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Notice: This is where Bailey's story begins. A few elements of this story are true, but it is mostly fictional. I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to comment, or send me a message. ~Taylor

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Part 1

My stepfather happened to be a genuine bastard. Sure, kids say it. Usually it's because he took away their favorite toy, or grounded them. Maybe he even kept them from doing things they wanted to do. However, my stepfather turned out to be different. He took away my dignity and kept me from having a normal life. I only hope he realized how much of a bastard he became, before he took his own life in prison. Perhaps I should give a little history.

In the Spring of 1985, the doctor slapped me on the butt, and I breathed my first breath through a screaming cry. I was given the name Zachary Emlyn Taylor. Though I looked like any other healthy baby boy, I had been born a bit different. I came into this world with hypogonadism, a syndrome that would cause me problems later in life, but somewhat irrelevant at this point in the story. The doctors had no way of catching it, so they assumed I would be like any other normal boy.

For the most part, I did have a normal life as a little boy. I got into trouble a lot with my older brother Justin, who had preceded me by almost five years. Together we wrecked things, and caused general mayhem. My parents loved me as much as any other kid. Through it all, I never knew I lacked anything. I raced through the toddler stage without any signs of trouble. For a long time there were no impending road blocks to my development, at least none that were visible.

Two months after my fifth birthday, my father, Kevin, died in a horrible car wreck. He left my mother, Susan, with a large amount of life insurance money, and my brother and I hefty savings bonds for when we turned eighteen. I loved my real father as much as a five year old could. It was hard for awhile for Justin and I to grasp the concept of our father never being there again, but eventually we moved on.

Perhaps I moved on a bit faster, because I really didn't fully understand it all at the time. My mother took a little more time, constantly crying herself to sleep, but when I reached the age of seven, she had begun to date again. She married my stepfather, Tom Walker, almost a year and a half later, and by the time I turned nine, he had made it his goal to ruin my life.

Aside from taking away the last name of my father, Tom's first move on the agenda was to show my brother and I tough love. To him this meant making fun of our physiques. Usually he would tell us to put some meat on our bones. He informed us that we'd never be taken seriously as real men if we didn't do extraneous labor.

In the course of the next several months we had helped him put a fence in, helped landscape by shoveling in tons of rock, and had helped him put up a shed and dog pen in the backyard. Through the course of each event, I personally was berated as being a sissy and told I needed to be a real man, because I couldn't keep up with them. My brother took it all to heart, and eventually would go on to lifting weights and playing football.

Eventually my stepfather found I couldn't put on a lot of muscle, and he started to take it easy on me. Though his form of taking it easy still entailed the berating comments. The sissy comments came more and more, especially when I decided to allow my hair to grow out. He insisted that I get it cut before school started. My mother liked it.

She put her foot down, and my bushy, curly locks of dirty blonde hair stayed. When it came time to start school, my hair had almost grown to chin length. I thought for sure my mother standing up to my stepfather would be the end of his torment. For a while it seemed that way.

It all started going downhill when I met Tiffany, my first girlfriend, (and I use the term loosely) in the sixth grade. At least once a week, sometimes two or three times, I would go over to her house after school. We would do homework, play games, run around her neighborhood, and basically it was just two kids having fun.

I loved spending time there - mostly to get away from my stepfather, as he would come home early sometimes - but my mother would always pick me up way too early. My mother didn't mind me going there. It kept me from being home alone for a few hours on most days, and she could get me right on the way home from work.

On one of my occasional trips to Tiffany's house, I noticed her painting her toenails a light pink. I remember it was barely noticeable against the color of her skin beneath, and it fascinated me. Why, I asked, would someone waste their time painting their nails to where it wasn't even noticeable? Only it came out in absurd sixth grade vernacular.

"Why do you waste your time with that?"

"It feels good," she responded. A few moments passed. "Would you like to try it?"

I'm sure her neighbors probably heard me say no, but she insisted she only meant to try it on her. I hesitantly obliged and soon found myself on the floor in front of her. She showed me how to apply it on a couple of her toes, and then handed the small brush and bottle to me. It felt like it took hours, but I carefully applied the nail polish to the rest of her toes. As I recall, she had the cutest feet I can remember.

As she cleaned up a few of my mistakes, she must have asked me three or four times if I'd like for her to paint mine. I turned her down each time, even with her assurance that the nail polish remover was right there. We sat and talked for a little bit, until she had me apply a second coat. Soon after I had to leave.

We never said anything about it, but over the course of the week to follow, I couldn't help but to look at her feet and know I painted her toenails. It was a tiny little secret we shared. I'm sure she caught me looking several times, because the next time I went to her house, she broke out the nail polish first thing and asked if I wanted to paint her nails. I showed perhaps too much enthusiasm as I took the tiny bottle from her.

She disappeared into the bathroom, and walked out barefoot several minutes later. After we both were settled, I began the painstaking process of painting her toenails the same light pink as before. The only difference was that I felt more comfortable the second time, and I think she did too. In fact I felt so comfortable with our new closeness, that I stole a kiss on each one of her feet. At the time I don't know why I did it, as we hadn't even shared many kisses on the lips. However, she seemed happy that I did it.

This little ritual of ours went on for several months. She would allow me to paint her toenails almost every time I went to her house, each time insisting that I finish with a kiss on each foot. We used different colors, but she had a fondness for pink. So for the most part we would go through the different shades of pinks.

Every so often I would watch her paint her fingernails to match. Though she offered to let me do her fingernails, I declined with too much fear that I would screw them up. I never told anyone about our little ritual. I was afraid people would get the wrong impression. It just wasn't something little boys do for playtime. So it continued, about once a week, until close to the end of the school year.

I must've been really bored one day. Tiffany sat in front of me. Her feet rested gently upon my folded legs, and her toenails sparkled with a fresh coat of hot pink nail polish. She seemed bored as well, because I remember her staring outside her back door. It was the tail end of December, and too cold to do anything outside.

Either the boredom got to me, or the sheer power of persuasion, but after a bit of pleading, she finally got to me. I agreed to let her paint my toenails. At first I chose the light pink color that wouldn't show, but she seemed upset. She revealed she wanted to paint mine to match hers. I looked at the little bottle of hot pink polish, and reluctantly agreed. I could always take it off. I uncrossed my legs, as she pulled at my socks. After a few quick rolls on the legs of my jeans, she was happily at work.

The feeling surprised me at first. It was strange, but not as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it actually felt good, as she had put it earlier. It felt as if my nails had an extra bit of protection. We sat in silence as she applied the first coat. She seemed to be having fun, and so I didn't put up much of a fight.

I watched her cute innocent face contort into a series of varying degrees of seriousness. Her long black hair had been tied out of the way into a ponytail, but short strands of it fell past her face. Then my eyes fell on her painted toes sitting so very close to my own feet. Each toenail she painted soon mimicked one of her own. Before long she had finished, and her voice snapped me back to reality.

"Do you want me to take it off, or would you like a second coat?"

"I don't see how another coat would hurt."

Tiffany smiled brightly. After a few minutes of drying, she once again set about painting my toenails. When she finished she asked if I wanted my fingernails done. I quickly declined her offer, thinking we'd gone far enough for the day. She still seemed happy, and put her cute little toes next to mine to compare. We spent the rest of the afternoon lying on her bed playing videogames. Our feet up in the air behind us, with matching hot pink toenails.

From then on, our ritual changed. Every time I would go to her house, before we did anything, I would paint her toenails, and then she would paint mine to match. Then I would thank her by giving each of her feet a kiss. Though my polish would be quickly removed before I went home, I could tell she still enjoyed doing it. She seemed a bit sad that mine had to go, but she understood. After our ritual, we would do our homework together, and then goof around for a bit. The entire thing brought us closer together.

Eventually she asked if I could get away with wearing nail polish until I saw her again, and I took the challenge. My only failsafe was my mother's nail polish remover, but I could try to pass it off as my girlfriend getting bored, if I ever got caught. My stepfather and brother most likely wouldn't let me live it down, but I took the chance anyway. It seemed to work, and before long Tiffany had me wearing polish fulltime on my toenails. She would change the color every time I went to her place. I constantly had to make sure it wasn't seen at home.

Summer came fast, and I convinced my mother to let me spend entire days at Tiffany’s house. She would drop me off before work, and pick me up after. What I took as my mom being entirely trusting at the time, turned out to be her way of spoiling me because of the way my stepfather treated me. Only then I was a kid, and really didn't think that deeply about it. What started as a hot summer, turned into one of the hottest on record, and on the last day of June it became almost unbearable.

One day, a Monday in particular, the heat had gotten to us, and we both developed a bit of cabin fever. On that same day, we had just finished painting each other's toenails bright pink. I watched her happily as she painted her fingernails to match. Not wanting to venture outside, I could hardly think of anything inside that seemed worth doing. We had gone through all of our usual options. Television, movies, or video games didn't suit us that day. Neither one of us felt like running around the house.

So there we were, sitting in the kitchen. Our bare feet exposed hot pink nails to the world, and she was putting a final coat on her fingernails. I watched her for what seemed like hours. Tiffany had pulled her hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her way. She really did look cute. Her face glowed with a certain innocence and youth. While not much could be said about her body, she had started wearing bras, and showed signs of breast growth. Her legs were a bit skinny, but nice, and again, she had the cutest feet.

"I really want to go swimming," she said.

"I don't have any trunks."

"You never bring any."

"I swear I'll bring them next time," I said. "And besides, you already painted my toenails. I can't go like this."

Tiffany looked down at my hands. "Then at least let me do your fingernails."

I thought about it for a long moment, as I watched her finish her own. I'd always turned her down, but it didn't seem less enjoyable than painting my toenails. If it kept her mind off of going to the pool, then perhaps it would be worthwhile. It could always come off.

"Fine," I said. "And I promise I'll go to the pool with you next time."

"Great! But they need a little more work," she said, getting up to leave the room. "I'll be right back."

After several minutes had gone by, Tiffany returned with a small case. I sort of panicked when she started pulling beauty supplies out of the case, but I knew she wouldn't do anything permanent. First she took my fingers one at a time and trimmed them a little. I honestly didn't care about keeping up with my fingernails, so they'd grown a bit the past few weeks. While I pondered about that, Tiffany had set about filing each nail into an oval, and roughing up the tops.

"I hope you don't mind me doing all of this."

"Whatever takes your mind off of the heat."

Tiffany smiled, and continued to work on my nails. After filing them, she buffed them to make them look smoother. Then she put on a coat of clear polish, which she said was a base coat. I had absolutely no idea what this meant, but she claimed it filled in the rough spots on my nails. When several more minutes had passed, Tiffany had started painting each fingernail bright pink to match my toes. She got up to put her beauty case away between coats, and left me there alone at the table. Finally I heard footsteps on the wood floor behind me.

"I was starting to think you got lost," I said.

A familiar, but unexpected voice rang out behind me. "You know, that really is a good color on you."

I turned quickly in my chair to see Tiffany's sister, who apparently had come home early from her summer job. Tiffany's sister, Kate, was five years older and would be a senior in high school in the upcoming school year. Where Tiffany was cute, Kate was gorgeous. She had long slender legs, a nice pair of breasts, and her face looked like that of a budding model. Something about her being the one to catch me doing something I deemed as close to being forbidden, made me feel even more embarrassed. Tiffany entered the room, and brushed past her.

"We're just messing around," I said.

Kate followed her sister over to the table and sat down between us. "Tiff really did a number on you."

"We got bored," I said, with a bit of nervousness in my voice.

"He wouldn't go to the pool with me," Tiffany said. "So I'm painting his nails." She started another coat as we continued to talk.

Kate laughed lightly. "You two act like this has never been done before."

"Well it's the first time I've done his fingernails," Tiffany said. "Most of the time he won't let me."

"Really?" Kate sat up, and seemed a bit more intrigued. "My boyfriend lets me do it all the time." She gave me a teasing, and somewhat taunting look. "You should be more open."

"I'm open!" I retorted.

"We can't think of anything to do today," Tiffany said.

"Well I planned on working all night," Kate said. "But it was slow and they didn't need me at the restaurant."

"You wanna take us to the mall?"

Kate looked at her sister. "I don't want to go anywhere. It's too hot."

"Let's go check the TV again."

I felt Tiffany's hand wrap around my right wrist. She pulled me from my chair, and we made our way into the living room. We reached the couch, and she pulled me down to sit next to her. Nothing seemed interesting, as she flipped through the channels. It was a bit early, and there were only soap operas and talk shows on. The fun channels all had reruns of shows which ran relentlessly, so most of them were watched hundreds of times.

Kate walked in with some bottled fruit drink. I watched her settle into a chair, which somewhat faced us. She feigned interest in our channel surfing, and even commented on which shows were good or bad. However, she didn't demand we stop on one she would be interested in. I was used to that from my brother. He'd deliberately want to watch something I had no interest in, even though I had been at the television first.

"There is nothing on," Tiffany said. She pressed the power button on the remote, and tossed it to the side.

"Board game?" Kate asked.

"More like bored game," Tiffany said, mocking her sister's suggestion. She gave off one of those disgusted princess sighs, and collapsed on me.

Kate looked at both of us, shaking her head. "I honestly don't know how you two make it through the day."

"I'd rather be bored here," I said. "Than be with my stepfather at home."

Kate gave me a concerned look. "He doesn't hit you or anything, does he?"

"No," I said. "Nothing like that."

"He's just a jerk," Tiffany said.

"How so?" Kate asked.

"He runs me down constantly," I said. "His latest thing is saying I'm too small to be a real man."

"That's awful," Kate said. "I mean, you're small… but you're like twelve."

"I think he's the perfect size," Tiffany said, while patting my chest.

"According to him, I should be more like my brother."

"Your brother?" Kate laughed. "No offense, but your brother can be a jerk sometimes."

"Trust me I know." I put my cheek down on top of Tiffany's head. "I hope he grows out of it. He used to be nice."

"I bet your stepfather would go crazy if he saw you with painted nails," Kate said with a laugh.

"I've been doing his toes for months," Tiffany mumbled. "Hasn't got caught yet."

"Wait," Kate said. "You mean you keep your toenails painted?"

"Yes," I said. "It's sort of a secret thing we do."

"We make them match."

Tiffany slipped her left foot behind my right foot, and lifted it in the air for her sister to see. Kate pushed out of her chair. She walked over to get a closer look. I watched her take Tiffany's ankle in her left hand. Then I felt Kate's right hand around my right ankle. She held our feet up close together, and carefully examined them. After a moment she let us go.

"You two have more in common than toenail color," Kate said. "Your feet almost look identical."

Then it dawned on me. This whole time I had been admiring Tiffany's feet, I had never seen the similarities. Suddenly I knew the reason why I liked her feet so much. We had the same feet. Not only that, but we had other things in common. Tiffany and I were both about the same size. I was only about an inch taller than her.

Here my stepfather nitpicked constantly at sissy aspects of my physique, and now I realized why. I had the body of a twelve year old girl! Did she see all of this in me as well? Was this why she tried to get me interested in girly things? I suddenly became very self-conscience, thinking about all of the months of painting nails and even taking those dumb tests in her magazines.

My mind raced. The whole sixth grade had to listen to a lecture about puberty, and I had gone with the other boys. However, with my condition, I didn't really match up with most of the other boys. I definitely didn't fit with the girls. My mother spent the rest of the night explaining everything to me, but that left me even more confused. Her infamous "some little boys develop faster than other little boys" line didn't quite put my mind at ease.

For some reason, I never had seen myself in either gender role, and I had constant reminders of not fitting in. Kids teased me at school, my stepfather and brother teased me at home, and now I felt my girlfriend had been taunting me with it the entire year. Now her sister saw something different about me too. Kate smiled at me. Something was different about it with these two. Why didn't I hate them for it, like I did the others?

While I thought about all of this, Tiffany held her foot up next to mine. I couldn't help but look at her foot. It seemed almost exactly like mine. As I played a bit of footsy with her, Kate flopped down on the sofa on my other side.

"You know," Kate said. "I wonder…"

"What?" I asked, ready to jump on the offensive.

"Well you wear her nail polish," she said. "Maybe you can wear some of her shoes."

"Maybe," I said.

"Would you like to?" Kate asked.

"Wear her shoes?" I gave her an awkward look. "For what?"

"Just to see if they fit," Kate said. "Maybe some other things."

"I'm curious too," Tiffany said.

"I don't know…"

"It would give us something to do," Tiffany said.

"Indeed," Kate said.

I sat and thought for a moment. When our feet and legs dropped back down again, I suddenly realized how big of an ass I'd been. All month long Tiffany had been begging me to go to the pool with her, but I had kept her from it. It was like I had been keeping her from enjoying her summer. Something about what they wanted to do, made me feel embarrassed and a bit resentful. I may have let it show a little.

"They're just shoes," I mumbled.

"I hope I didn't upset you," Kate said.

"You really didn't say anything hurtful," I said.

Tiffany sat up, and looked at me. "Are you mad?"

"I'm not mad," I said. "What do I have to be mad about?"

"You sound kind of mad," Tiffany said.

"I'm just thinking is all."

Tiffany poked me in the arm a few times. "Thinking about what?"

"I'm thinking I could've gone swimming, and let you have more fun this summer," I said.

"I've had fun," Tiffany said. "You're fun to be with."

"Well…" I glanced at Kate and then faced Tiffany again. "I thought, if it'll be fun for you at least…" She batted her hazel eyes, and I couldn't resist anymore. "I can try it."

Kate faked clearing her throat. "It was my suggestion."

"Can Kate help?" Tiffany asked, looking at me.

"Help me put on shoes?"

"No!" Tiffany jumped from the couch and looked at both of us. "She can do your hair and makeup!"

"What?"

"You said you were open," Kate said with a grin.

Before I could protest, Kate and Tiffany had stood up, and both girls were dragging me down the hallway. We ended up in Tiffany's room. Tiffany sat next to me on the bed, and Kate exited the room, leaving me alone with her. She put her hand in mine and flashed me a smile.

“Are you nervous?"

"I'm kind of embarrassed," I said.

"You don't need to be embarrassed in front of me."

"It's not you so much," I said. "I feel a bit awkward around your sister."

"Because she's older?"

"Well there's that," I said. "But I think she's pretty."

"She is pretty," Tiffany said, with a hint at sadness in her voice.

"Well you are too," I said.

Tiffany blushed. "Thanks."

Kate returned with a small bag. She had changed out of her work uniform, and now had on a yellow t-shirt with short jean shorts. Her tanned legs seemed to go on forever down to her bare feet. Though her toenails weren't painted, her feet were immaculate. I imagined kissing them like I had kissed Tiffany's so many times before. Everything beautiful about Tiffany, had been amplified five times in her sister.

"You can look at me," Kate said. "You don't have to stare at my feet."

My eyes shot up to look at her face. "I…"

"He probably wants to paint your nails," Tiffany said. "He thinks you're pretty."

"Really?" Kate said. "You think I'm pretty?"

I blushed and nodded. "Yes."

"Well maybe you can do my nails later." She walked over and sat next to me on the bed. "Right now I'm going to put a bit of makeup on you."

Kate adjusted herself to where she had one leg up on the bed, and the other hanging over the side. She faced me, and I think purposefully rested her foot against my thigh. For the next several minutes she brushed out my wavy blonde hair. I watched her open up several clips, and felt her place them in various spots around my head. It felt strange getting this much attention from an older girl, and it ended all too quickly.

"He should probably change first," Tiffany said, as she got up and walked to her dresser. "I'd rather makeup get on my clothes than his."

"Probably right," Kate said. "But what's he going to wear?" She looked at me with a smile. "Take your shirt off sweetie."

"I'm sure I can find something," Tiffany said. "Wish we had time for everything."

I did as Kate asked. It felt weird to peel my shirt off in front of an older girl. She fixed a bit of my hair that got messed up in the process. Tiffany came up behind me, and took my shirt. Soon she had me putting on something else over my chest. I soon realized it was one of her bras. My arms went through the straps and then she closed it in the back. Kate helped her adjust the straps on my shoulders.

Tiffany prompted me to stand up. Kate gave a playful tug at my jean shorts. She smiled and gave me a quick wink. I unbuttoned my shorts and unzipped them. Then I felt Tiffany pulling them down, and I released my grip. She helped me step out of them, and I stood before both girls with nothing but underwear on. Tiffany handed a pair of white cotton panties to Kate, who in turn handed them to me. I'll never forget the provocative look she gave me.

"You can step out in the hall if you'd like," Kate said.

"Thank you," I said.

I scurried out into the hallway. Tiffany closed the door behind me, to give some extra privacy. After a quick breath, I dropped my underwear. I stood for a lingering moment with the soft white panties in my hands. Looking down at my bright pink fingernails and toenails, I figured this wouldn't hurt too much, even if I had to wear more. I took a deep breath and stepped into the panties.

"Don't forget to tuck your… you know."

My face turned red as I followed Kate's advice. I thought for sure these things were going to feel different, but I realized they weren't much different than what I had on. However, I felt different. I really couldn't explain it, but they felt better, or at least made me feel better. The two girls beckoning to see me, prompted me slowly, but surely, to come back through the door.

"Too cute," Kate said, still sitting on the bed. She waved me over.

"I can't wait to see the rest," Tiffany said. She seemed gleeful as she took my underwear and put it with the rest of my clothes.

I walked over to Kate. She patted the spot on the bed in front of her. So I got up on the bed, and sat facing her with my legs crossed. After pulling several things out of the bag, she lifted a circular container toward me. It had a mild pinkish red caked powder in it, which she dusted over lightly with a large brush. Then she lifted the brush to my face, and brushed across each cheek with it. I felt the soft bristles tickle my nose for a slight moment. She slapped the container shut and put it to the side.

The next thing she picked up was a square container with a few mixed shades of powder. Kate collected a bit of some light gray on a small brush. She tapped the brush on the container, and lifted it up to my face. I looked at her unknowingly. When she saw my expression, she decided to start explaining about everything.

"This is eye shadow," Kate said. "I need you to close your pretty blue eyes."

I shut my eyes, and felt her move the brush a few times over each lid. She then went back over it a bit lighter, fanning the shadow out to where she wanted it. Her closeness to me, and her light touch, excited me a bit. Even if this stuff had to come off in a few hours, and I never did this again, being this close to Kate seemed worth every second.

"The first thing I put on was blush," Kate said after a moment. "I'm just doing light makeup so it's not too hard to get off." I heard her snap the container shut and open another. "This is some powder to help give you a softer look. You really don't need it with your baby face, but I'm doing it for fun." I felt a large brush go over every inch of my face. "Ok, you can open your eyes."

When my eyes opened, all I could see were Kate's gorgeous green eyes smiling at me. I remember thinking at that moment about how I would kill to have an older sister like her. She always seemed so nice and understanding. Tiffany never complained about fighting with Kate, and I couldn't recall a single time when Kate had been unpleasant. I couldn't stop staring at her, and she had an amused look on her face as she stared right back at me.

"You ok?" she finally asked. "You're not gonna run out of here screaming are you?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I was just thinking it would be cool to have an older sister like you."

"Aw…" Kate gave me a cute sad face. "I think I'm gonna cry."

"That was like the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard," Tiffany said. She had been busying herself by running around the room collecting things for me to try on.

"Anytime you want a big sister, you can come to me."

"Or if you want just a sister," Tiffany said. "I'm here too." She chose this time to come over and sit next to me on the bed.

"Thanks you two," I said. "I feel kind of embarrassed to say it, but I'm actually enjoying this."

"Don't be embarrassed around us." Kate held a tube of lipstick up. "I know it's easy for us to say that, but if this feels good, or even natural to you, then by all means you can talk to us about it."

"I honestly don't know what to think about all of it," I said.

"I think you look kinda cute with makeup," Kate said.

"Not sure his stepfather would agree with you," Tiffany said.

Kate glanced at her, then looked back at me. "You seem to get upset when your stepfather is mentioned."

"I'm just used to being treated a certain way," I said.

"How so?"

"My stepfather constantly is calling me names." I looked down at Kate's bare leg. "Like sissy, girly boy, cupcake, even powder puff." For some reason I couldn't look up at her, like I felt she had hurt me with those words I just said. "He doesn't think I'm turning into his idea of a man."

"I'm sorry," Kate said.

"Me too," Tiffany said.

"Why should you two be sorry?"

"Well…" Tiffany looked down. "I didn't know all of that was going on. I just thought you enjoyed doing certain things."

"To be honest, I really do." I looked at her until she looked up at me. "I like the nail polish, but mostly because it's a secret we share. Then eventually it started to feel good."

"Did we go too far with the makeup and underwear?" Kate asked.

"I don't know anymore," I said. "At first I found it kind of hurtful that you two wanted to do this, but I’m having fun now, or at least I was before this conversation." I gave them a feeble laugh.

"We can still have fun," Tiffany said. "And we can always stop talking about your family." A slight laugh followed. "If it's too much though…"

"Tell us if it's too much, and we'll stop," Kate said.

I shook my head. "That aside, this isn't horrible."

"Have you ever thought of dressing up, or going places as a girl?" Kate asked.

"I don't know…"

"I'm not asking because I'm gonna make you," she said. "I'm just curious."

"I'm afraid of getting caught," I said. "It's fine here, but what if word got out…"

"You're probably right," Tiffany said. "Would hate for someone your parents know to see you like this."

"If at any time you want to do this," Kate said. "I suggest you stay inside."

"Agreed!" Tiffany said. "But you're gonna need a girl's name."

"She's right," Kate said. "Zach just doesn't work both ways."

"How about Missy?" Tiffany asked.

"That sounds too much like someone's mad at me," I said. "Like look here missy."

"I always liked Bailey," Kate said.

"I kind of like that too," Tiffany said.

"Then Bailey it is," I said with a smile.

"Well then Bailey," Kate said. "I'm going to show you how to apply lipstick."

Kate held the tube of lipstick up, and pulled the cap from the top. I watched her twist the tube until the lipstick spiraled up from it. Then she spread it slowly across her upper lip, and put a liberal amount on her lower lip. She squeezed her lips together and moved them back and forth. When she ended the process, her lips were coated in a hot pink color.

"This is the closest one I had to match your nails," Kate said.

She then pulled up a tissue, put it between her lips and blotted them. Afterwards she put on another coat, repeating the same process as before. When she had finished she gestured for Tiffany to come closer. Tiffany crawled around me and sat adjacent to Kate and I. Kate took the lipstick and applied it to her sister's lips. Then handed her a tissue to blot, and reapplied another coat. Seeming satisfied at the results, Kate then handed the lipstick to me.

"Here's a mirror if you need it," Tiffany said, holding up one of the small circular containers.

I took the lipstick in my right hand, and what I later learned was called a compact in the other hand. For the first time since this all started, I got a glimpse of my makeup and hair in the mirror. Some part of me expected a comical look from two girls having fun, but I was pleased with what I saw. Kate had really done a nice job on the makeup and hair, and made me look like a young little lady.

I moved the mirror down so I could see my lips, and held the lipstick up. While I tried my best to emulate what Kate had shown me, Kate had set about applying my same look to Tiffany. The blush gave her rosy cheeks, and the gray eye shadow on Tiffany made her pretty hazel eyes look amazing. By the time I was ready to blot my lips, Kate had brought out Tiffany's eyes even more with some eyeliner.

I worked on my second coat of lipstick, and watched Kate give Tiffany thicker lashes with some mascara. Then she filled in her eyebrows with a pencil, making them a little more pronounced. When Kate had finished, Tiffany looked several years older. The transformation seemed amazing to me, and I couldn't help but stare.

"Would you like me to do that to you too?" Kate asked.

I nodded silently.

Kate took my chin and gently turned my head to face her. "You'll have to hold still." She held up the eyeliner. "Keep your eyes open, and look up."

I did as she asked, and soon felt her carefully penciling in eyeliner on the edge of my eyelids. When she finished with one eye, she let me blink a few times, and then applied eyeliner to the other eye. Kate took her time with the process, being very careful around my eye. She waited a few moments after she finished, to let me get used to having control of my eyes back. While I did this, she filled in my eyebrows with light gentle strokes from a pencil.

"Now keep facing me, but look down at all of our pretty feet," Kate said. "Try not to get too excited."

"He's blushing," Tiffany said with a giggle.

"Because he likes feet," Kate said. "At least pretty feminine feet."

Indeed I was blushing. Once it was pointed out, I couldn't stop blushing. Tiffany scooted back, and put her feet in my lap. The entire time Kate put mascara on my lashes, Tiffany wiggled her toes under my gaze. Kate had pointed out something which I had probably been in denial about for a long time. I think I did like girl's feet.

"I do tend to notice girl's feet a lot," I admitted.

"Of course you do sweetie," Kate said. "It's only natural." She closed the mascara and put it aside. "It explains why you like to paint Tiff's nails, and probably why you wanted her to paint yours." She used her finger to blend the pencil into my eyebrows. "You wanted to copy her somehow, and now…" Kate turned my head to face Tiffany. "You match."

"He…" Tiffany said. "I mean… she, is so cute."

"You're cute too," I said. "And you even look older."

"Yeah, you both do," Kate said. "But you're both missing something."

Kate removed herself from the bed and walked over to the dresser. When she came back, she had several socks with her. She rolled up a couple into a ball, and pulled my bra forward to stuff it in on one side. Then she rolled up two more socks and put it in the other side of the bra.

Tiffany clambered forward, nearly ending up sitting in my lap. She quickly peeled her shirt off. Kate shook her head at her sister's audacity to take her shirt off in front of me, but rolled up some more socks for her. Tiffany put them in her bra and fidgeted with them, while Kate fidgeted with mine. Before long, both Tiffany and I had a set of breasts comparable to a girl Kate's age.

"And there we have Bailey," Kate said.

"We're sisters!" Tiffany said, throwing her arms around me in a big hug.

Kate walked back to the dresser and pulled out some navy blue tights. She tossed them to Tiffany. Then I saw Kate pull out another pair of white tights. Tiffany pushed herself off of the bed, and pulled her white knit shorts off. I watched her for a moment start to put on the tights, until Kate blocked my view.

She pulled at my legs until I let them hang over the side of the bed. Then she gathered the material in a bunch on one leg, and stooped down to slip it over my left foot. After repeating the process on my right foot, Kate began to work the stretchy material up my legs. She had me stand when she reached my knees, and continued to pull the tights up to my waist. I'd never had any sort of form-fitting clothing on my entire lower body before, and it felt strange. With Kate being the one to put them on, it also felt a bit embarrassing, but the experience wasn't altogether unpleasant.

When Kate finished putting the tights on me, she stood and went to the closet. This left Tiffany and I staring at each other. She flashed me a pleasant smile, and I couldn't help but return one of my own. Then a bit of awkward silence filled the air as Kate rummaged through the closet. Tiffany looked almost as pretty as her sister, and almost the same age.

Most boys would kill to see a girl in their underwear, whether they were older or not. However, I didn't feel the same about it as other boys would have. Tiffany was my girlfriend, but to a sixth grader that really didn't mean what it would for older people. I had kissed her a few times on the lips, and hugged her, but really those were the only two things we had above and beyond being good friends. In fact, we had long stretches of time where we were just close best friends. That day in particular, I felt more like her brother, or sister, than her boyfriend.

Kate moved away from the closet, and handed us both a white, short sleeve Peter Pan blouse. Tiffany put the shirt on, and took a moment to admire how her new "breasts" looked in it. I watched her for a minute as I slipped my arms through the somewhat puffy sleeves. The ends of the sleeves rested about an inch above the middle of my upper arm. My eyes trailed away from Tiffany's body, and down to the buttons of the blouse. I wasn't used to the buttons being on the other side, and I had to look at what I was doing.

By the time I had finished buttoning the blouse, Tiffany had already put on a pleated, dark red and navy blue plaid miniskirt. Kate came over to me, and stooped down. She held a pale blue miniskirt in her hands. I remember it being ultra feminine in design. It had a lacey, almost crochet hemline, and a white band across the waistline. When she helped me step into it, and started to pull it up my legs, I could tell it consisted of a light weight summery material.

"That's one of my favorite skirts," Tiffany said. "But I only get to wear it for special occasions." She walked over to us, and handed Kate a pair of white dress sandals.

"Well now Bailey gets to wear it for a special occasion," Kate said, smiling at me.

While Kate helped me into the open-toe sandals, and strapped them on my feet, Tiffany came over and put some clip-on earrings on my ears. She wasn't allowed to get her ears pierced until high school, so she had quite a selection. These were simple little light blue hoops, which matched perfectly with the skirt. I imagined she wore them with it all the time.

Kate finished putting the sandals on my feet, and I could make out my pink toenails under the white tights. I instantly went from five foot nothing, to being two inches taller, and felt like I was looking down on Tiffany. It was short-lived, however, as Kate brought out a pair of dark red Mary Jane heels for her sister. They had a three inch heel on them. So when she stepped into them, we were the same height. When Kate stood up, we found we were merely three inches away from being as tall as her.

"You girls look adorable," Kate said. "You have to let me take some pictures."

"Can we do like a catalog?" Tiffany asked. "With poses and different outfits."

"That sounds fun," Kate said. "I'll get my camera." She paused to look at me. "If it's ok with Bailey that is?"

"I'm fine with it," I said. "As long as it never leaves this house."

"Agreed!" Kate said, and left the room.

"This will be fun!" Tiffany said, gushing with enthusiasm. "You go on into the living room, and I'll get some outfits together."

I took a few careful steps to get used to the heels, and proceeded from her room toward the living room. When I passed Kate's room, she seemed busy trying to get her digital camera and a few other things together. She didn't notice me, so I kept walking down the hallway. Eventually I ended up in the living room alone. I stood there awkwardly until Kate came to join me.

"I thought we could do a few solo shots," Kate said. "Why don't you step over to chair and sit first?"

Following her advice, I moved over to the chair. She demonstrated for me to smooth my skirt out before I sat, and I tried my best to adhere to what she showed me. Kate moved about me, having me sit up straighter, and on the edge of the chair. She had me put my knees together, and cross one foot behind the other. Then she fussed with my hair, told me to put my hands in my lap, and lastly told me to smile.

Kate snapped several photos of me in the chair, and then had me stand. Tiffany came in with an armful of clothing, and went back for more. While she was gone, Kate took several more pictures of me. She adjusted my pose on numerous occasions, and had me stand in various spots. Tiffany came back with a few more garments, most of her sock drawer, and I think every pair of shoes she owned.

"Ok, take a break," Kate said, turning to leave the room. "I'll be back to take shots of the two of you together."

"Are you having fun Bailey?" Tiffany asked.

"At first I thought I'd hate it," I said. "But so far I'm having a blast."

Kate came back with her camera. Soon she had me posing with Tiffany like we were catalog models. She had us do funny poses like Tiffany was telling me a secret, or another time Kate had her kiss me on the cheek and I acted surprised. We changed outfits at one point, and I exchanged my skirt for a black jumper, and my white sandals for black penny loafers. Tiffany changed from her outfit into a dark red dress, still dawning the navy blue tights and dark red Mary Jane heels. She was taller than me for the next few pictures.

After a few more shots, Kate had to go empty her camera again onto her computer. These were the days before memory sticks started popping up for everything, and Kate had spent her own money on it, wanting to be a photographer later in life. As a twelve year old kid, I thought she was pretty good. Then again, I was also completely infatuated with her after today's events.

While Kate was in the other room, Tiffany had me do another wardrobe change. I put on a pair of rose colored jeans and some lacy white socks with a pair of white sneakers. She had me keep the same top on, because she thought it went well with the outfit. Tiffany put on blue jeans with a glittery design of butterflies going up the outside of her right leg. A green no sleeve top, and black ballet flats finished off the look. She had kept the navy blue tights on underneath the jeans.

Kate came back and seemed impressed with the new outfits. She snapped several shots of us in various poses, then sat and waited for us to change yet again. Tiffany kept her green shirt on, but lost the jeans and shoes. She put a simple white cotton skirt on and stole the white sneakers from me to complete her outfit. I started to take my jeans off, and Kate stepped over to me.

"I think Bailey should keep this shirt on still, but go back to skirts," Kate said.

"He can wear my original skirt," Tiffany said.

She handed me the plaid skirt she had on with her first outfit, and I took it in my hands. Kate retrieved a pair of black Mary Jane flats for me, while I stepped into the skirt. When I had pulled it up, and was busy fastening the buttons on it, Kate stooped down and helped me step into the shoes. Then she stood back up and again started taking more pictures.

Kate only took a few pictures of us in these outfits, but decided she wanted us to try something more summery. So Tiffany took off her entire outfit, and put on short jean shorts and a yellow t-shirt. She finished the outfit with a pair of yellow flip-flops. My "summery" outfit consisted of a short black skirt and a white top with a blue butterfly across the bust line. I again finished the outfit with Tiffany's black ballet flats. Kate seemed to like both outfits, and finished out her memory on the camera with several pictures.

While Kate went back to unload her camera again, Tiffany handed me some light pink tights and the white skirt from her previous outfit. As I busied myself with putting these two items on, Tiffany changed into red tights, and used the black skirt I was wearing. She finished her outfit with a red tank top and stole back her black ballet flats.

When Tiffany had finished, she helped me into a light pink sweater over the top I had on, and had me step into the white sandals from my first outfit. Kate entered the room and again approved of the wardrobe selections. She snapped about twenty more pictures of us, until she grew bored by the same background.

"The living room is getting a bit boring," Kate said.

"We could try the backyard," Tiffany said. "Unless Bailey doesn't want to."

"I'm fine with it," I said.

"Well great," Kate said. "But I suggest you two find something to wear that won't make you catch on fire out there."

Tiffany and I laughed. We kicked off our shoes and started shedding our tights. I pulled the sweater off over my head. Kate handed me a hot pink t-shirt, and I replaced the top I had on with it. By the time I had finished, Kate was holding a black tiered skirt for me to step into. I stepped into it while Tiffany kicked over her black ballet flats to me. Once again, I slipped my feet into the flats to complete my outfit.

I watched Tiffany put on a pale pink sleeveless top, and the same white skirt we'd both worn in previous outfits. She put on a pair of white ankle socks and slipped her white sneakers onto her feet. Kate fixed our hair a bit, and messed with the outfits. When she was satisfied with how we looked, she told us to go on out while she got some shoes.

When you're younger, things like heat and humidity might slow you down a bit outside, but for some reason they never really kept you from venturing outside. Sure, some days no kid in their right mind would want to run around in weather nearing triple digits, but on that day both Tiffany and I forgot completely about it. We were both too excited to be playing our little game, that we took the abuse in stride.

I remember spending what seemed like hours out in the summer sun that day. Tiffany and I posed in about a thousand different poses, and Kate must have shot more than double that in pictures. She went in several times to unload the pictures onto her computer, and would return to take more.

During maybe her fifth return trip, we all started getting a little rowdy. I remember Tiffany saying something to the effect that I made a better girl than a boy. It was said in jest, but I ended up chasing her around the yard. Kate took pictures of us the entire time. Eventually our chasing each other ended up in the side yard, and concluded in the front. That's when things got extremely bad for me.

My stepfather's car was parked in the driveway, and my brother stood at the front door. Apparently he had been waiting on someone to answer the door, but none of us heard it from the backyard. At first Justin didn’t recognize me, but then his mouth dropped when he saw Tiffany chasing me. Kate had caught up with us at about the time my stepfather exited the car. His hands slammed down on the top of the old 1988 Chevy Caprice.

"What the hell are you doing?" my stepfather said, a little louder than needed. "I've been sitting out here waiting for you, and you're running around in skirts?"

Justin glanced at Kate, and then looked away from us all. He walked back down the steps toward the car. I imagine he had a thing for Kate, but he never said anything about her. They really never talked to each other, aside from him dropping me off on occasion and her being home. Kate had said he came in to eat sometimes where she worked, but seemed absorbed with his newfound football buddies. My stepfather's voice rang out again only a bit angrier this time.

"Get your ass in the car!"

"But my things are inside," I stammered.

"I don't give a damn," Tom said. "You get your ass in the car. I told you we had things to do today, as soon as I picked up your brother from practice."

"But these are Tiffany's clothes."

"You can give them back to her later. I'm not going to ask you again."

I watched Justin turn and give me a knowing look, which I understood to mean something along the lines of getting my butt spanked when I got home. If I dragged this out any further it would be worse for me. When I turned to look at Tiffany and Kate, they had a look on their faces like they had just ruined my life. I figured whatever happened couldn't be that bad. It might bring some sort of punishment, and even more berating comments from my stepfather, but it wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I'm sorry Tiffany," I said. "I have to go."

"I hope you'll be okay," Tiffany said.

"Don't try my patience, Zachary," Tom said. "You got ten seconds."

"You better go," Kate said.

"Don't worry about the clothes," Tiffany said. "We'll deal with it later."

Tiffany gave me a tight hug, and a kiss on the lips. Kate gave me a nervous smile, trying to make it all seem not so bad. Then I turned and walked down the short hill to my stepfather's car. He shook his head at me, and my head dropped. I waited for him to get back in the car. Justin reached over and opened the back door for me. This surprised me and I looked at him with a questioning look upon my face.

"Just holding the door for the lady," he said in a sarcastic tone.

"Shut up Justin."

Tom leaned over to the passenger window. "Both of you get in the car. Now!"

It didn't take long for my stepfather to pull out of the driveway, once my brother and I were both in. I waved to Tiffany and Kate, before dropping my head back down to look at my borrowed skirt. For a few blocks there was silence, save for the air conditioner blowing on full. Justin stared out the side window.

"What the hell are you doing dressed as a girl?" Tom finally asked.

"We were bored, and they convinced me to play dress up," I said.

"I really don't get you kids today," he said. "All of you city boys are sissified, and don't know a damn thing about what it means to be a man." He looked at Justin. "At least your brother's doing something manly in his spare time."

"We were just goofing around," I said.

"Well couldn't you find something else to do besides letting them dress you up like a sissy queer?" He looked at me in the rearview mirror. "I mean hell, we have to go to the hardware store and my faggot stepson is dressed like a little girl."

"I'm not gay," I said with some anger.

"You sure as hell could fool me then!" He shook his head. "I told you we had to fix the dishwasher today." He looked at my brother. "Hell… we could just have little sissy prissy pants back there wash them instead."

I stared out my window while the inside of the car erupted in laughter. Several degrading comments followed, both from my stepfather, and from my brother chiming in. By the time we reached the hardware store, I'd heard about every insult imaginable. It finally ended when we pulled into the parking spot, and my stepfather turned off the car. He turned to where he could see both of us.

"I can't have you going in there like that," he said. "People in there know me."

"I'll just sit out here then," I said.

"Like hell you are." He reached into his back pocket and got out his wallet. "Since you want to dress like a little girl, I thought of a good punishment for you." He handed me a twenty dollar bill. "Go next door to Wal-Mart and get yourself some panties."

My brother snickered in the front seat. I looked at my stepfather. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," he said. "Get enough for a week or two."

I took the money from him. A look of trepidation spread across my face. "Do I have to?"

"Yes you do," he said. "You want to dress like a little girl, you're going to start wearing panties. Now get going. We'll meet you back here."

I shook my head, but this seemed to make him angry. For a moment I thought if I made a scene he would just drag my butt home and ground me. He sat there staring at me, but I didn't want to look at him. It was moments like this one I really loathed the man. If I didn't do what he said, I knew I'd pay for it later.

"Justin go on in to the hardware store."

My brother didn't argue. He exited the car and left me alone with our stepfather. I felt like he had abandoned me. His car door slamming shut seemed like him shutting me out of his life. It occurred to me at that moment, that I really didn't know my brother anymore. Kate had been right about him, but I still hoped he would change.

"I can't buy panties," I said, but I was met with silence. "Please don't make me."

"You better make sure they're your size, or I'll be bringing you back to exchange them."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"To make damn sure you remember this moment to never do this again."

"I won't do it again," I said. "We were just goofing around this one time."

"Well your one time bought you the rest of the summer in panties," he said. "And since you're being so damn stubborn, get yourself some pink nail polish to go with them."

"But I promise I won't do it again."

"I'm really losing my patience with you," he said. "You have less than a minute to get your sissy ass out of this car."

I reached for the handle of the car door. My eyes pleaded with my stepfather. He gave me a stern look that showed he wanted me to get going. So I did. I pulled on the handle, and pushed the car door open. Since I didn't have any pockets, I clinched my fist tightly around the money as I slammed the car door behind me. As I stormed towards the front doors of Wal-Mart, I could hear my stepfather exiting the car.

My mind drifted to the point in time where I held Tiffany's panties in my hands. I had stared at them for a long time before putting them on, and I tried to recall what the tag said. Since this was all new to me, I had no idea about styles or any of that, but I remember the tag saying medium with a seven, a slash, and an eight. Little did I know that this would be the first of many times I would be confused about female sizes. They all seemed Greek to me.

This wasn't all that confused me. When I reached the women's section of clothing, they had three different areas. I didn't have a clue what the difference was with women's and misses. Based solely on the assumption that Tiffany wasn't a misses size yet, I chose to go to the girl's section. My choice was rewarded, because the first thing I laid eyes on was a package that said "Medium 7/8" on the top. It had an assortment of different panties, twelve in all, and they were bikini style.

I took the find as a sign they were set aside for me, and gathered the package in my hand. It really didn't matter to me what style or even brand they were. I just wanted to get the hell out of there fast. The only problem with that, was that I wasn't done with my list. Surprisingly the panties were only eight dollars, so I had about that much to spend on the other item.

After a somewhat long walk across the store, I found myself in the cosmetics department. Specifically I had ended up on the nail polish aisle. I looked at the light pinks, thinking maybe I could pull one over on my stepfather, and make the polish barely noticeable. However, his threat of bringing me back to exchange stuff made me rethink that notion. If I had to wear it the rest of the summer, I might as well have some fun with it. I decided to get a few shades.

The first one I chose was the lightest pink they had, almost a match to natural, in hopes he would let me get away with it. Then I picked out a bright hot pink, almost neon, thinking he'd make me come back and get it anyway. I looked in the bargain bin and picked out two shades of Bon Bons, one in an in between shade of pink of the two I had, and another in a light lavender. For some reason I thought I may want to mix it up some.

When I got to the checkout line, I was so pissed thinking about my stepfather, that I became determined to spend the entire twenty dollars. I picked up some bubble gum at the counter, which brought my total to within ten cents of my goal. The gum inadvertently would start me down a long habitual path of obsessive chewing, but for the time being it satisfied me to spend all of his money.

Without much fuss, and with no second guesses from the cashier, I paid for everything and took off for the exit. I dropped the dime of change I got in some sort of charity box, and continued out into the parking lot. My stepfather and brother were still in the hardware store, so I went to the car and waited by it. For several minutes I stood by the car, under the hot summer sun. He had locked the doors, so I couldn't even get in. I made the best out of the situation and pulled out a piece of gum to chew on while I waited.

Eventually the two of them came out of the hardware store. They walked over to the car, and without a word my stepfather got inside. He unlocked Justin's door, and Justin unlocked my door and let me in. I got in, put my bag in the seat next to me, and buckled up. We sat for a moment after my stepfather started the car, to let the air kick in a bit. Justin was completely silent, and it was my stepfather who broke the silence first.

"Did you bring me back change?"

"I didn't have any," I said. "It was all pretty expensive."

"You went in for two things," he said in disbelief. "How'd you spend a twenty?" He turned to look at me.

"Well…" I said timidly. "My panties were almost ten." I was interrupted by my brother laughing at my last statement. "Shut up Justin!" I kicked at his seat.

My stepfather slapped the back of my brother's head. "You keep laughing at your brother, and you'll be getting your own." He turned back to me. "What about the rest?"

"I didn't know what kind of pink polish you wanted me to get," I said. "So I got a few shades…" I looked at him with a bit of sadness in my eyes. "I didn't want to go back."

"Well I'm still pissed you spent it all," he said, turning back around. "I'm glad you had enough to get yourself some damn gum."

"It was only fifty cents," I said, defending my purchase.

"Remember that when you want your allowance next week."

I sat back in a huff, and folded my arms across my chest. For the entire rest of the car ride home, I stared out the side window and didn't say a word. Justin and my stepfather talked about football, and how great Justin's practices were going. This met with my stepfather making a comment that maybe I should be a cheerleader. I ignored them after that, for the most part, but caught a confession from my brother about how he thought Kate was hot. In more ways than one, I feared what would happen when we got home. Not only that, but I feared what the rest of the summer would be like.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 2

I was amazed at how one innocent afternoon of fun could put my stepfather, Tom, back on my case about being a sissy. Not only did he begin his berating comments again, but now he pressed the issue until it became a burden. I followed him and my brother, Justin, into our small house, stopping at the middle entryway area of our split level stairs to close the front door behind me. Part of me expected my stepfather to start slapping me around, though he had never done anything beyond a firm spanking. The other part of me feared the dynamic changing in my relationship with all parties involved.

For a moment I stood and watched Tom and Justin walk up the stairs to the living room. The air condition vent next to me blew my borrowed black tiered skirt around. I had been caught by my stepfather and Justin at my girlfriend Tiffany's house, playing dress up in her clothes. It was her skirt that swayed atop my bare and hairless legs. I stood in her black ballet flats and her hot pink t-shirt. Everything on me was hers, from the makeup and hot pink nail polish, to the matching white cotton panties and training bra I had on underneath.

All of the attire would have been agreeable to my stepfather, had it not been on a twelve year old boy. It had all started as a game with Tiffany, but turned out to be the beginning of a long punishment from my stepfather. The punishment began with the contents of the bag in my hand. They were things he forced me to buy.

When he started thinking up my punishment, he had me purchase my own panties. I bought an assorted pack of twelve, so I had thirteen in all with Tiffany's pair. He also had me purchase my own nail polish, which he claimed I would be wearing for the duration of the summer along with my new panties. I started to think of how I could live out the next two months, when I noticed my stepfather turning to face me at the top of the stairs.

"I don't want you changing before your mother gets home," he said. "She needs to see this."

"Well I can't help with fixing the dishwasher in these," I said. "I'll ruin Tiffany's clothes."

"Like I need a woman's help to fix something." Tom said. "Why don't you go wash your new panties?"

I knew it was a rhetorical question. Tom laughed as he turned to head into the kitchen. My brother walked back through as I was climbing the stairs. He looked at me with a confused smirk, and shook his head. It was one of those you're-up-shit-creek-without-a-scented-paddle looks. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, my brother and stepfather were busy at work in the kitchen. I started to head back to my room when I heard my stepfather yell.

"If you change your clothes I'll beat your ass to where you can't sit for a week."

I continued on down the hall to my room. Over the years I had learned not to take my stepfather's threats lightly. So I decided to do exactly what he suggested. I took the package of panties out of the bag, and tossed the rest of my purchase gently onto my bed. When I picked up the panties from the store, I was so nervous that I hardly looked at what was in the package. Faced now with ample time to investigate what I bought, I ripped the package open and spilled the contents onto my bed spread.

My eyes beheld the vibrant colors before me. Two pairs each of plain white and light pink, were quickly cast to the side. I held a red pair for a few seconds, running my fingers over the material. Though they all were one hundred percent cotton, they felt lighter and silkier than my plain old male briefs. They also had a bit of a lace design on the waistband. I tossed the red pair, along with a darker pink pair, on top of the white and light pink pile. Then I moved a pair of peach and a pair of lavender to the solids pile.

The other four pairs of panties consisted of an array of different patterns. One pair was royal blue and teal in horizontal stripes about an inch wide. Another pair was white with multicolored pencil thin horizontal stripes. There was a pair of light blue ones with light pink flowers all over them. The final pair were white with pink and lavender dots. I picked these up to read the instructions for washing them.

While I read the tag, it became increasingly obvious that I would have to hand wash each pair. Even though they said machine wash was okay, none of them really had like colors except for the dual pairs. I figured I could wash the whites with the pair of Tiffany's I was wearing, but the rest were gonna take a bit of time. At least I would have time to think of what I would say to my mother. Not to mention I would be alone, away from my stepfather and brother.

A few minutes later I was in the bathroom with my arms full of panties. I turned the water on at the sink, and quickly cleaned the basin. Then I switched the water over to cold, plugged the drain, and added some Woolite to the running water. I decided to put the red and dark pink pair in first, and let them soak.

While the first pairs soaked, I stared at myself in the mirror. Kate, Tiffany's older sister, had done an awesome job with my makeup. I looked about three years older, perhaps four. At any rate, I didn't look like someone about to start junior high, but someone well into high school. Not only that, but I looked extremely feminine. I really hadn't taken in the entire effect at Tiffany's house, as we had been having too much fun.

My almond shaped eyes seemed bigger, and their steely blue color really exploded beneath the smoky gray eye shadow. She had made my already thin eyebrows appear to taper off at the outer edges with the makeup pencil she used. My lips, which had always been a bit on the pouty side, appeared filled out more, and the natural bow shape I had on top looked more pronounced. Even my small bell-shaped nose looked different with blush on it. Combined with the blush on my cheeks I looked a bit flushed, almost blushing. The makeup and powder, she put on the rest of my face, made my face appear smooth.

I turned my face a bit. The clips Kate had put in my hair glittered in the light. Where she had placed them, turned my otherwise boring chin length hair, into something flirty and fun. My wavy hair fell in various spots all over, while it was lifted in other spots to give a bit of a layered look. Somehow my hair, along with the makeup, tricked my eyes into thinking my slightly square jaw line had been rounded out a tad.

Something about the way I looked and felt at that moment seemed right, but an overwhelming sense of trepidation came over me when I thought about what my entire punishment would be. My eyes dropped back down to look at my new panties soaking in the sink. These could be just the start. I felt certain that Tom had it in for me.

After watching the tiny bubbles pop and disappear for a few minutes, I reached down and pulled the plug from the drain. As the water ran out of the sink, I recalled the way my mom dried her own delicates. I reached under the sink and got an old dark brown towel out. I spread the towel out on the front of the sink. Then I rinsed both pairs of panties with cold water, until I felt the detergent had been sufficiently washed out.

I gave both pairs a gentle squeeze and set them on the towel. Next I rinsed the sink basin a bit, and plugged the drain back up, being sure to add some more Woolite. I decided to put the light blue with flowers in with the blue and teal striped pair, and then added the lavender pair in, thinking those would be ok to wash with them. While the sink filled, I busied myself by rolling the red and dark pink pairs up in the towel. I turned the water off, and then gave the towel a gentle twist, leaving the first two pair to dry a bit, and the next load to soak, as I left the bathroom.

When I sneaked down the hall a bit, to check where my stepfather was, I overheard him talking to my brother about me. He mentioned something to the effect of my brother keeping an eye on me, and to tell him if I ever dressed in girl's things again. Great! Now I'd have that to worry about. It was bad enough we both had to worry about all his low-life buddies telling Tom when Justin and I did something wrong. I felt like I had no privacy even running around with my friends.

I walked back down the hallway to my room. There I picked up my bag from Wal-Mart, and pulled out all the nail polish I bought. My stepfather's punishment wouldn't be absolutely horrible, as I kind of enjoyed painting my nails. However, his promise to make me have them painted all the time, didn't sit well at all. It would be okay around Tiffany, if I ever got to see her again, but around my male friends was a different story. I carefully placed each bottle of nail polish on my dresser.

I pulled out my gum from the bag, and realized the gum in my mouth had lost all flavor. I spit it into the bag. Then I opened up another piece and put it into my mouth. Chomping into a fresh piece of strawberry bubble gum felt relaxing. I tossed the package up on my dresser, and tossed the wrapper in my bag. I wadded the bag up, pretending it was my stepfather's head, before tossing it into the garbage can on the way to check on my panties.

It took some getting used to, thinking about the panties being mine. At the time I bought them, I thought it would be a horrible punishment to wear panties for two months. However, the more I thought about it, the weirder it seemed that my stepfather had me purchase panties. If anything he would cut girly attire out completely as punishment, if he thought I was wearing it on purpose. I shook it all out of my head as I stepped into the bathroom.

My reflection in the mirror still shocked me. I was a pretty little lady, so far removed from the cute little boy. At least my mother always referred to me as the latter. Tiffany thought I was cute, and though I didn't have any self-esteem issues, I didn't think I was ruggedly handsome like all the other boys. Even Kate thought I was cute, but did they both think of me as cute in the effeminate way? That to me was the million dollar question. It was a question I didn't have an answer for at that time in my life.

I unrolled the old brown towel on the countertop, and removed my first two pair of panties. I set them aside. Then I pulled the plug from the drain, and rinsed the next three pairs out. Again, I gave them a quick squeeze, and placed them in the towel. Next I rinsed the sink again, and filled it for the last load of light colors. As the sink filled up, I rolled the panties in the towel, and gave it a gentle twist. Before leaving the room, I put the two light pink pairs in with the peach pair, and added the multi colored striped pair and pair with the dots.

After turning the water off, I exited the bathroom with my five clean pairs. I went to our small laundry room, and set them on the counter in there. While I was looking around for clothespins to hang them to dry, I heard my mother coming in the front door. She was a little late getting home, but way too early in my mind. I heard her not so subtle, but soothing, voice carry up the stairs.

"I need Zach or Justin to come help with the groceries."

"Zach go help your mom," my stepfather's voice came from the kitchen.

What a bastard! I was hoping for a subtle sit-down-and-bring-me-in type reveal, but now Tom had forced me into a shock and awe approach. I'd been so busy with laundry that I hadn't even formulated my side of the story in my head. What on earth would I say to her? I thought I better give her a little warning, something subtle. However, Tom took even that away from me, as he exited the kitchen and his next comment rang down the stairs.

"Your son wants to show you what he's been up to today."

I finished hanging my panties on the small clothesline. For a split second I thought about wrapping the plastic-coated wire around my stepfather's neck and holding on for the ride. Hell, who was I kidding? I wasn't a killer. He'd probably kill me first. When I stepped out of the laundry room, Tom was waiting at the end of the hall. He wiped his hands on a rag, as he stood near the top of the stairs. Maybe I could run and push him…

"Well go on and show her," Tom said. He looked down at my mother. "I don't think you can even guess this one Sue."

"What is it now?" my mother asked.

Tom turned to go back into the kitchen. I slowly walked down the hallway toward the corner. Right before I turned the corner, I took a long breath. When I stepped out of the hallway, and looked down the stairs, my mother's face changed about three times. At first she laughed, but quickly covered her mouth. Then she got this confused look on her face, like she was questioning every question she ever had about me. Her last look was just a subtle eyebrow raise with shake of her head.

"Looks like we have something to talk about," my mother said.

"It was Tiffany and Kate…" I looked behind me to see if Tom was there, and then looked back at my mom. "We were just goofing around, and Tom came by…"

My mother smiled, still shaking her head. "Well come on down and get the groceries out of the car." She started to walk up the stairs. "I'll have a look at you when you're done."

She put her keys in my hand, and brushed by me into the kitchen. I walked slowly down the stairs, and went outside to get the groceries. When I got outside, our nosey neighbor across the street had about twenty double-takes on my appearance. I quickly opened the trunk of her car, and grabbed the three bags inside. I heard the footsteps of someone coming down the sidewalk, and struggled to close the trunk with all three bags in my arms.

"You need some help miss?"

I turned partially to see a young man walking over to help me. He got over to me right before I dropped a bag of groceries all over the driveway. While I situated the other two bags in my arm, he held the third and closed the trunk for me. Now I had never taken interest in how guys looked, but this guy didn't look bad at all.

He had short dark hair, about an inch or two on top, which I couldn't tell if it was black or dark brown in the dusky light. His evenly spaced eyes were an absolutely gorgeous shade of chocolate brown. Not to mention he seemed pretty fit. He probably played some sport, most likely in high school by the looks of it.

"You got it?"

"Yeah," I said, having to shake myself out of staring at him. "Thanks."

"Not a problem. I'm Nathan Riley." He held his hand out, and I shook it with the two free fingers I had left. He smiled at this, and his smile seemed perfect. "I just moved in down on the corner."

"Well it's nice to meet you," I said, as I took the third bag from him. "I'm Bailey." I thought I had better give my girl name so as not to confuse the poor boy. Then I thought he might expect to see me again, and quickly cooked up a cover story. "I don't live here. I'm just visiting my cousins."

"Oh," Nathan said. "Well nice to meet you. Glad I could help you out there." He flashed his gorgeous smile again. "Seems you were struggling a bit."

"Thanks again."

"You take care," he said, as he took off jogging down the street.

My heart was fluttering as I closed the door to the house. I didn't know if I was having a panic attack, or it was purely nervous tension. After gathering myself a bit, I proceeded up the stairs with the groceries. As I neared the kitchen, I could hear my mom and stepfather talking about my situation. I didn't like what I was hearing either.

"The panties are one thing, but you can't just make him go around with painted nails for two months,” my mother said. "What will his friends think?"

"Maybe it'll make him think," my stepfather replied. "I've tried my damnedest to get that kid to take on some manly responsibilities, but it's obviously not working."

"The kid is twelve Tom. He's just having fun with his girlfriend. What's the harm in that?"

"He needs to learn that certain things in life have consequences."

"Maybe if you'd quit running him down," my mother said. "You act like this is proof, or some reflection on all those degrading things you've been saying about him from the start."

"Well it sure as hell doesn't contradict what I think!"

"I used to dress up my little brother all the time in my things. It's just something girls do when they're bored, and to be quite honest, the boys are usually bored enough to go along with it."

"He can find something else to do if he's bored," Tom said. "I dish out twenty dollars a month for these kids to have an allowance. You would think they could use the damn money to find something entertaining to do."

"You honestly think your so called solution, is going to fix a problem?" my mother asked. "He probably doesn't even have a problem."

"Just let me handle this one," Tom said. "I think I've got it under control."

"Fine…" my mother said, "but you're paying the damn bill when the kid needs counseling from it."

"Then I'll make damn sure it's the kind of counseling he needs," Tom said. "Maybe I should take him to see my doctor, instead of that female one you drag him to."

"She's perfectly qualified."

"Whatever!" There came a long dramatic pause, before Tom added his final statement on the matter. "You leave him to me Sue."

"He's all yours Tom."

I waited a few moments to go into the kitchen. I figured if I came in a little slow, they might think I didn't hear the conversation. When I felt the time was right, I pushed open the door. I walked into the kitchen and looked at them both like I was clueless as to what had transpired. My mother looked at Tom, then shook her head as she walked over to help me with the bags. Tom walked over to me, and looked me over.

"Since he had so much fun playing a girl today," Tom said to my mom, "I'm sure he won't mind playing one the rest of the night." He looked me in the eyes until I lowered my head. "Help your mom cook supper, then you can do the dishes after." He brushed past me to exit the kitchen. "We got the wrong damn part for the dishwasher. So we're heading back to the store before it closes.” He stopped to yell down the stairs to my brother's room, as the door shut behind him. "Come on Justin! Let's go!"

My mother and I put the groceries away in silence. I handed her a couple of cans to put in the cupboard. She looked at me and smiled. It felt warm, and looked like she knew exactly what had transpired that day. She did mention she dressed her own brother up, so perhaps she understood all of this was done in fun. When I handed her a jar of pickles to be put in the refrigerator, I heard the front door slam shut. Mom turned to look at me again with a smile.

"You know…" she said. "You kind of look like me when I was in high school."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She reached out to take a carton of milk from me. "About the time I wanted to be a cheerleader." She giggled a bit.

"I don't think that will be happening," I said, with lowered eyebrows.

"Oh, I don't imagine so," she said. "But to be honest, I would support you if you did. And unlike Tom, I don't care what you do with your friends." She paused to think about her statement, and turned back to me with a raised eyebrow. "As long as it isn't drugs, drinking, or illegal."

I rolled my eyes. "I know…"

"I'm just saying I understand what happened today," she said. "Though I wouldn't go overboard with it like you did today."

"Or at least remember that Tom is coming to pick me up early," I said.

"That too."

"I just felt like I'd been keeping Tiffany from having fun this summer, so I agreed to let her do this. Then her sister got involved, and we did this whole fashion catalog shoot thing."

"Sounds like you all had fun."

"We did," I said. "Even though it cost me a summer in panties."

"Speaking of which," my mom said, "you better go put the ones in the sink up to dry."

"I almost forgot," I said as I started to exit the kitchen. Then I stopped and looked at my mom. "Do I really have to wear this all night?"

"Afraid so," she said. "I agreed to let Tom handle your punishment." She walked over to me. "But if you want my honest opinion." She put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a peck on the forehead. "Have fun with it, but don't show it."

"Thanks mom." I smiled and started to leave the room, but she stopped me.

"He wants you to put all your male underwear in this." My mother handed me a small white trash bag.

"I have to throw them away?"

"Heavens no!" she said. "He's just taking them away until you learn your lesson."

I sighed, and took the bag from her hand. Then I turned and pushed the kitchen door open. My mom went back to putting the rest of the groceries away, as I tromped down the hallway to my room. I opened the second drawer of my dresser, and then opened the white trash bag. It only took me a few seconds to gather up all my underwear and toss it in the bag. For some reason I thought maybe my stepfather had gone through this with his dad. I laughed at the thought of his six foot and two inch linebacker frame in a dress, as I tossed the bag down the hallway into his and mom's room.

No. My stepfather was a man's man. He constantly watched sports. Somehow he managed to have the knowledge to fix everything around the house. Apparently he could fix people too. He only dressed up for dress up occasions like funerals and the sort. Otherwise he'd be in some combination of grease-stained jeans and shirt. He smoked, thankfully outside, and drank, but I never saw him get drunk. On top of all of this, he tied it together with his burr haircut, which was about as out of style as his world view.

In the process of thinking about Tom, I'd made it into the bathroom. It only took me a few minutes to rinse my panties out in the sink. After doing so, I rinsed the sink out, and rolled up the remaining pairs in the brown towel. Then I picked up the towel and carried it off to the laundry room. When I walked into the laundry room, I twisted the towel gently, and then slapped it down on the countertop. I unrolled the towel, grabbed a few clothespins, and put the panties up next to my other pairs on the line. My mother walked in behind me.

"You sure picked out some cute ones," she said. "I figured you'd get all white, or some other solid color."

The thought never occurred to me to get plain white. "I just got the first package I saw that fit me."

"Wanted to get out of there as fast as possible?"

"Yeah," I said. "I still can't believe he made me do it."

"Tom's just a typical man," she said. "He gets an idea and there is no way to change his mind about it." She leaned against the dryer behind me. "I'm hoping you don't turn out like that in all honesty. I'd like to see you be more open-minded and mindful of other people's emotions."

"Tiffany and Kate liked my openness today," I admitted.

"You see?" My mother smiled. "Girls like that. A guy doesn't have to always be so macho and strut around like he's in charge."

"Maybe I'm too open." I looked at my panties hanging next to me. "I should've gotten all white," I said with a chuckle.

"Probably would've been better," my mother said with a half-hearted smile. Her face turned serious for a moment. "Do you like dressing as a girl?"

I thought about it for a moment before answering. I couldn't really say I liked dressing in girl's clothing, but I did have a lot of fun doing it today. This could be the fact that I was hanging around Tiffany way too much, and not spending enough time with the other boys. I decided to be honest with myself and my mother. She seemed like she could understand this better than Tom could.

"Honestly…" I looked at my mother. "I like it when Tiffany paints my nails."

"She's done it before?"

"For almost a year," I admitted. "And for a few months I've been keeping my toenails painted."

"I see," she said. "That would explain the sudden lack of being barefoot."

"Today was the first time she did my fingernails."

"Did you like that too?"

I looked at my hot pink fingernails. "I liked her painting them. I don't know if I'd like them painted all the time."

"Well you'll have two months to get that all sorted out in your head." She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "What about the dressing, and the makeup?"

"I loved the attention I got with the makeup," I said without hesitation. "Kate did it, and her and Tiffany were having so much fun…" My thoughts trailed off on me.

"But how did it make you feel?"

"I liked how I looked after," I said. "When I got home and looked in the mirror, I felt… I dunno…"

"Have you ever had thoughts of wanting to be a girl?"

"No!" I said, getting a bit confrontational and emphasizing it by shaking my head. "I just felt different. In a good way. But I don't want to be a girl."

"I just need to make sure," my mother said. "I thought we would have a little honest conversation before Tom got his hands all over it." She unfolded her arms. "What about the clothes?"

I looked down at the floor. "I like them."

"Because of how you look in them, or because of how they feel?"

"How they feel."

"I see," she said. "Well I'm not going to tell you to stop what you're doing. Honestly I don't see how you've done anything wrong. However, I would suggest you cool your jets around Tom, and at least pretend like it's a punishment." She stood up straight. "If he sees you enjoying it, he might try to get more involved." She flashed me a knowing smile. "Men always try to fix everything, but sometimes what they try to fix isn't broken."

"Thanks for understanding mom."

She held her arms open. "Promise me you'll talk to me about this if your feelings change."

"I will," I said with a smile.

I pushed forward from the counter and gave my mother a hug. She held me for a few moments before I broke the embrace. After a moment of her playing with my hair, she brushed past me toward the door. I looked at my panties hanging on the line. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Tom had practically given me free reign to do what I'd been doing for months. Only now I wouldn't have to hide my painted nails. Though I still wasn't sure about doing it all in front of my other friends. At least maybe I could explain my feelings about it all better after the ordeal.

"Should've gotten white," I mumbled, as I turned the light off and walked out the door.

My mother and I finished cooking dinner by the time Tom and Justin got home. We all ate at the table without much talking. An air of tension about the day's events floated around us all. Justin, still wearing his silver down-to-the-knee shorts and gray shirt with the sleeves cut off from practice, talked a bit about football with Tom and mother. I swear he was turning into the typical jock, with nothing to talk about except sports and how he played them. Tom had rubbed off on him entirely too much. Every so often I got a glimpse of Justin and Tom looking at me with a bit of disgust. Mom didn't treat me any differently.

Justin didn't say a single word to me. He ate, got up, put his plate on the counter, and left the kitchen. After Justin was gone, my stepfather reevaluated my punishment. He set ground rules that I had to follow until school started. The first being that I was to wear panties day and night, regardless of where I went or what I did.

Secondly I had to keep my toenails painted all the time, and fingernails unless I was going to be around certain people. Mainly this meant all of Tom's friends, or going places with him. The downside to this rule was I had to wear nail polish around even my male friends. He lifted the restriction on colors, but told me nothing a guy would wear. This led to a five minute discussion on goth people and their black nail polish.

When I saw Tiffany next, Tom said I had to wear her clothes back over there. He also stated that if I was caught dressing again, he'd find new ways to get me to stop. Tom made it a point to emphasize that the entire punishment was designed to make me realize real men don't do girly things without consequences. To try and drive this point home, he asked my mother to lend me something to sleep in that night. She told him she would give me a night shirt to wear. Tom abruptly excused himself from the table afterwards.

"Do the dishes," he said, "then go to your room."

Mom waited until he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and left the room. Then she patted my hand and gave me a wink. She stood, and gathered up the dishes. I relinquished mine. Truth be told, I wasn't all that hungry to begin with, and random Hamburger Helper with corn didn't suit me.

I still couldn't believe a simple game earlier in the day could turn into a major episode. All I wanted to do was have fun with my girlfriend. I started to think of Tiffany, hoping she wasn't beating herself up over all of this. Everything seemed fine in the grand scheme of things. My mother walked over to me. She put her hands on my shoulders and leaned down close to me.

"Put those clothes in the laundry room, and I'll wash them for you."

"Thank you," I mumbled. "If I ever get to see Tiffany again, I can give them back to her."

"Aren't you going to see her Friday for the fourth?"

"I assumed I was grounded," I said.

"He didn't say you were. I think you should call her tomorrow though, and explain the situation." She put her arms around me. "That will give her time if she needs to adjust her plans for…" She paused and looked at me. "Did you have a girl name?"

"We all decided on Bailey," I said, almost reluctant to divulge that information.

"Well that will give her time to include Bailey in her plans."

"I don't know if I'll be doing the Bailey thing anymore."

"Well you'll already be dressed as her," mom said.

"That's true…"

"I'll put some things in your room for you." She kissed the top of my head. "Wash the dishes. Then get some sleep. You had a long day."

"Goodnight mom," I said, still staring at the table.

"Night night sugar."

With those words, my mother left the room. I got up a few minutes later, walked to the sink, and quietly did the dishes. After drying them and putting them away, I exited the kitchen. I saw mom and Tom in the front room watching the evening news, so I figured it was close to eleven o'clock. Pissed at my stepfather, I didn't care to say goodnight to him, so I quietly went down the hall to my room.

I stepped into my room and shut the door behind me. As I leaned back against my door, I noticed some new additions to my belongings. First, there were several more bottles of nail polish on my dresser. There were a few bottles in shades of pink, one in true blue, one in laser red, and then another half bottle of dark red. Then I saw used bottles of top coat and base coat polishes. Next to all of that was a bottle of nail polish remover, cotton balls, files and pink toe separators. Apparently if I was going to be doing this, my mother was going to make sure I was doing it right.

I walked over to my bed and found a few more surprises. My two new pairs of white panties were missing. She probably planned to wash them with the ones I had on. The pair of dark pink panties I'd bought earlier were on my bed with a light pink shirt, which probably would've come down to the knees on me.

Next to the ensemble were a pair of pink ankle socks, about the same color as the shirt, and a few pairs of white ankle socks. Perhaps my mother got the wrong impression when I said I liked wearing girl's things. I didn't mean I wanted to wear them all the time. Now I feared I would soon have my own collection of feminine attire.

For the first time that night, I decided to go with my mom's advice. I was going to have fun, but not let Tom think I was having fun. I kicked off my borrowed ballet flats, gathered up the shirt and panties, and headed for the bathroom. After closing and locking the door, I stripped down to Tiffany's white cotton panties. Something in me wanted to wear them to sleep in, but some other part of me wanted to try the other pair. They were my own pair after all.

I painstakingly scrubbed the makeup off of my face. Then I took the barrettes out of my hair. Though I was pretty much back to boring Zachary, I still had the image of Bailey in my mind. I saw her as I gazed in the mirror. As I brushed my teeth, I saw Bailey brushing her teeth. Somewhere along the line I think I crossed a wire in my brain. Something seemed totally off to me. I figured it would go away with sleep, or perhaps I'd wake from a bad dream. Or was it a good dream?

I dropped Tiffany's panties to the floor and stepped out of them. Then I slowly replaced them with the pair of dark pink panties. They felt so light sliding up my legs. It gave me a sense of doing something so wrong, but it felt so right. As they settled over my bottom and hips, they fit perfectly. I instantly fell in love with the bikini cut, and they looked better than Tiffany's; which I found out later to be full briefs. I quickly put the sleep shirt on, which fell to just above my knees. Then I gathered up everything I discarded, including my sock boobs, and exited the room.

After dropping off Tiffany's clothes in the laundry room, I sneaked down the hallway to my bedroom. I closed the door, instantly wishing I had a lock, and walked over to my bed. As I looked at the socks on the bed, I decided to forgo them. For months I had been hiding my painted toenails, but tonight I didn't have to do that.

I put the pink socks on the table next to my bed, and the other pairs in my dresser. Part of me wanted to even paint my nails tonight, but I knew there would be plenty of time in the months ahead. I flipped off my light, and slipped into bed. Before long I couldn't fight the sleepiness, and dozed off.

I had a fitful sleep, and woke up pretty late in the morning. Tom had already left for work. He had a mindless job in the city cleaning semi trucks. I remember going down with my brother once, and helping him clean the shop. That is if you wanted to call it a shop. Most people would call it an abandoned warehouse big enough to drive semi trucks through. My brother and I got paid decent enough, so it wasn't terrible. Had Tom been the boss, I'm sure it would've been volunteer work.

Usually I was left with Justin to watch over me, but he had football practices until Wednesday. The house seemed unusually quiet. I slipped out from under the covers. The night before wasn't a dream. This became obvious when I looked down and saw my hot pink toenails. My fingernails were still hot pink, and I had on the pink sleep shirt my mother had given to me the night before.

I looked over to my clock. The time, displayed in bright red numbers, read nine twenty three. Next to the clock sat a pair of pink ankle socks. I again passed up putting the socks on. It would be nice to go barefoot for a while with painted toenails. Ever since Tiffany started painting them for me, I had been forced to hide them with socks.

The beige plush carpet beneath me felt familiar, yet strange. My feet sank into it when I stood up. I could feel it pushing up into the spaces between my toes. The individual fibers tickled the sides of my feet. It felt like I was walking on fuzzy pillows as I took the few steps to my door. My hand wrapped around the handle.

All of the lights were out upstairs. My mother was most likely gone too, as she seldom slept past eight o'clock. The few times she did, it would be on a weekend. I started to turn back into my room, when I caught a glimpse of something on my door. When I turned to look, I found a sheet of paper with a list of chores on it. I sighed, and pulled the list from the door.

I walked back into my room. The first item on the list was to empty the dishwasher. Apparently Tom had fixed it by himself last night. I carried the list over to my curtains. After taking a few minutes to throw my curtains back and let some light in, I realized mom's car was gone. She was probably hard at work by now at her office job across town. That meant I had about five hours to myself, until my brother came home. I held the list back up to look it over. It really wasn't all that bad.

"Dishes," I said to myself. "Mop the kitchen floor, clean bathroom mirror, and put the laundry away."

I wadded the list up and tossed it in my garbage can. All of the chores were things Tom considered jobs for women. Honestly, I never saw the difference if the things needed to be done. What the hell did he do while living on his own? Have his sister or girlfriend do them? The whole idea seemed stupid to me, and I didn't mind helping my mother out. Usually I was the only one who did. Not to mention the hall bathroom was mine for the most part.

My eyes wandered down to look at my attire. The pink shirt my mother loaned me to sleep in came down to almost my knees. There was maybe an inch or two from the bottom hem to the top of my knees. It seemed suitable to do chores in. I decided to keep it on. Not like anyone would see me in it. If someone came to the door, I didn't have to answer. I hurried out of my room toward the kitchen.

The dishes took very little time to put away. I guess Tom had only loaded it with a few to make sure it worked, and then ran it again with the morning dishes. My feet stuck to the linoleum floor in the area directly in front of the dishwasher. Now I realized why I had to mop the floor. Tom's lazy ass never cleaned up after himself.

