dodged a serious bullet. I was really disappointed when I was reviewing surveillance camera footage and saw you out there with Grace Harper. I’ve known about her for a while…that’s another subject, though. Anyway, Angi has explained to me that this was another stealth attack on you and that it’s taken care of?”

I nod and say, “Yes, Ma’am. I no longer am addicted to that…crap…”

She smiles and says, “Good! By the way, I’m sure you noticed Miss Jones out front. She is going be there while Mrs. Dickenson takes some needed ‘time off’.” She smiles at the look of understanding on my face—she had been ‘suspended’… She says, “I can’t have my administration not taking student safety seriously. She has some dedicated time to think about her priorities. OK, you better get off to class—Ginger can give you a pass.”

I thank her and take the pass from Ginger. As I walk to class, I sigh. Another disaster averted—I can’t help but wonder when my luck is going to run out, though. So far, there have been serious consequences to all that has happened, but nothing I can’t live with. I shudder and hope that doesn’t change…

o~O~o

When I get home after cheer practice and ballet, a lot of the soreness in my butt has been worked out. I am tired, but happy to see Momma has made it back from her trip.

She hugs me and hands me an envelope. I open it curious as to what it may be. There is a card inside with an ‘apology’ from Misty and $500.00.”

I give Momma a look that conveys my confusion. She smiles and says, “Misty bought back the supplies that she sold you under the same deal conditions that she had with you. It will take quite some time for her to pay ME back for the advance I had to give her to pay you and cover the costs she accrued getting the things for her subterfuge to begin with.”

I sigh and Momma continues, “Her scheme was to have you addicted and to milk you for money getting the ‘supplies’ for you. No doubt, she would have kept increasing the cost as your addiction deepened to include the psychological need for the nicotine fix.”

I feel my face burn red with anger.

Momma says, “Don’t worry, Love. Misty will not be doing anything else in the house. She will continue to do things for me related to work. Of course, that means she is earning even LESS now. Her debt to me continues to grow. And now it is only going to grow faster.”

She doesn’t elaborate and I don’t ask—I want NOTHING to do with that bitch… I don’t care what happens to her anymore, to be honest.

I go upstairs to change and help make dinner. I happen to look out the window and see Misty in front of the guest cottage GREEDILY sucking on an e-cig device. I know that Allen never smoked—he hated it as much as, if not MORE than, I do. Understanding dawns on me as to what Momma meant by her debt growing…if MISTY is now addicted, SHE will have to pay for the supplies—probably under a similar deal to what *I* had agreed to with HER.

I smile—this time I LIKE the punishment!

I grin the whole time we are making supper—and the three of us have a GREAT time doing it. We never needed Misty in the kitchen anyways! I am glad she is banned from the house unless specifically working on work-related projects—and that will be under Momma’s strict supervision.

Author's Note:

As I mentioned, I am on travel, so this is a bit of a shorter chapter. If I get any more posted this week, they will likely all be shorter--I will get back to more normal posting this coming weekend/next week (hopefully).

Happy Reading!

HUGS!

o~O~o

Life at school is settling into somewhat of a routine. The ‘reds’ are being quiet—I wouldn’t go as far as to say they are tolerant, but I think they know enough to lay low. That doesn’t mean that I trust the ‘truce’.

I am really melding with the cheer team and we are becoming a cohesive unit that could actually be a threat in the upcoming state championship if we decide to go that far. No team has actually attempted to go to State in over fifteen years at this school—I am pushing for us to. I think we can do it! And we are practicing like crazy.

I am walking out to the newly ‘de-gophered’ field for practice and run into Grace Harper out by the bleachers. She is just lighting up a cigarette. She looks at me and smiles. She says, “Paige, right? You want one?”

I shake my head and say, “No thanks. I…am trying to quit. I think I may have escaped the addiction.”

Grace gets a sad look on her face and says, “Yeah… Good luck. I mean it! I’ve tried several times. I even made it a whole day once. Ever since my good-for-nothing old boyfriend got me hooked last year…”

I look at her and ask, “You really want to quit?”

She nods and says, “More than anything. There are others around here that would love to, too. Do you really think you’ll make it?”

I nod and say, “Yes, but I had a LOT of help.”

She sighs and takes a deep inhale of smoke, then says as she exhales, “I wish I had that kind of help. You better run, though, or you’ll be late for practice.”

I say, “Dang! You’re right. See you later!”

I hurry off and make it just in time for warm-ups. The whole time we are practicing, I think of Grace, though. Finally, after a grueling practice, I go out to meet Mummy who is waiting for me in her car—in the passenger’s seat.

I grin and get behind the wheel. “Hi, Mummy! Thanks for letting me drive,” I greet her.

She smiles and says, “Let’s get home. I think I need a drink—it’s been a LONG day!”

I mock salute her and say, “Whatever Milady wishes!” I smoothly take off—I am getting a lot better at driving. When we get out onto the main road, it is fairly light traffic.

I keep both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road, but I ask Mummy a question, “There is something that is bothering me and I need to ask you about it, OK?”

She looks over at me and asks in a concerned voice, “Are you having trouble at school again?”

I shake my head and say, “Do you remember Ronnie talking about the senior that she saw smoking with me on the surveillance footage, Grace Harper?”

Angi nods and says, “Yes. What about her?”

I say, “I ran into her before practice and she was just lighting a cigarette. She offered me one—I declined, don’t worry! But the thing is that SHE doesn’t want to smoke, either. Her old boyfriend got her hooked. She said there are others at school that want to quit, too. Isn’t there some way to help them like you helped me?”

Mummy is quiet for a minute and then thoughtfully says, “Well, yes. I suppose. The school would have to be onboard—and the parents, too, if they are minors. I could donate the medication and the time… Let me talk to Ronnie. I think it’s a WONDERFUL idea, Paige!”

o~O~o

The next day, school is going along, well, like school, when I am called to Ronnie’s office after lunch. To my surprise Mummy is in the office with her—along with the school nurse.

Ronnie asks me to sit down and says, “Angi tells me that this is your idea…this smoking antidote campaign?”

I look at Mummy, then back at Ronnie and shrug. I tell her what happened yesterday and finish with, “I know how it feels to be caught in that hopeless lure of nicotine. For the barest of moments yesterday, I actually started to tell Grace, ‘Yes’. If there is a way to help those that WANT to be helped, then why not?”

Ronnie and the school nurse both nod. Ronnie says, “That is wonderful, Paige! Will you be the spokesperson? You’ve been through it.”

I look at them stunned and say, “Ummm…I don’t think I would be the best person under my certain circumstances… I mean…you know… But, I DO have an idea…”

Fifteen minutes later, I am in an empty classroom with Grace Harper. We are alone and she is shouting at me, “You TOLD them? WHY?”

I look at her calmly and say, “Grace! Listen to me—they already KNEW. Miss Ferguson has LOTS of surveillance footage with you smoking on it—along with me that one time. She just didn’t really know how to approach it, since you are under foster care… She doesn’t want to get you in trouble with the system—I promise. But, Angi can help you the same as she helped me…”

Grace looks at me with a mixture of hope and anger. She says, “You should have talked to me before you talked to them.”

I say, “You’re right—that WOULD have been better. But, think about it. I had to get everyone to agree, first. They wanted ME to be the face of this… You know why I can’t be. But YOU could!”

She pales and says, “Y…y…you want ME to…”

I say, “Yes, to tell how you were lured into the addiction and wanted out…and that it worked…and that there are NO strings attached…”

She looks at me, still not convinced, and asks, “How do I know it WILL work?”

I say, “There is only one way to find out!”

As we walk into the nurse’s office a few minutes later, Grace says, “I’m still not sure how I let you talk me into this!”

Mummy looks up and says with bright smile, “Hi, you must be Grace. Paige can be very convincing. You may call me Angi and I understand that this is something that you WANT, right Grace?”

Grace looks a little haunted and says, “Oh, yes Ma’am! I have really rued the day I hooked up with that loser and he talked me into it… But, I’m not sure about…” Her sentence trails off.

Mummy smiles and says, “It will be OK, Grace. I promise. I just need to get approval from child services. Then, when it’s all over and you’re no longer are addicted, all you have to do is let students know that it DOES work. The form that they would have to get signed by their parents would be for a voluntary new treatment trial that is 100% safe… The parents won’t even really have to know it is for smoking if they don’t want them to…”

Grace nods and the nurse comes in with a paper that she hands Mummy. Mummy smiles and says, “Congratulations, Grace! You’ve been approved. Come over here and let me give you a shot. Paige will vouch that it will hurt—for a couple of days—but that it will certainly help. The difference between you and Paige is that YOU have been addicted for a lot longer and will certainly have some psychological addiction to combat, as well. This can’t help with that…”

She takes Grace behind a curtain and I hear her say, “The fact that you WANT to quit will help you over that hurdle—but you will HAVE to not give in to any psychological desires. Trust me, the physical addiction will be over. BUT, if you cave—it will be MUCH harder to treat.”

I hear a gasp and a low moan—maybe even a bit of crying.