My only dilemma of the day seemed to be what order I would do my chores. To most people this wouldn't seem like a big deal. However, after the ordeal I had yesterday, I was unsure if I could make decisions for my own good. I decided to leave the kitchen floor for last, and made my way to the bathroom. I had no idea how I was going to adjust my regular life for the next two months.

After using the facilities, I brought up the Windex from under the sink. I tried my hardest to clean the mirror without any streaks. As I finished the last few inches of the three foot, square-shaped mirror, I stared at my reflection in it. I missed the makeup from the night before. Everything I felt made me beautiful had been washed away. My lips fell into a pout, which started gears going somewhere in my brain.

I put the bottle of Windex down, and dropped the paper towel I'd been using in the toilet. Next to the sink were Tiffany's barrettes. I picked one up. Then I slid it in my hair on the side, and clipped it over my ear. It pulled my hair back, pulling my wavy strands away from my face, and allowing them to cascade down the side. I took another barrette and did the same on the other side.

For the next few minutes I stood at the mirror. I must have tried a hundred different combinations with the other two barrettes, but I couldn't get it to match the style Kate gave me. The two I had on each side looked cute. They gave me a sort of wavy bob cut look. I finally gave up on where to put the other two, and double clipped both sides. My eyes fell upon my lips in the mirror, which had somehow contorted into a disappointed half frown. Then I smiled.

I exited the bathroom, and quickly went down the hall to the master bedroom. After double checking to make sure Tom wasn't secretly hiding out in his room, I went in and made my way to my mom's dresser. On the top were random assortments of nail polish, lipstick and a ton of makeup. I scanned her lipsticks. Finally I picked a light pink shade.

Gleefully I ran back to the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror. My hands trembled as I popped the cap from the lipstick. Within a few split seconds I had the waxy substance twisted up out of the tube, and had it inches from my lips. I thought of how Kate had shown me to put it on, and I went for it.

The lipstick slid across my bottom lip. It stuck and pulled gently as I took it back the other way. I moved it back and forth several times until it slid easily. My lips grew brighter pink with each pass. I carefully put it on my upper lip, making sure to even get it on the top points of the bow. Then I set the tube down and pushed my lips together. Perfect!

I pulled out a tissue from the box on the counter. I blotted. Then my fingers instantly wrapped around the tube of lipstick again. I reached up and spread another lighter coat on my lips. Afterwards I pushed my lips together and rocked them gently back and forth. When I opened my lips I loved what I saw. I puckered up like I could kiss myself. After tossing the tissue in the toilet and flushing it, I closed up mom's lipstick and headed to the laundry room.

The only things left on my list were mopping the floor and putting the laundry away. If I finished fast enough, I might have time to do my nails before Justin got home. My plans changed slightly when I entered the laundry room. Mom had washed Tiffany's clothes. Her shirt, skirt and socks all sat neatly on the dryer, while her panties and bra were hung up with my panties. All of those panties hanging up seemed so inviting. I stared at Tiffany's bra for a few minutes.

Before I knew it, I had pulled the pink sleep shirt off. I found myself unclipping Tiffany's bra from the wire, and slipping my arms through it. I fidgeted with the back until it was hooked firmly around my chest. Then I walked over to the dryer and picked up her socks, one at a time, and rolled them up. In a matter of moments I had my breasts back from the night before.

I gathered up the pink sleep shirt and pulled it back over my head. In a few seconds I was back at the bathroom mirror. I adjusted the bra and fake breasts until I felt they looked natural. Convinced that nobody could tell the difference, I exited the bathroom and headed back to the laundry room.

There really wasn't much laundry to speak of, as far as I could tell. Tom had a t-shirt, which mom had set aside with stain remover all over it. My things, along with Tiffany's clothes were there of course. Justin had a basket full of mostly gym shorts and cut-off t-shirts. I decided to leave his until I finished mopping. Mom seldom let her clothes stay in the laundry room. For the most part she put everyone's away, but the times she didn't, she almost always took care of her own.

Mom always had nice clothes. I mean they weren't fancy with designer labels or anything, but they were nice. She mostly wore knee length skirts and pretty blouses. Nothing over-the-top, but stuff you'd see a nicely dressed corporate secretary wearing. Usually she would alternate between black pantyhose and tan pantyhose. She seldom wore less than a three inch heel pair of shoes to work.

Justin and I shared looks, as my wardrobe consisted of probably fifty percent hand-me-downs. We both liked baggy jeans from Fall to Spring. I liked jean shorts in the summer, but he liked gym shorts. They had to be the baggy down-to-the-knee ones too. Justin wore a hat ninety percent of the time, where I maybe wore one nine percent of the time. The most common thing between us, was that we liked t-shirts and baggy hooded sweatshirts.

The one thing I never got handed down to me, was shoes. My feet were just too small to fit into his shoes. By the time I caught up to the size he used to wear, my mom would deem them "unsuitable" to wear. So I usually got a new pair of shoes to start the school year. I used the old ones to work or play in until I outgrew them. Then of course I had random situational shoes, but they were usually cheap ones from Wal-Mart.

As I thought about my clothes, I had subconsciously brought mine and Tiffany's back to my room. It took me a few minutes to decide how I wanted my panties folded. The little things like this confused the hell out of me. I decided to fold them like guys briefs. I'm sure I didn't panic some woman on the other side of the world who taught panty folding techniques. My mom had put Tiffany's skirt on one of her hangers with the clips on the bottom. So I hung it up in my closet along with her shirt.

After mopping the kitchen floor with one of those cheap sponge mops, I returned it to the laundry room, and grabbed the basket of Justin's clothes. I stood at the top of the stairs with the basket under one arm. The house seemed so quiet. Ever since I was four or five, I was scared to death of the basement. My fear seemed to alleviate itself over time, but it never went away completely. It was especially worse when I got stuck at home alone.

I started down the stairs. Thinking back on why the basement frightened me, I thought of a time when I had just turned six. My brother and I were running through the house and sword fighting. I think we were playing pirates or something. When we ran downstairs to the middle level, the one with the door to the outside, we heard a thud. We both turned to look down the rest of the stairs, and witnessed the garage door open and close. Then Justin's door opened and closed.

I stopped with my back to the front door and looked down at Justin's door. That episode in my past never wandered far from my memory. There were other times I heard sounds in Justin's room when he wasn't home. I always imagined it was my dead father coming back to the house for something. Maybe he didn't like Tom and wanted to kill him. That was okay with me, as long as I didn't get caught in the crossfire.

I smiled to myself. Then I continued down the stairs to my brother's room. The ceiling crackled a bit as I opened his door. My father had finished the rather large room right before he passed away. He started putting it together slowly when he found out my mom was pregnant with me. They wanted us both to be upstairs, but Justin apparently had thrown one tremendous fit about sharing rooms. So he got his own room downstairs. It was a converted living room, complete with fireplace and his own bathroom.

I snooped a bit as I put his laundry away. Part of me was a bit jealous that Justin got a cool room. The other side of me was relieved he got the creepy haunted room. I always liked fireplaces though. On several occasions I sat by the one upstairs, in the Winter, and read a book. Tom always made fun of me, saying it was a sissy thing to do. Then again, Tom could stand to pick up a book some time. All he ever did was watch television and bitch about what he saw on it.

I put a few clean towels in Justin's bathroom. Figuring I'd go the extra mile for mom, I gathered up his dirty towels and put them in the basket. This would at least save her a trip downstairs, even if I didn't decide to wash them for her. After taking one more quick look around Justin's room, I decided nothing in there interested me. I exited the room and closed the door behind me.

I think I was on maybe the fifth step up when the doorbell rang. Crap! If I had been anywhere else in the house, I could've ignored it. I froze, hoping whoever it was wouldn't lean over to look through the window on the side of the door. Crap again! They did.

On the other side of the door stood Nathan Riley. His lips turned up into a big smile when he saw me. He held up his hand to wave me to the door. Part of me didn't have the will to do this simple request. Some other part of me took over, and drove me up the stairs. I stood before the front door and took a deep breath.

I reached for the deadbolt on the door and unlocked it. Why the hell was I opening the door for him? I grabbed the handle and turned it. What the hell would I say to him? The door swung open. I placed the basket in front of me. Perhaps it would cause enough space between us. Perhaps it would give him the message that I'm busy. Perhaps he would say two words and go away!

"Hey!" Nathan said. "Bailey right?"

I thought for a split second. Thank goodness I put the bra on. "Yes… Nathan was it?"

"Yeah," he said. "I don't wanna bug you." He looked down at the basket. "You seem a little busy."

"Sort of," I lied.

"Cute feet."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a blush come on. A blush? Weird…

His eyes came back up to meet mine. "Well I was just wondering if Justin was home?"

"I'm afraid not," I said. "He's at practice until two or so."

"Oh…" Nathan looked puzzled. "He said we could go over some plays today." He looked up at me with his gorgeous brown eyes. "Maybe he meant next Tuesday…"

"Probably?" I glimpsed down at the basket. "He has practice tomorrow too." My eyes rose back up to his. "You want me to tell him you stopped by?"

"Nah," he said. "I can just come back next week."

"So I take it you play football with him?" Why the hell did I just drag the conversation out?

"Yeah." Nathan smiled. "Freshman camp isn't until the fourteenth, but I talked to him earlier. He said we could go over some of the offense."

"Oh, so you're a freshman?" Why did I care?

"Yeah…" He gave me another strange look. "I assumed you were older than me last night, but looking at you today…" His hand reached up to comb through his black hair. It was definitely black. "You look younger."

"I'm starting seventh grade this Fall," I said.

"Ah." He dropped his hand to his side. "Well I don't want to bore you with football talk."

"Oh, you're not boring me at all," I said. "Besides, I'm used to it with Justin. He goes on and on about it everyday." Why was I still talking?

"You stay here a lot?"

"Not a lot."

"Sorry. You just made it sound like you're here all the time."

For a few seconds I tried to conjure up some excuse as to why I was here. Several times I came up with blanks. The easy thing to do would be to lie. However, if Nathan would be hanging around Justin a lot, he would know in no time flat. Even a moron could connect the dots on this charade. After all, I had to wear nail polish for two months. How could I explain myself next Tuesday if Nathan saw me? The lying was eating at me anyway. I had to tell him before he found out.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Well I don't know you that well," Nathan said, "but I can keep my mouth shut."

"My name really isn't Bailey," I said. "This is a sick and twisted punishment my stepfather is making me go through for the rest of the summer."

"I don't get it."

"He caught me messing around with my girlfriend yesterday." I looked around the street, and then back at Nathan. "We were goofing around and she had me dress up in those clothes you saw me in yesterday."

"Wait so you're a guy?" Nathan said, with raised eyebrows.

"Yes," I looked down at the basket full of towels. "My name is Zach. I'm Justin's younger brother. My stepfather is making me wear girl things for the rest of the summer." I was greeted with silence. So I looked up at Nathan with pleading eyes. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I…" Nathan scratched his head. "Who would I tell?"

"If this gets out…" I said. "I'll never live it down."

"So you have to dress like a girl?"

"So far it's only panties and painted nails," I said. "I'm hoping he doesn't add to it."

"Well, I understand that stepfather's can be pricks," Nathan said. "My own stepfather tries to overcompensate to prove he can handle the job of my dad. He's pretty much an asshole." He looked down at my feet, and scanned up my entire body. "But I don't get this. I mean, if you don't want someone to dress as a girl, why dress them as a girl for a punishment?"

"I don't get it either," I said. "I'm hoping he drops it after a week or two."

"Wait!" Nathan cocked his head to the left. "If it's just panties and nails… what's with the lipstick and tits?"

"I…" My mind drew a total blank.

"And you even did your hair." Nathan smiled. "You don't like it do you?"

"I..." Again a blank! Think dammit!

"Look," Nathan said. "It's okay if you do or don't. It really doesn't bother me one way or the other." He dropped his smile. "But it looks like you're in over your head."

"I am!" I pouted.

"To be honest," Nathan said, "you could go either way."

"Huh?"

"Just saying you make a cute girl. You have the features for it." He shrugged. "I never would've known the difference if you didn't tell me."

"Thanks… I think."

"Just be careful with whatever you do, okay?"

"Sure."

"I'll see you later," Nathan said. "Kinda curious as to whether I'll see Zach or Bailey, but I'll see you regardless."

"Thanks for being cool with it."

"Eh, I know how it is." He turned to walk down the steps. Then he stopped, and held his hand up as he did so. "You still have cute feet."

I was definitely blushing now. I could feel the heat. "Thanks." I smiled at him as I shook my head.

Nathan started down the stairs again. "Take care," he said behind him.

"You too."

I leaned back against the door as I closed it behind me. For the third time in two days, I had this weird and unfamiliar feeling inside. Once it had happened when Kate put makeup on me. Twice it had happened after talking to Nathan. Was I giddy? Did I like being Bailey? My thoughts wandered to the moment Bailey had been "born" in Tiffany's bedroom. I was giddy then! I'd been giddy for the past twenty four hours!

I mindlessly locked the front door, and carried myself up the stairs. Without even looking at where I put it, I dropped the basket in the laundry room. I had to think about this. My "cute" feet carried me into my room, and there I sat on my bed. After a few minutes of recalling the past two days, I started to weigh facts.

I put my hands on my bare knees and put my feet out. My eyes danced back and forth between my toenails and my fingernails. The hot pink left an imprint in my mind when I shut my eyes. I opened them. In my own head I finally reached a conclusion on my nails. I liked them painted. The fact wasn't that I liked Tiffany to paint them, but that I actually liked having them painted.

My hands rubbed over my knees. I barely had any peach fuzz on my legs. While I loved seeing girls with smooth and hairless legs, I still wanted hair on mine. I actually looked forward to it, like it was a right of passage. So that little fact told me I still wanted to have a guy's body, with hair and all. It felt like the natural thing.

Muscle? I didn't have much to speak of, but I knew I wanted some. Not like my brother's, as he was starting to look like those big bulky athletes on television, but at least enough to show I was a boy. Maybe I could start lifting weights? No, that wasn't like me. So far I had two facts weighing on the male side of my brain.

The female side fought back. I liked makeup. Maybe part of it was because it made me look like another person yesterday. Some other part of me liked the way it felt. Combined with the way I felt with it on, and the way I looked, I came to the ultimate conclusion that I liked wearing it. Even if it was only lipstick, it still appealed to me.

The issue of clothing is were I hit a double-edged sword. When I wore my own clothes, I liked baggy stuff. It felt comfortable. When I wore Tiffany's clothes, I liked her tights and form-fitting shirts. That felt comfortable as well, but a different kind of comfortable. I would never wear tight clothing as a guy, because even I thought that looked sissy. I had mixed feelings on the issue. After a few minutes of thinking, I decided I liked both. Maybe I was becoming a guy that liked to crossdress occasionally?

However, I couldn't do that. Tom would either kill me, or utterly humiliate me. I'd probably have to dress as a punishment, which would mean when he wanted me to do it. It wouldn't be fun then, and I wouldn't feel comfortable. I started to wonder if Tiffany would let me dress at her place. She would at least have fun along with me. Then I remembered I had to call her. I picked up the phone.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 3

It seemed like it took forever for Friday to come around. I had called Tiffany on Tuesday, and told her I could still do something with her on the Fourth of July. When I explained my punishment to her, she seemed as confused as I did. At least that was her initial reaction. After I told her I had to wear her clothes back over there Friday, she immediately had mixed opinions.

I told her we could make other plans, but she insisted on me coming over regardless. She didn't plan on me coming back in her clothes. So she told me I could come a little early to change into the ones I left over there. If I made it there before the guests started arriving for the cookout, I could slip in and be done with it. Both of us were at a loss on the nail polish dilemma, but she said if I wore a less feminine color, we could play it down.

We both decided to forego my mother's advice. She had told me to go as Bailey and have fun with it. "I'd be dressed anyway," my mother had said. However, that wouldn't really sit well with the company Tiffany planned on having. It was basically her parents' friends, but Tiffany had managed to get permission to have a few friends over, including her boyfriend. We were all planning on going to see the fireworks at the local high school.

While it was true that I would probably have fun as Bailey, if my stepfather caught me as Bailey again, there would be hell to pay. A huge part of me started to not care. On Thursday night I meticulously painted all of my nails. I applied base coat, and followed it with two coats of true blue polish. After two applications of top coat, I had the shiniest patriotic display I could muster. Since Tom had forced me to paint my nails anyway, I thought I might as well take my time and make it special. I was going to alternate each nail with laser red, but figured this was something a girl would do.

The nail color didn't exactly sit well with Tom when he saw them. The task was to get me to do something humiliating, like paint them pink. When he saw me gushing to my mom over my painted nails, he began to suspect I was enjoying it. I could see it eating away at him. He also seemed mad about me going to Tiffany's for the fourth. However, he was leaving Friday night for some fishing trip with Justin anyway, and wouldn't be back until Sunday night. What the hell did he care?

I almost leapt out of bed when I woke up Friday morning. I couldn't wait to get away from Tom, even if he was going to be gone the entire weekend. After a nice breakfast of pancakes and sausage, I deliberately wasted a few hours alone in my room. It gave me time to think. Tom wouldn't leave until after I did. So I couldn't skip out of the house in my own clothes. He would make sure of that.

For the first hour or so, I tried to think of some way I could slip out of the house unseen. I sat and stared at Tiffany's outfit. I'd already deemed it as "the outfit" in my own mind. It would later become the outfit I associated with everything in my life that went wrong. To be honest with myself, I really didn't want to wear it again. The stupid thing even haunted my dreams.

I had secretly slipped the ballet flats on a few times since Monday. However, I couldn't bring it upon myself to slip on the whole outfit. Even when I was alone, it didn't seem like the right thing to do. It was a huge relief to know that Tiffany didn't want me to wear it again either. She wanted a boyfriend. She made it abundantly clear that the boyfriend she wanted was me. Something in me felt like Tom was trying to ruin it all for me.

Tom ruined a lot of things in my opinion. He made my mom feel like she couldn't do better. I knew damn well she could. She was a beautiful woman, even if she was nearing forty-three. Tom treated her fine, but I think she developed an abandonment complex over time. Justin maybe said one paragraph to me since Monday. This made me sad too, as I had always been able to at least pal around with him. Now he avoided me like the plague.

I recalled the dream I had the night before. In the dream I stood before an all girls boarding school somewhere in a frozen tundra. Tom laughed at me as he drove away. In the passenger seat my mother cried as she looked back. Justin stared forward with a vague expression, ignoring the event entirely. Slowly Tom's car drifted down the road and over the horizon. I stood alone, with "the outfit" on, freezing in the icy cold winds.

Those chilling images carried with me to the bathroom. I set about to the mundane tasks of getting ready. The shower was short and uneventful. I toweled off and dried my hair. Everything seemed boring and uneventful, until I had to don "the outfit". My eyes looked over it. Why couldn't I just shove it in a bag and go over there as myself?

I put my feet through the panties, and slid them up my legs. To be honest with myself at that time in my life, I actually liked wearing them. I didn't much care for the bra, which I put on next. My mother told me to forego the "breasts" for now. She said they didn't look right at my age. I hooked the bra closed, and pulled on Tiffany's pink t-shirt over my head. After pulling the skirt on, I opened the door and called for my mom. She came into the bathroom and smiled at me.

"Can you do something with my hair?" I asked.

"Sure honey," my mother said. "We'll just brush it out and clip it. That should be fine."

My mother didn't have anyone to really practice hairstyles on, but she got it pretty close to what Kate did Monday. Kate had a little sister to practice on, so she did a much better job. However, my mom did it fairly well, and somehow managed to give me some bangs. She loosened my front hair, and put the clip in it near the ends. It bubbled out in front to give the illusion of curly bangs.

"Thanks mom," I said when she had finished.

"Not a problem," she said. "Go grab your shoes, and I'll meet you in the living room."

She left me alone. I hurried to brush my teeth. Then I ran to my room. I sat on the edge of my bed and wiggled my feet into Tiffany's ballet flats. Out of all the things I wore of hers, I liked her shoes a lot. My own shoes were boring. Girls just had a lot more to choose from, and this interested me. I shook the thoughts from my head, and hurried into the living room.

Tom had prepared a lecture for me before I went. He went on and on about how it better be the last time I wore girls' clothes. My mother tried several times to tell him we had to go. However, Tom kept saying we could go when he was finished talking. For another ten minutes he made it clear that he wanted me to start acting right. In his mind that meant to act like a rough little bastard boy. He ended it all with a threat that if he ever caught me in girls' clothing again, he would be taking me to see someone about it, and it would be fixed.

Finally, Tom let us go. My mother and I hurried downstairs and out the door. I saw Nathan across the street, at the house adjacent to my neighbor. He waved to me when he saw me. I waited until my mother was in the car, and then I waved back at him. In a matter of a few seconds I was in the car and buckled in. My mother started the car up and backed out of the driveway. We were finally on our way to Tiffany's house.

Tiffany's street was lined with cars, and her driveway was full. So my mother dropped me off in the street in front of her house. She told me all of the usual things, like to behave and be safe if there were fireworks. Afterwards, I closed the door and stepped backwards a few paces. I waved to my mother, and she took off down the road. For a moment I simply stared up at the front door, but then managed to carry myself up the driveway and the few steps toward it. My finger sank into the doorbell. I heard Tiffany's voice through the door.

"I'll get it!"

Tiffany opened the door quickly. She grabbed my wrist, pulling me into her house. We passed the small group of guests in the living room. Their shapes passed my eyes in a blur. I found myself being pulled toward her bedroom, and being pushed inside. She disappeared for a few minutes, and when she came back into the bedroom she had Kate in tow with her. Kate had to look twice before she realized it was me. Then she smiled.

"You're late!" Tiffany said.

"I know. I'm sorry," I said. "Tom wouldn't let my mom and I go."

"Well, your clothes are on the bed," Tiffany said, as she pointed to them. "Or…"

"Or what?"

"Option two," Kate said, as she held up a tube of lipstick.

"No," I said. "No, I want out of these things." I shook my head, folding my arms across my chest.

"We're not going to force you," Kate said.

"We just thought maybe you'd be more comfortable," Tiffany said. "You know… with your nails and all."

I held my hands up with my nails facing them. "They're blue," I said. "I can probably get away with them."

"Well…" Kate closed the door and lowered her voice. "We were thinking…"

"That's never good," I said with a smirk.

"Just hear me out," Kate said. "My friend, who lives behind the school, is having a pool party tonight."

"I thought I was staying here with Tiffany?"

"Zach is," Tiffany said.

"I don't get it," I said. "I am Zach!"

"See…" Kate leaned against the door. "It's an all girls pool party. Her parents won't let guys come."

"I don't mind staying here," Tiffany said. "But if you wanted to do something else."

"We're not trying to pressure you into anything," Kate said. "Just thought you might have more fun at a pool party than a boring cookout with our parents' friends."

"So we say Zach," I shook my head. "I mean I, never showed up here." I glanced at Tiffany. "And I go as Bailey to the pool party?"

"Right," Tiffany said. "But it's totally up to you."

"Won't they figure it out?"

"Figure what out?" Kate asked.

I turned to look at her. "That I'm not a girl?" I grabbed my chest. "These aren't real."

Kate and Tiffany both laughed hysterically. Tiffany stepped back and sat on her bed. She continued to laugh as Kate calmed down a bit. I watched as Kate grabbed her own chest. She jiggled her breasts a bit.

"These didn't start growing 'til my freshman year," Kate said, with a hint of the laughter still in her voice.

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "Most girls don't get a rack until they're well into high school." She wiped her eyes.

"Mine aren't even done growing," Kate said. "You'll be fine."

"What about…" My eyes hinted at my crotch. "You know?"

"Can't you tuck it or something?" Kate asked.

"What if it pops out or something?"

Tiffany collapsed on the bed. She burst out laughing. Her arms held fast to her stomach, and she began to kick her feet in the air. As absurd as the scene seemed, she had an almost hypnotic and a completely agreeable sound to her laughter. It sounded so innocent, and as I listened to her laugh, my mind recapped on what I had said. It did seem pretty funny. I joined in her laughter. Kate did as well, only more contained. She held one hand over her mouth to try and hide her giggling.

"Okay…" I said, catching my breath. "If you think we won't get caught."

"I don't think we will," Kate said.

Tiffany gathered herself, and sat up on the side of her bed. "I don't think so either."

"We're screwed if your mom calls," Kate said.

"Well…" I looked at Tiffany. "I'll call her and tell her the change of plans." I glanced at Kate. "If you can bring me home?"

"Sure!" Kate said.

"So you'll do it?" Tiffany asked.

I shrugged. "Got an extra swimsuit?"

Tiffany's face lit up with a smile. She leapt from the bed, and rushed over to me. Before I could even react to anything, she had me pinned up against her wall. Her soft lips pushed against mine. Our eyes closed. For several moments she forcibly kissed me. It seemed like the most passionate kiss we'd ever shared. She pushed into me.

I thought the kiss would go on forever. Tiffany really seemed into it. I'd never seen her this aggressive before. When Kate started clearing her throat, Tiffany got the hint. She reluctantly let up on her kiss, and we shared a few tender follow-up pecks. The tip of her tongue glided over my bottom lip. My eyes sprung open to see Tiffany pulling away. Then she opened her own eyes and smiled.

"Um… we should get changed," Kate said.

"Uh huh," was all I could muster. I continued to lean against the wall.

"I have the perfect outfit for you… Bailey," Tiffany said.

She scurried over to her dresser. After rummaging through a drawer, she pulled two items out and turned to face me. I saw my "perfect outfit" in her hands. In her left hand was a bright pink one-piece bathing suit, and in her right hand a dark red one-piece. Aside from color, they almost matched completely. I shook my head gently with mouth wide open.

"You don't want to do it?" Tiffany asked.

"No, I'll do it," I said. "Just of all the things I thought I'd be doing this Summer…"

"Not high on your list?" Kate asked with a giggle.

"Not anywhere near my list." I put my hands on my hips. "I suppose I have to wear the pink?"

"That would be silly," Tiffany said. "You get the red."

"Very patriotic with your nails," Kate said.

I glanced over to see Kate smiling. Then my attention fell on my girlfriend. Tiffany walked the swimsuits over to me. I reached for the red one, and she pulled it back. She pushed the pink one forward, with a big smile on her face. I shook my head furiously and she laughed. Then she handed me the red bathing suit.

I took the red swimsuit from her hand, and Kate led me out of the room. She walked ahead of me, covering me incase someone saw us. Then she stood outside of the bathroom as I locked myself inside. After closing the door, I quickly pulled my borrowed clothes off, pausing shortly before dropping the panties. I stood for a lingering moment with the red material in my hands. Looking down at my fingernails and toenails, I figured people wouldn't assume too much. I took a deep breath and stepped into the bathing suit.

I thought for sure this thing wasn't going to fit, but I never realized how stretchy the material would be. However, I held fast to my end of the bargain; the one I made up in my own mind in Tiffany's room. If this thing fit, I would go… maybe. Try I did, and fit it did. I pulled the straps up over my shoulders and fidgeted with everything. There I was looking in the mirror at a prepubescent girl, but it was me. Kate and Tiffany beckoning to see me, prompted me slowly but surely to open the bathroom door.

"Looking good," Kate said.

"Awesome!" Tiffany said.

Tiffany couldn't contain her excitement. Already dawning her pink version of the red swimsuit I was wearing, she stood there fussing over me. She fixed my hair with her fingers, and moved around me to adjust the swimsuit. I looked almost exactly like her, but with medium length blonde hair, instead of long black hair. Our bodies seemed remarkably similar at this age.

Her hands moved all over my body. I felt her pull the swimsuit out at my bottom to make it cover more. She pulled the front up more, leaving more of my back exposed. Then she adjusted the straps on my shoulders. When she came back around to my stomach, she smoothed over my front, and adjusted the suit a bit more.

The feeling of her hands running over my body felt good, with only a thin layer of smooth material between us. She glanced around, and then ran her hand between my legs. I jumped, and shifted away from her a bit when she cupped my genitals. She seemed frisky. After she became satisfied with the fit, she threw her arms around me, giving me a big hug. Then she kissed me on the cheek and let me go.

"Could you excuse my sister and I?" Kate said. She was glaring at Tiffany.

"You can go call your mom in my room," Tiffany said. "I'll come do some finishing touches."

Tom and Justin had already left, and so my mother answered the phone. My mom seemed perfectly fine with the plans, even stating I could spend the night if I was on my best behavior. I wasn't sure about that at all, but told her I would call her back if I did. She told me to have fun and act like a lady. Even though I was going to be Bailey for the night, it still irritated me she said it like that. My spirits weren't dampened all that much though, as I hung up the phone and waited.

I waited for quite a while. Several minutes went by before Tiffany came bursting into her room with two large beach towels, and some other assorted items. She handed me a pair of white cotton shorts, and a pair of red flip-flops. I dropped the sandals to my feet and pulled on the shorts before slipping my blue-tipped feet into the sandals. I watched her for a moment pull on a pair of black shorts, and slip her own feet into a pair of pink flip-flops.

Then she turned to me and held up a tube of lipstick. I remember her telling me the shade was Toast of New York, some Revlon shade that was hugely popular in the 1990's. Kate walked into the room and mentioned every girl around their age wore it. I shrugged. Instead of letting me put it on, Tiffany applied the lipstick lightly to my lips. She then messed with my hair a bit more, and put a couple of barrettes in it.

"Don't look so disappointed," Kate said.

"I didn't realize I did."

"You look sad," Tiffany said.

"Oh… I guess I was just expecting more."

"More what?" Kate asked.

"Makeup and stuff, I guess."

"Well we are going swimming," Tiffany said. "Would get ruined anyway."

"Besides," Kate said. "That makeup I put on you the other day was overkill."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. I just did it heavy like that to show up in the pictures."

"Most girls our age don't wear a lot of makeup," Tiffany said.

"You really do look better natural," Kate said. "The lipstick's more for confidence than anything." She winked at me.

Tiffany shoved my towel into a large bag. She tossed in sunscreen with the towel. Then she repeated the process for her own bag. In her bag, she also put the lipstick. Lastly she handed me a pair of sunglasses with red frames.

"Still got a few more hours of sun," Tiffany said. "Ready to go?"

I stood there frozen. "What if someone recognizes me?"

"I don't hardly recognize you," Tiffany said.

"Nobody will even know you," Kate added.

"What if something happens in the pool?"

"You'll be fine," Kate said.

"I don't know if I can go like this."

"Look…" Kate put her hands on my bare shoulders. "We'll tell our parents we're leaving. If they recognize you, that'll be your out."

"If you pass as my friend Bailey," Tiffany said, "then we go. Deal?"

She just stood there with the biggest smile on her face. Her look beamed with confidence. She put her sunglasses on her head in a way where it held her hair back. Though she didn't know it, she had already won the argument. She won it way back when she kissed me. Then again, maybe she did know it. Women…

"Okay. If they don't catch on, I'll go."

"That's the spirit!" Kate said.

"We will so make this up to you," Tiffany said.

"How?"

"We'll think of something," Kate said.

Both girls moved for the door. I put my sunglasses on my head, copying Tiffany, and sheepishly followed them into the hall. They say when trying something new, the first step is always the hardest. I think I may have walked past about twenty people until I realized the guests weren't staring at me. In fact they all seemed too absorbed in their conversations. Sure we got noticed. Who wouldn't notice three girls in bathing suits? However, they didn't stare at us like they were trying to determine which of us was a boy.

"You girls going to the pool party now?" Tiffany's mom asked from across the room.

"In a little while," Kate said. "Where's dad?"

"He's out firing up the grill. Make sure you girls get something to eat before you leave."

"Will do," Tiffany said. "You remember Bailey?"

"Of course!" Tiffany's mom waved at me. "Nice to see you again. Shame Zach couldn't make it. You girls have fun." She turned back to talk to someone else.

Tiffany leaned over slightly to whisper in my ear. "If you can get past mom, you already won."

We all walked outside into the backyard. The boy side of me wanted to kick the hapless pinecones strewn across the back patio, but the girl side of me gave heed to me falling flat on my face while doing so. I didn't wear flip-flops much. So that tended to be the first dilemma. The second dilemma would be the fact that I was too scared to act outside of the perceived character of a young girl.

Tiffany and I sat down at their outdoor table, as Kate went over to talk to their dad. Next to me, Tiffany continued to gab away as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She shared her concerns about starting junior high in two months, and how sad it would be that we were going to different schools. I looked at her confused. We were both going to the same junior high school. Then it dawned on me she was talking about Bailey.

"Yeah," I said. "Too bad we won't get to see much of each other."

"Well we got the rest of the Summer," Tiffany said.

When I looked at the plate of raw hamburgers sitting on the grill, I felt a bit queasy at the thought of going through with this. Maybe it was the heat. Perhaps a dip in the pool wouldn't be so bad after all. After a few minutes, I started to stop concentrating on my situation for once. I joined in with my girlfriend's conversation and she smiled at me.

"You'll be fine," she tried to convince me. She leaned forward to whisper to me. "Just act natural."

I leaned forward to whisper back. "If I act natural, won't I be a boy?"

"If you say so," Tiffany said. "But you don't look the part."

"No thanks to you."

"I lied when I said I didn't like you as Bailey."

"That's not even funny," I said loudly. I lowered my voice when Kate looked at me. "Why?"

"Why did I lie?"

"No," I said. "Why do you like it?"

"I don't know what it is," Tiffany said. "Like, I don't think your step dad is right at all, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't want to make you mad."

"I won't be mad," I said.

"You've just got this side of you that appeals to me," Tiffany said.

"A girly side?"

"It really isn't that," she said. "I mean you have it without being Bailey."

"I'm more confused now, than I was when this started."

"There is something special about you that I really like," Tiffany said. "That's the best way I can explain it."

"Hey!" Kate yelled. "Girls over there! Look over here!"

We both looked at Kate. She looked amazing in her forest green swimsuit. It hugged every single inch of her upper body. She waved her arms out in front of her. They were slim arms, not boney, but a fit slim, with a very healthy tan glow. The same glowing tan covered her shapely legs, legs that seemed to go on forever from her white knit shorts to her white flip-flops. Her shiny black hair looked wet and silky, and was pulled back into a high ponytail.

"Do you young ladies want a hotdog before you go?" their dad asked.

"I'll take one," Tiffany said.

"Bailey?"

Was that me? I stared at Kate's amazing body. I stared until I felt a jab in my ribs. I glanced at Tiffany, and then back at Kate. She had an amused smile on her face, but with her eyes she was prodding me to focus my attention elsewhere. Then I looked at their dad. He stood with a puzzled look on his face.

"I'm sorry," I said. "My mind was completely on something else. I'll take one please."

Their dad shook his head as he laughed. "Coming right up."

Tiffany leaned over to me. "Do you have a crush on my sister?" she asked with a whisper.

"I…" I looked at her. "I'm just imagining you looking that good when you're older."

Tiffany shook her head letting loose a small laugh. "Relax! Even your voice is high when you're nervous." She bumped me with her elbow. "You're a girl. You shouldn't be staring at other girls like that."

After a brief moment of regret at being called a girl, I quickly got over it. I vowed from that moment on I would try not to stare at other girls again. At least I wouldn't be caught by Tiffany while doing it. I didn't even ponder at that moment where this all would take our relationship. However, it didn't really concern me. Tiffany still found me appealing even when I was Bailey. For the rest of the day, I was no longer her boyfriend. I was one of the girls.

We ate soon after the little episode. For three girls, we put away a hotdog in record time. I think we were all nervous about getting out of there as fast as possible. I for one could imagine their mom eventually putting my face on a boy's body. Our little endeavor would be derailed quickly if that happened. Kate and Tiffany gave their dad a kiss on the cheek, and we were off.

Instead of going back through the house, we walked around the yard. I had a flashback of my stepfather sitting in the driveway, imagining what would happen if he saw this. Kate purposefully parked at the back of the driveway. I was personally glad. It meant we could get out fast. I let Tiffany into the backseat before me, and started to climb in after her. Kate poked her head into the car.

"Uh… no!" Kate said. "I'm not playing chaperone. One of you sit up front."

"Bailey can," Tiffany said. "She has a huge lesbian crush on you."

I hid my face, as I felt the burning sensation of a blush coming over it. By the time I had put the passenger seat back, Kate had settled into the driver's side seat. I stepped into the car and sat next to her. The tan vinyl stuck to me everywhere. Kate started up the car as I shifted uncomfortably.

"You get used to it," Kate said.

"I guess so," I said.

"Last chance," Kate said, looking into my eyes. "Once we leave this driveway, you're stuck as Bailey until we come back."

"She's ready!" Tiffany said.

I nodded.

"So be it!"

Kate backed the car out of the driveway. She pulled the gear selector down into drive, and we were off. The high school was about six blocks from their house, and Kate's friend's house was only five or so blocks after that. So instead of hitting the radio on, we all decided to talk. Well, we all didn't decide to talk. Rather Kate had a few things to say.

"You two really need to chill with the kissing and groping. Especially when you're Bailey." She glanced at me.

"I was just fooling around," Tiffany said.

"Exactly!" Kate said. "What if mom or dad saw you kissing? They'd either think you were a lesbian." She looked in the mirror at her sister. "Or you both would have a ton of explaining to do."

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Point taken."

"I don't want to be the one who puts a drag on all of this," Kate said. "Just be careful of your surroundings. Please?"

"Okay," we both chimed in together.

"Now…" Kate pulled up to a stop sign. "I think it's kind of cute that you two can do this, and I want you to have fun with it."

"But?" Tiffany asked.

"But," Kate said, "you…" She looked at me. "Have to remember that you're acting as a twelve-year-old girl." She pulled away from the stop sign. "And in remembering that, also remember there are certain expectations of how you should act."

"I'll behave," I said.

"It's not just that," Kate said. "I guess what I'm trying to say is I want Tiffany to be the standard tonight." She glanced at Tiffany again in the mirror. "Meaning she should go above and beyond to show you the way to properly act like a young lady."

"I will," Tiffany said, rolling her eyes.

Kate tapped my knee. "And you follow her example."

"Okay," I said. "I feel really nervous now."

"Don't feel nervous," Kate said. She patted my thigh. "You'll be fine. Just have fun, and stay close to Tiff." She moved her hand back to the steering wheel. "She knows how to act. Even if she doesn't act like she should."

Tiffany reached up and put her hand on my shoulder. "This'll be fun. Relax."

"And even though you have a crush on me," Kate said, "it's not polite to stare."

"I'm sorry," I said, noticeably blushing. "Especially to Tiffany."

"It's okay," Tiffany said. "I'll share, as long as I get Bailey." She shook my shoulder, and we all laughed a bit of the tension off.

Kate pulled into an empty spot on the street. By the time we reached the driveway of Kate's friend's house, Tiffany and I were walking arm in arm. We approached the door and Kate rang the doorbell. An older lady opened the door. I assumed it was the girl's mother. She had a bathing suit on and her hair looked a little wet.

"Hi misses Young," Kate said. "Did the party already start?"

"Hello Kate," Mrs. Young said. "They're all around back. Is this your sister?" She looked at Tiffany.

"I guess it's been awhile since you've seen her," Kate said.

"You're growing up fast Tiffany," Mrs. Young said. "Going to be as pretty as Kate in a few years. And who's your friend?"

"This is Bailey," Tiffany said.

"Well nice to meet you Bailey," Mrs. Young said. "You're a cutie too."

"Thank you," I said.

"Rebecca is in the back," Mrs. Young said. "You girls can come through here, or go on around."

"We'll go around," Kate said. "Thanks misses Young."

"Oh call me Betty," Mrs. Young said. "You girls have fun."

All three of us walked around the house, and through a gate to the backyard. Finally we had reached the long-awaited destination of our journey. Kate stopped to talk to the girl I could only assume was Rebecca. She was a little heavier set than Kate, but not bad to look at, and a few inches taller than Kate.

Rebecca had what my mom would call a healthy weight. Her legs were really nice, but a bit muscular for my taste. I assumed they got that way from swimming a lot. She had a nice firm butt, but a bit of a problem area in her midsection. The rest of her seemed pretty fit. A nice flowing crown of wavy golden blonde hair sat atop her slightly chubby face.

Tiffany pulled me over to two empty chairs and we put our stuff down between them. Then she retrieved her towel and draped it over her chair. I followed suit, trying to emulate her the best I could. She kicked her flip-flops to the side, and pushed her shorts down. I watched the material slip from one foot and then the other. I removed my own shorts in the same fashion, but decided to slip on my flip-flops again after, as the concrete ground was scorching hot.

As I pulled out the sunscreen Tiffany gave me, she eased into the chair with her own bottle. I sat down next to her and we applied our sunscreen. It was unusual for me at first, not having to put it on most of my upper body, and Tiffany seemed to know what I was thinking as I glanced over at her. She slipped on her flip-flops and came over and put sunscreen on my back, neck and shoulders. In turn I helped her with her own back.

Then I slipped off my flip-flops, and eased myself down on my back into the chair. I sat there for quite a while, dazed and gazing at my glimmering blue toenails. At one point I tapped my feet together, feeling strangely at ease in the process. Somewhere, seemingly distant, a few of the girls shouted and splashed away in the pool. I finally felt relaxed.

A gentle warm breeze blew by me. The smell of chlorine mixed with the Hawaiian Tropic sunscreen stirred beneath my nostrils. I found myself lost in the moment. For several minutes I sat motionless in the chair, until Tiffany rustled in the chair next to me as she turned over to get some sun on her front. I realized the heat was becoming unbearable, but I turned over to take more abuse. I turned my head to face Tiffany, and she gave me a warm smile.

Finally she had had enough sun, and decided it was time for the pool. Tiffany dropped her sunglasses in the bag, and stood up next to me, casting a shadow across my midsection. I started to get up, but she stepped over and pushed me back down. She reached for the sunscreen again, and then sat on the chair next to me. I could feel her warm leg against my side through the swimsuit.

I felt her apply the now warm lotion on the back of my legs, and rub it in down to my heels and around the sides. Her hands even reached up to my bottom, and pushed the material of the swimsuit away to expose more of my bottom to the sun. I heard the bottle squirt again, and felt her hands on the exposed part of my back, and then my shoulders. As she massaged the sunscreen in, even going under the swimsuit a bit, she leaned close to speak into my ear.

"I have to use the little girl's room," she said. "We can't swim for awhile anyway, so you might as well get a nice tan. I'll probably be back to tan some more too." She finished putting the sunscreen down the backs of my arms. "Don't forget the sunscreen on your face and front, sweetie."

I felt her lightly pat my exposed backside. She pushed off of me, and was gone. The sun continued to beat down on my back. My mind wanted to concentrate on the sounds of the pool, but the heat remained relentless. I decided to turn over. I felt around for the sunscreen and eventually pulled it up to me. The bottle was hot, and the lotion hotter still. I applied it liberally to the exposed parts of my front, and at the same time tried to find Tiffany in the crowd of people.

She seemed to be inside still. I had no idea what was keeping her. As I sat and waited, Kate came over and sat down in Tiffany's chair. I expressed my opinion of the heat by dramatically fanning myself. Kate smiled at me, as she began to put sunscreen on her legs and arms. At least from this position on the chair I could watch the pool. I applied lotion to my face, and then turned my attention back toward Kate.

"Where'd Tiff go?"

"She said the restroom, but it's been awhile."

"Well," Kate said. "I'll use her chair while she's gone." She stood up and stepped over to me. "Will you do my back?"

"Sure," I said, as Kate slid onto my chair.

After a couple of minutes of excruciatingly trying to put lotion on Kate without getting excited, she thanked me and returned to her seat. The next several minutes passed slowly. Kate turned over eventually, and adjusted her swimsuit over her bottom. I couldn't help myself from stealing glances at her. Everything about her was amazing. I knew she kept fit by running and jogging, but I never knew how fit she really was until I saw her that day.

"Aw you took my chair." Tiffany said from behind me.

"I can move," Kate mumbled.

"No it's okay," Tiffany said.

"You can have mine," I said.

"I'm gonna sit by the pool," Tiffany said.

Kate reached out and touched my arm. "You need to turn back over for a few, or you'll be uneven."

Tiffany breezed by between us. She walked to the pool and eased herself down onto the edge. Before long she started kicking her feet in the water. I waved to get her attention. She only smiled and returned the wave. Then she motioned for me to turn over. I reluctantly turned over onto my stomach, and began to count off another five minutes in my head.

"Hey," Kate's voice came softly beside me. "Bailey."

I turned to look at Kate.

"My sister loves you," Kate said, low enough to where nobody else could hear.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kate said, "and I mean the whole package."

"I don't understand."

"She thinks you're smart, funny, and fun to be with," Kate said. "Not only that, but she loves the Bailey side of you almost as much as the Zach side."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." Kate gave me a big smile. "She likes that Bailey can do things with her like go to this party." She reached out and touched my arm again. "But don't get me wrong. She still likes having a boyfriend."

"What do you think about it?"

"Me?" Kate had to stop and think for a moment. "It's not really up to me, but…" She patted my arm. "I think you look cute either way."

"Would you ever date me?" I asked, but then quickly added. "I mean, someone like me."

"Well you're a bit too young, kiddo," she said. "But personally, I'm into pretty boys, though none of them ever dressed as a girl. So yeah. It could happen." She gave me a wink. "I'm always there as a big sister if you need me though." She removed her hand from my arm, and started to turn over. "Why don't you go sit with Tiff over there?"

I flipped over, and as I did I saw Tiffany talking with some other girl. She was obviously involved in the conversation, and I decided to not interrupt her right away. I sat on the edge of the chair and leaned closer to Kate. She had her right leg bent slightly at the knee. I stared at her legs and feet for a moment. I didn't even notice Kate had turned to look at me.

"Find something you like?"

Without pulling my stare away, I answered her with a question. "How do you stay in such great shape?"

"You think I'm in great shape?" Kate asked.

"Well yeah." I had to be honest. "Your body is amazing." I felt a little bold. "I'd totally worship it." Maybe too bold… "If I was your boyfriend I mean." I looked at her.

Kate's eyebrow raised. "Well you're not."

"I know," I said. "I'm just saying."

"Well don't," Kate said. "Tiffany was joking about sharing. I'm not gonna do my sister like that."

"Okay. I get it," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Look," Kate leaned toward me. "I get it too. You think I'm pretty." She looked over at her sister. "But think of Tiffany." She looked back at me. "I mean, she's okay with us acting all sisterly and all, but in no way would I ever cross that fine line." She gave me a tap on the head. "So get it through your head."

"Got it," I said.

"Good!" Kate sat back in her chair. "I run track and jog a lot."

"Huh?"

"That's how I stay in shape," Kate said. "Now go spend some time with her."

I removed myself from the chair. After walking a couple of feet on the hot concrete, I was sorry I left my flip-flops behind. Tiffany gave me a great big smile when she saw me coming. She patted the place next to her. I eased myself down on the edge of the pool. Then Tiffany put her arm around my shoulder.

"Done with your tanning princess?" Tiffany asked in a smug tone.

"For now," I replied, playing along with her.

"This is my best friend Bailey," Tiffany said to the other girl. "She won't be going to the same school, but maybe we can all hang out some time."

"I'd like that," the other girl responded. "I'm Tracy." She wormed her hand around Tiffany's side and across her midsection.

I took Tracy's hand and shook it gently. "Nice to meet you," I said. Then I thought for a moment of how I could sell the illusion. "Maybe we can all go shopping?"

"Okay with me," Tiffany said, showing me a big grin.

"I'd like that," Tracy said.

"Tracy is Rebecca's sister," Tiffany said.

"Oh," I said. "Well you all have a nice house here."

"Thanks," Tracy said. "They'll be shooting the fireworks off almost over our house."

"It looks really pretty over the pool," Tiffany said.

"I bet," I said. "Can't wait to see it."

The smell of chlorine and sunscreen tickled my nostrils as we sat on the edge of the pool. I kicked my feet in the water as Tiffany and Tracy shared small chat. Tracy wasn't extremely attractive, but she wasn't ugly. It's just that she wasn't my type. She looked a little pudgy like her sister, which didn't bother me, but she had straight red hair and freckles. I didn't mind the red hair so much, but I just wasn't into freckles. Eventually Tracy left us alone and went over to talk to some other girls.

"Are you having fun?" Tiffany asked.

"I'm hot, but I'm having fun," I said.

"Tracy wanted to know if I wanted to go to her birthday party in a couple of weeks." Tiffany took her arm off of my shoulder. "I was wondering if you wanted to go as Bailey?"

"I don't know," I said. "I mean I wouldn't mind doing it, but with my family and all."

"I understand," Tiffany said. "Too bad you have to deal with that."

"Yeah," I said. "Would've been a lot more fun if I could just go without questioning."

"I'm having fun too," she said. "But it's way too hot."

"To be honest, I kind of like being Bailey," I said. "But if I get caught, it's all over."

"Don't get caught!" She patted my arm. "It's not worth it."

"Anyway," she said. "That's your swimsuit for the rest of the summer. You're too cute in it."

I looked at her shaking my head. "I think I'll have to pass."

"You'll probably reconsider once you see the tan line you're getting today."

"My gosh, I didn't even think about that." I started to shift my body around uncomfortably. "What am I going to tell my parents?"

"Relax," Tiffany said. "We'll figure something out. Just don't make a scene."

"Tom's gonna kill me."

"Maybe you can tan tomorrow in my backyard," Tiffany said. "You did say you could spend the night."

"You really think your parents will let a boy spend the night?"

"Not a boy," Tiffany said. "Bailey."

"Oh," I said reluctantly. "Right."

"It'll be fine," Tiffany said. "Now let's swim!"

Tiffany pushed off of the edge of the pool. She splashed into the water, sending some of it onto me. For a moment I sat frozen, like I was mad she splashed me. It was such a girly thing to do, and I had no idea why I did it. The thought didn't stay with me long, as I quickly followed Tiffany into the pool. I pushed off of the edge and fell toward the rippling water.

The instant coolness of the water woke me up. I felt alive as I found myself below the water's surface. The water felt great after being cooked under the hot sun. When I rose back above water, I saw Tiffany next to me. She pushed her hair back out of her face, and then looked at me with a satisfied smile. Then when I pushed my own hair back, her face dropped into a pout.

"Aw," she said. "The water ruined your hair."

"We can fix it later."

"Ooh… can I curl it?"

I gave her a playfully angry look, then splashed her. She laughed and splashed me back. Then she swam away, and I gave chase. It didn't take me long to catch up to her, and when I did I got a hold of her right ankle. Tiffany tried to kick away, but I pulled her back to me. I managed to get my arm around her left knee and pull her under. Beneath the water, we pushed and pulled at each other, until eventually we had to come up for air.

We enjoyed our time together in the pool. At one point we raced each other across the pool and back. Tiffany beat me by quite a bit, but I didn't seem to mind. In all honesty I wasn't much of a swimmer, or really much of anything when it came to athletics. Since I had no desire to become an athlete, it kept me focused on school work. Though really not hard to do, I managed to get through sixth grade with only one grade lower than an A. Ironically it happened to be a B in sixth grade gym, the year they decided to start grading kids on the extra curricular classes.

Other girls went in and out of the pool, but for the most part Tiffany and I stayed near each other. We stayed in the pool for a long time that afternoon. Several times Tiffany made it a point to "innocently" rub up against me. We both knew we couldn't take it beyond that, as we were in front of about twenty girls. I think it was around five in the afternoon when we finally got out. Tiffany wanted a little more sun, and I figured I could dry off in the chair next to her. I followed her out of the pool.

I slipped into the lounge chair face down. My back met the Summer sun and eagerly soaked in the warmth. Only a few hours remained until the fireworks started. I could feel the coolness of the water on my bare skin start to disappear. Time ticked away so slowly, and my mind tried to wrap around the concept of being my girlfriend's girl friend part time. When I thought about it, I admit I got a little excited. It seemed like a challenge.

Tiffany had pulled her hair up, to get sun on her neck and shoulders. She really did look cute. Her innocent face beamed in the sunlight. While not exactly matching her sister's form, I noticed her backside was pretty nice. In a few years Tiffany would basically be Kate. If I could manage to stick with her that long, it would be more than worth it. Kate was right.

"What?" Tiffany's eyes had opened to see me staring at her.

"You're so pretty," I said, quiet enough so that she could only hear me.

Tiffany smiled. "You are too," she said.

"Would you be happy with only one side of me?"

"Yes," Tiffany said. "Either side." She winked at me, and then turned over onto her back.

I pushed myself over on the lounge chair. Tiffany had her eyes closed. I decided to let her enjoy herself, and stay quiet. As I basked beneath the sun, I thought of the way Kate had been sitting earlier. I mimicked her, and slid my right foot back. I figured it must do something to enhance the tan. So there I sat, with my right knee slightly bent, tanning beneath the setting sun.

After several minutes passed, Tiffany grabbed my wrist. She wormed her hand down into mine as my eyes opened. When I saw her sitting up and tugging at my hand, I assumed she wanted to go back to the pool. She pulled at me long enough to get me to sit up. Then she leaned forward. She stood and took my other hand, essentially pulling me to my feet. I shifted my weight on the warm concrete beneath me.

"What is it?"

"Just come with me," Tiffany said.

"Where?"

"Come on!" She gave me an excited look.

I started to slip my feet into the flip-flops, but she pulled me away from them.

"Leave them," she said. "We'll be back."

Tiffany tugged me over to a small stall, between the pool and the house. Before I could say anything, she pulled me inside of it. She hit a button to activate a shower, and we both jumped when the freezing cold water hit us. By the time I had stopped shivering and screaming like a girl, Tiffany had the temperature of the water a little warmer, though not hot. She pulled me up close to her, under the shower jet. Then I felt her hands on my shoulders, and she put her forehead against mine.

"Just relax," she said. "Nobody can see us here."

Her hands slid down my arms. The water allowed her actions to be fluid. I pushed my face under the cascading water. My eyes were shut when Tiffany's hands reached mine. I suddenly felt a bit nervous, as she lifted my hands and placed them on her hips. While the chlorine washed out of my hair, I opened my eyes and stared at our feet. I tried to tune out everything but the feelings around me at the moment.

"I really appreciate what you did today," Tiffany said softly.

"I'm just glad you had a nice time."

"I still am."

Tiffany's head tilted upward, nudging my own head up to face her neck. I soon felt her soft lips on my forehead. My typical boy instincts filled me with excitement at her touch. Though another side of me fought to keep control. If I revealed my true identity, I would be deemed a pervert, and probably the whole town would hear about tonight. I felt her hands run up the front of my swimsuit. They stopped on my chest.

"Are you having fun?" Tiffany asked.

"Perhaps a bit more now," I admitted.

She started to grope and massage my chest, as if I had breasts underneath. In response I released a long breath across her neck. She reacted to this by running her hands up into my hair. I felt her give me a gentle tug. My head lifted to where I looked at her eye to eye. Our lips met.

Water tumbled down our faces. It rolled down our noses and around our lips. Breathing became difficult. We pulled away, only to take a breath. Then we were back to kissing. Though we both knew there was definitely something beyond this point, neither one of us seemed sure how to get there. All we had ever done was kiss. So kiss we did.

Soon my hands were inching up the back of Tiffany's swimsuit. I got to her shoulders and simply held her. She had dropped her hands down to my bottom. As I brought my hands around to her front, my eyes opened to peek where they were at. When my hands moved over Tiffany's breasts, her eyes shot open. She pulled away from our kiss to take a breath. I thought for sure she would chew me out when I started to massage her small mounds, but instead she moaned quietly. Then her eyes shut, and her lips were back on mine.

I continued to massage Tiffany's breasts as we kissed. She started to play with the back of my swimsuit. More directly, it was the edge of the leg holes in back. Eventually she wormed a few fingers in between the swimsuit and my bottom. Then she pushed both of her hands in. Tiffany did a half giggle and half moan when I shifted uncomfortably.

I jumped when she clamped her hands down on my butt cheeks. She started to squeeze my bottom, and pull it apart. I could feel the material of the swimsuit filling the void of my crack. She kept going until it felt like I had on a thong. Our kiss broke again. After a quick breath of air, she pulled me closer and put her lips next to my left ear.

"Careful," she whispered. "They're a little sore."

My hands eased up on her breasts. Instead of groping them, I ran my thumbs around them in circles. She seemed to enjoy this, or so I thought. Either her light moans were from pleasure or pain. Regardless, her fingers began to inch their way closer and closer to the tip of my penis. It still sat tucked away between my legs.

Tiffany gripped my bottom hard. She pushed her lips against mine in another passionate kiss. I had never seen her like this before. She pulled me forward, and at the same time she thrust forward. Her pelvis hit solidly against mine. Unfortunately my testicles had gotten caught between, as I had pushed them back up inside of me. I figured it would look better that way.

I moaned loudly against Tiffany's kiss. She read it as pleasure, rather than pain. So she did it again, and again she misread my moan. I pulled away for air. Before I could say something to her, she locked her lips onto mine. She bumped her pelvis against mine several more times. On the last one, she held against me tightly. Soon her pelvis was moving side to side as she grinded against me.

What had been at first a wincing pain, now subsided into a numbness somewhere between pleasure and pain. It felt like I had been racked right after, and right before, the most pleasurable thing I'd experienced in my life. I couldn't blame Tiffany. She didn't know. There wasn't any way she could've known she had racked me about ten times. For all she knew, she had been exciting me.

I worked through it. My mind started to focus on other things. Though none of it felt as charged as it was before. We continued to kiss. I moved my hands back around to rub her back. This made her almost purr, which intrigued me. Her fingers began to inch closer to the head of my penis again. In a few short seconds she would be touching it for the first time.

"Food will be served soon!" Mrs. Young's voice rang out from nowhere. "Then we'll all come out to the pool area for fireworks!"

Tiffany's hands froze. Another half of an inch and she would've made contact. We both sighed in frustration, and broke our kiss. I felt her hands slip from under my swimsuit. Then she quickly pulled it back out to cover my bottom. After a few quick pecks on the lips, we both dropped our hands to our sides. Her forehead fell gently against mine.

"Can you…" Tiffany put her hands back up on my chest. "Can Bailey stay the night?"

I finally started to see signs of confusion in Tiffany. I'd only assumed she had wrapped her mind around this more than I had. However, she had been taking this step by step like I had been. She didn't plan this. I didn't plan this. Not even her sister planned this. It had just happened. Now she had trouble figuring out which side of me she was with.

"If you have something for her to sleep in," I said.

"She can sleep in my bed."

Tiffany raised her head to reveal a mischievous grin. She spun me around, and hit the knob on the shower over to cold. I started to scream, but she quickly slapped her hand over my mouth. Ice cold water cascaded down my front. It eased the dull pain in my abdomen, and effectively froze my lust for Tiffany. I danced around in it for a few moments, until Tiffany put her head on my shoulder.

"Bailey better behave if she stays over," Tiffany whispered in my ear. "I can't have her jumping me in the middle of the night." She uncovered my mouth.

"That goes for you too!"

I grabbed Tiffany, and swung her around into the cold water. Her mouth flew open, but she quickly covered it herself. She did an encore of the same cold water dance I had performed. In the process she managed to swat me a few times. Then she started to miss. Eventually she gave up and started to let the shower calm her down a bit. I came over and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. She pushed me away.

Tiffany hit the shower off, and squeezed the excess water from her hair. I took it as a cue to do the same. Part of me felt relieved we had ended it where we ended it. I knew for sure that I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. Though I couldn't read minds, I was pretty sure Tiffany didn't know what she was doing either. Both of us needed to cool down. I wondered if we could control ourselves later.

She pushed me through the door to the outside. We both exited, the whole time trying to contain our laughter. I was greeted outside by an older girl walking toward the stall. Part of me hoped we didn't keep her waiting, while the other part didn't care. We got to our chairs and Tiffany pushed my towel into my hands. I mimicked her moves to dry my hair. She patted herself dry, and I followed suit. Then I slipped my borrowed shorts and flip-flops on.

Tiffany pulled her lipstick from the bag, and waved me forward with her index finger. So I stepped over to her as she held up the lipstick. I watched her curiously, as she popped the cap, and twisted the waxy substance up in the tube. She put a light application on my lips, and then handed the tube to me. When she puckered up, I knew she wanted me to put it on her. I held the tube up to her lips.

The whole time I put the lipstick on her lips, Tiffany looked me in the eyes. Her entire demeanor seemed to be comprised of fascination, love, a hint of lust, and probably more questions than could ever be answered. From our own little secret ritual to tonight, something had changed. Tiffany liked some aspect of me dressed like a girl, and though she admitted she liked the plain Zachary side of me too, it didn't show much. I decided to wait and see. It had only been a week.

Inside, Mrs. Young had set the table with everything ranging from cold cuts to carrot sticks. It essentially was an enormous buffet. I settled on a ham and cheese sandwich, with some watermelon. She even had it setup to where we could make our own salads. I chose to have a small salad, carrot sticks and celery with some ranch dressing. Truth be told, the other girls ate more than I did that night.

I ate mostly in silence. The other girls gabbed back and forth. Usually bursts of conversation came during repeat trips to the table. I did go back for some more watermelon and a few cookies. There was just so much food there, I almost felt guilty not eating more of it. I swear to this day that Tiffany ate her weight in watermelon and tomatoes. She kept going back to nab them from the table.

We spent probably a good hour or two inside eating. Eventually Mrs. Young nudged us outside for the show. The lights had been turned on in the pool. It looked nice and peaceful with the glow rippling along the water. Most of the girls wanted to stay by the pool in the chairs, but some of them wandered over to the grass. I felt someone come up behind me, and realized it was Tiffany. She handed me a stick of gum.

"Do you want to go over there?" Tiffany asked.

I put the gum in my mouth as I looked to where she was pointing. It was a somewhat dark and secluded spot off to the side. I nodded to her. She walked over to grab a large towel, and came back to me. Then she grabbed my hand and hurried me off to the grassy spot. I nearly tripped on the flip-flops, because of her hurrying me.

Tiffany spread the large towel out over the grass. She situated it somewhat uphill so we could sit back and watch the fireworks. Then she kicked off her sandals and fell to her knees on the towel. I kicked off my own sandals. She tugged at the towel hanging from my shoulders. I gracefully went down onto my knees facing her.

"We got a few minutes before they start," Tiffany said. She sat back and put her legs out in front of her.

"What do you want to do?" I lowered my bottom down onto my heels, but continued to kneel next to her.

"We can talk," she said. "Did you have fun?"

"I can honestly say I did." I leaned forward a bit. "Even before the shower."

"I had a lot of fun too." She glanced around. "I didn't know how you'd respond to the whole swimsuit and pool idea."

"Well…" I moved over closer to her, deciding to put my legs out in front of me. "I'm really confused about all of this."

"Like about what?" Tiffany scooted even closer to me. We sat facing each other with our legs sticking out opposite ways. "What do you mean?"

"I can't decide," I said. "I mean… I don't know how to explain it." A nervous laugh followed. "Maybe it's just me."

"You can tell me," she said. "I want you to."

"Well I was thinking it wouldn't be horrible…" I stopped to look around. "It wouldn't be horrible if my stepfather actually forced me to be Bailey."

"You want to be forced?"

"No," I said, retracting a bit in disgust. "That's not what I mean."

"You don't think I'm forcing you do you?"

I put my hand on Tiffany's leg. "Not at all."

"Okay. That's good," Tiffany said. "Because if you want to stop, we'll stop right now."

"We don't have to," I said.

"I won't be mad," Tiffany said. "Just tell me to stop and we'll stop."

"I…" My head lowered. "That's just it." I looked at Tiffany with every bit of confusion I could show on my face. "I don't want to stop. At least not around you."

"Eventually it'll have to," Tiffany said. She glanced around. "I mean you'll become a man, and after that…" She put her hand on my knee. "I never expected it to last forever."

"I know…" I pulled at the grass. "I just wish I could be more free with it now."

"We could have a ton of fun if you didn't have Tom on your back about it."

"He thinks I want to be a woman," I said quietly. "Just because I put on the clothes."

"Maybe we should stop," she said. "Before things get complicated."

"After tonight?"

"Of course!" she said. "Bailey already agreed to stay the night."

"That she did." I smiled at Tiffany.

"Too bad," she said. "You make a really cute girl."

Tiffany swung her feet around. I moved out of her way, so she could put her head down about where my knees were. Then I crawled around her. Eventually I situated myself to where we were lying next to each other. She shifted around on the blanket. I could feel the warmth of her body getting closer. For a moment I thought she was going to snuggle with me, but instead she settled her body at an angle away from me. Our shoulders touched, and when we leaned our heads in, they rested against each other.

"I love you Tiffany," I whispered.

"I love you too." She turned toward me slightly. "Both of you."

Soon brilliant colors were bursting in the air. Shapes ranging from stars to umbrellas of sparkling light flashed before my eyes. The thunderous explosions of each followed shortly after. As the night sky filled with smoke and fireworks, Tiffany wormed her hand into mine. We held each other's hands tightly through the entire show. I was happy to be with her, and even more so when I knew she was happy to be with me. For now it didn't matter to her which "me" I happened to be.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 4

I could hardly sleep. Tiffany's arms held fast around me in a loving embrace. She felt so warm and so soft. The moon seeped through her window and lit up her angelic face. Her hazel eyes were shut in such a way where I knew there was contentment behind them. Every so often her smooth brow would twitch into a furrow, pulling her thin eyebrows down as she dreamed of things I could only guess about. Beneath her small straight nose, her pouty lips would part every once in awhile like she wanted to speak.

Several times I wanted to kiss those lips, but I feared waking her up. She obviously wasn't a light sleeper, as I had been running my fingers through her silky black hair for about an hour. At least she slept through that. I didn't want to wake her. Even though I had a ton of questions running through my mind, I simply wanted to watch her sleep. Her bare foot rubbed up my bare leg.

A few hours earlier we had returned from an all girl Fourth of July pool party. I managed to survive being Bailey for the party, with merely a swimsuit as my cover. In all honesty, nobody really paid much attention to Tiffany and I, as we hardly fit in with the older girls there. They were all Kate's crowd; Tiffany's older sister. The fireworks show at the high school was spectacular, and I enjoyed watching them with Tiffany. However, when we got back to her place, I started to feel a bit nervous about staying the night.

Tiffany took the first shower, giving me time to call my mother. I'd spoken to my mother twice that evening. Once to get permission to go to the party, and the other call to get permission to stay the night. Initially it had been my mother's idea to let me stay the night. When I called her back she seemed a bit reluctant, but still allowed me to stay. Her lecture on how to behave was nearly as long as Tiffany's shower.

I have to admit I was a bit shocked when Tiffany came back in the room wearing only her towel from the shower. She had the fluffy, dark red cotton rectangle wrapped tightly around her chest and dangling at her knees. Granted I had just spent the entire evening with her in less material, but it still shocked me. She closed the door to her room with the only audible sound being the click of her lock. Then she spun around to face me.

"Did your mom okay it?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "She gave me a long lecture about it, but she said it would be okay."

"I've been thinking all night of some way I could repay you," Tiffany said.

"You really don't have to," I said. "I had fun."

"I want to."

Tiffany moved her hands up toward the top of her towel. She pulled at the tight roll holding the towel on her body. After pulling it loose, she held the towel in place. Only her grip on the top of the towel kept it from cascading away from her body. She took a step forward. Her foot sank into the plush carpet. She took another step.

Each step she took toward me sent my heart racing more and more. I thought it would leap from my chest when she got within a step of me. She reached out and tugged at the white knit shorts around my waist. I took the hint and dropped them to the floor. Tiffany coaxed me to take a step forward out of the shorts. She reached up with her free hand, and pushed it gently onto my chest.

Do you think you can handle this?" she asked in a hushed voice.

I lifted both of my hands up to hers. Her hand was warm on top of the swimsuit material; the dark red swimsuit she had let me borrow to be Bailey. I placed my hands over her hand, and held it tightly against my chest. My heart pounded. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them I stared into her eyes. After a few calm breaths, I nodded.

"This only goes as far as I want it to," Tiffany said. "I want to do this, but if you step out of line, it's over." She lowered her eyebrows. "Understand?"

"I understand," I managed to choke out.

"I love you Zachary," she said.

"I love you too."

In all honesty, I didn't have a damn clue what love meant at the age of twelve. At least I didn't know what it meant on that level. I loved my mom and my brother. Tom could go trip into a dark hole for all I cared. I loved my goldfish when I was nine, but it died. Hell, I even loved some of my toys, and especially my bike. Yet this kind of love threw me for a loop. Maybe Tiffany knew more about what was going on than I did, but I still loved her with what I knew of love at that age.

Her towel slipped from her fingertips. It cascaded down her body into a pool at her feet. For a long moment I continued to stare straight ahead. The safest spot to look was at her face. She seemed timid, but also showed signs of the deepest sincerity. It was a look that eluded me at the time, but one I grew to understand completely as I grew older. When she reached out and pulled my right hand to her chest, I found her heart racing too. In fact, it was nearly beating with mine.

"Well?"

I continued to look into her eyes. "I'm not sure what to do," I said nervously.

Tiffany smiled, letting out a tense breath. "You can start by looking."

For some reason I felt like the only one not experienced in this area of life. My eyes drifted slowly away from their locked stare into Tiffany's eyes. I could see her tan starting to come in from the day. The area covered by her one piece swimsuit contrasted heavily with the darkened skin. Her breasts were pale white except for the dark pink areas around her nipples. I continued my exploratory gaze down past her belly button, which sat amidst smooth white flesh.

Half of me was scared to continue on down her body, but I felt a strong sense of curiosity weighing on the other half. Our "sex education class" in sixth grade was a somewhat informal half hour lecture by some doctor. We were split into two rooms with girls in one and boys in the other. So the entire lecture was about how boys would change on our side, leaving us clueless to anything else. While thinking about all of this, my eyes had settled on Tiffany's pubic area.

"You're beautiful," I said, as my eyes came back up slowly to meet hers.

"Thank you…" She took both of my hands in hers. "I was so scared to do this, but I wanted to show you." She hung her head down. "It sounds stupid doesn't it?"

"No," I said, "but you didn't have to…"

"I just wanted to show you something special," she said. "Because you've shown me something special about yourself."

"Well I think you're pretty special."

Tiffany's head shot upward. "Things like that," she said. "You're kind and sensitive. Not like the other boys our age." A smile grew on her face, which ended somewhere between cheery and content.

"I'm just being honest."

Tiffany threw her arms around me. As we held each other in a tight embrace, I felt a little uneasy. I could feel her warm body against mine, with only a thin piece of nylon and spandex between us. Instead of my hands holding some type of cloth, they held her naked flesh. I couldn't help, but to run my hands down her back. Before I could reach her bottom, she pulled away from me.

"Maybe we should get dressed," Tiffany said.

My hands jerked away from her. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Tiffany said, assuring me with a kind smile. "I just don't know how much privacy we'll have. You can watch if you want."

"Watch you dress?"

"Sure," she said. "Why not? Women even used to help each other dress in the old days. How do you think they got each other into corsets?" She stepped over to her dresser. "Do you wanna help me dress?"

My mind was far from corsets and women helping other women dress. I stared at her smooth bottom bouncing as she walked. Somehow she had managed to get a little sun on it, so the lower part of her cheeks were tan. I figured she pulled her suit up a bit to get that effect. Then I realized she did that on me while I was first tanning. I made a mental note to check out the tan line damage in her bathroom mirror.

"It's not polite to stare," Tiffany said.

I looked up to notice her looking back at me over her shoulder. "Sorry," I said. "You're just cute back there too." My lips worked into a nervous smile.

"Well enjoy it while it lasts," she said, turning back to the dresser. "Might be awhile 'til I show it again." She started to rummage through the drawers. "Did you want to help me dress?"

"I guess so," I said, with the confidence of a ninety pound sumo wrestler.

She turned around abruptly. My eyes, which were fixated on her round bottom, now locked onto her pubic area. Something about it felt more forbidden. I decided that maybe it wasn't polite to stare after all, and my eyes started dancing around frantically. She noticed. Her hands fell to her hips.

"What?" She looked at me. "You can stare at my backside, but not the front?"

"I…" My eyes met hers. "It's just…"

"Have you ever seen one before?"

"No," I said. "I mean I've seen those weird diagrams at the doctor…"

"Weird?"

"Well, the area isn't weird." I glanced down again. "I meant the diagrams…" I looked back up at her. "You know what I mean."

"I do," she said, with a light giggle. She looked down. "It's called a vulva." She raised her head slightly. "And to be completely honest, I haven't seen… you know…" Her eyes hinted at my groin.

"Really?"

"Uh… yeah! Really! I wouldn't have said it if I had." Her sarcasm seemed distasteful, but lightened the mood.

"Do you want to?" I asked.

"Probably best if we didn't right now." She held up a pair of pale pink panties. "If you don't feel comfortable, you can watch."

"No," I choked out. "I can help you."

"Well come here then."

Tiffany enticed me to come to her with her index finger. After a few nervous steps forward, she stopped me. She pushed the panties into my hand. We both stood there in silence. Finally she gave a dramatic sigh and acted like her patience with me had run out. I didn't know what to do. She offered no suggestions either.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked quietly.

"Dress me!" she said.

I held out the panties in front of me at about waist level. Tiffany shook her head. She held out her hand with her palm facing out. I stood there ignorantly as she studied her nails. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. Then she turned her head to look at me straight on. She put her hand up to flip her hair out.

"Dress me like you would a princess," Tiffany said, feigning dramatic disinterest in me. "Like you're my chambermaid." She then pointed down at her feet.

"Oh!" I finally caught on to the little game we were playing. "I'm sorry… your highness."

"That's better," she said with a pleasant smile. "Now attend to your duties."

Most people would think Tiffany and I were nuts, but I rather enjoyed the little make believe games we played. I was always slow to catch on to when Tiffany switched to role-playing mode, but never unwilling to participate. The first time I dressed as Bailey at her house, she acted like a fashionista during the photos. There were other times we'd just randomly pick a part to play and go with it. I think most of the time Tiffany used it in uncomfortable situations to take our minds away from the more serious surroundings.

My knees sank into the plush gray carpet. I moved the panties toward her feet, but didn't hold them out for her to step into. Instead, I lowered myself even more and hovered my lips over her feet. Then with all the consideration I could muster, I lowered my lips onto the top of her left foot. I left a lingering kiss on the top of her arch, and then repeated it on her right foot. Afterwards I pulled back, and held out the panties for her to step into.

"You please me chambermaid," Tiffany said above me. "Perhaps I shall allow you to warm my bed tonight."

I looked up at her, trying hard to sustain my composure. Tiffany on the other hand appeared to be fighting back laughter. She reached down and patted my head. I almost laughed, but then looked back to the task at hand. Carefully I lifted the panties up her legs. My fingers grazed gently against her soft skin. They passed her knees.

About the time I reached her upper thighs with the panties, she put her hand down to stop me. I tried to look back up at her, but she held my head to where I stared straight ahead at her vulva. The smooth mound between her legs seemed a bit puffy now. I really hadn't noticed it before, but then again hadn't been looking too intently. Now I became even more curious.

"Do you think it's cute too?" Tiffany asked.

"Very," I said. "Not like what I have."

"And do you find the backside to your liking as well?" Tiffany turned in front of me, pushing her bare bottom close to my face.

"Yes princess," I said.

"You may kiss it if you like."

Truthfully I hadn't even thought of kissing it. I thought I would sit and stare at it for awhile. Then when I had sufficiently burned a mental image into my brain, I could finish putting Tiffany's panties on. However, Tiffany asked me to kiss it. She wanted me to show it affection. I still couldn't process this all in my young mind, but I decided to fulfill her request.

Gracefully I let my head fall toward her, and my lips fell soundly upon the left cheek of her backside. I believe at that moment I thought this was the thing my mother told me not to engage in, though she hadn't come out and said it in exact terms. Tiffany let out a soft moan when I made contact. I pushed my lips gently against her soft, yet firm bottom, and gave her a lingering kiss.

In fact, she allowed me to plant several lingering kisses on her bottom. I must have covered her backside with around twenty kisses. Eventually she put her hands on mine, and helped me pull up her panties the rest of the way. They stretched nicely across her tight bottom. I instantly drew a comparison of her bottom to Kate's bottom. Tiffany was already growing into her sister.

While I knelt behind Tiffany, looking at her bottom, she pulled out a flimsy pair of sleep shorts from the dresser drawer. She carefully turned to face me, and handed the item of clothing down to me. The shorts were a deep green color, and made almost entirely of satin. When I lowered them to Tiffany's feet she wouldn't step into them. I instantly figured out what she wanted, and lowered my face to give her another kiss on each foot.

"You're learning fast," Tiffany said, with a hint of laughter in her voice.

She stepped her left foot into the shorts, and then her right. The satin material glided up her legs. Without stopping, she allowed me to pull them all the way up. The elastic band stretched snugly across her hips, about three inches below her bellybutton. She patted me on the head again, and I looked up at her. Then she coaxed me to stand. While I stood, Tiffany had turned back to the dresser.

She turned back quickly. Her small breasts settled in front of my eyes. Though I didn't know cup sizes at all back then, I clearly know now that she was about halfway to an A cup. There definitely seemed to be an evident display of growth. I thought I had noticed it the other day, but now I was absolutely sure of it. Some tiny little part of me envied her breasts growing. Before long I wouldn't be able to easily pass next to her. She put a slinky top in my hands, the same color as the shorts. Then she held her arms out in front of her.

"Maybe I can teach you to pick out my outfits for me, and I won't have to work at all."

"Right," I said. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind me coming over every day to dress you."

We both shared a small laugh as I slid the top over her arms. I lifted it over her head, and she braced herself by putting her arms on my shoulders. The top fell gently over her body. It nearly met the top of the shorts, but left a bit of skin showing with her arms up. Her clothes felt so slick and slippery. I wanted to rub up against her, but I contained myself.

Tiffany crossed her arms behind my head, and leaned closer to me. I put my hands on her waist. Then I put my lips on her lips. For a small moment we kissed. She playfully rubbed her nose against mine, and then embraced me in a light hug, trying not to get her clean clothes against my swimsuit. Her hair, half dry and half wet, felt soft against my cheek. I wanted to hold her forever, but she pulled away too soon for my taste.

"I put a new toothbrush in the bathroom. You can wear the clothes I left in there," she said. "They're like these only blue."

"What about this?" I pulled on the swimsuit.

"You can leave it over the shower." She walked over and collected her towel from the floor. "There's all kinds of soap and shampoo in there. Just find what you like." She pushed the towel into my hand. "Take this with you please. Act like it's yours if anyone stops you."

"Sure no problem," I said.

"When you're done, come to Kate's room."

"Why?"

"She has all of those pictures we took on her computer," Tiffany said. "Thought you might want to see them."

"Oh!" I said. "I would actually."

"Go!" Tiffany said, walking over to unlock the door. "I have to talk to Kate about something."

Tiffany opened the door and let me out. I could hear a few voices coming from the living room. Apparently some of the guests stayed a bit later than others. Probably they had drank a bit too much, and were waiting to sober up for the ride home.

After checking to see if the coast was clear, I stepped out into the hallway. I heard soft music coming from Kate's room, and a blow-dryer. Tiffany slipped into Kate's room, and shut the door. Suddenly I heard a loud voice behind me.

"You lost?"

I turned to see Tiffany's dad at the end of the hallway. "I was just getting a towel from Tiff," I managed to squeak out. "She gave me something to sleep in too."

"Ah okay," he said. "So you all set then?"

"All set." I smiled. The poor guy was drunk, but a happy drunk at least. I imagined him seeing double of me, one side Bailey and the other side Zachary. "How was your night?"

"Oh… great!" he bellowed. "You girls have fun at the pool?"

"We had a blast."

"I'm glad you girls had fun," he said. "The hot on the shower sticks sometimes. I dunno if they told you, but fair warning so you don't burn yourself."

"Thanks," I said. "They did mention it."

He nodded a moment after processing what I said. "Well have fun, but don't stay up too late." He turned to walk toward the living room.

"Goodnight Mr. Stewart."

"Night…" He turned to give me a confused look.

"Bailey," I said.

"Right Bailey," he said. "Like the drink." He laughed to himself. "Baileys Irish Cream?" He smiled as he turned and walked off.

I rushed into the bathroom before anyone else could stop me in the hallway. All I needed was someone sober to corner me into a conversation, and they'd eventually figure out I wasn't a little girl. My mind seemed a bit rattled at the moment anyway. I pushed the door closed, and locked it quickly. Tiffany's towel dropped from my hand into a hamper near the door.

Their bathroom dwarfed the one at my house. It had two sinks, side by side, and a large mirror as long as the countertop. The toilet even had it's own private area in the corner, sort of like a stall in a public restroom. I figured for two girls getting ready in the morning, the bathroom seemed ideal.

They kept everything decorated in a dark red, with large velvety bath rugs over the tile floor. My favorite feature of the entire room happened to be the shower. Though they didn't have a bathtub, they had a large tiled shower. It came complete with an area to sit, large enough to curl up on and read a book. Tiffany sometimes called it a steam room.

I saw a pink razor sitting on one of the ledges, and imagined Kate sitting in the shower and shaving her legs. Then I imagined Tiffany soon shaving hers. Hell, the shower was big enough that I could've stood in it and watched without getting wet. For some reason I even thought about shaving my own some day. I turned to the mirror.

No wonder their dad still thought I was a girl. What boy in their right mind would paint his nails, throw on a one piece swimsuit, and pretty their lips up with lipstick? Furthermore, that boy would have to be insane to sit out in the sun all day and tan in that swimsuit. I must've been insane, because I did all of it. Not to mention my tan had turned out incredibly dark.

So dark, in fact, I started to panic. Even if I tanned in the morning, it wasn't a usual tan for me. When I tanned, it was a farmers tan, and fairly light. I seldom had my shirt off unless I went swimming. Though I did go swimming, my stepfather didn't know. Tom would think something was up if all of me showed up tanned as well. He'd wonder why I would take my shirt off at a cookout.

Yet I had to tan. If I revealed the tan line of a swimsuit to Tom, he'd be madder than hell. The more I had to worry about him, the less enjoyable this all became for me. I reached up, prepared to pull the straps of the swimsuit away from my shoulders. Suddenly I felt nervous tension ball up inside of me. As I pulled the swimsuit off, I felt a bit of relief. The tan wasn't as bad as I built it up in my own mind. It was nothing another thirty minutes of sun wouldn't cure. I just had to be careful not to burn.

I peeled the swimsuit down to my hips. Curiosity made me turn to look at my back. It looked like a mirror image of the front, but the back scooped in a lot lower. I was glad I moved my hair out of the way like Tiffany did. At least I got the tan up my neck. This could be fixed. I turned back around. It could all be fixed.

The sun did a number on my hair as well. I started the day with my normal dirty blonde hair. Now it had turned about three shades lighter. It did that any time I was outside in the sun for awhile. Not that I minded. I liked the unique quality of my hair. However, with my tan and the way my hair stood, I looked like one of those beach bunnies who sat for hours by the surf.

I pushed the swimsuit down past my knees, and stepped out of it. My tan resembled Tiffany's almost exactly. In fact, I looked like a girl with the exception of the male genitalia now falling back into place. Soreness crept into my scrotum along with the area Tiffany had banged up against in the shower earlier. I ran my hands over the area and found a slight bruise starting. When I rubbed my testes gently, I felt a dulling pain spread up my abdomen. I decided not to touch them again.

I removed myself from the passive gaze of the mirror. Scooping up the swimsuit, I walked to the shower and flipped it over the top. After a quick trip to the stool to relieve myself, I stepped into the shower. I closed the large fake glass door of the shower. The water came on warm. My head drooped, and my eyes closed as the water rolled down my body.

They had a ton of body washes in the shower, but the only bar of soap I found was Dove. It smelled alright, so I decided to use it. I instantly loved the silky feel it gave my skin. Growing up in a house of three guys and one woman, the only soap I knew was Dial. I recall in fourth grade we did some soap carving in art, and I begged to get Irish Spring. I thought it would be neat to carve green soap. Well, I got my request for art class, but was still stuck with Dial at home.

My thoughts on soap carried me through the mundane tasks of lathering up and rinsing. Then I stood and stared at the vast array of shampoos. They had everything from Nexus to Herbal Essence. I chose Nexus, as it had a sweet coconut smell. It left me in the mood in which my body and hair reflected. I felt like a girl who had been stranded on a deserted island.

After shutting the shower off, I stepped out into the colder room. Goosebumps lined my body, and I quickly reached for a towel. As I toweled myself dry, my eyes wandered over the outfit Tiffany left for me. It did indeed resemble the one I helped her into earlier. Though it had the same silkiness to its satin material, the color was a pale blue. Along with it were a pair of pale blue panties.

"Am I ever going to not wear panties?" I mumbled to myself.

I tossed the towel over to the hamper. My hands reached for the panties. I lowered them to the floor and put my right foot through one leg hole, and repeated the same with my left foot. They glided slowly up my legs, stopping when I reached my mid thigh. The soreness returned to my abdomen, as I began to handle my testes. I pushed through the pain, deciding I wanted them back up in my body again.

Finally they settled into the cavity above my penis. The pain slowly subsided. I pushed my penis back between my legs, and pulled the panties up the rest of the way. Instantly I noticed they were different. They weren't bikini style like I had bought, and they weren't the full brief like Tiffany's other pair. Instead they sat on my hips, not coming up fully to my waist. The feeling was different, unusual, but not displeasing. I think I still preferred bikini style.

I ran my fingers across the satin shorts. Then I gathered some of the material and rubbed it between my fingers. It felt so soft and slick. I'd never worn anything close to it in my life, and here I was about to sleep in it. I slowly removed the shorts from the towel rack. Stooping over, I held them low enough to step into. I took my time dragging them up my legs.

They felt fantastic. The satin felt cool and fluid, almost like liquid sliding up my legs. When they reached my hips I could feel them gently brush my upper thighs. They had the feeling of covering, but yet not being there. I ran my hands over them. My hands slid across them, gliding from my hips to my backside. I had to wear more.

Luckily the matching top hung delicately within my grasp. It slipped over my head with ease, and flowed down my upper body. Now I felt the full effect of the outfit. The material felt light, slick and soft all at the same time. It didn't cling like cotton. Instead it slid when I moved, gliding across my skin, which was now silky itself from the soap I used.

While I could have stood there all night rubbing myself, I thought maybe Tiffany would miss me. I gathered myself together, and stepped over to the mirror. The small straps of the top failed to cover the inch wide area of white the swimsuit left. I picked up the toothbrush Tiffany had left for me.

As I brushed my teeth I noticed with the lipstick gone, I looked too much like my former self again. Even if I managed to get past a few drunk people tonight, I still might have to deal with their parents in the morning. Granted with my tan and hair lighter, I did slightly look like a different person. If anything, the shock of them realizing it was Zachary, would give me enough time to get a running start.

I spit the toothpaste out. Maybe they wouldn't notice. Maybe, like my mom, they wouldn't care if I was Bailey. I filled up a small Dixie cup with water, and rinsed my mouth out. Then I drank a couple of glasses full of water. With one final look in the mirror, I worked up the courage to exit the bathroom.

The hallway was quiet, and I had no problem slipping into Kate's room. Kate stared intently at her computer monitor. Tiffany, on the other hand, showed her enthusiasm at me walking into the room. She waved me over to them, and patted an empty chair. I walked over and sat down quietly. My back faced the door.

Very few times had I seen Kate not personify femininity. This happened to be one of those times. Her nails were plain. She had no makeup on. Her attire was something my brother would wear to sleep in. It consisted of gray jersey shorts about knee length, and a plain white tank top. The scene honestly surprised me.

"I like this one," Kate said.

Tiffany scooted up to the edge of her chair. I looked at the monitor. The picture on the screen surprised me. It was me. I mean it was me as Bailey, in a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar, a light blue skirt, white tights and strappy white sandals. The makeup Kate had applied to my face, exploded in the picture. It created an image of a young teenage girl, with a sultry look.

"It's about the time Bailey here started to relax and be herself."

I couldn't argue. The next few pictures Kate flicked through, amplified her statement. She wasn't aiming to be cruel, but I literally became Bailey in those pictures. I not only looked like a girl, but my poses were extremely feminine. It worried me a bit. Either I embraced the character of Bailey for the moment, or…

"She really broke out in that last one," Tiffany said.

Kate clicked back one picture. I sat and stared at myself in the monitor. The stance wasn't inspired by anything. Kate hardly gave direction for the photos. I was just being silly that day. My left foot was planted firmly on the floor, barely angled inward at the toe. With my right leg I had turned the knee inward, and kicked my foot up and out sideways. The toe of my right foot dangled about an inch above the floor.

I continued to look at the picture. My left hand tugged down at the hem of the skirt, while my right hand had somehow twirled a lock of hair around two fingers. As I pulled down on the skirt and my hair, my face contorted into a very effeminate pout. What in the world was I thinking at that moment?

"Keep going," Tiffany said.

"They get really good when she starts changing outfits," Kate said.

The pictures got worse, at least for me. They might have seemed to get better if you were looking for keepers. However, from my point of view, they showed a story of a boy slowly turning into a girl. Through each wardrobe change, I became more and more comfortable as Bailey. By the time we reached the outside pictures, you would be hard pressed to find an objective audience to say it wasn't two girls being photographed. No wonder Tom flipped when he saw us running around. He saw me not only dressed as Bailey, but acting as Bailey.

"Wow!" I said quietly.

Kate and Tiffany both turned to look at me.

"What?" Kate asked.

"I'm such a girl…"

Tiffany started laughing.

"I'm serious!" I said, as I turned my head to face them. "I didn't realize how girly I was being that day."

"That's why I was confident you could pull tonight off," Tiffany said.

"Not to sound cruel," Kate said, "but you're really good at being Bailey,"

"I don't think I can do this anymore," I said.

"Why?" Tiffany asked.

"What if I got used to acting like that?"

"Again, not to sound cruel," Kate said, "but you have certain… quirks as Zach."

"Certain quirks?"

"I've been watching you for awhile," Kate said. "You're kind of…"

"Sissy?" I started to became a little belligerent.

"No!" Tiffany said.

"Not at all," Kate said. "There's just some feminine qualities to you."

"And so what if it is sissy," Tiffany said. "It's totally not a bad thing to be that way."

"Yeah," Kate said. "It's hardly a negative thing in my opinion. I mean I personally think it's great." She paused. "It's refreshing."

"Totally!" Tiffany said. "It's what I love about you."

I focused on Tiffany "Are you into girls?"

Kate chuckled, while Tiffany's face got bright red.

"It's okay if you are," I said. "You seem into this though."

"I guess you could say I'm curious," Tiffany said. Her voice got lower. "I've never… you know…" She looked down at the floor. "I thought if I could find some kind of middle ground…"

"Are you serious?" Kate asked, as her laughter slowly subsided.

Tiffany glanced at Kate, and then looked straight at me. "I'm sorry if you feel I dragged you into it."

My thoughts trailed off. I had no place to look. Between the two girls and the monitor, I felt ashamed to look at any of them. I had a girlfriend that loved me, but now I felt I had to be another part of me to be loved. Kate seemed like a counselor on the other side, knowing intimate details about our relationship, but not partaking in it. Then here I was as Bailey, not even able to stand up for myself as a man, or at least a boy. It all felt so humiliating.

"I am so sorry," Tiffany said, while placing her hand on my knee.

"I don't know what to say," I said.

"Well…" Kate spoke up. "We can start with this. Do you like Tiff?"

"Of course!" I took Tiffany's hand in mine. "I love her."

Tiffany smiled, though a tear streamed down her left cheek.

Kate looked at her sister. "Now how do you feel?"

"I…" Tiffany closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her pretty hazel eyes opened. "I think I'm in love with Bailey."

There it was again. That empty feeling filled my stomach. I felt sick, but couldn't act upon it physically. Tiffany held my hand tightly. I could feel the edges of her fingernails in my skin. Fingernails I had painted, and where they led eventually was to this moment right now.

No. I looked down at her feet. This moment started building from the first time I painted her toenails. I knew it for a fact now. Painting a girl's toenails is not something little boys do. It eventually led to them dressing up as little girls. That was the truth I made up in my own mind. I looked at the monitor. Something still had to be said.

"I can't be Bailey," I said, turning to face Tiffany. "Not all the time."

"I think we all know that," Tiffany said with a half smile.

"Well there is a way," Kate said.

"How?" I asked, stunned by her statement.

"What's your stepfather's email address?" She gave me a wicked grin.

"That's not even funny," I said.

"Sorry," Kate said. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Look… I don't know how long this all can last," I said. "Maybe there's little pieces of Bailey in me all the time, but I know I can't be her all the time."

"Then I'll take the little pieces," Tiffany said. "I'll take whatever you want to give me."

"I hope you're planning on waiting a long time for that," Kate said.

Tiffany turned to talk over her shoulder. "I wasn't talking about sex."

"Good!" She turned back to the computer. "The way you two were all over each other tonight, I'm surprised you haven't done it already."

"We're way too young," Tiffany said.

"Honestly," I spoke up, "I'm scared to death of sex."

"Really?" Tiffany asked.

"Yes!" I looked around, unable to focus on anything. "I'm not sure what to do. It scares me."

"You seemed pretty comfortable tonight in the shower," Kate said.

"How did you know about that?" Tiffany asked.

"Oh come on," Kate said, turning to face us. "Two girls disappearing for half an hour is nothing to most people." She turned back to the computer. "But I knew what was up, and I saw you coming out of the shower."

"Not like we went all the way," Tiffany said.

Kate spun around in her chair to face us. "So how far did you go?"

"Well I don't know," Tiffany said. "Quite a ways?"

"Don't look at me," I said. "I have no idea."

"Define quite a ways," Kate said.

Kate laughed at our confusion. Though the entire scene felt completely embarrassing, I felt more comfortable discussing it after. I started to wonder if this is how typical girl chat went. If so, it was a lot more interesting than the conversations I'd had with boys my age. The only problem was, I really had no basis to judge it all on. I was as new to discussing sex, as I was to having it.

"We just made out," I blurted out.

"Well that's not very special," Kate said. "That's something a guy would say."

"I don't know what else to say," I admitted.

"How did it feel?" Kate asked.

Tiffany looked at me. I suppose she expected me to get a crash course in this type of conversation. Maybe she was embarrassed. Then I started to think maybe she didn't know how to engage in this conversation either. I'd thought earlier she maybe had a mature educated view on all of this, but now I wasn't so sure. I decided to take a stab at it.

"It was warm," I said, "and wet." I spoke to Kate, but focused on Tiffany. "The water from the shower made everything so smooth." I tried to recapture the moment in my mind. "Every second of it was exciting. Slow kisses with water cascading down our faces." I closed my eyes. "Everything seemed slow and methodic. Like the shower controlled it all." I opened my eyes again to look at Tiffany. "Gentle, calm… moving together."

"I just got a chill," Tiffany said, letting go of my hand.

"That was really good," Kate said. "A lot better than what you said before."

"Ladies," their mother's voice came from behind me. "I think you all should be getting to bed."

"A few more minutes?" Tiffany pleaded.

"Okay," their mother said, "but only a few."

"I'll get them to sleep," Kate said. "Goodnight mom."

"Goodnight," Tiffany said.

"Goodnight Misses Stewart," I said over my shoulder.

"Goodnight Bailey," she paused. "Girls, I mean it. Not too late."

Kate waited until their mother left, then she tapped my knee. "Tiffany told me about your little dilemma," she said. I watched her get up and go to her dresser. "We have a bit of a dilemma too." She pulled a bundle of material, with a mess of straps hanging from it, out of her middle drawer.

"Dad goes in to work at about nine," Tiffany said. "Mom leaves around ten."

"I have to be at work at three," Kate said. "Which means I need to leave here before two-thirty to drop you off across town."

"So we'll have plenty of time to get you tanned," Tiffany said.

"Right," Kate said. "I think we can get a modest amount of privacy in our backyard."

"So what's the problem?" I asked.

"I desperately want you to tan in a two-piece," Tiffany said.

"What?!" I straightened up. "Why?"

"I think it would look so cute, with the tan lines and all."

Kate held a strappy two-piece swimsuit up.

"See!" Tiffany said. "The thin little straps would look adorable."

"But it would completely defeat the purpose of hiding the fact I tanned in a bikini."

"She's kidding," Kate said, unable to hold back her laughter. "She wanted to see what you'd say."

"I'd say no!"

"This is mine," Kate said. "We'll be tanning with you."

"This one is yours," Tiffany said.

She took another swimsuit bottom from her sister and handed it to me. No surprise, but it happened to be bright neon pink. I unfolded the small bundle of material. They were tiny, and not from lack of material. Though they had very little material to speak of, they looked to be two to three sizes too small. When I pulled on them, however, they had a lot of stretch in them.

"Trust me. They'll fit," Kate said, as if reading my mind. "They're going to be snug, but they're perfect for your situation."

"And just incase someone does happen to stop by," Tiffany said. "Here's the top."

She handed me the other piece. It was bright neon pink as well, but looked like one continuous loop of material. Kate called it a tube top, but I honestly wasn't up to speed on the lingo of female attire at the time. I put the two pieces together, and draped them over my lap. Tiffany got up, took the swimsuit from me, and walked to the door.

"Kate wanted to discuss something with you," Tiffany said. "So I'm going to go finish getting ready for bed, and I'll see you when you're done."

"Okay," I said, with a fair amount of reserve in my voice.

"It won't take long," Kate said to Tiffany.

She closed the door behind her sister. I watched her wander around the room collecting things. My mind tried to find some kind of earthly answer why the door would need to be closed for just talking. Kate didn't seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary either. She finally came over, adjusted her chair, and sat down facing me. When she pulled herself closer to me, I shifted uncomfortably. She placed her hands firmly on my knees. Then she gave me a pleasant smile. I relaxed a little bit.

"Tiff and I had a little wager."

"Oh?"

"I bet her if I dressed like this, you would pay more attention to her."

"I take it you won?" I asked.

"You're a smart little girl," Kate said.

I ignored being called a girl. "What did you win?"

"Well, let's just say you got your little fantasy," Kate said. "I kind of promised the other day, but then your stepfather came and all that."

Kate leaned back and put her left foot up. She squeezed it into the space between my thighs. It finally rested firmly against my trapped penis. Her toes wiggled back and forth. I could hardly sustain my composure. Kate seemed laid-back about the scene. She shook a bottle of clear basecoat, and eventually handed it to me.

"You totally have a foot fetish," Kate said. She was smiling. "It's really not all that uncommon." She put a box full of various shades of polish in Tiffany's vacant chair. "So take your time, and enjoy." Kate leaned back in her chair to relax. "Choose whatever color you want." She leaned forward again. "I expect a kiss on each foot when you're done." She smiled, and then leaned back again.

I busied myself with applying the basecoat. Kate busied herself with relaxing and being pampered. Truth be told, I really enjoyed doing it for her. It was sort of a reward for both of us, from a bet between her and Tiffany. I started to wonder what Tiffany would've wanted for winning. Then I decided to not think about it, and enjoy what I had. I was so busy with what I was doing, that I didn't notice Kate had leaned back up to watch.

"Would you let me style your hair tomorrow?" she asked.

"As long as you don't cut it," I said.

"No, nothing like that," Kate said. "I was thinking maybe curl it after you tan."

"Sure," I said. "Sounds like fun."

"Cool," she said. "You know… you're really a lot of fun Bailey."

"Thanks," I said. "Wish I could trade you for Justin."

"He's not so bad," Kate said. "Just needs to get off his jock ego trip."

"Yeah… football really changed him." I started to rummage through the colors of nail polish. "I think maybe he feels pressured by Tom to do it."

"Maybe he needs to take a break from hanging around Tom all the time?"

"I don't know," I said. "I wish Tom would take a break from life."

Kate and I talked almost the entire time I painted her toenails. We really got to know each other. She even dragged it out longer and let me do her fingernails. By the time we finished, my hair had dried completely. I knew Tiffany was missing me, so I rushed to put everything away for Kate. She knew I wanted to get out of the room, but she wouldn't let me until I got down on my knees and kissed her feet. Then she thanked me, and ushered me from her room.

Soon after I left Kate's room, I found myself in Tiffany's bed. All things considered, it wasn't that horrible being Bailey. Only Tom really put a damper on it all. Since Justin hardly talked to me, I really had very little resistance. My mom seemed far from against it, even encouraging it to some level. Kate treated me like a sister. Tiffany loved Bailey. As I drifted to sleep in her arms, I started to wonder if I could stay Bailey.

I awoke, somewhat late in the morning, to Tiffany's soft lips leaving playful kisses on my face. As I came more aware of my surroundings, I started to kiss back. She scooted toward me, and I moved closer to her. Before long we were rubbing our hands on each other, over the satin material of our clothes. Our bare legs rubbed together.

When I started to kiss down her neck, she pushed me away. I watched her slip out of bed. She pulled the sheets off of me, and then retrieved something from her dresser. A sly and mischievous smile spread across her face as she crawled back onto the bed. In her right hand she held what I made out to be the neon pink bikini bottoms.

"Since you helped me dress last night," Tiffany said, "I thought maybe I'd help you."

I started to scoot away from her. "I'm not so sure."

"Please?" She tugged at my borrowed shorts.

"Do you really think we should?"

"Are you nervous?"

"A little," I said.

Tiffany straddled my lower legs. She tugged back and forth on the sides of the satin shorts until they were down to my knees. I put my hands on her thighs, in an attempt to get away from her. As I squirmed beneath her, she pulled the top up and over my head. She slipped it down my arms, and managed to pull it off when I lifted my hands away from her.

By this time it had become more of a playful attempt to get away from Tiffany. While I felt uncomfortable about the whole ordeal, I honestly didn't put up much of a fight. Tiffany pushed me back down onto the pillows. She started planting gentle kisses on my shoulders and neck. As she continued to kiss down my chest, she wiggled out of her own top.

I wiggled as well, still pretending I wanted to get away. Yet as she continued to kiss me, I lost the will to fight after awhile. I moved my hands up to her waist. My fingers hooked in behind the elastic band of her shorts. In a matter of seconds I had pulled them down her tan thighs. She rose up on her knees to let the shorts go down further. After a lot of squirming and worming around, our shorts finally slipped from our feet.

Tiffany moved up to lay on top of me. She pushed her body into mine. I started kissing her neck on the left side, and she returned the affection on my own neck. Her hands slid into my hair, and pulled at it gently. Then she started rubbing her pelvis into mine. She shifted to where our left thighs ended up rubbing between each others' thighs.

She continued to slide up and down my body. I moved my hands up and down her bare back. Eventually I pushed them under her panties. Tiffany moaned as I squeezed her bottom. It felt so smooth and firm. She kept rubbing against me until her panties had shifted down to her thighs. Then she pushed into me, continuing to rub against me harder.

Her breathing became ragged. She pulled at my hair a little harder. Soon she had stopped kissing me, and just continued to slide up and down my body. I couldn't resist kissing her neck. Her skin had the faint smell of pear and raspberry. I figured it was one of the body washes they had in their shower. She moaned, and I kissed her more.

After a few more minutes, Tiffany began to tremble. She pulled her upper body away from me, and held my head down with her grip on my hair. Her hips grinded into mine a few more times, and then she stopped completely. I watched her for a few minutes hold her position. Then she gently collapsed on top of me. Her grip loosened from around my hair, and she lowered her hands to run them up and down my upper arms.

I ran my fingers up her back. Several minutes passed in silence. Then I felt Tiffany's thigh start to rock forward between my legs. Her head tilted back. She pushed her lips up against the bottom of my chin. As she continued to rock her leg against my groin, she kissed down my neck.

Before long, Tiffany had me softly moaning. She kept rocking her thigh against me. At one point she grabbed onto my shoulders for leverage. Her kissing became as relentless as her rubbing against my entrapped penis. I felt it twitch inside my borrowed panties. She kept going.

The whole time Tiffany rocked against me, I could feel her body sliding against mine. Her whole body was warm, but her pelvic area felt warmer and wet. It started to glide in the area above the top of my panties. Tiffany pushed up, bracing herself with her forearms. She looked into my eyes and grinded her thigh into me a little harder.

After several more thrusts, I started to breathe harder. My penis twitched several times, and then started to convulse. Soon it was convulsing with each thrust of her thigh. I moaned loudly, causing her to push her lips into mine. She kissed me hard. When I'd calmed down a bit, she pulled away from the kiss. Then, after a few more kisses on my lips and cheeks, Tiffany slid down my body.

She took my panties off as she went, pulling them slowly down my legs. When she had pulled them completely off, she knelt next to me on the bed with them in her hands. Slowly and methodically she wiped my penis off. Apparently it amused her to see an actual penis for the first time. She took great care in cleaning it off, and studied it carefully. Eventually she finished, and dropped the panties next to her bed with the rest of my clothes.

"Did we just have sex?" I asked, nervous about even talking to her.

"I'm not sure," Tiffany said, "but I think we just had lesbian sex."

I stared at the pleased expression and smile she had on her face. Then I smiled too. She was so cute, and neither one of us really knew what happened. I even felt like Bailey at the moment, and that seemed fine with me. It obviously felt fine with Tiffany. She had moved down to my feet and started to pull on my swimsuit bottoms.

Kate had said they'd be snug, but that seemed to be an understatement. When they had reached my thighs, Tiffany had to pull hard on both sides to keep them going up. She nudged me to raise my bottom in the air. Then she pulled them up almost all the way. I helped her by adjusting my genitals, and then she finished pulling them on.

They were tight. In fact, they were almost too tight. As I lowered my bottom back down on the bed, the bikini bottoms pulled in every direction. My groin felt extremely constricted. I shifted around, and I could feel them pull up on the bottoms of my cheeks. Tiffany ran her hand over the front of them.

"I can't even tell you're a boy," she said.

"That is the idea."

"The pink looks so good with your tan legs. I can't wait to see the rest of you tanned."

Tiffany leapt from the bed. She dropped her panties to the floor. I rolled over to sit on the edge of her bed. The clock read twelve o'clock. Their parents had to be long gone. I watched Tiffany slide into a pair of dark blue bottoms. She smiled at me, apparently not caring that I watched her. After putting on the matching top, she opened her door, checked to see if the coast was clear, and then we set out to go tan in her backyard.

Tanning wasn't as exciting as it had been the day before. At the party I had been secretly hiding my identity. Now it just felt like tanning. Even though I sat between Tiffany and Kate, it came nothing close to last night. It even felt like I was Zachary again, wearing only bikini bottoms. I enjoyed being Bailey at the party and even afterwards. I think I even would have enjoyed being Bailey now.

After tanning, and taking a quick shower, Tiffany led me into her room. Like Tiffany had done the night before, I now only wore a towel. As Kate setup what she needed to style my hair, Tiffany had me get dressed. To my surprise she had picked out a pair of hot pink panties in a bikini style. I watched her walk them over to me. She pulled the towel from around my waist.

"I picked these especially for you," Tiffany said.

"I was hoping you'd have my own underwear," I said.

"These are," she said. "I mean, I'm giving them to you. I want you to have them."

"You want me to wear panties too?"

"Well, I thought since you have to and all…"

"I could've left my male underwear here to change into," I said.

She shook her head. "If my parents found them, they'd ask way too many questions. Besides, it'll keep you out of trouble with your step dad."

"I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right," she said, handing me the panties. "Now put them on." She turned back to her closet. "I have the rest of your stuff here. Unless you want to go home as Bailey?"

"I better not," I said.

I pulled on the pair of hot pink panties. Tiffany met me just as I settled into them. She handed me my jean shorts from the other day. After slipping them on and fastening them, Tiffany helped me put on my t-shirt. Then I sat on her bed and slipped my shoes and socks on. I stood, and Tiffany gave me a quick kiss.

"I'm glad to see you again," she said.

"But wish Bailey could stay?"

"Yes, and no," Tiffany said. "I love your girly side, but I think having it be a secret is more exciting."

"It's not much of a secret," I said. "If Tom had his way, I would probably be Bailey all the time."

"Have you ever thought of letting him catch you?" Tiffany asked as she opened her door.

I stepped out into the hallway. "I never wanted him to catch me in the first place."

"Well he said if you did it again, he'd make you wear more," Tiffany said. "I was just wondering if he got you to wear enough, you could just be Bailey all the time."

"I think there's a lot more to it than clothes," Kate said. She stood at her door. "Now come in here and let me do your hair."

"This will go away with a shower right?"

"Right," Kate said. "I'm just going to curl it."

She brought me into her room. I sat in the chair at her computer desk. Tiffany walked over and sat on her sister's bed. Kate had put out an assortment of things on her desk. There were a couple of brushes, a long comb, a box of hairpins, and a round contraption with steam coming out of it. She walked over and picked up the hairdryer and turned it on.

As Kate dried my hair, she brushed it out. She kept going until my hair was nearly dry. While she did this, she explained she wanted to use hot rollers, and wet hair could make them possibly burn me. In the small mirror I could see Tiffany smiling behind me. She seemed excited to see the outcome.

Kate put the hairdryer down and brought the comb up to my hair. She started by parting my hair into three sections. First she gathered the entire top of my hair and clipped it together for one section. Next she took the sides together and clipped them together. The last section, the back of my hair, she started dividing into several smaller sections.

She would comb one of these smaller sections out, and then roll it up with a small roller from the steaming contraption I'd seen earlier. When she got it all rolled, she'd put a clip in it to hold, and then move to the next smaller section. Kate put about six rollers in the back section, and then moved on to the next section; my sides.

Again she divided this larger section into smaller sections. Going the opposite way as the last section, she put several more rollers in. One by one, the small rollers left the steaming round contraption. The girls made comments back and forth to each other about how cute I'd look after. Tiffany claimed I looked cute before they started. Kate mentioned I looked cute the other day. A huge part of me wished I was dressed as Bailey at the moment, but even the lack of clothing didn't stop me from feeling like Bailey inside.

When Kate had finished putting rollers in my hair, she began checking it all, fidgeting here and there. I think I ended up with a total of sixteen small rollers in my hair. Kate continued to fuss over it a little more, and then told me she had to get a shower for work. She told Tiffany to take me into the other room. Then she mentioned she'd take the rollers out and finish up before she took me home.

While Tiffany and I waited on Kate, we had some watermelon in the kitchen. I still swear to this day that Tiffany lived on the stuff. She ate a ton of it. We made small chat, the whole time listening for Kate to call us back in. Time seemed to tick away slower than molasses, but eventually we heard Kate call from the other room.

We stepped into Kate's room as she was finishing up putting her uniform on for work. She pointed to the chair for me to sit down. I quietly sat and watched her put her makeup on. She fixed her own hair into a quick ponytail, and I felt a bit ashamed she had spent all the time on my hair and not her own. After stepping into her shoes, she came back over to me.

She quickly started taking pins and rollers out of my hair. With each one removed, she would comb out my hair with her fingers. After taking out the entire back section, she combed it all together with her fingers, making it blend a bit. Then she repeated the process with the next section. Once she got done with the top section, I had a ton of small bouncy curls.

"She looks adorable," Tiffany said.

"Yeah," Kate said. "It turned out better than I thought it would." She leaned over me. "If you wanted it to stay longer, I would've put hairspray in it to hold." I felt her hands on my shoulders. "You might get in trouble though if you can't make it go away quickly."

"It's a shame it has to go away at all," I said. "I really like it."

"I love it," Tiffany said, walking up to kiss me on the cheek. "It's so Bailey."

"Well…" Kate looked at her watch. "Bailey has to go be Zach now." She turned to her sister. "So say your goodbyes quickly." She removed her hands from my shoulder and started wandering around getting her keys and stuff.

Tiffany pulled me to stand up. "You look amazing," she said, running her hand on my cheek. "I wish you could stay longer, maybe do something with me."

"I wish I could too," I said. "Mom wanted me home at a reasonable time though."

"I understand." She leaned in and gave me a tender kiss on the lips. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

"Let me know if you wanna do that party," Tiffany said. "We can plan ahead and set it all up for you to go as Bailey."

"I'll think about it," I said. "I'm not so sure how much longer this Bailey thing will go."

"I hope it can continue for awhile," Kate said. "I'm having fun practicing looks on you."

"Bye Zach," Tiffany said, giving me another kiss. "And Bailey." She gave me a hug.

"Bye Tiffany," I said as we broke the embrace. "I'll call you later."

"Let's go girly boy," Kate said with a wink. She ushered me out of her room, and eventually out of their house.

About fifteen minutes later, Kate dropped me off at my house. The entire ride from her place to mine, she had glanced at my hair countless times. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was extremely proud of her work. I had to be honest. She did a good job. I loved how my hair looked, but I wished I could wear it like it was permanently. We also had an interesting conversation about me taking the berating comments from Tom as compliments. Kate even revealed to me that she thought the term sissy was cute.

I thanked Kate for the ride. Then I thanked her for my hairstyle. She mentioned she would do it again anytime I'd let her. I kept this offer in the back of my mind. I'm sure I would take her up on it. I pushed open the car door, and hopped out. After closing her door, and giving her a quick wave goodbye, I climbed the stairs to my front door and let myself inside. My mother's voice carried down the stairs as soon as I closed the door.

"Zach is that you?"

"Yes," I shouted back.

"I didn't expect you so soon."

"Where are you?" I started to carry myself up the stairs.

"I'm in your room," my mother said. "I have something to show you."

"What?"

"Just come here."

I shuffled up the rest of the stairs. She probably had more nail polish to give me or something of the sort. My mother always read into stuff way too much. In fact, she seemed to be more interested in Bailey than Tiffany or I combined. Maybe it stemmed from her not having a daughter. It was hard to tell what she even thought of the entire situation. I stepped into my room and was greeted by a large pile of clothing on my bed.

"Oh my!" my mother said. "Somebody got some sun." She walked over to check me out, reaching for my hair. "And a new hairstyle I see."

"Kate did it," I said. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," my mother said. "It looks darling." She continued to play with the small curls. "It's a shame you can't keep it like this. I think she did an excellent job."

I looked to my bed. "What's all this?"

She turned to the bed. "After our little conversation the other night, I took the liberty to get you a few things."

"Clothes?"

"Now before you get excited, some of it is fairly old," she said. "I tried to get some stylish things, but there isn't much selection at a consignment shop."

"A what?" I asked.

"A consignment shop honey," she said. "It's a place where you can buy second hand stuff."

"Like Goodwill?"

"Not exactly the same, but close." She stepped over to the pile of clothing. "The clothes at consignment shops usually aren't worn out as much as a thrift store."

"Why?"

"Because they're usually clothes that were outgrown quickly, or worn for one season, and only accepted in good condition."

"No… I mean why did you buy all of this?"

"Oh!" She chuckled a bit. "Well I thought you…" She gave me a solemn look. "I thought if you wanted to explore Bailey a bit more, this would be the cheaper option without being the cheapest."

"I can't be Bailey."

"Can't be, or don't want to be?"

"I don't even know if I want to be," I said. "It was fun this past week, but I can't do it all the time."

"Well, unlike Tom, I'm not forcing you," she said. "But right now you have a window of opportunity to explore your options. At least until you outgrow it."

"With Tom around?"

"Tom's not always around. He's even thinking about getting a night job," she said. "If you want to be Bailey around me I won't say a word."

"What about Justin? He'll tell on me any chance he gets."

"I'll be having a long talk with him if you choose to continue with this," she said. "But he has two-a-day practices soon, and then he'll be staying after school until football is over."

"That's true…"

"Look, it's up to you kiddo. Whatever you want to do." She put her fists on her hips. "You got the hair right now to play around with. Besides… wouldn't you like to wear your own clothes to that birthday party?"

"I don't know if I'm going to that," I said. "Tiffany only mentioned it."

"Well you sounded excited about it on the phone last night."

"I think it was just because she was excited about it."

"Were you officially invited?"

"Bailey was, but I think they'd all flip if they found out the truth."

"Look," my mother said. "You've been out in public twice as Bailey. Once under the extreme scrutiny of other girls, and they couldn't tell the difference."

"That's true…"

"I'd say after what you did last night, and if your hair is any indication…" She folded her arms across her chest. "Actually by the hair alone, I think you would like to explore this further."

"I do," I said, glancing at the floor. "But Tom…"

"Screw Tom," she said. "This is about you. I'm not going to force you into these clothes, and I'm not going to berate you for wearing them. You have to decide if you want to be Bailey, Zachary, or even both."

"I suppose I could at least think about it," I said, looking up at her. "You did go to the trouble after all."

"It wasn't much trouble." She gestured with her hands. "It can always go back, or I can donate it elsewhere if you don't want to do this."

My voice trembled. "Can I try it on?"

"Of course," she said. "I'd like you to try it all on, but even just trying on what you like suits me." She sorted the top of the pile into shirts and bottoms. "At any rate, could you at least go through these and see if you like any of it?"

"I'll try them on."

"It's settled then." She pointed at the floor in front of my closet. "Shoes too. I got a few pairs, but we can get you some different ones if you want. If you'd feel comfortable going as Bailey to try things on, we can do that too. There are a few bras in here." She picked up a small bra from the bed, and dropped it again like she was scared to hold it. "If you decide to continue this, I would prefer we buy your undergarments new. Panties, bras, even tights and pantyhose later. We can get all of that." From the corner of my eye I could see her mulling over the clothes. "If you need my help for something, don't be embarrassed to ask."

She had lost me at the word shoes, and she didn't even know it. "Thanks mom," I said, as I stared at the shoes. They captivated me.

"I'll leave you to it then," she said, as she brushed past me into the hallway.

My door was shut in about ten seconds. What was it about shoes that interested me? Kate had to be right. I definitely had a fetish, as she called it, for feet. Maybe I had a fetish for shoes as well? I kicked off my sneakers, and nearly ran over to the shoes. Everything on the bed seemed like second favorite to me at the moment. It could've all been on fire screaming for me to save it, and I still would've run over to the shoes to rescue them.

The selection confused me at first. I didn't know what my mother was thinking when she picked out the shoes. Then I realized she had quickly covered several occasions with her choices. A cute pair of white mule sneakers covered anything casual. I could even wear them to Tracy's party. Wait! Did I really want to go to her party?

I picked up a pair of black ballet flats. They looked almost exactly like Tiffany's pair of flats, only they had a decorative flower cutout on the toes. I figured I could wear them casually, if I didn't want sneakers, or for slightly more dressy occasions. The next pair I picked up were a pewter color. They were a dress sandal, with thin straps running everywhere, and a chunky two inch heel.

When I picked up the fourth pair, I started to think of all the situations where I would be wearing these shoes. Then I started to wonder why I was thinking about dressing as Bailey for those situations. The shoes were cute, and a big pull for me dressing. This pair in particular happened to be black Oxfords, with two and a half inch tapered heels. They were probably the cutest ones in the bunch.

The last two pairs of shoes interested me the most. While the other four pairs were a size four and a half, Tiffany's size, these two pairs weren't. My mother had bought me a pair of really dark gray leather boots in a size five. They were almost black, but looked sort of faded. The block heel on them was a modest inch, maybe slightly over, and they looked like they would come to mid-calf on me. I think they were my favorite pair, perhaps because they looked comfortable.

Looking at the last pair, I noticed they were a size five and a half. The size didn't intrigue me as much as the style of the shoe. Even Tiffany didn't have anything like them, but I knew for a fact my mother did. She wore them to work all the time, and called them pumps. I'm not sure why they were called this, but it didn't seem to bother me much. I studied the four inch heel. It tapered down into a half circle about three quarters of an inch wide at the bottom.

I wondered why my mother decided I needed this pair. Perhaps she thought I might want to dress up like she does for work. They were a nice pair of shoes. The sole and heel were a light tan color, while the rest were a dark navy blue. I'm sure I could find something to wear with them in the pile my mother bought. However, I wasn't so sure I could walk in them.

All of the ideas about outfits, and thinking about what to wear each pair with, got me excited enough to check out the clothes. It couldn't be put it off any longer. I had to see what my mother got me. Tossing the pump down into the pile of shoes, I pulled myself away from them. In a matter of seconds I had pushed myself from the floor to stand. I turned toward my bed.

The clothes confused the hell out of me. When I arrived at my bed, and started to dig through the pile of clothing, I was shocked at the sizes. They didn't make any sense to me at all. Some of them had size twelve, while others had size seven to eight. I still couldn't figure out how the large could be the same size as the small. There were even a pair of extra small jeans with a glittery design on the right leg. I decided to try them on first.

Though I had only dressed as Bailey a few times, it seemed to bother me less each time. In fact, I could probably handle going back and forth to her at will. I could be like a cross-dressing superhero, or heroine. It wasn't exactly clear in my mind which one of those it would be. Perhaps I'd let my admirers choose my true identity. Maybe the confusion could be one of my special powers?

I shook my head. With a slightly amused smile on my face, I pushed off my shorts. Tiffany's hot pink panties greeted me. Actually they were mine now. She had given them to me. The unusual circumstances to which they were obtained still disturbed me. In some weird way I felt like she was going along with my stepfather's punishment.

She could have at least kept one pair of my male underwear over there. I could've worn them as a backup, and even taken my nail polish off at her place. Instead she threw them away, claiming it would keep me out of trouble with Tom, and keep her from being questioned by her parents. However, it still seemed like she wanted to go along with Tom's idea. She didn't show any signs of pity or remorse for putting me back into panties.

I kicked my shorts off to the side. After stooping to lower the jeans to the floor, I put my right foot in one leg. Then I put my left foot in the other leg. The jeans slid up my calves and past my knees. When I got to my hips they seemed a bit snug. I kept going, pulling at the waistband. Finally they slipped over my hips and fell into place at the waist.

The first thing I noticed after I fastened them, was the fit. They weren't tight, but they were snug. In fact they hugged my bottom, and continued to be snug down to the top of my knees. This is where they started flaring out toward the bottom. Examining the bottom of the right leg led me to the second thing I noticed. The glittery design was a pinkish trail of soft loops, which led ultimately to a butterfly in full flight on the thigh.

"How cute," I said to myself.

My shirt flew from my body. I dug my hands into the pile of clothes. After about a minute of randomly tossing articles of clothing aside, I realized I only had three choices in bras. There was a light gray sports bra, a white training bra like Tiffany's, and then a beige bra with some sort of padding in it. For some reason I had to experience this one.

On the tag another size confused me. It read thirty-two A. I needed to ask my mother or Tiffany what all of these sizes meant. However, it could wait. I slipped the bra over my arms. With a little effort I managed to get it hooked closed in the back. After a few moments of adjustments, I had the bra fitting me snugly. Now I just had to decide on a top. There was a light knock at my door.

"Come in," I said, still digging through the pile of clothing.

My door slid open. "How's it coming?"

I turned to face my mother. "Okay I guess."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I said. "I just…" I looked at the clothes. "I'm a little confused by sizes is all."

"Oh." My mother chuckled. "Don't worry about that. I'm forty-two, and I still don't get it sometimes." She walked over closer to me. "Some of them are girls sizes, and some are juniors." She started to rummage through the clothes. "I took the sizes from Tiffany's clothes the other day, but a lot of it has been guess work."

"So they go to a certain size and start over?"

"Sort of," she said. "I'm not going to bore you with the details." She pulled a shirt from the pile. "Try this one."

I took the shirt from her. The shirt was simple, with no design, but had a nice tan color. It also had what I later learned were cap sleeves. As I slipped it on, my mother went to open my curtains. Light poured into the room. I tugged at the shirt, but couldn't manage to pull it down past my belly button. My mother smiled as she walked over to me. I, however, continued to tug on the shirt.

"It's a crop top," she said, as she pulled my hands away from the hem of the shirt. "They're supposed to be like that."

"I just thought it was too short."

My mother chuckled. "You got a nice tan," she said, running her hand lightly across my navel. "The color of the shirt really brings it out, and this style shows it off."

"The jeans might be a bit too small," I said.

She put a couple of fingers behind the waistband and gave it a few tugs. "Turn around."

I did as she requested. My mother tugged at the waistband in the back. She checked how much the pockets gave in the back. Then I felt her hand gently slide over my bottom. When she nudged me to turn back around, she brushed her hands down the thighs like she was smoothing the jeans out. I watched her evaluate the front for a moment.

"They look perfect to me," she said.

"They're a little tight."

"Well they're not the baggy old jeans you're used to wearing," she said. "You'll get adjusted to them."

"What if I don't?"

"Then you can just wear them until you do," she said with a wink. "It'll be nice, for a change, to see you in something besides baggy seconds from your brother." She walked over to my dresser. "I hope you don't mind, but I replaced your socks. White for now, but we can add other colors if you want." She pulled a pair from the top drawer. "They're also lighter material, and they'll barely cover your heel, but I think they'll be easier to go back and forth in."

I took the small pair of socks from her. "Always thinking ahead."

"Speaking of thinking ahead," she said. "Is there a particular reason you chose the push-up bra?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "I thought it would look better if I had… you know…"

"I thought so," she said, with a wink. "In that case would you like me to get you a few more like that?"

I sat down on my bed. "Don't you think you've gotten me enough?" I asked, gesturing at the clothes.

"Well we can wait on it." She waited for me to take my old socks off, and then she took them from me and tossed them in the trash can. "I thought maybe you'd like to get some of it out of the way before school starts."

"I'm not going to school as Bailey," I said.

"Oh heavens no!" my mother said. "I just meant you'd probably be busier then." She walked over and sat on my bed. "Junior high is hard enough to adjust to as it is."

I sat down on my bed next to my mother. She busied herself with continuing to sort my "new" clothes. I brought my right foot up to me, and slipped one of the socks on over it. At first I thought they were too small, but realized they were supposed to fit like they did. While my regular old ones came up and covered my ankle, these didn't even reach my ankle. They came about halfway up my heel as well.

"Those go great with the mule sneakers I got you," my mother said. "If you want to wear socks with them, the socks won't show as much." She continued to mess with the pile of clothes. "They also have ones that show less than that."

"Think it'll take a while to get used to them," I said, as I slipped the other one on my left foot. "But I like them." I stood up, ready to go put on my shoes.

"You have a lot of things to get used to," she said, holding up another pair of pants. "Try these." She sat for a moment staring at me. "Would you like me to leave the room?"

I recalled Tiffany's mention of women helping other women dress. "You're fine," I said.

I reached for the button on my jeans and unfastened them. As I wiggled them down over my hips, my mother smiled at me. They slid down my legs, and I stooped over to pull them off of my feet. Then I folded them neatly and walked over to the bed. My mother continued to give me a pleasant smile as I exchanged the pants.

"Cute panties," she said.

"Tiffany gave them to me," I said. "To keep."

"Oh?" My mother raised her eyebrows. "Does she like it when you're Bailey?"

"More than when I'm Zach, I'm afraid."

"Do you like being Bailey when you're with her?"

"She makes it more fun I think," I said. "But I'm starting to just like being Bailey."

"Are you saying you want to be her more?"

"I think I am…"

I held the pants down low enough to step into. My right foot slipped into one leg hole, quickly followed by my left foot in the other. As I pulled the pants up my leg, I realized they were tighter than the jeans. However, the black material they were made of stretched quite a bit. They slipped up over my hips and settled at my waist.

These pants were definitely different than the jeans. First, they were snug, all the way to my knees. For some reason they ended two inches after that. Second, there were no zippers or buttons on the front, but instead there was one zipper on the right side. I pulled the zipper up, making them sink in at the waist.

"Those are called Capri pants," my mother said. "Sort of an in between of jeans and shorts."

"I like them," I said.

"Put on the Oxfords with them," my mother said. "They should look good with them."

I did as she asked, and stepped over to get the pair of Oxfords. As I walked back over to the bed, it appeared my mother seemed to be enjoying having a daughter for the moment. She watched me slip on the shoes, which fit perfectly. Then she smiled as I tied them and took a few paces around the room. I stopped to look at her.

"What's next?" I asked.

She handed me a tube of lipstick. Nothing in my mind even gave me pause to question it. I took the tube, and headed to the mirror. The tube said Toast of New York on it. Apparently my mother was up to speed on the fashions for younger girls. I quickly applied the lipstick, blotted it, and then applied a second coat. Lipstick application seemed like the easiest thing to master.

"Well…" I spun around to face my mother. "What do you think?"

"I think I was right all along."

My mother and I both jumped, and turned to see Tom standing outside of my door. He had this sort of pissed off, but victorious look on his face. I stood frozen, unable to throw any excuse out there to justify my situation. My mother sat on my bed in silence. The pleasant smile had been wiped from her face.

"I've been saying it for years," Tom said. "You're nothing more than a little sissy faggot."

"I…" Tears formed in my eyes.

"You have proven it time and time again." Tom put his hand on my doorframe. "You know it's funny… I called the Stewarts' asking for Zachary the other night. Apparently he never showed up." He glared at me. "Then I called back a bit later and asked if Bailey made it there okay." He slammed his fist against my doorframe. "Wouldn't you know it? Bailey was out at a damn all girl pool party!"

"Tom," my mother said.

"Shut up," Tom said to my mother. He turned to face me. "From now on, forget the rules. Do whatever the hell you want to do, since you do it anyway. Hell… you can do it as Bailey for all I care. In fact… you can just stay Bailey the rest of the summer." He glanced at my mother and then focused on me again. "But I'm taking you to see someone about it."

"See someone?" I asked.

"Yeah," Tom said. "A specialist who deals with little sissies like you." He looked at my mother, who seemed like she was about to argue. "End of discussion!" Tom nearly yelled.

He turned and walked down the hallway. Before long he was yelling at Justin to bring in the rest of the gear from their fishing trip. I walked over and sat on my bed. Tears started to stream down my face. My mother sat next to me in silence. She put her arm around my shoulder and held me close. For the next several minutes I sat there, unwilling to speak, thinking of what could be and what would be. I could be Bailey, but would it ruin me?

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 5

I could just stay Bailey the rest of the summer. My stepfather's words echoed countless times in my mind. It had been about three days since he came home early and caught me dressed fully as Bailey. Initially it had been my mother's idea, but the timing was far from satisfactory. I couldn't blame her. How could she know that bastard would cut his trip short to come catch me in the act?

My mother had bought a ton of clothes for me to be Bailey. All I could think to do that Saturday afternoon, was to keep trying them on. I kept the ones I liked, and made room for them. They soon filled my closet and dresser. Even some I had discarded, my mom salvaged, thinking I'd reconsider.

I hit a happy medium with the shoes as well. All of them fit rather well except for the size five and a half pumps. My mother claimed I'd be able to fit into them eventually. So we kept them as well. She told me I'd be looking at adult sizes soon, and the choice in styles would open up. This little bit of information lightened my mood that Saturday.

Tom was true to his word. He kept his mouth shut, and acted like he didn't give a damn. I spent the rest of Saturday dressed as Bailey, going back to the tan cap-sleeve shirt my mother had chosen, and a pair of short dark jean shorts. Justin said all of a paragraph to me the whole weekend. Their silence actually became a good thing, as I didn't feel the negativity of being Bailey anymore.

By Monday things had settled down slightly. Tom had left for work early in the morning, and my mother didn't work again until Tuesday. Justin had gone somewhere with a friend, leaving me alone with mom. After a somewhat long talk with mom, and much pleading, I convinced her to take me shopping for more clothes.

We discussed what I would need. Since I had made a personal decision to be Bailey more, we had quite a few things to buy. I agreed to stick with the consignment shops for most of my clothes. My mother suggested getting some intimates and things to sleep in at a local store called Laura's. She insisted nobody would know me there.

My mother also insisted I go as Bailey before she agreed to spend more money. She stated it would show my sincerity about wanting to go through with it. I didn't hesitate at all to agreeing with her. When Monday rolled around, my mother picked out a floral summer dress for me to wear. It had a square neckline, and the hem danced atop my knees. I wore the beige padded bra and white panties with flowers on them beneath the dress.

Mother fixed my hair up into a wavy layered look. I borrowed a light pink lipstick from her. She smiled as she watched me apply it by myself. Afterwards I headed to my room and slipped on a new pair of the socks she'd bought me. I figured it would be easier to try things on if I could slip out of my clothes fast. Therefore, I chose to finish the outfit with the white mule sneakers.

I immediately learned consignment shops could be hit or miss. We came away from the first one with two skirts, a top and a cute pair of brown ankle boots. The second store we checked out went a little bit better, and we ended up with several tops, some more shoes, and a couple of dresses. I really didn't see myself as the dress type, but then again the white summer dress covered in flowers I had on was the first one I'd ever worn. The third store went even better, like we had hit the consignment store jackpot.

When we got to Laura's, I saw the sign listed lingerie, swimwear, and sleepwear. The sign fibbed a little bit, as they had a few more things inside. Several purses lined the walls, to which I wasn't interested, along with various hats. They even had a small section of shoes, but they seemed more adult oriented. I stopped in the middle of a section displaying sleepwear. My eyes fell on a satin short and top set, which looked vaguely familiar.

That's what I slept in Monday night. I still had on the pale pink satin sleepwear as I blinked awake Tuesday morning. For a few minutes I lay there, staring at the bland popcorn ceiling of my room, and listening for sounds in the house. I knew my mother and stepfather worked today. Their absence was evident from the lack of sound upstairs.

The only thing I didn't hear happened to be my brother. He was supposed to be home today. I slipped out from under my sheets. As I sat up on the side of the bed, my bare feet sank into the carpet. I took a brief moment to admire my frosted pink toenails. After realizing I could do whatever I wanted with them on Saturday, I decided to do them up on Sunday. For reasons unknown, I chose this shade of pink.

I sat there for awhile, still listening for any hint of life in the house. Before long I heard Justin talking to who I soon realized was Nathan. Their voices grew closer, coming up the stairs from Justin's room. Then I heard Justin mumble something about running plays in the backyard. Nathan mumbled something, to which Justin laughed, and then the house was silent again.

After another minute or two, I pushed myself up from my bed. I figured being Bailey today wouldn't hurt anything, considering Nathan already knew. He had found out about the whole thing when he caught me home alone the other day. As I traipsed around my room putting together an outfit, I hoped it wouldn't be too weird for them both to see me as Bailey.

I shimmied out of my satin sleepwear, draping it over my dresser drawer, and pulled out a pair of plain white panties. As I looked through my closet for something to wear, I slipped on a white padded bra to go with them. My mother had me pick out a few bras, and several more pairs of panties at Laura's. She also had me get several pairs of pantyhose, and some different colored tights. Apparently she planned on me doing this well beyond the summer.

I eventually settled on a pair of light tan Capri cargo pants I'd gotten the day before. They were so cute, and such a steal at the third store, even my mom said I had to have them. The waist closed with only a drawstring, and they could be scrunched at the bottom of both legs with little strings. For a top, I chose a white cap-sleeve shirt with "bebe" across the breasts in glittery pink letters. I gathered it all up and opened my door.

After checking the hallway twice, I scurried across it to the bathroom. I closed and locked the door behind me, tossed my clothes on top of the hamper, and made it over to the toilet. Since I'd started wearing panties, I'd gotten in the habit of sitting to pee. It was more out of convenience than anything. Not having the fly in the underwear caused me to have to pull them down anyway. So I just chose to sit all the time.

When I finished relieving myself, I wiped, and then slipped on the clean pair of panties. Another thing I'd grown quite accustomed to was tucking. It became more comfortable each time, and I continued to push my testicles up into my body. I stepped over to the sink to wash up a little bit. The cool water felt good on my face, and helped relieve the rest of my grogginess.

After a few unsuccessful attempts to fix my hair, I decided to go with untamed and wild. Mom's pink lipstick was still on the counter, so I used it again. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. I stepped into the cargo pants, and pulled them up all the way. They sat on top of my hips, and I could feel the strings at the bottom dangling against my calves.

I pulled the drawstring snug, and tied it in a bow at the waist. Then I cinched the legs in a little at the bottom, and tied them into bows. When I felt satisfied with how they fit, I pulled the shirt on over my head. The bottom of it barely came into contact with the top of the pants. If I moved at all, it showed a bit of my tan skin beneath.

I fixed a few strands of hair the shirt had messed up. I brushed my teeth, and gave myself a quick once over check in the mirror. With nothing left to do, I pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway. I scurried to my room once again. Then I slipped on my new-to-me pair of navy blue cloth ballet flats to complete my outfit. Before I stepped out of my room, I popped a piece of strawberry bubblegum into my mouth.

Justin and Nathan were tossing the football back and forth when I looked out the kitchen window. At first I was scared to go out and join them. Even though it was my backyard too, I felt like I didn't belong out there. I definitely didn't belong anywhere near a football, as I didn't know the first thing about it. Sure Tom and Justin talked nonstop about it, but they never really explained it to me.

If anything, I could go out and talk to them. Perhaps I could attempt to reopen the lines of communication with my brother. I watched Nathan jump for a ball thrown a bit high. He would talk to me at least. Unless he happened to be one of those people who didn't talk to you if he was around people his age.

After a few minutes of watching them, I decided to take a chance. I thought maybe I would take a peace offering, incase this didn't go over well. Stepping across the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator, and grabbed two bottles of water. Then I stepped back across the kitchen and opened the backdoor. The sun actually felt good having been in the air-conditioned house this whole time.

"Well hi there Bailey," Nathan said from halfway across the yard. "Looking a little more tan than the last time I saw you."

"You better stop sleeping in," Justin said. "Just because you wanna dress like a princess, doesn't mean you get to act like one. It's gonna throw you off schedule when school starts."

"I'm not worried about that," I said, as I closed the door behind me.

"Yeah man," Nathan said. "Giver her a break. She needs her beauty sleep."

"Whatever." Justin grabbed the football from Nathan's hands and walked away from him.

"You coming to watch, or you wanna run plays with us?" Nathan asked.

I chewed on my gum silently for a while before answering. "I brought you guys some water." I held the bottles up.

"Cool." Nathan walked over to take one. "Thanks."

"Like he knows the first thing about football," Justin said. "He avoids it like the plague."

"Is that true?" Nathan took a few gulps of water.

"Nobody ever really explained it to me," I admitted.

"More like you ran off when we tried," Justin said loudly.

Nathan pulled the bottle away from his lips. "I can show you." He looked me over, and then lowered his voice so that only I could hear him. "Unless you're scared of getting that pretty little outfit dirty?"

I shook my head.

"Well come on then."

Nathan took the other bottle of water from my hand, and put them both on the step of the patio. In a surprising move, he took me by the wrist and led me over to my brother. Justin gave him a weird look as we walked over. Nathan's grip felt firm, but gentle on my arm. It was so unlike Tom's cut-your-blood-off grip, that he used on me when I got in trouble. However, it wasn't exactly like Tiffany's friendly pull-you-along grip either. By the time I'd gotten used to being led around, Nathan stopped and dropped my wrist.

"Do you know the basics?" Nathan asked.

"He knows the person with the highest score wins," Justin said. He laughed a bit.

"Excuse me," I said. "I can answer for myself." I folded my arms across my chest, and chomped feverishly on my gum. "And could you please refer to me as a she."

"She what?" Justin asked through another fit of laughter.

Nathan elbowed my brother. "Come on man. Cut her some slack."

"Whatever." Justin walked over to me, holding the football up. "This is a football."

"Stop it!" I said. "I know stuff…"

"What do you know?" Nathan asked.

I pushed Justin away. The smile on his face looked like he found the cookie jar. "Well…" The left side of my face scrunched up as I thought hard for a moment about what I actually did know about football. "I know you can run or pass from Tom screaming at the television."

"Right," Nathan said. "What else?"

"This could take all day," Justin said.

I rolled my eyes at Justin, and then refocused on Nathan. "I know the basics. Like you have four downs to get a first down, and can score a touchdown, punt, or kick a field goal."

"That's pretty much all there is to it," Nathan said. "Why don't you like it?"

"It's not like I hate it," I said, chewing my gum as I talked. "I just don't get into it. Like I don't know what some of the positions are, or rules. Stuff like that."

"And that keeps you from watching it?" Nathan asked.

"She probably hates watching it with Tom," Justin blurted out. He tossed the ball to Nathan. "After this weekend, I'm starting to see what she's talking about with him."

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked, tossing the ball back to Justin.

"He only cares about himself." Justin tossed the ball back to Nathan. "We got to the cabin Friday night, and all he did was talk on his damn cell phone." He pointed toward me.

"That sucks." Nathan waved with the ball to get my attention. When I was looking, he gently tossed the ball to me. "Did you catch who he was talking to?" He pointed at Justin, who was clapping his hands together for the ball.

I thought about what Tom had told me, as I tossed the ball to Justin. "He said he was calling around checking up on me," I said. "I hope it wasn't that."

"No, he did that on the way to the cabin," Justin said. "But later he was talking to someone for hours. Almost like they were old friends." He tossed the ball to Nathan. "Seemed kind of guarded about me hearing it too."

"Maybe it was business?" Nathan asked as he tossed the ball to me, again more gently than anyone ever had.

"Business is business," Justin said. "He talks about that shit in front of us." He caught the ball from me. "This was different." His hand dropped, still holding the ball. "I wonder if he's having an affair."

"Yeah…" I chimed in. "That sounds kind of unusual for him."

"Well I'm sure it wasn't anything like that," Nathan said. "Maybe just an old friend he hadn't talked to for awhile?"

"Probably," Justin said. "But he blew off the rest of the trip because of Bailey."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I'm not blaming you," Justin said. "Just stating fact."

"Well I didn't mean to ruin your weekend," I said.

"You didn't ruin it," Justin said. "Tom did that all by himself." He flashed me a quick smile, and then looked at Nathan. "Let's run some plays."

"Fine by me," Nathan said. "You wanna help Bailey?"

"Help with what?" I asked, chomping on my gum.

"The plays," Justin said.

"Can't I just watch you guys?"

"What's the fun in that?" Nathan asked. "Come on. You can play defense."

"It will help him get better," Justin said. "And maybe me too. Though that's a stretch."

"Like you're all that," Nathan said to Justin.

"I'm the fucking shit and you know it," Justin said.

"Hey," Nathan said. "Watch your language in front of the lady."

"Okay I'll do it," I said, interrupting their testosterone bath. "But I don't know how much help I'll be."

"Just try to keep me from catching the ball," Nathan said. "I can't promise it'll be easy though." He gave me a wink.

I followed him over, several feet away from my brother. He stopped at a suitable spot, and put a hand towel down on the ground. As he looked over at my brother to get a play, I sized him up. He stood over my five-foot-nothing frame by about another half foot or more. His body looked toned beneath his white tank top and silver shorts. I continued to stare at him until he turned to face me.

"The towel's the line of scrimmage," Nathan said. "So back up a bit. This isn't prom night. You can't be right on top of me like that."

"Ha ha," I said, moving back about a yard. "Here?"

"That's good," Nathan said. "Now no cheap stuff alright? You can try to slow me up within five yards of the towel, but after that you'll be doing what's called pass interference."

"So I basically just get in your way?" I asked.

"I guess you could put it that way."

"I'm good at that."

Nathan smiled at me. "Don't be afraid to go for the ball either," he said.

"We ready?" Justin asked.

"Think so," I said, chomping again on my gum.

Nathan nodded.

"Just go when I move the ball," Justin said to Nathan.

The first play they ran I stood out as an absolute failure. I stood there not knowing what to expect. Nathan took off to the right of me, and I gave chase after the rude awakening. He stopped about ten yards deep and came back for what I learned later was a curl pattern. I on the other hand kept running, expecting him to be close. He threw the ball back to Justin, and we lined up again.

"So you have a boyfriend Bailey?" Nathan asked, as he looked over to Justin for the play.

"No!" I said, with my mouth hanging open. "I mean… I have a girlfriend."

"Oh cool," he said. "So you're bi?"

Before I knew it Nathan took off running past me. I turned to try to catch up, but he caught the ball several yards away. He stopped and turned, smiling at me. I shook my head and turned to walk back to the line. As he passed me, he patted me on the head. Then he threw the ball back to Justin.

"Don't get distracted," Nathan said, turning in front of me to line up. "Keep your eyes on my waist, and it'll help you detect which way I'm gonna go."

"Okay," I said, staring at his waist. "And I'm not bi."

"Cool," he said. "So lesbian…"

I knew what he was doing. He was trying to distract me, but for some reason he made it into a little game to get personal information from me. The next play went a bit better. As he came off the ball, I put my hands on his chest to try and slow him down. He felt hard as a rock beneath my hands. When he moved his arms to push my hands down, I could tell he worked out. I back pedaled a bit, but he broke the pattern short and ran in front of me on a slant.

I stood there shaking my head as he came back. "I can't possibly be helping," I said.

"You'll get the hang of it," Nathan said. He tossed the ball back to Justin. "If anything you're a bit of a distraction. A pleasant one, but a distraction nonetheless."

"Would you quit flirting with her and line up?" Justin said. I saw him shaking his head.

"Sadly," Nathan said. "She's not into guys, or I'd ask her out."

This statement frustrated me a little bit, but I didn't know why. Nathan lined up, looking at my brother. He took off from the line for another pattern. I put my hands on his arm and pushed him to my left hard. It threw off his pattern a little bit, and I found myself in position to jump for the ball. I swatted Justin's pass down, barely touching it with my fingertips.

Justin groaned and clapped his hands together once. I walked over and got the ball. Nathan passed by me as I was tossing the ball back to my brother. He gave me a light swat on my bottom. It shocked me, and I turned to look at him. He just gave me a wink and returned to the line.

"Good job on that one," Nathan said. "Just don't break a nail."

Somehow Nathan and I found more and more opportunities to touch each other. Several times I'd put my hands on his chest, and give him a push here and there to disrupt him. I would reach up and grab his arm as the ball got to him. Most of the time this didn't stop him from catching the ball either. He was pretty good. So good, in fact, that I actually wanted to watch him in a game. This little realization bugged me more than Nathan's friendly touching.

Eventually I got the jump on a play, and ended up intercepting a pass. Surprisingly it was the same curl pattern as the first one Nathan had run. I caught it, and then kind of stopped. Before I could throw it back to Justin, Nathan rushed up and threw his arms around me. He picked me up and started swinging me from side to side.

"You gotta run with those girl," Nathan said, "or you're gonna get tackled."

Nathan swung me around a few more times. Then he picked me up higher like he was going to slam me to the ground, but instead he eased me back onto my feet. I threw the ball to Justin, then spun around to see Nathan smiling big. He tasseled my hair, and I playfully pushed him away. After he regained his balance, his smile came back, and he jogged around me to the line.

"Uh Bailey…" Justin said.

"Yeah?" I turned to look at him.

"I think Tom wants you," he said, pointing at the backdoor.

I turned to see Tom standing behind the sliding glass door. He took his right hand from his waist and waved at me to come inside the house. After turning back to give Nathan and Justin a be-back-later wave, I turned and trudged up to the door. Out of sheer nervousness, I chewed on my gum. I was afraid of what Tom had to say to me. He slid the door open as I approached.

"I need to talk to you for a few minutes," Tom said. "Come in and shut the door." He stepped back to the kitchen table and sat down.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked, as I stepped inside and closed the door.

"Should you be?" Tom asked with a raised eyebrow.

Perhaps he didn't see me flirting with Nathan. "I don't think so…" I said cautiously.

"Sit down," he said, pointing to the chair opposite of him.

I strolled around the table and took a seat. Tom sat there for a moment, looking like he was finding what to say. Then he calmly placed his hands on the table. He looked me over.

"I've been discussing this with your mother quite a bit," Tom said. "Perhaps I've been a bit too hard on you." He sat up straighter. "But don't think for a second I agree with what you're doing."

Tom's statement stunned me. He never apologized for giving me a hard time. Something seemed a little off, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt as he continued to talk.

"I mean I ruined a perfectly good trip with your brother, thinking about how I could rush back here and punish you." He took an uneven breath. "I'm not going to punish you though."

"You're not?"

"Not that it would do any good," Tom said. "You seem to defy me with every step when I try."

"I'm not trying to defy you," I said.

"Then what is it?" Tom asked. "Do you miss your dad? Do you need a different male role model?" He paused for a moment, appearing to find the best question to ask. "Do you want to be a girl? Is that what this is all about?"

"I…" Somehow talking to Tom seemed hard to do. He'd never really been there to talk about feelings. I took a chance, hoping he'd have an ounce of understanding somewhere in him. "I don't think I want to be a girl," I finally said. "There's just times when it feels good."

"So this is going to be something you'll be going back and forth on?"

"I'd like to." I looked down at the table. "At least for the time being."

"Is it the clothes?" Tom asked. "Is it some kind of fantasy you want to live out with your girlfriend?"

"I don't know how to explain it," I said. "It makes me feel like a different person."

"Well I'm not going to stop you," Tom said. "I just want to lay down some ground rules for you."

"That's fair I guess," I said.

"First of all, no more sleepovers until you decide what it is you want," Tom said. "It may seem like fun and games, but you are physically a boy, and I don't want you with a girl overnight. That goes for Zach, but especially Bailey. I honestly don't want you spending the night anywhere when you're Bailey. Especially a boy's house. If you and some other boy decide you're gay…" He sighed. "Never mind that. I just don't want you spending the night anywhere until you decide who you are."

"I understand."

"I'd like for you also to take it easy around your brother and his friends." He gestured at the door. "I saw you out there roughhousing and I'm scared you're going to get hurt."

"We were just having fun," I said. Part of me was relieved he saw it as roughhousing, when I actually saw it as flirtation.

"Well fun or not, those two are older than you," Tom said. "I'm not saying keep away from them. You can talk to them or watch. Play video games inside with them if you want to play. Your mom would kill me though if one of Justin's football buddies hurt you."

"What if it's not Bailey?"

"Just the same," Tom said. "I'd rather not have you horsing around with older kids." He leaned forward. "Besides there's a bunch of stuff you could be doing around here instead."

"Like what?"

"Well you like to read," Tom said. "Read a book. And there's plenty of chores around here. Help your mom with the cleaning or laundry." He sat back in his chair. "Learn how to sew, so you can upkeep your clothes, or learn to make new ones."

"Aren't those all things you say women should do?" I asked.

"Well you want to be a girl don't you?" Tom chuckled to himself. "If you're going to be a girl, do girly things. Why don't you take up quilting or something?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"Why not?"

"I'm already made fun of enough," I said. "I don't need that on top of it."

"No, I'm done making fun of you." Tom folded his arms across his chest. "And your brother won't be commenting on anything either. Your mom and I are talking it over with him tonight, and we've decided to let you run with this."

"For how long?" I asked.

"As long and as far as you want to take it," Tom said. "Go to your little parties as Bailey. Hang out with your girlfriend as Zach. Be a girl fulltime if you want." He put his hands back down on the table. "However, I would like for you to see a medical professional to make sure you're coming to grips with it all. Will you do that?"

"I can do that," I said.

"Your mom and I talked about it over the weekend," Tom said. "We agreed to get you in to see a specialist who deals with people who have gender identity disorder."

"What's that?"

"I think we should wait until you see the doctor," Tom said. "He'll explain everything to you, and there's a better chance I'll get it all screwed up anyway."

"Okay," I said, looking down at the table again. "When do I have to go?"

"You'll be seeing Doctor Rajan Dinesh. I made an appointment for the twenty-first," Tom said. "The Monday after your party."

"Oh…" I looked up at Tom. "I don't know if I'll be going to that."

"Your mother wants you to," Tom said. "And we both think you need to get out more, even if it is as Bailey." He pushed away from the table and stood up. "So you're going." He walked over and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. "You can go back outside, but take it easy. Pass the ball around and whatnot, but no more rough contact."

I slipped out of the chair and stood behind the table for a moment. Tom calmly opened his beer. He tossed the bottle cap, along with the can opener, onto the counter. Something about him seemed completely off. Like he had swapped bodies with someone who actually gave a damn about the people around him. I watched him for a moment, as he took a rather large swig of his beer. He lowered the bottle and looked at me.

"Did you want to talk about something else?" Tom asked.

"No, I…" After a quick glance outside, I looked back at him. "Why are you okay with this now?"

Tom shook his head with a smile on his face. "I told you I'm not okay with what you're doing," he said. "I just see it as something that has to be dealt with, and it's better to come at it with a calm and rational angle. Eventually we'll all decide what's best for you. Either you'll go back to being Zach, be both, or settle on Bailey."

"If I choose Bailey, you won't be okay with that?"

"If you go that route, I figure I'll have to just deal with you being Bailey. The truth is I'm more interested in you choosing a gender, than pretending to be both." Tom took another swig of his beer, and then sat the bottle on the counter. "You know that gets me wondering," he said. "Do you even like the name Zachary?"

"Well…" I thought about it for a moment. "It's just always been my name. I guess I do."

"Do you want to change it to Bailey?" Tom asked. "You know… officially? The name can go either way, and would stop a bit of the confusion around here."

"Wouldn't that be a problem at school?"

Tom shrugged, and picked his beer back up. "I'll talk to your mom, and we'll look into it." He took another swig of beer. "You wanna be Bailey or not?"

In a series of split decisions I've had to make in my life, I think this one was one of the easiest. I nodded my head. "I think so."

"I'll talk to Susan then." Tom raised his bottle in a style equivalent to giving a toast. "We'll make you Bailey officially."

In an unusual act between the two of us, I walked over and slipped my arms around him. It had been a long time since I even thought about hugging him, let alone acted upon it. He hesitantly put his arm around me. I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, but his reaching out made me want to try to patch things up. He patted my back a few times.

"Thank you," I said.

"Go on out and have fun," Tom said.

Tom broke our embrace and left the room. For the first time in my life I was actually grateful at something he did. I carried our conversation with me, as I stepped out the back door. After sliding the door closed behind me, I looked around the backyard for my brother. He was over with Nathan by the dog pen, messing with our brown and white Pointer.

I always loved animals, even though most insects scared me to death. However, I never cared much for our dog. I found him to be impersonal and he never wanted to be pet. He also lived outside, and the fact he was a hunting dog made him even less interesting. The only part about him I found amusing was his name, Buckles. He acquired it after we found out he had an affinity for fighting seatbelt buckles in Tom's truck.

"Weren't you guys supposed to be working?" I asked, taking a seat on the porch steps.

"We lost our helper," Nathan said, sporting a grin.

"I'll just watch for awhile," I said.

"Aw," Nathan said. "You sure?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I think I got too much sun this weekend."

"Suit yourself," Justin said.

My brother nudged Nathan over to start practicing plays again. For the next hour or so, I watched them run everything from slants to fades. Nathan paused in between to explain a little more about football. Justin eventually chimed in, telling me each play they were running before they ran one. It felt nice being able to talk to my brother again, even if it was about football.

After running plays, the two of them did what they called ball-handling drills. Then they both came over closer to me and stretched. Nathan innocently asked me to help him stretch. I did, but I knew he just wanted to be touched by something resembling a girl. Deep down I think he was sweet and sensitive, but he still had the typical male tendencies. By the time Nathan had to go home, I had learned quite a bit about football, but not so much about Nathan. This disappointed me to some extent.

For some reason, Saturday morning I found myself sitting at my window. I watched the street below, taking note of what happened on our block that day. To be honest, I hadn't slept well at all the entire week. I woke up three or four times a night on average from the most bizarre dreams. They weren't nightmares, but yet they were still disturbing me. I sat at the window to try and forget them.

Mostly my dreams centered around Tom. It still made me uneasy thinking about why he had changed his entire attitude toward me. Sure, my mother could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, but she always gave in to Tom when the chips were down. She was completely submissive to him, but not subservient. What changed with Tom though? Did he suddenly feel the need to relate to me?

Our neighbors across the street came out of their house, bickering and complaining to each other. It was normal for them. I tried to recount all the times the police had sent a squad car over there. They didn't have those abusive kinds of fights, but Greg, the husband, had a nasty temper. His wife, Julie, usually called the police to come settle him down. It was kind of sad, because they were a young couple, lower twenties, and would probably see divorce before they hit thirty.