Mummy comes out and looks at me. I nod and go behind the curtain. Grace is leaning over an exam table, rubbing her butt, and quietly crying.

I go over and give her a gentle hug from behind and say, “I know it hurts, Grace. You probably just want a cigarette to help you through it, right?”

She nods.

I say, “Fight it! The shot is not immediate, but by tomorrow, you won’t have the physical need anymore. You said you made it a whole day once—so you KNOW you can do it!”

She nods and turns around and hugs me as she says, “Thank you so much, Paige! No one has ever done ANYTHING like this for me!”

I hug her for a while longer and whisper in her ear, “I have to go start hanging posters… Take it easy for a bit. Tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of your life that is nicotine-free. That’s a GOOD thing, right?”

She nods and her tears fall on my shoulder, leaving it wet. I smile at her and leave the nurse’s office to recruit some help in hanging posters that Mummy had somehow magically gotten done before she came. Little did I know that this is just the FIRST direct involvement of EITHER of my Moms here at school…

o~O~o

I come into school the next morning and am nearly bowled over by Grace. She is like TOTALLY excited and nearly screams in my ear, “IT WORKED! OMG! IT WORKED! I can’t remember the last time that I haven’t had a craving… Sure, I know if I get stressed, I will WANT one—but I CAN handle that! I won’t NEED it! I’ve already been talking to people. I know of at least ten others that want the shot!”

I smile and hug her back. I say, “That’s GREAT, Grace! See? I KNEW you were the right one to head this!”

She giggles and says, “I’m still mad that you ratted me out, though!” She winks to let me know that she is not serious and scurries off—a woman on a mission to stamp out nicotine addiction in our school…

Penny witnesses the whole scene and comes over to me and says, “You did a REALLY good thing there, Paige. You and your Mummy are doing a lot to cross the red-green line with this—that addiction doesn’t discriminate.”

I nod and say, “Well, that wasn’t my intent, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I just hope that there aren’t idiots out there that won’t take advantage of the opportunity BECAUSE it’s run by someone in the green camp…”

And I stop mid-sentence stunning myself. I say, “Of course…green…camp… That COULD work… But…no… Maybe…?”

Penny looks at me like I’ve grown horns, or something, and says, “Earth to Paige! Come IN, Paige!”

I look at her, deep in though and grunt, “Huh? Oh…I just had a thought. I don’t know if it COULD work—well, I mean in a PUBLIC school… Tell Brenda to let Mrs. Gunderson (my first period English teacher) know that I have to go see Miss Ferguson…”

And I run off before Penny can get another word out.

I go straight to Ronnie’s office and approach Miss Jones, “Good morning Ms. Jones, may I see Ms. Ferguson for a few minutes. I know I should be in class, but this is important.”

She looks at me and smiles, “Hi, Paige. Look, I’m a temp around here, so just call me Ginger, OK? It makes me feel all creepy to be called ‘Miss Jones’ by kids that I am barely older than. Anyway, I think Miss Ferguson is free. Hang on; let me check.”

A few minutes later, I am in Ronnie’s office. She looks at me concerned and asks, “Paige? Is everything OK? What’s going on?”

I smile and say, “Yes, sorry, Miss Ferguson. Everything is fine…I just had another idea and I need to discuss it with you before I lose it—or talk to anyone else…”

She sits down and says, “OK. Good. You had me worried, young lady! Let me get us a cup of coffee then you have fifteen minutes. You SHOULD be in class!”

Ninety minutes and four cups of coffee later, Ronnie escorts me out and says to Ginger, “Ginger, please give Miss Fitzsimmons a pass. Also, I need the last two hours of the day blocked off. Please call both of Paige’s Moms and see if they can meet us here at one thirty?”

Ginger looks at me—wonderment clear in her eyes, but she says, “Yes, Miss Ferguson. I assume, then, that Paige is supposed to also be in that meeting?”
Ronnie nods and says, “Very perceptive, Ginger. Very perceptive! By the way, Mrs. Dickenson is not coming back…we need to talk. Give me a few minutes and then come into my office. Paige, I will see you at one thirty. Please do not speak about ANY of this to ANYONE until then, OK?”

I nod and hurry off to class…

I get all kinds of strange looks and lots of questions when I show up for class. Of course, I can’t say anything and that makes everyone just push harder for answers. When I leave a little before one thirty, the rumor mill REALLY starts churning, then. I just wave to the grumbling and walk quickly to Ronnie’s office.

Ginger waves me straight in with a BIG smile on her face. As I pass by, she whispers, “I’m no longer a temp!”

I smile back at her and whisper, “WOW! Congrats, Ginger! Err…maybe that doesn’t apply anymore?”

She giggles and says, “To YOU, it does! Go knock ‘em dead!”

I walk into Ronnie’s office and both Moms are there with hugely curious looks on their faces.

Ronnie smiles brightly and says, “Ladies, I believe you know Paige?” She giggles and Momma comes over and hugs me before asking, “Paige? Is everything all right?”

Before I can answer, Ronnie speaks up and says, “Like I said earlier, everything is fine. More than fine actually—IF we can find a way to make Paige’s plan work…”

I look at the three other women in the room. Of them, only Ronnie already knows the basics of my idea. I don’t have the details, but that is what my two Moms are for…working those out!

I say, “Momma, Mummy, I had an idea when I was talking to Grace today. By the way, she is doing GREAT! Anyway, Penny brought up the fact that this anti-nicotine campaign could be good because the addiction does not discriminate and this effort would cross red-green lines. Then I said something along the lines that I hoped there wouldn’t be idiots that would not take advantage of the program because it was spearheaded by the green camp…”

I grin and pause to see if it will click.

I get blank stares. I sigh and say, “I have NO idea whether this could work—OR how it could work in a public school, IF at all. But, think about it. We basically have TWO camps now… red and green. Thinking of that a little differently, we basically have ONE camp with two…”

Mummy chimes in excitedly, “HOUSES! Paige, that is BRILLIANT!”

Momma still looks lost.

I say, “It isn’t a lot different than Mummy’s LGBT camp with colored houses. If we get all the students to take the test that puts them on the LGBT spectrum and put them into the appropriate houses…”

Momma says, “Then they would see that there IS a spectrum that THEY are on and it’s not all black and white!”

I nod excitedly.

Ronnie says, “There is a lot that would have to happen with the school board to make the ‘house’ part viable. I can make the test happen, although, Angi, it would be best if it weren’t immediately clear that it is a psych profile…or, at least not one to put them on THAT spectrum. Something that is really ‘cheat-proof’…that they can’t knowingly influence.”

Mummy says, “I have a new version that I think will fit that bill perfectly. Assuming we can categorize them into appropriate ‘houses’, how DO we operationalize those?”

Ronnie smiles and says, “Well, along with Mrs. Dickenson leaving, there has also been…movement…in the school board. She had influential connections that were smoked out when her true self was revealed. It is quite shocking, actually, that we had such bigots on our board. There are more than a couple of positions now open… The superintendent has the right to name people to the board until the next election… I have convinced her to name Dawn as the next chairperson…”

We all exclaim, “What?”

Ronnie continues on, undeterred, “With Dawn at the helm…and Angi on the board, as well, plus the fact that a couple of the other members really owe me, I think we can make it happen.”

Mummy says, “I’m on the board, too? But…”

Ronnie says, “Not only on the board, but now an attaché to the school. Your new position is to implement this new system. We only have a few months until the next elections, so we HAVE to make this work by then, or we can ALL go somewhere else. There is NO doubt that there will be parental opposition—we have to convince them that this is a GOOD thing. The superintendent is in support—but won’t fall on her sword for this. I hope you will both say ‘yes’.”

Momma nods her head and says, “Of course, but… This all sounds great—in theory. I don’t see how we can make this happen in my lifetime—let alone before the next election cycle in…,” she looks at a calendar, “…two and a half months.”

Mummy looks really caught up in thought and says, “I know what you’re saying, Dawn, but I think we need to give it a try. I mean the model is proven—we just have to apply it here at the school. The key will be to turn up the heat slowly enough that the frogs don’t realize it is boiling—until it’s too late.”

I roll my eyes—that metaphor is used ENTIRELY too much. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t fit, though. I say, “If the test is mandatory…is there a way to give some sort of extra credit—something SO good that no one will want to turn it down—for ‘joining’ their house?”

Mummy nods and says, “Yes, and we wouldn’t FORCE them to stay in a particular house—only assign them there in the beginning. After a bit, they could move houses if they really don’t fit—although, there would be certain criteria that had to be met to get into certain houses. For example, any girl or boy could be in green, which is the ‘neutral zone’, if you will. Any girl could be in pink or any boy could be in blue. For a boy to get into pink would require extra justification, such as the appropriate score on the profile…”

Ronnie looks lost in thought and says, “O…K… This could work, I think. I will have to come up with the extra credit that will be acceptable to the faculty, though… Angi…,” she winks, “…or, is that ‘Mummy’? Can you have the profile test ready to give next week? We will likely have to do it several sessions to get everyone.”