A flashy red sports car flew down the road. I didn't know cars. It just wasn't the type of thing I got into. Tom used to be able to tell you the car coming down the road by the sound of it's engine. He claimed that anymore all the cars looked the same. They had no ingenuity to them, and he couldn't tell them apart. Usually about that time, he switched to talking about football with Justin, or did the "when I was a kid" speech.

That's why I found it kind of nice that Nathan took his time explaining things to me. I guess guys just assume other guys know things. Nathan treated me differently. In fact, the more I thought of how he acted around me, the more I realized he treated me like a girl. I obviously didn't fool him with my dual side. Of course, he had never seen the other side of me. Would he even want to see Zach? I might not be cool enough for him. Did I purposely want him to see me as Bailey?

Bailey… another thing that puzzled me. Tom thought it would be perfectly fine for me to change my name. Where the hell did that come from? He did have several good points about the proposed name change. It did work for a boy or girl. Obviously it would stop a lot of confusion, as I would only have one name. When he brought it up at the table in front of mom, he also pointed out my middle name, Emlyn, could go either way as well.

It took my mother about ten seconds to okay the name change. She talked with Tom about it for several minutes. Tom said he could look into the legal issues. Mom claimed she would take care of the change at school, and could probably get it all done before I started seventh grade. My brother fell silent on the issue, but when they asked him, he didn't seem to care one way or the other.

True to his word, Tom had left the house early Wednesday morning to look into it all. I knew, because I woke up around the time he left. About an hour earlier, the first time I woke up, I had watched the sunrise for the first time in a long time. Also around that time, Nathan jogged by the house. I guess he jogged in the morning when he could, and nights when he didn't get around to it.

There didn't seem to be any logical reason why I kept thinking about Nathan. Guys never really interested me beyond friendship. I had enough to worry about keeping Tiffany happy. The only thing that stood out in my mind, was the fact Nathan treated me like a normal person. He might have said he didn't care one way or the other if I dressed as Bailey, but I think he did care. At least he cared enough to include me in things. In a time where I desperately sought approval, this kind of inclusion was like gold.

Saturdays always tended to be boring. Tom had taken Justin fishing to make up for the ruined weekend trip. So I sat in my room alone. Thoughts danced around my head like the butterflies on my pajama bottoms. Nothing seemed to grab my attention long enough for me to focus on one thing. I continued to stare out my window. Several cars went by. Even outside nothing stayed in one place long enough for me to focus on it. Before long I heard a gentle knock at my door.

"Come in," I called out.

My door slid open. "You busy honey?" my mother asked.

"No," I said. "I'm just sitting here thinking."

"I was thinking too," my mother said. "I was wondering if you'd like to try something a little special today?"

"Like what?" I turned to face my mother.

"I thought we could take advantage of this time in your life to try a mother daughter day."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well…" My mother walked over and sat on the foot of my bed. "Some of the women at work got me a gift certificate for the Oasis Day Spa downtown." She reached out and touched my knee. "They do it every April for secretary day. I haven't used it yet, and I thought maybe you would like to go with me." She retracted her hand. "You know, for the experience?"

"Well that's definitely different," I said.

"If it's too much too soon…"

"Actually…" I thought about it for a moment. "I think it might be too soon for that."

"That's fine dear," mom said. "I don't want you to feel pressured into anything." She stood up and tasseled my hair. "I'll just call and cancel."

"You already made an appointment?"

She shrugged. "I thought you'd say yes."

I watched her for a moment before she left my room. My focus returned to the window, and the street below. Now all I could think about was what a spa visit would be like. I couldn't get my mind off of it, as there was nothing else to capture my interest. It seemed to be a typical boring Saturday. However, doing things while bored got me into trouble in the past.

What amazed me more is how my mother thought I would say yes. I wanted to say yes, but at the same time I wanted to be normal. Somehow going to the spa didn't strike me as a normal boy activity. The fact she had deemed it as a mother daughter day seemed even worse to me. Had I crossed some line which classified me as her daughter now? If that was the case, could I cross back over? And why did I suddenly want to go to the spa?

I jumped up from my little chair by the window. In about five steps I had cleared my room. My hand flew out to latch onto the frame of my door. The action gave me enough momentum to spin into the hallway almost in a full sprint. Then I had to slam on the brakes, as I nearly ran into my mother. She stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a big smile on her face.

"Change your mind?"

"Yes!" I said.

"Thought so," she said, giving me a wink.

"Well you already made the appointment," I said. "Might as well use it."

"Go take your nail polish off," she said, "and put on something comfortable. We'll leave in about thirty minutes."

I blazed back into my room. In one move I had closed my door and grabbed the nail polish remover. After carefully removing every last trace of pale pink polish I could find, I flew to my closet to find an outfit. I figured I wasn't dressing to impress, but rather dressing to undress quickly. So I started rummaging through all of the loose-fitting comfortable clothes.

Finally I settled on a pair of dark gray yoga pants. They were lightweight, and would be comfortable as it had been a bit cooler that weekend. To go with them, I pulled out a simple heather gray t-shirt with a slight V neckline. The collar, hem, and bottoms of the sleeves all had a maroon color. I put them to the side, on my bed, and went to my dresser. From the dresser, I pulled out a pair of plain white panties and a white padded bra.

By the time I'd gotten dressed, my mother came back to check on me. I sat on the edge of my bed, pulling my socks on, as she came in the door. She walked over close to me. As I finished adjusting my socks, she pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I felt her put one of those elastic hair bands around it to hold it in place. Then she watched as I slipped on my white mule sneakers.

"I made you a light breakfast," she said. "It's on the table. I want you to drink plenty of water today." She stepped toward the door. "I'm going to get ready now. We need to leave the house by nine."

Light breakfast was an understatement. She had made me a piece of toast with honey, half of a grapefruit, and set out a bottle of water for me. I had never liked the taste of grapefruit, but I managed to eat it all. Then I choked down the toast between gulps of water. I took the bottle with me to the bathroom and set it on the counter. After relieving myself and brushing my teeth, I was set to go.

My mother appeared ready to go as well. She sat in the living room, transferring items from one purse to another. When I walked in, she smiled at me. I returned the smile, and then took notice of her outfit. She had on a black skirt, knee length, with a beige short-sleeve blouse. The finishing touch was a pair of black pumps with four inch heels.

She seemed a bit dressed up for a trip to the spa. I started to wonder if she was going for herself, or just taking me there. Surely she wouldn't spend her entire gift on me. At least I hoped that wasn't the case. She worked hard, and deserved a break from time to time. Not only did she keep a house going, but her job seemed to be very demanding.

"You ready dear?" my mother asked.

"I guess so," I said. "I'm a little nervous."

"Oh don't be," she said as she stood up. "The more you relax, the better the experience. I think you'll enjoy the package I picked for you. It cost a little extra, but I want your first time to be perfect."

"Thank you," I said. "You do enough for me already."

"Well…" She put her hand on my shoulder. "I want you to see there's a softer side of life. Not everything has to be rigid." She caressed my cheek with her hand. "Sometimes us girls just need to be pampered."

"Well let's go get pampered," I said.

"Let's," she said, giving me a big smile.

Minutes later we were sitting on the freeway in her car. I never got to go downtown much. In fact the last time I had been wasn't exactly pleasant. My grandma had heart problems, and they took her to the larger hospital there. She made it through the ordeal, but I could never say I enjoyed the visit. So granted the bar was set pretty low for this current trip.

My mother, used to driving here for work, expertly maneuvered through a mindless series of loops and exits. When we pulled out onto Broadway, I finally got to see the city alive during the day time. People hurried down the busy street on both sides. Their apparel ranged from casual summer wear to sophisticated business attire. Some of the stores were still decorated with patriotic displays for the Fourth of July.

As we neared our destination, I started to get nervous. Doubt and apprehension filled me up, to the point I felt a bit nauseous. About half a block away, just past a stoplight, the sign for the spa jutted out from a large sand-stoned building. Amidst a colorful blue background, between two palm trees, were the words "Oasis Day Spa" in bright pink curly letters.

Perhaps we got there too early in the day, or they weren't busy, but we found a parking spot behind the building. I figured we would have to park in a garage and walk several blocks. After I realized my mother didn't turn off the car, I started to wonder why. When I looked up at the sign in front of us, it suddenly dawned on me. She had pulled into a spot reserved to drop people off.

"Aren't you coming in?" I asked, almost frantic.

"Of course," my mother said. "My appointment isn't for another hour though. I'll be back in plenty of time to get you."

"I don't want to go in there alone," I said.

"Honey they're expecting you." My mother turned to face me. "Besides, you're going to be alone in there for the most part. Well… not alone." She placed her hand on my shoulder. "Since it's your fist time, they'll have someone to assist you and answer any questions you have." Her hand moved to my hair. "Just go in and tell the girl at the desk your name is Bailey. Everything is set up for you."

"What about you?"

"I have some errands to run," she said. "Not to mention I need to find parking. You don't want to make me late for my appointment do you?"

"No…"

"Then go honey. You'll be fine." She caressed my cheek. "I promise."

I faked a smile. In all honesty, I really wanted my hand held on this. I didn't even know if I could make it to the door without fainting. My hand moved to the buckle on the seatbelt. As I slipped it off, my mother leaned over and pointed at her cheek. I glanced around, and then quickly gave her a peck on the cheek. Then I reached for the door handle.

"Oh!" My mother said. "I almost forgot." She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. "Give this to the receptionist."

I took the envelope in hand. It had "Bailey" neatly written on the front, and was sealed shut. After exiting the car, my mother waved at me. I waved to her, and closed the door. She waited until I had walked around to the side of the building before she pulled out of the spot. Part of me wanted to run back to the car, but I pressed onward. Soon I found myself in front of the glass double door.

A soft melodic bell filled the air with a chime as I stepped in. The front office smelled like a botanical garden, but it barely hid the stiff office building smell underneath. At the front desk a nice young woman looked up with a smile. She had red wavy hair, obviously died, and soft makeup over her flawless skin. A pair of small rectangular glasses rested gently atop her small upturned nose.

"Welcome to Oasis Day Spa," the young woman said. "My name is Linda. How may I help you today?"

"I…" I swallowed as I stepped toward the desk. "I have an appointment for Bailey."

Linda looked down at her schedule book. "Bailey…" After a moment of pretending to search the entire United States phonebook, she tapped her finger on a spot. "Ah! Bailey!" She looked up at me. "I believe it's your first time at a spa?"

"That's correct," I said.

"Well I'm delighted you chose us for your spa experience." She looked at the schedule. "It seems you have a pretty busy day planned as well." She turned to the phone and picked it up. "You'll be assisted by Melanie today. If there are any questions, she'll be more than happy to answer them for you."

"My mother asked me to give this to you," I said, sliding the envelope over the counter. "She'll be back in an hour."

"Excellent," Linda said, taking the envelope. "I'll be sure to pass this along." She spoke quietly into the phone. "Bailey is here for her ten fifteen." She put the phone back on the pad and pointed to the door on her right. "You can step through there. Melanie will be along shortly to take you where you need to be."

"Thank you," I said, giving Linda a nervous smile.

"Enjoy!" Linda said.

I stepped over to the door, and pushed myself to open it. As I stepped through to the other side, I found myself in a small waiting area. I was about to take a seat, when a young woman walked into the room on the opposite side. Her smile made me feel at ease. She stepped across the room and extended her hand. I instantly warmed up to her, even though she looked about five or six years older than me.

"Bailey?"

"Hello," I said, taking her hand.

"Hi. I'm Melanie." She gave me a gentle handshake. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I said. "A little nervous."

"Well don't be nervous," Melanie said. "I know, easier said than done." She took my other hand. "We want you to feel relaxed, and enjoy your time here." She let my hands drop. "I'll be here if you have any questions." She looked at the thin gold watch on her left wrist. "Why don't we get you to your changing room? I'm sure once you change into a robe, you'll feel a bit better."

Melanie turned on her stylish black pumps. They had a slim four inch heel, and really made her calves stand out in her nude hose. She dressed smart, and the sophistication in her apparel made her seem even older. Her hips swayed in her black pencil line skirt, a somewhat tight knit skirt which danced around her knees. I couldn't help but watch her firm bottom dance beneath the hem of her slinky red blouse.

She slowed as we neared a door in the hallway. I watched her knock three times on the door, before she opened it. Then she spun again, this time on her toes, to face me. With a pleasant smile on her oval face, she extended her arm into the room. I brushed past her, and found myself in a comfortable, posh changing room. Melanie stepped into the room behind me, and instantly went to a small closet.

"You can put your things in here," she said as she slid the door back. "We have a robe for you." She stepped over to a counter. "There are slippers here, and a wrap if you'd like to enjoy the steam room." She faced me. "I would highly suggest the steam room, but if you don't feel up to it, a nice hot shower should help you relax. You'll have plenty of time before you meet Theresa." Her hand moved to point at a small room. "Feel free to use the private facilities in there."

"Where do I meet Theresa?"

"Oh…" Melanie took a few steps away from the counter. "I'll come looking for you when it's time for your facial. You'll have plenty of time to relax in here, or in the relaxation room." She placed her hands in front of her skirt, taking her right wrist in her left hand. "Also, feel free to wear whatever you feel comfortable in." Her voice lowered. "A lot of first timers are apprehensive about nudity, and prefer to wear their undergarments under their robes. Some even choose to wear their street clothes, but I find the robe to be a lot more comfortable."

"Do I just stay in here and wait for you?"

"You can wait in here, or you can relax in the large room down at the end of the hall at any time. We call it the relaxation room. Just turn right as you exit here. Please be advised the relaxation room is co-ed, so modesty should be observed at all times." Melanie stepped over close to me. The scent of pineapple and jasmine danced from her and settled beneath my nose. "Unless you have any questions, I'll leave you to it."

"What fragrance is that you're wearing?"

"Oh this?" Melanie lifted her wrist to her small round nose. "It's ck one." She extended her wrist to me. "Guys and girls wear it. It's especially popular with teenagers."

I leaned closer and inhaled. It smelled citrusy, yet subtle, but also had a light musk to it. "I love it."

"I can get you a sample of it if you'd like?"

"Could you?" I smiled as she moved her hand away.

"Not a problem," Melanie said. "I can go get that now." She gave me a wink. "Anything else I can assist you with?"

"I think I can manage for now," I said.

"I'll let you get settled then."

Melanie dropped a key into my hand. Then she slipped past me. She pulled an "Occupied" sign from the handle of the door, and slipped it onto the handle on the outside. After she closed the door, I stepped over to lock it. I turned back to the room and decided to look around.

The floor had thick plush carpet, of a sandy color. In the middle there sat a large oval seat, rose colored, with plenty of cushion. I sat down on it and decided to slip my shoes and socks off, knowing it would make me feel more comfortable as I got acquainted with my surroundings. My bare feet sank into the carpet as I stood. I took a stroll around the room.

On one wall there sat a large vanity with a circular mirror. I flicked on a light switch next to it, and several lights lit up the mirror. There seemed to be plenty of room for a woman to set out her makeup and fix herself up. Not that I had any on me. I put the key on the table, and flicked the light back off. The room returned to a relaxing mellow light.

I looked toward the private bathroom. Although I didn't care to experience the steam room this time around, I did feel a hot shower would be relaxing. I pulled my top off, and dropped my pants. After hanging my clothes up, I unhooked my bra and stepped out of my panties. Melanie said I could wear undergarments, so I decided to hold onto my panties. I hooked my bra over one of the hangers, and carried my panties with me to the shower.

I pulled the hair tie from my ponytail, and shook my hair out before stepping into the shower. The hot water felt so good cascading down my bare shoulders and back. They had a dispenser in the shower, which pumped out a mixed hair and body wash. It had a soothing vanilla scent, and left my skin feeling smooth and slick. I stayed in the shower for several minutes, never being able to enjoy one longer than ten minutes at home. However, I figured Melanie would be back for me, so I reluctantly pulled myself out of the shower.

I pulled a large fluffy white towel from the rack. After patting my hair and body dry, I slipped my panties back on. Then I wrapped the towel around me like Tiffany had shown me; the way women should. As I stepped out of the bathroom I finally felt relaxed. It seemed like the less I worried about trivial things, the better this all became for me.

I stepped over to the closet. My towel slipped from my body and fell into a pool around my feet. My hands reached out and felt the pale pink robe. It felt amazing, so soft and fluffy. I slipped it off of the hanger, and put my hands through the sleeves. As I closed the front around me, tying the belt snug, I noticed it had two little pockets sewn into it. I walked over and slipped my key into the right-hand pocket.

When I looked in the mirror, I noticed a little white O embroidered into the robe over the left breast. As my fingers were tracing the O, there came a light knock on the door. I didn't even think about who it was or anything. Somehow tracing my finger along the O worked me into an odd trance. Before I knew it I had reached for the handle and opened the door.

"I'm glad to see you're making yourself feel at home," Melanie said as she walked into the room. "I was able to find the fragrance you requested." She held up a small white bag with the spa's monogram written across it. "And I threw in a few other things you might enjoy." She held her finger up over her lips in a shush motion.

"Thank you," I said. "You don't have to go to all that trouble though."

"Oh it's no trouble at all," Melanie said. "It's my job." She placed the bag on the vanity table and turned to look at me. "Did you need any help with your hair?"

"I thought I would leave it as is," I said, not really thinking anything about it.

"Oh, don't be silly," Melanie said, stepping into the bathroom. "We can't have you walking around with wet hair."

She came back in with a small towel, and a pleasant smile on her face. Before I could say another word, she had stepped over to me and had started to put my hair up in the towel. I watched her happy green eyes dance, as she worked her hands around my hair. She noticed at some point and glanced down into my eyes.

"How old are you?" Melanie asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Twelve," I said. "You?"

"Seventeen," Melanie said. "I've been working here part-time for the past two summers, but I'm learning so much. My mother is one of the stylists here." She paused for a moment. "In fact, you might be seeing her later. Her name's Pam."

"I'll keep an eye out for her."

"She did my hair." She continued to work on my hair. "I think she's pretty good, but then again, she's my mother."

"I like your hair." I looked at her short, but spunky style. It looked like she had just woken up, but there was obvious style to it. Her dark hair seemed to go everywhere, but still retain a strange evenness.

"Well you're very cute. It might work for you," she said. "Are you starting junior high this year?"

"Yes." I went back to looking into her eyes, afraid to look anywhere else. "You think I'm cute?"

"Well, I only meant it as a friendly compliment." She looked down into my eyes. "I hope I didn't offend you."

"No, not at all," I said.

"Okay," she said. "Sometimes I talk too much, and it gets me into trouble."

"You and me both," I said with a smile.

"Oh?"

"It's gotten me into quite a bit of trouble already this summer."

"How so?" Melanie asked.

"I probably shouldn't say."

"If it has to do with you actually being a boy," Melanie said, lowering her eyes to give me a knowing look. "I already know."

"What?!"

Melanie stepped back. "All done!"

"You know?"

"We all do," Melanie said. "Your mother thought she should tell us up front incase an incident arose." She frowned at my speechlessness. "Don't let it bother you. We want you to feel at ease, which is why we're treating you like any other girl that comes in here."

"I can't believe she told you though," I said.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Melanie said. "I talk too much. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's not your fault." I stepped over and sat on the oval chair. "I was just hoping, you know… that today it wouldn't matter."

"Well it doesn't matter," Melanie said. "At least not to me, or any other woman or man in this building." She sat down next to me, crossing her left leg over her right knee toward me. "And we want you to enjoy this day like any other pampered woman would." She leaned closer to me. "By the way, don't tell anyone I sat down on the job, but these heels are killing me."

"Why do you wear them then?" I said, laughing lightly at her statement.

"Oh it's a big image thing I have to put on display for our clients," Melanie said. "Last year I couldn't wait to go back to sneakers and flats for school."

"Well you could get a lower heel."

"These make me look older though." She held her foot out and flexed it at the ankle. "Don't you think?"

"I have to admit, they do make your legs look nice." I glanced at her with a grin.

"Oh you're fine," she said, bumping me to the side. "If you're up to flirting with the help, you're up to a day at the spa."

"I suppose so," I said.

"Just pretend you're one of the girls," Melanie said. "Nobody will say anything to the contrary. I promise."

Melanie reached over and grabbed the slippers from the counter. Then she slid from the chair, and onto her knees in front of me. She held my feet up, one at a time, and slid the slippers onto them. They were fuzzy, and pale pink just like the robe. As she stood, she adjusted her skirt. Then she held out her hands, and helped me stand.

"We need to get you to your first appointment," Melanie said. "I'll be assisting Theresa, but then I won't see you again until after your manicure."

We exited the room. I walked close to Melanie's side as she took me down the hallway. When we reached the large room at the end, I instantly knew why they called it the relaxation room. They had chairs, and big fluffy couches everywhere. There were a ton of books and magazines littered all over the room. They also had aquariums and on one wall a water window.

An older lady, perhaps in her thirties, stepped out of a side room. She looked fit, perfectly proportioned, and had the healthiest skin I'd ever seen. Her bleach blonde hair was immaculately put up in a tight bun in the back. When she extended her hand, I noticed it was painstakingly groomed. Everything about the woman screamed she took excellent care of herself.

"I'm Theresa," the woman said.

I took her hand, noting it was smooth as silk. "Bailey."

"I have the room set up for you," Theresa said, pointing at the empty room from which she came. "Melanie can help you get settled in. She'll be assisting me today."

"Thank you," I said.

"I'll be in to see you in a few minutes."

Melanie led me into the empty room. I looked around and took in a few things at first glance. The most obvious thing to notice was the large table in the middle of the room. It had white sheets draped over it, with a large pillow at one end, and a smaller pillow at the other end. The second thing I noticed was three stools under a counter. I noticed the counter had a multitude of bottles and various beauty supplies on it.

"When I leave, you can put your robe on the hook there," Melanie said, pointing to a hook on the wall. "Your slippers go there." She pointed at a small stool under the hook. "You'll be disrobing, and slipping between these sheets." She walked over to the table and folded the top two sheets down at the corner. "Rest your head on this pillow, and we'll adjust the other one if we need to." She stepped to the side and faced me straight on. "This is where I have to give a speech."

"Okay," I said, giving her a small smile.

Melanie cleared her throat. "Here at the Oasis Day Spa, we adhere to the highest standards in protecting your modesty. At no time will you be asked to do anything deemed as inappropriate. If you feel uncomfortable at all, be sure to inform either myself, or Theresa." She paused for a breath. "We are here to help you relax and feel pampered. Feel free to communicate to us anything that would make your time here more enjoyable." She held her hands up, pretending to hold a sheet. "Please pull the top sheets to your armpits. Leave your bust covered tightly, but your arms exposed and holding the sheets down." She demonstrated with her pretend sheet. "Any questions?"

I shook my head. "None I can think of."

"Feel free to ask about any of the procedure," Melanie said. "Theresa will even talk you through it at your request."

"Thanks Melanie."

"You're quite welcome." She stepped around the table to the door. "Theresa will be in shortly. Please take this time to get settled in." With that, she exited the room and closed the door.

I pulled the belt loose on my robe, and slipped it off over my shoulders. After hanging it on the hook, I kicked off my slippers and put them on the stool. The carpet beneath my feet appeared to be for function, rather than comfort. It felt stiff, like cheap hotel carpet, but I wasn't looking to stand around on it for long anyway. After slipping onto the table, between the sheets, I pulled them up like Melanie demonstrated, and rested my head on the pillow. I had only been under the sheets for a minute or two, when someone gently knocked on the door.

"Come in," I called out.

The door opened slowly. "How are you today Bailey?" Theresa asked as she stepped into the room. Her voice sounded soft and melodic.

"I'm pretty good," I said. "How about yourself?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking." She stepped over to the side of the table where my head was at. "Let me give you a fresh, dry head wrap. Okay?"

"Okay."

Theresa set about removing the towel around my head. While she did this, Melanie came back into the room and closed the door behind her. There was a slight pause in Theresa's actions, but then she started smoothing out my hair. She held it up, and then placed it in a lighter weight wrap designed to keep my hair out of the way. Then she wrapped it up, and stepped over to the counter.

"Would you like any music or something else to listen to today?" Theresa asked. "We have harp music, sounds of the ocean, rain storm…"

"Sounds of the ocean sounds nice," I said.

"Excellent!" Theresa said. "How is the lighting? Too bright? Too dim?"

"It's fine," I said.

"Good," Theresa said, walking back over to me. "I want you to relax, and try to enjoy yourself." She held her hands to the sides of my face. "Close your eyes and relax. If you have any questions, please ask. I'll try to answer as best I can."

I closed my eyes. At my feet I could feel the sheets being lifted up just past my ankles. I felt a hand gently pick up my left foot and place it back down on a soft cushion. Then the same was done for my right foot, and the sheets were replaced. I knew it was Melanie at my feet, as Theresa started to apply a cool liquid on my throat.

"Melanie's just adjusting your foot pillow," Theresa said, as she started to rub in the liquid in small circular motions.

"What is that?" I asked.

"This is a face cleanser," Theresa said. "It will remove any traces of makeup, or any other residue left on your face."

She continued to rub the cleanser up onto my face. Her fingers moved in small circles over my chin, then down my jaw and up to my cheeks. She kept going up to my nose, and finally came back down from my forehead. I started to relax. Now I knew why my mother enjoyed this sort of thing. I felt kind of bad taking this opportunity away from some other real girl who could be in my place.

Theresa stepped away, and apparently went to the sink. I heard water running. Then I could hear her talking quietly to Melanie. Suddenly I got an image of Melanie in my head. She knew I was a boy, and still thought I was a cute girl. What was it about older girls thinking a boy pretending to be a girl was cute? Even Theresa knew, and it didn't bother her one bit. I assumed it was because they dealt with male and female clients, but then again, maybe they dealt with other people like me.

"I can start there then," Melanie said, walking past me on the left.

"You can do the second part while the mask sets up," Theresa said. She came back over to me. "Okay dear. I'm just going to remove the cleanser now, and then I'll be putting a steamed towel over your face." She started running a sponge over my throat, and then joined it with another sponge on the other side. "The towel will help open your pores and let your skin breathe."

"While she does that," Melanie said. "I'll be doing a little work on your hands, and later your feet."

"It will help prep you for your manicure and pedicure later," Theresa said.

Theresa finished wiping the cleanser off of my face with the wet sponges. I heard a stool roll up on my left side. Melanie took my hand delicately in her left hand. Starting with my index finger, she took each finger and went about cleaning my nails with nail polish remover. I was pretty sure I had gotten it all off at home, but I figured they went over them to make sure.

Theresa came back once more with a sponge, and went all over my face and throat once. Then she stepped to the counter and came back with a moist towel. She draped it on my chest, pausing briefly, I suppose incase it was too hot. Then she pulled it up to my chin, leaving my mouth and nose uncovered. She folded one corner over my eyes, and then the other, covering my forehead.

"This will stay on for about ten minutes," Theresa said. "So just relax, and I'll be back shortly."

I heard the door open and close. Then I was left with the sounds of the ocean, and the subtle sounds of Melanie working on my hands. She finished with my thumb on the left hand, and then wheeled her stool over to my right hand. I felt her pick up one finger at a time and continue with the nail polish remover. When she had finished, she stood and walked over to the counter.

She came back over and stood at my left side. I heard a plastic bottle open. Then I felt her apply a thick cream on the back of my hand. She went all the way up to my elbow with the cream. I heard her step over to my right side and repeat the process. Then she set the bottle down on the counter and came back to my left side.

Melanie started to massage the cream into my hands and arms. It felt gritty as she rubbed it in. She paid a lot of attention to my elbows, and my knuckles. Then she jumped over to my right side and repeated the process. When she felt satisfied she had rubbed the gritty cream in enough, she stepped over to the sink and turned the water on. She came back with a bowl of water and a sponge.

"That was an exfoliating cream," Melanie said softly. "It removes dead skin cells, and helps soften rough patches of skin. I would suggest you do it at home as often as needed." She started to remove the cream with the wet sponge. "The sooner you start, the better off your skin will be in the long run."

"I'll remember to do that then," I mumbled.

"It also helps get you ready for your manicure, and I'll be doing the same for your pedicure." She rang the sponge out and moved it back over my arm. "Theresa will be doing the same to your face when she comes back in."

After cleaning my left arm off, she went over to the right to repeat the process. She stopped in between to get a clean bowl of water. When she seemed satisfied she had removed it all, she went back to the sink to clean the bowl and sponge. She came back and put another oily substance on my arm. Then she started massaging it in.

"This is olive oil, with a lavender extract," Melanie said. "It's what I use, and it leaves your skin feeling oh so smooth. I absolutely love it. Use it all the time after each shower." She leaned closer to my ear as she continued to massage my arm. "I put a bottle in your bag to take home with you."

"Thanks," I said.

"Don't mention it," Melanie said. "No really… don't mention it." She giggled a little.

"I won't," I said, enjoying her light mood.

Theresa came through the door about a minute later. She stepped over to the counter and I could hear her getting something prepared. Then I felt her removing the towel from my chest. She pulled it up slowly to my chin. After a short pause, she continued to pull the towel from my face. She leaned over me, and pushed and poked at my skin for a minute.

"I'm going to use a light exfoliating cream now," Theresa said. "It will get rid of dead skin cells and help promote new growth."

She started to rub something on my throat and chin. Using circular motions as she did before, she brought the substance up onto my face. It smelled like pumpkins. I also noticed it wasn't as gritty as the cream used on my arms. Theresa continued to apply it until she had my face covered.

Melanie moved over to my right hand and started to massage the olive oil into my skin. Theresa, meanwhile, came back in a minute or so and started to remove the exfoliating cream. When she had finished removing it all, Theresa came back and started to massage my shoulders. She moved back and forth from my shoulders to my chest. Then she started massaging the sides and back of my neck.

All of the stress I had dealt with since Tom caught me as Bailey, started to melt away. However, thinking about Tom also brought recent questions to my mind. I didn't quite understand his mood change toward me. He obviously didn't agree with what I was doing, but yet he wanted me to do it. Then he wanted me to pick a gender. I thought nature had already done that for me. Nothing made sense anymore.

Theresa moved to my temples and started to rub in circular motions. Melanie finished with my hand and right arm, but then I felt her stoop over me. I felt more olive oil string across one shoulder to the other. Then Melanie started massaging the oil into my upper arms, chest and shoulders. Theresa continued to work on my temples until Melanie finished.

They both seemed to taper off the massage, and then moved over to the counter together. I heard water running once more, and a few mumbled words between them. Eventually Theresa came back over to me. She began rubbing another cream on my face that smelled a bit like mint. I noticed it was a lot stickier and heavier than anything else she had used.

"This is called a mask," Theresa said, somehow noting my curiosity. "It will take about ten to fifteen minutes to set up." She continued to spread the cream over my cheeks and temples. "It will harden a bit and feel like it's pulling at your skin." She spread it over my forehead. "I'm using a balanced mask for your young skin. It will help with oily and dry areas your changing skin might have."

"While that sets up," Melanie said, pulling a stool to the foot of the table. "I'll be working on your feet and lower legs."

"Okay," I said.

Theresa leaned over me. "Try not to talk a lot or move your face with this on."

"Okay," I repeated.

"Good girl," Theresa said. "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes." She finished applying the mask. Then she washed her hands, placed a cucumber slice over each one of my eyes, and left the room.

I was left alone with Melanie once more. She had lifted the sheets up just slightly past my knees. As I lay there in silence, Melanie started going over my toenails with nail polish remover. She took her time, doing one toe at a time. When she seemed satisfied, she put a thick line of the exfoliating cream on each leg, from my knees down to my toes.

She stepped over to the counter momentarily to put the nail polish remover up. Then she came back to my feet and started rubbing the cream in. She paid special attention to my knees, heels and the balls of my feet. Each leg was thoroughly covered from the knees down. After a few more minutes of rubbing, Melanie moved over to the sink.

Once again she came back with a bowl of water and a sponge. I could feel the mask start to harden as Melanie started to remove the cream from my legs. She started at my knees, making sure to get it off of the backs of my legs. Then she dragged the sponge down my legs to my ankles. When she reached my feet, she took great care in removing the cream between my toes.

A minute later Melanie was back at my feet. She dribbled olive oil in zigzag motions down my shins. Then she began massaging the oil into my legs. After Melanie massaged the oil into my calves and shins, she moved to my knees. A few times her hands slipped up my thighs under the sheets, but not enough to make me feel uncomfortable. It felt good.

Eventually she moved the massage on down to my feet. She made an effort to massage the oil into each toe, and between them as well. Her thumbs rolled across the soles of my feet. From the amount of time she spent on them, as opposed to everywhere else, I wondered if she had a foot fetish as well. Maybe she was reflecting her own discomfort of her feet onto my feet. My curiosity was squelched when she started talking again.

"I've been learning massage techniques and how to care for feet," Melanie said. "They even have me assisting with your pedicure today."

"You're doing a wonderful job," I mumbled through the mask.

"Well thank you," Melanie said. "That's very kind of you to say." She continued to massage my soles, rolling her fist into the arches. "I'm thinking of becoming a podiatrist. You know? A doctor specializing in feet."

"Sounds like you got your future planned out," I said. "I don't know what I want to be."

"Well you have plenty of time to decide on a career," Melanie said.

"Oh…" I lowered my voice. "I meant boy or girl. I've been going back and forth on it in my mind ever since this all started."

"Oh I see," Melanie said. "Well if you don't mind my asking… Do you enjoy being a girl?"

"I'm enjoying it right now," I said with a slight laugh.

Melanie slapped my right foot gently. "I'm serious." She went back to massaging my foot. "Do you enjoy it?"

"I do at times."

"Is it the clothes or do you like fooling people?"

"I never did it to fool anyone," I said. "At least not on purpose." I shifted a little, feeling a bit uncomfortable from the questions. "I do like the clothes though."

"They are fun," Melanie said. "Guys clothes seem boring to me." She sat silent for a moment before popping the next question. "Do you try to act like a girl?"

"Again, not purposely," I said. "My girlfriend says I do even when I'm not trying."

"Oh you have a girlfriend?" Melanie asked. "What's her name?"

"Tiffany," I said. "Her sister Kate is your age."

"Kate Stewart?"

"Yes…"

"I know her!" Melanie said. "I had three classes with her last year. Wait a minute!" She stopped massaging my foot and held it in her hand. "Was that you at the pool party with Tiffany?"

"Yes," I said nervously.

"I wouldn't have even guessed…" Melanie took my left foot in her right hand. "I mean I never put you together with…" She started to massage both feet together. "Wow! To think there was a boy there besides Rebecca's annoying brother." She let out a small laugh. "Well, I guess in all honesty there really wasn't." She shook my feet. "I mean no boy would wear a swimsuit like that."

"I suppose not," I said.

"Did you want to learn how to be more feminine?" Melanie asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Walking, talking… You know? How to act the part?"

"I never really thought about it," I said. "Was just doing this for fun and it got a bit out of hand."

"I would love to work with you," Melanie said. "We can all get together and work on it."

"I don't know…"

"Oh please?" Melanie begged. "It would be so much fun."

"I guess we could," I said. "I'm over at Tiffany's quite a bit."

"I'll call Kate then," Melanie said. "We can set something up." She held my feet firmly for a moment. "Oh this is going to be so much fun!"

After a light knock on the door, Theresa breezed back into the room. Melanie finished up the massage, and pulled the sheets back down to cover my feet. I heard them both over at the sink, mumbling beneath the running water. Theresa came over to my face and carefully removed the cucumber slices. Then she set about wiping the mask off with sponges.

Melanie came over to my left side. "Bailey…" She placed her hand on my arm, causing me to open my eyes. "I'm going to go inform them you're ready for your manicure. I'll be seeing you a little later on." After giving me a knowing wink, she removed her hand and stepped back.

"Thank you," I said.

"Take care," Melanie said, before exiting the room.

"I noticed you have a healthy tan," Theresa said as she stepped back over to me. "I'm just afraid you got a bit too much sun. I'd like to give you a moisturizer to help restore damaged skin. It needs to be applied daily for a couple of weeks. This is what you'll be using." She started to apply the moisturizer to my throat, neck and face. "It has a nice subtle cherry and vanilla scent for summer."

"It smells very nice," I said.

"I'll have the moisturizer up front for you when you leave. Just remember… once a day for two weeks," Theresa said. "Although you don't have to stop using it then if you like it." She started to unwrap my hair. "In fact, I would suggest you continue to moisturize daily if you'll be in the sun a lot." She pulled the wrap from my head. "Take a minute or two getting up, and then you can dress and wait out in the relaxation room."

"Thank you Theresa," I said. "You were wonderful."

"Well thank you," Theresa said. "It was nice to meet you Bailey, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your day here."

"Goodbye," I said.

"Take care now," Theresa said before leaving the room.

I waited about a minute to get up, making sure nobody would come back in the room. Then I slipped my legs out from under the sheets. I sat there on the table for a moment, letting my legs dangle from the side. As soon as the blood came back to my extremities, I stepped down off of the table. I walked over and slipped on my robe and slippers, then I exited the room.

Out in the relaxation room, I took a bottle of water from a table filled with snacks and drinks. I stepped over to a large pillow-cushioned chair and curled up on it. For several minutes I just sat there, taking sips of water from the bottle. Soothing harp music filled the air. My face felt full of life, and my feet felt like I'd never walked a day in my life.

I began to wonder if I could start to enjoy being a girl fulltime. Sure Tom wouldn't agree with it, but my body sure as hell agreed with it. I felt so good at that moment, so relaxed and so sure of myself. As I sat and dreamed about what it would be like to live as a woman, a young woman in her twenties came in and sat across the room from me. I watched her for a moment pick up a magazine, and then she spotted me.

We exchanged smiles. I went back to sipping my water. For a moment nothing could be heard but the harp music from the speakers overhead. I heard the woman flip a page of her magazine. Then out of the blue, she dropped the magazine and looked at me. I sat frozen for a moment until she tossed the magazine down on the table, and grabbed another.

"Bailey?"

I turned to see a young black woman standing at the end of the room. She was a bit heavy set, but had a lovely complexion. Her black hair, straightened, was put up much like Vivian Bank's hair on the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I motioned in the affirmative to her. Then I straightened myself out in the chair, prepared to stand and follow her.

"Well come on girl," the woman said. "Let's go make them nails pretty."

I smiled at her, removing myself from the chair.

"Name's Tonya." She extended her hand.

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking her hand.

"We'll be in here," Tonya said, taking my water bottle and ushering me into another room.

Tonya stepped into the room behind me, placing my bottle on a counter by the door. The room had several tables setup with a padded chair on one side, and a conventional desk chair on the other. Tonya walked me over to the padded chair and helped me into it. She walked around to the other side and took a seat. Then she fidgeted with a few things on the table. Eventually she seemed satisfied with everything, and gave me a big smile.

"Go on and put your hands up here," Tonya said, patting a large soft pad.

I put my hands up on the table. Tonya reached out and took my right hand, examining it for a moment, and then she examined the left. I noticed she had some very soft hands. She rolled the sleeves of my robe up to my elbows. After this she pulled a small kidney-shaped basin over and placed my hands into the warm water inside of it.

"You have some lovely little hands," Tonya said. "Don't think I'll have to do much at all to them." She smiled pleasantly at me. "We'll just doll them up for you."

"Thank you," I said.

"Most girls your age be bitin' their cheap polish off," Tonya said. "Drives me crazy having to fix all of their torn up nails." She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Now I want you to take good care of these hands, you hear?"

"I will," I said with a small smile.

"Keep them soft to the touch, and your nails well groomed. Can always tell a lady by the way they take care of their hands," Tonya said. "You probably know that from watching Gone with the Wind though. Am I right?"

"I'm afraid I haven't seen it," I said.

"Girl, you need to watch that," Tonya said. "It's a classic! In fact, read the book." She sat back shaking her head. "Always good for girls your age to be well-read."

"I'll do both then," I said.

"That's my girl," Tonya said. "Good for you."

She let my hands sit in the basin for a few minutes, before taking my left hand out and placing it on a towel. Then the jovial Tonya started to apply a cream onto my nails, as she hummed quietly. She set the bottle down, and I read "cuticle softener" on the label. To be honest, I didn't have a clue what a cuticle even was until that day. Tonya massaged the cream a little bit into base of my nails.

After about a minute or two, she wiped my nails off with the edge of the towel. Then she took a stick and started pushing back my cuticles. If anything, I could say I learned at least one thing that day that I never knew before. She went from nail to nail, pushing the cuticle back. When she finished with the stick, she came back to my pinky and ring finger with scissors that looked like little pliers, and snipped some rough skin away.

She placed my hand back into the basin, and took out my right hand to repeat the process. Several minutes later she had both hands out on the towel. I watched her go from nail to nail with a file, shaping my nails into an oval shape at the ends. Next she came back with another type of file and started working on the top of the nails. She called it buffing, and I noticed it made my nails smooth.

"Alright girly girl," Tonya said, dipping my fingers in the water a couple of times and then wiping them dry. "What color can I set you up with today?"

"What do you have?"

"Anything your little heart desires," Tonya said, standing up and walking to a large counter on the other side of the room. "Red, blue, French manicure. You could even go a little wild with that tan. Maybe do a yellow or orange." She looked back at me. "But you look more like a pink type of girl to me." She smiled. "Am I right?"

"I do tend to wear pink on them quite a bit," I said.

"I thought so girl," Tonya said. "Which would you like? Carnation? Rose?"

She brought over a chart of pinks for me to look at. I went with my first instinct. My finger landed on the first color that caught my eye. Tonya gave me a big smile.

"I thought you'd pick that one," Tonya said. "Shocking pink." She put the chart back over on the counter. "Even brighter than hot pink. Perfect for a bright young girl like yourself."

She came back over to her chair with the nail polish. After sitting down, she took a bottle of base coat and set it between my hands. I watched her open the bottle, and then she gathered up my left hand in her left hand. For the next several minutes I watched each nail go from dull, to shiny. Then they went from shiny to bright pink, and finally shiny bright pink. Tonya set my hands down gently to let them dry.

"There we go Bailey," Tonya said. "Boys will be dying for you to touch them with those soft girly hands now."

"I don't really get attached to boys," I said, trying to avoid the awkwardness of her last statement.

"Girl that's okay," Tonya said. "I don't either." She laughed a bit. "But they always fun to toy with."

I even had to laugh at her sentiment. "I guess so."

"Melanie will be in here in a few minutes to take you for your pedicure," Tonya said. "I'll send this color along. I just know you want them cute little toes to match."

"Thank you Tonya," I said. "I enjoyed having you do my nails."

"Don't mention it girl," Tonya said. "I like you. You're good fun." She held her finger up, like giving me a lecture. "Now you go easy on them nails for about half an hour. Don't want to go messing up my work now."

"I'll go easy," I said. "Promise."

"Good girl."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"Come back and see me anytime girl," Tonya said before slipping out of the room.

About twenty minutes later I found myself sitting in a large comfortable chair. My feet sat in a basin of bubbling water and bath salts. Melanie stood over with a older woman named Emily. The skinny Emily, perhaps in her late forties, was explaining to Melanie the steps they were taking during my pedicure.

I recalled Emily staring down her pointed nose, past her wire-framed glasses, at me with her gray eyes, while she asked me if it would be alright for Melanie to use me for a learning experience. I happily agreed. Maybe if I was older I would've preferred to enjoy the spa in silence. However, at my young age, it didn't really bother me for people to talk. It actually made me feel at ease.

So Emily took Melanie through the steps of a pedicure. They soaked my feet in the bath for about ten minutes. Emily had instructed Melanie to take my left foot out and scrub at it with a small stiff brush. Then she had her repeat the process with my right foot, and put them back in to soak for a few more minutes. The whole time she instructed Melanie with a quiet, reserved, and at times a dry voice.

I sat back and tried to enjoy myself. As she instructed Melanie to work on my heels with what she called a pumice stone, I took small sips from my bottle of water. Emily explained the pumice stone would leave my feet feeling smooth and silky. Once Melanie had done both feet, Emily went back over them to double check. The rest of the pedicure was done solely by Emily, but she continued to instruct Melanie on what she was doing.

Emily followed the pumice stone with cuticle softener, and pushed my cuticles back like Tonya had done to my fingernails earlier. She took a lot more time with the scissors than Tonya had. Emily continued to find more and more places to dig callused skin out to clip. I have to admit later, that due to her thorough job, my feet felt amazing.

Next she clipped, filed and buffed my nails. Finally she finished them off by painting them up in the same shocking pink as my finger nails. Melanie really seemed stricken with the color I chose. Knowing what she knew about me, she probably thought I was more girl than boy. Truth be told, at the moment I felt more that way.

Emily left me with Melanie to finish up. Melanie drained the basin I had my feet in. Then she went about wiping up any spilled water. I sat back in the chair and relaxed as I was told. Eventually Melanie finished up her work and stood before me. I sat up to look at her.

"We're going to let you sit in here for about ten minutes," Melanie said. "It will be plenty of time for your nails to dry." She stepped to the door. "So just relax, take it easy, and drink your water. I'll go inform Pam you're ready for your cut and style."

"Cut and style?" I asked looking at her confused.

"Your haircut silly!" Melanie said. "You're going to look so cute when my mother gets done with you." She smiled. "I'm sure nobody will be able to tell you're a boy when she's done."

Melanie gave me a wink, and quickly left the room. I was speechless. Not once did my mother mention cutting my hair. She absolutely didn't mention I'd be unrecognizable as a boy when this day was through. I felt like running out of there at that very instant. The only problem was, all I could think about was not ruining my nails. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with my family!? And where was my mom?

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 6

I couldn't believe it! Mindlessly I let myself be led from the pedicure room through the relaxation room and into a full service salon. Before I could conjure up a rational thought, I watched a cape whisk over my front. The stylish woman, in the mirror behind me, lifted my hair out of the way as she fastened the collar of the cape around my neck. Her thin delicate hands sifted through my hair as she teased it.

"Seems I have a lot to work with here." She leaned over me. Her dark auburn hair dangled down my shoulder. "My name's Pam. I'll be your stylist today Bailey."

"Nice to meet you," I said cautiously, still in shock at the turn of events.

Looking back on it now, it really wasn't much of a surprise how I ended up there. I had let myself be talked into a visit to the spa by my mother. She had casually called it a mother daughter day. Little did I know she actually wanted to turn me into her daughter. There I sat in a hairstylist's chair, being pumped up toward certain ridicule. Soon my somewhat effeminate hair would be truly feminine, and I didn't have the courage to back out of it.

"Your mother picked the style out of a magazine, but I was wondering if you wanted something a little different," Pam said.

In a semiconscious state of mind I managed to piece together what Pam had said. Her nimble index finger pointed at a page ripped from a magazine. It sat precariously under her mirror, and seemed to reflect back at me mockingly. The model's bright blonde hair tickled her shoulders, and went up in playful layers to the top of her head. Slightly curled bangs fell past her eyes, and were light enough to be able to see the blonde's smiling green eyes through the hair.

Pam leaned over me again. "I know you're probably stunned by all of this." I felt her hand reach out and turn my chin to face her. "If I leave it a bit long, you can always cut it again before school starts." Her bright red lips framed her pleasant smile. "You'd probably like that option I'm sure."

"Does my mom really want it that way?" I asked.

Pam stepped over to the counter of her station. "I want to know what you want," she said. "This whole day has been about you, and this hairstyle should be about you as well."

"I like my hair," I said, looking into the mirror.

"I can style it without cutting it," Pam said.

I shook my head.

"Your mother won't be mad," Pam said. "She'll understand."

"It's not that," I said.

"Did you want a different style? I can give you a magazine to look through."

I continued to shake my head. "Maybe…"

"What sweetie?"

"Could you make it like Melanie's," I said. "Only a little longer."

Pam smiled. "I can do that." She stepped over behind me and played with my hair a bit. "Is that what you really want?"

"I think so…"

"It'll be really feminine," Pam said. "Just warning you."

I stared into the mirror for a moment. My mother actually wanted me to be a girl. At least I thought she did. Tom, my stepfather, on the other hand, was totally against it, but said it was up to me. My brother Justin had been calling me Bailey since Tuesday when we discussed changing my name from Zachary. Even my girlfriend Tiffany wanted me to be a girl. It seemed like everyone around me wanted Bailey except me.

"I want it to be," I said.

Pam's eyebrow raised in the mirror behind me. "You sure?"

"I want to look as feminine as possible," I said, without a hint of doubt in my voice.

"In that case," Pam said, "might I suggest some work on your eyebrows?"

"If it'll help," I said. "I don't wanna be recognized…" I lowered my voice, though we were alone. "As a boy."

"I can definitely do that for you," Pam said. "I can't guarantee it'll all go back to normal by school though."

"I can deal with that," I said.

"So be it," Pam said. "You're braver than I thought."

She continued to play with my hair for a moment. A pleasant smile sat frozen on her tan face. If I didn't know any better, I could swear she was waiting for me to change my mind. Eventually she eased my hair down, and stepped over to her counter. She came back with a spray bottle in one hand and a comb in the other. With one more decided look in the mirror, she set about wetting my hair and combing it out.

I sat in a daze for a long moment. In the mirror I watched my hair go from nearly dry to workably wet. Pam now appeared dedicated to the task. As she combed my wavy hair out as straight as possible, pulling the comb through a few rats, she took on this aura of seriousness. After a few more moments of combing out my hair, she put the spray bottle back onto her counter. Then she walked back behind me with the comb and a pair of scissors.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Pam asked.

I eyed the scissors and comb in the mirror. My wet hair fell in strings around my head. This was my last chance to scream "negative" and to abort the mission. I didn't. Even with all of her warnings and chances to get out of this, I wanted it to continue. The reflection in the mirror, of the pretty girl with the wet hair, nodded.

"Okay," Pam said in a serene tone. "I'm going to start with doing some choppy layers on your sides, back and crown. Then we'll move to the front and give you some cute bangs."

Start she did. In a matter of seconds, Pam had taken the plunge into my hair. Her nimble fingers maneuvered the scissors like a trained surgeon. I had never had my hair cut by anyone considered a professional, at least not in my opinion. Usually I was taken to the local ten dollar hack job place. Like all things that day, this too was a new experience.

"Since your hair is naturally wavy," Pam said. "I'm going to try to leave a bit of wave at the end of each layer." She paused to put her hand on my shoulder. "I don't know if I'll be successful, but I'll try. It should also leave it a bit longer." She smiled and went back to cutting.

I watched her drag the comb through my slick hair. Then she expertly cut it off at the same length. In the mirror I could see my hair slowly transform. Up to this point it had been a bit long, but with no shape to it. Now, as the sides began to step down in layer upon choppy layer, it was truly starting to look like a girl's hairstyle.

"I'm going to leave the back a little long," Pam said, putting her finger halfway down the back of my neck. "You have a natural flip there, and I think it'll look cute." She started cutting my hair in the back. "I'm layering it much the same way as the sides."

By the time Pam had worked up to the top of my head, before the bangs, I could already see there was no way I'd ever be called a boy. It didn't matter how boyish I made myself look, or what clothes I wore. People would either call me a tomboy, a girl, or a sissy. At that moment, I didn't care anymore. I liked the way my hairstyle was turning out.

Pam spun my chair around to where I sat facing her. With my back to the mirror, I couldn't see her finish her masterpiece. It didn't seem to matter anyway, as I kept my eyes shut for the next part. She combed my hair out in the front, leaving long strands draped over my face. I could feel her then taking strands at a time and cutting them off.

"Keep those pretty blue eyes closed," Pam said. "I'm layering your bangs too, but I think you'll look cute with asymmetric bangs."

"What does that mean?" I asked, unsure of the meaning of asymmetric. Did I learn that in elementary school?

"It means they'll be longer on one side than the other," Pam said. "In your case, I'm leaving the left side longer than the right." She continued to cut. "If they bother you later, you can have your mom straighten them. I just think it works for you personally."

"Okay." I really didn't have much else to say to her explanation.

When Pam had finished with my bangs, she went back over my hair. In various spots she took a little more off. She walked back to her counter without turning my chair back around. After a few seconds, she came back. I caught glimpse of something shiny and metallic in her hand. Then she lifted her hand to my face and I realized she held a pair of tweezers.

"I'm just going to clean up a few hairs on your eyebrows," Pam said. "This might hurt a bit at first, but you get used to it really quick."

She was right. It hurt a bit at first as she quickly plucked hairs from my eyebrows. After several plucks, however, the area became numb. In my head I tried to conjure up what the meaning of "a few" was to her. It seemed like she spent half an hour plucking at my eyebrows. Maybe I was just anxious to see the finished product. Eventually she rubbed both eyebrows gently with her thumbs.

"There," she said. "That wasn't so bad was it?"

"Not really," I said.

"You're actually a bit lucky," she said. "Some blondes your shade have blonde eyebrows as well." She came back with a hairdryer and a round brush. "You got the dark ones people can see, and they honestly were shaped quite nicely to begin with."

Pam set about drying my hair. She used the brush to curl the wavy ends of my hair. I was dying to see what she had done to me. The slow methodic way she dried my hair drove me crazy. I could've sworn she was deliberately postponing the inevitable.

Finally she seemed satisfied with the level of dryness of my hair. She walked back to her counter to put the hairdryer and brush away. When she came back I noticed she was playing with some sort of styling wax. Her fingers plunged into my hair. They flexed back and forth, pulling and teasing here and there. As she worked the final touches into my hair, she turned the chair slowly to face the mirror.

"And there we are," Pam said.

My eyes must've grown about five times their normal size. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. Wavy layers popped out everywhere on my head. In the back, my hair flipped out to each side of my neck. Above my eyes, wispy bangs swept to the left, curling inward and lightly brushing across my thin, and now slightly arched eyebrows. My pouty lips dropped open as I beheld the girl in the mirror. Pam continued to tease my hair.

"Oh my." Melanie's voice drifted in from the doorway.

I couldn't pull my gaze away from the mirror. Pam stepped away, as her daughter came up behind me. Melanie took her mother's place, and began to tease my hair. I couldn't speak. Mindlessly I sat there, staring at two girls in the mirror. As Melanie continued to move her fingers in and out of my hair, I felt like her puppet. She used this to her advantage.

"So I talked to your mom," Melanie said.

"Oh?"

"She thinks it's an excellent idea for you to work with Kate and I."

"Work with you?" Pam asked.

"Bailey wants to learn how to be more girly," Melanie said. "I was thinking Kate and I could help her."

"Oh I see…" Pam walked over with a broom and started to sweep up my discarded hair. "You sure you want to do that?" She asked, looking at me in the mirror.

"I think it would be fun," I said.

"Fun for them," Pam said. "I think you'd be surprised at how strict Melanie can be." She swept up some of my hair. "And Kate can be deathly serious when she has to be."

"Your mother seemed pretty serious about it too," Melanie said. "She even offered to pay us."

"I hope you turned her down young lady," Pam said.

"Oh I did," Melanie said. "But I'm going to treat it as if she did pay us." She looked down at me in the mirror. "It's not going to be all fun and games. There's going to be some serious learning." She waited until her mom turned away before giving me a mischievous wink.

"Did you agree upon a schedule?" Pam asked.

"I called and talked to Kate. We decided Tuesday and Thursday afternoons once school starts," Melanie said. "Those seemed like the best days for everyone."

"When school starts?" I asked.

Melanie patted my head. "She can come over to Kate's after school, and her mom can get her after." She totally ignored my question. "It'll give us about an hour to set up."

"Well it sounds like you're serious about it," Pam said. "As long as it doesn't interfere with school and you treat it like a job…"

"We definitely will," Melanie said.

"Are you okay with all of this Bailey?" Pam asked.

"Of course she is!" Melanie leaned over me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a friendly hug. "She already agreed to it."

"Well I have some old cosmetology books at home that might help," Pam said. "I guess you could find some books on deportment at the library, or stuff on the web."

"Thanks mom!" Melanie said. "You're the best."

"Why don't you take Bailey back to her room now?" Pam asked.

"Oh…" Melanie retracted her body from me. "You have a new outfit waiting for you." She unfastened the cape from around my neck, and carefully removed it. "Your mom had me put it in your room."

I followed Melanie back to the changing room. The silence felt a bit melodramatic, but I didn't feel like sharing my sentiments about my predicament with the people we passed. Surprisingly a young man in his twenties sat out in the relaxation room. This little bit of information put my mind at ease about being the only male in the building. Though at the moment I didn't feel very male. I definitely didn't look the part.

"Here we are," Melanie said, her voice snapping me back into reality.

My hand fumbled for the key in my pocket. I pulled it out, my hands shaking as they moved to the door handle. Why I felt nervous at the moment, I had no idea. The feelings inside of me were beginning to well up, and maybe I was scared I'd reach the point of bursting when I saw my outfit. Perhaps I had some doubts about this entire day.

The door swept into the room, brushing against the plush carpet inside. Melanie let me enter first, but again stepped by me into the room. I put the key on the counter near the door, and watched Melanie. I knew we'd probably be getting a lot closer in the future. At that moment in time, however, I really wanted to be left alone. I wasn't used to this much attention, and I felt uncomfortable with the sisterly way she already acted around me.

"I put the dress over here," Melanie said. "It is absolutely darling." She pulled a dress from the small closet and held it up in front of her. "What do you think?"

I stepped over to examine the dress. The pearl-colored satin material slid through my hand. It felt a bit heavier than Tiffany's sleepwear, but just as slick. With a bright and varied pansy print over the pearl, the dress could go with about anything. The sweetheart neckline swept down from inch wide straps, and gathered at the front with a row of pearl color buttons. Completing the feminine appeal of the dress, the full, gathered skirt had a slight layer of lace peeking out at the bottom.

"Do you need any assistance?" Melanie asked quietly.

Already uncomfortable with the situation, I looked at her shaking my head. "I think I can manage."

"Okay," Melanie said, handing me the hanger. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

"Thank you," I said, taking the dress in my hands.

Melanie stepped past me, turning at the door. "The shoes are on the ottoman," she said, as she pulled the door shut.

Shoes. That one word could catch my attention in a crowded room of screaming people. I'd grown to have a fond appreciation for shoes over the past two weeks. The various styles had always amused me, but when I stepped into the women's side of shoes, it opened up a whole new world to me. I couldn't explain it. I just liked shoes.

I hung the dress on the back of the door, and stepped over to the ottoman. As I slipped onto the cushiony seat, I pulled the shoebox over to me. I carefully removed the lid, as if the shoes were a precious hidden jewel unearthed during an archeological dig. After removing a few pieces of tissue, I finally unveiled them.

Inside the shoebox sat a pair of sandals. They were thin-soled with tan on the bottom and a silver cushioned lining on top. Three thin white straps crisscrossed over, forming the shoe's upper. Another thin white strap went over the heel and wrapped around the ankle, closing with a small silver buckle. The small one and a half inch kitten heel added just the right amount of maturity and femininity to complete the look.

The shoes were absolutely adorable, and like always I couldn't wait to put them on. I kicked my slippers off, as I removed the left sandal from the box. After a bit of fidgeting with the ankle strap, I managed to get it open. I placed the sandal on the floor, and slipped my foot into it. With a bit more fidgeting I managed to get it buckled onto my foot. Then I repeated the process for the right sandal, before I sat back and kicked my feet out to look at them.

They fit perfectly, and looked amazing. My feet looked entirely feminine in them with my shocking pink nails, and the softness given to them from the pedicure. I started to wonder what Nathan would think of my feet now. He seemed to be into them the other day. Then I started to wonder why I instantly thought of Nathan. What about Tiffany? She would go crazy if she saw them.

"Everything going okay in there?" Melanie asked from behind the door.

"Yes," I said. "I'll just be a moment longer."

I knew she was probably dying to see me in the dress. I could picture her bouncing like a little kid who had to pee. It seemed cruel to keep her waiting, so I pulled myself away from staring at my new sandals, and stood up in them. After tugging the belt loose from my robe, I let it slide from my body onto the ottoman. I found my bra, hanging in the closet, was the only thing remaining of the clothes I arrived in. I slipped it on and walked over to the dress.

All things considered, the dress looked absolutely beautiful. It looked like my mother spent a fortune, not just on the outfit, but the entire day. I noticed shades of pinks in the pansies, so I knew my nails would go with it. Thinking of my nails caused me to look at my hands. Their smoothness and the way the nails were shaped screamed girl before the pink polish became a factor.

This only made me think about the conversation with the nail technician Tonya. She claimed guys would be wanting me to touch them with these hands. The first guy that jumped into my mind happened to be Nathan again. I knew from Tuesday he couldn't wait to touch me. Touching him scared me away from the thought. Obviously there were some issues I needed to discuss with him.

I reached up and pulled the dress from the hanger. While I examined and felt the material, I found a slim little zipper on the right side of the dress. I pulled it down. It opened it up enough to be slipped on over my head and shoulders. As the dress came down over my body, it felt so light and dainty. I suddenly got a giddy feeling all over, the feeling I now got every time I tried on some new feminine attire.

In one motion, I pulled the zipper up and opened the door. Melanie burst in, closing the door behind her. She appeared to be beside herself as she fawned over the dress. I stumbled over in front of the vanity, as she pulled me over and stood behind me. She tugged at the straps of the dress until they were tight. Then to my surprise she reached around me and started squeezing and adjusting my bra beneath the dress.

"Oh relax," she said. "It's not like they're real." She looked at me in the mirror and raised her left eyebrow. "Though it's a good thing you act like they are." Her hands continued to grope my chest. "It's instinctively girly." Finally she removed her hands and pulled out the stool from under the vanity. "Have a seat, and we'll do your makeup."

"Makeup?" I asked, sitting down on the stool.

"No no!" she said. "Not like that!" She reached over and locked the door to the room.

"What?"

"Like this."

Her hand wrapped around my arm, quite firmly, as she yanked me up from the stool. She pulled me back from the stool and turned me to face her. After making sure she had my attention, she reached back with her left hand and smoothed the back of her skirt. Then she eased herself down onto the stool. The move appeared quite graceful. She waited a moment before standing back up and stepping away.

"Try to keep your knees together," she said. "Be fluid, and just ease yourself into it." She stood to face me. "Think graceful."

I stepped over to the stool and turned to face Melanie. She appeared to be the most serious she had been all day. I reached my left hand behind me, and cautiously smoothed the skirt of my dress. As I lowered my bottom to the chair, Melanie motioned to be less rigid at my knees. I followed her advice, and found myself moving quite gracefully onto the seat.

"That was pretty good," Melanie said. "Do it again." She took my wrists and pulled me gently from the stool. "This time relax, and try to make it more natural."

I tried it again, following her advice.

"Don't think about it," she said, pulling me up again. "It should be something you just do by instinct." She smiled pleasantly. "Like being offended by someone touching your breasts."

After several more attempts, Melanie finally thought I got it. At least I was close enough to not look absurd doing it. She stood me up again, and walked me over to the closet on the other side of the room. Then she stepped over to the side. I looked at her, wondering what was next. It didn't take long for me to find out.

"Now, without even thinking about it," she said. "I want you to walk over to the stool and sit like I showed you."

I started to stroll over to the stool, but before I got past the ottoman Melanie stopped me. She rushed over between me and the vanity.

"Oh dear…" She pulled me over to the mirror. "You need to work on your walk." She looked around me into the mirror. "Didn't Kate or Tiffany show you how to walk?" Her brow furrowed. "Or stand, for that matter?"

"No," I said. "It's all been for fun." I felt like I had to defend myself for some reason.

"Well if you want to dress for fun, that's fine," she said. "But since you've been going out in public, you should work on at least the basics."

"The basics?"

"Yes," she said. "Like your posture. You will find it a lot easier to walk like a girl if you work on your posture. First…" She reached around to my chest again. "Keep your chest up and your shoulders back." She started to adjust my posture. "Keep your chin up, and use your abs to support your back and upper body."

I let a bit of sarcasm overtake me. "You're really serious about this girl schooling aren't you?"

Melanie dropped her hands from me. "Do you want to learn, or not?"

I detected a bit of disappointment in her voice. "I do," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Chin up," she said, slapping at it gently with the back of her hand. "Eyes forward." She moved her hands down to my waist. "Now this is more important for higher heels, but since you're wearing heels you might as well get used to it." She gently moved my hips back, and up. "You want to adjust your pelvic tilt when you're wearing heels, to change your center of gravity."

"How do you know all of this?" I asked.

"Let's just say my mother taught me right," she said. "I'm also really interested in fashion. I want to be a model some day."

"Well you certainly have the look for it," I said.

I could tell she was blushing now. "Thanks." She saw me looking at her in the mirror. "Eyes forward!" She turned me around to face the closet. "Now I want you to walk over to the closet, keeping your knees loose and stepping heel to toe." She backed over to the doorway of the bathroom. "Try to keep your posture."

I did as she asked, stepping lightly over to the closet.

"Relax more," she said. "Keep your posture, but relax and be fluid. Stroll back to the door."

Again, I strolled across the room, trying to relax as much as possible.

"Again. Take smaller steps," she said. "Pretend you're walking on a line, and keep the inside of your foot on that line with each step." She waited until I reached the closet. "Let your bottom roll with each step, it'll make your hips have that sway in them guys drool over."

"But I'm not into guys," I said, as I strolled over to the door.

"I don't care," Melanie said. "You're going to walk like you are. Now again. Maintain your posture and this time relax your arms at the elbows."

I continued to walk back and forth across the room. Melanie gave me advice with each turn. She even showed me how to turn. By the time I reached the closet the last time, I felt like I'd been working on walking for an hour. Melanie checked her watch, apparently thinking the same thing, then walked crisply over to the vanity.

"You'll have to work on it in your spare time," she said. "I don't think you can perfect your walk in ten minutes." She stood next to the vanity facing me. "Now, walk over here and sit like I showed you."

Without giving it much thought, I waltzed over to the stool. Casually I stepped in front of the stool, reached back to smooth the skirt of my dress, and eased down onto the stool. Melanie clapped quietly a few times. She came over behind me and smiled at me in the mirror. Then she put her hands lightly on my bare shoulders.

"Not bad," she said. "Not bad at all." She walked over to get a small gift bag from the counter. "Now in your spare time I want you to work on your walk and sitting the rest of the summer. Wear a skirt with heels when you do." She came back over to the vanity. "Remember when you sit, even though you don't like boys, boys love to sneak a peak up a girl's skirt." She pulled a compact of light pink blush out of the bag and opened it. "So keep your thighs together as you sit, and when you change positions."

Melanie turned the stool around to face her. She lowered herself down as she stooped over me with the blush. In a matter of seconds she had applied a light amount of blush to my cheeks. She closed the compact and put it back in the bag. Then she pulled out a tube of carnation pink lipstick. I watched her pop the cap off and spin the lipstick up out of the tube.

"Speaking of that," Melanie said. "Take this knee." She tapped my right knee. "And cross it over the other." She started to apply the lipstick to my lips. "Remember to keep your thighs together."

I followed her instructions perfectly, and she seemed very pleased.

"Now switch them." Melanie paused with the lipstick application to watch me. "Good!" She pulled a tissue from a box on the vanity and had me blot. "Switch a few more times to get used to it." She stood back to watch me. "You do pretty well with that." She came back with the lipstick. "I want you to work on your posture at home. Even guys should sit up straight."

"Okay," I said. "This is a lot to remember."

"You'll get used to it in no time," she said. "Just remember to sit and stand up straight, but be fluid and graceful in your movements." She held my chin firmly and lifted it so I faced her. "I want you to take this seriously and practice the rest of the summer. That way we won't have to waste much time teaching it when school starts." She raised her eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Got it," I said, a bit scared to say no to her.

"Good!" Melanie said, as she reached into the bag once more and brought out a small bottle of ck one. "Your new scent."

She winked at me. Then she dabbed the citrusy fragrance on my wrists, the backs of my knees, and behind my ears. The smell filled the immediate area, but wasn't overbearing. She dropped the lipstick and ck one into the gift bag, and handed it to me. Then she slipped a cute braided pink bracelet onto my left wrist, and stood up in front of me. A pleasant smile spread across her face.

"You're so cute," she said. "Your mom is going to flip."

"I was kind of getting scared she left me here," I said with a chuckle.

"No," Melanie said. "She got a massage a little while ago, and has been waiting out in the reception area for you." She checked her watch again. "Which reminds me… You better get going. Don't want to be late."

"Late?" I asked, rising from the stool.

"She got tickets to a local play," Melanie said. "I think you'll like it."

"So I'm all dressed up and actually have a place to go?"

"Exactly," Melanie said. "I'll be seeing you around Bailey."

"Thanks for everything," I said.

"Work on what I showed you."

"I will."

With that said, Melanie opened the door and let me slip out of the room. A small walk later, I stood in front of the door to the reception area. My knees trembled a bit as my hand wrapped around the handle. I was scared to let my mother see me like this. What if she liked it so much she wanted to keep me as a girl? I knew deep down it was my decision, but something told me I had already made the decision.

I kept in mind the fact that I had chosen my own hairstyle. Her choice was a bit more conservative, and could've been fixed easily. My current hairstyle would either have to grow out, or be cut pretty short to start school. The door handle turned in my hand. I took a deep breath, and pulled the door open.

My mother, pretending to be engrossed in a magazine, slapped it down on the table when I stepped through the door. She recognized me, but had to do a double take. With the combined speed and agility of a cat, my mother bolted toward me. As she gushed over my new appearance, Linda, the receptionist, sat smiling at me with her forearms resting against the desk.

"Well it looks like you're pleased with the results Misses Walker," Linda said.

"Very much so," my mother said. "Though I didn't expect Pam to go so feminine with the hairstyle."

"That…" I glanced at Linda and then back at my mother. "I asked her to do this."

"Oh," my mother said. "I see." She played with my hair a little. "Well it looks darling."

"It sure does," Linda said. "Did you enjoy your visit here Bailey?"

"I really did," I said, looking at Linda.

"Well you're welcome to come back anytime," Linda said. "The other ladies really enjoyed having you."

"Thank you," I said. "And tell them all thank you for me."

"I'll do that," Linda said.

"Well I'd love to stay and chat," my mother said, "but we have a matinee to get to down the street."

"You ladies have a good day," Linda said. "Enjoy your play, and thanks for choosing Oasis Day Spa."

"Take care," my mother said.

"Goodbye," I said.

The warm summer sun greeted us as we exited the spa. Already past its peak in the sky, I could tell the time was somewhere in the early afternoon. My mother reached toward me with a pair of sunglasses in her hand. I took them and examined them briefly. They looked like cheap drugstore sunglasses, with white plastic frames. I knew they were solely bought to go with my outfit. My mother smiled at me while I slipped them on.

"They really did an amazing job," she said. "If I didn't know what I was looking for, I wouldn't have recognized you."

"I really look that different?"

"Honey…" She put her hand on my shoulder. "You could honestly go to school like that, and people would think you were the new girl in town."

"I've actually been thinking about that," I said.

"Well tell me about it while we walk."

We set off down the sidewalk of Broadway. I held my chin up, and remembered to keep my posture as we walked. Even with the short lesson from Melanie, I felt I could walk down the street confidently in my low heels. My mother's business casual apparel made it so I didn't stand out like a sore thumb. However, my youthfulness, and the appeal of my outfit caused plenty of young men to take a look at me. I couldn't help but get absorbed in the attention, and soon found myself smiling at some of them.

"Bailey?" My mother snapped me back into the conversation. "What did you want to say about school?"

"Oh…" I glanced around, making sure nobody was within earshot. "I was wondering if maybe I could go to school as Bailey?"

"Honey you will be Bailey when school starts," she said. "Remember we changed your name?"

"I mean…" I stopped to lower my voice. "As a girl?"

My mother shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"It will take a lot more than an outfit and a name change," she said. When I didn't respond she continued. "There's just too much involved in that sort of…" She took a breath. "I like that you're exploring this Bailey, but I'd like you to stay my son."

That certainly confused the hell out of me. This whole time I thought she was the one pushing for me to become her daughter. Now it felt like she was playing games with me. It was like giving a kid a taste of cake and then pulling it away from them. She wanted me to experience being a girl, but didn't want me to be one. What did she want?

"What do you want?" I said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "Do you just want another toy to dress up like you used to do with your brother? What is it? Really?"

"What?" My mother looked shocked. "No! That's not it at all." She glanced around. "I don't think this is the proper place to discuss it either."

"I need to know," I said, lowering my voice.

"I just wanted you to have a day," she said. "Something fun."

"And realize I like it, then have it taken away?"

"I'm not taking anything away," she said. "We can do this again."

"Just not every day?"

"Look, I'll make you a deal." She put her hands on my shoulders. "After high school you can do anything you want." Her eyebrows raised above the frames of her sunglasses. "Does that sound fair?"

"Can I still dress until then?"

"You can express yourself within reasonable limits," my mother said. "However, you're entering a stage in your life where many of your peers are going to be increasingly less accepting of certain things." She took her hands from my shoulders and straightened up. "Just fair warning. I want to see you happy, but I don't want to see you get hurt. That's why I suggested it be an after school activity."

"I understand…"

"Well don't look so disappointed," my mother said. "We still have the summers and weekends."

She smiled at me, and I had to smile back. I guess it was a small victory. At least now I knew my mother's motives for sure. For now, she only wanted a part-time daughter. I could live with that for the moment. My brother's motives were easy. He was too young to care. Now I just had to figure out Tom's motives.

As we turned to move up the street again, I fell naturally back into my walk. My heels now clacked almost in rhythm with my mother's heels. The skirt of my dress felt so sensual with the lace trim swishing against my thighs. I could feel my hips sway with each small step. The sun felt amazing and warm on my bare skin, while boys' stares gave me all the confidence in the world. I could enjoy the day again.

We continued to walk up Broadway to an old community theater. It had been there for decades, but I'd never been to a play there. The play we took in happened to be Barefoot in the Park. Though the name didn't live up to my expectations of what it was about, I enjoyed it nonetheless. The actors and actresses were amazing, and made me appreciate the theater at a young age. Most importantly, it gave my mom and I something to talk about on the way home, other than the usual banter about my issues.

It so happened, I couldn't wait to tell Tiffany about my day. I found myself on the phone not even ten minutes after my mother and I got home. We ended up gushing over the events like two tweenage girls. She seemed more excited about my new hairstyle than anything, and couldn't wait to see it. As I continued to talk to her, I could hear my mom talking with Tom. So I crept closer to the door to see if I could hear what they were talking about.

"He actually said he wanted to go to school as a girl?" Tom asked.

"Yes," mom said. "I felt so bad saying no to him, but I don't think he could handle it."

"I say let him dress as a little girl for school," Tom said. "An ass-kicking or two from his classmates will help him decide if he wants to go on with it."

"You know that's not funny Tom," my mother said.

"It's not meant to be," Tom said. "He needs to realize there's a world out there ready to kick the ass of anyone who's different."

"Is he that different in the scheme of things?" my mother asked.

"Maybe one day you'll both wake up and realize it, but until then…" Tom paused for a moment before continuing. "I say we wait to see. Girl… or boy… We'll just have to see."

"Is that okay?" Tiffany's voice blared through the phone.

"What?" I asked.

"Can you sleep over at her house?" Tiffany asked.

"Uh…" I stepped back into my room. "No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Tom doesn't want me spending the night," I said. "For obvious reasons. Guy. Girl."

"Oh…" Tiffany sounded disappointed on the other end. "I guess that's understandable. But you can still come right?"

"Yes," I said. "I'll just have to leave early."

"Great!" Tiffany said. "It's nothing formal, but I would love to see you in a dress."

"I could do that," I said.

"And heels!" Tiffany said, as if it were an afterthought. "Sandals would be so cute."

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

"I love you Bailey," she said, my name change obviously not a big burden in her mind. "Can't wait to see you at Tracy's party."

"I love you too," I said. "See you there."

"Bye bye," she said, hanging up the phone.

I walked over and hung the phone up. My mind was still on the conversation Tom and my mother were having. However, when I got off the phone I couldn't hear a sound from either of them. After a minute or two, I heard the front door close. I hurried to my window to see my mother getting in her car. As I watched her pull out of the driveway, Tom came and stood at my door.

"I have to admit," Tom said, waiting for me to spin around and face him. "You really pull it off."

"Where did mom go?" I asked.

"She went to get your brother," Tom said, walking over to my bed to sit down. "Come here. Let me look at you."

I stepped over to the middle of my room. Tom's eyes went up and down my body. With a little encouragement from him, I spun on my toes so he could see the whole outfit. As I turned to face him again, my dress swished back and forth over my thighs. His eyebrow raised as he looked over me once more.

"You know your mother used to model like that," Tom said. "It's been awhile, but…" He shook the thought from his head, and replaced it with a subtle smile. "You look… pretty."

"Thank you," I said.

The smile dropped from his face. "Why did you lie to me?" Tom asked.

"When?"

"At the table the other day, you said you didn't want to be a girl," Tom said. "Today you told your mother you wanted to go to school as a girl."

"I didn't lie," I said.

"That sounds like you want this fulltime," Tom said. "You lied to me."

He coaxed me toward him with his finger. I reluctantly stepped forward. Tom reached out and took hold of my arm, yanking me down toward him. As I fell across his lap, he put his left arm over my back to hold me down. Then he lifted the skirt of my dress up to my waist, exposing my white panties. I started to squirm when he rested the palm of his right hand on my bottom.

"I don't like being lied to," Tom said. He raised his right hand and brought it down with a firm smack on my bottom. "For this to work, we need to trust each other." He raised his hand again, only to bring it down firmly on my bottom once more. "Did you lie to me?"

"Yes…" I said, reluctantly.

Tom landed another few swats on my bottom. "Do you want to be a girl?"

"No," I said.

Tom swatted me several times. "Do you want to be a girl?"

"Yes," I choked out. Tears began to form in my eyes.

"Then don't ever lie to me about it."

He continued to swat me until I squirmed beneath his left arm. When I started to kick my feet, he ceased with the spanking. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but I didn't sob. Tom pulled me back up and helped me stand. He even helped me fix the skirt of my dress. I never felt so humiliated.

"That's how little girls get spanked," Tom said. "Don't ever lie to me again, or you'll be seeing a lot more of it."

I nodded. He stood up, and kissed me lightly on the forehead. Then he wiped the tears from my cheeks, before leaving my room. Now I would remember that day for another reason. I'd never been spanked like that before. They were usually the "bend over" type. That was my first of many over-the-knee spankings.

From that moment on, whenever I got into trouble with Tom, I received a sound spanking. I think he even went out of his way to make them memorable. It seemed like he set aside time to do them, to make them sink in. No matter what I was wearing, it was either pulled up or down to reveal my panties. This was a final act of humiliation he used to make sure I never forgot.

I did forget. I'd eventually slip up time and time again. By the end of the summer, my mother eventually took up the act in Tom's absence. Sometimes she even employed a hairbrush if it happened to be on hand. Eventually the hairbrush became a staple, as it took fewer swats with it to get the point across. Justin, on the other hand, still got the classic spanking with the belt. Though I knew the belt was painful, it never instilled the humiliation I felt being over someone's knees in my panties.

There were other forms of correction as well. For instance, in the week leading up to Tracy's party, my mother took note of all my actions. If I acted out of the perceived norm of a girl, while I was a girl, she would have me work on it before bed. She claimed it would help me to fit in better if it started to become second nature. I couldn't disagree on that fact with her, however, I saw myself being more feminine than even the girls I knew. At least the girls my age were still somewhat boyish at that age.

Yet my mother had me work on it all anyway. I chose to spend the week as a girl, to stay in character so to speak. My mother, on the other hand, chose my outfits for the week. All week I wore skirts and heels, to help get me ready for Friday. Not only did I get the practice of walking in heels all day, but my mother also had me walk in them for her before bed. If I sat the wrong way in a skirt, she would have me practice sitting in a skirt before bed. This particularly came in handy when I arrived at Tracy's party in a dress.

I navigated Tracy's front stairs like I had been walking all summer long on the two inch tapered heels of my black, strappy, sling back sandals. After waving my mother off, I turned back to the door and pushed my pink-tipped index finger against the doorbell. I stood up straight, and held Tracy's present out in front of me. Inside I could hear the voices of several girls. The door swung open.

"Hello," Mrs. Young said, as she opened the storm door. "Bailey, right?"

"Yes," I said. "Hi Misses Young."

"Well come on in," she said. "And I keep telling you girls to call me Betty."

"I'm sorry," I said, walking past her into the house. "I'm just not used to --"

"Bailey!" Tiffany's voice could have woken the dead. "I told you she'd make it!"

Betty quickly took Tracy's present from me, before Tiffany crashed into me. She threw her arms around me, nearly knocking me over back through the door. Her nose brushed my ear. I could hear her inhale softly. She seemed to linger there for a moment.

"What is that?" Tiffany asked with a whisper.

"Ck one," I whispered back.

"I love it," she said in a breathy voice.

When she broke the embrace, her arms slid down my arms to take my hands. She rocked our hands in and out, and gave me a smile. Her hazel eyes moved up and down my body. They stopped at my hair.

"I absolutely love what you did with your hair," she said. "It's so daring!"

"Yeah," Tracy said, coming to greet me. "Tiffany said you changed it, but wow…" She started playing with the wavy layers, along with Tiffany. "You didn't have to get all dressed up though."

"I think her dress is cute," Tiffany said. "Love the corset look." Her hand ran over the smooth, black, cotton and spandex front of my dress, before dropping to play with the gray and black plaid bottom. "And the tiered skirt… really cute."

"I hope it's not to uncomfortable," Tracy said. "We're gonna be kinda lounging around and watching movies."

"Thankfully it's not a real corset," I said with a smile.

Tracy smiled at me, letting her eyes roam down my legs. "I like the shoes," Tracy said. "I don't know how some of you do it, but I'd kill myself walking in heels."

"You've never worn heels?" I asked.

"Never have," Tracy said. "Never will." She walked away to join her mother.

"But you're going to wear yours the rest of the night," Tiffany said to me. "Right?"

"If that's what you want," I said.

She hugged me again. "I can't believe you went so…" Tiffany lowered her voice. "So girl on me."

"You don't like it?" I asked.

She broke the hug. "Are you kidding?" Tiffany said, nearly whispering. "I love it! What about your stepfather though?"

"He gave up on me I think," I said. "He just started treating me like a girl, and told me I could do whatever."

"And you believe him?" Tiffany asked.

"Am I not supposed to?"

Tiffany shrugged. "It just seems kind of weird to me that he changed his mind so fast."

"I guess he had to come to grips with it?"

"That wasn't too expensive was it?" Tiffany said, playing with the straps of my dress.

"Not really," I said. "Why?"

"We're having ice cream," she said. "Don't want it to get ruined."

"Oh it's fine." I lowered my voice a bit. "I'm just so happy to see you again."

Tiffany smiled. She put her arm in mine, and walked me into the living room. There were four other girls in the living room. I knew two of them vaguely from school, but the other two must have been Tracy's friends from another school. In the middle of all four of the girls, was Tracy's younger brother, Kale, desperately trying to get attention from each one of them.

"Everyone," Tiffany said. "This is Bailey."

I raised my hand to wave. "Hi girls."

Kale froze in his tracks and stared at me. "You're pretty," he said.

"Kale!" Tracy stormed into the room. "I told you, you could stay in here if you didn't bug us."

"Oh, he's not bugging us," Tiffany said. She walked over and stooped down in front of Kale. "You really think she's pretty?"

Kale nodded, unable to look away from me.

"I do too," Tiffany said.

Kale turned to face her. "But you're a girl."

"Well girls can think other girls are pretty," Tiffany said, looking at me with a smile. "Why don't you introduce pretty Bailey to everyone here?"

Kale's head continued to bob up and down. He calmly walked over to me and held his hand out. I offered my hand, and he took it and led me into the midst of the other girls. Before he introduced me to anyone, I turned to see Tiffany walking out of the room with Tracy. She turned to smile at me before disappearing into the hallway.

"This is Megan," Kale said. "Though she likes to be called Meg."

"Hi Bailey," Megan said.

Megan I had never seen before, but she was a cute girl of Asian descent. She had a short, black pixie cut on top of her oval face, with warm light brown almond-shaped eyes. Somewhere she had discarded her shoes, and I could tell she had on nude hose. Her frame was about the same as mine and Tiffany's, and her pale pink dress fit her perfectly from the thin spaghetti straps to the hem at her knees. I also noticed she was the only other girl who wore a dress tonight.

"Nice to meet you Meg," I said, shaking her delicate hand gently.

"Tawny," Kale said.

I took Tawny's hand. Her old dark blue polish was chipped and missing in spots. This reminded me of Tonya's statement about how you could tell a lady by the way she took care of her hands. Though there seemed to be a lady hidden somewhere underneath that straight, black bob cut, Tawny didn't present it much at all. She happened to be the most boyish of the group, hiding her thin frame with a black Korn t-shirt, and baggy jeans. Yet underneath it all, I could tell she was just as pretty and feminine as the rest of the girls there.

"What's up?" Tawny said, giving my hand a firm shake.

"Danielle," Kale said.

"Danielle," I said, with a smile.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Danielle asked.

To be honest, I knew Danielle. I didn't know her well, but we had the same fourth grade teacher. Her too-thin-to-stand-in-the-wind frame was unmistakable, especially with the long ponytail of straight blonde hair, which came to the middle of her back. I don't think she ever had a haircut since kindergarten. We used to call her Rapunzel. My head shook from side to side, as I looked into her large pale green eyes, which always seemed to be smiling.

"You look so familiar," Danielle said.

"He does!" the fourth girl said from beside me. "I'm Vanessa." She held her hand out.

"Excuse me!" Kale said. "I was doing the introductions."

"Kale!" Tracy said from behind me. "Go help mom in the kitchen."

Vanessa happened to be the other girl I knew, though less than I wanted to personally. Her orange crop top and short jean shorts covered very little of her flawless caramel colored skin. She started budding early and was on her way to becoming a young Tyra Banks. Vanessa even had the poise and structure to be a model, and ended up pursuing that career after high school. Without any competition, she had to be the most beautiful girl in the room.

"I swear I know you from somewhere," Vanessa said, still holding onto my hand.

Her coffee-colored eyes stared deeply into mine. I watched her face contort into one filled with mystery and then like it was trying to figure out the meaning of life. The awkwardness of the situation filled me momentarily with regret at having come to the party. In all honesty, I never wanted to in the first place. Tom, along with my mother, persuaded me into coming, thinking it would be a good idea.

"I don't think we've met," I said.

"No," Vanessa said. "You actually look like a boy I knew in school." She shook her head. "But your hands are too smooth and soft to be a boy."

"Because I'm not?" I could hear the other girls start to snicker.

Suddenly it appeared a light bulb went off somewhere in Vanessa's head. "Zach?" She asked quietly. "Zachary Walker?!"

"I…" My lips quivered.

I was found out! How in the world did she know? My mother didn't even recognize me the first time I dressed. She even claimed she wouldn't have recognized me Saturday, had she not known before hand. Yet somehow Vanessa knew. A girl I hadn't seen for over a year knew I was a boy. How?

"Relax!" Tiffany burst out laughing from behind me. "She knew before you got here."

"Your lips even shook like a little girl," Tawny said, from the couch.

Vanessa laughed out. "I so had you going!"

"That wasn't funny," I said, dropping her hand. "Why did you tell them?" I asked, turning to Tiffany.

"I had to," Tiffany said.

"It was my fault really," Tracy said. "I had to know why two girls disappeared into my pool shower for half an hour."

"Ooh," Danielle said, now standing to get more involved in the conversation. "I have to hear about this!"

"It was nothing," Tiffany said. "Really!"

"Besides," I said. "A girl doesn't kiss and tell."

"So you were kissing?" Danielle asked, running her finger down my bare arm.

"Bailey!" Tiffany said, her face showing concern and shock at the same time.

"I probably should stop there," I said. Then I turned to face Tracy. "Who all knows?"

"Just us here," Tracy said. "My mom knows too, but my dad and Kale don't know."

"What about Rebecca?" I asked.

"Not unless Kate told her," Tiffany said. "Though they do talk about everything."

Tawny and Megan remained on the couch. Their heads bobbed back and forth, taking in the whole conversation. Eventually Tawny focused more on me, stealing glances while she thought I wasn't looking. Megan slowly withdrew her attention from the conversation. Her actions told me she happened to be on the shy side. I could tell she was one of those who liked to be around people, but just kind of blended in with everyone.

"Girls!" Betty said from the kitchen. "Come get some ice cream!"

"I wish you would've told me," I said to Tiffany.

"You're not mad are you?" Tiffany asked.

"A little," I said. "The whole point of me doing this is for people not to know." I shook my head. "You're going around telling everyone."

"You're right," Tiffany said. "I'm sorry. I keep letting it slip."

"Well eventually you're going to let it slip to the wrong person," I said.

"For what it's worth," Tawny said, standing up from the couch. "Everyone here is cool with it. Even Tracy's mom." She helped Megan stand up. "You actually make a cute girl."

"You really do," Megan said quietly.

"Thanks," I said, watching them slip into the kitchen. I turned my attention back to Tiffany. "Promise me you won't do this again without telling me first?"

"I promise," Tiffany said. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," I said, embracing her in a sincere hug.

"Why don't you two kiss and make up?" Danielle asked.

I turned to see Danielle watch us intently with a sly grin upon her face. Pretty soon Tracy grabbed her and pulled her off to the kitchen. This left Tiffany and I alone with Vanessa in the living room. I broke our embrace, and let Tiffany go on ahead of me into the kitchen. Vanessa waited a moment until she crossed into the other room. Then I felt her hand reach out and grab my upper arm gently. She leaned in closer to me.

"I always though you were cute," Vanessa said. "Now I think you're even cuter."

A moment of boldness took me over. "I always thought you were pretty," I said. "One of the prettiest girls in school actually."

"You're so sweet," Vanessa said. "I think you would've given me a run for my money though."

"Girls?" Betty said from the doorway. "You coming?"

"Of course," Vanessa said, putting her arm in mine to walk me to the kitchen.

If you have never seen twelve and thirteen year old girls dig into ice cream, I could never paint a picture of the sheer chaos which transpired that night. The ice cream ranged from plain vanilla to fudge brownie. There were cans of whipped topping, assorted toppings from chocolate chips to sprinkles. You had to be bold to stick your arm in there for something. Mrs. Young had a hard time trying to clean up after us, and just gave up until the end.

I settled on a bowl of plain vanilla. Where I indulged was the toppings. Before long I had adorned my ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, tiny little chips of chocolate and that topping that turns hard when it sets. I had just stepped over to put some whipped topping over my masterpiece, when Vanessa walked up beside me. Tiffany strolled over to my other side, making me feel a bit nervous. Had they talked?

"You are so lucky," Vanessa said to Tiffany, under the loud talk of the other girls. "Bailey is the cutest thing."

"Well she's mine," Tiffany said. "So keep your little paws off."

"Relax!" Vanessa said, pulling herself back slightly. "You know I'm not interested in girls." She leaned in closer again. "Besides, you two make too cute a couple to break up."

"Thank you Vanessa," I said. I tried to hide my noticeable blush, and maintain some dignity by trying to get the conversation to stop. "I'm happy with Tiffany."

"I just can't believe you made her wear heels," Vanessa said.

"I don't make her wear them," Tiffany said. "She makes her own decisions. I just asked her nicely."

"Well you should ask her to more often," Vanessa said. "She looks killer in them." She put her hand on my arm and leaned even closer toward Tiffany. "Imagine if she wore them to school."

"That'll never happen," I said with my mouth full of ice cream.

"Honey," Tiffany said, putting her hand on my upper arm. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Just picture it," Vanessa said. "If she wore them every day to school, by the time she graduated she'd be so used to wearing them…" Vanessa looked at me and smiled. "She'd want to wear them all the time."

Tiffany looked at me. The conversation obviously got her thinking about it. I could tell by the half-dazed expression on her face. It was the look she got before we did our little role playing games. After a moment she shook her head. She turned her face back to look at Vanessa.

"Bailey's right," Tiffany said. "That'll never happen." She lowered her voice. "She has to go back to school as a boy. It would just be too complicated the other way."

"That's too bad," Tawny said, walking over to meet us. "I would've liked to see you go to school in something like that." Her eyes roamed my body.

"You want to see everyone in a dress, but yourself," Megan said, walking up behind Tawny.

"That's because only girly girls wear dresses," Tawny said, making Megan roll her eyes.

"What are we talking about?" Danielle said. She looked like a Barbie doll walking over toward us.

"We were talking about how cute it would be," Vanessa said, turning to Danielle. "If Bailey went to school as a girl."

"Aw," Danielle said. "You mean you don't want to?"

"It's not that I don't want to…" I looked past the girls surrounding me to prospect the rest of the room. "It just wouldn't be a good idea."

"You're probably right," Megan said. "It would be pretty hard to deal with."

"I can only imagine," Tawny said.

"My mother said I could do whatever when I graduate," I said.

"Well that's cool at least," Vanessa said.

"Really?" Tiffany asked. "You didn't tell me that."

"I'd say that makes you two even," Danielle said.

"What about after school?" Vanessa asked.

"I can dress after school and on weekends," I said.

"Cool!" Vanessa said. "Maybe you can hang with us as a girl every once in a while."

"Maybe," I said.

"That would be fun," Megan said, desperately trying to get a shy word into the conversation.

"We're going to start the movie soon," Tracy said from the kitchen doorway.

I stood beside Tiffany. We watched in silence as the other girls shuffled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Young, or Betty I should say, frantically went around cleaning. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to us, but I knew she wanted to eavesdrop. Tiffany waited for a little while, eating her ice cream and watching me eat mine.

"I wanna talk to you about something later," Tiffany said.

Her lips pressed against my cheek. They were cold and a bit sticky, but her kiss felt good. She brushed by me, and exited the kitchen. This left me alone with Betty. Before I could sneak off, Betty turned to face me. She dropped her hand, clenched around a mess of paper towels, down to her side.

"Everything okay?" Betty asked.

I nodded, unwilling at first to give up any information.

"You look a little concerned," she said.

"I've been through a lot this summer," I said.

"So I've heard," Betty said. "After Tiffany and Tracy told me about you…" She sighed. "Honestly I expected some boy to show up in drag, tripping around on his heels," Betty said. "I got to say, you really surprised me." She walked over closer to me. "You're darling."

"Thanks," I said quietly. A blush burned atop my cheeks.

"Then something dawned on me," Betty said. "You were at the pool party." She stepped even closer. "The pool party meant to be for all girls." Her eyebrows raised and she gave me a stern look.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Tiffany asked me to do it last minute. I didn't even know!"

"It's okay," Betty said, smiling. "You are a girl after all." She tossed the paper towels in the trash. "I'm going to let it slide for now." She looked me up and down. "I'm not going to forget though. You owe me! One for the pool party and another for this party."

"I'll make it up to you," I said. "I promise."

"You better!" Betty said. Then she broke into a smile. "I'm perfectly okay with you being a girl or a boy around here." She paused for a moment. "I'll just add it to your tab." She winked.

"Thanks Misses…" I caught myself. "Thanks Betty."

"Any time." Betty smiled at me again. "Go join the others."

I stepped out of the kitchen. My mind began circling around something I could do to make it up to Betty. Why did I promise? I didn't have a clue what she wanted, but maybe there was just an understanding now between us. As I came into the living room and saw Tiffany on the couch, I started to let it slip to the back of my mind. I sat on the end of the couch next to Tiffany, smoothing my skirt with my empty hand as I sat down. Before long the movie started, and I forgot all about my promise to Mrs. Young.

The first movie we watched was The Secret Garden. I suddenly noticed the resemblances between Tiffany and the lead actress. Not only did Tiffany look like her, but they also had the same playfulness about them. This little fact alone made me enjoy the movie a lot more. I started picturing Tiffany and I playing our little games in a secret garden. In the garden I could be Bailey, and nobody would care at all.

Tiffany finished off her ice cream, and moved closer to me. When I finished my ice cream, Tracy got up, before I could, and took our bowls to the kitchen. Eventually Tiffany put her head on my shoulder, and wrapped her arms around mine. I crossed my legs, like Melanie had shown me at the spa, with the right over the left toward her. Tiffany curled her legs beneath her, and put her left hand on my bare knee.

When Tracy came back in, the whole room shifted. Tracy sat on the other end of the couch, and Vanessa moved over to sit between her and Tiffany. Then Vanessa kicked her flip-flops off and swung her legs up onto Tiffany's lap. Her calves ended up in my lap, and her feet rested on the arm of the couch. I watched her ease her head down into Tracy's lap, then she turned to watch the movie.

At first I thought it was a little rude. It felt like Vanessa desperately made an effort to force herself into our private space. Then I saw Tracy was okay with it, as she started to run her hand through Vanessa's hair. Tiffany seemed okay with it too, as she had moved her left hand from my knee, to put it on Vanessa's left leg. After a minute or two, she started to move her hand up and down Vanessa's leg.

"Her legs are so smooth," Tiffany said quietly. "You should feel them."

Tiffany's blessing was all the motivation I needed. I moved my right hand up onto the side of Vanessa's left leg. Soon I had my hand sliding up and down her calf. Tiffany was right. Vanessa's legs were really smooth. Then Tiffany moved my left hand onto her own right thigh. She moved my hand up her inner thigh, until it brushed against her loose knit shorts.

"She's already shaving them," Tiffany said beside my ear. "Then she moisturizes twice a day." She turned her lips toward me even more. "They feel good don't they?"

I nodded.

"I started doing it too," Tiffany whispered. "Can you tell?"

"It feels nice," I said, trying not to draw any attention.

"I was thinking how sexy it would be if you started to do the same," Tiffany whispered, putting emphasis on the word sexy.

"I could try it," I said. "There isn't much to shave though."

"Do it anyway," Tiffany said. "For me."

"Okay," I said. My voice was barely audible. "I'll do it."

Tiffany licked my earlobe. "Thank you," she breathed into my ear. Then she gave me a kiss on the cheek and went back to watching the movie.

Before long I had my hands running over the legs of two girls. Tiffany stared straight ahead at the television screen. Each time I neared the hem of her shorts she would flinch. This caused me to retract my hand down her leg, and she would take a deep breath. Vanessa, after awhile, had closed her eyes, and was also breathing heavily. She opened her eyes every so often to check her surroundings, and would shut them again after a brief moment.

I surveyed the room for a moment. Kale and Danielle, who were sprawled out on the floor actually watching the movie, were oblivious to everything going on around them. In the oversized chair, to the left of the couch, Megan and Tawny were snuggled up closely. From the way they were situated, one could say Tawny took on the role of a boy, and Megan the role of a girl.

At first I thought Megan and Tawny were just acting overly friendly. Then I soon realized that didn't fit at all with the situation I witnessed. Megan shifted her legs over Tawny's lap, and let her head down to rest across Tawny's chest. She wrapped her arm around Tawny's midsection. Then Tawny lowered her lips to Megan's head and kissed her hair. I watched for a moment longer as Tawny started to caress Megan's nylon-clad legs.

"Don't Megan and Tawny make a cute couple?" Tiffany asked in a whisper near my ear.

Well that answered that question. I turned to whisper back. "Are they lesbians?"

"No silly," Tiffany said. "They're like us."

"What?" I really did not get what she said at first.

"You don't recognize Megan?" Tiffany asked.

I turned and looked at Megan. She did have certain familiar characteristics. I started to think I had seen her before, but I just couldn't place a finger on it. It dawned on me that I would need a little help on this one. Luckily Tiffany was prepared to help me out a little more. Though her hints were vague at best.

"She went to our school," Tiffany whispered.

"I'm gonna need a little more than that," I said.

"He was in our class last year, and fifth grade with you."

Then it hit me. I finally got what Tiffany had said about those two being like us. She just had to say it for me to know. Otherwise I wouldn't have figured it out at all. Megan was like me, another boy dressed up like a girl. She made one heck of a girl too from what I was looking at. Yet I still couldn't place her. I had to think for a moment, to think of her as a him.

"Brice…" Tiffany whispered.

"Brice Seong," I said, as his name finally came to me.

There was no way that was Brice. I couldn't picture him as his former self. In school he straddled the line between shy, quiet nerd and reclusive geek. He never actively sought friends, and I don't know if he ever had any in elementary school. As a girl he seemed to find plenty. Brice hadn't yet lost his shyness, but he looked happy where he was at, nestled up in the chair with Tawny.

"I can't believe it," I said. "He makes one cute girl."

"So do you," Tiffany said.

"What about them?" I asked, gesturing toward Tracy and Vanessa.

"What?" Tiffany asked.

"Are they a couple too?"

"Oh, no…" Tiffany held in a giggle. "They've just been friends forever." She leaned in closer. "Remind me to tell you something later."

"Okay…"

I looked back at Megan. What I now knew, I couldn't believe. Someone out there happened to be going through exactly what I was going through. Not only that, but we were in the same town, not hundreds of miles apart. I wanted to talk to Megan about everything that night, but I never got the opportunity. However, what I learned stuck with me the rest of the night.

I thought about all the things I could talk to Megan about during the ride home. There were hundreds of questions I had to ask her. In the car, my mother asked the usual questions about how the party went. I brushed them off with simple answers. At one point I told her I wished I could have stayed the night, as we were having so much fun. She reminded me of Tom's rule, and that was the end of that.

Even in bed that night, as I drifted off to sleep in my lavender pajamas, I still couldn't stop thinking about Megan. It wasn't that I liked her, so much as I liked what we had in common. Somehow, among the mass confusion swimming around in my head, I found the will to drift off to sleep. I didn't know how long I slept, but I woke up around three in the morning. From the other room I could hear Tom and my mother arguing.

For a moment I remained still in my bed. I couldn't make out what they were saying though. So I slipped out from under my sheets, and set my feet down softly upon the carpet. I sneaked over to my door, and opened it quietly. Now I could make out what they were saying. After listening for a little while, I realized their argument centered around me.

"You told me you would learn to accept it," my mother said. "After all of that --"

"I said to let things happen naturally," Tom interjected. "Instead you're dragging him to salons and letting him get his hair styled like…"

"Like a girl?"

"Have you seen him Susan?" There was a slight pause. "Not only have you pushed him over the top with your little schemes, but now he's even acting like a little girl. What's next?" Another pause. "Are you going to take his shoes away and force him to wear heels from now on?"

"You could be more supportive," my mother said.

"There's a huge difference between supportive," Tom said, "and pushing someone down the path you want them to go. Now you're influencing what he even wears from day to day."

"Like you did at first?"

"And I admit it was a mistake," Tom said. "It only made him want it more." Another pause filled the tense atmosphere. "Now look at him! He's walking like a girl now, even sitting like one. Before long he'll be doing it naturally, and then what? I bet he even sits down to --"

"And you're saying it's all my fault?"

"Maybe you should stop pushing him to be your little daughter," Tom said. "Maybe you should let things run there natural course."

"Maybe they already have," my mother said. "Maybe this is what he wants!"

"Maybe what I want is for people to stop fighting over what I want," I said, now standing in their doorway.

"Bailey…" My mother started to rush over to hug me.

"No!" I said, pushing her away.

For some reason I saw her as the enemy now. As horrible as it sounded in my mind, Tom was right. I realized my mother had been pushing me into this. Tiffany, Kate, and now my new "teacher" Melanie were all trying to push me into being a girl. Maybe it didn't seem like a bad thing to them at the time, but at my age I started to think more and more that it was a bad thing. Tom's line of thinking started to wedge its way into my brain. They both stared at me, waiting for me to talk.

"Maybe I do have a problem," I said.

"No, Bailey…" my mother said.

"Let him finish," Tom said.

"Tom is right," I said. "I have to do this the right way." I looked at the floor. "I can't pretend I'm something I'm not, without knowing what I am first. If I'm supposed to stay a boy…" I looked up at Tom. "Then so be it." Then I looked at my mother. "If I'm messed up somehow, and I'm supposed to be a girl…" I looked back at Tom. "Then the doctor will know what to do."

"I'm glad to see you're thinking about this all logically," Tom said.

"Are you saying you want to see the doctor?" my mother asked.

"I want to know the truth about all of this," I said.

"Then I'll take you to see Doctor Peterson next week," my mother said.

"No." I shook my head. "I want to see the specialist Tom told me about."

"You talked to a specialist?" my mother asked Tom.

"I felt something had to be done," Tom said. "He's the best in the area with this sort of knowledge."

"Fine," mom said. "I'll take him. When's the appointment?"

"Mom…" I looked at the floor again. "I kind of want Tom to handle this."

"That's silly. I'm your mother!"

"Sue," Tom said. "There might be some issues he'd feel more comfortable talking to another male about." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'd like to handle this one."

"Oh…" My mother stepped back to sit on the bed. "Well if that's what you want."

"Thanks for understanding mom," I said.

Tom gave me a sincere look. "Why don't you run along back to bed?"

Back to bed I went. For at least half an hour I had a restless fit with my thoughts. I hope I didn't make the situation worse than it was, but for some reason I felt betrayed by my mother. After all, the clothes were her idea. The trip to the spa was her idea. I started to think even the parties and the female lessons with Melanie were her idea. Maybe she had some hidden desire, left over from dressing her brother up, to turn me into a girl.

Perhaps my mother had every woman in town involved. Then again, they all might've been on my side. I didn't know. However, what I did know, was that on Monday, Tom and I would be on the right track to figuring all of this out. I'm sure the doctor would know what was needed. With this slight peace of mind wrapping up all of my thoughts, I drifted off to sleep once more.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 7

The weekend between Tracy's party and my first visit to Doctor Dinesh's office, felt like the longest two days of the summer. Outside the doctor's office the weather felt hot and sticky. Inside it felt cold and uninviting. I didn't even get that stuffy feeling you get in most doctor's offices. As I sat in the waiting room, I thought I could even deal with sick people around me, if it would just get rid of the odd feeling I had.

Tom sat beside me, quietly filling out paperwork. He and my mother had kept me quite busy the whole weekend. I think it was partly to keep my mind off of this appointment. It also kept me from slipping back into my usual routine. Which was a good thing. I probably would have gone into normal mode and blown off the appointment. However, now I couldn't get rid of the anxiety welling up inside of me.

"You don't have any allergies do you?" Tom asked.

"None that I know of," I said.

He gave me a reassuring look, and went back to the paperwork. How little he actually knew about me. I didn't know if choosing Tom to take care of this was the right thing, but it felt better than having mom do it. For some reason I could picture my mother bringing her lovey-dovey approach to the situation, and end up doing things based on what she wanted. At the moment, I didn't believe she had my best interests at heart, but rather hers.

Tom on the other hand wanted to get to the bottom of it. He claimed he didn't care what the outcome was, he just wanted to know what the outcome would be. I watched him lean to the side and pull out his wallet from the right back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a card and copied off some numbers from it onto the paper. I had to believe he was in this for the truth, rather than a hopeful wish.

"Do you think we'll know today?" I asked.

"I don't know," Tom said. "We'll just have to wait and see."

The secretary at the desk, a frail woman in her mid fifties, glanced up at us. She probably didn't have a lot to do, and seemed to be anxiously awaiting the paperwork. I looked at the television. The usual daytime talk show illuminated the screen. Boring! I looked down at the corner filled with toys. Six or so years ago, I would've been occupying my time with the train set or blocks, my mind a hundred miles from here. There were magazines, but mostly adult reading material.

I stared at the clock on the wall. Soon my mind was absorbed in the sound of each second ticking away. Tom scribbled away at the paperwork next to me. Before long a door opened across the sea of light blue carpet, and a young nurse stepped through. Her hair exploded in vibrant red curls from a band holding it tightly behind her head. The light blue scrubs she wore clung to what I could only imagine was a very fit body underneath.

"Bailey?" the nurse said, looking at me with her gorgeous hazel eyes.

"That's me," I said, having to reevaluate my name for a second.

"Well come on back sweetie," the nurse said. "Your stepfather can finish the paperwork."

I gave Tom a quick glance, but he only encouraged me to go on. Usually my mother would go back with me to see the doctor. I didn't really feel comfortable playing the adult now, but I guess Tom figured I could handle it. As I slipped from the chair and walked toward the nurse, I suddenly felt very self-conscious. She watched my every step, and smiled when I drew closer to her.

"My name's Jennifer," the nurse said, offering her hand. "Or you may call me Nurse Sweeny. Whichever makes you feel more comfortable."

I took her hand and shook it. She ushered me through the door and closed it behind us. As I stood there on the other side of the door, Jennifer did a quick assessment of me. She wrote some things down on a chart. Then she looked me over again, and wrote a little more. With pen in hand, she gestured toward some scales.

"We'll get you measured and weighed," Jennifer said. "Then you'll see Doctor Dinesh. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, a bit of nervousness lifting my voice.

"Shoes off," Jennifer said. "Then step up on the scales."

I kicked off my white mule sneakers. My mother had suggested I put on whatever would make me feel comfortable today. What made me feel comfortable happened to be female clothing. I didn't go overboard with it, but I clearly stepped out of the house looking like a young girl. If my clothing didn't give me away instantly, my flirty female hairstyle and bright pink nails did for sure.

"Do you always dress this way Bailey?" Jennifer asked. Her face was buried in her clipboard.

I wanted to lie, but the truth would only help me in the long run. "I've been dressing more and more lately."

"Is your wardrobe all feminine attire?" She looked up at me. "Or do you have boy things as well?"

"I have both." I watched her start to scribble at the paper. "But I haven't worn many boy things this month."

Jennifer looked up at me. She studied my face for a moment. Then she lowered her face to the clipboard and started to scribble away at it again. For a lengthy moment I stood there in silence as she wrote. Through my lightweight ankle socks, I could feel the cold steel of the scales under my feet. Finally Jennifer looked up at me.

"Do you feel comfortable with what you're wearing?" she asked.

I looked down at my jeans. They were the pair my mother had bought me, with the pink butterfly leaving a glittery trail of pink up the leg. Though they were a bit tight, they weren't horribly uncomfortable. The bright yellow top I picked out, hugged a bit, and the cap sleeves gave that feeling of wanting to pull them down for more coverage. As my eyes came back up to meet Jennifer's, I suddenly realized this probably wasn't at all what she was asking.

"I feel comfortable in girls' clothing," I said. "I usually wear skirts."

Jennifer went back to scribbling at the clipboard. "I meant the attire you had on at the moment," she said. "You seem a bit uncomfortable, but your answer was good." She looked up at me. "The more open and honest you are with your answers, the better we can find the right course of action for you."

"Well in that case," I said. "The jeans are a bit tight, and my arms are freezing. I'm a bit nervous too."

"It is a bit cold in here." Jennifer smiled at me. "The jeans are cute though," she said. "Where did you find them?" She reached behind me to mess with the measuring stick on the scales.

"My mother found them in a consignment shop," I said. "We both found quite a few things actually."

"Frugal and stylish," Jennifer said. "Smart girl." She paused with what she was doing to look at me. "Do you mind being called a girl?"

"It doesn't bother me," I said. "I'm kind of getting used to it."

"Okay," Jennifer said. "Thought I would ask. Some do. Some don't. It all depends." She went back to measuring me. "Four feet…" She leaned a bit closer to read the measurement. "Nine inches."

"Is that good or bad?" I asked.

"It's about average," Jennifer said. She glanced at me. "Try not to worry too much. You'll just stress yourself out." She started to play with the sliders on the scales. "Ninety three pounds." She pulled back to look me in the eyes. "Again, about average."

I could tell she was trying to get me to relax. Though this felt like any normal doctor visit so far, I knew it would take a drastic turn at some point. That was the part that made me nervous. Jennifer had me step down from the scales. She scribbled away at the clipboard as I slipped my shoes back on. When Jennifer finally finished jotting things down, she beckoned me to come with her to an examination room.

"Some of the questions Doctor Dinesh may ask will be very personal," Jennifer said, "but remember, the more open you are, the better." She stepped over to the examination table. "After I leave, we'd ask that you remove your top and bra, and put on this gown." She pointed at what looked like a folded up blue sheet on the table. "The opening goes in the back, if you've never worn one before." She stepped back over to the door. "This is just a routine physical, so don't be nervous. Okay?"

"I'll try," I said.

Jennifer gave me a reassuring smile, and then removed herself from the room. The door shut with a resounding click, giving the room an even colder feeling. I pulled my shirt off, and draped it across the examination table. As I fumbled with my bra, I looked around the room. There were the typical charts you would see in any examination room. However, there were other charts I had never seen before.

On one wall there was a chart of several different drawings of what appeared to be a penis, but in various stages of development. Next to that was another chart showing various stages of female reproductive organs, but some with a penis drawn on the model. Both of these charts boggled my mind. However, another chart stole my attention for what seemed like an hour. It had various words with definitions. Among those words were cross-dresser, transsexual, and transvestite.

I carefully read the definitions of several of the words. Mindlessly I pulled the examination gown from the table. As I fidgeted with the gown, I continued to read. My mind seemed on the verge of information overload. Somehow I managed to get the gown on as I read. By the time I had the laces tied at the small of my back, I heard a gentle knock on the door. The door scooted open slowly, and an Indian man, nearing his forties, walked into the room.

"Bailey?" the man asked, closing the door behind him.

"Hi," I said, nervously collecting my bra and shirt.

"I am Doctor Dinesh," the man said with a slight accent. "You may call me Rajan if you like." He gestured to the chair in the corner. "You may put your things over there."

I quickly tossed my belongings onto the chair. "Nice to meet you Rajan."

"Nice to meet you as well Bailey," Rajan said. "Could I ask you to please remove your shoes, socks and jeans as well?"

He noticed my hesitation, and turned to a counter in the room to write on a clipboard. After making sure he wouldn't turn back suddenly, I kicked my sneakers off and pushed them under the chair. Then I double-checked to make sure he wasn't looking again, and went to unfasten my jeans. I felt I had to be modest in front of him, even if he was a doctor. I slipped my jeans off and draped them across the chair. Rajan turned back around as I was putting my socks in the chair.

"Thank you Bailey," he said. "Have a seat on the table please."

He leaned over and pulled out a step from within the table. I walked to the foot of the table, and stepped up onto the step. Rajan flipped through sheets on his clipboard. When I turned to sit on the table, I instinctively smoothed the gown beneath me. Rajan glanced up from the clipboard at that moment, and then clicked his pen. He set about scribbling on the clipboard, before setting it down on the counter. Then he stepped over in front of me.

"Have you had any changes in appetite lately?" Rajan asked, putting his hands on my neck to feel my glands. "Eating less, or eating more?"

"Maybe eating a little less," I said.

"Uh huh," Rajan said. "Any pain, discomfort, dizziness or feelings of lightheadedness?"

"No."

Rajan pulled the gown down slightly and examined my neckline. "Are you experiencing any mood swings, or any bouts of depression?"

"I get sad sometimes," I said, "but not depressed."

He paused to look directly into my eyes. "Any thoughts of suicide?"

"No!" I said. "Not at all."

"Good," Rajan said. "Why don't you tell me about how you started dressing?"

As I told Rajan the events of the past month, he continued to examine me. He took up my left wrist, slowly and carefully looking up and down my arm, and then turned it to look at the other side. Then he repeated it with my right arm. He even closely examined my armpits. I continued to ramble on my account of the summer up to this point.

Next Rajan examined my left leg, all the way from mid-thigh down to my toes. When he reached my feet, he took extra care to check in between my toes along with my soles. He then repeated the process on my right leg. This all took several minutes. Every so often he would look up at me, reassuring me to continue with my account. The last thing he checked was the back of my neck and behind my ears.

"Lie back please," Rajan said, during a pause in my story.

I laid back on the table, and Rajan came over to my side. He started feeling around my abdomen, poking and prodding in various areas, as I continued the story. Before long he had me sit back up, and pulled out a small hammer and tested my reflexes. Then he went back to the chart and started jotting things down. A moment of silence filled the room.

"Please go on," Rajan said.

"That's all of it," I said.

"So you've been out several times as a girl in public?" Rajan asked, sitting on a stool to face me. "Including today?"

"About half of the summer so far," I said.

"I see…" Rajan scribbled something down. "Do you enjoy being a girl?"

"It's fun at times," I said. "But a lot of hard work to keep up with it all."

"I can imagine," Rajan said. "You do pretty well keeping up appearances."

He stood up and brought his stethoscope up to his ears. Then he stepped around behind me, and opened my gown slightly. In a few seconds I felt the cold end of the stethoscope on my back. Rajan did the routine check, making me breathe normally while moving the stethoscope to various spots. Then he pulled the gown off of my left shoulder and checked a few spots in the front.

I fixed my gown back as he stepped away. He returned a few seconds later and examined my ears. Then he checked my blood pressure and temperature. After a quick check of my throat, he discarded the tongue depressor and sat back on his stool. For several moments he wrote away on the clipboard. I was scared he was going to run out of paper before too long. This made me chuckle, and he caught it.

"Something funny?" Rajan asked.

"I was just thinking you're going to run out of room to write after awhile."

Rajan dropped his head and chuckled. "Well… we just want to see if you're healthy physically," he said. "And from the look of things, you're in pretty good shape." He put the clipboard in his lap and looked up at me. "But now I'm afraid I'm going to have to get a bit more personal with you."

"Okay," I said.

"Some of the things I'll ask might make you feel a bit uncomfortable," Rajan said. "If you would like, I can have your stepfather sit in for this part."

"I think that would make me more uncomfortable," I said.

"I understand," Rajan said. "I just want to reassure you that I'm a professional and a specialist in this field of medicine, but it appears that what you are dealing with is a gender identity disorder. Unfortunately this involves sexual organs, and at most times some embarrassing topics."

I swallowed hard. "I think I can handle it."

"All I ask is that you be open and honest," Rajan said. "If something makes you uncomfortable, let me know, and we can come back to it later when you're more comfortable."

"Okay."

Rajan pulled the clipboard up, and clicked his pen. "We'll start with some easy questions to help you feel more comfortable," Rajan said. "Do you enjoy the feelings associated with dressing as the opposite sex?"

"I like how the clothes feel."

Rajan nodded. "More than your male attire?"

"A lot more," I said. "Mostly I like the materials and the way some of them are lighter than my boy clothes."

"Do you feel vulnerable in the clothing?" Rajan asked.

"I do," I said. "Especially with skirts."

"That's understandable," Rajan said. "Do you like that feeling?"

I thought for a moment on this question. The questions were obviously aimed to get me thinking, and progressively get harder. Did I like the feeling of being vulnerable? I recalled Tom taking me over his knee, revealing his dominance over my vulnerability when he spanked me. Though I didn't like that at all, I did like the way Nathan took extra care to treat me with respect. Damn it! Why did I always come back to thinking about Nathan at times like this?

"I guess I like the way people treat me," I said.

"How do you mean?"

"Everything's more gentle," I said. "I never liked people being rough with me, and I never liked being rough to others. Some boys tend to show me more respect now."

Rajan wrote on his clipboard. "You don't get a lot of respect from other boys?"

"Not really," I said. "I haven't even talked to my male friends from school."

"Are you afraid of how they would react to the new you?"

"I don't think they'd like it," I said. "They'd probably beat me up or something."

"Do you think you could face them again, if it meant you'd be able to live as a girl?"

"I would definitely try," I said. "I just don't know how they'd take it."

"Do you have fantasies about boys coming to your rescue, or defending you in some way?"

"None that I can think of."

"Do you ever have thoughts of being with a boy?" Rajan asked.

"I…"

Rajan looked up from the clipboard. "This is strictly between you and I. Whatever you tell me won't leave this room."

"Just one," I said.

"What's his name?" Rajan asked, going back to writing.

"Nathan," I said. "He lives down the street from me."

"What is it you like about Nathan?" Rajan asked.

"He gets me," I said.

"Gets you?" Rajan looked up at me. "How so?"

"Like…" I looked at the floor. "He tries to involve me in things, even though he knows I'm different. It doesn't really change things between us." I looked back up to see Rajan nodding.

"So you've been around Nathan as a girl and boy, and it doesn't phase him?"

"No…" I said. "He's never seen me as a boy."

"But he knows you are a boy?" Rajan asked.

"Yes," I said. "I had to tell him."

"And after telling him, he still didn't see you as a boy?"

"I always dress as a girl when he comes over."

"Do you go out of your way to dress for him?" Rajan asked. "Do you want him to see you as a girl?"

"I guess so," I said. "In a way. I never really thought about it though. I just thought he'd be more comfortable seeing me as a girl, since he knew and didn't ever see me as a boy."

"Are you saying you were dressing to please him?" Rajan asked, looking up again from the clipboard.

"Maybe…" I said. "I think it was more out of convenience."

Rajan nodded, going back to the clipboard. "Do you find this boy attractive?"

The questions were starting to get more personal. I shifted on the examination table. The sound of rustling paper filled the room. Rajan looked up from his clipboard. I dropped my eyes, not wanting to look into his. He sat there quietly. It became increasingly obvious I would have to answer this eventually.

"Take your time," Rajan said.

I waited until he went back to his clipboard. "He's attractive," I said. "I can't deny that. But I don't think he's attracted to me."

"Do you think about him a lot?" Rajan asked.

I sighed. "I do. He seems to come up in everything."

"Everything?"

"I'll be doing something totally random, like watching TV," I said. "And I'll just think about what Nathan would think if he saw something that popped on." I paused. "Or like the other day when I was at the spa, I thought about how he would react if he saw me then."

"When was the last time you thought about him?" Rajan asked.

"When you asked me the question about feeling vulnerable," I said.

"Nathan makes you feel vulnerable?" Rajan asked.

"No," I said. "I don't know. Sort of?" I searched my thoughts for a moment. "He's the type of guy that would see me in a vulnerable spot, and take care not to crush it."

"You're saying he's the one that's gentle with you?" Rajan asked. "He treats you like a girl?"

"Yes."

"And you like this feeling?"

"Yes."

"Do you have sexual fantasies about Nathan?" Rajan asked. "Do you think about kissing him, or doing more than being friendly with him?"

Well now I will! I looked up at the ceiling. "None that I can recall."

"Are you sexually active?" Rajan asked, keeping his head down.

"I had…" I paused. "It was one time with my girlfriend."

"Oh," Rajan said. "Were you dressed during this experience with your girlfriend?"

"Yes," I said.

"Is this the same girl you mentioned earlier?" Rajan asked. "The one that helped you dress the first time?"

"Yes," I said. "She's the same one."

"You mentioned she likes you being a girl," Rajan said. "You don't dress solely for her approval do you?"

"No," I said. "I mean, I would dress if she asked me to, obviously I did the first time, but I don't dress for her alone anymore. I actually like it." I looked at the top of Rajan's head and studied his curly black hair. "I would probably dress if she didn't like it, but her liking it makes us both happy."

"You said you had sex with this girl?" Rajan asked.

"It wasn't sex really," I said. I glanced away before he raised his head to look at me. "I don't know what to call it."

"Can you at least explain what happened?" Rajan asked. "Take your time."

"I still had panties on," I said. "She was naked though." I looked at my bare feet hovering over the step of the table. "We kind of rubbed against each other."

"Did you act as if you were a girl during this experience?" Rajan asked.

"Yes," I said. "I think that's what got her so into it."

"Did you become erect?" Rajan asked.

"No…" I thought over my experiences with Tiffany. "In fact, I've never become erect while dressed."

"Never?"

"I can't recall it ever happening," I said.

"How often do you experience an erection?" Rajan asked.

"I don't have many at all," I said. "Maybe once a week."

Rajan reached up and rubbed his chin. He scribbled something on the clipboard. Then he flipped through several of the papers. I sat there in silence, freezing my knees off in the cold room. Eventually Rajan pulled a sheet of paper from the clipboard, and rearranged it so it was on top. Then he stood up and stepped over to me.

"Have you experienced any blunt trauma to your genitalia?" Rajan asked. "Either recently or in the past that you can recall?"

"Not that I can…"

My words hung in midair like a man holding desperately to the edge of a cliff. Then my thoughts took me back to the pool party. Tiffany banged against me several times that night, and almost had me doubling over in pain. I forgot all about it, as there wasn't any pain the next day. The next day, however, was when we were rubbing up against each other, so it was easy to forget. I conveyed this entire chain of events to Rajan, and he stood there staring at me.

"So this happened the night before?" Rajan asked.

"Yes," I said. "I haven't had any erections since then that I can recall."

"I'd like to take a look," Rajan said, pulling two gloves from a box on the counter. "To make sure nothing was damaged."

I nodded silently. Rajan had me lean back on my elbows. He snapped on the gloves and waited patiently as I shimmied my white panties, covered with colorful dots, down to my knees. When they reached my knees, he helped me remove them the rest of the way. It felt a bit odd having him hand my panties over to me. I'd had a doctor touch my genitals before, for the usual cough test, but never had to have one hand me my panties.

"Put your feet in these," Rajan said, pulling out the stirrups from the table. "And scoot your bottom up to the edge of the table."

This was a first. I thought only women used these things when they were pregnant or something. I slipped first my left foot into a stirrup, and then my right foot. As I scooted toward the foot of the table, I could hear Rajan wheeling his stool up. After adjusting his gloves, he pulled my gown away to expose more of me. Then he looked up at me and put his hands on my thighs.

"Just lean back and relax," he said. He patted my thighs. "Relax your legs."

I couldn't relax. Everything about this seemed uncomfortable. What could I do though? I couldn't scream and run out of the exam room in nothing but a gown. If there was indeed a problem, I definitely needed to know about it. I trusted he had done this all before, being a doctor and all, and let Rajan go about his business. Though my mind never wandered further than where he touched me.

"Have you experienced any pain or swelling since the incident?" Rajan asked.

"Really bad pain the first night," I said. "But it was gone in the morning. There was a slight bruise where she bumped against me. I haven't noticed any swelling or pain since then."

"Well the area looks a bit swollen right now," he said.

Rajan cupped his hand around my scrotum. It made me jump, but not in pain. He patted my right thigh with his left hand, coaxing me to relax. For a moment it felt like he was weighing them in his hand. Soon he went about squeezing and rolling my testicles gently between his fingers. He pulled down on them lightly, and felt with his other hand the various cords above them.

"Does any of this hurt?" Rajan asked.

"A bit of dull pain when you pulled down," I said.

"Not unusual," Rajan said. "They didn't hurt when I squeezed them?"

"No…"

Rajan turned to write something down. "Any pain while urinating, or signs of blood in your urine?"

"I've been going a bit more."

"Do you wake up to go?"

"Maybe once a week," I said.

"Well they seem to be okay," Rajan said. "I can schedule you for an ultrasound to be sure." He wheeled away on his stool. "I don't think it's necessary though. I'd just like you to keep an eye on the area, and let me know if there are any changes."

"They're okay then?" I looked up over my knee to see him scribbling away at his clipboard.

"It might be nothing to worry about, because you haven't started puberty yet it seems," Rajan said. "But they're a little small for your age. They should have grown close to their adult size by now." He put the clipboard down and turned to face me. "It's a long shot, but I'd like to have some blood work done. You might have what's called hypogonadism."

"What is that?"

"It's when the gonads, in your case the testicles, have decreased activity. Like I said, it's a long shot, but it could explain a bit about what you're going through," Rajan said. "You seem to have a few of the symptoms." He looked at the paperwork. "We'd have to run some tests, and have you come in for a follow up." He stepped over and covered me a bit with the gown. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. You may just be a late bloomer."

"What happens if it is hypo…"

"Hypogonadism," Rajan said. "We would have to treat it with testosterone replacement therapy. Hopefully it would jumpstart your system into puberty as well." He gave me a sincere look. "Again, I wouldn't worry about it until we know something."

Rajan patted my knee. Then he helped me get my feet out of the stirrups. As I sat back up, I immediately pulled the gown down to cover myself as much as possible. Rajan hardly paid any attention to me. He went back to scribbling on the clipboard a little more. After a bit of awkward silence, he clicked his pen shut. Then he turned and gave me a reassuring smile.

"I'm going to step out and have a conversation with your stepfather," Rajan said. "Just sit tight. Jennifer will be in to take some blood, and then you can be on your way."

"Thanks Rajan," I said.

"Don't be so glum," Rajan said, pulling off his gloves to discard them. "You're actually in better shape than you think."

He shook my hand, and then removed himself from the room. Several minutes passed. I spent the time alone in silence, contemplating what his diagnosis even meant. I even checked to see if hypogonadism was on the chart full of words, but it wasn't there at all. This was all too adult for me, and I started to wish my mother was here. She would've understood this. At least I thought she would.

Jennifer eventually entered the room. She made some comment about how cute it was that my toenails matched my fingernails. Then she became my worst enemy for a few minutes, as she took blood from my arm like it was water from an ocean. After she finished, she told me to take a few minutes before getting up and dressed. I didn't feel lightheaded like she said I might. I just wanted to get my clothes back on and go home.

That would have to wait. Before I left, I had to see the secretary up front. She seemed all chipper that she actually got to be a part of my visit. After a quick rundown of my visit, and stating everything about me checked out physically, she gave me a packet to take home. She explained inside there were some questionnaires to bring back with me the next time I visited, or I could drop them off there at the office. Great! Homework…

Tom went ahead and scheduled my next appointment for mid August. I wasn't too happy with that, because it happened to be a week before school started. Not only that, but it only gave me a little over three weeks to go through questions that might take me a lifetime to answer. I felt it was Tom's little ploy to get me "cured" before I went back to school. As I turned away from the counter, I came face to face with someone very familiar.

"Meg?"

"Oh," Megan said shyly. "Hey Bailey." She produced a smile on her youthful olive-colored face.

"I wanted to talk to you at the party," I said, "but I didn't get a chance."

"I can give you my number," Megan said.

"Hey Tom," said a man who looked to be Megan's father. "Nice to see you again."

"Mark," Tom said, shaking the man's hand. "How are you?"

"Just bringing Megan in for a checkup," Mark said. "I see you took my advice."

"I didn't know where to turn," Tom said. "But when you told me about Megan, and then suggested Doctor Dinesh." He glanced at me. "I thought we'd at least see."

"Well I hope everything works out for you two," Mark said. "Maybe we'll see each other on poker night again."

"Count on it," Tom said. "You took me to the cleaners last time."

Tom and Mark laughed and joked about a few other things. Meanwhile, Megan quietly wrote her number down on the back of my appointment card. When she finished she lifted her pretty almond-shaped eyes to look into mine, and gave me a pleasant smile. I thanked her, right before Tom announced it was time to leave. We left shortly after, and I sat in silence for the first half of the ride home.

"So you know Megan huh?" Tom asked.

"From the party Friday," I said. "She was in my class too, but I don't know much about her."

"Well you two have a lot more in common than you think," Tom said.

"So I've heard…"

"Her dad was in the military," Tom said. "He wasn't home a lot, until recently when he got discharged." He leaned forward to look at a stoplight. "About a year ago Megan started showing signs she wanted to be a girl. Even wearing her mom's things. Mark caught her prancing around in his wife's slip and pantyhose." He glanced at me. "I guess things like that happen when you don't have a male role model around all of the time." His face turned back to the street. "Anyway, he met Rajan, and they got it all sorted out. Come to find out his son was made to be a girl."

"Really?"

"They said the best time to figure it out is when you're young," Tom said. "It's a lot easier to start the changes then." He paused for a moment. "They found out for Megan before puberty hit, which made it really easy on her to transition."

"So she's a girl now?"

"Well…" Tom glanced at me and then back to the street. "Almost. She has a bit more to go through until that decision is made, but she'll be going to school as a girl. It's called something like an adjustment phase."

I couldn't believe it. The thought of being a girl captured my attention for the rest of the ride home. My mother wanted to know everything about the visit to Doctor Dinesh, but I didn't feel like discussing it with her. I felt like there wasn't much to discuss. Rajan had said I was perfectly healthy, and even if I had a problem, he said it was a long shot. So really, what was there to say? There might be a problem? Why get my family worked up over something that could be nothing?

The week seemed to drag after Monday's doctor visit. I spent most of the afternoons filling in what few questions I thought I could answer on the papers they gave me. To be honest, questionnaires happened to be an understatement. What they gave me seemed more like a test to get into an ivy league college. How was I supposed to express how I felt, with my limited sixth grade vocabulary, on tests written by some snob who went to college for half of his life?

By the weekend I gave up on the test. Tiffany called me on Friday, and I got my mom to take us to see My Best Friend's Wedding before it disappeared from the theaters. Even though I wasn't in the mood for a movie like that, it was a bonus to see Julia Roberts again on the big screen. I'd always had a little crush on her. Honestly, the movie wasn't that bad either.

I had no choice, but to go as a girl to the movie. Though I easily could have thrown on some of my boy clothes and gone, I'd been too busy that week to do anything with my hair. I still had this girly half-punk-half-emo hairstyle. So I dressed as a girl more out of convenience. Tiffany didn't seem to mind, and we had a pretty good time for being chaperoned.

When Monday rolled around, I figured I had to get back to the questionnaire. Afternoons went by, and I wrote until my hands hurt. We didn't have a computer yet, as Tom saw them as another thing to keep fixing. So I handwrote my answers to question after question. I even got so involved with it by Thursday, that I skipped dinner to finish a section of it. By Saturday I couldn't take it anymore.

I remember the sun peaking through my window that Saturday morning. Tom had gone off to work, and my mother had picked up an extra day of work at her office. Her company had some major deal they had to complete by the end of summer, and she was getting more and more involved in it. In the living room I could hear my brother and Nathan watching television. Their voices carried through the house as they commented on the show they watched.

I hadn't seen Nathan since the day I played football with him. For some reason I really wanted to let him see my new hairstyle. I'd followed the advice I received from the spa, and every day had taken time to moisturize with what Melanie gave me. I even pushed myself to steal my mom's razor and shaved the peach fuzz off of my legs that week.

Everything I'd done, from taking care of my nails to learning how to walk in heels, made me feel extremely feminine, and I wanted to show it to Nathan. However, there was a huge problem. Somewhere between getting up that morning and going to my closet to find what to wear, I had collapsed in a heap on the floor. My mind had simply overloaded from everything I had to think about the past two weeks. Thoughts started to go in loops, bringing up the same questions over and over.

Why did I want to see Nathan? Why did I think he wanted to see me? Did I want him to see me as a girl? What did I have to prove by showing I was more girly now? Did I want to impress him? What am I going to wear? What could I wear that would impress him? Why did I want to see Nathan… as a girl?! Then I heard voices drawing closer to my door.

"Where is she anyway?" Nathan asked. "I kinda wanted to say hi."

"I thought she'd be up by now," Justin said. "Let me check on her."

A gentle knock sounded on my door. I didn't even have the will to answer. With a large pile of clothes around me, boys' and girls', I sat amidst it all in nothing but white panties and a white padded bra. The bra wasn't even closed in the back, and drooped off of my right shoulder. Clothes sat over my legs, which were situated out in front of me with my knees bent and facing outward. I could see my pink toenails sticking out from underneath it all.

"Bailey?" Justin asked quietly, as my door swept open over the carpet of my room. "You okay?" A moment of silence passed. "Bailey?" He stepped into my room. "I think something's wrong with her," he said to Nathan, who still stood in the hallway.

"What?" Nathan asked. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," Justin said. "She's not responding at all."

"Bailey?" Nathan asked, stepping into the room.

"I don't think you should…" Justin's voice trailed off.

"No it's okay," Nathan said. "Bailey?"

I realized his voice was close now. Nathan was actually in my room. He saw me like this! I still couldn't move though. Maybe I didn't want to move. If I just sat still, maybe they'd give up and go away. No such luck.

"Come on…" Justin said. "Say something."

"I don't want you guys to see me like this," I said.

"But I'm your brother," Justin said.

"Why don't you go get her some water," Nathan asked, "and an aspirin, or something?"

"Stay here with her," Justin said, before rushing out of the room.

"Bailey…" Nathan said, dragging out the vowel sounds of my name.

"You guys should just go," I said. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Nathan said. "Can I come over there?"

"Why?"

"I thought maybe you might need a little help digging out," he said. "Looks like your closet exploded on you."

I smiled. For the first time that week, someone had made me smile. My eyes got misty, and a chill ran up my spine. It just had to be Nathan. Why was he so damn nice to me? He didn't know me at all, yet he looked out for me like I was his sister. When I didn't respond to him, he quietly stepped over to me.

"What were you trying to do?" Nathan asked, his voice hushed beside me.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, and then clenched my lips for a moment. He wasn't going away. "I…"

"Why don't we start with this?" Nathan asked, moving to slide my bra strap back onto my shoulder. Then he hooked it closed behind me. "Better?"

I nodded quietly. Justin came back in the room. He handed Nathan a glass of water, and an aspirin. Nathan handed me the tiny white aspirin and waited until I put it in my mouth. Then he handed me the glass of water, and waited patiently for me to finish with it. When I had taken all I wanted, I handed the glass back to him, and he gave it to Justin.

"What's wrong with her?" Justin asked.

"I think she's just having a little trouble deciding what to wear," Nathan said.

I looked at him with tears in my eyes. Nathan smiled at me, and I returned a halfhearted smile. There seemed to be some sort of understanding between us. He knew there was something wrong, but he also knew I wasn't prepared at all yet to discuss it. Behind me I could hear Justin sitting down on the side of my bed. Nathan started to rummage through the clothes near me.

"What did you want to be today?" Nathan asked.

I shook my head. "I'm tired of questions."

"She's been filling out some stuff for the doctor the past two weeks," Justin said, almost as if commentating from my bed.

"Oh," Nathan said. "I'll pick something out for you then."

"What do you know about this?" I asked, becoming a bit more lively.

"I know plenty about what girls wear!" Nathan said.

"Shocking as that sounds," Justin said, "he actually does."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked, with a sniffle. I reached up and wiped my eyes.

"Well I think you could use some fresh air first of all," Nathan said. "Maybe something to wear to the park…"

"That sounds good," I said.

"See!" Nathan said. "I'm already one for one."

His comment tickled me. I didn't care how lame it may have been on a normal day, but right then it brightened up my mood. It even warranted a subtle laugh from me. Nathan picked through my clothes and tossed some aside. Then he found a pair of white short leggings I'd only worn once before to try on. They came down to just above my knees with a little inch of lace pattern at the bottom of the legs.

"These," Nathan said, "with the jean skirt there in your closet."

"The dark one?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

Nathan stood up beside me. Then he stooped over and helped me stand up. As I stood up, I instinctively became more modest, realizing I was in lingerie in front of two boys. Neither one of them took this into account. I think Justin was too busy watching Nathan, to make sure he didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Nathan meanwhile, made himself busy thumbing through my shirts in the closet.

I quickly slipped my feet through the legs of the leggings, and pulled them up to my waist. At least they would be some cover. Almost on cue, Nathan handed the skirt back to me. I took the skirt off the hanger, and stepped into it. After fastening the skirt closed around my waist, with the three buttons, I stood and watched Nathan. He finally settled on a shirt, and pulled it from the closet.

"With this," Nathan said, handing me the top.

He picked out a light pink tunic top I found at one of the consignment shops. I liked it because it was actually really comfortable. It had a scoop neck, which hung from the shoulders with two inch wide straps. Along the edge of the neck, as well as the arms, there was a bit of frilly trim. The midsection tapered in slightly with it tied in the back, giving it a fitted look, but quickly flowed out into a pleated three inches at the bottom.

Nathan watched as I slipped it on. It cascaded down my torso and fell wistfully over the top half of my skirt. He coaxed me to turn around. When my back faced him, he took up the drawstrings of the top and tied them into a bow behind me. It felt unusual for a guy to be doing this, but he was sweet about it. Now I kind of knew what my mom felt like when she asked Tom to zip up one of her dresses in the back. Justin looked on with a bewildered expression.

"I know I probably shouldn't say this," Justin said, "but you really do make a pretty girl."

"Thanks," I said.

"Can say it if it's true," Nathan said.

I spun around to face him. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Of course I do," Nathan said.

My face lit up into a smile.

"But hey, don't get the wrong idea," he said. "You're like my best friend's sister."

How quickly my smile faded. "What does that mean?"

"It means…" Nathan seemed to be thinking about what it meant. "I guess it means you're like a sister to me too," he said. "You know? I'll look out for you like Justin would."

"Oh… I see."

Though I really didn't. This whole time I thought he was into me. I mean what did I have to do to get his attention? Wait a minute! Why did I want his attention in the first place? Did I somehow subconsciously want his approval? Nathan gave me a pleasant smile. He turned to look through my shoes. I looked around at the pile of clothes.

"I should clean this up," I said.

"Don't worry about it," Justin said. "I'll help when we get back."

"Yeah," Nathan said. "I'll help too if I got time." He turned back to me holding out a simple pair of Roman thong sandals. "You need a break."

"We'll go wait for you in the living room," Justin said, as he stood and walked out of my room.

"My hair's probably a mess," I said.

"Not at all," Nathan said. "You look nice." He stepped to the door. "Just put on a little lip gloss or whatever, and you're set." He flashed me a smile and left the room.

I stepped over to the mirror. He wasn't lying. My hair actually looked good today. I sat down and slipped my feet into the thong sandals. Then I pulled the clear straps up over my heels and buckled them on the sides. Next I hurried over to my dresser. After rummaging through all of my nail polishes and makeup, I finally found my pink lip gloss. I also found some bubblegum.

I rushed across the hallway, and quickly brushed my teeth. After applying the lip gloss, I popped the bubblegum in my mouth and messed with my hair just a little. As I fluffed up my hair, I noticed my small bottle of ck one sitting on the counter. I decided to dab a little of it on my wrists and behind my ears. Then I dabbed a little behind my knees and put the bottle back down.

When I came out of the bathroom I suddenly remembered my sunglasses my mother had bought me the day of our spa visit. They were cheap little white-framed drugstore sunglasses, but the only girly ones I had. So I stepped into my room and grabbed them. I'd be in the sun anyway. I might as well have something. After slipping my lip gloss in the tiny pocket of my skirt, I was ready to go meet the boys.

"Well don't you look cute," Nathan said, standing when I came in the room.

"You look nice Bailey," Justin said. "Ready to go?"

I nodded, and followed Nathan out the front door. Justin locked the door, and the three of us headed to the park. The park happened to be about two blocks away, so it wasn't a huge trek. It felt good to get out in the sun. The warmth did a bit of good for my body being cooped up in the house for two weeks. I could definitely use the fresh air.

The park seemed a little too quiet for a Saturday. Maybe people had other things to do. There were a few mothers there with their little kids, and a few other older kids goofing around. I walked over to the swings with Nathan on my left side and Justin on my right. It had honestly been awhile since I'd been to the park. Perhaps it had even been over a year.

As I took a seat on one of the swings, a group of boys around Justin's age came into the park. They were tossing around a football, and it seemed they picked Justin up on radar. After a bit of talk, they convinced Justin to join them in a game. Nathan couldn't be convinced, however, and opted to sit the game out to talk to me. The guys gave him a bit of a hard time for this, but they eventually gave up and went away. I couldn't join them even if I wanted to, not because of Tom's rule, but because I had sandals on and would've fallen on my face.

"Didn't wanna leave you alone," Nathan said, strolling around behind me. "Besides, I'm tired from seven on seven camp, and two-a-days start next week…"

"I'm glad you stayed," I said, interrupting him before I heard all about football from him. "I don't know if I'll be that great of company though."

"Are you kidding?" Nathan asked. "You're always fun."

Nathan grabbed the chains of the swing and started twisting them over my head. I grabbed hold of the chains, and held on as he turned me around and around. Then he stopped and stepped back, letting go of the swing. The swing started to spin around, and I kept my knees tight together as I tucked my legs underneath it. When it started to twist up the other way, Nathan helped it. Then he released it to let me spin around the other way.

"Okay," I said, after several more spins. "That's making me dizzy."

Nathan chuckled. "You want me to push you?"

"I just wanna sit," I said.

"No problem," Nathan said, taking a seat on the swing next to me.

For several minutes we sat there in silence. I watched my brother playing football off in the distance. Something told me I'd be watching him a lot more once he started on the varsity team. Junior varsity football didn't warrant me being dragged out on a school night, but I knew Tom wouldn't be able to resist those Friday night games. I'm sure he would make it so my mom and I weren't able to resist either.

"What did you mean earlier?" Nathan asked. "When you said you were tired of questions."

"Oh…" I shook my head. "It's just this dumb questionnaire I had to fill out for the doctor."

"Doctor?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm seeing a doctor that specializes in my… whatever I am."

"He only sees cute girls?" Nathan asked, smiling.

"You know what I mean," I said. I frowned at him. "This is pretty serious."

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. "I'm just trying to get you to feel better."

"I feel fine," I said. "Just tired of these questions. They're just a bunch of questions I don't think I can answer. Some I don't even understand."

"Like what?"

"Like…" I tried to think of one of the questions I was stumped on. "Explain your perception of yourself, or any feelings of elation when performing tedious responsibilities while presuming the role of the opposite gender."

"Wow…" Nathan said. "You sure you're not supposed to be taking that test with your mom, or something?"

"They didn't say to," I said. "But what does it even mean?"

"Well…" Nathan said. "It means to tell them how you view yourself, or how happy you are, when doing normal day-to-day things when you're dressed as a girl." He looked at me. "Like for instance, how do you feel right now?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah," Nathan said. "You took a day out to go to the park as a girl. There's nothing more normal than that."

"I guess I feel normal," I said. "It feels like I'm out in public as a girl."

"And are you happy about it?" Nathan asked.

"I'm happy to be away from those questions," I said with a giggle.

"Seriously…" Nathan said, pushing me away on the swing. "Are you happy as a girl?"

"Most of the time," I said. "I mean you can't be happy all of the time."

"Of course not," Nathan said. "But you just admitted you feel perfectly happy and normal in the role of a girl. Simple enough to answer. Sounds like you just need a thesaurus." He pushed me again when I swung back to him. "You're a pretty smart girl Bailey. You'll figure it out."

I swung into him playfully. "So you think I'm cute, and smart?"

"Yeah," Nathan said. "But don't get a big head about it."

He smiled at me. I smiled back. We playfully swung into each other on the swings. After awhile we ended up playing footsy with each other. I could tell he liked it, and I could definitely tell he had a thing for feet. A few minutes passed and then I purposefully rubbed my bare legs against his. This really got his attention.

"You wanna get out of the sun?" Nathan asked.

"It feels good," I said, sliding my leg against his. "Doesn't it?"

"A bit too hot," Nathan said. "I've been outside a lot lately."

I stood up and glanced around. My eyes landed on one of the picnic shelters. "Let's go over there."

I set off toward the picnic shelter, a very secluded picnic shelter I might add. Nathan followed closely behind me. When we got over there, I waited until Nathan sat down first. This would decide how and where I sat. I knew he had some kind of feelings for me, and I was determined to get them out in the open. Not to mention I had my own feelings to share.

Nathan chose to sit on one of the benches of an aluminum picnic table. He situated himself out of the sun, but as to be able to see the guys playing football. I had other plans, and needed his attention for them to work. With the sexiest and most flirtatious walk I could muster, I strolled in front of him. I gracefully stepped up onto the bench he sat on, and turned to sit right next to him on the table. Then I crossed my right leg over my knee, and where my leg ended up was right in front of him.

"You were right," I said. "This does feel better."

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He turned his head slightly to stare at my foot, and then turned it a bit more. His eyes trailed up my leg, until eventually he had his whole head turned to face my legs. Whether he wanted to admit it, or not, I had him. He either had feelings for me, or he was completely infatuated with my lower body.

"Find something you like down there?" I asked, using Kate's line that hooked me in several weeks ago.

"Your legs…" Nathan said, almost mindlessly. "I mean… they smell good."

"Oh… I put a dab of perfume behind my knees," I said.

"No," Nathan said. "I mean, I like that too, but it's the cherry and vanilla I smelled earlier in your room."

"Oh!" I said. "That's my new lotion I got at the spa." I lifted my leg slightly toward his face. "I've been using it more lately. Makes my skin really smooth too."

"May I?" Nathan asked without even blinking.

"Be my guest," I said.

As soon as his hand touched my leg, I knew he was mine. The only problem was, I didn't know what to do with him. Perhaps I should have thought this through a little better. I couldn't stop him now. It would be rude. After all, I was the one who initiated the contact. I didn't know if I would have control enough to stop though. Tiffany had control enough to stop me, and she was totally nude. However, she had quite a few more years on me of using her feminine wiles.

Nathan's hand ran up my bare calf, and back down to my heel. Then he lifted it closer to his face. At first I thought he was going to kiss my leg, but instead he brought it to his nose and took in a deep breath. As he exhaled, he let his breath trail over my bare skin. Then he moved his nose up to my knee and took in another deep breath. Again, he exhaled over my bare skin.

"You like?" I asked.

"Yes," Nathan said, while exhaling.

My plan suddenly blew up in my face. While I was trying to find out what Nathan's feelings for me were, I didn't expect him feeling me to feel so good. With his hand still on my heel, he turned to straddle the bench. His right hand came up to greet my leg, and he used it to rub up and down the back of my calf. Before long his left hand started to half-massage-half-tickle my foot. His thumb kept going between my sandal and foot to caress the arch of my foot.

"You shouldn't let all of this doctor stuff stress you out," Nathan said. "Take a break from it every once in awhile."

This really wasn't at all what I had in mind when I started this. I had wanted to talk to Nathan. Instead I sat there, like an idiot, unable to speak. The sensations I received, from Nathan's touch, sent my mind off into another dimension. He made my body shiver in eighty-five degree weather. I couldn't even move.

His fingers grazed over my leg. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Nathan didn't go overboard like I expected he would. He simply teased me, playfully letting his fingers trail up and down my leg and around my ankle. Meanwhile, the fingers of his other hand moved lightly around the exposed parts of my foot and toes. He traced the clear plastic straps of my sandal.

My gaze fixated on the horizon. Blue skies, clouds, trees, they all became blurred into a glob of nothingness. In the distance I could hear people shouting, mainly from my brother's football buddies. Wait a minute! My brother! What if he saw us? I thought about pulling my foot away, but it wasn't really something to get worked up over. I guess it wasn't any different than what I did at the party the other night with Vanessa.

"This doesn't bother you does it?" Nathan asked.

"Huh?"

"Me touching you like this?" Nathan asked. "You seem kind of jittery."

"It's fine," I said. "I take it you like feet?"

"I do," Nathan said. "Legs too. You probably think I'm a freak huh?"

"No. It's not that," I said. "It's just…"

I looked down at him. Honestly I liked what he was doing. At the time, it didn't seem to bother me. I didn't expect it to go like this, and now I didn't really feel like talking about what I wanted to talk about with him. There wasn't really that much between us. Besides, what would Tiffany think if I blew her off to be with a guy? Nathan looked like a guy about to lose something dear to him, and this look opened up a gateway for me to talk about what I wanted to talk about.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," I said. "About different things."

"Oh…" Nathan said. "Care to share?"

"I just feel there's all these expectations for me," I said. "And I can't be everything for everyone."

"What is it you think is expected from you?" Nathan asked.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked.

"No," Nathan said. "Well… sort of. I mean I've been keeping in touch with this girl I dated back in Pittsburgh."

"What's she like?"

"Kind of tall," Nathan said. "Just a bit shorter than me. Black hair, about shoulder length." He glanced down at my legs. "She's got a pretty face. Pretty nice body."

"Do you ever think…" I glanced around the park for a moment. "Do you ever think about me? You know… in that way?"

"As a girlfriend?" Nathan asked. His hands stopped moving on my leg.

I looked down at him. "As anything more than this."

"I hope I haven't given you the wrong idea," Nathan said. "I like you."

"But?"

"Well you're my friend's sister," he said. "Plus you're a little young…"

"We're only two years apart," I said. "You have to give me a better reason than that."

"Look…" Nathan moved his hand down my leg. "Maybe if you were a bit older…" He stopped when he could tell that excuse wouldn't fly with me. "I gotta be honest. Right now it's just not a good time. You have a girlfriend. You still have some things to deal with. I don't think either one of us is ready." His fingers started grazing my leg and foot again. "I'd just like it to stay like this for awhile."

"Like this?" I asked. "Does that include you drooling over feet?"

"Well they are cute feet," Nathan said with a smile.

"You are so biased," I said, amidst a laugh. "So…" I looked at Nathan with all the sincerity in the world. "Where does this leave us?"

"Good friends?" Nathan asked.

"I'd like that," I said.

"And maybe every once in awhile I could give your feet a massage after a long day in heels?"

I chuckled at his remark. "Deal!"

He took my hand and shook it like we had made a business arrangement. Then I withdrew my foot from his hands. After removing myself from the picnic table, I stepped away into the sunlight. I turned back to smile at Nathan, but I figured he would like a little time to collect himself. So I strolled off to watch my brother play for a little while. Eventually Nathan came over, and we got Justin away from the game. Then we all walked back home together.

About two weeks later, on a Thursday in the middle of August, I sat in Doctor Dinesh's office. We were in his actual office, sitting in two rigid chairs across from a large wooden desk. A name plate with "Dr. Rajan Dinesh" sat proudly near the front of the desk, next to the large monitor of his computer. I had discovered a small yellow egg, which when tipped would always rock back to stand upright. Later I discovered it was a paperweight I continued to play with.

After ten or fifteen minutes passed, Rajan came through the door. "How are we today Bailey?" He shook my hand, and then Tom's hand. "Mister Walker?"

"Good," Tom said.

"A little nervous," I admitted.

"I'm sure there has been a lot of anxiety over the past few weeks," Rajan said. "Has anything changed since I saw you last?" Rajan looked directly at me.

"No," I said. "Everything's the same."

"Good," Rajan said. "I have the results from the lab on your blood work." He started to type away at his computer. "Then I'd like to discuss briefly the questionnaires you dropped off earlier this week."

"Okay," I said. "Some of the questions were hard to understand."

"Yes," Rajan said. "I apologize, but they're written more to get you thinking rather than simply answering yes or no." He smiled at me. "And multiple choice would be cheating."

"Well I hope we're ready to take whatever news you have," Tom said.

Rajan gave him a blank look. "Yes," he said. "Perhaps I should just get right into it?"

"That would be best," I said.

"Bailey…" Rajan swiveled in his chair to face me. "You do happen to have a case of hypogonadism, the condition I discussed with you earlier." He slid a piece of paper across the desk, with numbers on it my stepfather didn't even understand, let alone me. "The average levels of testosterone in the male body range from two-hundred and fifty nanograms per deciliter, to eight-hundred and fifty." He pointed to a location on the chart. "Your testosterone levels tested slightly below one-hundred and twenty."

Tom looked puzzled beside me. "So it's been an internal thing all along?"

"It's always internal Mister Walker," Rajan said. "Whether someone is born with a deficiency, has different genes, or if it is a mental condition."

"I just thought he liked putting on girls' clothing," Tom said. He leaned back in his chair in disbelief. "At one point I thought it was even erotic in nature."

"According to the questionnaires," Rajan said to Tom. "That's partly true, and we can prescribe something to curb those desires. We can discuss it later." Rajan looked back at me. "For now, I need to let Bailey know that this is treatable with testosterone replacement therapy, or if we go the other route, I can prescribe something to lower your testosterone even further."

"What will that do?" I asked.

"Testosterone replacement therapy?" Rajan asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Like I mentioned the last time you were here," Rajan said. "It will boost your overall testosterone levels, and jump start your puberty. I'm afraid without it, you might not start puberty until your late teens." He sat back in his chair. "Either way you run the risk of having a late puberty or complications with it."

"Well I don't want that!" I said.

"Most boys and girls your age don't," Rajan said.

"So this can go either way?" Tom asked.

Rajan nodded. "I can start the treatment today," he said. "However, since you're not Bailey's legal guardian, I would need approval from the mother."

"I can call and talk to her," Tom said.

"And there are some risks and some side effects we need to go over," Rajan said.

"How about you two discuss that, while I call Susan?" Tom asked, mostly to me.

I nodded, petrified I would again be left to make the adult decision. Tom stood up and stepped out of the room. I could hear him start to talk on his cell phone. Meanwhile, Rajan pulled out a folder with my name on it. He opened it up and took out a few pieces of paper. One had the words "Treatment Options" on the top, and another said "Side Effects and Risks of HRT" at the top. He slid them both to the edge of his desk for me to see.