I giggle at the ‘Mummy’ comment and she playfully sticks her tongue out at me. She looks back at Ronnie and says, “Yes, that’s not a problem.”

Ronnie looks at Momma and asks, “I know I drug you into this and you probably need another board to chair like a hole in the head, but is this really OK with you?”

Momma nods and says, “Let’s get to work, Ladies!”

o~O~o

To their credit, Moms take this huge bull by the horns and are very busy over the rest of the week. It does leave me feeling a little ‘neglected’, but I don’t REALLY mind at all.

Momma quickly takes charge of the school board and makes some needed changes there. Overall, the board likes how she starts running things.

Mummy gets everything prepped for the profile exams—both administering and evaluation, including categorization.

I work extra hard on my cheer and ballet routines with them all busy anyway.

On Friday evening, Mummy comes to me and asks, “Paige, will you do me a favor? You have taken the original profile exam three times and you know it inside out. Will you take this new one, so I can compare your results to your old ones and evaluate any differences? Try your best to influence the outcome—say, pretend that you want it CLEARLY to define you as a heterosexual male?”

I nod and say, “Sure, no problem!”

I sit down at her computer and try to guess the right answers to make me look like a ‘heterosexual male’. The results that it automatically spits out are that I am ‘in the middle’ of male and female. I retake it at Mummy’s request and try to be a heterosexual girl and come out much more on the female side, but the results are still basically ‘me’. I try a couple of different other scenarios until Mummy is satisfied.

She says, “Thank you, Paige. Your results compare well with others I have tried this on. You are able to skew the results, but not enough that you would be miscategorized very often.”

I am closing up the computer when the door opens and Francie walks in. I rush over and give her a big hug and really don’t like the way she looks. She has a strained look on her face and is viciously sucking on something.

Mummy takes her straight to her room and gives her ‘the shot’—then Francie and I go to bed early…

o~O~o

The next morning, Francie is looking and feeling much better (except for her butt, of course) and I fill her in on what is happening at school. She is excited about the prospects and decides to take me to the mall for a day of shopping for a change of scenery.

Two hours later, we are walking through the mall, our arms already filling up with bags, when I see Mrs. DICK-enson coming towards us in a small group of sour-looking women. I tug at Francie’s arm to duck into the nearest store, but it is too late. We have been spotted.

Mrs. DICK-enson comes up to us and says, “Well, if it isn’t the little PERVERT from school—and its CO-PERVERT?” Her tone is clearly snide and her voice carries. A lot of people look around to see what is going on, but quickly move on so as not to get involved.

I respond with a bravado that I don’t really feel, “Just leave us alone, Mrs. DICK-enson. We’re just here to enjoy the shopping—the same as you.”

She comes back, her voice dripping in contempt, “But, you see, *I* can’t enjoy the shopping—and neither can these other ladies—because you got me fired and them removed from the board. I think you need to PAY for that!”

I look at them, wondering what they think they can do to Francie and I in a public mall. Before Francie or I either one can react, the ladies grab us and start moving us towards the security office.

When we get there, Mrs. DICK-enson smartly raps on the door and says to the female security officer that answers, “We caught these two sneaking out of Jade’s without paying for the stuff they took. If you search their bags, you’ll see what I mean!”

The security woman looks at us and asks, “Is that true, young ladies? Did you shoplift?”

Both Francie and I shake our heads and say, “No, Ma’am,” at the same time.

The woman ‘invites’ us all into the office and puts the DICK-enson band of women into a room and asks them to wait until she can interview them about what happened. She then escorts us into a separate room and looks through our bags.

I gasp when she pulls a semi-expensive bracelet from Jade’s Jewelry Store (it still has the price tag on it) out of my VS bag. I say, “I don’t know where that came from! You have to believe me! We weren’t even IN Jade’s today!”

The security woman asks, “Is that really true? It is really EASY for me to verify that.”

Francie says, “Please do! It IS the truth! Those women have a grudge against Paige here because they got fired for inappropriate behavior towards her!”

The security woman makes a quick phone call, “Madge, this is Joyce. Do you remember two young girls in your shop today? One is about 17, reddish-blonde hair. The other about 15, blonde hair? Both really cute? … I see… OK. Do you mind if I pull your video feed? Thanks, Hon!”

The woman doesn’t say anything and goes to a monitor where she logs in and clicks through several screens. Suddenly, Jade’s is visible in several split screen views. The woman quickly goes through the last couple of hours of video feed and it is clearly visible where Mrs. DICK-enson, HERSELF, takes the bracelet and places it in her purse.

The woman, Joyce, mutters, “I keep TELLING Madge to put security tags on ALL of her stuff…” She looks over at us and says, “You’re free to go, girls. Sorry to bother you—but, you understand that I had to investigate.”

Francie nods and says, “Sure we do. Thank you for giving us the benefit of the doubt until you knew for sure. What will happen to…them…?”

Joyce says, “That’ll be up to the police and the judge—they’re already on their way!”

I shake my head and say, “She got in trouble for watching a group of students get ready to beat me up on live surveillance cameras without stopping them. You’d think SHE of all people would know the power of video cameras…”

o~O~o

Another shorter chapter—but it gets you of the cliff while I’m out (and hopefully feeling better)!

HUGS!

Francie and I are about to leave when the police show up. They ask us to stay behind for a few minutes and make a statement. When we are done, the police are ready to charge the women, not only with theft, but also aggravated assault for forcing us to come here by dragging us, and potentially kidnapping. Once they find out about the ‘history’ we have and what it is all about, they are sure the DA will pursue a hate crime charge. The state has one of the toughest in the country.

Officer Wright, a pretty blonde woman in her thirties also suggests, “You may want to consult a lawyer. I think you have a good chance to get them on slander and maybe a few more things…”

Francie and I thank her and I call Momma to see if she can get in touch with Sheila. She is, of course, mortified at what happened, but is glad that we are OK. After a few more minutes of assuring her, I hang up and Francie and I finish our shopping, then have lunch before we go back home.

When we get back, Sheila is at the house and we have to recount the whole thing again to her. Sheila nods and says, “I have already called and talked to Officer Wright. She said that this whole thing cracked a case wide open—it seems there have been a number of thefts across the area; all at jewelry stores. The only things that have been stolen are red bracelets…”

I look at her stunned and ask, “And they think Mrs. DICK-enson is the one that was behind these thefts?”

Sheila shrugs and says, “Well, there hasn’t been ANY evidence to date—whoever was doing it was obviously MUCH better at it than SHE was today. But, the police think she is absolutely connected. Based on what they could piece together from the video footage out in the mall, she must have seen you and decided to frame you. She then went into Jade’s and pocketed the bracelet…and, well, you know the rest.”

She takes a sip of iced tea and continues, “She will likely get charged with conspiracy on top of everything else. The hate crime charge alone, though, will bury her.”

Francie says, “Well, I HOPE so! What with Misty doing HER crap, and now this—and it all doesn’t even begin to touch on the other big underlying issue of the bracelets to begin with. What a mess!”

Momma comes over and hugs us both and asks, “Did you find some nice things at the mall? Would you like to show them to me while Sheila finishes up?”

We nod and start up the stairs. I nearly fall back down them, though, when Momma asks, “Oh, and would the two of you go with me tomorrow? I have an appointment at the bridal shop to try on dresses… We’ve set a date!”

Francie and I both let out a shriek!

We both say, at the same time, “Of course,” and start asking a million questions.

Momma patiently answers them and then asks, “Oh, and Paige, will you be my maid of honor? I think Angi may plans of her own for you, Francie…”

I hug her and say, “Of course I will! Now, at least all of this time in this corset will finally pay off!”

I am now pretty much fulltime in a training corset—except when cheering or in ballet. Even then, though, I have an exercise corset that I wear when I can. To be honest, I hardly notice it anymore—just when we tighten it down some more. I am already able to easily tighten it down close to 22 inches. My goal is an eighteen-inch waist—don’t ask me why. I just like the way those old actresses looked…

We show Momma our haul and when Mummy comes home and we have filled her in on the ‘excitement’ for the day, we all go out to celebrate the fact that ‘the date’ has been set. Of course, Mummy does ask Francie to be her maid of honor…

o~O~o

Four weeks later, Mrs. DICK-enson and her band of not-so-merry thieves go on trial. While she never admits to being the ringleader of the ‘red bracelet gang’, she does try and make the trial a venue to spread her venom. It only backfires on her and serves to ensure the hate crime conviction the DA is hoping for.

The judge gives her the maximum sentence allowed for all charges. She says, “I have seldom seen such bigotry and disregard for a fellow human or group of humans. On top of that, you were in a position to both influence and inflict harm on innocent children in a public educational institution meant to both protect and nurture those very children. I sentence you to 45 years in the State Penitentiary. Your co-conspirators all are sentenced to 30 years, each. May God have mercy on your souls.”

I look at Sheila and smile—the civil suit for slander will be later. She says, “Well, she won’t even be eligible for parole for twenty years—and it is highly unlikely she will make it. She is going to be a VERY old lady when she gets out, given that she is currently 43. When we win the civil suit—she will be poor on top of that.”