"This is a big decision," Rajan said. "I know you're young, and probably don't understand all of this, but I need you to trust yourself with making the right decision." He pointed first at the treatment options page. "What we would do, if you decide to go through with it, is administer a series of shots. This can be done once a month, or twice a month. Again, your choice."

"I'd probably go with once a month to get them over with," I said.

"Well…" Rajan gave me a serious look. "There are patches that can be applied as well. That's entirely up to you. However, let me tell you some of the risks involved." He slid the other paper over. "There is a small chance the treatment might not work. Due to other unforeseen factors, your body may attack the new testosterone in your body. We'll be monitoring you for the first six months to see."

Rajan went on to explain risk after risk of having hormone replacement therapy. He mentioned things like prostate problems, infertility, sleep apnea and problems with my skin. I sat and listened to each risk he sounded off, and the ones he thought I didn't understand, he explained better. It seemed kind of funny to me that my condition had been deemed "easily cured" and supposedly not a big deal, but he made it sound like it could kill me at some point.

When he started explaining what things would possibly be fixed with the treatment, I perked up a bit. He mentioned muscle mass, which I sorely lacked. I even got teased about my girly physique. If I was going to be a guy, I wanted to look like one. After listing off several more beneficial things, he cited possible side effects. These included possible weight gain, swelling or soreness in the breast area, problems sleeping and loss of appetite.

"There is something else I would like to discuss," Rajan said. "The questions you filled out formed a bit of a psychological profile." He slid another piece of paper in front of me. "Though you didn't know it, the questionnaire actually tested some things as well. You tested right down the line between girl and boy. Though on average you leaned toward the girl side of the spectrum."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means you have a decision to make," Rajan said, "and not much time to make it." He gestured toward the door. "Your stepfather will be in here in a few moments with the okay from your empathetically unstable mother." He leaned forward a bit. "I guarantee both of them will want you to go along with becoming their little boy again." He sat back in his chair. "What I need to know right now, is if you want to do that, or if you want to go the other route."

"You mean I can choose to be a girl?" I asked.

"Of course," Rajan said. "It's your life. There are risks and side effects the other way, but you might be happier in the long run."

"I have to decide now?" I asked, my head swimming.

"You have from now," Rajan said, "to when I stick you with that needle. You don't have to tell me in front of your stepfather, but I need to know before we start treatment."

"Well…" Tom burst back into the room. "Your mother gave the go ahead. She said she'll even sign off on it, if that's what it takes."

"No need for that Mister Walker," Rajan said. "I just need Bailey's decision."

They both stood and stared at me. Never before had I felt so much pressure. On one hand, there was pressure to do the right thing. I knew I was a boy. I couldn't deny it. All summer I had been pretending. The right thing would be to take the testosterone and go on to live my life as a healthy and active male. On the other hand…

"I just want to get on with my life," I said, looking at Rajan. "Even if it means being a boy… I want to move on… girl or boy."

Rajan looked at me for a moment, as if weighing my decision. "Then I'd say you made your choice," he said with a nod. "We'll work to that goal." He looked at Tom. "From here on out, I need you to let Bailey choose freely what to do. This will be a confusing time, and you'll need to show your support."

"I understand," Tom said, looking completely confused about the situation.

"I don't know if you do," Rajan said. "There will be times when Bailey will want to revert back to women's clothing, at times only to hold onto something. This might be a common occurrence and more frequent until Bailey starts to feel more comfortable with the changes going on inside." He stood from his desk. "There is also a slight chance the testosterone might not be accepted by Bailey's body, and in that case the body will make the decision over what we've decided here today."

"How long will it be until we know?" Tom asked.

"A few months," Rajan said. "Maybe even up to a year or more. We'll just have to keep monitoring the effects of the testosterone." Rajan looked at me. "With time and a bit of luck, Bailey may start choosing more and more paths leading to manhood." He looked back at Tom. "If the body chooses differently, you'll just have to learn to accept that. Until then, don't try to force it either way."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Tom said, looking at me.

Only two major events happened the following week. The first major thing happened to be Justin passing his drivers' test and getting his license, although his actual one wouldn't arrive for a month or two. The second thing happened to be Tiffany calling me and wanting to know if I wanted to go out to a "farewell to the summer" night with the other girls. At first I didn't want to go, but she convinced me it would be fun.

Tiffany also said it might be the last time of the summer I got to be me. I thought about what this meant the whole rest of the week. What did it mean to be me? Did I somehow convince myself I was supposed to be something else? The thing that really convinced me to go though, was Tiffany telling me that Megan was going to be there. I hadn't gotten a chance to call her and really talk about things. There was a huge part of me that wanted to know more about her. Like, for instance, how did she deal with all of this?

So there I stood, waiting for my brother to drag himself out of his room to take me. Through a clever bit of scheming, I had convinced him to go to the party with me. This wasn't easy, as the party happened to be at a roller rink, and Justin had outgrown roller skating when he was my age. I managed to win him over with one single selling point. Kate would be there.

The only thing that made me nervous about the entire night, was the slight chance I could run into other kids I knew from school. It was Friday night, and the roller rink happened to be a popular place to go for kids my age. With inline skates starting to hit big, the roller rink saw fewer and fewer crowds. Yet it was one of those silly things we just enjoyed.

Tiffany and Kate had this fun idea to dress in odd and bright colors. We all wanted to look crazy when they switched over to the new black lights they put in a year or so back. So I had on a pair of white leggings, which came down to about mid-calf. They had a cute pattern of flowers decorated into the two inch wide lace at the bottom of the legs. With them I wore the brightest pink skirt I had, which happened to fall in tiers slightly past mid-thigh. I completed the look with a black shirt, the front filled with white outlines of hearts, a pair of ankle socks and my white mule sneakers.

Justin had actually helped with the outfit. He told me white shows up better than anything in black light, and suggested something bright pink to throw it off. I honestly knew this, but it was nice to have him onboard for the night. He even went along with it, and put on black and white shorts with a white Nike t-shirt. It was nice to have my brother back. For a long time I thought Tom would continue to push him away from me.

After the usual safety lecture from mom, we were on our way. We met Kate and Tiffany in the parking lot, and I had to say I was shocked by both of their outfits. Tiffany had on about the opposite of me. She wore a black skirt, with bright pink leggings, only her leggings went down to her ankles. Here they met pink socks and plain white tennis shoes. Then she topped it all off with a white cap-sleeved t-shirt that had "LOVE" written across the front in bright pink letters.

Kate looked even more ridiculous. She didn't know Justin would be coming, and seemed embarrassed she got into the spirit of things too much. Her perfect legs were encased in neon blue tights that stretched up to her black tiered miniskirt. She wore a nearly see-through white cami top over another neon pink cami top. It looked like she stepped out of the eighties, but still looked good.

"Hey Kate," Justin said.

"Hi Justin," Kate said, trying to hide herself somehow in the evening sun. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Bailey convinced me," Justin said. "She's quite the negotiator."

Kate waved me toward her. "I'm sure me being here had nothing to do with it, right?" She smiled at Justin.

"It's a bonus," Justin said. "Cute outfit."

"Thanks…" Kate blushed uncontrollably, and shied away from the embarrassment.

I stepped over to Kate, who reached back into the car for something. When she came back out she had a pink wristband with a Nike swoosh on it. Kate coaxed me to hold out my right wrist. Then she slipped it on over my hand. She caught my hand before I pulled it away, and held my nails up in the sun light.

"Wow," Kate said. "Melanie told me you had them done, but I had to see."

"Melanie was nice," I said. "I'm glad I got to meet her."

"Well she'll be here tonight," Kate said.

"Really?" I asked.

"You've been taking good care of them," Kate said. "Not a lot of rough play." She let my hand go. "By the way, I love love love your hair." She reached up and played with the bangs. "You ever think about dyeing it darker?"

"No…" I said.

"Would look cute in an auburn," Kate said.

"It'll probably be back to normal by Monday," I said.

"Too bad…" Kate said.

"Maybe I should let you girls catch up," Justin said.

"No, no," Kate said. "I'm done." She looked at Justin. "Though you might feel kind of left out tonight. Unless Melanie brings Steve."

"That's okay," Justin said. "I can just bug you."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Kate asked, leaning against her car.

I turned to Tiffany, who was holding up her right wrist. The matching pink wristband showed in the sunlight, proudly displaying the Nike swoosh. She smiled. I smiled back. Then she gave me one of those "wait a minute" gestures, before taking off some of her brightly colored plastic cord wristbands, and handing them to me. I happily put them on my left wrist.

"We're gonna go on in," Tiffany said to Kate.

"Okay," Kate said. "Stay out of trouble. I'll be in in a few." She looked around the parking lot. "I'm gonna wait for Melanie."

"Need some company?" Justin asked.

"Actually…" Kate looked back at Justin. "I would like to talk to you about something."

Tiffany pulled me away. I'm not sure what was going on between Justin and Kate, but I thought she didn't like my brother. Maybe I was wrong. As we got closer to the door of the roller rink, a white Ford Tempo pulled into a spot up ahead. Four girls poured from the car, all dressed in outrageous outfits.

"I think I'm going to kill you for this outfit idea," Rebecca shouted to Kate across the parking lot. "I look ridiculous."

"Love ya," Kate shouted back mockingly.

Rebecca was right though. They all looked funny. Rebecca, herself, had on black tights with peace symbols all over, which seemed to slim her swimmers' legs. She wore them underneath pink knit shorts. Up top she had on a white t-shirt with a yellow jersey tank top over it. The tank top looked like something you'd wear in gym to indicate which team you were on.

Rebecca wasn't the silliest looking person though. Her little sister, Tracy, looked equally ridiculous. She had on a long sleeve white shirt, with a neon pink cami top over it. Looking down I saw she had on white tights under short pink shorts. Her silliness factor didn't hold a candle to Danielle though.

Danielle, with her wire like frame, stepped out of the car wearing a neon pink romper. To this day I swore she had on a full body suit underneath. She was covered from wrist to toe in the same pale blue material. I almost burst out laughing at their outfits. Then I remembered I had on something silly too. The thing that got me with Danielle though, was that she had pink streamers tied into her hair.

Vanessa, the last to exit the car, put them all to shame. She would've looked good in a potato sack. Vanessa put one of her beautiful legs out the door, and then the other. They were both enveloped by tights of a delicate ballerina pink color. Her shapely bottom filled out a pair of short dark jean shorts, while her nearly fully developed upper body was hugged by a bright pink cami top. She smiled when she saw me.

"Looking cute as ever Bailey," Vanessa said.

Tiffany seemed a little irritated at Vanessa's comment. She wrapped her arms around my right arm. I'm sure it was a show of dominance for Vanessa's benefit. Vanessa simply smiled at Tiffany, as if to say Tiffany couldn't even compete. I knew Tiffany and Vanessa weren't very close friends, but I could smell a catfight brewing.

Danielle turned Vanessa's attention away, and pulled her into the building. After Rebecca got the word from Kate to go on in without her, she walked to the door with Tracy. This left Tiffany and I alone for a brief moment. We watched another car, a red Cavalier, pull in near Kate's car. I didn't recognize the person driving, but there were two people in the back.

Tiffany let out an anguished sigh beside me. "What is her problem anyway?"

"Who?" I asked.

"Vanessa," Tiffany said. "She has everything, but has to take more."

"What is she taking?"

"She's trying to get her hooks into you for some reason," Tiffany said. "I mean, I know the reason." She looked me up and down. "You're so freakin' cute!" She looked up at the sky. "But she knows we're together…"

"Look…" I said, putting my hand up on her cheek to get her to face me. "She's not going to take me." I caressed her cheek as I looked into her pretty hazel eyes. "I'm yours."

"Well…" Tiffany said. "She's still gonna try. She's all flirty and 'oh my god, Bailey's so cute' every time she's around me."

"Well I can't not be cute," I said, smiling. "Just like you can't not be pretty." I waited for her to smile. "So let her try flirting." I leaned forward and gave her a peck on the forehead. "She'll just be wasting her time."

Tiffany pulled me close. In no time flat she had her lips pressed against mine. We held each other and kissed for the longest time. I thought if we kept going, it would turn into a make out session right there in the parking lot. She missed me, I could tell. I had missed her as well, and wished I could've seen her more the past month.

"Bailey!" Justin said. His voice came as a near shout, causing me to break the kiss and look back at him.

"Not here…" Kate said, in a scolding tone. Her eyes were like lasers trained on Tiffany. "We talked about this."

"You wouldn't believe what I have to break up," the driver of the Cavalier said, as she stepped out of the car. "These two can't keep their hands off each other."

"That's Lynne," Tiffany said. "Tawny's older sister."

Tiffany's insight clearly explained why Lynne had on what looked like a pink bathing suit top over a white t-shirt. Lynne let Tawny out of the backseat. When she closed the door, I could see the rest of her outfit. Her white shirt barely came into contact with her white pleated skirt. Under the skirt she had on neon pink leggings which came down past her knees. They almost looked like spandex.

"She's kind of the slutty one of the group," Tiffany said in a whisper behind me. "But don't pass that on."

"I won't," I said, glancing back at her. "Is that Megan with them?"

"Yeah," Tiffany said. She waited for a moment to talk after I turned back. "You like Megan or something?"

"I'd just like to talk to her." I turned to face Tiffany. "To ask her about… you know…"

"Oh…" Tiffany said. "She's kind of guarded about it all." She gestured for me to look back at the car. "And shy too. So watch what you say about it."

I saw Tawny waving at me, so I waved back. Tawny didn't really do much for an outfit. She had on light pink cargo Capri pants, with a black t-shirt, and black Converse sneakers. I was actually surprised she wore pink to begin with, as her shirt had a white skull and crossbones on the front. Maybe Megan got her to wear them. Though I don't think Megan had much influence on other people.

Megan stepped out of the car. She pushed up close to Tawny. Tawny held the door for her, and closed it after Megan was out. Again, she was the only girl so far to wear a dress. I started to wonder if she always wore dresses. Maybe it was her preference? At any rate, she looked good in her hot pink summer dress. Obviously the least outlandish of the group, she complimented the dress simply with black leggings, and black ballet flats. I could tell she never wanted to stand out in a crowd.

"Who we waiting on?" Lynne said.

"Melanie," Kate said. "The others are inside."

"This your new boyfriend?" Lynne asked, looking at Justin.

Kate looked embarrassed again. "We're just…"

"I'm Bailey's brother," Justin said. "I drove her here."

"Who's Bailey?" Lynne asked.

I raised my hand.

Lynne looked over at me. "Oh…" She gave a half laugh, as she flipped her raven black hair off her shoulder. "The other part of the lesbian couple over there."

"She's very blunt," Tiffany said in my ear.

"I noticed," I said.

"You so need to get past Mike." Lynne looked back at Justin. "If you don't want him, I'll take him. He's cute."

"Thanks," Justin said.

"Rebecca's inside," Kate blurted out. "Think she wanted to talk to you."

"I get it," Lynne said. "You two were talking. I'll leave you alone."

Tawny walked toward Tiffany and I. She rolled her eyes, clearly directed at Lynne. I smiled at her sentiments toward her own sister. Megan gave me a shy smile. She held up her empty left hand in a noncommittal wave. Her other hand was wrapped tightly around a pair of socks. I returned her wave and her smile.

"Hi Bailey," Megan said.

"Hey," I said.

"Nice to see you again Meg," Tiffany said, reaching out to touch Megan's upper arm.

"You too," Megan said.

Tawny stopped suddenly. For a moment Megan didn't know what to do. She quickly scooted back next to Tawny, and looked down for a moment. The girl obviously lacked self-confidence, and had several mental ticks to make up for her mistakes. I wasn't the prime example of self-confidence, but I wasn't shy to the point of hiding myself in a shell either. Megan had so much to give, if she'd only put herself out there a little bit.

"Ooh," Lynne said, walking between the four of us. "Lesbian meeting." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'll just go inside."

"That would be delightful," Tawny said, in a mocking tone.

"You better watch yourself," Lynne said to her sister. "Or you and your girlfriend will be walking home." She waited to see if Tawny would make a remark. Then she turned to go inside, leaving us in peace.

"I was going to call you," I said to Megan. "I just got a little busy."

"It's okay," Megan said.

"If you two wanna talk," Tiffany said. "Tawny and I can go on in."

Megan looked at Tawny like her leaving would be the end of the world. I knew this would never work in this kind of environment. Parking lots were not the prime candidate for starting private conversations. Unless of course you count shady business deals in the twilight hours behind warehouses. Not to mention I had to find some way for Megan to feel safe enough to talk.

"Probably not the best place to talk about what I want to talk about," I said.

"Oh…" Tiffany grew ever so silent.

"You look pretty though Meg," I said.

Megan's face brightened up a bit. "Thanks… You look pretty too."

"And you look pretty," Tawny said to Tiffany.

"And you," Tiffany said to Tawny.

They then proceeded to give each other phony air kisses. Megan looked a little embarrassed. She moved her head down a bit toward her shoulder. I just stood there and shook my head.

"Okay…" I said. "A little awkward."

"Let's be honest," Tiffany said. "We all look good." She put emphasis on the word good.

"Are you kidding me?" Tawny asked. "We all look like we came from a time capsule."

The four of us laughed at Tawny's remark. Even Megan livened up a bit in the lighter mood. I suddenly had the urge to make it my goal that night to get her to break loose a little bit. It would take a lot of effort, but maybe I could get Tiffany and Tawny involved. They knew more about her than I did. I just wanted to see her have fun.

"Finally!" Kate said, from across the parking lot.

She waved toward a flashy red Mustang pulling into the parking lot. When they got closer I could tell Melanie was sitting in the passenger seat. I guess the guy driving was her boyfriend. They pulled into a somewhat distant parking spot away from the rest of the cars. Then the engine stopped, and the driver side door swung open.

Out of the car stepped who I could only guess was Steve. I had to admit, Melanie had done pretty well for herself. Though he was surprisingly shorter than I would have thought, he had the hardest body of any teenage boy I'd seen. His blonde hair, a bit shaggy, came down to the bottom of his ears. He showed as much interest in his wardrobe as my brother had, dawning a pair of white shorts with black stripes down the sides, and a white tank top. Justin found a particular interest in something else.

"Nice car!" Justin said, walking over to Steve.

"Thanks," Steve said. "I just got it a few months ago."

"You bought it?" Justin asked.

"Present for my birthday," Steve said. "Wanna see what's under the hood?"

"Sure!" Justin said, walking around to the front.

The passenger door of Steve's Mustang swung open. I couldn't help, but take an interest in who would be stepping out. From out of the car swung first one leg and then the other, both disappearing into a pair of black three inch heels. Melanie eased herself out of the vehicle. Her fit, slender legs stretched up to a flippy black skirt. She appeared to have on a neon pink body suit beneath a black, cropped cami top.

I had to admit. Melanie looked absolutely gorgeous despite what she had on. She shut the door on the passenger side, as Kate rushed over to greet her. They hugged, and then they both looked over at me. Kate pointed at me, and caused Melanie to wave. I returned her wave. Then I felt a tug on my arm. I turned to face Tiffany.

"We're gonna go in now," Tiffany said. "You wanna stay out here?"

"No," I said. "I'll go in too."

As we drew closer to the door of the roller rink, a familiar face came at us in the other direction. I recognized the person immediately. It was Kevin Patrick, one of my friends from school. He stepped through the first set of glass doors on the inside. When he stepped through the outside doors, he immediately recognized one of us. I cringed as he froze in his tracks.

"Tiffany?" Kevin asked.

"Oh, hey Kevin," Tiffany said. With her arm still wrapped around mine, she jerked me back out of the door to stand with her. "How've you been?"

Tawny and Megan slipped on through like they didn't know us. Kevin glanced at me, and smiled. I thought for sure he would recognize me. All he had to do was look at me a little longer, and put me and Tiffany together. He would surely know. Kevin turned his attention back to Tiffany.

"Okay," Kevin said. "Not too excited about starting school again Monday."

"I'm actually excited to get back," Tiffany said. "New experiences and all."

"Most girls I talk to are excited," Kevin said. "Though I haven't found a single male friend of mine ready to go back." He glanced inside and then back at Tiffany. "Speaking of which… you seen Zach around? Are you two still together?"

"No…" Tiffany said. "Unfortunately I'm no longer with Zach."

"That's too bad," Kevin said. "You two made a cute couple." He ran his hand through his short mouse brown hair. "I haven't seen him since summer started. Hope he's okay."

"You haven't called to talk to him?" Tiffany asked.

"I've been away at camp," Kevin said. "Just got back last week."

"Oh…" Tiffany said. "I see. I can tell him to call you if I see him."

"No," Kevin said. "It's okay. I never really liked him that much anyway." He dropped his hand to straighten out his light gray t-shirt. "I don't suppose…" He started to fidget. "You don't have a boyfriend now do you?"

"Not exactly," Tiffany said. "Why?"

"Well…" Kevin smiled nervously at me, and then looked at Tiffany. "I was wondering if you'd wanna do something with me some time?"

"You mean go out?" Tiffany asked.

I was about to punch Kevin. Here he was hitting on my girlfriend right in front of me, and insulted me right to my face; sort of. Tiffany, on the other hand, seemed to be leading him on with her half truths. Then I realized I couldn't do a thing about the situation. If I reacted to all of this, he would know something was up. Then he would find out I was Zach, or used to be. I just had to sit here and take it.

"You can bring your friend," Kevin said, glancing at me. "We could double or do a group thing."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Tiffany said. "Where are my manners?" She gestured toward me. "This is Bailey." Then she turned back to Kevin. "Bailey this is Kevin."

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking Kevin's hand.

"Same here," Kevin said. His attention went back instantly to Tiffany, not even recognizing me or my voice. "So can I call you?"

"Sure," Tiffany said. "Let me just go inside and get a pen."

"Okay," Kevin said.

He followed us back into the roller rink. Inside the music roared with the latest candy pop songs. There were people talking and other people shouting over the people talking. On the rink came the roar and clacking of tens of people circling around the hardwood floor on their skates. Tracy and Vanessa were up talking with Danielle in the food court. They gave me a weird look when they saw Tiffany writing out her number on Kevin's hand.

I turned away from their stares, feeling a bit humiliated. As I worked my way over to the counter to pay, Tiffany caught up with me. She seemed happy about the whole situation. I don't know why she did, but I felt pretty low about it. We paid the fee to use the facilities, and then walked together to check out some roller skates.

"Can you believe that?" Tiffany asked, close to my ear.

"That my friend just asked you out?" I asked back. "I'm sorry… ex friend."

"Don't you know what that means?" Tiffany asked.

"That I can't trust Kevin?"

"No!" Tiffany said. "Well… yeah that too." She pushed my shoulder playfully. "But it means he didn't recognize you as well… you!"

"Huh?"

"He thought you were…" Tiffany leaned closer to whisper in my ear. "A girl."

"Oh…" I said, pulling back a bit. "I never thought about that." I looked at her gleeful expression. "I guess that's a good thing." In my mind, Kevin was still a jerk.

"It's a really good thing!" Tiffany said. She leaned into me. "It means we can get away with it for awhile."

"How long do you expect this to go on?" I asked. "I can't do it forever."

"Until you get tired of it," Tiffany said. "For as long as you're happy."

Truth be told I wasn't extremely happy. My girlfriend just got asked on a date by another boy, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. Tiffany checked out a pair of size five skates. She paid for them herself, and then moved down the counter a bit to make room for me. I stepped up to the counter. The young man leaned down so he could hear me.

"Size five," I said, sliding my money over the counter.

"Why don't you two just share?" the young man joked.

"I don't think that would work," I said.

His smirk dropped and he shrugged as he turned to get another pair of roller skates. To my surprise they weren't like the ugly brown ones Tiffany got. They were white with neon pink wheels and stoppers. He took my money, and I took the skates. It was kind of ironic they went with my outfit, but as I looked over his shoulder, I realized they were out of that size now.

I found out why a little bit later. Some of us had a lot more in common than being friends with Tracy. Five out of the seven of us wore the same size shoe. Danielle, Tawny and Vanessa all were skating around with a little number five in a circle on the back of their skates. I said something about it in front of Danielle, Vanessa and Tiffany, and we joked about sharing shoes.

I noticed Megan sitting on a bench by herself. Tawny had already put her skates on and was drifting along the rink with her sister Lynne. Now was my chance to maybe talk to her a bit. I gave Tiffany the "be right back" gesture, and strolled over to sit next to Megan. She shifted a bit uncomfortably when I sat down, but after awhile she went back to slipping her socks over her feet.

"Pretty crowded in here huh?" I asked.

"Yes," Megan said. "Makes me a bit nervous."

"Don't like crowds?"

Megan shook her head.

"Me neither," I said. "Especially when I'm out…" I leaned closer to her. "As a girl."

Megan turned and looked at me directly. "You're lucky," she said. "You have the look and the self-confidence to go with it."

"Me?" I shook my head. "You're the one that gets to do this every day. Even starting school next week as a girl." I sat back a bit. "That takes a lot more guts than I could ever have."

"I guess it's easier when you don't stand out," Megan said.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I pushed my sneakers off.

"I mean…" Megan turned to look at the crowd of people on the rink. "People won't remember Brice Seong, the dorky kid from elementary school." She paused to wave at Tawny, who skated by with a big smile on her face. "I'll just be a dorky girl named Megan. With any luck they won't connect my last name at all."

"Why not use it as an opportunity to be someone completely different?" I asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Like be the complete opposite of what you used to be," I said. "Be more outgoing and don't just try to blend in."

"I don't know if that's me," Megan said. "I wouldn't even know where to start." She leaned over to put her roller skates on.

"You can start with losing that attitude about yourself," I said. "Be a little more outspoken."

Megan looked up at me as she tied the laces on her right skate. "My parents don't like outspoken people." She turned her focus back at her feet. "They think kids should be seen and not heard."

"My parents are the same way," I said. "Mostly it's Tom, my stepfather." I slipped my left foot into the left roller skate. "I don't mean in front of your parents though."

"What do you mean then?" Megan asked, switching over to tie up her left roller skate.

"Well like when you're out with us," I said. "Speak your mind in the group, or be the first to step up in line at the counter." I finished tying the roller skate, and sat up to look at Megan. "Just put yourself out there a bit."

"Like Tawny's sister?" Megan sat up and smiled at me.

"Well…" I found Lynne in the crowd. "Not that out there." I looked back at Megan. "I just think you have a lot to offer."

"Really?" Megan asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean… you're cute. You make one pretty girl. I bet boys will be lining up to talk to you at school next week. That is if you let them actually see you."

"I don't know if I'm quite ready for that," Megan said.

"Oh, I forgot you're with Tawny," I said. "You probably don't even like boys."

"No…" Megan said. "I do." She looked a little embarrassed by the topic. "I mean, I like both. It's just… I don't think…"

"You don't want to go there yet?" I asked.

"Yeah…"

"I get it," I said. "I have questions about it too."

"You don't seem like you'd have much trouble at all landing a boy," Megan said.

"I'm not sure what to do with one if I did," I said, giving her a half smile.

"You know it's funny," Megan said. She leaned closer to me. "This is the longest conversation I've had with a boy who isn't related to me." She smiled at me. "I'm just afraid it doesn't count, because you make a prettier girl."

"Well thanks," I said. "It counts though." I gestured to my attire. "All of this is going in the back of the closet next week."

"That's too bad," Megan said. "Tawny won't get her wish." She smiled at me. "You're still going to dress though aren't you?"

"Maybe…" I said. "I think I'm going to take a break from it, to see how I feel about it."

"Sounds reasonable," Megan said. She held up a finger at Tawny, who happened to be across the rink waving at Megan to get out there. "Could I make one suggestion." Megan turned to give me a serious look. "Whatever you decide to do… make sure it's for yourself."

I watched Megan hop up from the bench. After a few awkward steps on the carpet she was out on the wooden floor of the rink. Though people had said it to me, to make the decision for myself, this was the first time I actually heard it. Maybe I paid more attention to it because it came from Megan, but it made me reevaluate all of my decisions up to that point.

I stooped down to tie my other roller skate. Meanwhile, Tiffany had caught up with me, and slid into me as she sat on the bench. I pushed back at her playfully. When I finished tying my skate I sat up to see her smiling at me. It was one of those weird smiles where you knew something was up, but only they knew what it happened to be.

"So get this," Tiffany said. "I was just talking to Rachel Hamilton, the spoiled rich girl who was in our class last year. You know who I'm talking about right?"

"Right," I said.

"Well anyway," Tiffany said. "She just got a whole new wardrobe for the school year, because she kind of outgrew it, if you know what I mean." She made huge mock boobs with her hands in front of her chest. "Turns out she's giving hers away to people she likes."

"So…"

"So we thought about what you said with sharing our shoes earlier, and Danielle got us invited over to her house next weekend to let us all go through her old stuff," Tiffany said. "Since we're all around the same size and all. Won't that be fun?"

"I thought you hated her clothes," I said. "For that matter, I thought you hated her."

Tiffany's smile disappeared. "I meant for you." She paused waiting for my reaction, but I gave her none. "She's got some pretty nice things you could have for yourself."

"Tiffany…" I glanced around. "I don't know how much longer I'll be doing this."

"Well at least consider it," Tiffany said. "You got a week to think about it."

"Okay," I said. "I'll think about it, but no promises."

"Good enough for me," Tiffany said.

Tiffany pushed away a bit, and started to exchange her shoes for roller skates. I looked around the place, and tried to spot people I knew. Tawny and Megan were happily skating near each other. Danielle, Tracy and Vanessa were over in the food court talking to a group of boys around our age. I recognized two of the boys, but none of them I knew well enough to hide from them.

The older kids were settling into routine as well. Lynne happened to be warming up a corner booth with some guy she had wrapped around her finger. Rebecca passed in a blur before me, chasing after some other girls she knew. Melanie walked around proudly hanging off of Steve's arm, while my brother desperately tried to get noticed by Kate. I was actually rooting for my brother to win her affection. After all, Kate was a great catch, and now she happened to be single.

Tiffany finished lacing up her roller skates. She slipped her hand into mine, and pulled me up from the bench. We awkwardly stepped in tiny little steps over the carpet, and tried not to fall flat on the hardwood floor. Then we squeezed into the crowd and slowly we got into rhythm, skating next to each other around the rink. Together we flew around the rink, our clothes shining in the odd lighting. I think it was the happiest moment of the night for both of us.

Meanwhile, I couldn't get my mind away from what Megan had said. With my bottom still a little sore from the shot I got a week before, I still wondered if I had made the right decision. After all, it was my life. How long could I go one way before it was too late to go the other? Did I make the right choice for me, or for everyone else? I looked for some kind of reassurance, and I found it right next to me.

Tiffany smiled, and gripped my hand tighter as we burned around the rink. Even if I didn't ever put on female attire again, she loved me, and I still had the best summer of my life that year. I learned a lot about myself and those around me. My new friends accepted me either way I went with my life, while my old friends I never bothered to call again. I could sleep at night knowing my family loved and supported me as a person, not as a gender.

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To Be Continued in Seasons of Bailey: Autumn...
 

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

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Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

"You are such a sissy," Jason said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?" I asked.

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

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

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

"We done?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

"You okay?" Tracy asked in a whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No Mister Jackson," Tracy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Which part?" I asked.

"About chain reactions," Mr. Jackson said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's all," he said.

"See you tomorrow Mister Jackson," I said.

"Have a good day Bailey."

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

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

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

"Come to what?" I asked.

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

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

"What about Tiffany?" I asked.

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

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

"This weekend still on?" Megan asked.

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

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

"Later," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

I sighed. "Nobody is avoiding anyone."

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

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

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

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

"You okay now?" Tracy asked me.

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

"What happened?" Tiffany asked.

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

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

"What?" Tracy asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"You still coming over today?" Tiffany asked.

"Huh?" I looked up at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's not that," I said.

"Then what is it?" Tiffany asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Who Megan?" Danielle asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're just friends," Danielle said.

"Is he single?" Tracy asked.

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

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

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

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

"Talk to Tony?" Tracy asked.

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

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

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

"With who?" Tracy asked.

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

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

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

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

"They are fun," Tiffany said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" I asked.

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

"I haven't noticed," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cool," Tracy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"See you in art," Tiffany said.

"See you," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have no idea," Tiffany said.

"What's it say?" I asked.

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

"Me?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"What should we do?" Tiffany asked.

"Let me see it," Vanessa said.

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

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

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

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

"And Kale," I said.

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

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

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

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

"You think?" Tiffany asked.

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

"What's the alternative?" I asked.

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

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

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

"If you say so…" Tawny said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?"

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

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

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

"I'm cute?" Jason asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Or maybe coming back…" Tiffany said.

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

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

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

"True," Tiffany said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," I said.

"Just okay?" Kate asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Think you could do that?" Kate asked.

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

"You thought that was sexy?" Kate asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They're really pretty," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who is this guy?" Melanie asked.

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

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

"Then tell us," Tiffany said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey Tiff?" Kate asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is he bullying you?" Kate asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh," I said.

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

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

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

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

"No!" I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dressed?" Kate asked.

I nodded.

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

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

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

"What can I do?" I asked.

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

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

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

"I wouldn't mind," I said.

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

"How?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just wait until high school," Kate said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to fit in," I said.

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

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

"So you like those too huh?"

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

"No?" Kate asked, feigning a pout.

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

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

"Sure," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Miss it?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well you look beautiful," I said.

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

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

"Probably right," Kate said.

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

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

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

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

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

"Bailey's here?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bailey is actually a boy," Tiffany said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Could I try it?" Kale asked.

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

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

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

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

"You think so?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Actually it's a little…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are such a girl," Tiffany said.

"What?"

"Look at the way you're standing."

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

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

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

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

"Can you blame me?"

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

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

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

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

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

"No," I said. "I mean… I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It'll work."

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?" I asked.

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

"Oh…" I said.

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

"Why the sad face?" Kate asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We could make her help," Melanie said.

"Sounds good to me," Kate said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You want a blanket?" Rebecca asked.

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

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

"So how's school?" Rebecca asked.

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

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

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

"I was the same way," Rebecca said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 2

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

"Could you stop doing that please?"

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

"Stop what?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

"What?" she asked.

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

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

"Is it about your brother?" I asked.

"No," Tracy said, a bit defensively.

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

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

"I just thought with what happened Tuesday…"

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

"Not like you caused it," Tracy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well what can I do?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were right," Tracy said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do actually," I said.

"Well spill it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason raised his right eyebrow. "Pretty sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not a word," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello?" I shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

"I got something for you," Tom said.

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

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

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

"Go see!" Tom said.

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

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

"A diary?" I asked.

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

"Thank you," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you kids even do there?"

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

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

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

"Kate?"

"Tiffany's older sister," I said.

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

"Justin likes too many girls," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were married before mom?" I asked.

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

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

"How's school Bailey?" Tom asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What time is it?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not funny," Tiffany said, sourly.

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

"Technically you did," Tiffany said.

"That's true," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lynne was there?"

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

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

"What if we're over thinking this?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

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

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

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

"But who?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think you already know," I said.

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

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

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

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

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

Tiffany shook her head. "We thought --"

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

"We're actually not," Tiffany said.

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

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

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

"Come on!" Tiffany said, nudging me with her elbow. "It'll be fun!"

I glanced at Tiffany, and then back to Jillian. She looked like she would break into tears if I said no to her. Apparently she had a bit riding on this as well. I would feel bad if she got shorted somehow by failing to get us to go along with it. Still… she did sort of blackmail us into doing what she wanted, and it felt wrong letting her get away with it. I glanced back at Tiffany one more time, and saw she really wanted to do it. Like always, I couldn't deny her, and we would both get free clothes out of the deal.

"Okay," I said. "I'm in too."

"Great!" Jillian said. I thought she would leave the floor in a short leap, but she simply rocked up and down on her toes, like some excitable anime character. "I'll take you both to the store, and you can meet with Casey."

Jillian seemed cheerful now, beneath the sincere expression on her face. She turned on the balls of her feet, and started to walk. We quickly followed after her. Even over the roar of the Friday night mall crowd, I could still hear the clicking of our heels upon the floor. As I glanced around in an attempt to foresee anyone we would need to avoid, I caught Tiffany staring at Jillian's legs. Tiffany noticed me noticing her, and leaned her head toward me.

"She's cute," Tiffany said, in a whisper. "Don't you think?"

"I guess so," I replied, looking at Jillian. "In a bubbly librarian way."

"Just look at those legs," Tiffany whispered, "and her butt. They're amazing."

I honestly didn't see why Tiffany was still with me. Once I had found out she liked girls, it kind of opened up this rift between us. She obviously liked my girly side more than my boyish side, and her self-proclaimed bisexuality was merely self-denial. I tried to be supportive, but I knew she would eventually get tired of me once I hit that male point-of-no-return. She simply found girls more attractive.

"You really think so?" I asked.

"You don't?" Tiffany asked.

"If that's what you like," I said, "I say go for it."

"No way!" Tiffany said in a still hushed tone. "She'd never…"

I smiled inwardly. That little hint of doubt, Tiffany had, was the only thing that kept us together, in my opinion. At least for the time being, her shyness about her sexuality kept her comfortable with me. She already had an outlet to explore with, so she never actively sought another. Eventually she would overcome it, and maybe want to look for other outlets. I knew in my heart the next outlet would most likely be an actual girl to replace me.

We continued to walk past a few benches, and a booth selling sunglasses. I finally took notice of my surroundings, and could smell the mixed scents of the candle store nearby. About thirty or forty feet away, a sign reading 'Tweens shone down in bright pink and blue neon letters. Even though the sign appeared to appeal to both sexes, I noticed the store carried mainly apparel for young girls. Only about one sixth of the store seemed to be comprised of male attire.

Jillian walked us through racks and tables of clothes. I must have picked out about ten items I wanted to try on, just from our short walk. Even their obscure and small selection of shoes caught my attention. Jillian walked us right up to the cashier counter. We were greeted by a mildly attractive young woman. I took notice of her nametag and instantly pegged her as Jillian's sister, Casey.

She didn't look much like her sister, except for the brunette color of her hair. Casey's hair, however, fell in tight curly tresses down to her shoulders. It framed her heart-shaped face nicely, and most of my attention came to rest on her bright blue eyes. They weren't as intense as Jillian's eyes, but they were quite unique in their shade. I noticed she shared the cupid's bow upper lip like her sister's, but they weren't as pouty.

"This is Tiffany and…" Jillian turned to me. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I never caught your name."

"It's Bailey," I said, extending my right hand toward Casey.

Casey reached out and gently took my hand. "I told you they were a couple of pretty ones," she said, to her sister. "Turn." Casey held my hand up as I did an impromptu turn for her. "Nice." She held out her other hand to get Tiffany to turn as well. "I think I could get you both into a nine or ten in junior sizes." She looked us both over again. "Maybe even an eight."

"I'll leave you two here," Jillian said to us. "I have to get back out there and hand coupons out."

Tiffany and I watched Jillian pick up a stack of coupons and a clipboard. Then she casually walked out of the store and vanished into the crowd outside. I noticed Tiffany had a bit of a longing look on her face when she turned back to face me. It hurt me a little bit for her to be looking after someone else. Casey's voice shattered my reflections on the subject.

"Did my sister give you all the details on this?"

"Not exactly," Tiffany said. "She mentioned modeling and keeping clothes."

"Well…" Casey said. "That's part of it."

Casey stepped around the counter, and I took notice of her apparel. She wore the apparel of a smart business woman, in the simplest of forms. A dark grey pencil skirt contrasted her subtly off-white long sleeved blouse. Her legs, from what I saw from her ankles to the bottoms of her knees, looked very nice in her sheer black hose. She completed the outfit with black three inch pumps, silver necklace and bracelet, and a two inch wide black belt, with a large silver buckle, over her blouse.

"Every second Friday of each month, we have a promotional," Casey said. "We choose a few random girls or boys around your age to model our clothes in the display windows, or go around the mall handing out coupons for five to ten dollars off towards a purchase here." She coaxed us to follow her as she walked through the store. "Instead of paying the girls or boys to model, the store lets them keep the outfits they model. In the case of handing out coupons, they get some of their own." She turned sharply to face us. "There are a few limits."

"What are they?" Tiffany asked.

"You can't keep coats, jackets, jewelry, or any other accessories," Casey said. "You're limited to what the store supplies for you to wear, which are mostly sales items." She turned to walk a bit more. "None of the promotional items can be exchanged for store credit, and you can't go over one hundred dollars each." She stopped and turned back to us. "If at any point in time you act up while promoting our products, the deal is void, and you get nothing."

"That all sounds reasonable," I said.

"We don't get to choose what to model in though?" Tiffany asked.

"Unfortunately, you don't," Casey said. "We found too many kids take advantage of that, so we limited it to sales items at the store's discretion." She smiled at us. "Don't worry though. I won't make you wear anything ridiculous."

"I'm up to it," Tiffany said. "Free clothes are free clothes."

"We still have to work for them," I said, nudging her arm. "I'll go along though."

"Are you two friends?" Casey asked, while turning to look through a rack of sales items.

"Best friends," Tiffany said, wrapping her arms around me in a friendly hug.

"Well that's good," Casey said, smiling. "You two should have fun with this then."

"Oh, I'm sure we will," I said.

"I think we'll stick to skirts for you," Casey said, looking me over. "Jeans, and maybe a dress later for Tiffany."

"Bailey loves skirts," Tiffany said, giving me a wink.

"You read my mind," I said, taking a brown leather mini skirt from Casey. "This is on sale?"

"I know," Casey said. "Shocking isn't it?" She gave me a smile. "Just because you have to settle for sales items, doesn't mean we're going to be cheapskates."

"I really like it," I said, feeling the leather.

"Hope it fits then," Casey said. "There's a changing area in the back." She looked down at me. "Keep your hose and undergarments on, and I'll bring the rest back to you."

"Okay," I said, starting to walk back to the changing room.

"Oh," Casey said. "What size shoe do you wear sweetie?"

I almost blurted out my male size, but Tiffany interrupted me. "She wears the same as me," Tiffany said. "Size four and a half."

"Very good," Casey said to herself. "So probably a five boot." She started rummaging through a sales rack. "You two are going to be into women's sizes soon enough."

I wandered off and soon found myself alone in a changing room. The skirt was actually pretty nice for a sales item. I hoped beyond hope that it fit, more so than Casey's casual response to me saying I liked it. Gracefully I sat and removed my shoes. I couldn't wait to see what else she picked out for me to wear. I stood and started to remove my skirt.

Normally I didn't like anyone else picking my clothes out. Tiffany was usually the only one I'd allow to do so, but she knew what I liked most of the time. My mom had picked clothes out for me countless times, but she usually hit about fifty percent on what I liked. Nathan went one for one the only time he picked something for me to wear. I guess he paid attention to me after all. It would be a new experience to have someone else pick outfits out for me.

As I finished pulling on the leather skirt, I found it came to a perfectly snug fit. The hem fell a little below mid-thigh, which was alright with me. I had worn skirts shorter than this before, so it didn't mean much. I'm sure my mother would disagree if I wore something like it out in public. Right when I started to take my sweater off, I heard a knock on the stall door.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Are you decent?" Casey asked.

"Oh," I said. "I am."

Casey waited for me to open the door, and she stepped into the doorway. She put a top on the hook, and set down a large box on the bench. Then she stood and admired the skirt. When she motioned for me to turn around, I did as she desired. I felt her tug a bit at the hem of the skirt, pulling it down another inch or so, before she had me turn back around.

"It's meant to be worn lower," Casey said. "Below the waist a bit." She stood up straight with her hands on her hips. "If you give me your clothes, I can put them in the back where they'll be safe."

"Oh," I said, a bit hesitantly. "No problem…"

I shook a bit, as I reached for the bottom of my sweater. After a short breath, and figuring it was just like undressing in front of Kate and Melanie, I pulled the sweater off over my head. As I brought it down, starting to fidget with the sleeves, I noticed Casey looking me over. She seemed to be admiring something, but I didn't know what until she spoke.

"Cute cami."

"Thanks," I said, noticeably blushing.

"Why don't you keep that on?" Casey asked, "and I'll go get you a different top." She took my sweater and skirt. "I think it'll look better." She waited for me to hand her my shoes. "Cute shoes too!"

"Thanks," I said, still blushing.

"I'll be right back."

With that, Casey was gone. I shut the door to the stall, and turned to the box on the bench. It was rather large, and I knew it had to be boots. Casey had even mentioned boots. I peeled the box top off and stared amorously at the contents. Therein sat a pair of knee high brown leather boots, nearly the same color as my skirt. They had a rounded toe and about a three inch stacked heel.

Before I could even act upon putting them on, Casey came back to my door and knocked. She didn't wait for an answer this time, and just opened the door. In one hand she had a pair of long white knit socks. While in her other hand she held a burgundy long sleeved top. I took notice of what the top had to offer, or rather what it lacked, as it was a crop top with only two buttons on the front to hold the plunging V neckline closed.

"Cute huh?" Casey asked.

I nodded as she hung the top up on the hook. She handed me the socks, and smiled as she exited the stall again. I waited for the door to close all the way, before I undid the miniscule packaging on the socks. Once I had them unwrapped and off of the little plastic hangers, I put them on one at a time. They came all the way up past my knees, and touched the hem of my skirt.

"What's the point of keeping the hose on with these things?" I muttered to myself.

The socks were wool, but felt soft, and though a bit warm, I still liked the bumpy texture of them. I admired them for a little while, before pulling my attention back to the boots. There honestly wasn't much that could keep me away from trying on new footwear. I loved pretty much anything to do with female shoes and boots. A satisfied smile spread across my face as I pulled the left boot from the box.

After a few minutes of fighting laces, I finally had the boots tied snugly around my lower legs. They covered my calves up to within a few inches of my knees. I took a moment to admire how soft the leather felt, and they appeared to be extremely comfortable. When I had put them on, I noticed they were a size five and a half, but they fit perfectly over the hose and socks. Maybe my feet were growing, if nothing else seemed to be at the time.

"Everything okay in there?" Casey said, knocking gently on the door.

"Perfect," I said, reaching for the top.

I reached for the handle of the door, and it swung open to two sets of peering eyes. One set belonged to Casey, who held her hand over a smile as she saw my legs. As I fiddled around to get the top on, Casey stooped down and adjusted my socks. She pushed them down to where they appeared to be scrunched up around my knees. Then she stood up and nodded in satisfaction.

"I believe that's how they're wearing them on the east coast," Casey said.

By then my attention had already shifted to the other pair of eyes looking at me. They were the pretty hazel eyes of Tiffany. She looked extremely sexy in her outfit. Even at that age I knew what sex appeal was, and my girlfriend displayed it proudly. Tiffany wore a pair of straight cut jeans, which hugged her in all the right places. If Casey weren't there, I would have been trying to get my hands all over Tiffany.

She had been given a pair of strappy black sandals to wear, and the jeans came down over them. Only the bottom straps of the sandals showed, along with her cute toes. She had painted her nails the same color as the plum dress she wore to the mall. The heel on her shoes had to be the same height as my boots, as we stood almost even. Usually I could tell when one of us had higher heels than the other, though Tiffany always had an inch on me.

Apparently Casey had liked the look of Tiffany's dress, as she used a bit of the same style in her selection. She had Tiffany wear a bright red, skin tight turtleneck top, with three quarter sleeves and cropped to show her navel. Over that top, she had a white vest type jacket. It came down past the red top, but with it open, her navel was still proudly on display. I started to wonder if maybe we were dressed a little beyond our age, when Casey broke the silence.

"Okay! Here's how this works," Casey said. "Sometimes we put two to three models in one window, but tonight I think we'll put Tiffany in one window, and Bailey in the other."

I cringed when it finally dawned on me where we'd be. When she had said display window, she meant the ones at the front of the store. Hundreds of people would walk by tonight, looking in on us modeling 'Tweens' clothes. If anyone recognized me, my life would be over. At least we wouldn't be out in the mall handing off coupons. Casey continued to explain the arrangement to us.

"I'll give each of you a pose every ten minutes," Casey said. "The poses won't be that complicated, and should be fairly easy to hold for ten minutes." She looked us both over. "Don't strain yourself to keep the poses, but try to stay as still as possible. I know it won't be perfect, but pretend you're both mannequins." She waved us to follow her to the front of the store. "After three poses, each ten minutes long, I'll give you a short break to change outfits, and then you'll go another thirty minutes."

"I think we can handle that," Tiffany said.

"It's not really hard," Casey said. "Have fun with it, but I remind you again… don't do anything to tarnish the 'Tween name, or the products."

"We wouldn't think of such a thing," I said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Casey said. "We'll do two of these shifts. So you should both be out of here before nine." She looked back at us. "Should give you some time to run around the mall before everything closes." She pointed to the phone. "If you need to call your ride or your parents to tell them, just dial one first."

"I'm sure our ride will probably walk by us at some point," Tiffany said. "She's in the mall somewhere."

"Okay, good," Casey said. "Any questions?"

We both shook our heads, and Casey studied us for a moment. She then went on to give us our first poses. Tiffany was asked to stand with her legs slightly apart, and her arms bent at the elbows behind her. Casey instructed her to put her hands palm out in the back pockets of her jeans, and keep her chin up. I had to admit, it was pretty simple, and basically made the clothes the focus.

My pose wasn't all that complicated either. Casey had me stand with my legs slightly apart, with my right fist on my waist. She had me put my other hand up, holding the button of the top, like I had just unbuttoned it. It wasn't too bad, and I could actually hold onto the shirt a bit if I wanted to rest my dangling arm. I also had to keep my chin up, but she had me look slightly to the right. Satisfied at the poses, Casey had us go to our respective windows.

It actually wasn't too hard to stay still either. Though we had a few people stop and try to get us to move, more than that simply walked by without notice. Some kids, younger than us, had to stop and see if we were real or fake. I stuck my tongue out at one little girl, and she broke into a huge smile. Her mother dragged her away, as the little girl tugged at her; begging her to look back at me.

Apparently time went faster than I thought, as Casey stepped into the window on Tiffany's side to give her a new pose. The new pose for Tiffany didn't have much variance. Casey had her turn her feet out more, while keeping her left hand in her back pocket. The only noticeable change happened to be her other arm. She was instructed to put her arm straight out to the side, and bend her elbow so her hand came back to her head. Then Casey had her turn her head to the right, and look down a bit.

My pose also changed very slightly. Casey came over, and the first thing she did was ask me to turn my left foot completely out to the side. Then she kicked the back of my heel gently until my knee was slightly bent to compensate. I noticed this rolled my hip out more on my right side, raising my bottom a bit. For some reason she found it easier to just move me, than instruct me.

Casey pulled my left arm down, and across my belly. She pulled a bit of my camisole up and had me hold it between my thumb and first two fingers. Then she played with my hand a bit until my pinky was sticking straight out. She then rearranged my other arm to where it was straight down at my side, with my elbow bent to where my hand reached up to my face. Then she had me look straight ahead, but slightly tilt my cheek onto the back of my hand.

"Perfect!" Casey said. "You two are naturals. With you two modeling and my sister handing out coupons, I bet our foot traffic shoots up about seventy five percent tonight."

"I'm actually enjoying this," I said.

"Well I'm glad!" Casey said. "If you want, I can put your names in to do it again some time. Just leave your numbers with me before you leave."

"Really?"

"Sure!" Casey said. "You both are nice girls. I'd love to have you back."

A subtle smile spread across my face as Casey left the window. She actually thought we were both girls. Tiffany hadn't said a word to the contrary, as she knew this upset me. Jillian didn't know my real secret. Our secret to her was us being lesbians. If she knew my other secret she'd probably blow a gasket. She seemed like the type to really get upset over such things.

I had unknowingly drawn a bit of attention to myself with my smile. Several young boys, most probably older than me, stood to gawk. Apparently it was common knowledge, by now, that 'Tweens used real people to model for them on occasion. While I wasn't thrilled about drawing this much attention, I felt a bit of satisfaction in being pretty enough to cause boys to stop and stare.

I still didn't like boys, at least not in any regard to a relationship. Nathan happened to be the only one I ever got close to, and I didn't really want to get any closer than we had. For a brief moment I thought about Nathan. I thought about how he had touched me in the park. It felt good. I couldn't deny the feelings I had around him, but even then I had reservations about acting upon them.

A few of the boys, outside the window, started to wink and blow kisses at me. I saw Tiffany getting the same treatment at the other window. Even some of the girls got in on the act. They were obviously attempting to get us to do something wrong, so we'd lose our deal with the store. I decided to take it all in stride, and I could see Tiffany chose to ignore it. There were few things that could stand between her and clothes.

Eventually Casey walked out and politely asked the group of kids to move along. Several girls walked past her toward the store entrance. A couple of them paused to study my attire, and I saw one of them turn to Casey to inquire about it. Casey waved them into the store, and they all followed her. I couldn't help but think my modeling these clothes got a girl interested enough to buy them.

I found a bit more strength in me to stay as still as possible. Maybe if I drew in some more people, Casey might let me out of here with a little more clothing. Why that was important to me at the time, I'll never know. It was probably one of those things I would have to think long and hard about later, but right now I was having fun. A few minutes later, the girls walked out of the store. They had a few bags from 'Tweens spread out amongst them. Casey came into my window shortly after.

"Whatever you did," Casey said, "keep it up. That girl just bought a copy of the entire outfit you have on."

"Wow! Really?" I asked.

"Yes," Casey said. "Boots and all! Daddy's credit cards are always welcome here." She gave me a measured look. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind your last pose being a bit more fetching."

"I'm your mannequin," I said.

Casey smiled at me. She had me stand about a foot away from the concrete wall, on the side without a window, but closer to the window. Then she pulled the crop top down off of my shoulders, to where it hung loosely around my elbows. After this she had me lean back against the wall, with my legs angled out in front of me. She had me put both arms down with my palms flat against the wall.

Before I could get comfortable with that position, Casey had me pull my outside leg up, which happened to be my left leg. She had me bend it at the knee until my foot was flat against the wall, about level with my other knee. Then she put her hand under my chin to lift it a bit higher. I found myself looking more upward than straight out.

"Just like that," Casey said. "Try to keep your back curved, and only let your shoulder blades and butt touch the wall."

I followed her directions. She smiled and nodded at me. Then she messed with my hair a little bit, before adjusting the straps of my camisole.

"Think you can hold that?"

"I'm sure I can," I said.

"Good," Casey said. "I'll go work on your friend now."

I watched her disappear through the small door of my display window and reappear a moment later in Tiffany's window. The small room started to get warm, and I didn't know if it was from the lights overhead, or from seeing Tiffany in that outfit. She never wore jeans as tight as the ones she had on. They were usually baggier, and never showed a whole lot of her form underneath. It was at that time I noticed Tiffany actually had form.

I also realized people would be getting a good glimpse of her form tonight. Casey had her turn and face the back wall of her display window; the wall with the door. As Casey had Tiffany put her left leg in line with her shoulder, she had her slant her right leg way out to the side. This put all of Tiffany's weight on her left, and her hip rolled up on that side. It also pushed her bottom up and out.

I couldn't believe it took a pair of tight jeans to realize Tiffany's bottom had filled out a bit more than I remembered. Her legs looked good too, almost as good as her sister's legs. When the hell did she get her sister's body? Had I missed some overnight change somewhere? They said in our health class that girls mature faster than boys, but I didn't expect it to be that fast. I kept watching as Casey finished the pose instructions.

Tiffany had her right hand and arm against the back wall, with her elbow pointed down. Her shoulders were back, pushing her chest forward, and creating the same arch I had in my own back. If one could be fully blossomed, or not at all, Tiffany sat somewhere in the nearly there seat. Her breasts had grown to almost a B cup, as I now knew from experience with bras, but I hadn't noticed the rest.

Tiffany let her left arm dangle down at her side. I saw her exchange a few words with Casey, and then she giggled. Before Casey left the window, Tiffany turned her head to where she was now looking back over her right shoulder. When she saw me, she gave me a big smile. She looked amazing. I knew then that I couldn't lose her to anyone else. I had to hold onto her somehow.

I returned her smile, and with it I mouthed the words "I love you" to her. Her beaming smile dropped to a more sincere one, as she mouthed the words back. For the first time since we started posing, we could actually see each other. Even though her line of sight was actually out into the mall, she mostly kept her eyes on me. It had been a long time since we had looked at each other for more than a few seconds.

The foot traffic slowed for a moment outside. It left a small gap of time for me to stew in my thoughts. I thought of my situation. Here I was modeling girl's clothing in the window at the mall. Anyone could have walked by and recognized me. Though knowing it would totally ruin my chances at a normal life, to be caught by classmates like this, I would do it all over again. It made Tiffany happy.

I honestly didn't do this for her, though her current happiness was a bonus. In reality I had done it for the clothes. Without anyone pushing me to wear them, I had decided on my own that I actually wanted them. I even wanted to earn them, especially the boots. If that meant I had to wear them, then I chose to do so. It was a small thing, but I had come to the realization that it was a significant choice in the scheme of things.

After that realization, there came another one. I didn't even have to come here tonight. Now that I saw who was responsible for the letter, and that no harm came of it, I knew things wouldn't have changed one bit. It didn't even feel like I was forced to come now. In fact, I would put it in the long list as another choice. I kept choosing the things that made me more girly.

There was a lot to be said for my friends and family putting me in certain situations, but those situations all had choices. I didn't have to play dress up with Tiffany. She never even forced it with painting my nails. I chose to let her. I chose to go shopping, to the spa, and even to the parties as a girl. Even when Tom forced me to wear panties and paint my nails, I chose to add more to it.

The choices even became easier for me to make. At least they were until I had to make a choice to deny my feelings. Rajan had even offered me the choice right there in his office. In my opinion, I chose the path of laziness. I just wanted to go back to a normal life, and felt at the time it would get people off my back. Now I wasn't so sure a boys' life was normal for me anymore.

I could have chosen the same path as Megan. What puzzled me the most, is how well she seemed adjusted. I had always guessed that nobody paid much attention to her as a boy. Maybe her former gender simply didn't register in everyone's minds when she came back to school as a girl. Though as I thought about it more, I realized there was a bit more to it than that.

Megan absolutely sucked at being a boy. She never really called attention to herself, but I could recall moments of her silently consoling herself on the playground. I remembered she remained quiet about things, but she would cry relentlessly over things like tiny cuts or bruises. Some kids were just soft, and other kids realized that in elementary school. She was lucky to change before junior high, where half the population of kids turned downright cruel.

Then again, Megan hadn't completely changed either. To the best of my knowledge, I understood her to still be a boy down there. I wondered how she got away with it; gym class, slumber parties and such. Did I miss some kind of secret door in my life, that took you to a place where all of those things don't matter anymore? The school most certainly had to know, incase of incidents, but wouldn't the other parents be a little bit turned off by the thought of a half-boy-half-girl changing with their girls in the locker room?

That's when it finally dawned on me. It wasn't technicalities like those, or even the facts about Megan. I had been blind to it since I found out about her. She wasn't "getting away with something" as my stepfather may see it, but instead she had just been herself. It came naturally to her to act like a girl, because she was naturally a girl. Her actions, thoughts, and how she was on the inside was how the world should perceive her. If she carried herself in such a manner, then those other things shouldn't matter.

"Oh my God! It's Bailey!"

My eyes got so big I thought they would pop from my skull. Disregarding the instructions to remain as still as possible, I jerked my head in the direction of the voice I had heard. My pulse quickened. My heart raced. It was a male voice, and I thought for sure it would be someone ready and willing to make my life a living hell.

"Nathan!?" I choked out.

"You owe me five bucks chump," Nathan said. "I got her to break pose."

Next to Nathan Riley stood my brother Justin. He begrudgingly dug out a wadded bill from the front right pocket of his baggy jeans. Then he slapped it in Nathan's hand. He looked at me as he shook his head, but a small smile soon came to his lips. Nathan gloated a bit over winning the bet, but then his eyes roamed over my body.

"I'm buying us drinks with this later," Nathan said, holding up the five dollar bill and waving it at me.

I signaled for them to go bug someone else, but Justin ignored me and walked toward the entrance of 'Tweens. He seemed to be greeting someone inside the store, and I soon recognized Casey's voice talking back to him. Then the door of my display window opened, and Casey waved me back into the store. She walked over to get Tiffany out of the other window, and then she came back over to where Justin stood.

"So this is your little sister?" Casey said, looking at me.

"Yeah," Justin said. "Hope she hasn't been a pain." He was definitely trying to act mature.

"Not at all," Casey said. "She's a little cutie."

"How long have you been working here?" Justin asked.

"About three months," Casey said, moving back toward the cashier counter.

"I didn't even know they opened a 'Tweens here," Justin said.

He winked at me as he started to follow Casey. The spot where he stood didn't have time to cool off, as Nathan quickly stepped into it. Tiffany moved closer to me. She glanced back and forth between Nathan and I, and then took a quick glance around the store. I felt her nudge me with her elbow.

"So this is Nathan?"

"Yes," I said. "Nathan this is my girlfriend Tiffany." I realized my slight blunder as soon as I said it.

Tiffany quickly fixed the situation by sliding her arm around mine. "Best girlfriend," she said, putting emphasis on the first word.

"Well nice to meet you Tiffany," Nathan said. A knowing look shot across his face for a brief moment, as he offered his hand to Tiffany.

"Nice to meet you finally," Tiffany said, giving up her hand for a brief handshake. "Bailey talks about you all the time."

"Not all the time," I said, giving Tiffany a scolding look. I turned back to face Nathan. "I've mentioned you a few times."

"Well," Nathan said. "I guess an honorable mention is better than nothing." He looked back at the display windows. "So you two are doing the 'Tweens modeling thing huh?"

"Uh huh," Tiffany said. "We didn't even know about it."

"I'm sure they don't advertise for it," Nathan said, turning back to face us. "They'd have little girls flocking to the store to sign up."

"That's right," Casey said, walking up behind me. "The company pretends they're paid models, but basically we seek out models by word of mouth. We usually like repeats." She looked at Tiffany, and then looked at me. "So don't go telling everybody you know."

"Not a chance," Tiffany said. "There'd be too much competition."

Casey laughed. "You better get into your other outfits," she said, putting a key in my hand. "They're in the last stall of the changing area, and I put your names on them."

"Thanks," I said.

"How long are they going to be here?" Nathan asked.

"Probably another hour at most," Casey said. "Unless they need to leave now?"

"No," Nathan said. "It's fine. I was just wondering if they had time to get a drink in the food court after."

"Really?" Tiffany asked.

"If you want," Nathan said.

"Sure!" Tiffany said. "Sounds like fun." She turned and gave me an excited look, like she had just scored me a hot date. "We better go get changed," she said to me.

"Aw don't change," Nathan said. "I like you both the way you are."

I rolled my eyes at Nathan, and took up Tiffany's hand. We walked back to the changing room in a bit of a rush. I assumed Tiffany was in a hurry to see our new outfits, as she nearly made me drop the key to the stall from her jittering. Eventually I got the key in the hole, and we both piled into the stall. Tiffany closed the door so fast I thought she had broken it. She clicked the lock shut.

Soon I realized her excitement didn't stem from putting on a new outfit. Tiffany's excitement came from another source. At the time I didn't know exactly where it came from, but I knew it had something to do with me. I soon felt the cold from the concrete wall on my back. Tiffany's hands pinned my shoulders to the wall. Her lips soon found mine, and she shoved her tongue in my mouth in a kiss that nearly suffocated me.

"I want you so bad," she purred breathlessly, as she broke the kiss.

I stood there speechless, panting for air. Tiffany pushed her lips against mine again, and started pulling the crop top from my shoulders. I had adjusted it earlier when we came back in the store, but now I found it being peeled down my arms. She pulled the top all the way down to my wrists, before she stopped. Together, with another kiss, she slid her hands under my camisole, and started squeezing the padding of my bra. She broke the kiss and gazed into my eyes.

"I wish these were real," she said, with labored breaths. "Do you know how hot that would be?"

Before I could answer, she pushed her lips against mine again. I tried to reach out and embrace her, but with the shirt around my wrists I couldn't manage much movement. She broke our kiss to peer down, and noted my dilemma. Instead of helping me get the shirt off, she simply smiled mischievously at me. Her tongue darted out and flicked over my upper lip.

"I bet you want to touch me don't you?" she asked.

"More than you know," I said.

"Oh," Tiffany said. "I know." She had a glassy, yearning gleam in her eyes. "I bet you'd love to rub your hands all over me." She glanced down. "Do you like these jeans?"

"They look fantastic on you," I said.

"I don't normally wear them this tight," Tiffany said. She looked back up into my eyes. "But I would wear them again for you."

"Really?"

"Would you wear them for me?" Tiffany asked.

"I would," I said. "Though I think you got the body for them. Your body is incred--"

For some reason this seemed to warrant another kiss from Tiffany. Though I didn't see how it was possible, she got even more passionate. Her tongue swirled around mine, causing me to chase after it. When I thought the kiss would end, her cute little nostrils flared up in a long breath, and she continued the kiss. I wasn't at all prepared for the amount of passion we shared, and I soon found myself struggling to keep up.

Tiffany pushed her body up against mine. Her hands slid out from under my camisole and over to my forearms. She kept kissing me, as she pinned my arms to the wall, and rubbed her breasts against mine. Soon I could feel my skirt sliding up, as her right thigh invaded the space between my own thighs. I felt a bit dizzy, but she kept our lips locked together. It almost seemed as if she was trying to force every last ounce of air out of me.

My skirt continued to rise. I felt the denim of her jeans rubbing against my groin. Even through the layers of nylon and cotton, I still felt vulnerable. My eyes fluttered, but for the most part, Tiffany stared intently into them. If this was a power play, she was definitely winning. As always, she had complete control over the situation when it came to our playful little escapades. This, however, didn't feel like playing.

Tiffany took another deep breath, and I knew I couldn't continue to keep up with her. My eyes grew wide, perhaps with a bit of trepidation in them, and I detected a faint glimmer in Tiffany's eyes. I felt dizzy and weak, and my body couldn't stand the strain any longer. It didn't take long for me to show signs that I had been overwhelmed. My body finally slumped down, my groin resting on her thigh. She broke the kiss with a look of great satisfaction.

"That's my girl!" Tiffany said, while taking in a labored breath.

I struggled for a moment to catch my breath. Meanwhile, Tiffany had started to pump her foot up and down. Her thigh began to grind against my groin. Whatever effort I had put into catching my breath, now seemed moot, as I found my breath soon coming in ragged bursts. Tiffany studied my face intently, as her thigh continued to cause friction against my trapped penis.

Right as I reached that point of no return, prepared to experience the same high I felt the morning after the pool party, Tiffany stopped. She jerked her knee back away from me. All of that build up she created was squelched at the last second. The disappointment I felt was somehow comforted by the look Tiffany gave me. She had a look of concern across her face, and seemed a bit sad as well.

"I promise I'll make it up to you," Tiffany said. "I just didn't want to make a mess here."

"I understand," I said, pulling my top off the rest of the way. I knew her word was good, as she always made it up to me in some way.

Tiffany reached up and removed a bit of smeared lipstick from my lips, and then turned to use the mirror for her own. She then pulled a tube of lipstick from her pocket, and reapplied a thin coat to her lips. After handing the lipstick to me, she looked over our outfits. I watched her in the mirror. If we weren't concerned about time, or making a mess, I would've loved for her to have taken me down to the floor right there.

"So the silver flats are yours," Tiffany said, "and that outfit there."

I looked over at my outfit. A pretty, full skirt called to me from the hook on the wall. It had layers of taffeta material, some sheer, with little silver stars embroidered into it, and some silver. They were stacked upon each other, and gathered into a four inch wide waistband. Underneath all the layers there happened to be a lining layer of black satin, with decorative lace along the hem.

I lifted the skirt from the hook, and looked at the shirt that hung behind it. It appeared to be another camisole top, black, with lacy frills along the bottom and the ruche bust. Where the material of the bust came together, a small little butterfly sat with wings spread open. The outline of it appeared to be decorated in tiny little rhinestones, adding just a hint of sparkle to the otherwise plain top.

"You have got to wear that home," Tiffany said, seemingly more excited about my outfit.

"I'm not sure if we can," I said.

Tiffany had already taken her two tops off. Beneath her layers she had on a snug, seamless sports bra. I paused to watch her for a moment, and she honestly didn't seem to mind. She gave me a mischievous smile as she reached for the button of her jeans. After a quick flip of the button, and a slow pull of the zipper, Tiffany began to shimmy the jeans down her legs. If anything, it slightly made up for her stopping our previous play with such short notice.

Her panties were plain cotton briefs, the same heather gray as her bra. She obviously didn't plan on anyone seeing them tonight. I had learned this tiny little secret of selection from being around the girls. As she got the jeans down close to her knees, she eased herself onto the bench in the changing room. Then she crossed her legs to remove her right shoe, crossed them the other way to remove the left, and slid the jeans off the rest of the way.

"I think that was one of the sexiest things I've seen you do," I said.

"Your turn," Tiffany said, adding a wink.

"Prepare to be amazed," I said, sarcastically.

I smoothed my skirt, and sat down on the opposite bench. My show wasn't nearly as sexy as Tiffany's, but I did manage to remove my boots with my legs crossed. As a little added bonus for her, I got to peel the wool socks from my nylon-covered legs. She mock fanned herself, like the temperature had shot up in the room. By the time I shimmied out of the leather skirt, Tiffany was over next to me, running her hands over my pantyhose.

"You should leave those on," she said. "They feel nice."

I started to reach for the hem of my cami, but Tiffany stopped me. She pulled the other top from the hook, and removed it from the hanger. After doing that, she helped me pull it on, and adjusted it over the white cami. Now I had the black cami over the white, with the white's lacy decoration showing from behind the lacy decoration in the black. I also noticed the black one didn't come down as far as the white one, leaving about an inch of white sticking out of the bottom.

"Cute," Tiffany said. "Skirt please."

I reached back, and brought the skirt up to Tiffany's waiting hands. Before I knew it, she was down on her knees in front of me. She held out the skirt for me to step into it, and then she slowly brought it up my legs. When she reached about mid thigh with the top of the skirt, she stopped and left it there for a moment. I felt her hands slide around to the backs of my legs.

After a moment passed, of Tiffany rubbing my legs over my pantyhose, she moved her hands up further. Soon she had them latched onto my bottom, and squeezed my buns gently. I couldn't tell if I was moving forward, or if Tiffany was, but she soon had her face near my lap. Her beautiful eyes rolled up to look into mine. Then she let her face fall forward, and gently kissed the area where my penis sat tucked beneath my hose and panties.

I trembled at Tiffany's gesture. She pulled away quickly after, and slowly pulled the skirt up the rest of the way. After adjusting my tops so they were over the wide waistband of my skirt, she fluffed the layers of the skirt out. She then reached for the silver ballet flats, and sat them next to my feet on the floor. Then she lowered herself almost to the floor, and after kissing the tops of my feet, she helped me slide the flats over them. She had never demonstrated such an obvious submissive gesture toward me before, and it shocked me.

I regained my composure, as she cleared my pantyhose of a few noticeable traces of white thread and fuzz left from the knit socks. Did she want to play the part of the maid now? When she seemed satisfied, she pulled away. I helped her back up to her feet. We shared a subtle smile, and held each other's hands for a moment. Then she leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"I better get dressed," Tiffany said, as she pulled away from me.

"Tiffany…"

I grabbed her right hand with my left before she slipped away. She turned back to me, her hair flipping around in a sudden jerk. As I gazed upon her, a lingering silence filled the air. Her face contorted from a look of sudden surprise, to a curious concerned expression. She started to say something, but I stopped her.

"You look amazing," I said.

Tiffany blushed, as her eyes became misty. "You are the sweetest person I know," she said, squeezing my hand tightly.

Tiffany slid her arms around me. She held me for a moment in a tight embrace. Before moving away, she gave me another kiss on the cheek. I swear to this day, that she briefly reached up to wipe away a tear. How could I possibly be the sweetest person she knew? There had to be other people out there willing to give her a compliment. Surely her family was sweet to her, though they had been giving her a hard time lately.

Tiffany's second outfit, in my opinion, looked rather dull at first. On her body, however, it looked really nice. She wore a cap-sleeved, black, satin shirt dress, with darting to make it appear fitted. It buttoned up from the waist to the bust, leaving the area from the bust to the collar a strict V neckline that couldn't be closed. Each breast boasted a fake pocket, which made the whole thing look rather businesslike.

To add to the uncompromisingly sensible look of the black dress, it came with a wide black leather belt to go around the midsection. At least I thought it was leather, but it could've been fake. She also had to wear the same strappy, black sandals, as Casey didn't give her any other shoes. The only thing Tiffany got to offset her all black outfit, was a cute coral colored bolero style jacket. It was crochet mesh, and had three-quarter sleeves with a slight puff on each shoulder.

"You two look lovely," Casey said, as we walked back into the store. "And it looks like you scored a couple of cute guys in the process." She smiled at us, before giving a little wink. "They said they'd wait for you down in the food court."

"That was my brother," I said, a little disgustedly.

"Well Tiffany can take Justin," Casey said, "and you can have Nathan."

"Yeah Bailey," Tiffany said, nudging me playfully with her elbow. "You can have Nathan."

I noticed she put a little more emphasis on the word have, like she was rooting for me to hook up with Nathan. After seeing Kale the other day, Nathan had actually slipped down to number two on my list. Why I secretly had a list of guys I would hook up with, if I had to choose, was beyond me. I honestly had no desire to do so. However, I still questioned whether or not Kale dressed as a girl counted as a guy. Megan's condition had completely taken her off of the guys list.

Casey gave us our new poses, and we went back to work. I posed like a blushing little school girl, crouched over slightly and holding the front of my skirt down. It got a little hard to hold over time, as I had to keep my knees and toes together, while angling my heels out. Tiffany looked like one of those moody models, with her hip thrust out to the side, and her hand resting in a fist on top of it. Her other arm dangled along her left side, making her appear agitated by others.

Ten minutes passed in a hurry, and Casey came back with props. She gave me a stool to sit on, thinking I might be a bit tired of standing. My pose became the sitting equivalent of my last one, with my knees together and my hands holding my skirt down in my lap. Casey had me sit up straight, and she moved my feet as far out as they would go. I rested them on my toes, and let my heels fall out away from my body.

When I stole a glance at Tiffany, I noticed she got a stool to sit on as well. Only she had been instructed to sit like a proper lady. Her pose was stiff and rigid, and as businesslike as her outfit. She had her legs crossed. The bottom leg, her left, slanted back under her a bit, while the right leg hung neatly over it. She sat up straight, and held a compact mirror up like she was checking her makeup.

It was during this second pose, that Jillian returned to the store. She smiled as she passed me, and then stepped over to look in on Tiffany. I don't think Tiffany noticed, but Jillian seemed to be admiring her. Jillian took an unusually long amount of time just to be looking someone over. Maybe it was the heat of the lights, or I was over-thinking it, but there seemed to be a bit of pure admiration on Jillian's part.

When it came time for our last poses of the night, I was surprised to see Jillian go into Tiffany's display window. Even more surprising was the fact that Jillian decided to pose with her. She gave Tiffany an open folder, and had her hold it up like she was looking at it. Tiffany pretended to be so engrossed with what was in the folder, that she didn't pay attention to Jillian.

Meanwhile, Jillian sat on the stool in front of Tiffany. She stooped over and held a cloth measuring tape against Tiffany. It appeared like she was measuring down Tiffany's leg from her waist. I finally got the image they were going for, as soon as they finally held it. They wanted it to appear like Tiffany was a business woman, too busy to pay attention to the girl measuring her for clothing.

I nearly fainted when Casey entered my display window with a young boy. Before I could say anything about it, Casey had me stand and took away my stool. She had me turn and face the boy. Luckily I didn't recognize him, and I hoped he didn't recognize me. He really wasn't bad to look at either, with his casual khakis and sweater look, and short, curly black hair. His brown eyes seemed sincere, but filled with a bit of trepidation.

I soon realized that Casey intended us to pose together. Apparently he had been out in the mall handing coupons away, like Jillian, and I hadn't noticed he came back a bit before her. Maybe Jillian and this boy had been modeling before we got there, and Tiffany and I replaced them. I really didn't care where he had been though. The whole of me just wanted this next block of ten minutes to be over quickly.

Casey didn't seem to notice I was a bit uncomfortable about the situation. She went ahead and posed us anyway. First she had me stand with my legs tight together. Then she instructed me to lift my right heel, and twist it out, so that my right knee was bent slightly in front of my left. Next she instructed me to hold my arms straight down, but to rest my wrists against my skirt. This left my arms angled out a bit, and she had me hold my hands perpendicular to the floor, with my palms facing down.

For the last part of the pose, Casey had me look at an empty box the boy held. She told me to hold a surprised look, like Dylan had bought me a present. At least I knew the boy's name now, and I didn't recognize it at all. Casey tilted my shoulders, right side down and left side up, shifting my weight to my right side. This caused me to put most of my weight on just the toes of my right side, instead of the more stable left side; where my foot was solidly flat on the floor.

I felt unsure and vulnerable. A strong wind could have knocked me over. If I toppled, I would hopefully be caught by Dylan, before I crashed to the floor. However, I really didn't want to fall into some strange boy's arms. Casey approved of my pose, however, and after giving Dylan a few instructions, she left the display window. I glanced up at Dylan.

"I'm their cousin by the way," Dylan said. "They usually rope me into this, 'cause no guy is willing to do it."

"Okay," I said, keeping it simple.

I really didn't want to talk to him. It felt strange having a boy stare at me for any length of time, let alone a whole ten minute block. Not to mention the fact that he had solidified yet another aspect of my girlishness in my own mind. He was probably right too. No guy was willing to do what I was doing. Therefore, I concluded that I wasn't much of a guy to be doing it.

"I just thought you should know," Dylan said. "It's not like my twisted way to pick up chicks."

"I don't think we're supposed to be talking," I said, in a near whisper.

"I do all the time," Dylan said.

"Well it's not like they're going to send you packing," I said. "I'm actually taking this seriously."

"Oh I am too," Dylan said. "Believe me. If I goof around, my parents will hear about it. I'll be grounded for like a month, if I do something stupid."

"Then stop talking," I said, looking back at the box.

"I can't help it," Dylan said. "I think you're pretty."

My eyes shot up to meet his. "What?"

"Usually I'm in a window by myself," Dylan said, "or handing out coupons." His eyes moved over my body. "You're like the cutest girl I've gotten to model with though."

"Thanks," I said, "but I can see why."

"Why what?"

"Why you're by yourself," I said. "You talk too much, and it's distracting."

"I'm sorry," Dylan said, for the first time looking sincere. "I'm just kind of nervous around pretty girls, and I start talking."

"Well I really want some of these clothes," I said, having to reel from the shock of the statement actually being true. "So don't blow it for me."

"Oh I won't," Dylan said. "You can have my clothes too, if you'd like."

"What!?" I glanced back up at him.

"I meant…" Dylan looked down in shame. "That sounded so wrong. I meant you could have my limit for yourself."

"That's really nice of you," I said, "but I can't accept that."

"No really," Dylan said. "I don't even like the clothes here. Most of the time it just goes to waste."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You did work for it."

"Like I said," Dylan said. "I'm being forced to do this. If you don't take it, Jillian will."

"What about my girlfriend?" I asked, instantly wanting the question back to reword it.

"Sure," Dylan said. "You two can split it."

"I don't know," I said.

"Please?" Dylan pleaded. "It's my way of saying sorry."

"I'm sorry I misjudged you," I said, as sincere as I could make it sound. "You're actually a pretty nice guy. I guess I'll accept the offer." I gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Dylan said. "Just helping out two pretty girls."

I tried to ignore his comment, and went back to staring at the box. Though there was nothing but crumpled red tissue paper in it, I pretended Dylan was giving me his clothing limit in box form. A few minutes passed in silence. The crowd had dissipated outside in the mall. Only a few stragglers walked by 'Tweens, and out of those, only about ten total stopped to look inside.

"Do you want to hang out for a bit after this?" Dylan asked, piercing the silence again with his shaky voice.

"I kind of have other plans," I said.

"Oh," Dylan said. "No problem."

For some reason I felt bad about blowing him off, especially after what he had just done for me. I glanced past him at Tiffany, who seemed to be utterly ignoring me as well as Jillian. What would she have done in this situation? Would she have at least given him a shot to redeem himself? I did have other plans, so it wasn't like I was lying. Still…

"Though I see no reason why you can't join us," I said, looking at Dylan.

"Really?" he asked, perking up.

"Sure!" I said. "We're just meeting some friends in the food court."

"Ah, cool!" Dylan said. "Sounds like fun."

We went back to an awkward silence for the remainder of our ten minute pose. However, it lasted a bit longer than ten minutes by my estimate. My legs were starting to get sore, and I felt wobbly on my right side. I started to wonder how some people made a living at this. I pictured models having to stand in one pose for sculptors and painters. Silly thoughts like that usually helped me persevere most of the time, and it seemed to work this time as well.

"You two can come out now," Casey said, after opening the door of the display window.

"That was way more than ten minutes, Case," Dylan said.

"I know," Casey said. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't get up here in time." She turned to face me as she got to the other window. "You okay Bailey?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"I know it can get a little hot in there," Casey said, before waving at the other display window. "There's water in the back if you need some."

"I'm fine," I said again. "Really."

"So your name's Bailey huh?" Dylan said.

"Yes," I said. "Sorry we weren't properly introduced."

"Well nice to meet you Bailey," Dylan said, extending his hand.

I took his hand, but instantly wanted to release it. His hand felt clammy and a bit sweaty. Either he got hot from the lights, or he was really nervous. Tiffany and Jillian came out of the other display window, and walked over to us. I nodded at Tiffany for Dylan.

"This is Tiffany," I said.

"Nice to meet you too," Dylan said, shaking her hand.

"Likewise," Tiffany said.

"Stop fraternizing with the help," Jillian said, walking back into the store.

"Stop using nerdy words like you're important," Dylan said.

"I'm more important than you!" Jillian retorted.

"Guys!" Casey said. "Stop fighting." She watched Jillian storm off into the back, before turning to Dylan. "You've been at each other's throats since we left the house today. What gives?"

"She's always so bossy and arrogant," Dylan said. "Oh, and I'm giving these two my clothing limit." He turned back to me. "See you in a little bit?"

I nodded, while Tiffany gave me a strange look. Dylan walked out of the store. Apparently he came in those clothes, or he had taken them from 'Tweens on another occasion. Casey didn't say a thing about it. She watched Dylan leave, and then looked at us. Then she slowly shook her head.

"I don't know why he thinks he can just give away his limit like that," Casey said. "He knows the rules say it's void if he declines the offer."

"It's really no big deal," I said.

"No it is," Casey said. "I can't let you have his limit, but we can work something out."

Jillian came up beside her, holding two bags. "I got your things from the back," she said, offering us each a bag. "You can use the same changing room." She turned and started to walk away.

"Hey, Jillian?" Tiffany asked, waiting for her to turn around. "You want to come hang out with us at the food court?"

Jillian looked us both over, before shrugging. "I guess so."

"Guess we'll see you there then," Tiffany said.

"I'll meet you down there," Jillian said. "I have to do the count on the coupons we gave out tonight."

"Sure," Tiffany said. "No problem."

"We should be there a while," I said.

"Super," Jillian said, before turning to walk to the back.

Tiffany took my empty hand, and nearly dragged me to the changing room. I figured we were going to have another make out episode when she rushed to close the door. I shied away from Tiffany, not wanting to get caught up in the moment. Though I loved how she made me feel in those moments, I wasn't in the mood now. I knew it wouldn't culminate into something special, so I simply declined.

"What's with you and Dylan?" Tiffany asked. She turned to face me with a stunned expression.

"Nothing," I said.

"It sure didn't look like nothing," Tiffany said.

Her demeanor hadn't slipped into that of a jealous girlfriend. Come to think of it, she seldom got upset about me flirting with others, or even over my roaming eyes. One time she had looked upset over me talking about a few girls in our class who I thought were pretty. However, she didn't get mad about it. In fact, Tiffany was the one who now talked about other pretty girls in class, and she didn't mind if I chimed in. I guess it was the equivalent of a girl talking to a gay friend about boys, only we were like two lesbians talking about girls.

"He just wouldn't stop talking to me," I said.

"And?"

"And…" I said, dragging it out like she did. "Nothing."

"You are so not telling me the whole story," Tiffany said.

I chuckled. "There's no story!"

Tiffany started pulling the bolero style jacket off. "This is cute," she said. "I think I'll definitely keep this."

"It looks good on you," I said, starting to peel my own outfit off.

"So are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About Dylan," Tiffany said. "What happened in there?"

"You're not going to let this go are you?"

Tiffany shook her head solemnly. She put the bolero style jacket on a hanger, and went to remove the belt around her waist. I watched her for a moment, as she balanced herself against the wall to remove one shoe. Then she balanced herself against the other wall to remove the other shoe. The method wasn't nearly as sexy as the last time. It became increasingly obvious that she wouldn't talk until I said something.

"Oh fine," I said, pulling at my top. "He wouldn't stop talking, so I told him how important the clothes were to me." I paused when Tiffany looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "To us I mean."

"No," Tiffany said. "You said they were important to you." She smiled at me. "That's fine if they are. I understand." She reached for the buttons of her dress. "But go on."

I pulled the shirt over my head, and reached for a hanger. "So I found out he's their cousin."

"Casey and Jillian's?"

"Yes," I said. "They make him help out here all the time. I don't know why they can't find someone else."

"Don't you know the deal with this place?" Tiffany asked.

"Should I?"

Tiffany laughed quietly. "Their relatives own 'Tweens," she said. "They have a huge family, and some of them moved out here from Colorado."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know that."

"Well," Tiffany said. "Casey's parents opened a store here, and Casey and Jillian help out a lot, because they're just getting started. I just didn't know Dylan was related." She shook her head. "But we're getting off track. Tell me about Dylan."

"He saw I was upset and offered his clothing limit to me," I said. "Basically it was offered to both of us."

"Well," Tiffany said. "I think you should take it." She pulled the dress off over her head. "If Casey honors it that is."

"I'd hate to take advantage of the store," I said, pulling the skirt down and stepping out of it. "I'd feel bad about it."

"Maybe you could talk Casey into letting you have something extra," Tiffany said.

"We'll see," I said.

"So that's the whole story?" Tiffany asked.

"Yes," I said. I clumsily pulled the flats from my feet. "I told you it was nothing."

"Do you like him?" Tiffany asked, while reaching into her bag for her pantyhose.

"He isn't horrible," I said.

"Think he's cute?" Tiffany asked.

"Well he's not horribly ugly," I said.

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Relax! I was just curious."

"It's no big deal," I said.

"I just thought since you told us about Nathan, that…" Her voice trailed off.

"That what?" I asked. "You think I like boys now?"

"I was just wondering if you found them attractive is all," Tiffany said.

"Well I don't," I said.

I reached into my own bag for my skirt. To be honest, I wanted to get dressed as quickly as possible. I really wasn't in a rush, but at the same time I didn't want to give Tiffany an opportunity to tease me into oblivion again. Only she didn't seem interested in that at the moment. She seemed more interested in trying to find some meaning in me asking Dylan to join us. I should've been asking her about inviting Jillian, after her comments earlier.

"Well I would be really careful about how you handle him," Tiffany said, starting the pantyhose up her left leg. "If you don't like him in that way, don't give him the wrong impression." She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. "He also doesn't know you're a boy."

"I kind of figured as much," I said. "He kept calling me a pretty girl."

Tiffany snickered. "He what?"

"He said I was pretty," I said, blushing at divulging the information.

"Yes you are," Tiffany said. "I just can't believe he would be so bold."

"I thought it was sweet," I said.

Tiffany finished putting her pantyhose on. I could take a little liberty at watching her dress, as I had most of my clothing on already. She pulled her plum colored dress from the bag, and fidgeted with it for a moment. I watched as she slipped it on over her head, and pulled her long black hair out of the neck. She paid little attention to me watching, as she made minor adjustments to how the dress sat on her.

"Sweet as it may be," Tiffany said, "he might be expecting something more, since you invited him along with us." She looked at me with concern. "You have to be careful with boys."

"Why did you invite Jillian?" I asked.

Tiffany sighed. "I really shouldn't say." She retrieved her shoes from her bag, and sat down with them.

"You know you can tell me," I said, grabbing my sweater from my own bag. "I won't say anything."

"You have to promise me you won't let this leave the room," Tiffany said.

"That bad?" I asked, pulling my sweater on. "I promise it won't."

Tiffany patted the bench next to her. I grabbed my Oxfords from my bag and sat down, remembering to smooth my skirt first. For some reason I found it harder to break from doing this, than actually doing it. Sometimes I found myself reaching behind to smooth my skirt, while I would have jeans on. Even worse were the times I happened to not be dressed as a girl. It created a bad habit of me rubbing my hand on my jeans, like I was wiping my hands off or something, just to cover it up in the eyes of other people.

Tiffany spoke in a hushed voice. "Jillian is like the worst case loner. She comes off as pushy and even bitchy at times. It takes a very long time to get to know her, from what I hear." She held out her left shoe and observed it for a moment. "Some girls say she isn't worth getting to know even after getting past all of that."

"Is there something wrong with her?" I asked.

"I think," Tiffany said, "and this is just me talking, that she's a passionate person. I don't think she realizes that trying to be the best student, or little miss prude all of the time, is actually costing her in the long run. They say she doesn't even enjoy doing normal stuff like hanging in the mall." She stooped down to slip her shoe on. "I just think she needs a friend who isn't afraid to knock her down to earth."

"And you want to try it?" I asked, laughing a bit as I slipped on my shoes.

"I don't know if I want to," Tiffany said. "I'd just like to get to know her a bit."

"Well…" I paused to lace up my shoes. "I'll help if you need me to." I sat back up to look at her. "Just help me get out of my situation with Dylan… please?"

"Okay," Tiffany said, with a slight giggle. "Just don't hold his hand tonight, or kiss him."

I furrowed my brow at Tiffany, as she started giggling uncontrollably. She really didn't make me mad, but I stood and huffed around the changing stall like she had made me mad. I started collecting the clothes I had discarded around the room, and putting them on hangers. For the shoes, I placed them neatly in the boxes. By the time Tiffany had joined me in tidying up, we heard a knock on the door of the stall.

"Occupied," Tiffany said.

"Have you two decided on what you would like?" Casey asked.

"Oh!" Tiffany unlocked the door of the stall, and let Casey enter. "I can't really decide," she said. "I like it all."

"Well I can run prices for you," Casey said. "That might help you decide."

"If it's not too much trouble," I said, handing her the key to the stall.

"We're not busy at all out front," Casey said. "Just put this all in your bags, and bring it up to the register."

"Sure! Okay," Tiffany said.

A few minutes later, Tiffany and I were up at the register with Casey. She went through the items, and gave us the sales prices on them all. The only things not on sale were the sandals Tiffany wore, and the boots I wore. Tiffany loved the sandals though, and they basically bottomed out her list when she talked Casey into letting her keep them. She ended up with the jeans, bolero jacket, sandals and Casey even let her keep the dress.

When it became my turn, I wanted to initially keep it all. I soon realized it would be way over my limit, so I had to make some tough decisions. Naturally I kept the ballet flats, as I could not get enough shoes. I decided on both tops, and the leather skirt, which left me within five dollars of my limit. Casey then surprised me, by throwing in the boots and socks to go with them. She smiled as she suggested we could share the boots.

By the time we made it out of the store, and headed for the food court, my legs did not want to carry me anymore. Tiffany appeared to be tired as well, as she leaned against the rail of the escalator for support. We got down to the bottom and walked the short distance to the food court. It seemed like everyone I knew had congregated there tonight.

The older kids; Justin, Nathan, Kate, Rebecca and Lynne were all at one table. At another table sat Dylan, along with Tawny, Megan and Vanessa. The three of them had finally come out of hiding long enough to make an appearance. I still hadn't seen Rachel that night, so I didn't know what she was up to, or little did I care. She was like Danielle in many ways; very interested in all things gossip.

"Keep some space between yourself and Dylan," Tiffany whispered in my ear. "Try to stay friendly, but don't flirt."

"Got it," I said.

"There's our two models," Nathan said, giving us a mock camera gesture.

"I can't believe you two got to do that," Rebecca said.

Kate shook her head. "They didn't even have stuff like that when we were your age."

"Yep," Lynne said. "You two are some lucky bitches."

"I'd say watch the language in front of the ladies," Tawny said, looking at her sister. "But it's a supposed lady," she held up her fingers to make quotation marks, "swearing like a sailor tonight?"

"Whatev' skank," Lynne said. "Looks like you're walking home tonight."

"Right," Tawny said, dragging out the "I" sound.

"Let her have her fun," Megan said, putting her arm around Tawny's. "We had ours tonight."

"Ooh," Kate said. "Sassy." She smiled at Megan. "I like her."

"I don't even wanna hear," Lynne said.

Tiffany and I sat down near the table with the kids around our age. I honestly didn't have to worry about Dylan, as Vanessa had decidedly chosen to flirt to oblivion with him. In any case, I had purposefully put the table between Dylan and I, but I found it was Nathan I hadn't factored into the equation. He actually switched chairs to be closer to me.

"Leaving the big kid's table?" Justin asked.

"Hey now," Nathan said. "Don't be a hater."

If I had any amount of time to get up and change seats, it was soon cut off. Tiffany had slipped her shoes off, and very bluntly put her calves across my lap. Nobody really found it out of the ordinary either, but her boldness shocked me a bit. I tentatively placed my hands upon her nylon-clad legs, and before long I started massaging them.

Kate looked over at one point and winked at me with a knowing smile. I remembered the conversation I had with her, earlier on in the week, about this sort of thing. For a little while I got lost in the sheer enjoyment of massaging Tiffany's legs. If they were as sore as mine were, this probably put her on cloud nine. I mused at this thought, as I looked at her. Tiffany's body screamed exhaustion, but her eyes had an inattentive haze about them.

In the past few months I had learned quite a few interesting things about Tiffany. Some things were huge, like her attraction to girls, and boys who looked like girls. This had put a bit of strain in our relationship, but I realized before too long, that I would never have to worry about losing her to the typical man's man. This had taken a lot of pressure off of me, in the case of trying to be a typical guy; my stepfather's version of such.

I couldn't be that type of guy. Even with a few doses of testosterone having been administered to me, I still looked every bit as scrawny as I did last year at this time. Doing extraneous labor seemed to cause two reactions in me. One reaction was that it wore me out. The other reaction was that it showed no matter what I lifted, even repeatedly, I didn't change the structure of my body. However, Tiffany seemed more content than ever when she saw those flaws in me.

Then there were other smaller things I learned about Tiffany. I learned she had a huge foot fetish. She liked people touching her feet, and she liked to touch other girls' feet. Since there were really no willing girls around for her to try it with, she had grown quite fond of playing with me. In that respect, I grew to have a fetish for it too. As my massage brought my hands closer to Tiffany's feet, I could tell that even through her tiredness, this was completely turning her on.

I secretly wished it was me in her place. Almost as if reading my mind, I felt my left foot being swept up into Nathan's lap. My eyes grew wider as I abruptly turned to face him. Everyone around us continued to fill the immediate area with senseless banter. It became all so distant, as I felt Nathan's strong hands start to knead the muscles of my calf. My eyes shut for a moment, and when I opened them again, they carried the same dazed stupor as Tiffany's eyes.

"Does that feel good?" Nathan asked, his voice quieter than the roar of our friends around us.

I nodded, unsure if I could even talk at this point. It had been almost two months since Nathan had touched my legs, and I had forgotten how good his touch felt. His hands felt so different from Tiffany's, and not just because he was a guy. The gentleness in his method was about the same, but he had this part of him that took great care in what he was doing. I couldn't quite place where the difference came in, but it felt amazing.

"I bet your legs are sore from standing in that window all night," Nathan said.

"Extremely," I said.

I didn't even care if I had an audience at this point. If Tiffany didn't mind having me massage her feet and legs in public, then I didn't care if Nathan did it for me. It may have looked odd to some people, but they could get over it. If anything, it looked like a group of friends who showed concern for one another, and that's what it was all about. Not to mention that Nathan's hands and fingers were like little magic joy bringers. I only hoped it felt this good for Tiffany.

"Why don't we just start a foot massage chain going?" Kate asked, jokingly. She had taken notice of our little scene, and sought to tease us about it.

"Put 'em up here," Justin said to Kate, while patting his thigh.

I could tell it caught Kate a bit off guard, as she turned to face my brother. "Really?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Sure!" Justin said. "Why not?"

It didn't take long at all for Kate to take my brother up on his offer. I admit I felt a twinge of jealousy when she put her socked feet up on his thigh. My brother wasted no time in getting his hands on her in any way he could. He had a crush on Kate for as long as I could remember. Her being a senior, and him a junior, made it a little harder for him to get with her. I knew if he took interest in her feet, he might have a chance. She loved the attention, and ate it up.

"Did you two have fun tonight?" Jillian asked. She had walked up behind me, and startled me a bit.

"Best time ever!" Tiffany said, answering for the both of us.

"I'm glad," Jillian said, sitting down between us. "Casey really liked you two. She said you were easy to work with."

"They were just talking about how they'd love to do it again," Nathan said, an obvious lie.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Jillian said.

The next thing I knew, Nathan had started undoing the laces of my shoe. He slowly slipped the shoe off of my foot, holding my ankle to support my leg. Out of all of us, I swore I was receiving the best treatment. Before long, Nathan set about kneading the muscles in my foot. His hands felt amazing, sliding over the nylon. He glanced at the soft carnation pink color of my toenails, and then smiled at me.

"Cute color," he said.

"Thanks," I said, with a noticeable blush.

I took my eyes off of Nathan, to look around our group of friends. Vanessa and Dylan were involved with their own quiet conversation, while Justin and Kate appeared to be flirting. Lynne jumped back and forth between flirting with young men walking by, and talking with Rebecca and Nathan. Tiffany thought I was obviously busy with Nathan, and started her own whispered conversation with Jillian. Meanwhile, Megan and Tawny were sharing what appeared to be pillow talk amongst themselves.

I closed my eyes for a moment, drifting away from all the crowd noise and chitchat around me. Nathan's hands continued to work their magic on my left foot. I secretly hoped he'd soon move to my other foot. As I thought about how good his hands would feel on the sorest of my two feet, I felt a different kind of sensation on my right leg. My eyes shot open to see a small nylon-clad foot running up and down my calf. The wearer had on black pantyhose.

My eyes ran up the leg, tracing it to the owner. To my surprise, the leg belonged to Megan. She had a mischievous look in her almond shaped eyes, and a teasing little smile upon her face. Next to her, Tawny whispered sweet little nothings in her ear. Every so often they would both giggle, but Tawny never looked where Megan's gaze fell. Did she have any idea what Megan was doing?

Megan dropped her leg from mine, and I glanced away in shock. As I peered out past the fountain, I saw two familiar people. Jason was walking with Tracy, and they were headed our way. I started to panic, but Tracy stopped walking. She pointed at our group, and Jason said something to her after looking over at us. He gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek, and then walked the other way.

I sighed, and Nathan took it as a sign he was doing a good job. He concentrated in the spot where he was at, and it felt so good. It also felt good to avoid two dilemmas in one night. I had taken on the challenge of being a female model, and somehow avoided countless people who could have been in the mall that night. Yet I survived, at least for now I did. I didn't know how long I could keep this up, but for now, I was happy. Everyone around me seemed happy as well.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 3

On the following Monday, I could be found pacing the floor of one of Doctor Dinesh's offices. The afternoon sun caused light to trickle in across the plain gray carpet. It was ugly carpet, a modest office grade, and felt rough beneath me. Rajan, as I called him, asked me to wait in here, and make myself comfortable. So I hadn't replaced my shoes, and chose to walk the floor with my white ankle socks on.

This had been the longest appointment so far at his office. Surprisingly enough, I was rushed right in, as nobody seemed to be here before me. I guess gender identity disorder wasn't the most popular practice to get into. Rajan said it was a growing field, and he had sought out a growing city to set up his practice. I asked him how many cases he had here, but he brushed the question off by claiming he had a few.

When I got here, Rajan's nurse, the lovely Jennifer, had taken my measurements again. I had grown exactly one inch since my appointment in June, leaving me at five feet even. Though I couldn't place where my extra weight had registered from, I had gained a few pounds. I still felt on the runt side of my classmates weighing only ninety-seven pounds. When Jennifer had read it off to me, I mused inwardly about being one pound shy of a ninety-eight pound weakling.

Tom had brought me straight here from school, so I hadn't had a chance to change. Both Jennifer and Rajan pointed out that it was the first time they had seen me in male attire. My baggy hand-me-down jeans caught on my heels every so often, while my long-sleeved gray shirt looked like it could fit another half a person inside. Rajan seemed a bit surprised that I wore lavender bikini briefs beneath it all.

I turned away from the window and started to walk around the office. My bottom felt stiff and sore from the latest shot, having received it only a few minutes prior. Even though I shared my doubts with Rajan, about the testosterone treatments not working, he assured me that it would take more time. After another hands-on examination of my genitals, Rajan had Jennifer take my blood again for testing, and said he'd have results by the end of October.

As I wandered back behind a large leather couch, I studied the diplomas on the wall. Rajan had quite a few, mostly from the University of Nevada School of Medicine. I had learned he was a licensed psychiatrist along with a few other credentials. It put my mind slightly at ease knowing he had the papers to back up what he was doing. Though I wondered if there wasn't someone else out there more qualified. I perused the medical books on his bookcase.

"Find anything you want to check out?" Rajan asked, as he came into the office.

"I think they'd be over my head," I said, turning to see him smiling.

"Anything's possible if you apply yourself," Rajan said. "I just need a moment to look over your file. Then I'd like to talk with you for a little while."

"Okay," I said.

"You can sit, stand, lie down," Rajan said. "Whatever you feel comfortable with."

I nodded with a subtle half smile. He always said the same things. Rajan slumped down into a high-backed black leather chair behind a large dark wood desk. He busied himself for a moment with his computer, entering a few things from my chart onto it. I watched him for a moment. Over time he had become a comfortable and familiar face.

Rajan had strong masculine features. His parents had come to the United States from India before he was born, so although he had a traditional name, his slight accent seemed hardly noticeable. He actually had a deeper, more relaxing voice, like a George Clooney type. Oddly enough, he actually looked like the Indian version of Clooney, but with dark brown eyes, bushier eyebrows and thicker black hair.

"The good news is you're still healthy physically," Rajan said, as he typed away at his keyboard. "Do you stay active?"

"Does walking around the mall count?" I asked with a nervous smile.

Rajan looked up at me, and let out a slight chuckle. "Well, people do walk around the mall for exercise, but do you do that often?"

"Not really."

"I'd like to recommend you get out at least twice a week to jog or run," Rajan said. "Three times would be even better, but you can work up to that."

"I guess I could jog with Nathan," I said.

"Your brother's friend, right?"

"Yes," I said, amazed he even remembered.

"How is he?" Rajan asked.

"He's good," I said. "I got to hang out with him Friday night."

"Were you dressed?"

"Actually I was," I said. "I had an interesting night."

"Would you like to discuss it?" Rajan asked. "It's up to you."

"Well it all started Tuesday," I said. "Tiffany and I got this letter to meet someone at the mall on Friday, only the letter didn't say who it was from or anything. They hinted that they knew about my secret."

"Tiffany your girlfriend?" Rajan asked, looking at my chart.

I nodded, now realizing his memory trick was just good record keeping. "We decided to go anyway, despite the possible dangers," I said.

"Indeed," Rajan said. "You both could have been in serious danger. Did this person know about your condition?"

"At first I thought they did," I said, "but it turns out what they thought was our secret wasn't actually about my condition. She just thought she had cornered two lesbians."

"So it was a girl who gave the letter?"

"Yes," I said. "She ended up dragging us to the mall to help out her family's store." I smiled as I recalled the evening. "They have girls around our age model clothing for them, like live mannequins, and let them keep some of the clothes."

"Sounds like fun," Rajan said. "You did this all as your female persona?"

"Yes."

"And nobody was the wiser?"

"Only those who already knew," I said. "They didn't say anything though."

Rajan nodded, as his eyes fell to my chart. He scribbled on a notepad for a moment, as I stood there quietly. As he continued to write, I strolled back over to the window. I stopped in front of it and stared out. The wind seemed pretty strong that day, but it was still pretty outside. Huge puffy clouds skirted across the rich blue sky.

"How's your home life?" Rajan asked.

"Good I guess," I said.

"Is Tom still on your case?"

"He's been pretty nice to me lately," I said. "He even bought a diary for me to write my feelings in." I smiled as I recalled the small gift.

"Do you use it?"

"I wrote in it all morning Saturday," I said. "About the night before."

"Did you find it…" Rajan paused to find the right question. "Was it hard to record your thoughts and feelings, or did you find it comforting?"

"A little of both," I said, watching a young woman walk by outside. "I thought it was hard to start, but once I got going, I didn't want to stop."

"So you and Tom get along now?"

"Better than we have," I said. "I mean… everyone has arguments at times."

"Indeed," Rajan said. "I'm glad to hear you two are getting along." He paused for a moment. "How about your mother?"

"She's the same as always," I said. "Except she's been a bit busier at work."

"Does this upset you?"

"A little I guess," I said. "She's a little hard to talk to about some things."

"How so?" Rajan asked.

"She…" I watched a few passing cars. "It just feels like she always takes the female side of things. It's hard to explain."

"Take your time," Rajan said. "I'd like to hear this."

"Like for example," I blurted out, without thinking of any particular direction to take it. I thought for a moment, before coming up with something. "Say I wore something girly, and she asked why, and I responded because it's comfortable." I paused for a moment. "My mother would instantly think I felt comfortable wearing it because I'm actually a girl deep down. Yet, I could be simply wearing the clothing for comfort."

"Ah I see," Rajan said. "So she overanalyzes your choices, thinking they're always a reflection on how you feel inwardly?"

"Right," I said, having to process what he asked.

"Are there anymore examples of this behavior?"

"Well," I said. "The other night we watched some sappy Lifetime movie, and I only watched it because I thought the girl in it was cute. My mother thought we were bonding on some womanly level, or something."

I turned to face Rajan. Somehow I thought this would amuse him to the point of laughter. He simply nodded at what I said, and scribbled a few notes. I guess I had grown used to any girlish tendencies I displayed, being mocked by peers. Rajan simply listened, and wrote. I had found very few people like this, willing to listen and understand me.

"Is your brother any different around you?" Rajan asked.

"He hasn't changed much," I said. "Though he's a bit more protective."

"More so than you mentioned last time?"

"No," I said. "About the same. Just a protective older brother."

"You said a while back, that you were concerned about him turning into someone like Tom," Rajan said. "Have you seen that occur, or has he reversed course?"

"Reversed in a big way," I said. "He more closely resembles Nathan now more than anyone."

"Do you still think about Nathan?"

"Sometimes," I said, "but I never want to act on any of it."

"Are you scared of rejection?"

"Not really," I said. "I just think he was right about the timing and all. I'm a bit young still."

"Indeed," Rajan said. "You'll have plenty of time later, if you wish to pursue things of that nature." He looked up from my file. "I just asked, because he was the first person you mentioned today."

"He was?"

Rajan nodded with a smile. "You mentioned jogging with him."

"Oh…"

I stepped over in front of the couch. For a moment, I tried to remember what exactly I had said about Nathan. I hope it didn't seem like I wanted to rip his clothes off, as that was clearly not the case. Nathan was just a nice guy I thought about all the time. If anything, there was a mild attraction, but nothing major. Before I knew it, I found myself sinking into the large cushions of the couch. It actually felt more comfortable to sit, even after my shot, rather than walk around.

"It's okay to have feelings for someone," Rajan said. "Even if those feelings are completely at a level far below attraction, love, or intimacy." He paused for a brief moment. "It's healthy and normal to have stronger feelings for someone you feel can be there for you. From what I've gathered, Nathan is a good friend and an easily accessible shoulder to cry on. Not that you necessarily cry on anyone's shoulder. Just in a manner of speaking."

"Well I guess if you put it that way," I said. "I guess I do have feelings for him."

"Understandably so," Rajan said. "Nathan would probably be the type to stick around. That is if what you tell me about him is accurate."

"I've got no reason to lie about it," I said.

"I'm not saying you are," Rajan said, and quickly changed the subject. "How are you doing at school?"

"The same," I said.

"Any new friends?"

"Sort of," I said, "but it's another girl."

"Who is she?"

"The girl who gave Tiffany the letter," I said. "We sort of hung out after, but she's an eighth grader." I sighed. "She thinks I'm a girl though."

"Ah," Rajan said. "You find this upsetting?"

"Well," I said. "I don't like to lie to people, or hide this secret I have. I feel torn though, because if some people knew about it… well… it could really change things."

"I understand," Rajan said, "but it could be more harmful in the long-term to hold back on telling them."

"It seems like the more I try to be honest with people, the more people I find myself having to be honest with," I said. "It's like they just keep popping up, and I constantly have to reveal my secret to someone."

"I see," Rajan said. "In respect to that, are you still finding it difficult to bond with other boys?"

"They'd just as soon pick on me," I said, looking at my knees. "I still get called names at school."

"Have any of them done physical harm to you?" Rajan asked.

"Not really," I said. "A few push me around."

"I'm sorry that's happening," Rajan said. "How do you feel when they call you names?"

"I've learned to tune it out for the most part," I said. "I mean… it's still hurtful, but they're just words." I sighed. "It's just…"

"Take your time," Rajan said, after a long silence.

"Well when they do it around other people," I said, "sometimes those people get into it too." I looked at the window. "Nobody really comes to my defense, or stops it."

"Have you talked to the teachers, or principal?"

"That never helps. They'd just tease me more after telling on them," I said. "I figure if it just stays teasing, I can try to handle it myself."

"Do you think it would be worse if you were a girl?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "Megan seems to do okay with it."

"Megan Seong?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Do you get to talk to Megan about these things?"

"Not as much as I'd like to," I said.

Rajan sat up straighter. "I'm not allowed to discuss other cases," he said, "but if I think it will help both of you, which in this case I think it will, I feel I should offer you a little insight in regards to Megan." He paused for a moment. "Megan is deeply introverted when it comes to her condition."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"If you're wanting to know more about her," Rajan said. "I might suggest finding a long, quiet moment to talk to her about it." He looked a bit concerned about divulging as little information as he had. "A few brief talks, while surrounded by the group, won't bring much out of her I'm afraid."

I sat in silence for a moment. My mind now focused on possible ways to get Megan alone. Even our longest talks were no more than ten minutes. Rajan was right too. They were usually squeezed into the middle of a girls' night out. Normally they didn't garnish very much information about her condition either.

Of course I didn't know much about her. What had I been thinking? That wasn't any way to get the answers I was looking for. I had to find a quiet moment to share with Megan. It had to be a moment like Nathan and I had shared in the park. Damn it! Why did my mind go back to Nathan again?

"What are you thinking about?" Rajan asked.

I shifted nervously. "Honestly?"

"Preferably," Rajan said.

"I was thinking about Nathan again," I said, adding a small sigh after.

Rajan smiled. "Anything in particular?"

"I was just thinking about how he talked to me at the park," I said. "It was quiet there, and I was thinking maybe something like that to talk to Megan."

"That actually sounds nice," Rajan said. "Though I'm afraid park weather is shortly slipping away." He looked out the window.

"I hate winter," I said, not knowing why I had said it.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Just the cold," I said.

"No other particular reason?" Rajan asked.

"None that I can recall," I said.

"I thought maybe there was another reason," Rajan said. "I'm a little surprised though. Usually kids love winter. With the snowball fights and sledding."

"I was never really good at either," I said, with a slight chuckle.

"Do you think stereotypical hang-ups like those keep you from having fun?" Rajan asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said.

"I'm saying," Rajan said. "Do you think you have to be good at something to have fun?"

"Well it sure helps," I said.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't think anyone wants to be the loser," I said.

"Well sometimes it's not about winning," Rajan said. "You shouldn't let your physical characteristics keep you from having fun." He folded his hands together, and leaned across his desk. "I'd like to discuss your treatments a little now."

"Okay," I said.

"We took some blood today," Rajan said. "We'll do tests on that to determine changes in hormone levels, and also multiple other factors. Basically we want to see what affect the first two months of treatment has had on your body."

I nodded solemnly.

"That being said," Rajan said. "We'll keep an eye on developmental things, like growth and signs of male secondary sex characteristics." He sat back and looked at my chart. "Everything checks out for you physically. So I see no reason why treatment can't continue, but we'll wait for the blood work to come back. Then we can determine what to do with dosage and other factors."

"What if…" I choked out while finding a break in Rajan's explanation.

Rajan looked up at me. "Go on."

"What if I wanted to stop?" I asked.

"Stop treatment?" Rajan looked concerned. "I'd ask you what the reason was for the change of heart."

"I like…" I glanced at the window. "What if I wanted to stay like this for a while?"

"Are you thinking you made the wrong choice?"

My eyes became misty as I turned to look at Rajan. "I may have made my decision while only thinking about my family," I said. "The truth is, I like being able to switch back and forth." I looked at the floor. "I just thought maybe if I could stay like this as long as possible…"

"That maybe by your own volition you'd come to a sound decision?" Rajan asked.

I nodded quietly.

"Well we can certainly discuss it," Rajan said. "However, I'd like to wait for your blood work to come back."

"Really?"

"Yes," Rajan said. "I'd have to determine what changes have already occurred, and would possibly have to taper off your current treatment."

"I would like that," I said.

"If you still feel this way next time we meet," Rajan said, "I'll be more than happy to discuss options with you." He rubbed his chin. "Why don't you keep track of how you feel about it day to day in your diary? That way you can get a somewhat objective opinion on where you stand."

"Okay," I said. "Do I need to bring it with me?"

"No," Rajan said. "That's not necessary. Just look at it before you come in, and try to determine where you see yourself the majority of the time."

"I can do that," I said.

"I've already talked to Tom, and got you scheduled for another appointment November third," Rajan said. "It's the Monday after Halloween." He looked up at me with a knowing smile. "The blood work should be back from the lab well before then, but I want you to enjoy the holiday. I know this will throw off your treatment schedule, but we may change it completely by then anyhow."

Why did he have to say Halloween? I had enough to worry about. Now I would be thinking about the stupid costume Tiffany picked out to surprise me with. Her hints were as vague as possible to keep me thinking about it. I didn't even have a clue about what I was going to wear. If I couldn't figure that out, how in the world could I figure this out?

"I hope we can get everything straightened out for you Bailey," Rajan said. "Any plans for Halloween?"

I could tell he was trying to get me to leave on a bright note. "I'm going to a party with some of my friends," I said. "Nothing really big."

"Got a costume picked out?"

"Sort of," I said.

"Halloween's the best holiday to be someone or something you're not," Rajan said, standing from his desk and stepping around in front of it. "Might as well have some fun with it."

"I guess so," I said, slipping my sneakers on without untying them. "Though it's hard to figure out how to be something you're not, when you're not sure what you are to start with."

"Just have fun, and stay safe," Rajan said. "I'll see you in November Bailey."

"Thanks," I said, scooting out of the couch. "See you then."

Rajan extended his hand, and I shook it halfheartedly. He held his other hand behind me, though not touching my back, as he ushered me outside of the office. I stepped out into the small inner waiting room. They had it decorated a bit more inviting than the larger reception area out front. It actually boasted a comfortable red couch and bigger plush chairs to sit in.

Tom stood off to one side with Jennifer. Her neatly manicured hands, complete with French tipped nails, moved around in overly animated gestures. It looked like she was directing air traffic as she talked to Tom. Her head joined in, bobbing up and down along with some of her gestures. I watched the loose strands of her red hair, that weren't tied up, bounce around like gently coiled springs.

"So I would suggest more fruit and vegetables. Especially dark, leafy greens," Jennifer said. "Peaches are a favorite of mine. Milk or other low fat dairy products."

"Hey Bailey," Tom said, after noticing me come out of Rajan's office.

Jennifer spun around. "Hey sport," she said. "You all set?"

"Yes," I said, perhaps displaying, a bit too boldly, my intrigue with their conversation.

"Well you be safe for Halloween," Jennifer said. "I'll see you next month. Okay?"

I nodded to her, and watched her walk down the hall to another room. "What were you talking about?" I asked my stepfather.

"Oh," Tom said. "I asked her if there was anything we could do to help you out at home." He sighed. "Basically she just gave me the diet and exercise riot act."

"Rajan said I should start jogging," I said.

"That's not a bad idea," Tom said, while opening the door out to the reception area for me. "A little exercise never hurt anybody."

I laughed inwardly at Tom's statement. He should have tacked on "but me" to the end of it. Tom happened to be the epitome of laziness outside of work, and in general seemed very anti-exercise. My mother had several workout tapes at her disposal, but she seldom got time to use them anymore. Tom stayed away from those like they had some incurable disease attached to the casing. He deemed them "too girly to take seriously" at one point.

"I thought maybe I could jog with Nathan," I said.

"Well you can ask him," Tom said. "You hungry?" he asked, as we settled into the seat of his work truck.

"Not really," I said, pulling at the seat buckle.

Tom's truck used to be a shiny silver Ford. He never took the time to take care of it though. Sure, every so often, on a sunny day, he'd get outside and wash it. As for the most part, he kept it firmly looking like a work truck. I didn't care for the thing, as it rode rough and sounded hollow and cold inside. The silver appeared dull now, almost gray. Unfortunately, if it lasted long enough, it would be mine when I turned sixteen. Tom had already said as much, as he wanted a new truck at that time.

If I had gotten to choose, I would've chosen Tom's 1988 Chevy Caprice. It was somewhat ugly, with the box shape and copper color, but at least it wasn't this truck. However, Tom had given it to my brother, Justin, when he turned sixteen. Justin became one of the lucky juniors to actually get to drive to school. Most of his junior friends didn't have a car, so he was pretty fortunate to have even an old one.

I also couldn't turn down my own personal vehicle. Even if it was ugly, I would be able to escape in it. Maybe I could even doll it up. The interior, as well as the exterior, needed a lot of work. Once black seats had faded into a dusty dark gray, and the vinyl cracked and sometimes pinched your legs. The gun rack on the back window would definitely have to go. At least he didn't let our dog, Buckles, ride in the front anymore. Tom had made an insulated box, that fit in the bed, for him to ride in when he went hunting. So the interior did smell better after a time.

"How about a Sprite?" Tom asked. "I'm going to stop and get a cheeseburger."

"That's fine I guess," I said.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," I said.

Tom looked at me for a moment. I saw his exasperated expression from the corner of my eye. He let out a frustrated sigh as he turned away. After starting the truck, and putting the gear selector in reverse, he glanced at me again. I couldn't tell if he was mad, or just upset that I wouldn't talk to him. He usually thought the worst in every situation.

"Look," Tom said. "You don't have to talk to me about your problems." He put his arm behind my shoulders as he backed out. "I just hope you're talking about them to someone." Before he pulled his arm away, he gave me a jostle, like a half-hug. "Regardless of what you might think, I actually do care about you."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just thinking about something Rajan said." I paused, not wanting to talk about it. "A sprite sounds good."

"Wanna share some fries?"

"Sure," I said, looking at him with a subtle smile.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you about Friday," Tom said. "Did you get the mall out of your system?"

"I don't think that will happen for a long time," I said. "We had fun though."

"Well that's good," Tom said. "What did you all end up doing?"

"Mostly talked," I said.

"Your mom said you brought in a shopping bag," Tom said. "I hope you didn't blow your allowance in one spot."

"Actually that was free stuff," I found myself blurting out.

"Oh…" We pulled up to a traffic light. "How'd you manage that?" he asked.

Tom seemed in a pleasant mood. I thought if he was this interested, he wouldn't be mad if I told the truth about Friday. The one thing that really pissed Tom off happened to be lying to him. Though at the same time, I really didn't want to explain my adventure to him. He just wasn't the type of person I felt comfortable talking to about it. I decided to give it a shot anyway. He knew I went out as a girl that night.

"There's a new place at the mall called 'Tweens," I said. "They sell clothes to boys and girls around my age." I studied Tom's unflinching face. "Mostly they target kids who are ten to thirteen."

"Oh I get it," Tom said, chuckling a bit. "They're between kid and teenager." He glanced at me. "Well the name makes sense now, but how you got free clothes doesn't."

We pulled out into the intersection to turn left. Apparently we were bypassing the usual after-appointment place, McDonald's, to the right. Tom got into the right lane. His intended fast food restaurant of choice became evident, as I looked at the Wendy's sign ahead. I thought I should keep from stalling as much as possible, and just let it all out like a flood.

"Once a month they pick out some kids to model their clothes, or go around handing out coupons in the mall," I said. "Tiffany and I got chosen to model, because someone saw us at the pool party." I paused, cringing and expecting him to lash out at me, but he didn't even say a word. "They don't pay, but they let us keep some of the clothes we model."

"Sounds…" Tom appeared to be mulling it over, as we turned into the Wendy's parking lot. "Like a good deal," he finally said. "I assume you stayed a girl to do it?"

"Yes," I said. "You're not mad are you?"

"Why would I be mad?"

Why would he be mad? I could think of a hundred and one reasons why he would be mad. Seeing as how Tom got pissed the first time he saw me dressed like a girl, and forced me to wear panties all summer. Why would he be mad? I could feel a bit of anger building inside of me, but I held my tongue. There was no reason to get into trouble after all of this.

"I just thought…" I said. "You know? With the summer and all."

"It's just a relapse," Tom said. "I'm sure it's nothing, really, and besides…" He glanced at me before rolling down his window to order. "I said I would let you run with this if you would see Doctor Dinesh. Sure you don't want anything else?"

I shook my head, and he turned toward the speaker. For a moment I sat and thought this over, as Tom just ordered a cheeseburger meal with a Sprite. Obviously the point of meeting a specialist was finding out which direction to take. Though Tom, along with others, could definitely give their input to the situation, I realized it was ultimately my choice. What I struggled with was the fact of not knowing which choice would be right for me in the long run.

"Did you at least have fun?" Tom asked, after pulling away from the speaker.

"I had a great time," I said. "I'd actually like to do it again."

"Well then you should," Tom said.

Our conversation was put on hold, as Tom paid for our food. He handed me the drink, and put the bag of food next to my school bag on the seat. I quickly found the straw and put it in my drink, glad to have something to sip on after all of the talking. As Tom drove away, and turned us toward home, there was an awkward silence between us. I assumed he'd have twenty more questions for me.

"Susan is working late again tonight," Tom said. "So you can make yourself a sandwich or something later, whenever you feel like eating."

"Okay," I said.

"I assume I won't be seeing you much tonight," Tom said. "I'm having some guys over for the football game."

"Oh," I said. "I'll probably just hang out in my room."

Tom chuckled. "I figured." He glanced over at me. "Don't you have some guys you can hang out with?"

"No," I said, almost as quiet as a whisper.

"What about the Stanley's kid down the street?"

"He's in the fifth grade," I said.

"Oh…" Tom said. "Too cool for him now huh?"

"We just don't have that much in common," I said.

"Well I'm sure you'll make some more friends soon enough," Tom said.

"What's Justin doing tonight?"

"He's going to Nathan's house for the game." Tom slapped the steering wheel. "Hey! Why don't you ask him to tag along?"

"I don't know," I said. "You said not to hang around Justin and his football friends."

"I said don't be roughhousing with them," Tom said. "You should ask him at least."

"I'll think about it," I said.

Think about it I did, but I never asked. After polishing off my part of the fries, I retreated to my room to finish my homework. In reality, I didn't have that much, but I made Tom think I did, so I could get some alone time. He spent most of his time getting ready for his company, and I really didn't feel like tidying up the house. They usually just left the living room trashed anyway.

In the tranquil solitude of my room, I got bored. Once I had finished my homework, there really wasn't much else to do. After running through all the usual things to do, I found myself settling down on my bed, with everything needed to paint my toenails a pretty metallic true blue. I pulled my socks off and cleaned the old polish off. Before long I had my toes in spacers, and was carefully applying the blue polish.

After a bit of mental debate, I decided to paint my fingernails too. I figured I'd be in my room the rest of the night, and nobody would see them. In fact, nobody would see me if I dressed up, but I didn't know for sure if I wanted to do that. There could be some emergency where I would have to be seen by my stepfather's company. Nail polish was one thing, but trying to explain away dressing like a girl was quite another.

I didn't even hear my brother get home. Maybe I got lost in what I was doing, or the fumes got to my head, but somehow I missed him. It wasn't until I heard him call out he was leaving, and closing the front door, that I realized he had been home. I hurried over to my window, and looked out. As I looked down, I could see my brother walking up the street toward Nathan's house.

Oddly enough there happened to be ample daylight still. I turned to look at my trusty digital clock, and it read six o'clock. The game didn't start for another two hours. Maybe he wanted to do something before it, or get away from Tom. I could understand the latter, but I still felt bad about not getting a chance to see Justin before he left. I had actually considered suffering through the football game to spend some time with him.

I continued to stare out the window for a moment. My brother disappeared from view, and my mother pulled into the driveway. She struggled with the door, finally kicking it open. Her gracefulness returned as she exited the vehicle. I don't think she noticed me watching at all. She shut the car door, and walked right up the stairs to our front door. I thought about tapping on the window and waving, but it seemed less childish to just go greet her.

"I'm home!" my mother shouted up the stairs.

"Hey!" Tom said. "You're home early."

"We got a little caught up today," my mother said. "So we decided not to stay late."

"Well Justin took off to Nathan's for the night," Tom said, "and Bailey's in his room."

"Actually I'm right here," I said, stepping out of the hallway.

"Oh good," my mother said, looking up at me. "Could you go to the…" She stopped and looked at my feet. "Oh… you don't have any shoes on."

"What is it?"

"I left a box of papers in the trunk," she said. "I can get it though."

"No," I said, hurrying down the stairs. "I'll get it."

I reached her at the bottom of the stairs, and gave her a hug. She played with my hair for a moment afterwards, while looking me over. Then she lifted my hands up. She spent a little while looking at my fingernails. Finally she lifted her head and smiled at me. I returned the smile.

"Going somewhere tonight?" she asked, gesturing at the nails.

I shook my head. "Just felt like it."

"Well I like the color," she said. She dropped my hands. "I thought maybe you were doing something with the girls to get away from the house tonight."

"I thought maybe I could go to Nathan's," I said. "Tom said it was okay."

"I don't care if you do," she said. "You'll be right down the street."

She handed me her keys. Then she stepped out of my way, and started up the stairs. I opened the front door. After a quick check to see if there were any onlookers, I scurried down the steps to my mother's car. The concrete felt cold beneath my feet. I started to regret my decision to come out barefoot.

It didn't stop me from my objective though. I reached my mother's car and unlocked the trunk. The box in her trunk wasn't as heavy as I thought it would be. It only had a few folders full of papers inside of it. I grabbed the box, shut the trunk, and quickly made it back into the house. Tom and my mother were talking when I came in.

"I'm not sure," my mother said. "I can ask."

"Well I think it would be smart to find out," Tom said.

My mother heard me come in, and stepped over to the top of the stairs. "Were you going to go over to Nathan's dressed as a girl?" she asked me. Her questioned seemed rather blunt.

I set the box down in the entryway. "I hadn't thought about it," I said. "Probably not." I started up the stairs.

"Well we don't care if you do," my mother said.

Tom stepped over next to her. "The guys are going to be here in a little more than an hour," he said. "We figured you wouldn't want them to see you dressed."

In the world of Tom's backwards speak, I knew what this really meant. It wasn't that I didn't want them to see me dressed. I didn't care as far as that went. Sure, they would give me one hell of a hard time about it. However, it wouldn't be like they'd gang up on me and beat me down in front of Tom. At least I didn't think they would.

The truth was, Tom didn't want the guys to see me dressed. I had known this since I started doing it. In fact, the first time Tom caught me dressed, he didn't want the guys at his local hardware store to see me. What hurt the most, was that he couldn't just come out and say it. He couldn't say he was embarrassed about my behavior, in front of the guys, or anyone he knew for that matter. He couldn't even say it to me.

"You wouldn't be mad if I wanted to?" I asked.

"Heavens no," my mother said.

"Just make up your mind quick," Tom said, before walking off.

My mother stood and looked at me for a moment. She and I had been in this weird dodgy state lately. We still talked about school, my doctor visits, my friends and general life. However, when it came to the subject of my girlish side, she seemed interested, but wasn't as pushy about it as before. To complicate matters, I hardly wanted to discuss it with her. In my mind, she still had helped compound the problem over the summer, and she just didn't understand why I felt like doing it sometimes.

"Why don't you take a quick shower?" she asked. "Maybe it'll help you decide."

I nodded, a bit absentmindedly, as I came to the top of the stairs. My mother turned into the kitchen without saying another word. If it had been the old way, she would have jumped at the opportunity to make me all girly for the night. I was mostly to blame for the way we were now. It was me that pushed her away. I basically told her to butt out of my life.

I dragged myself to my bedroom. The fading sun illuminated my dresser. All the glittery and sparkly feminine things I'd collected came to life on top. There wasn't any need to hide them, as I never had anyone in my room that didn't know about my other side. Since I needed permission to have anyone over anyway, I figured if I had to hide them, I'd have plenty of time to do it.

I stepped over to my dresser and opened up the second drawer from the top. After a bit of rummaging, I settled on a pair of pale pink panties covered with strawberries. As with most of my other panties, they were bikini cut. I very seldom got another style, as I had taken favor with bikini cut, but I did have a few other styles in my collection. For some reason, I found myself staring in a daze at my drawer full of feminine undergarments.

"I like those," my mother said from my doorway.

I jumped at her voice. "Mom!" I said, turning to face her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you, but it's not like you're naked." She folded her arms across her chest. "And the door was open, so you can't yell at me for not knocking."

"What do you want?" I asked, closing the drawer to my dresser.

"I just wanted to talk to you," she said. "Before you run off." She frowned. "I hardly get to see you."

"Oh…" I said, walking over to look in my closet. "What did you want to talk about?"

My mother walked over and sat on my bed. "I heard you were a little down after your appointment today," she said.

I flipped through a few shirts. "Mom…" I said, turning to face her. "Do you want a daughter?"

She sat up straight. A long silence filled the room. My mother looked like her head was about to explode, from all the conflicting thoughts I'm sure were running through her mind. Eventually, she placed her hands calmly in her lap. Her expression turned straight-faced, and her blue eyes filled with a look of concern and sincerity. She took a deep breath before answering me.

"I want you to be happy," she finally said.

I frowned at her completely unremarkable answer. "I don't know if I can be happy," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I think I want to go one way," I said, walking over closer to her, "I feel like going the other way."

"Do you feel like you're being pushed a certain way?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"Sometimes," I said, taking her hand. Soon I was sitting next to her. "It just feels like I have to be a boy, but some things in my life won't let me."

"I think we make it sound too easy to choose," she said. "Myself included." She gave me another concerned look. "There are consequences to either choice." She put her arm around my shoulders. "Being a girl would bring just as many challenges with it as being a boy. I'm not going to lie and say life would get easier for you."

"I know I wouldn't have to hide it all the time," I said.

"That's true," she said. "However, you'll find you have to hide other things."

"Like what?"

"Well you don't just change overnight," she said. "You'll be having to hide the fact that you were born male for possibly several more years." She rested her head against mine. "This could destroy relationships, and possibly bring you some undesired attention from people who don't understand your condition."

"It sounds a lot rougher than the other way," I said.

"Yes," she said, "and no. If you chose to be a boy, just because you thought it would make everyone else happy, you would be causing yourself harm. You might find yourself building up years of regret based on your decision." She kissed me gently on the top of the head. "Unless you can come to grips with either choice. Then you may realize the hardships were worth it all in the end." She kissed me again. "You just have to be strong, and steadfast in your decision."

"What if I can't?" I asked. "What if I wanted someone to choose for me?"

"Honey," she said. "Nobody can choose for you. They can throw you whichever way they want, and maybe pick where you land from time to time." She pulled me closer with a hug. "You might even feel stuck with what they decide for you. They might even break your spirit, but they can't dictate to you what's in your heart."

"But what about Tom?" I asked.

"Tom…"

"Hasn't been entirely honest with you," Tom said.

My eyes darted up to see Tom standing in my doorway.

"I guess I was just scared for you," Tom said, "or scared of something else." He looked down at the floor. "It's just that women are…" He scratched the back of his head. "They just need more protection, and I didn't know if I could provide that for you." His eyes came up to greet mine. "I thought if I could…" He sighed, dropping his hand to his thigh with a small slap. "Bailey… you be whoever you want to be."

I watched Tom leave. Confusion welled up inside of me. What the hell was he hiding? My mother continued to hold me close to her. I couldn't escape her Chanel Allure perfume as it lingered somewhere in the air beneath my nose. It had become her distinctive new scent, and wouldn't leave for years to come.

"Is Tom not telling me something?" I asked.

"I'm sure he'll tell you when he thinks the time is right," my mother said. She looked over at the clock. "Why don't you go take your shower?"

"I still haven't decided how to go tonight," I said.

"Well…" My mother helped me sit up. "Has Nathan ever seen you as a boy?"

I had to think about this for a moment. He had seen me undressed before, but I had panties on. Did I want to tell her about that, along with my breakdown at the time? Did this even count in the first place? I started to assume it didn't, as he helped me get dressed as a girl soon after. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Nathan hadn't truly seen me as a boy. I started to wonder if he even wanted to, or if I wanted him to for that matter. Slowly I shook my head.

"Why don't you let me pick something out for you?" my mother asked.

I didn't argue. Instead I nodded, removed myself from the bed, and headed for the bathroom. The warm water felt relaxing, cascading down my small body. Only the color of my nails added a splash of true femininity to my otherwise neutral physique. It was truly a wonder why I hadn't pursued the other side of the gender spectrum more seriously. Anyone looking at me at that moment could honestly say I could go either way.

In my world, bombarded almost daily with choices to make, I discovered most decisions were easy. They came natural most of the time. Sure, they were mundane choices, and not life-altering ones, but anyone taking note would see that I chose naturally feminine things. Even the shampoo, I now massaged into my wavy blonde hair, had been chosen for scent over function. Little choices like this kept me second guessing myself all of the time.

It didn't seem to bother me at the moment though. I finished my shower, patted myself dry like I had been doing since the pool party, and stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. My summer tan had almost disappeared, but I subconsciously reached for a bottle of hydrating lotion. Ever since Theresa's suggestion at the spa, it had become routine to apply it to my body when possible after a shower. Since it made me and my skin feel good, and did no harm to anyone else, I kept on doing it. Though I had switched to a more neutral scent than cherry.

I thought for a moment about doing something to my hair. It just sort of sat there on my head, wet and stringy. I even thought about asking my mom to teach me how to curl it, but remembered I was short on time. Maybe she could teach me later. I decided to just dry it and brush it out, and though it didn't look special, it did get some of its body back. After messing with it a few more minutes, I brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, slipped on my panties, and sneaked out across the hall to my bedroom.

My mother's choice of outfit seemed a bit odd at first. I figured she would go all out girly with it, but quite the contrary. Most of it appeared masculine in nature, except for the plain white padded bra and tights almost the same color as my nails. The mixture of masculine and feminine attire confused me. Did she want me to choose? That would defeat the purpose of her choosing for me.

Obviously my mother wanted me to wear it all together. As I continued to look over the odd choices, my mother's intentions finally dawned on me. She had picked out an outfit that would be comfortable enough to put me in either role I wanted to be. I quickly slipped the bra on, and sat down on my bed. After pulling the tights on, I looked over the rest of the outfit.

If I didn't know any better, I would've thought the white t-shirt she picked out to be something I wore when I was eight. It looked small, and seemed pretty tight around the shoulders and bust when I finally put it on. In the top center of the t-shirt, now stretched across my fake breasts, sat a blue star. I took notice of the odd trend in the color blue, thinking it had something to do with my nail color.

Now came the odd part. While I had continued to wear panties continuously since the summer, I had never worn anything else considered feminine under my normal boy clothes. As I prepared to do it now, it felt like I was covering up a dirty secret. I held a pair of my old jeans in my hand. They looked distressed, faded, with holes worn in the knees, and the bottom hems all frayed in the back from catching the heels of my shoes.

Another issue I took with dressing like this, was how Nathan would react. I slipped on the jeans, over my tights, while reflecting on how Nathan perceived me. He never really saw me as a boy, but now he would see me pretending to be one. The jeans were a bit snug, hugging at my thighs, calves and bottom. I fastened them around my waist, and took notice of the blue tights showing through the bottom and the holes in the knees.

"Well," my mother said, stepping in my doorway. "What do you think?"

I turned toward her, still looking at my jeans. "It feels kind of weird."

"Really?" she asked. "How so?"

"It just feels like I'm covering something up," I said.

"Oh," she said. "I just thought it would be comfortable and kind of tomboyish." She leaned against the doorframe. "Besides… it's the Cowboys and Redskins tonight."

"What does that have to do with it?" I asked.

My mother's smile dropped. "Nathan is from Dallas." She paused, but could tell I was still clueless. "Dallas Cowboys?"

"Oh…" I said, finally getting it… sort of. "Is that what this is?" I asked, gesturing at the outfit.

She held back a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "Honey…" she said. "If you want to get closer to Nathan, I suggest you learn a little bit about what he likes." She stepped over to my dresser, and started picking through things on top. "I thought you knew, given the nail color you picked."

"I just thought it was pretty," I said.

"Well," she said. "Blue, silver and white are the Cowboy's colors." She turned to face me. "And their logo is that blue star you're sporting."

I felt pretty stupid at that point. The whole time I had thought she picked out some odd blue grunge-based theme to go with my nails. I didn't even consider that she had picked out something casual tomboy, sporting Nathan's favorite team's colors. Not to mention that word confused me more than anything else. How could one be a tomboy without first being a girl? You had to be a girl who acted boyish in order to pull that off. Yet, my mother had assumed the girl part before the boy again.

"I just thought since you did your fingernails too," my mother said, as if reading my mind. "You felt like being a little girlish tonight."

"I really hadn't planned on going anywhere," I said, looking at my nails. I now realized her assumption at least had some merit to it.

"Well you don't have to," she said, "but I think you'd have fun."

She held up a tube of lipstick. I watched her roll the color out of the tube, and saw she chose a subtle pink color. For a moment I glanced back and forth from the lipstick to the come-on-and-do-it look across her face. I smiled, realizing it was actually what I wanted, not what she wanted. With a shrug, I invited her to apply the lipstick to my lips. Maybe I had misjudged her before, as she didn't really come off as pushy. She just wanted to see me happy, and thought this made me happy.

"There," she said, finishing up the application. "You look cute."

"What about my hair?"

My mother looked over at the clock. "There's no time to really do anything," she said. "How about…"

She stepped back over to my dresser. For a few minutes, she rummaged through my collection on top. Then she came back over to me with a smile on her face. She held up a silver scrunchie, and had me turn around. After a few seconds, she had me turning back around. In the mirror, over my dresser, I could see my hair put up in a high ponytail. Wavy strands of my dirty blonde hair exploded from the silver accessory holding the ponytail snuggly in place.

"Would you like me to show you how to curl and style your hair?" my mother asked.

"Now?"

"Not now," she said. "We don't have time. How about this weekend?"

"Sure," I said. "I've actually wanted to learn how to style it by myself."

"Well if that's the case, we can pick some styles to try from magazines."

"Sounds like fun," I said.

"Well put the sweatshirt on, and wear your Keds." she said. "I'll be right back with something to cap it all off."

The sweatshirt she referred to, happened to be a tremendously oversized true blue one. With the hood up on it, I probably could've covered my head twice. It dwarfed me, feeling like a short dress, as it almost came down to my knees. My mother returned a few moments after I donned it, and had to hold back a few giggles. She held up a white hat with a blue star on the front of it.

"I can't believe how much bigger Justin is than you," she said. "We might have to start buying you your own clothes after all."

She put the hat on my head, and adjusted it so that my ponytail, along with the scrunchie, stuck out of the hole in the back. After playing with my hair for a bit, she seemed satisfied at the look. She stood and watched me for a moment, as I put on the shoes she suggested. They were plain white Keds, a pair of canvas low-tops. Though they seemed pretty basic, they were more feminine than masculine. I felt they fit the theme rather well.

"Listen," my mother said. "Your brother is spending the night over there. So I don't mind if you want to as well."

"Really?!" I asked. My eyes filled with a bit of excitement. It wasn't often I got to do things with the "cool" high school kids.

She gave me a stern look. "Just behave yourself, and keep in mind how Nathan perceives you. Even with your brother there, he could still get some ideas in his head." She slipped a house key, along with my lipstick, into the front right pocket of my jeans. "I don't care if Tom's company is still here or not. Come home if you don't feel comfortable. Okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"But most importantly," she said, "have fun!"

I shared a brief hug with her. She left the room before me, and kept Tom busy in the kitchen. I managed to slip out of the house without saying a word to him. It wasn't like I tried to avoid him. I just saw an opportunity to slip out of the house, without a judgmental assessment of my attire, and I took it. Tom had a way of bringing you down when you felt like things were going fine.

The street seemed empty. It had reached that point of the year, where all the younger kids headed inside early to avoid the chilly night. There wasn't another kid my age on my street, so I never felt concerned with being found out in my own neighborhood. My school bus skipped a whole two streets to get to the closest junior high student, and it happened to be an eighth grade girl. She probably would've been friends with me, rather than cause any problems.

Nathan's house sat where the street wrapped around a curve. I could only see the back of it from our house. It had a soft gray color. There was very little trim on the house, but what was there had a darker gray, almost green, color to it. The house happened to be a split-level ranch, like our own, which were very common in our neighborhood. Yet the front stairs of Nathan's house were steeper than most of the other houses.

It felt like I climbed a mountain to get to his front door. Through the window, to the right, I could see the television going in the front room. There were no cars in the driveway, so I assumed his parents weren't home yet. Their garage housed a small boat and his stepfather's workshop. He liked to tinker with wood, and make small things to sell on the side. If only my stepfather had something to keep him busy, maybe he wouldn't busy himself with me.

I reached for the doorbell. It felt kind of odd being here. I had never seen the inside of Nathan's house. The only reason I knew about the boat and workshop in the garage, was because it happened to be open the one time Justin brought me with him to pick up Nathan. They were on their way to the movies, and Justin was nice enough to drop me off at Tiffany's on the way. It was yet another time Nathan saw me as a girl, as I was headed to the mall with the girls. The door swung open in front of me.

"What are you selling?" Nathan asked, from the other side of the glass storm door. "Oh…" He pushed the storm door open and stood in the doorway. "Hey Bailey. I hardly recognized you."

I pulled the hood down off of my head. "It was my mom's idea," I said, a bit uncertain now about the choice in outfit.

"You look cute," Nathan said. "Sorry about before. I just had someone come by selling magazine subscriptions."

"No problem," I said.

"Though that still begs the question," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to watch the game with you and Justin," I said. "If you'll let me…"

"Oh…" Nathan said, moving out of the doorway. "Uh… sure! Come on in."

I stepped into the entryway. It wasn't split-level inside like ours, but rather continued on into the living room to the right. The ceiling in the living room was a high vaulted ceiling, with a loft, on the left side, over the bottom of a stairwell. It allowed for someone to sit up in the loft and view what was going on in the living room below. All three bedrooms were upstairs, and they had an unfinished half basement, which had been converted into a makeshift recreation room.

"I didn't mean to just invite myself," I said, "but Tom is having company over, and I felt--"

"It's really no problem," Nathan said. "I just…" He scratched the back of his head. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," I said.

"I was boiling some water for mac and cheese," Nathan said. "Not the greatest thing to eat, but--"

"Sounds good," I said, giving him a friendly smile.

Nathan closed the front door and headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," he called back to me through the living room.

"Where's my brother?"

"Huh?" Nathan poked his head back around the wall leading into the kitchen.

"Justin?" I asked, walking over to his couch. "Where is he?"

"Oh…" Nathan came back into the room. "About that…" He took a deep breath. "Your brother isn't here."

"What?" I asked, stopping myself midway from sitting down.

"He went to a concert out of town," Nathan said. "I'm covering for him."

"On a school night?!" I asked. "Is he crazy?"

"That's what I asked him," Nathan said.

"Why didn't he take you?"

"Wasn't my style of music," Nathan said. "Besides, someone obviously has to cover for him." He stepped back into the kitchen. "I mean you found out about it ten minutes after he left."

"But his car is still at home," I said.

"He went with some other guys," Nathan said. "Why don't you come in here?"

"My mom would absolutely kill him if she knew," I said, turning into the kitchen. "Then Tom would kill him again. Twice maybe!"

Nathan chuckled as he stirred the macaroni. "You're not going to tell them are you?"

"I really should," I said. "It would be the right thing to do."

"Then I cannot let you leave here alive," Nathan said, pointing a wooden spoon at me.

I smiled at him, shaking my head in the process. He turned back to the boiling pot. For a moment I watched him, studying his body. His legs were slender, yet muscular, from what I could see. I could only see his calves, as the rest of his legs disappeared underneath his baggy, silver athletic shorts. The shorts were just tight enough to showcase the top half of his nicely shaped bottom.

Up top he seemed every bit as trim. I swear he had less than five percent body fat. He wore a snug white tank top, which hugged his hard body underneath. I knew from putting my hands on him before, that his chest felt like a rock. Yet, he didn't look extremely muscular. His arms and shoulders just looked well-toned, not like some bulging oiled down body builder.

"You know I was kidding," he said over his shoulder. "You can leave if you want."

"No," I said. "I mean… I want to stay."

"Good," Nathan said.

"And I'm not going to tell on Justin," I said, "but he's going to owe me big time."

"You and me both sister," Nathan said.

"Do you always see me as a girl?" I asked.

Nathan turned to face me. "It was just an expression."

"I know that," I said. "Do you though?"

"Well," Nathan said. "Since you asked…" He looked me over. "I see a lot of girl in you."

"No boy at all?"

"Well there's some," he said. "Maybe I'm biased, because of the first time I met you." He turned back to stir the food. "It's just that I got this image in my head now. You're a girl to me, and even more so on the inside."

I eased down into a chair at the table. For a moment I watched Nathan again in silence. He clicked the stove off, and brought the macaroni to the sink to drain. I watched as he mixed the cheese into it. His arm flexing, as he stirred, looked so sexy. I thought of what it would feel like wrapped around my waist. I could imagine the perfect mix of hard and soft, strong and gentle.

"Ginger ale okay?" Nathan asked.

"Huh?" I looked up at him. "Sure. That's fine."

"My mom doesn't keep much else on hand," he said. "We try to keep it mostly healthy around here."

"It's fine," I said. "Where is your mom?"

"She's at my aunt's house until Wednesday morning," Nathan said. "My stepfather is out of town for the week on business." He brought over bowls of food for me and him. "Which is why your brother got so freaking lucky tonight." He looked at me with a smile. "I guess he wasn't the only one though."

I looked away shyly, and Nathan walked over to the refrigerator. When he came back, he had two small bottles of ginger ale in his hands. He set one down, and opened the other. After passing it along to me, he opened his own. I couldn't help but glance at him as he opened the bottles. Even the slight strain of the action caused his forearms to flex a little bit. He had nice forearms too. They were smooth, perfectly shaped, and when he flexed anything he just looked incredibly…

"Hot…" I said, in a gasped whisper.

"What?" Nathan asked, while sitting down.

"The food," I said, quickly covering. "It's a bit hot." I pulled the ginger ale up to my mouth to take a few sips; more for show than anything.

"Oh," Nathan said. "I hope you didn't burn yourself."

"No," I said. "I'm fine."

"You sure are," Nathan said.

He gave me one of those smiles that showed he thought he did something cute, but irresistible enough to let it slide. I shook my head to show it wouldn't work with me, but I smiled to show there was a possibility it could in the future. We ate in silence, neither one of us sure what to say. To be honest, the meal didn't last that long anyway. I mean, two kids with macaroni and cheese is like an auctioneer on fast forward.

Before long I was kicking my shoes off, and curling up on one side of Nathan's couch. He sat on the other side, sprawled out like an old man who just ate a large meal. We looked like polar opposites. The game hadn't come on yet, so we both appeared a bit antsy. I figured with the game on, we wouldn't have to talk much. Which was good, because I figured he would mostly want to hear about me.

Nathan hit the mute button on the pre-game show. When I looked at him, to see why, I found him looking at me. This was going to be a long night, but I decided I needed to stay now. I might have to cover for Justin as well, since Tom or my mother could call to check up on us. Plus I didn't want to go home to Tom's rowdy friends. They all gave me the creeps; kind of like Nathan was doing right now by staring at me.

"Are you comfortable?" Nathan asked.

"Yes," I said. "A little cold, but I'm comfortable."

"No," Nathan said, half smiling. "I mean… are you comfortable as you are right now?"

"You mean as a girl?"

"I mean in your own skin," Nathan said. "Are you comfortable with yourself?"

"I guess," I said. "There's room for improvements though."

Nathan gave me a curious look. "Like what?"

"I'd like to be a little taller," I said.

"How tall are we talking here?" Nathan asked. "Six feet? Seven? Eight?"

"No," I said, almost giggling at his absurdity. "A few inches at most."

"Oh, so you don't wanna be abnormally tall?"

"Not at all," I said. "What about you?"

"I don't want you to be abnormally tall either," Nathan said.

I leaned across the couch in an attempt to punch him teasingly. Instead, Nathan anticipated the small assault, and pulled me over to him. Caught off guard, I initially went into defensive mode and tried to get away. This only managed to get Nathan more into the playful mood. Before long, he had both of my wrists captured in his hands, and had spun me around to where I lay on my back across the couch.

He pulled my arms down toward my waist, and fell over me. My thighs were now trapped beneath his upper body. He shifted his lower body, and I found my head being lifted up toward his. I suddenly realized my head and shoulders were in his lap. Nathan had curled around me in some weird lovers' nest, leaving me helpless in the middle of it. Though it all felt a bit strange, I didn't exactly want to get out of that position.

I don't think Nathan had exactly planned this in any way. He acted as surprised as I did at the odd arrangement of our bodies. I didn't even recoil when he let go of my wrists. He gazed into my eyes with his own pretty chocolate browns. With the most sincere and objective feelings I could muster, I analyzed the situation. What exactly did I feel for Nathan?

"I'm sorry," he said, starting to pull his body off of mine.

My left hand wrapped around what material I could find of his tank top. I pulled him back down over me. He could hardly stay focused on me. All this time Nathan had played the big stud, knowing all the catchy lines to say in every situation, but now he couldn't even focus on me. His eyes darted around like a frightened school of fish. He didn't know how to act. Nathan Riley was actually shy in front of me.

Any other guy would have probably pounced on a girl in this situation. Granted I wasn't a girl, but was I so different from one that a guy wouldn't find my helpless situation appealing enough to jump me? Nathan knew I was a boy. Why was he so timid about this uncharted territory between us? I thought for sure he wanted this more than I did. Wait! Did I want this? His wide eyes continued to search for the reason I latched on to his shirt.

"I'm comfortable," I said, with a sly smile.

Nathan relaxed a little. I let go of his shirt with my left hand, and my right snaked under it on his left side. My fingers slid over each dip and bump of his defined muscles. How could a fourteen-year-old have such a ripped body? I could actually feel his six-pack before ever seeing it. For some reason I wanted to see it though. Nobody would ever have to know about this.

I made a more dedicated effort to push his shirt up. Finally, Nathan took over, and pulled it off over his head. He looked amazing. His chest and abdomen rippled as he brought his arms back down. I felt the weight of his body again on my thighs. If I had to be trapped by a guy, Nathan was definitely high on the list of people I'd want to trap me. He might even be number one on the list.

"You look so good," I said, running my right hand over his chest.

"Not as good as you," Nathan said.

There he was. My sexy Nathan had come back, with all the right things to say. Quite a bit of confidence had returned with him. I felt his left hand roaming beneath my sweatshirt. Soon it had slid under my t-shirt and I felt his palm and fingers caressing the bare flesh of my navel. He tickled my side with his fingertips, as they danced up my body. Almost in sync with the game on television, our little game had kicked off.

As Nathan's hand swirled around the flesh beneath my shirts, my hand continued to go up and down his chest and abdomen. My left hand had soon joined the action, and was moving up and down his right forearm. Before I knew it, he had slipped his thumb under my bra. His thumb found my right nipple, and started moving in small circles around it. At first it did nothing for me, but once I relaxed a little, it started to feel quite pleasurable.

I found myself initiating the next step. For some odd reason, I pulled his right hand toward my waist. As if watching myself from the loft overhead, I pulled my sweatshirt up, and guided Nathan's hand to the button on my jeans. I don't recall even being self-aware of the consequences, but everything fit the moment so perfectly that I didn't want to stop. My mind didn't even know if this was the next step or not, but my body went along with it anyway.

Nathan hesitated for a moment. The thumb of his left hand continued to swirl around my nipple. His fingers of the right hand danced upon the button of my jeans. He looked up at me with those sincere brown eyes, as if to question me on this decision. My upper body twitched, as his thumb on my nipple brought me to some strange new place. I nodded, and watched, as if out of body, while Nathan unfastened my jeans.

We squirmed together upon the couch. With enough patience and perseverance, Nathan managed to release the jeans' hold from around my bottom. Some more squirming followed. Eventually the jeans were pulled down past my knees, and I managed to kick them off the rest of the way. Nathan instantly became fascinated with the tights underneath. He couldn't wait to run his hands up and down my nylon-clad legs.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. Nathan's thumb went back to my nipple. His right hand roamed my legs, and then eventually moved to my groin. He managed to wedge his hand in between my thighs, and I felt the pressure of his strong hand as he began to massage my genitals beneath. I felt the pressure build and build, until I thought it would burst inside of me. Nathan kept bringing me back to that same spot, over and over.

I didn't open my eyes until the trembling stopped. Nathan reached up and gently removed my hat. As my ponytail finally came untangled from it, I found myself looking up into Nathan's eyes. He gave me the most thoughtful and sincere look. His right hand reached up and caressed my left cheek. For a second, I doubted the next part. Once that second passed, I had no more doubts. I pushed my lips to his, and we kissed. We kissed passionately for a very long time.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 4

Everything seemed so peaceful. It felt as if I were floating calmly amidst a vast ocean, yet something held me firmly in place, like an anchor. Nathan was my anchor. In a world filled with doubt and despair, he made me feel at peace. I floated freely, yet his firmness kept me from straying too far. There were storms on the horizon, but with Nathan I felt I could sail through them.

I had to admit, out of all of the people I knew, Nathan made me feel more at ease than any of them. Though I could talk to Tiffany about anything, she seemed a bit rambunctious with my condition. Nathan made it clear that my condition didn't define me. He told me once, he thought it brought more to my character, but it wasn't my entire character. What others found odd about me, Nathan found quirky or cute. I wasn't the best at sports, and yet he included me in them anyway.

Maybe Rajan had been right. Maybe I didn't have to be good at something to have fun. I obviously wasn't the best example of a girl or a boy, but I had fun being both. I especially had fun with Nathan, even more so now. Nathan's touch felt so soothing. His eyes seemed so caring. His warm embrace felt so loving. Everything about Nathan felt wonderful. This strange turn of events felt amazing, but at the same time terrifying. It felt surreal. It felt like… a dream?

"Hey," Nathan said, from a seemingly distant place. "Welcome back."

"What happened?" I managed to sheepishly squeak out.

"You fell asleep right around kickoff," Nathan said. "I asked if you were comfortable, but you were dead to the world."