I watch her and the others be escorted out in handcuffs. I still wonder who actually did the stealing—the police are certain that she is covering for someone. The judge MAY have been a bit more lenient if she had cooperated…

I feel better after the first victory in a series of court cases that will define my life for quite some time to come. We all go out to a nice restaurant to celebrate the victory and then I go home to study for midterms—it is hard to believe that half of my junior year is nearly over…and that it is only three weeks until Christmas.

After I finish my review for the day, I pull out my diary and open it. I take a moment to leaf back through it. I had started it right after camp—mostly to practice writing as a girl. I needed to get into the habit of expressing myself in a more feminine way—and my handwriting used to be atrocious. As I look through the entries over the last several months, it is clear that my handwriting has become a thing of feminine beauty. My vocabulary and expressive style has become overtly feminine, as well.

I smile as I read back through some of the entries—the trials and tribulations of getting the cheer team to accept the challenge of trying out for State in the spring. I am proud of that achievement—I am also certain we will make it.

My ballet entries also become more flowery, even if the pain has not. Madame Pratt is certainly putting me through the paces and I am actually dancing at a high pre-professional level. She says that I am better than Francie, even—but that she will never tell HER that!

I tear up a little as I read through the entry from a few weeks ago—the one where we went with Momma to try on wedding dresses. OMG! She was SO beautiful in so many of them! And the one she finally picked out—a DREAM! She looks like a Victorian pixie in it. I know Mummy will be so proud when she sees it.

Of course, Mummy’s is just as pretty—if in a much different way. Francie and I had gone with her the following weekend to help pick out HER’s.

I smile at the memories—then I sigh and start writing down the day’s events—the emotions, thoughts, and feelings that went through my head as the trial progressed. The flirtation with my own hate as she tries to portray me as an abomination and some kind of freak that should not be allowed to even exist. I never actually gave in to the hate—but trust me; it was close. I finish with the satisfaction that her punishment was just and well-deserved…and legal.

I close my diary and start getting ready for bed. As I clean the makeup off of my face, I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if I was still Vick—if none of this had ever happened. I shrug and throw away the soiled makeup remover pad and the question along with it. There is no sense in dwelling on it—that won’t change anything. Even with all of the crap going on around me—I have so much love CLOSE to me. How could I ever really ask for more or complain about what I DO have?

o~O~o

I put down the last period and hand in my last midterm paper—and I am done! It is Christmas break—the pressure is off for three weeks!

I almost skip out of the classroom—two things stop me. One, my stiletto heels would click too loudly on the hard floor and disturb those that aren’t done yet. Two, I still have to meet with Ronnie for one final time this term half.

She had worked really hard on getting things worked out with all involved in and around school. Mrs. DICK-enson’s arrest had caused a stir—but not the one that she had hoped for, I am sure. It actually paved the way for Ronnie to start some of the reforms that Momma, Mummy, and I had been working on, as well. As part of EVERYONE’s midterms, they are taking ‘the test’—the profile that Mummy had worked out.

When we come back, it will be to the results of those tests and an assigned house. Legally, students can’t be forced into the house they are assigned to, at least not in a public school, but, my idea of extra-credit took off. Ronnie figured out a series of extra-credits that students can earn for participation in the program. Some are good towards grades—for those that need a little boost in that arena. Some are extra-curricular. Some are social. All in all, there should be an incentive for most everyone to at least give it a try.

I smile at Ginger and she waves me in. I go into Ronnie’s office and say, “Wow! Break at last!”

She giggles and says, “I know what you mean! Of course, you, your Moms, and I are going to still be busy getting ready for ‘the reform’. I will get the completed ‘tests’ to Angi by the end of the day. We lucked out and got EVERYONE—no illnesses to make up for.”

She hands me a thumb drive and says, “The spreadsheet is on here for assignment to the houses. I appreciate you filling it out—I have to remind you, AGAIN, though, that you can’t talk about it to anyone. Normally students would not have access to this type of information, but given that you are ALREADY classified as pink…”

She smiles and I say good-naturedly, “And I say, AGAIN, that I understand and appreciate the trust.”

Ronnie looks at me and says, “This was a brilliant idea, Paige—and you get all the credit.”

I shake my head and say, “No, it is Mummy’s model—my life circumstances just put me in a place to find a way to advance it.”

Ronnie says, “And you chose to put those life circumstances to good use—and not to wallow in self-pity. I don’t know how *I* would have reacted had I been in your shoes.”

I shake my head and say, “Don’t make me out to be some saint, please! I’m not, I assure you! I have my dark days—I just have a wonderful support structure.”

I give her a hug and say, “Merry Christmas! Sorry, I’m not one of those ‘Happy Holiday’ types. If Christmas isn’t your thing, I hope you have a good ‘whatever you want to have good’ one!”

She laughs and says, “Christmas is fine… You have a wonderful one, too, Paige!”

This time I actually DO skip down the hall and out the front door. I smile as I see the pink Porsche waiting for me. I pull my winter coat tighter closed, breathe out and watch my breath, smile, and walk in a much more sophisticated and elegant way to meet my Mummy for my ride home.

Momma shouts up the stairs, “Paige? Francie? Are you girls ready? Angi and I are leaving!”

I poke my head around the corner and say loud enough that Momma can hear at the bottom of the stairs, “Just a minute Momma. I can’t get my bag zipped!”

I go back into my room and Francie comes and SITS on my bag. I quickly zip it and pray that the zipper will hold against the bulging pressure mounting from the inside. I pull it up onto its wheels with a grunt and start pulling it towards the stairs. I look back and give Francie a cheeky look and ask, “Coming?”

Francie giggles and goes to get her own bag. We navigate them down the stairs and to the garage. We load them into Momma’s Mercedes SUV and climb into the back seat. Momma and Mummy are waiting for us in the front—making a good effort at pretending to be impatient. I look at the clock and it reads five a.m. I yawn.

Momma starts the car and backs out. Alecia’s grandparents offered us to stay with them at their ski chalet for Christmas as payment for the time that Alecia spent with us here in Mummy’s house over fall break and Mummy’s support. Alecia truly has grown as a person and is adjusting well to becoming the girl she is meant to be, especially with Mummy’s help.

I am still not sure how it is all supposed to work out with Mindy here and us there—but Momma says she has it handled. I don’t ask any questions—I think I REALLY don’t want to know.

It is a little over a ten-hour drive to where we are headed and we all take a turn at the wheel. We also have a great time as a group—singing Christmas carols and sipping hot chocolate the whole way. When we get there, we are all blown away by the ‘chalet’—it is more like a Swiss mansion. Alecia’s grandparents are there—and so is Alecia.

We all hug and giggle and sit down to a supper of a hearty, hot chowder and crusty, warm bread with butter. I am even allowed a little wine. The food is wonderful and the mood is so…relaxed; but appropriately somber—in honor of this time of year.

I still can’t believe that Alecia is, well…Alecia. I mean, she is a lovely girl—in all senses of the word. And her grandparents—there is NO way that they can be related to…Misty. They are SO NICE! I don’t know how much they know about…Misty…but, I have a feeling that they are not ignorant about at least SOME of the details.

We finish eating and make plans to go skiing in the morning. We all go up to get ready for bed. I wash and moisturize my face and stretch as I climb into the heavenly, comfortable bed, Francie and I have separate rooms—at least officially. It doesn’t take long for her to climb in bed with me, though.

o~O~o

I wake up and look around the room—it is beautiful! I look into Francie’s eyes, in bed next to me and smile wider. She wakes up and smiles at me. We kiss and get up to get ready. We neither one know ONE THING about skiing, but ‘Gramma Jenny’ is going to be our teacher.

Alecia rushes into our room, already dressed, and without knocking. I turn a little red and say, “Ummm…Alecia? Maybe knock next time?”

She giggles and says, “It’s just us girls, right? And I totally KNEW that you and Francie were in here together. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Gramma and Grampa! Although, I don’t think they would care—they are both TOTALLY in love with you both.”

We get into our skiing outfits and hurry down to meet up with Gramma. We spend the morning learning how to ‘plow’ on the ‘bunny slope’. By lunch, we are pretty good at it and Gramma says that we will pick it up again tomorrow.

I sigh, because I have to go back and work on the ‘House’ spreadsheet for school. Gramma goes to meet up with the rest for an afternoon of REAL skiing. Francie and I look at each other and giggle as she expertly skis to the lift to one of the ‘black’ (expert) slopes.

After a wonderful lunch that Francie and I put together (who knew I could BE so hungry), I work on the spreadsheet in the sunroom and Francie lounges and reads a steamy romance novel. After two hours, I have Pink House sorted out… I go over and kiss Francie and she pulls me into a deeper one…

We go down to help with supper after we both take a bath to clean up and get relaxed. After we eat, we all play a bunch of board games and have an overall great time. Bed comes all too soon, but is certainly welcome—we are all dead tired after the exciting day; well those of us that aren’t USED to skiing, anyways.

The next days are basic repeats of the first. Ski lessons for Francie and me in the morning (Momma and Mummy both already know how—who knew?) and Francie relaxing while I work on the ‘Houses’ in the afternoons; then fun and games in the evening.

Mummy continues to work with Alecia and she is making a LOT of progress, especially physically—those hormones are really kicking in. Mummy is even ready to give her an implant. And she actually gets it on Christmas day. Needless to say, there aren’t any better presents that anyone else gets!

Overall, Christmas day is a wonderful day. There is so much camaraderie, so much love—so many presents. None of those can light a candle to the feeling of belonging—the only thing that will make that better is when the wedding happens next summer. Nothing can REPLACE Dad—but this is a VERY close clone. Even gaining new ‘grandparents’ is so fulfilling… I never knew Dad’s parents...

Alecia knocks on my door after Christmas dinner. She pulls me out of my somber reverie. I smile as I invite her in. She sits on the bed next to me and I brush out her now shoulder-length hair. She sighs in contentment and asks me, “Paige, are you really OK with your implant. I mean, I TRULY am so grateful for mine—I AM Alecia. I couldn’t have gotten a better Christmas present from Angi. I…I…I feel so sorry for what my Dad did to you… It is so unfair!”

I hug her and say, “Alecia, Hon. I am at peace with my lot. No, I would not have chosen this path. Yes, I am truly happy. Things happen for a reason. Look at us now. We are a tight-knit family—all of us, together. I’m sorry your Dad isn’t part of that—I truly am. I know what it’s like to lose a Dad.”

We hug each other and cry together. Then we fix each other’s makeup and go down for family night.

That night, I reflect on the last several days. Christmas is awesome in this community—and our family seems to have truly grown. We are fully accepted by Alecia and her grandparents. And they are fully accepted by us.

So, it is no surprise that the new year is rung in with love and commitments for a full and meaningful year by all of us. Oh, I also get to try champagne for the first time—not really a fan (although, it IS better with orange juice). I hug and kiss my love, Francie. I hug Alecia and whisper to her, “Welcome to the family, GIRL!” She smiles so brightly; it truly warms my heart (or it COULD be the champagne…)

The two weeks are gone in the blink of an eye and we are packing up to go back home. Francie and I both actually make it down a ‘red’ (intermediate) slope on the last day. The last night is another big meal and loads of ‘family time’.

We leave the next morning amidst promises of another ‘family reunion’ here at the Chateau for Easter. I hug Gramma and Grampa and they hug me back, tightly. Gramma whispers in my ear, “You are a special lady, Paige. Thank you for what you’re doing for Alecia. And…don’t you DARE let Francie go—she is JUST as special.” She winks at me as she breaks the hug and I blush bright red.

The ride back is somehow longer than the ride there. At least I have time to finish the spreadsheet in the car. I smile as I save it and say, “Done! Every student is assigned to a house—and PINKS still ROCK!”

Mummy is driving and giggles. She looks at me in the mirror and says, “Good work, Love! This is going to work. I just know it!”

o~O~o

I stand on the stage for our first assembly. Ronnie has turned the microphone over to me. She has explained most of how this is to work—a month in the assigned house; a house-related project (self-defined, but meaningful); a chance to change houses ONCE during the month (with GOOD reason); and then houses become voluntary.

I step up to the microphone and say, in a nervous tone, “Hi everyone. Umm…well, the house rosters will be posted by the time assembly is over. If you’re in Pink house, then come see me—I’m head pink. Miss Ferguson did not go into the houses, there is pink, green, blue…”

I am SO glad THAT is over. It took me a half hour to explain the houses. There are some incredulous looks about such house as yellow (lesbians) or lavender (gay boys) or that there could be too many in any other than pink or blue. Of course, there ARE some openly gays…and their scores DID substantiate their status. Of course, I KNOW there are going to be surprises—and lots of grumbling—and hopefully, some ‘coming outs’…

After I meet with the heads of the houses (these had been selected based on scores and willingness to lead), I go to Room 326—‘Pink HQ’ and wait for my initiates. A good number of them are on the cheer team—no surprise there. Several are guys that I would NEVER have pegged as potential TG; let alone pink material. The others are more or less no surprise—all genetic females…

The group trickles in. I hug my cheer peeps as they come in. Of course, Penny and Paulette are yellow…but COULD transfer to pink later, if they choose.

When Jonathan and Greg come in—they are both furious. They are seniors—there are several other boys that are in lower grades and they all look shell-shocked to be here—ten, in all. Jonathan says, “This is an OUTRAGE! How did I get assigned to this…this…this PINK HELL?” Greg looks less furious, but not really happy, either.

I say, “Calm down, Jonathan, right? I promise you that the test doesn’t lie. You are here for a reason. Now, you can fight it. You can ignore it. You can even be a bitch about it. But, for the next month, you’re going to HAVE to get used to it. In two weeks, you can change WITH GOOD REASON, if you so choose. The same goes for ALL of you… Now, can we please all sit down. Since we are a mixture of grades and I don’t think everyone knows everyone…”

We spend the next half hour telling each other who we are. Some are more open than others. Then Ronnie stops by and reminds everyone about the grade aspects of this and people become more ‘engaged’.

I close the session by saying, “OK, fellow pinks. First, always remember that pinks ROCK—we ARE the best. Second, we always want to show that we are pinks. I will be dressing accordingly over the next month. That doesn’t necessarily mean you have to DRESS in pink—just, well in a very feminine way. Jonathan and Greg—you’ll have to decide how you show your allegiance for the next two weeks. Give an honest try and if you still feel that you don’t belong in two weeks, I won’t stand in your way of transferring.”

Jonathan grumbles—to put it mildly. Greg looks thoughtful. The other girls are already making plans amongst themselves. I smile—I have forty-eight pinks; well, I am pretty sure I have thirty-six—the boys…well, time will tell.

I hand each of the new Pinks a brochure on the way out. MOST won’t need them—not in Pink house; at least not the girls… Mummy has offered free counseling to anyone that is uncomfortable with their score—and assignment. It certainly will come as a shock to many. Depending on the demand for counseling, she has some other counselors lined up that have agreed to volunteer their time.

Jonathan gives me an evil look as he takes the brochure and crumbles it up. He throws the crumpled ball on the floor in front of my feet and storms out. Even Greg looks embarrassed. He takes the brochure and says, “Look, Paige. I don’t know what to think about all of this…but I will give it a try. I need the grade…”

I nod and say, “OK, Greg—just let me know how I can help. OK? And…try and calm down Jonathan?”

He nods and hurries off after him. I sigh as the last of the group files out. Tomorrow should be interesting.

o~O~o

I get out of Mummy’s Porsche and am a bit surprised when she gets out, as well. She smiles and says, “I have several counseling appointments this morning. I had ten text requests before I went to bed last night—and three more this morning.”

I nod and we walk towards the building together. I look around and there is a subtle difference to the normal routine. There are different groupings of kids—people talking to each other that you normally don’t see together. Some animated, some more subdued.

There are also differences in some of the clothing choices. I had made a special effort to be in ‘Pink’ mode this morning—although, I am not wearing one stitch of pink clothing. That is just to make a point. I unconsciously play with my ‘green’ bracelet and take in the new ‘styles’. While, the groups are not totally by house—and the clothing is not always plainly indicative of the house—the prevailing ‘style’ seems to be to have a color-theme that goes with the assigned house.

I shake my head and say to Mummy, “I’m SO glad I didn’t wear pink today!”

She giggles and says, “They will get it after a while—at least most seem to be trying to engage the spirit of the houses.”

I nod and say, “I guess… Good luck with the counseling sessions. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

Mummy hugs me and goes to the front office. I go towards my first class. Molly, a new Pink comes up to me—bathed in pink—and smiles brightly. She says, “Hi Paige! I…hope this is OK?”

I smile and say, “Hi Molly. You look cute! But remember—being a Pink is not JUST about the color. It’s about being FEMININE! See? Not a stitch of pink on me today—but I’m most certainly a Pink!”

Her face falls a bit and I smile at her. “I didn’t mean to make out like there is anything WRONG with Pink, Molly! I wear it a lot…and you DO look feminine! Very much so, in fact,” I mollify her.

Her smile comes back and she giggles. She says, “Thanks! So do you! See you in Home Pink after last class?”

I nod and she scurries off to her class.

I run into several more of mostly the same encounters before I get to class. When I get there, I almost giggle. Greg is wearing a pink shirt and is trying his best to act girly. Before I can actually enter the room, though, Jonathan corners me in the hallway. He pushes me up against the wall.

He growls, “How COULD you give my score to my PARENTS?”

I shrug and say, “*I* didn’t give anything to anyone, Jonathan.”

He has a furious look on his face—but the look in his eyes is…haunted, maybe even scared.

He says, “Whatever. Now they know…they are forcing me to go to the counseling session. Now, they give me these…looks… They are blaming the school… They’re talking to their lawyer today…”

I look at him curiously when it really hits me what he just said—not about the lawyers. I ask, “What do you mean, ‘now they know’?”

He shakes his head and just says, “Look! Leave me alone, OK? You and your damned ‘experiment’ have ruined my life—even more than it already WAS!”

He rushes off. I stand there…totally confused.

I break free of my confused reverie as the bell rings and go into the class and to my seat. Greg gives me a curious look, but there is no time to say anything before Mr. Sorenson comes in.

Greg comes over right after the bell rings and corrals me in a corner. He asks, “What was going on before class, Paige? I saw you with Jonny…”

I shrug and tell him what happened. Frankly, I am surprised that Greg is even talking to me.

He gets a pained look on his face and says, “Look, Paige. This has all opened up a can of worms for Jonny and me. I…will be able to handle it…I think. It’s immensely more complicated for Jonny.”

The blank look on my face clearly conveys my confusion. I ask, “What do you mean, Greg? I don’t understand. What can of worms?”

Greg sighs and says, “That test was totally right to put us in your house… Both Jonny and I ARE TG—there is no doubt. But, there was no way he could EVER tell his parents…now, that cat is out of the bag and he will have to face the consequences. He can’t pretend the scores don’t mean anything—his parents are too savvy for that.”

I pale—not knowing what that actually meant—but, it didn’t sound good. Before I can pry more into it, he continues.

He sighs, “As for me. Well, my parents are more tolerant…but, I just didn’t have the guts to come out. This has forced it… I guess I SHOULD be thankful…but I have seen what YOU have been going through…I don’t really WANT to go through that my last two years of school…”

I shake my head and say, “Look, Greg. I am not TG—not in that sense. So, I can’t say that I FULLY know what you’re feeling. What I CAN say is that it will eat at you more and more if you don’t face the fact that you’re a girl. That IS what you’re telling me, right?”

He bites his lower lip and nods.

I give him…her…a hug and ask, “Have you set up an appointment with Mummy?”

He shakes his head. I pull out my phone and send her a text. I get a response back in about a minute. I smile at Greg and say, “You have now. Be at the nurse’s office at ten. They will give you a pass once you’re there. So, do you like have a girl name you go by?”

He…she…smiles and says, ‘Well, I sorta like Emily…but just between us, for now, OK? Jonny is the only other person that knows…”

I nod solemnly and say, “Nice to meet you, Emily—and, of course! Don’t forget…ten o’clock!”

I hurry off to my next class.

o~O~o

Classes go by fairly well during the morning. I get SOME ‘f-u’ looks, some confused looks, even some worried ones. Other than Jonathan, no one outright accosts me, though—not until lunch, anyway.

I am sitting with some of the new Pinks and we are talking ‘girl stuff’, when a rather sullen-looking group—five in all—comes towards the table. I see them and whisper to the girls at the table to remain calm. Phillip Morris seems to be the leader of the group.

He looks at me with a seething grimace. He finally says, “I hope you’re HAPPY, freak. My parents are ready to throw me out…” There are mumbles of agreement across the group—this seems to be the common issue with the group.

I carefully touch the little icon on my phone and look at Phillip. I ask, “What do you mean, Phillip? You’re in Green, why would they be bothered by that?”

He looks at me—the look on his face is bordering on hateful. He spits, “That means I’m not ‘MAN’ enough for my Dad and—if anything—not GIRLY enough for my Mom…”

Randal Jones speaks up and says, “My Dad just calls me a fruit, now. Your little test may SAY I’m gay—or bi—or whatever, but I’m NOT! I don’t have ANY interest in guys—not THAT way! You’ve ruined my life!”

Amanda Grey says, “What am *I* supposed to do? My parents think I want to be a GUY!”

Randal looks over at her and asks, “SO? DON’T you?”

Amanda pales, then blushes.

At that moment, Ronnie and Mummy show up—summoned by the special ‘911’ app on my phone.

Ronnie asks, “What’s going on here? Let’s take this to the office, NOW!”

The group of five, Ronnie, Mummy, and I go to the front office and into Ronnie’s conference room. I sit down next to Mummy—away from the group. My heart goes out to them, but it is still pumping from fear.

The group is still sullen and quiet, now. Ronnie and Mummy quickly pull out what their issues are and Mummy sets up five more sessions with them, while Ronnie contacts their parents for a mandatory meeting. She sighs, that makes thirty-eight of those, so far.

o~O~o

The tension over the week gets better in some circles and worse in others. Some students—and parents—engage the month’s activities as intended: An opportunity to grow and learn. Unfortunately, that is the minority—although only a slim one. There is another fairly large group where the students embrace the houses, but the parents are, well, less than happy. Surprisingly, there is a group of parents that think it is great, but not the students. Then, of course, there is the group where both the students AND the parents are dead-set against it.

Mummy, Ronnie, and I are debriefing the week after class on Friday. Ronnie sighs and says, “Well, we ARE being sued. That isn’t REALLY a surprise, I guess. I have conferred with our legal team—again—and they’re still confident we can prevail, since it technically isn’t a requirement—and no one is forced to STAY in a particular house.”

Mummy nods and says, “It seems that about 85% of the kids have either decided the house they are in fits—or it’s too much of a bother to justify a change. The other 15% want to change—but not all the way you might think… Some of the changes stay fully in the spectrum—it isn’t like all the boys are gunning for blue, for example.”

I nod and say, “And some of the kids are really trying. Some of the Pink projects are really cool—Emily seems to be adjusting fine—even coming out in class. Her parents are more open to it than she feared and now she is kicking herself for not doing it earlier.”

Mummy sighs and says, “I wish the news was as good for Jonathan. He still refuses to open up—and his parents are real pains about it.”

Ronnie nods and says, “Yep—they are the ones that filed the suit.”

Mummy says, “Well, you can lead a horse to water… We can only hope that at some point, Jonathan’s thirst gets strong enough that he will drink. His score and results didn’t flat out show suicidal tendencies, but they didn’t rule them out, either.”

I sigh and look at my watch. I say, “I have to run—cheer practice.”

Ronnie smiles and says, “How is it coming? You really think you can get the girls to go for State in the Spring?”

I nod and say, “I’m almost certain of it!”

Ronnie gives me a hug and says, “Well, go get ’em tigress!”

o~O~o

The second week of Houses starts pretty close the same as the first. I get out of Mummy’s pink Porsche and we walk up the steps together. The groupings are now more…normal…in that they lasted through the week and are what I am starting to expect. The fashions have solidified a bit, in that each house has sort of settled on a style of its own.

I’m not accosted as much. I do still get some angry stares from the anti-house group, but mostly, everyone has settled in enough to know that they can get through it and there is no need to take it out on me. Ronnie has made it very clear that she won’t tolerate that.

I start into my class and Emily is standing at the door. It seems she is waiting on me. She says, “Hi Paige. Umm…can we talk…after school?”

I nod and say, “Sure! There is no practice today. Want to go to Starbucks? I have to wait on Mummy to get through some end-of-day sessions.”

She nods and we go in together. Class starts a couple of minutes later and I don’t have time to think about it until much later in the day.

I look at the clock during last class and sigh—there is still a half hour left. I remember the coffee ‘date’ and smile, though. I am so glad that Emily came out…she seems happier with herself. I have no idea what she wants from me, though.

I meet up with her thirty-five minutes later. I had texted Mummy what my plans were and she just had wished us fun. We walk the three blocks to the Starbucks and find a seat after getting one of the sinfully sweet concoctions each.

We are in a secluded corner and Emily timidly sips on the hot liquid—intermittently blowing on it and sending a cloud of steam in my direction. I quietly wait—this is her gig.

Finally, she says, “I…I…I want to thank you, Paige—for forcing this, I mean. I know you’re catching heck from a lot of people about it. But…it is working out OK for me. My parents are…adjusting. It was a shock to them, but they are really trying to understand.”

I smile genuinely at her and say, “I’m SO glad, Emily!”

She smiles shyly and seems to gather her courage. Finally, she asks, “I was wondering if maybe you want to go to the mall one evening—or this weekend… You know to…shop?”

I giggle and say, “I would LOVE to! Just the two of us?”

Emily says, “Well, I don’t have any friends—not the kind that would want to go on something like this…”

The smile on my face falls a bit. I say, “I’m sorry about Jonathan—I had hoped…”

She shrugs and says, “It is her loss that she won’t stand up to her parents…”

I force a smile and say, “Anyway, I’m sure that we can get a fun group together. Just leave it to me!”

We finish our coffee and talk for a while. It is clear that Emily needs practice—but it is also clear that she really IS a girl. How did I miss that all of this time?

o~O~o

As it turns out, Penny, Amanda, and I don’t have practice on Wednesday night—well, none of us do, but the two of them want to go to the mall with me…and Emily.

Emily is SO excited when we get into Penny’s car after school and she drives us to the mall. On the way, Amanda asks, “So, how are you holding up, Emily? I know you’re catching SOME flack.”

She plays with the green bracelet on her arm—the one with REAL stones, like mine, signifying her as certified TG. She says, “Overall, it’s OK. Thankfully, Paige paved the way for some of the issues—at least there is some clarity as to expectations. Other than that, yeah, I catch the same shit that Paige does.”

Penny pulls into a parking spot and says, “Well, I think this house thing IS helping. I know it has opened up a BUNCH of cans of worms, but that really is taking the spotlight off of us and putting it back on those that thought they were above it all.”

I nod and say, “Yes. It will be interesting to see who switches next week—and to where…”

We all get out of the car and I ask, “So, anywhere in particular you want to go, Em? Anything special you want?”

She blushes and pulls a paper out of her purse and says, “I got my Mom to sign this permission slip…would you girls mind going to Claire’s with me? I want to get my ears pierced!”

We all scream in excitement and give her a big hug—and walk in unison towards the door.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I know that I have taken some artistic license with our U.S. legal system here, but this is all in the vein of fiction and fun—so, all of you lawyers and legal-minded readers, please forgive me!

HUGS!

o~O~o

The next day, about mid-morning, I am called to the front office and then straight into Ronnie’s office. I am, once again, surprised to find Mummy and Momma there—along with the school lawyers.

Ronnie asks me to take a seat and gets straight the point, “Paige, normally I wouldn’t include a student in these affairs, but, once again, I’m afraid you’re embroiled in this.” She looks at Momma who is on her phone—Momma looks up and nods.

Ronnie continues, “OK, Sheila, your lawyer is on her way—but, I want to go ahead and continue, if that’s alright. We can catch her up when she gets here?”

Momma nods.

Ronnie sighs and says, “Well, Jonathan Malloy’s parents have filed suit—we all knew that. It seems they have been able to get it moved into federal district court—so, at least for now, it isn’t a civil suit. Although, I’m not sure I’m happy about a constitutional suit, I AM told by our legal team that we have a good argument. Depending on how THAT goes will likely determine the extent of any civil suit.”

The lawyers around the room all nod in agreement.

Ronnie looks at me and says, “It will be up to you and your lawyers as to how they want to handle YOUR part in this, Paige, but I thought you should know—your Mom agreed. I and our lawyers think it would be good if you ARE a part of this.”

I look around the table and ask, “So, what does this mean?”

One of the lawyers says, “Well, it will basically come down to a question of whether the school, through the implementation of your experiment, violated anyone’s constitutional privacy rights. We will argue that there was informed consent in the case of the minors—and once the school was aware of the results, it had no choice but to inform the parents and act. Failure to act would have made the school liable for sexual discrimination under Title VII. That is oversimplified, but we think we can pull it off—depending on the judge.”

Momma looks at me and says, “Normally, this is another of those things that would take MONTHS—somehow, they got it moved into court under an emergency declaration. We go to court next WEEK!”

o~O~o

The rest of the week is ALL about preparations for the case. It is decided that I will take part even though, technically, I could get out of it, since I am a minor and acted within the scope of what my mother and the school was allowing.

Sheila and the school lawyers work with us all. Mrs O’Dell also has her team working on an amicus brief. The night before the first day of court, we go to the mall and get my three new outfits to wear that are court ‘appropriate’. We also get mani-pedis and have a nice dinner. Then we go home and do more prep.

When the alarm goes off, I open my eyes and want to throw up when I realize what day it is. I get up and quickly get dressed. I go down and force a smoothie down, since the thought of anything solid doesn’t sit well with my stomach.

An hour and a half before it is time, we all get into Momma’s Mercedes and she drives us to the courthouse. We meet up with the legal team in a conference room that is provided to us and go through some last minute details.

Then it is time…

I sit there letting all of the preliminary court ‘stuff’ go in one ear and out the other. I fight back the queasiness in my stomach. I look around and see that Jonathan is NOT here. As a matter of fact, I am the only student here—the others are all in class. I think this is the first time I have EVER envied anyone for being IN school when I am not.

I wish I could say it gets more interesting—it doesn’t. It’s all about people getting up and telling their side of things—only all wrapped up in all kinds of legalese. I wish we were allowed phones, so I could at least text…

Finally, it is my turn…

I get up on the stand and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth…

I tell my story of how I was tricked into changing genders and the repercussions it has had on me in school, given the laws around transgendered individuals in the State. The judge asks me several questions as do the lawyers on both sides. Then I tell about my idea for using the houses in school to get over the discrimination—or to at least force people to THINK about it. To understand that there IS a spectrum—that it is NOT all black and white.

There are LOTS more questions after that… I feel really sick and tired after nearly a full day of it.

Finally, after three days of it all, the judge says, “Well, normally, I would not render a ruling so quickly, but since this was fast-tracked, I will have my verdict ready at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow. Court is adjourned!”

Everyone files out. The lawyers are not sure how it will go, since they could not really get a read on how the judge may be leaning. Sheila says, “I think it may go more in our favor than not—I can’t say why; it is just a feeling. PLUS, we are RIGHT!”

Momma, Mummy, and I go out to eat and I go to bed early.

The next morning, I sleep in a little later and get up in time to get ready for us to get to the courthouse for the verdict.

Of course, there is media all over the place and of course, they try to get US to say something. Momma says that we will be happy to talk after the verdict and we go in to take our seats.

The judge comes in precisely at one o’clock and sits down. He gets straight to the point.

He looks at the Malloys and says, “I have to say that I am truly disappointed that parents would use a venue like this to try and discriminate against their own child. By your own admission in your statements, you agreed to your child taking the profile test, knowing full well that it was a test designed to profile an individual on the LGBT spectrum, because you thought that it would prove that your child was quote-unquote NORMAL.”

He turns a little red and says, “That is wrong on so many levels. First, that you have created an environment for your child that was so hostile to the very idea that being transgendered is an unfathomable thing and so toxic that your child was scared to death to let you know. Then, that you would approve a test only with the goal that it would prove your world view, then sue when it does not.”

He takes a breath as the Malloys squirm. He continues, “Your contention that your child’s and even YOUR privacy was violated by the release of the information is completely undermined by this fact, plus that the information was to be used in the fully disclosed school experiment. The fact that it did not result in an outcome that fits with your outdated and bigoted worldview is not in support of your case. As for the school releasing the information to ANY of the parents of minors that signed the consent form, there is no violation of privacy.”

He takes a breath and says, “What the court was not asked in this case and will not rule on, is the question of informing the parents of those minors that are sixteen and older. The question becomes that of is being on the LGBT spectrum a MEDICAL issue that protects that information under HIPAA. One can see the argument that underlying cause of being, say transgendered, at the psychological level is no more a medial issue than having red hair. Yes, there is a medical component, in that there are some remedies to the fact that the internal gender does not fit the external body—but, to say that the internal gender itself is a medical issue, would raise that condition to be disease. Based on discussions here, that would seem to be a questionable determination and would not speak against providing the information to the parents, but it is a question that needs further investigation. In the meantime, I can see no reason to withhold the information from the parents.”

He then looks at me. He smiles and says, You, young lady, are very brave indeed. You have been wronged on so many levels, yet you still try and make things better, not only for you, but for everyone around you. That is very commendable. I hope that you can maintain that quality for the rest of your life. As for your perceived experiment, I applaud you on that, as well. In spite of flawed State laws that are indeed unconstitutional and illegally discriminatory, you prevailed in coming up with a viable plan to fully bring your school in line with the very spirit of Title VII. It may be a slightly different interpretation of workplace, but I agree with your lawyers that school is indeed your place of ‘employment’ at this stage in your life and that you have every right to not be subjected to illegal discrimination.”

He looks to the courtroom at large and says, “This court was not initially asked to rule on the constitutionality of LB1345—the State’s ‘wristband law’, since there was a separate request to the court on that. However, it is such an integral part of this case that I have agreed to fold it in. Requiring anyone to have to wear a distinguishing marking based on sex, race, gender, sexual orientation, marital status, or any other protected status, is so against the foundational beliefs of this country that it is beyond comprehension. We entered a second world war to stop the VERY SAME THING in other countries! We have fought hard as country to not have a culture of branding individuals. Yes, we have a sordid past on this issue, but it is not in line with the founders’ intent and it is not in line with this court’s thinking.”

He takes a sip of water and continues, “As such, I declare LB1345 as constitutionally and morally corrupt. The law and its requirements must be immediately vacated.”

There is a loud murmur that ripples through the room.

The judge continues, “As for the experiment. I find that this experiment is FULLY in line with the constitution and Title VII. As such, I not only encourage the school to continue the experiment, but I order that this experiment be continued for the remainder of the school year and beyond as a pilot to determine whether the same or similar programs need be implemented in all schools across the circuit to counter known discrimination against protected statuses, similar to the busing orders in the south during the mid-twentieth century. A known wrong must not only be stopped, but also corrected.”

The murmur turns into a buzz…a LOUD buzz.

The judge bangs his gavel and says, “I will supply my written ruling by the end of the day. This session is adjourned.”

We all hug each other and congratulate the lawyers. I kiss Francie, who had come into town to hear the verdict. I can’t help but notice the venomous looks we get from the Malloys.

o~O~o

Of course this makes the national news and there is a HUGE buzz across the nation. The news shows are all talking about it—with mixed interpretations, depending on the station. The bigots immediately file an appeal but the Appeals Court won’t stop the lower court’s ruling until it can take on the case…in approximately two years.

As such, Ronnie immediately starts working with Mummy to solidify the program—it was never intended to be a PERMANENT program, it was only supposed to last a month. Momma works with the parental board, since there will need to be help and support from that side—of course, not everyone is HAPPY about the ruling and there is a faction that vows to do what they can to derail the program.

Since this is now going to be a foundational part of the school structure, a new student body board is stood up that is devised of the heads of each house (moving forward, to be voted on by each house) and then, of those, a president that is voted on by the board members. I am voted in as both official head of the Pinks and subsequently as the first president of the board.

All of that does create intermittent conflicts with my cheer plans—but, I am still pushing the group towards State…only a couple of months away. I will just HAVE to make it work—oh, and not derail my grades; Momma and Mummy have BOTH made that VERY clear.

o~O~o

About a month after the ruling, Jonathan comes up to me after our weekly Pink meeting—he had never made the effort to swap out of the group and, as such, is still officially a Pink. He doesn’t really ever attend the voluntary weekly after-school sessions, only the mandatory in-school ones, but for some reason he had come to today’s.

Thankfully all of the others in the group were really nice to him, especially Emily.

He looks at me and has a strange look on his face. It is a mixture of sadness and…hope? He says, “Paige, I know we got off on the wrong foot about this whole thing. I was really mad that this whole thing—that I blamed totally on you—had outed me to my parents and I didn’t think it was fair. I STILL don’t think anyone should get outed against their will, but that is another topic.”

I stand there silently and just nod. I don’t know where he is going with this, but I don’t want to get all defensive and shut him off.

He sighs and says, “My parents have basically pushed me out of the house—it doesn’t matter that I am not following my innermost desires. It doesn’t matter that I KNOW I am a girl and not pursuing it…for THEM. They…have made me move in with my ‘eccentric’ Aunt. For them, ‘eccentric’ means that she is very liberal…and is a big supporter of LGBT rights. When she found out about my ‘problem’ from my parents, she immediately offered to let me move in with her.”

I give him a thoughtful nod, but still remain silent—my eyes encouraging him to continue.

He says, “There is no pressure from her at all for me to transition. She is happy to let me be…well, me. Anyway, I thought I would tell you. I…I…I think I am going to try some things…at home. I’m not ready to be like you or Emily at school, though…not yet, at least.”

I go over to her and hug her. It is an overtly girly thing to do and I feel tears drip from her eyes onto my shoulder.

I slowly push her from me, holding onto her arms, so that I can see into her eyes and say, “You need to do what is best for YOU in this and not worry about what others think. I KNOW how hard that is, TRUST me! Honestly, though, what Emily…and now you…are doing is a lot harder than what I did, I think. Thankfully, you’re both now in safe and encouraging environments where you can blossom.”

I sigh and continue, “I’m sorry that this has driven a wedge between you and your parents. I also am sorry that you were outed against your wishes. None of that was EVER the intent. I can’t say the ends justify the means, but in this case, I can hope the ends ARE better than the alternatives.”

Jonathan bites his lips in a very girly way and, after a few seconds, simply nods.

I smile and say, “And, if you would like for me to come over to your house at some point and meet…well, YOU, then I would love to!”

He nods and says, “Emily said the same. Give me some time to adjust and I would love that, too. By the way, between us only, well, and Emily, I’m…Felicia.”

I hug her again and say, “I am VERY happy to meet you, Felicia. And, of course, this stays between us. Have you talked to my Mummy, yet? I think she would be happy to know that you are…becoming YOU.”

She shakes her head and says, “I want to but it’s tough to get an appointment with her right now…”

I smile and take my phone out my purse. I send a brief text. After a minute, I get one back.

I hug Felicia and say, “Tomorrow morning at 9:30. Us Pinks look out for one another, you know!”

I wink at her and she gives me a bright smile as we walk together towards the front entrance to go home for the day.

Quite honestly, the rest of the school-year is anti-climactic. Yes, we DO go to State as a cheer squad. No, we don’t win—we don’t even come close at third place. BUT WE WENT! And we will go next year, too—at least if I have anything to say about it.

Felicia slowly comes out of her shell. Emily and I spend a fair amount of time with her. They both come over to the house about once a week and we spend a lot of girl time—especially after I don’t have to go to cheer practice.

The one big thing that happens right before the end of school? My sweet sixteen! Momma and Mummy put on a surprise birthday party for me. The bigger surprise, though, is that FELICIA is there. She officially comes out to the rest of my friends at the party…and to the school the next week. While I would say that is the COOLEST thing about my party—I really can’t. That honor falls to the pink Audi TT convertible that Momma and Mummy give me as a birthday present! (Well, there is another, but I won’t talk about the birthday present that Francie gives me that night…)

So, what about school? Well, after things settled down, it is working really well. Starting next year, we will be a magnet school. Another high school is being commandeered by the intolerants and will OFFICIALLY be a magnet school that caters to political science (the right wing type, that is). No matter; there is already a waiting list of students from the surrounding schools in the district that want to be in a house. As it is, the school is looking to expand and build on. Other schools, from out-of-state, are also contacting ours to build on our model.

So, when we reach the last week of school, it is bitter-sweet. A lot was accomplished… I made a lot of friends… A lot of people were freed to be themselves, in part because of what I put in motion—intentionally, or not. I just wish we could have brought home that trophy—there is still next year, though!

On the last day, I hug Penny and Amanda—they are graduating and I already miss them. I hug the rest of the girls on the squad and we vow to bring home the trophy next year. I hug Emily and Felicia—we vow to keep up our weekly visits over the summer. I hug each and every Pink before I get into my TT and drive home—not even thinking about the fact that I am driving in five-inch heels. SO much has changed…

o~O~o

I zip up the back of Momma’s dress—she looks SO beautiful! Alecia comes in for the hundredth time—she keeps running back and forth between this room and Mummy’s where Francie is helping HER get ready.

We are at Gramma and Grampa’s chalet in the mountains and the procession is about to happen up the mountain (in cable cars, of course) to where Momma and Mummy are going to get married.

Alecia says, “They’re ready! And…Aunt Dawn—you look AMAZING!”

Momma hugs Alecia and says, “Thanks, Love! You look very beautiful, yourself!”

Grampa knocks on the door and comes in. He smiles brightly and hugs Momma. He says, “Angi and Francie just left for their ride up—Gramma is with them. We will wait a few minutes and take our car up. Are you ready? No cold feet, right?”

Momma smiles and shakes her head. She says, “No, I have never been as certain about anything in my life. I can’t thank you enough for doing this for us, George.”

He shakes his head and says, “Nonsense! That’s what family is for!”

Momma steps into her shoes and we all head out and down the stairs to the car waiting to take us to the cable car station.

Fifteen minutes later, we are looking out the window of the cable car. Alecia is taking a lot of pictures on her phone. The ride is about 10 minutes to the top and we get out of the car where there is a horse-drawn carriage awaiting us. We get in and the driver takes us on another ten-minute ride across the meadow to where the wedding is to take place.

The official photographer is there and snapping away as Momma takes Grampa’s arm and gets out of the carriage. Alecia and I hurry up to where Francie is standing, close to Mummy who is waiting. We take up our places and the wedding music starts.

Since there was only one Grampa, it had been decided that Momma would walk down the aisle with him and Mummy would wait at the altar. It has nothing to do with one being the ‘man’ in the relationship and one being the ‘woman’—they are BOTH very much women. It was just…well, sweet watching Grampa proudly walk Momma down the aisle, like she really was his daughter.

Grampa ‘delivers’ Momma to the waiting Mummy and the minister and the ceremony starts. There is not a dry eye at the top of the mountain when Momma and Mummy kiss each for the first time as a married couple.

Of course, then we party…until the last cable car takes us down the mountain. And then we party some more at Gramma and Grampa’s.

When we finally get ready for bed at around three in the morning, I kiss Francie and say, “Someday that’s going to be us, right?”

Francie snuggles up to me and asks, “Why Paige, are you asking me to marry you?”

I am stunned—I hadn’t even thought of it that way. I swallow a little nervously and say, “Well, yes…I suppose I am… Will you?”

Francie squeezes me and gives me a hard kiss with soft lips. She pulls back and says, “Yes, my Love. I can’t think of anything I want more!”

I give a little shriek and Momma and Mummy stick their heads in the door. Momma asks, “Is everything OK, girls?”

Mummy looks at us with concern.

I smile and say, “Yes, Mothers. Everything is perfect! You are now both officially my mothers—and, well, based on the fact that Francie just agreed to marry ME, in a few years, you are going to officially be hers, too!”

Well, let’s just say that after that, there is no sleep to be had that night as the party, albeit now just close family (including Gramma and Grampa) starts back up…

o~O~o

To be continued…
I know this is a short epilogue, of sorts for ‘Junior Year’, but I am really busy with RL and my brain can’t totally focus on the story. It is not over, yet, by any means, so don’t go away. It will just take me a couple of weeks to continue it on—although, it will most likely be with Paige in College. No worries, though, I will get everyone caught up!

HUGS!