"You mean we didn't…"

My eyes blinked open. As I adjusted to the strange surroundings, I slowly remembered I had come over to Nathan's house. The high vaulted ceiling of Nathan's living room greeted my stare. I quickly looked down my body. My jeans were still on. Everything seemed intact except my hat. Apparently Nathan, or even I, had taken it off to be more comfortable.

"We were talking a little bit," Nathan said. "Then you just checked out."

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I just had a long day."

"You didn't miss much," Nathan said. "The game was pretty boring, and the damn Redskins won."

"What was the score?" I asked, feigning interest.

"Twenty-one to sixteen," Nathan said. "Cowboys are having a crappy year. They probably won't even make the playoffs."

"Sorry they lost," I said.

"You don't need to apologize for anything," Nathan said.

"I guess I've just gotten used to it," I said.

"Used to apologizing?"

"Yes," I said. "I feel like I'm to blame for a lot of things lately."

"Like what?"

"I… I don't want to talk about it right now," I said.

Nathan's hand came down to rest on my head. I had been laying on the couch, my head inches away from his thigh. Soon I felt his fingers gently flex in and out of my hair. It felt relaxing, and I soon closed my eyes. A long moment of silence crept into the room. I didn't seem to mind, as that peaceful state returned to me. Had he been doing this as I slept? Did it really matter if he had?

"Still tired?" Nathan asked.

"Not really," I replied.

I pushed my head back until I could see Nathan's eyes. He wasn't looking at me, but rather staring blankly at the television screen. The late night news could be heard softly from across the room. My eyes felt heavy once again, as I relaxed back into my former state. His hand felt so warm and gentle. It felt like we were back in the park, the day he first had touched me in such a caring way.

"Your brother should be back here in an hour or so," Nathan said. "I'd offer you the couch, but I already gave it to him."

"It's okay," I said. "I should probably head home."

"No. You can stay," Nathan said. "I mean… it's not like I'm kicking you out."

"I guess I could sleep in the chair over there," I said.

"Well," Nathan said, standing from the couch. "If you're not tired, would you like to see the rest of the house?"

The moment his hand left me, I wanted it back. We had a strange relationship. It felt even more awkward to me now, as I thought we had taken it to the next level. I felt embarrassed to even ask him if anything had happened. Obviously it was safe to assume nothing had, but everything felt so strangely real. Surely Nathan would have said something. He didn't even act out of the ordinary.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position. My feet and lower legs swung over the front of the couch. Nathan busied himself by collecting my shoes and hat. He held them with his left hand, as he reached out with his right to help me from the couch. I stood, a bit wobbly, but close enough to smell his aftershave or deodorant. Whatever the fragrance happened to be, it smelled good.

Even standing close to Nathan felt awkward. If we had been intimate before, we had descended back to dodgy and uncomfortable in record time. I figured he would have kissed me. Maybe he was waiting for me to kiss him. It couldn't be that, as Nathan always took the lead in situations such as these. He definitely wouldn't have let an opportune moment for a kiss go to waste, if we were to kiss. It wasn't in his nature, or so I believed.

"Thank you," I said, almost a faint whisper.

Nathan flashed me a smile. "The downstairs isn't much," he said. "Just an unfinished boys' hangout and the garage is basically the other half." He let my hand slip from his. "I can show you the upstairs though."

"Sounds good."

Nathan and I looked at each other for an awkward lingering moment. I lowered my eyes with my head, a shy move, but it got Nathan to move again. He stepped away from me. Nathan led the way to the stairs, and I followed like a lost puppy. It seemed easier than anything to fit that role. I didn't mind letting others take the lead. Rajan had called it passive, and said it wasn't a bad trait to have, but I should be careful not to let people take advantage of it.

The tour of Nathan's house wasn't as extravagant as I had envisioned. He definitely would have no career in being a tour guide. However, he showed off the house as best he could, taking me through the upstairs. I saw the master bedroom and bath, along with the spare his mother had converted into an art studio. Then he showed me the loft, which his stepfather had made into a home office.

The main thing I noticed about the house, was everything seemed impeccably in order. Even his mother's art studio, with paint and spare canvases strewn across the room, had some kind of order to it. I figured his mother was one of those crazy clean-everyday neat freaks, who got mad if her house was out of order. That was my initial though, until I saw Nathan's room.

"And my room," Nathan said. "It shares the bathroom with the spare."

Nathan's room happened to be the most orderly out of all the rooms. While most of my friends had posters and pictures all over their walls, Nathan had a bulletin board and a mirror hanging up. Even the bulletin board seemed in order, with things to do posted neatly in a line down one side. His bed was even made. I don't think I knew a boy around my age who actually made his bed, especially not if their parents weren't home.

"What do you think?" Nathan asked, as he placed my shoes next to his door.

"It's…" I searched for a compliment, but there was only one word I could think of at the moment. "Neat?"

"Oh…" Nathan said as he shrugged. "Yeah. My parents are always running, so I help out a lot taking care of the house." He stepped over to his dresser, putting my hat on top of it. "I'm not crazy with it. I just avoid messing things up." He stared at me, assuming he had to explain more. "Less to clean up later. You know? That sort of thing."

I shook my head, letting out a laugh with my breath. "You don't need to explain. It's just I'm not used to everything…"

"Being in top order?" Nathan asked.

"Something like that," I said, smiling.

"Yeah, I got that from my father. Military man. Did you want something to sleep in?" Nathan asked. "Or are you comfortable in that?"

"Actually these jeans are a bit snug," I said, "and I'm dying in this sweatshirt."

Nathan flashed me a knowing smile. "You can wear whatever," he said. "Just make yourself comfortable." He pointed toward another door. "Bathroom is there, and there's an unopened toothbrush in the left drawer." He walked over close to me.

"Where are you going?"

Nathan put both of his hands on my shoulders. "I'm going to wait up and let your brother in," he said. "I'll be back though."

"I should just stay here then?" I asked, as he brushed past me.

"I figured a bed would be more comfortable than the chair downstairs," Nathan said. He turned to look back at me. "That is if you're okay with sharing?"

All I could manage to do was nod. Nathan smiled once more, and turned to head down the stairs. I had stayed over at boys' houses before, and had never felt weird about it. This felt weird. Was it because I felt like a girl at the moment? Almost as if in slow motion, I turned my head to look at the bed. They had somehow stuffed a queen sized bed in his room, and still had room for other furniture. My own room could barely handle a twin size bed and a dresser. Nathan actually had a desk for his computer.

"Well… he said to make myself comfortable," I said to myself.

The thought of knowing how to fulfill that request eluded me. What exactly could I do to make myself or this moment comfortable? If I took clothes off, the situation would be uncomfortable. If I bundled up, I'd physically be uncomfortable. I became increasingly less "okay" with this arrangement, and for some reason all my self-doubt came creeping up on me. I stood there, frozen, unable to make myself comfortable.

"Are you okay?" Nathan asked from behind me.

"I'm fine," I said, nodding to reassure myself.

"You look a little distraught," Nathan said. He watched me for a moment. "If you're not comfortable with this, I can take my parents room."

"I…" I fumbled around for something to say. "I should probably just go home."

"But you're here," Nathan said. "I'd like you to stay."

"I'm not sure about this," I said.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything," Nathan said. "I just…" He ran his hand through his hair. "I guess…" He dropped his hand to his side. "I promise you'll be safe. Please stay?"

I thought of Tiffany for a moment. Even though she said it would be okay if I wanted to be with a boy, I knew something like this would hurt her. I had to be diplomatic about this. It had to be treated like two friends sharing a bed, like a girl and a boy forced to share a one bed motel room. As that conjured up images of something else entirely, I shook my head. Nathan took it as a sign of disagreement, but I was prepared to counter this with something Tiffany would have said to me.

"If I stay," I said, "nothing happens that I don't want to happen."

"I'm totally fine with that," Nathan said. "In fact, the thought never crossed my mind."

"Really?" I asked, with a tinge of disappointment. My head tilted to the left, and for some reason I could feel my face forming into a definite pout.

"Well, I mean…" Nathan stammered. "Look. I'll be totally honest with you. I've thought about it, but I'd never ever take advantage of you like that."

"You've thought about it?"

"Well haven't you?" Nathan asked.

"I…" I glanced at the wall behind him. "I asked you first."

"But I just said I did," Nathan said. His smile invaded the corner of my eye, pulling my gaze back to him. "Have you?"

The doorbell rang at that very instant. Nathan and I stared at each other, his look an obvious one of disgust at the interruption. I bit my lower lip, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an answer. This answer would take careful thought. If I revealed my feelings to him, he might take it the wrong way. I didn't want him thinking to pursue the thought of acting on our feelings tonight. It felt comfortable to just keep this friendly. I felt comfortable?

"That's your brother," Nathan said.

"Don't tell him I'm here," I said.

"Why?"

"I want to talk to you, alone," I said. "I don't want overprotective Justin on our case tonight."

"He'll find out eventually," Nathan said. "I can't keep it from him. It wouldn't be right."

"He can find out tomorrow," I said. "Just not tonight."

"Okay," Nathan said. "Just try to stay quiet until I come back then."

"Go let him in," I said, gesturing for him to hurry.

Nathan turned and stumbled down the stairs. I stepped back, and slid the door closed, leaving it open a crack. As I moved around his room, I studied his belongings. He had a nice collection of trophies, mostly from sports like basketball and baseball. Surprisingly there were no awards for football. Maybe he had just taken it up. His bookcase was filled with books, and only a few of them were typical boys' books. Most of them were actually thought-provoking.

There were a few pictures on his dresser, mostly family, but one in particular caught my eye. Amongst the pictures of his mother and father hugging on him in some form, there was a picture of a young girl. She appeared to be smiling on the outside only, as I could see in her eyes she had a lot of pain hidden within. Her raven black hair looked healthy, and fully framed her beautiful face.

I had to admit, I felt a little jealous seeing her. She could have been Nathan's cousin or someone else I didn't even know, but I found myself comparing myself to her. Obviously he cared enough about her to keep a picture. This beautiful girl must have meant something to him. Was she the reason he didn't see us together in the future? Did I honestly care if there would be an "us" in the future?

My brother's voice carried up from the living room. He boasted about how awesome the concert had been, and how he would do whatever to make up tonight to Nathan. Eventually both of their voices turned to mumbling, and I got tired of straining to hear it. I had plopped down on the foot of Nathan's bed. For some reason I now had the picture of this beautiful girl in my hands. Her soulful brown eyes stared back at me.

After a few minutes passed by, I heard footsteps on the staircase. I rushed over to put the picture back on the dresser. As the bedroom door eased open, I had managed to posture myself in a stance where I appeared to be casually perusing the pictures. My face felt a bit flushed, and I hoped Nathan didn't take notice. I tried to hide it a bit, by pretending to struggle getting the silver scrunchie out of my hair. Nathan closed the door, as I placed the scrunchie next to my hat on the dresser.

"Might have to keep it down for a bit," Nathan said, in a whisper, "but Justin's all settled down there."

"I was just looking at your pictures," I said, whispering as well.

"Ah," Nathan said. "Yeah. That's my big happy family. All three of us."

"Who's she?" I asked, pointing at the girl. I tried to make the question sound as relaxed as possible.

"Didn't I tell you about Jessie?" Nathan asked.

"I don't recall," I said.

"She's the girl I dated back in Pittsburgh," Nathan said. "I thought I told you about her."

"Oh," I said. "Now that you mention it…" I looked at the picture. "Wait! Pittsburgh?" I turned to face him. "I thought you were from Dallas."

"I am," Nathan said. "I lived in Dallas for about ten years, and Pittsburgh for almost two." He walked over to join me at his dresser. "My dad moved us all to Pittsburgh, but then my mom got custody in the divorce, and we moved halfway back, before she met my stepfather and we settled here." He looked at the picture. "My mom is still mad he made us leave Texas, but Jessie is mad I had to leave Pittsburgh."

"She's pretty," I said, a bit flippantly.

"She was about your age when that was taken," Nathan said. "I think you two would get along great. You have more in common with her than I do."

"I do?"

"You're both kind of the same," Nathan said. "You've got pretty much the same style, same attitude, same quirkiness." He looked at me with a smile. "You're both cute too."

I blushed and turned my face away from him. It felt like the room had suddenly gotten ten degrees hotter. I knew deep down that I liked Nathan, but I really had to show some restraint. There was entirely too much for me to sort out already. I didn't need another relationship on the table. Even if it was a dream earlier, I knew in reality what happened in the dream was wrong. As I turned back to face Nathan, I was prepared to tell him all of this.

"Hey Nathan!" Justin shouted from downstairs.

We both jumped.

"Nathan!" Justin shouted again. "You gotta see this! They're talking about the concert!"

"Why don't you find something to sleep in?" Nathan asked. "I'll go knock your brother out with something."

As soon as Nathan left the room, I practically tore the sweatshirt off. It felt like I would burn up if I kept the stupid thing on any longer, but I withstood it for appearances. I tossed it onto the chair at Nathan's desk, hoping the small mess wouldn't send him into a rage. While I opened his dresser drawers, looking for some shirt to wear, I realized what I had on felt pretty comfortable. In fact, the only uncomfortable thing now happened to be my jeans.

I hesitated, my fingers holding the corner of material around the button loop. Would it be too weird to share Nathan's bed like this? I would be sleeping in tights and a t-shirt next to a teenage boy. Knowing his fondness for anything remotely related to hosiery, especially the body parts located within, I didn't want him to get the wrong impression. Did I trust him enough to bare the jeans?

My mind had doubts, but my heart took over and was willing to trust him. I pushed myself to pull down the jeans. They slid smoothly off of the blue tights beneath. As the jeans pooled around my nylon-clad feet, I felt a bit more comfortable; at least physically. Emotionally I was feeling like a train headed toward imminent derailment. Being around Nathan had as many advantages as it did disadvantages.

The disadvantages were obvious. I liked him, possibly too much, and he liked me. Though I didn't know to what extent his feelings ran for me, it worried me that something would eventually take us to some new level. He was also a bit older, with a little more experience in the area of relationships. I even fell for the "older guys are better" mentality by listening to my female friends swoon over high school guys. So being with him had a few disadvantages, but the positives outweighed the negatives.

Nathan was by far the nicest guy I knew. Justin had his moments, but I noticed most of them were around Nathan. Jason, Tom, and every other guy I knew, happened to be jerks most of the time. I couldn't talk to them either. They didn't understand me. It worried me sometimes that Nathan understood me far too well, but I figured it came with his personality. As I thought about my relationship with Nathan, I somehow ended up sitting on the foot of his bed.

"Your brother is wired," Nathan said quietly, as he quickly opened and closed the door. "I finally convinced him that I had to get some sleep."

"Could I ask you a question?"

"Can it wait a few minutes?" Nathan asked, stepping over to the bathroom door. "I'd like to brush my teeth."

"I guess I'll join you," I said, rising to my feet.

I followed him into the bathroom, where he greeted me with my own toothbrush. I'm sure most girls would get all sentimental about such a thing, but I wasn't old enough to understand the significance. I knew from watching shows and movies it was some big step in a relationship. Then again, Nathan and I weren't in a relationship. We played a childish game of glancing at one another while the other wasn't looking in the mirror.

Eventually we finished what we had set out to do, and Nathan allowed me to have the bathroom to myself for a moment. After relieving myself and freshening up, I returned to the bedroom to see Nathan sitting on the nearest side. He looked me over, perhaps a little too deliberately. From my vantage point, he appeared to be capturing the image and locking it in his mind somewhere. I stood hesitantly at the door. The only light in the room came from the lamp next to his bed.

"You look so cute," Nathan said. "Are you comfortable?"

I nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

I bit my lower lip. "I'm a little nervous," I said. "No… I'm terrified."

"Nothing is going to happen," Nathan said. "You're perfectly safe here with me."

"I believe you," I said. "Yet I still can't get myself to move."

"Well…" Nathan stood, and walked over to me. "I'll just have to carry you."

Before I could muster a protest, or retreat away from him, Nathan had me in his arms. I squirmed out of sheer nervousness, but honestly didn't put up that much of a fight. He carried me over to his bed, and gently lowered me down onto it. For a moment he left me, walking over to retrieve a book from his bookcase. On the way back, he stopped at his dresser to pull out a rather large, yet comfortable looking long-sleeve shirt.

"It gets kind of cold up here," he said, sitting next to me on the bed. He handed me the shirt. "You might change your mind."

Nathan pushed some pillows up against his headboard. Then he propped himself up against them, and set the book in his lap. This didn't feel comfortable at all. He looked down at me, as I lie there with my head on the pillow next to him. No, nothing about this felt right. I sat up abruptly, causing Nathan to retract. For a moment I thought about leaping from the bed, but instead I turned and faced him; sitting Indian style next to him.

"I'm serious," Nathan said. "You don't have to worry about anything."

"I do though," I said. "Not necessarily about what might happen, but I don't know…" I looked down at the bed. "It just doesn't feel…" I looked up at Nathan. "This is totally new for me."

Nathan reached out and took my left hand with his right. "Which is why I'm not pushing you to do anything," he said. "I don't care if you sit here and stare at me all night. I'll sleep in the chair over there, or on the floor. I don't care about any of that. I just want you to feel safe and comfortable." He let go of my hand. "In fact, I wouldn't want us to do anything to ruin tonight. I don't even want you to think about how to act or any of that."

"But I do!" I said. "I think about it all of the time. I can't not think about it." I put my hands on his leg, which was probably a dumb move on my part. "Don't you think about it? I mean… don't you want to kiss me, or something right now?"

"Maybe I do," Nathan said. "Maybe I don't. Either way, I'm not asking to, and I don't want you to feel pressured into it. If it will ease your mind, I'll just say I don't want to kiss you."

"What?" I asked, retracting myself. "Because you don't like me?"

"Because I like you too much," Nathan said. He reached for my hand again and found it. "I respect what we have." He sighed. "You're young, and maybe a little inexperienced, and to be honest, you have a lot to figure out. The last thing you need is for some guy to be forcing another relationship, when you're juggling one already with everything else going on in your life."

Could he read minds? He basically said what I had been thinking. "So you do like me?" I asked, my eyes showing I was scared to ask the question.

"Of course!" Nathan said. "I just want you to relax. Be yourself around me."

"Be myself?"

"Act girly, tomboyish, funny, serious, goofy," Nathan said. "Whatever you are at the moment. I don't even care if you slip into being a boy around me. In fact, I've never really seen that, so it may be shocking. I just want you to be you."

Nathan let his hand slip from mine, and I felt stranded. It felt like he left me alone in the middle of an island to sort myself out. He'd gone from my anchor to marooning me. I knew once I sorted it out, I could come back to him, like a lifeboat waited for me on the shore. The only problem was, I didn't know where to begin on my own. There had always been people there to push me one way or the other. Ultimately I knew I took the choice to go either way, but I never felt this far from inspiration.

I could tell Nathan was in this for the long haul. He nonchalantly opened his book and started reading quietly to himself. Any second I thought he would give up on the book and come back to me. Sadly he did not. He was right about one thing though. It started to get a bit chilly in the room, and I ended up slipping on his oversized shirt. The softness and warmness enveloped me like a friendly hug.

I continued to sit and watch Nathan. Surely he would get tired of me staring at him. As each minute passed by, I realized I had focused more on trying to distract him, than actually reflecting on myself. Nathan had actually done me a huge favor, and I hadn't even noticed. He had given me a moment of solitude, a brief moment in the scheme of life, but an honest, undisturbed moment to discover something about myself.

My family gave me time alone at home, but usually for homework. Time with Rajan was like answering essay questions on a quiz. When I discussed my issues with Tom and my mother, they had more questions than I did. Usually they asked me if they thought my treatment was working. Not even Tiffany suggested I sit and think about the problems in my life. She wanted to distract me from them. Nathan had been the first to make me think, and had even awarded me time to do so.

"I'm Bailey," I mumbled to myself.

"Huh?" Nathan asked, looking up from his book.

"You said for me to be myself," I said. "I…" I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know what that is."

"It's not what," Nathan said. "It's who." He set the book down in his lap. "I don't think you know who you are, or at least haven't grasped the potential of who you could be."

"I'm twelve," I said. "I can't grasp algebra. How can I even begin to grasp this?"

"That's what I'm saying," Nathan said. "You're way too young for this. You should be having fun, being a kid." He tilted his head to the right as he looked at me. "In two years you're going to have enough to worry about. You're going to start down the path of shaping your future."

"I know all of that," I said.

"I'm sure you do," Nathan said. "Look… I'm not your typical jock." He gestured to the bookcase. "I've read every single one of those books at least twice. And I'm not saying that to brag about it. I'm saying most athletes make their sports their priority. I don't."

"You've read all of those?" I asked, pointing at the bookcase.

Nathan nodded.

"Twice?"

"At least twice," Nathan said. "Some I've read more."

"So why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because I think you could do that too," Nathan said.

"Read books?"

"Well you could read books," Nathan said, "but no. I mean I think you're smart enough to figure out what it is you want out of life. I think with some careful consideration, you could figure out who you are, and who you want to be."

"You really do want my little brain to explode don't you?"

Nathan laughed, a bit loud by our hushed standards. "You could do it if you really wanted to," Nathan said, collecting himself. "It's just like you said though. You're twelve, and shouldn't be trying to figure this all out right now." He paused for a moment. "And I think I would miss your brain the most."

"Why did you ask me to stay tonight?"

"For this," Nathan said.

"This?"

"Talking," Nathan said. "Seeing you come alive, and not because you're surrounded by a bunch of friends. I wanted to see Bailey alone. See her come out with no persuasion."

"Now I feel like I'm here to entertain," I said.

"You're fine," Nathan said.

"Even with the awkwardness?"

"I'm awkward. You're awkward," Nathan said. "Life is awkward."

"Sometimes painfully," I said. "I was scared to death coming over here tonight."

"Because you had to watch football?" Nathan asked with a smile.

"No," I said, smiling back. "Because I'm not one of the guys." I looked down at my tights. "Obviously…"

"I'd take you over 'the guys' any day," Nathan said. "Even if you do fall asleep while we're talking."

I looked up at him, half-smiling. "Sorry about that. I get drowsy after a shot."

"Shot?" Nathan asked. "You've been drinking missy?"

"No," I said laughing. "You know? My treatments?"

"What treatments?" Nathan asked, showing a bit of concern.

"Oh," I said. "I figured Justin would've told you by now. I've been getting testosterone shots from a specialist, Doctor Dinesh. I call him Rajan." I sighed. "But I think we're going to end them soon, because they're not working anyway."

"So you want to be a boy?" Nathan asked. "How come you never told me?"

"I'm not sure about it at all anymore," I said. "Justin never mentioned it though?"

"Nah," Nathan said. "Justin and I don't really get into personal stuff like that."

"I figured half the town knew by now," I said. "I'm afraid this is all going to get out somehow."

"Does that scare you?" Nathan asked.

"Part of me," I said. "The other part would kill to have it out there in the open. Then I could just deal with things as they come, but still live my life."

"I have a question," Nathan said. "You said earlier tonight that you feel like you're to blame for a lot of things. What did you mean by that?" He paused. "I mean, if you want to tell me. If not, that's fine."

"Oh…" I glanced around Nathan's room. "I just think there are more problems at home." I stared at my fingers, the blue polish shining in the light as I moved them. "Tom is in this weird mode where he's trying to change for me. It's kind of creeping me out, but I know he's doing it because of my condition." I put my hands on my thighs. "Plus he's got this weird secretive vibe going. Like he's got some hidden past, or something."

"It's just Tom?" Nathan asked.

"I wish," I said.

I collapsed next to him, my head falling on the soft pillow. As I curled up next to Nathan, I hoped he would go back to caressing my hair with his hand. He didn't. In fact, he didn't even touch me, or let on that he was going to. I could feel his warm body so close to me, but I wanted it closer. Maybe he was waiting for me to make a move. For some reason I even tested the water, letting my nylon-clad knee rest against his leg. He didn't even flinch, or show interest.

"Justin and Tom are fighting more," I said. "I feel like I've pushed them apart, because Tom has put all of his attention into 'curing' me." I sighed. " Justin kind of got pushed to the side."

"I've noticed a lot of resentment lately from Justin," Nathan said. "I don't think you're to blame for that though. I think Justin is starting to dislike Tom's control."

"It doesn't change how I feel though," I said. "Even my mom and I are at odds. I'd like to spend more time with her, but she's working more and more at her new job." I looked down the bed between us, and very deliberately shifted my leg to rub against his. "She's talking about them sending her away on marketing campaigns now."

"That would be good for her career," Nathan said. "Not so good for you though, unless you need space."

"I don't know what I need, but Tom hates her being away so much," I said. "He also hates that I don't have any male friends, but I can't help that. I just don't have that much in common with them anymore. Plus I'm scared they'll find out about me somehow."

"Well you can't be scared about that all of your life," Nathan said. "I imagine it'll be rough, but you have to be the person you feel you are, even if your friends disagree with it."

"That's easy for you to say."

"True," Nathan said. "But I for one would support you no matter what."

"I'm afraid my parents are spending too much on this all too," I said. "I heard them talking about it all one night."

"Insurance covers a lot of it," Nathan said.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" I asked, presenting some exasperation in my voice.

"No," Nathan said, "and I'll be the first to admit it. I just don't think you should blame yourself for everything. You have enough to worry about."

"Your girlfriend was lucky to have you," I said. "The one in Pittsburgh."

"I think I was all she had," Nathan said.

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him.

Nathan nodded. "She had an abusive father. He drank a lot, called her and her mother a whore in public, and would beat them around if they talked back to him."

"That's horrible," I said.

"Yeah," Nathan said. "Well the 'whore' thing stuck, and she had problems keeping friends around. Her dad would come up with disgusting stories about her around schoolmates."

"So she didn't have friends?" I asked.

"One," Nathan said, pointing at himself. "That's why it broke her heart when I moved away."

"That's so sad," I said, frowning now at Jessie's story.

"She's a nice girl too," Nathan said. "Far from what her dad said about her."

"What was she like?"

"Well you saw what she looks like," Nathan said.

"She's pretty," I said, this time with more sincerity. "Could even be a model."

"She's got the height for it," Nathan said, "but I don't think she'd do it, based on her past."

"Low self-esteem?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Nathan said. "I mean, unfortunately she did have that, but well…" He put his hand on my shoulder. "When I said you two had a lot in common, I meant genetically."

"What?" I said, a bit too loudly, as I shot up onto my knees next to him. "You mean… she was a he?"

"Technically," Nathan said. "Her condition was slightly different than yours."

"How so?"

"You want details?" Nathan asked, a bit hesitant.

"I'm curious," I said. "You don't have to tell me though."

"I'm not sure how much you want to hear," Nathan said.

"I've had sex ed.," I said "I can handle it."

"Hmmm." Nathan observed me for a moment, as if measuring my maturity level on the subject. He finally took a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes. "Jessie was born with underdeveloped genitalia," he said.

I nodded sincerely. "What did it look like?" I asked, quickly putting my hand to my mouth. "That's not a bad question is it?"

Nathan turned his body toward me a bit. "She was born without testicles," he said, "and her penis didn't grow much at all. It was still functional, but only about an inch or so long." He paused, seemingly reluctant to tell me the last part of it. "I still remember her smile when I told her how cute I thought it was."

My mouth stood open, more out of curiosity than shock. Though I had read definitions of various conditions in Rajan's office, I could never really put an image to it. This poor girl had been born with one of those conditions, and now I could put it with her face. Technically, as Nathan had said, Jessie was a he. So that beautiful face belonged to a boy, and he looked stunning. I started to wonder if I could ever look that good. Then I remembered Nathan had just said a penis looked cute.

"She showed it to you?" I asked.

Nathan looked a little embarrassed at where the topic was going. I realized this had to be one of the most uncomfortable things to talk about with him, but I couldn't shake it from my mind now. Being born that way sounded horrible to me, but in some weird way it infatuated me. Maybe it was because Jessie looked so beautiful, or because of Nathan's caution in explaining it all, but I actually found the topic appealing. Perhaps in some weird way, I wanted to know if Nathan was into "girls" like me.

"She did," Nathan said. "I don't know if we should be --"

"You said it was functional," I said. "Did you… well… you know?"

"I think we should get some sleep," Nathan said.

"Aw," I said. "I'd really like to know."

"I don't really feel comfortable talking about it," Nathan said. "It really wasn't all that long ago." He sighed. "It's still kind of painful right now."

"Oh," I said. "I understand." I put my hand on his thigh. "Sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay," Nathan said. "I probably would've told you eventually." He placed his hand on mine. "I just see you going through some of the same things she went through. I thought maybe I could help you through it all."

"You've helped a lot," I said.

"You know you can come here any time," Nathan said. "We can hang out and talk, or whatever."

"I'd like that," I said.

Most of our conversation came in short bursts after that. It had gotten pretty late, and I soon found myself snuggled next to Nathan. Although it wasn't exactly the most romantic thing, I managed to work up enough courage to lay my head on his chest. He seemed uncomfortable at first, but then he started to read to me. Every so often we would interject a little bit of conversation, but eventually, between the poems from Byron and Keats, and the waning hours of the morning, I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning cuddled up in Nathan's arms. All night he had been like this protective barrier around me. He felt warm beneath me, as his chest rose and fell. Somehow he had managed to get the sheets around us. They were in reverse order, like he had pulled them off of the bed and wrapped us in them. The bedspread felt slick against my nylon-clad legs, as I stirred and tried to slip them out from under.

Nathan came to, at about the same time I freed myself from the covers. I felt a little guilty at having woken him, but I had a more pressing matter to attend to. Just like I felt disoriented about my surroundings for a moment, Nathan seemed to take a moment to realize why I was climbing over him. He finally assisted me, and I made it off of the bed on his side. I rushed to the bathroom and got seated on the stool not a moment too soon.

Nathan was gone from the room by the time I came out of the bathroom. I wandered around the room aimlessly, wondering if I should gather my things now, or wait. After a few minutes, that seemed like hours of debate in my head, I left the room with what I had on. I could hear my brother and Nathan talking downstairs, so I headed in the direction of the voices. The uncarpeted wooden stairs woke up what little of me was left asleep.

"No, I'm not mad," Justin said. "You could've told me though."

"I should've told you," Nathan said.

"Told you what?" I asked, stepping off of the last stair.

"About you staying here last night," Justin said, while trying to impede a yawn. He looked me over, probably to determine if anything about me seemed out of place. "Is that what you slept in?"

"Yes, I slept in this," I said. "That's all I did."

"Well I wouldn't be going around bragging about it," Justin said. "People might get the wrong impression."

"What does that mean?" I asked, becoming a bit defensive.

"He means people will tend to think the worst in this situation," Nathan said. "Even though nothing happened, people get suspicions."

"Especially nosey neighbors," Justin said. "They see a girl leaving a boy's house in the morning…" He paused. "Never mind. Why don't you just get dressed? I gotta get you home and get ready for school."

"But nothing happened…" I said.

"I know," Justin said. He let out another loud yawn.

"He knows that," Nathan said. "It's probably best to leave with him though." He sighed. "Don't need your parents wondering why you didn't come home together."

"Tom would never let that one go," Justin said, as I turned back up the stairs.

Back in Nathan's room, I took one more look around. Last night was definitely different. If anything, I learned I could be safe at Nathan's house. Even though nothing had happened between us, it felt like we connected somehow on another level. I slipped my jeans on over my tights, and stumbled around while pulling my shoes on. After exchanging Nathan's shirt for my sweatshirt, I laid his shirt neatly on the bed. Then I stepped over to the dresser to retrieve my hat.

I decided to forgo the scrunchie, and shoved it into the large pocket of my sweatshirt. I also didn't reapply my lipstick. Something told me it would be inappropriate to walk home looking anything like a girl. People might get "the wrong impression," as Justin put it. I knew exactly what he meant by it, but part of me tried to deny it. To me, last night seemed perfect. It seemed like I had taken a major step toward something, but I didn't know what. I just knew that it felt like an accomplishment of sorts.

I slapped my hat on my head, and pulled the hood up for good measure. Then I gave Nathan's room one last glance, as if to save a picture of it in my mind. While his offer to come there any time seemed like friendly banter, I knew he meant it. He was just that type of guy. I pushed myself to exit his room, and carried myself down the stairs to meet the day. How I was going to get last night out of my head was beyond me, but somehow I had to try.

"Ready?" Justin asked, as I came into the living room.

I nodded. Nathan pulled the front door open, and Justin stepped outside. As I approached the door, I felt a sharp tug at my right arm. I turned to look at Nathan, and he gave me a caring smile. Then he opened his arms, and I fell into them. His hug felt almost as warm as the rising sun. I slipped my arms around his waist, and he gave me a gentle squeeze. Before I left his house, he held me back and looked right into my eyes.

"Remember," Nathan said. "Any time, and I mean that."

There were times in my life when people said something, but I really didn't know at the time why they said it. I don't think it was for lack of intelligence, but rather lack of experience. My mother always told Justin and I there was a difference between ignorance and idiocy. I never got that until years later. She never explained it to me. I had always assumed it was just one of those things parents say because their parents said it to them.

That morning I didn't understand what Nathan was really getting at when he told me I could go to his place. In true blissful ignorance, I thanked him, shoved my hands in the giant pocket of my sweatshirt, and followed my brother home. Maybe I would get it later, when the right time came. I couldn't even keep my mind focused on one thing. Between getting home, last night, and the school day ahead, my mind darted from place to place like the squirrels running across the grass that morning.

When Justin and I rounded the corner, we saw Tom's truck was gone. Apparently he had gotten an early start to the day. Our mother's car still sat in the driveway. She liked to see us off to school when she could. It happened to be a small bit of the time we actually got to see her. At least with it just being her, there would be little chance of odd questions aimed at incriminating us. Justin probably felt relieved at not having to deal with Tom that morning.

"Man," Justin said. "I don't even have time for a shower."

"So take one after gym," I said.

"That's not until second hour," Justin said, "and contrary to what you may think, a lot of guys in high school don't shower after gym." He held his shirt up to his nose. "I smell like a bar."

"How would you know what a bar smells like?"

"Okay…" Justin said. "I guess you got me there. It doesn't take much to imagine though."

"True," I said. "Did you have fun though?"

"Oh, I had a blast," Justin said. "I know you're not a big rock fan, but all of those bands last night were kick ass."

"I don't mind rock," I said. "It's just loud stuff gives me headaches."

"I know. I know," Justin said. "It was outdoors though. It probably wouldn't have bugged you as much." He looked down at me. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you have fun?" Justin asked.

"I guess so," I said. "It was kind of cool to hang out with someone in high school."

"You do that all the time," Justin said.

"Well… yes and no," I said. "I mean, my friends' sisters are in high school, but they take off on us all the time."

"Ah," Justin said. "So they pretend they're too cool for you guys?"

"Most of the time," I said.

"Well Nathan liked hanging with you," Justin said.

"Really?!"

"Yeah," Justin said. "He thinks you're pretty cool."

"That's what he said?"

"Well," Justin said. "He said 'interesting and unique', but basically, yeah."

"Interesting and unique…" I muttered to myself. My eyes shot up to look at my brother. "Did he say anything else?"

"Wow," Justin said. "You're just like a…" He glanced around, and then lowered his voice. "You're just like a girl. Asking what a guy said about you." He chuckled. "You don't have a thing for him, do you?"

"Me?" I choked on the morning air. "I… no. I mean I like him and all… I don't have…" I gave Justin a stern look. "It's not like I'm in love, or anything."

"Just thought I'd ask," Justin said, giving me a concerned look. "No need to get all defensive."

"Why?" I asked. "Did he say something?"

"No," Justin said, but recoiled when he saw the answer seemed to upset to me. "He just said he enjoyed your conversation, and wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Oh," I said. "Well I wouldn't mind that either."

"What did you guys talk about anyway?" Justin asked.

"Oh," I said. "Just about ourselves. Learned a bit about his past. That sort of thing."

"You're not going to tell me are you?"

"Not a chance," I said, with a grin.

Justin shook his head. "Got a key on you?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, reaching into my pocket.

Justin let me go up the steps first. I reached the door, and started fiddling with the key in the lock. Tom had put new locks in a few months back, and they never were right. The deadbolt stuck, and the key didn't like to go into the slot in the knob. I had to give Tom credit though. He was pretty handy with a lot of the things around the house. It just seemed he lacked the ability to get one of those things perfect.

Our mother wasn't even awake when we came in the house. I figured she must be sleeping in, so I took care not to wake her. After kicking off my shoes, and losing the hat, I made myself comfortable in my room. As I sat in my room that morning, I wrote feverishly about the night I had shared with Nathan. At one point I thought my pen would set fire to my diary. Everything I had felt, and even the dream I had, fell onto the blank pages like autumn leaves falling from a tree.

It all felt magical and wonderful. Word after word landed on the pages of that little white book. I lost all sense of time. Alarm struck when I looked up at my clock. While I was lost in my own little world, I had only left myself with ten minutes to get ready before the bus came. The diary flew from my hands, landing in the middle of my bed. My mind started contemplating all that I had to do.

I didn't have time for a shower, but I had one the night before, so I would probably be okay there. My clothes. I definitely had to change my clothes. It would be a little odd wearing what I had on to school. From my bed I leapt, yanking my sweatshirt off in the process. I stumbled out of my jeans, pulling the tights with them as I clumsily made my way to my dresser.

After pulling out a pair of ankle socks, and a fresh pair of plain white bikini briefs, I tossed them on the bed, and headed for my closet. The tight t-shirt I had on was a pain to get off. I struggled with it, finally pulling the thing off, along with my bra, over my head. Frantically I dug through my closet, pulling out a pair of my everyday jeans and a steel blue long-sleeved shirt. I tossed them onto the bed with the rest of my outfit.

It took me awhile to stumble into my fresh clothes, a lot longer than it took to take the others off. When all was said and done, I had about a minute to decide something very important. I could either brush my teeth, put on deodorant, and fix my hair, or I could take my nail polish off. In a moment of panic, I hurried into the bathroom to do all but the latter. I came back to my room with enough time to slip on my sneakers and grab my school bag before heading down the stairs.

The bus was late. I stood waiting for it, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans. Just as I was about to retreat back into the house, I saw a flash of yellow turn up my street. The bus was coming. I had serious doubts about going to school like this, but I knew if I missed the bus, my mother would be on my case. She had said before not to let my dressing interfere with school. I took this to mean that she didn't want to be driving me to school because I forgot to take some nail polish off and missed the bus.

Slowly the bus crept toward my house. I already had an empty pit in my stomach. Of course I hadn't had breakfast, but I didn't feel all that hungry. Loss of appetite was something Rajan mentioned, but I didn't think I was losing my appetite. It was nerves. I wanted to turn and run for the house. How could I even think about going to school with painted fingernails? It would be okay. I could tell people that Tiffany painted them. That had to work!

School didn't go much better than my morning. The questioning stares started about the time I got halfway down the aisle of the bus, and they didn't end anytime soon. I felt myself rushing to everything, from getting on the bus that morning to getting to class on time. For some reason I left my science book in my locker, and had to share with Tracy. She even had some questionable looks of her own when she saw my nails painted. The day got worse after third period, as news got around pretty quickly in junior high.

My tear-filled eyes locked in a stare with myself in the mirror. In the boy's restroom I found sanctity for the moment. What had been a stupid and rushed decision this morning, had turned into a nightmare for me this afternoon. How could people really be that intolerant of blue nail polish? The emo and goth boys had their nails painted black all of the time. Yet somehow true blue warranted ridicule from peers.

I didn't even see who had done it. The act had been so quick, and the shameless perpetrators didn't hang around to gloat about it. I lifted a wet paper towel to my forehead. The gash was small, but still bleeding. If I had learned one thing from this, it was not to stop your fall into a locker with your head. My left hand continued to apply pressure to my forehead, as my right hand held firmly to the side of the sink.

"Damn B! What happened to you?"

The all too familiar voice of Jason Coleman filled the otherwise empty restroom. I started to wonder if he actually planned on meeting me in here. This could easily be considered our "meeting place" if one were to view it as such. I thought it odd that he showed up at that time, after the event which had just occurred. It wasn't his voice though that called me a fag, and he definitely would be one to take credit for such an act.

"What do you want Jason?"

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Jason asked.

"I didn't know I was," I said, pulling the paper towel down to check the cut.

"Sure seems like it," Jason said. "Look… I'm not mad about Friday." He stepped over closer to me. "I actually did alright flying solo with Tracy."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, looking at him from the corners of my eyes. "Sorry I couldn't be there to witness it."

"I know you were there," Jason said, leaning against the wall to face me. "I'm not an idiot."

"I…" I glanced at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jason folded his arms across his chest. "Look…" He glanced at the door, and then turned his focus back to me. "I saw you. Okay?" He took a long breath. "It's why I didn't come over with Tracy. I didn't wanna make you anymore uncomfortable than you already were."

"I wasn't there," I said. "Okay?"

"It's fine," Jason said. "I understand if you wanna keep it a secret. Out of respect for you, and because I like Tracy, I won't say nothing about it. After all, you are the one who got us together." He reached down and lifted up the hand I had on the sink. "You're crazy for bringing it to school though."

I yanked my hand from him. "It's not like that," I said. "I wanted to take it off, but I was going to be late for school."

"Well the real question is why you had it on in the first place," Jason said. "And your story isn't holding water with anyone, because Tiffany said she wasn't with you last night." He put his hand back up under his other arm. "You two need to collaborate a little better if you're going to pull off the old 'my girlfriend did it' story."

"Why do you care about this anyway?" I asked, venting a bit of my frustration onto him.

"Damn it B!" Jason said. "I'm trying to be a friend here." He sighed. "I know that's hard to believe with our history and all, but just trust me. Okay?"

"Why?"

"Why should you trust me?"

"No," I said. "Why do you want to be my friend?"

"I thought…" Jason looked at the door. "You know… We both have seen a little bit of each other's…" He sighed again, and looked back at me. "I'm not good with this shit."

"You like me now?" I asked.

"Sure," Jason said, confirming it with a nod. "Plus we both have a mutual friend. I thought maybe we should try to get along now."

I felt a bit torn at the moment. Since day one, Jason had been tormenting me about being a bit on the girlish side. He had pushed me around, belittled me, and made me look like an idiot in front of other students. Now he wanted us to be friends. It appeared that he was trying to make an honest effort. He did take the first step, and he seemed capable of keeping my biggest secret from other people, even if I couldn't at the moment.

"Okay," I said, with a sigh. "Friends."

I extended my hand, blue fingernails and all, toward Jason. He reached out for it. His handshake felt firm, yet gentler at the same time. I hoped he wouldn't start treating me like I was breakable. That sort of thing would get on my nerves if he did it all the time. We finished the handshake, and he put his arm around my shoulders. I felt myself being pulled away from the sink, and toward the exit.

"We better have the nurse look at that," he said.

Walking out of the restroom with another guy's arm around my shoulder, didn't help my standing in the social department. Girls and boys alike stared at me, conjuring up who knows what in their minds. Considering the nail polish, and the fact that I had been crying a bit, they all probably thought the same as the boys who had pushed me into the locker. Though nobody approached me now. They were probably intimidated by Jason.

It felt awkward roaming the halls with Jason. He usually caused me to avoid him in the halls, but now we had this odd closeness. I honestly didn't much care for his arm around my shoulder either. However, I wasn't going to be the one to tell him to take it off. From the look in the other students' eyes, I could tell this wouldn't go away after today. Sadly, I realized I would probably be seen as the school queer. I'm sure Tom would be proud.

"My goodness! What happened to you?"

My eyes lifted upward to focus on the school nurse. She was around my mother's age, middle forties, and had thinning blonde hair kept up in an ever-growing unpopular teased look; a lost remnant of the eighties. With an inviting and most times caring face, and her short frame carrying a few extra pounds, she had an almost mother-like quality to her. We all called her Sylvia, because she looked like Fran's mother in The Nanny, but her real name was Helen. Nurse Helen actually, if you were trying to be all technical about labels.

"I fell into a locker," I said.

"He was pushed into a locker," Jason said, looking at me with slight disappointment that I had lied.

Helen patted the ugly brown examination table. "Who pushed you?" she asked.

"I didn't see," I said, as I climbed up on the table. "They did it from behind."

"Well it doesn't look too bad," Helen said, slipping on some examination gloves. "We'll just get you cleaned up." She looked at Jason over her shoulder. "You didn't happen to see who did this, did you?"

"I didn't," Jason said, "or I would've done something about it."

"Well don't be going around telling the principal that," Helen said, winking at Jason.

"They did it because of my nails," I said.

"Well that's no reason to push someone," Helen said. "Just because they're a little different."

Nurse Helen swabbed over my cut with some peroxide. She took great care in cleaning the area, almost like my own mother would. I couldn't help but look up into her pale brown eyes. She glanced down and gave me an assuring smile. Then she reached over and got a small band-aid to put over the cut. When she got done with applying the band-aid, she reached down and took my fingers gently in her hand.

"I have some acetone if you'd like to remove that polish," Helen said.

"No," I said. "I'm going to keep it on."

"He's braver than I would be," Jason said.

Helen dropped my hand. "You be more careful out there dear," she said, giving me a concerned smile. She walked over to her small desk, and pulled out two small pieces of paper. "I'll write you both a note for your teachers, but straight to class with you. No dallying."

The rest of the day fell upon me like a torrential rain. Classmates continued to stare at me, while those more bold entered their jabs with a quip or two about my girlish decision. At least I didn't meet anymore lockers with my head that day. Not even lunch with the girls cheered me up. Though they did take a vested interest in my nails. Tiffany made sure she pointed out how awesome it was that I put myself out there, as Danielle and Tracy took intrigue in the story of how I got the cut on my head.

In all of the absurdity of the day, I did manage to make myself noticed. Granted students and teachers noticed me for all of the wrong reasons, but now my name got out there. Toward the end of the day, even eighth graders were taking interest in me. Most of the students already knew the basis of the story, but somewhere along the line it had developed interesting plot twists. It seemed each time someone asked me about my nails, they had a different outlook on the story.

I felt like the first popular outsider ever known to man. There was no pride in being known this way. As girls played games of pointing out how many feminine features they could find on me, the boys played games of guessing which guy I got prettied up for the night before. Teachers were involved as well, as they had to break up quite a few conversations to conduct class. Most girls shot me friendly smiles, as the boys shot me crude looks of lust with winking and tongue to go with them.

By the time I stepped into art class, the last hour of the day, I had found it easier to bury my head as close to the desk as possible. I hardly even noticed Tiffany had entered the room. She had even brought my art box over for me. It started getting noisier, as students clambered into their seats. All I could think about was getting this day over with. I still had a grueling bus ride home; most likely filled with more jokes and foul attention.

"Are you okay?" Tiffany asked.

"Would you be?" Tawny asked. "The whole school's been talking about him all day."

"Drop your cynicism for once, Tawny," Tiffany said.

"Cynicism…" Tawny said, dragging it out in a more questioning tone. "Is that the word of the day?"

"No," I said, lifting my head to look at Tawny. "The word of the day is: 'Oh look! Sissy Bailey has true blue fingernails! Let's make fun of him all day!'"

"That's more of a topic," Tawny said.

"Ugh," I said, as I collapsed onto the table.

"Tawny…" Tiffany said.

"What?" Tawny asked. "I'm just saying it's a topic."

"Well do you have to be so --"

"Bitchy?" Vanessa asked.

I heard her pull her chair out and sit down. Then I felt her hand around mine. I looked up to see Vanessa's caramel eyes dancing over my nails. She held my fingers up a bit to the light. To this day, I still remember her smile. It wasn't one of those smiles that said "that's so cute," or "nice color." Instead, the smile on Vanessa's face looked like she was pleased that my girlishness had come out in a more public setting.

"Well there's your problem," Vanessa said.

"What?" Tiffany asked.

"Bailey, honey, you made them too perfect," Vanessa said.

I looked at Vanessa like she had lost her mind. "Huh?"

"You said Tiffany did them," Vanessa said. "When girls paint guys nails, we do it like we don't care if it comes off in ten seconds. Yours look like you spent some time on them. You even used base and top coats. I can tell, because they're even and have a glossy shine." Vanessa handed my hand to Tawny, while Tiffany grabbed my other hand. "They look almost professional."

"Wow," Tiffany said. "I didn't notice at lunch."

Vanessa pointed at herself. "Fashion is my thing. What can I say?"

"Did you get a manicure?" Tawny asked.

I shook my head.

Tawny's eyebrows raised. "Your mom help?"

I shook my head again.

"You did these by yourself?" Tiffany asked.

"Yes," I said. "Toes too."

"You did a good job," Tiffany said. "How long did it take?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe thirty minutes."

"You got them looking that good in thirty minutes?" Tawny asked. "I can't even get mine to look good in three hours."

"That's because you're a dyke," Vanessa said, "and you never take care of them."

"True," Tawny said. "Except for the dyke part."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "She's more of a lipstick lesbian." She took Tawny's hand and they blew each other kisses.

"Like you?" Vanessa asked, now smiling smugly.

"You know you're dying to try it," Tiffany said.

"Not really," Vanessa said, sitting back in her chair. "I'm dying to know why Bailey painted his own nails up last night."

"He always paints them," Tiffany said.

"I thought you did it for him," Vanessa said.

"Nah," Tiffany said. "I mean, sometimes. When we're bored we do it for each other."

"No wonder he's so damn good at it," Tawny said. "Really…" She looked at me with a reassuring smile. "Good job!"

"So what now?" I asked. They all stared at me like I'd asked the unanswerable question. "How can I just make this go away?"

"The way I see it," Tawny said, "there are two ways. One is to keep painting them, and not let the jokes get to you, which in my opinion would take a ton of courage. Two is to stop painting them, and wait for this to all wash over." She shrugged her shoulders. "Either way, it'll be awhile until people get bored with it."

"Or you can quit school," Vanessa said, jokingly.

"Ah," Tawny said. "Three ways then."

"You know all about three ways," Vanessa said.

"Whatever," Tawny said. "I swear I'm going to jump you at our next sleepover."

"Well you shouldn't have told her," Tiffany said. "Now she won't come."

"Oh, she'll come," Tawny said. "They always come."

The bell rang just as Vanessa was about to say something. Tawny squeezed my hand before she let it go. I almost forgot she was holding it, until she did that action. Tiffany still held my left hand with her right, and had been petting it with her own left hand. She gave me a smile and let my hand go. Our teacher stepped up from behind her desk, and got the class's attention.

"Now we all got your pictures from Friday traced," Ms. Fritz said, "and most of you have retraced them from the projector. Those blown up images you have now, are going to be your next assignment." She stepped out into the middle of the room. "We're going to be doing another shading exercise like you did with the still-life, but this time we're going about it a little differently. You're going to need a partner. Someone from your table. So take a moment to sort that out, and I'll tell you the rest."

"I call Bailey," Tawny said, before any of us could speak.

"What?!" Tiffany asked. "Why?"

"I dunno," Tawny said. "Just feel like something different." She turned to Tiffany. "No offense, but you two always team up."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "Because we're sort of, you know, together?"

"It's okay," I said to Tiffany. "It might be fun for a change."

Tiffany sat back in a contrived huff. "That means I'm stuck with Vanessa," she said.

"Such love," Vanessa said, shaking her head, but sporting a smile.

"Thought you didn't wanna be loved by a girl," Tawny said mockingly.

"No," Vanessa said. "I know she's kidding."

"I am," Tiffany said. "And I agree. It might be fun for a change."

"Now that you all have a partner," Ms. Fritz said, taking control of the class once more, "I'll tell you what you'll be doing. I want you all to swap your pictures with your partner." She paused. "If you haven't retraced it on the projector yet, you will finish that today." She carried her thin, graceful frame back to her desk. "Now for the project, I want you to continue with what you've learned from shading, but I'm allowing you a little artistic license. I want you to fill in that outline of your partner with what you see." She put her arms across her chest. "Within reason. This isn't an opportunity to make a mockery of your partner."

"Aw," Vanessa said lightly, but loud enough for us to hear. "I was going to make mine a portrait of Tiffany swimming in a sea of naked women."

Tiffany gave Vanessa a constrained look of disgust, yet a hint of holding back laughter. I had expected a defensive taunt from Tawny, but none came. When I looked at her, she had this lost look upon her face. With the index finger of her right hand, she traced the outline I had retraced onto the paper. She sat in silence, contemplating what she could do with each line she saw before her.

"Now this project will be due before Thanksgiving break," Ms. Fritz said. "You'll be graded mostly on the shading technique, and how you incorporate the different styles into your work." She sat down at her desk. "Go ahead and get started. Remember, my definition of artistic license is not license to do something comical or inappropriate. You can come to my desk if you have any questions."

I sat and watched Tawny for most of the class time. While she busied herself with laying out the basic shading patterns from my original picture, I studied her. Vanessa's comments about Tawny in the previous weeks had been a bit cruel. I know that we all joked around a lot, but some part of me felt Vanessa saw Tawny as some horrible lesbian beast. This sentiment was far from reality, and probably only based in Vanessa's slight homophobia.

Vanessa gave Tawny a harder time than Tiffany and me. I think it was mostly because she saw Tiffany and I in an almost normal boy and girl relationship. However, Tawny's relationship with Megan was a lot closer to an actual girl and girl relationship. We all saw Megan as a girl. None of us could deny it. Megan just carried herself like a girl, and couldn't slip back to being a boy if we begged her to. She didn't have it in her anymore, if she ever had it at all.

Tawny was very pretty though. She tried to play it down, by dawning apparel thrown together from the dying grunge look, remnants of the skater look, and the emerging emo look. The only problem I saw in it all, was the fact that Tawny looked pretty in just about anything. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't play down the way she looked. It poured out in any little gap she left in the system. I think that's what I liked about her most.

She knew she was pretty. That was the thing. Tawny knew deep down she had the look to land herself among the pretty and popular group. I always thought she had sacrificed that to be closer to Megan, when in fact, she did it to shed attention. Though as she shed some attention from not living up to her potential, she gained some the other way for hiding it. She gained the worst kind of attention. It was the attention I suffered through today, the attention offered only to those deemed as outcasts.

That's when it hit me. I had a chance to play up all of the strengths I saw in Tawny. She had beautiful bright green eyes, almost electric. I knew I was held to the constraints of black and white, but I could try to play her eyes up with shading. Her lips were perfect. I actually found them more kissable than Tiffany's lips, but I would never tell her that. Tawny's black hair made her look exotic. The way her medium length, layered bob framed her face was amazing.

Tawny stopped for a moment and glanced up at me. "Like what you see?" she asked.

"I…" My stammer invited all three girls now to look at me. "I was just getting an idea of what to do for my picture," I covered.

"You could start by putting the pencil to the paper," Tawny said, with a smug smile. "It works for me."

Even her smugness, and raw cynicism seemed attractive. Most of the time it would be a turn off to me, but having gotten to know her, I knew she mostly did it when she felt uncomfortable. Sometimes she would do it just to mess with people. On the rarest occasions, she did it to make people feel uncomfortable so that she could feel more comfortable. I think that was one of those times. She felt uncomfortable at me looking at her, so I dropped my gaze and started on my picture.

"To answer your question though," I said. "I would have to say yes."

"Huh?" Tawny asked.

I glanced back up at her. "I like what I see," I said, with a smile.

For the first time I could remember, I got Tawny Simmons to blush. Not only that, but it was the most adorable thing I had ever seen from her. She even got flustered, and fidgeted with her hair. Her face dropped straight down, like someone had smacked the back of her head, or hit her power switch. I lowered my gaze, but I kept her in view. She sat like that for a long moment, unwilling to lift her head for anyone to see her.

I felt like I had broken into a part of Tawny not yet explored. She had a soft side. Beneath all of her layers she was nothing more than a blushing girl, flattered by the weakest of compliments. She never acted that way around other boys who complimented her. Though it was hard to recount how many actually had. Megan never made her blush, or at least I didn't think she did. Maybe Megan made her blush by other means, in private. This got my mind headed in a bad direction, and I think Tiffany read my mind, or at least saw it in my face.

Tiffany cleared her throat. Her interaction with our situation was like a hammer shattering glass. I hoped what I said didn't make her feel uncomfortable. It was basically meant to make Tawny uncomfortable, not Tiffany. Though I never really took into account the fact that my girlfriend sat right between us. She wasn't glaring at me. That was a good sign. I sat in silence the rest of the class, beginning my attempt at rendering Tawny's outline into a masterpiece. I just had to make her beauty shine forth.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 5

Nothing magnificent could ever be said about a school cafeteria, especially on an ordinary Friday in October. If anyone had the time, patience, or bored curiosity, they could try to pick out each distinctive item on the menu from smell alone. The tables creaked, the silverware clattered, and the multitude of students tried to fill the rest of the room with chatter; in an honest attempt to see which conversation would be king over the air. Our table, on the other hand, had grown unusually quiet.

It had been quiet for the past week, as a matter of fact. One could argue that our conversations had grown dull and lacking of anything fresh, but I more or less thought it was because we didn't want to talk. Maybe it was the weather, or the fact that the leaves outside were changing. Whatever the case may be, we had plenty to talk about, but chose not to. It was a rather strange dilemma, which is why I was startled to hear one of the girls actually speak.

"I'm glad you decided to go tonight," Tiffany said.

Her right hand snaked across the lunchroom table, landing on my left hand and covering it completely. In my other hand, I gripped the cafeteria fork lightly. My dark purple nails reflected off of the dull silverware held between my fingers. I had chosen, by my own freewill, to keep painting my nails, and wear them painted to school. It had been nearly two weeks since the first time I had done it, and unfortunately I was still waiting for the day when I could live it down.

It wasn't like I chose ultra feminine colors either. I avoided pinks, and stuck to mostly darker shades of polish; blues, greens, purples and a rich ruby red at one time. While there were a few that accepted it, the majority of my classmates thought it was queer. A lot of them professed this vocally, while others merely hinted at it. Surprisingly all but one kid on my bus had let it go. I figured if I took a stand on this issue, they would all eventually back down.

At home, Tom thought I was reverting back to my old ways, or some nonsense. He didn't interfere with my decision, but I could tell that he disapproved. Frankly, I thought of him as in the same lot as the jerks at school. Jason didn't show much approval either, but then again, I didn't see him much at school anymore. Our little restroom meetings had ended abruptly, and while my other friends thought it was cool of me to be so bold, there was at least one I thought wanted it to be over.

"Why is Danielle sitting over there?" I asked.

I had a hard time trying not to look in her general direction. Over the course of the past week, Danielle had distanced herself from our group. She used to sit next to me every single day, and now she acted disgusted at the thought. Though she claimed it was nothing personal, I felt it had everything to do with all of the attention I was getting. It seemed ironic to think that the gossip queen felt intimidated when she came too close to the gossip.

"I don't know," Tracy said. "She's been avoiding us lately."

"I can't help but think I'm responsible," I said. "You know… with the nails and all." I dipped my fork down into the mashed potatoes on my tray, and continued to pick off bites of them.

"No," Tracy said. "It's just awkward timing is all."

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "She's been like that for awhile now."

"About the second week of school actually," Tracy said. "I'm not too worried though. She's more like a friend of a friend in any respect."

"Oh," I said. "Well I never noticed. I guess I don't know her as well as I thought." I looked over at Danielle. "I wonder what the problem is."

"I think it has something to do with Vanessa," Tiffany said. "They even had a bit of a fight a couple weekends ago."

"Seems like Vanessa is getting on everyone's nerves lately," I said.

"She doesn't really bother me," Tiffany said.

"Does she bother you?" Tracy asked.

"No," I said, looking at Tiffany. I almost flipped a forkful of food at her. "I can't believe you're not bothered by all of her remarks."

Tiffany shrugged. "I've gotten used to her sense of humor."

"If that's what you call it," I said. "Some people call it rudeness."

Tiffany shrugged at my suggestion. "I guess…"

Looking back over at the other table, I noticed Danielle seemed entrenched in the conversation. She did seem happy. Maybe she got bored over here. The girls she sat with were a bit more popular, and in the good way; at least by junior high standards. They were somewhat intellectual, mostly in seventh grade, but a couple of eighth graders sat with them. If you considered the really popular kids were on the A list, the kids Danielle sat with would probably be the A minus or B list.

A small part of me felt jealous that she could just pick up new friends on a whim. I mean she had previous connections to some of them, but I wished I could fit in that well. That's not to say I wasn't thankful for every friend that I had. I loved Tiffany, and really got along well with the other girls. What little of Jason I saw, I kind of liked having him around too. I guess maybe I felt like I had lost another friend, and was scared of losing others.

"So who's all in tonight?" Tracy asked.

"Well…" Tiffany seemed to be contemplating the question deeply. "Tawny and Megan for sure. I know Lynne will be there, along with my sister. You and your sister…"

"Kale too," Tracy said.

"Oh cool!" Tiffany said. "I haven't seen him since… well… you know?"

We all gave each other knowing looks. It felt a little embarrassing to talk about what had happened that day, and I was glad Tiffany said something about it, rather than me. I wasn't exactly nervous talking about the nuances of transgender issues, but at the same time I didn't want to be the spokesperson for the community. Only with Kale, it felt a little confusing to put it mildly. Ever since I saw him dressed in Tiffany's clothing, I had developed a sort of curious crush on him.

"Yeah…" Tracy said. "About that." She glanced back and forth between us. "Look, don't get all freaked out if he…"

"He what?" Tiffany asked.

"He's been acting strange ever since that happened," Tracy said, sighing a bit. "Don't be surprised if he shows up in a dress."

I almost choked on a green bean.

"What?" Tiffany asked, before I could muster the question.

"I've caught him in my things a few times," Tracy said. "I didn't say anything to my parents, because I think he's just curious. He seemed really embarrassed when I found out. I think it's just a phase with him." She paused. "Not like you, Bailey."

"Not like me?" I asked, taking a rather large gulp of milk afterwards.

"Well… I mean," Tracy stammered as she looked at me. "You're seeing a professional."

"Only because that was the deal I made with Tom," I said. "I don't think the guy is doing much for me to be honest."

"You seem more comfortable with it now," Tracy said. She gestured at my fingernails.

"I'm doing this," I said, holding my hand up with the back facing her. "To show I'm not afraid of what people think, and to make it clear that I won't be bullied into stopping something because it's not considered 'normal' to others."

Tracy stared at me with a blank expression.

"Well I think it's awesome," Tiffany said, pulling my hand down into hers.

"I'm sorry," I said to Tracy. "I'm just tired of people telling me what to do."

"You're obviously mad at something," Tracy said. "But I don't think it's me."

"No," I said. "I'm not mad at you. I'm really not mad at all. It's just…" I glanced around at the different tables. "Don't you wish you could get up everyday and not have to worry about fitting in?"

"Believe me," Tracy said, her eyes growing slightly bigger. "I would kill for that."

"Same," Tiffany said.

"I just wish I could go to school, the mall, or whatever, as myself," I said. "I'm tired of people trying to label me."

"I'm tired of worrying everyday about which outfit will make me look skinnier," Tracy said. "I just feel like everyone focuses on me that way."

"Well I don't," I said. "Neither does Jason."

"Really?" Tracy asked. "Because I've been stressing myself out to look perfect for him."

"He likes you just the way you are," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I do too."

"Same," Tiffany said, like she was in the background of our conversation.

"Thanks you two." Tracy smiled. "What about you?" she asked Tiffany.

"Me?" Tiffany asked. "Oh it's nothing really."

"Come on!" I said.

"Nothing?" Tracy asked.

The bell rang, signaling the end of our lunch. Tiffany seemed all to eager to get away from our lunch table. She acted like she had to be the first one out of the cafeteria. Tracy and I looked at each other for a moment, and then hurried to get up and chase after her. No matter what we tried, we couldn't hardly get another word out of Tiffany. I gave up and just walked with her back to class. Tracy split from us to go see Jason between lunch periods.

"What was that about?" I asked, wandering with Tiffany to the edge of the busy hallway.

"Nothing," Tiffany said. "I'll tell you tonight."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Tiffany said, giving me a smile.

We shared our usual kiss before parting ways. When most of the kids saw I was still kissing Tiffany, and noticed we were together, some of them gave up on the whole "Bailey is queer" bit. Word got around about it, and the students who were reluctant to give up the teasing just labeled me as a freak. Still, there were a lot of students who were far less easier to please. Those were the ones who never gave up. They never stopped with the jokes or crude innuendos.

I watched Tiffany disappear toward her homeroom. After a brief moment, I stepped into the crowd flowing up and down the hall. As I tried my best to weave in and out between the students, I felt someone tap my shoulder from behind. When I turned to see who had done it, I felt a blunt strike on the leg on which most of my weight was supported. My knee buckled. As I fell backwards, another blow came to the back of my other shoulder, like someone had slammed into me with their own shoulder.

This time the perpetrators were bolder. They stood around and laughed, giving each other high fives, as I pushed myself up off of the floor. Luckily I had managed not to meet the floor with my face. I forced myself to stand, while studying the faces of the three boys. Unfortunately I didn't know a single one of them. They weren't in any of my classes, and the other students around weren't that helpful. Most of them walked by shaking their heads with half-smiles that said "what a dork," like I had tripped or something.

Two of the kids had short blonde hair, and were about my size. They probably felt a bit bigger now after making me look small. The third had a darker complexion, Mexican from what I could tell, with slick black hair. He stood a good half foot taller than the other two, and seemed to have the meanest disposition out of the three. Eventually all three of the boys slipped into the crowd of students, and disappeared.

I stood, looking over my attire, to see if anything seemed out of place, or in disrepair. Nothing seemed injured, except my pride. What probably hurt more than anything, was the fact nobody helped me up. They all had better things to do, like walking by and giving me strange looks. After straightening myself, and checking to see if I had another blindside coming, I pulled myself into homeroom and took my seat.

The small skirmish left me feeling a bit insecure, but nothing hurt or appeared bruised or broken. This time was unlike the last, where I had to care for a cut for several days to make sure it didn't scar. My mother panicked, bombarding me with the usual questions on how I got a cut on my forehead. I wanted to avoid her, or even worse Tom, getting in on the situation. So I lied right to my mother's face. I told her I tripped and fell into a locker.

Though I couldn't be sure of it, I bet they both thought I wasn't telling them the whole story. Recently my stories had gotten less complete. I lied about a few things in my stories, left out details in others, and flat out disregarded telling some stories completely to my mother and Tom. I guess I thought the more I let them in, the more they would want to know. Perhaps they would start babying me like when I was younger. It almost felt like my "disorder" caused everyone to pull me back to the starting line and deal with me like I were a new person.

It all felt odd; almost as odd as one of the boys now staring at me in homeroom. I didn't know him, but I remembered him sitting near Danielle at lunch. He didn't give me any strange looks, but rather just stared; out of interest or curiosity perhaps. I shied away from the eye contact. Something about him made me feel uneasy. Although the uneasy feeling might have been runoff from what had occurred in the hallway, I just wanted him to stop.

The bell made him stop. Unfortunately, the bell didn't make my mind stop conjuring up reasons why he would be staring at me in the first place. Did Danielle say something about me? I could see the little gossip queen divulging information to other kids asking why I did girly things. It wasn't farfetched at all. In fact, I would consider it the best way for her to get in with other crowds after being in ours.

Of course, Danielle could have been far from the reason this boy stared at me. Maybe Jason told him to keep an eye on me, or something like that. Why would Jason all of a sudden be my bodyguard though? Just because we were somewhat friends, didn't make my safety an obligation for him. I doubted he even cared enough to have other students keep a lookout on me. That seemed a lot sillier than the option of Danielle.

Maybe nobody had a part in it. Perhaps this kid found some kind of intrigue with me? I sneaked a look at him, making sure he didn't see me. He wasn't extremely cute, yet wasn't at all ugly. With a short mop of blonde hair, a nice face that hadn't lost its baby fat yet, and light brown eyes that showed a lot of soul; I would have rated him as mildly handsome. Surely he could do much better than me, if he was at all interested in the first place. I changed my focus as the teacher stood to get the attention of the class.

I don't know why, but I looked forward to art class that day more than any other day since school started. The rest of the day, since lunch, had been uneventful. Though I thought a little bit about the boy who had been staring at me in homeroom, by sixth hour it didn't seem to matter anymore. Now, in art class, I didn't even think to mention it to the other girls. They probably would have known who the boy was, but I let him slip from my mind.

"Did Danielle say anything to you today?" Vanessa asked, grabbing my right wrist before I could even sit down.

"I haven't talked to her since Tuesday," I said.

"Oh…" Vanessa said, still holding onto my wrist.

Oddly enough, Vanessa had been the first one in class. She never got to class early. In fact, she usually came in as one of the last to class. That wasn't the strangest thing by any stretch. Vanessa also looked extremely worried, like she had been waiting for bad news all day. When she let my wrist slip from her hand, I managed to catch her hand in mine. Her coffee brown eyes looked up into mine with surprise.

"Hey," I said. "You okay?"

"No…" Vanessa said, shaking her head slowly to emphasize her answer.

I took my seat, keeping her hand in mine. "What's wrong?"

"None of my friends will…" Vanessa glanced away, and then quickly back to me. "With the exception of you, Megan, Rachel and the three T's, nobody will talk to me."

"What did you do to them?" I asked, assuming Vanessa had done her bitchy best to distance herself from her other friends.

"Nothing," Vanessa said. "I think Danielle said, or is saying stuff about me."

"I was thinking the same thing at lunch, only about me," I said. "What could she possibly have on you?"

"I…" Vanessa looked around. "I can't talk about it here," she said. "Just… if you hear anything…" She gazed right into my eyes. "Don't think any less of me, okay?"

"That's really not all that hard," Tawny said, coming up behind Vanessa.

"Sadly…" Vanessa said, turning to Tawny. "I'd take your snide remarks over silence."

Tawny shook her head at Vanessa. "You still on that?" she asked, sitting down. "Look… anyone who actually cares about you, hasn't gone anywhere. So screw the rest of them."

I looked over to see Tiffany talking to a boy at another table. Only they weren't just talking, but Tiffany seemed overly friendly with him. She reached out and touched his tan arm a few times, and giggled at some of his remarks. He said something, and then reached up and took a strand of his short and curly blonde hair in his fingers. Tiffany responded favorably and smiled as she combed through the same area the boy had shown her. She was flirting with him!

"Right Bailey?" Tawny said, a bit louder to get my attention.

I turned and gawked at Tawny. She had this impatient look, like she didn't want to repeat the question. Vanessa looked at me as well. Her look was one of pure anticipation for the answer. I noticed I still had her hand in mine, so I gripped it tighter. After giving her hand a little shake, and looking as sincerely as I could into Vanessa's eyes, I gave her a reassuring smile. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tiffany walking away from the boy.

"Definitely," I said, giving Vanessa another smile. Vanessa seemed encouraged and elated by the answer, and moved to work on her art project. I got Tawny's attention and motioned toward the boy Tiffany had been talking with at the other table. "Who is that boy over there?"

"Vince Simmons," Tawny said. "No relation. I just know his name from role call in homeroom." She paused for a moment, glancing back and forth between me and the boy. "He's kinda cute. You interested?"

"What?!" I sat back in my chair and glared at Tawny. "No!"

"Defensive," Tawny said. "Interesting…"

"I find it interesting that Tiffany was flirting with him," I said.

"Really?" Tawny asked. "That's what you think?"

"Yes," I said. "The whole time we were talking."

"You should ask her about him," Tawny said. "Just not right now."

"Here she comes," I said in a lowered voice.

Tiffany slid into her seat right as the bell rang. She flashed me a smile, which I reluctantly returned, and then went right to work on her art project. It bugged me a little that she casually ignored the scene which had just occurred moments ago. Then again, if there was nothing there, she wouldn't have had anything to say about it. Still, my girlfriend talking to another boy felt so wrong. I felt the same as I had when she flirted with Kevin at the roller rink.

I watched Tiffany for a few moments. She worked on her project like the art had taken her prisoner. Once she fell into its grip, she couldn't escape from her art. Tawny was right. This wasn't the right time to bring this up. Tiffany would only partially be involved in the conversation, while the majority of her would be longing to get back to her artwork. That only begged the question of when to bring it up.

If I waited too long, Tiffany would think it perfectly alright to keep flirting with him and other boys as well. I would continue to slip into the back of her mind as simply one of the girls. Lately I hadn't really played the part of her "boyfriend", leaving room for this indecent action to take place. My absence of portraying anything "manly", coupled with the new onslaught of teasing by my peers, perhaps gave other boys the incentive to seek Tiffany out. Maybe it really wasn't her fault, but mine.

On the other hand, I couldn't be too hasty with this either. If it was harmless flirting, or even an innocent conversation, I would just end up getting Tiffany mad at me. That was something I didn't need at the moment. I had enough to worry about without dealing with an irate girlfriend. It would definitely be my fault if I blew this out of proportion. Either way I looked at the situation, it felt like it was my fault. That made me feel even worse.

My focus turned back to my own artwork. Maybe Tiffany felt betrayed that I went with Tawny's suggestion to be her partner for this project. While it was true that I partnered up with Tiffany on almost everything, that's usually what couples do. Had I somehow given some absent-minded tell that I had moved on? Was partnering with Tawny a subconscious indication that I wanted more? All of this psycho babble, brought on by Rajan and others over-analyzing me, had my mind thinking in circles.

That was it! I wasn't thinking clearly. Tiffany and I loved each other. Surely she wouldn't read that much into me choosing another partner. I had to be willing enough not to read too much into her harmless talks with other boys. After all, she claimed to be a lesbian. Why would she be chasing after other boys? What I really had to look out for, was when she started flirting with other girls. That would be a sign that it was all coming to an end.

I moved my right hand. The pencil clenched between my fingers began to streak lines of charcoal gray across the paper. Before long my other hand jumped in, swabbing the streaks of gray with a q-tip. Tawny's eyes were really starting to come to life. I had managed to give them depth, a hard thing to do with a two dimensional shading project. They would never be as beautiful as her real eyes, but I tried hard to make them stand out in my picture.

As I continued to work, I felt an uneasy, but steady calm come over me. If anything, my mind would be relaxed for the next thirty minutes or so. I had too many things to think about. Most of my thoughts hung on questions I would ask Tiffany. Then there were other important questions. Questions like: "What would I wear tonight?" or "Would I have enough time to do my hair before the girls arrived?" All I could do was count the hours until tonight.

Late October could be felt upon every inch of my bare skin. The night had brought with it a chilling breeze, and I felt horribly underdressed. Granted the only skin I bared happened to be my hands and face, but I had chosen clothing too lightweight for the evening. My knees were perpetually within five seconds of knocking together, when I stood still in my purple pantyhose. I should have worn tights, or even jeans tonight, but I hadn't expected the temperature to drop so rapidly.

At least my lower legs were warm, encased snugly by the brown boots I got from my night working at 'Tweens. I wanted to wear the leather skirt with them at first, but I was scared of getting it ruined. So I settled on a jean skirt, frayed a bit at the bottom, that didn't cover nearly enough of my legs. From the bottom of the skirt, to the top of my boots, it felt like those ten inches or so were pure ice.

The top half of my ensemble was a bit warmer. By my mother's advice, I wore a white long-sleeve bodysuit under the purple-toned plaid, flannel shirt I had thought about wearing solo. After I left the house, Kate had helped my shirt selection look a bit more feminine by rolling the sleeves up tight, and loosening a few buttons. It looked feminine, but it also took a layer away from my forearms. The outfit was the best I could come up with for a fall harvest festival. Most people tried to come out dressed in some kind of country theme.

Vendor stalls lined Main Street. The local farmers' market came out to this event every year. They peddled everything from kettle corn to homemade arts and crafts. Growing up in a somewhat large town, it was always nice to see a little bit of the rural life grace our town for a weekend. Something could be found for everyone, including the usual medley of carnival games that sneaked into the affair. To me, this festival was just good clean fun.

While my friends scattered about, most of them flocking to craft tables, I headed hard and fast to the first booth selling something to warm my chilled body up. The first thing I found happened to be hot, homemade apple cider. I couldn't wait to wrap my hands around the cup. Even the Styrofoam was warm. I took a few cautious sips, and looked around the rest of Main Street. Apparently I had gotten away from my friends, and couldn't find any of them in the crowd.

"Bailey?"

I turned slowly toward the male voice I heard. It sounded familiar, but it wasn't Nathan or Justin. I would have recognized Jason's voice, or even Kevin's, but it wasn't them either. A little part of my mind said it could be trouble, but I had already started to turn. I had acknowledged that I responded to that name, and now I couldn't retract from it. When I saw who had said my name, I groaned on the inside. It was trouble after all.

"I see you couldn't wait to wear those boots."

"Hi Dylan," I said, managing to remember his name at the last second.

"You look nice," Dylan said, his smile leaving his lips, but remaining in his brown eyes.

My eyes traced over Dylan's attire for a brief moment. He had on baggy jeans and black Doc Martin's. The only trace of anything country-related on him happened to be the rust and burgundy plaid flannel shirt, opened over an old worn out black t-shirt with "Nirvana" across the chest. He wasn't kidding when he said he didn't wear preppy clothes all the time. I guess he only did that for appearances to work for 'Tweens. Personally, I liked him better in his preppy outfit.

"You look… comfortable," I said, with a sly grin, "and warm."

"Are you cold?" Dylan asked.

"I'm okay now," I said, holding up the cup of cider for emphasis.

We both noticed the older lady at the cider booth giving us a smile like she was witnessing a love connection. Dylan made the first move, and gestured for me to walk with him. Truth be told, I was still freezing, but I remembered what Tiffany had said about boys. Any little thing I might do could seem like flirting to them, so I wanted to be careful. I definitely didn't want to give Dylan the wrong impression about me. The last thing I wanted was for him to offer to warm me up.

"Sorry we didn't get to talk much the other night," Dylan said. "Your friend Vanessa sort of took over the conversation."

"She does that," I said, trying to keep the unusually slow pace Dylan had set for our walk. "What do you think of her?"

"Vanessa?" Dylan asked, like he had forgotten who we were talking about. "She's okay. Not really my type though."

"What is your type?" I asked, taking a sip from my cider.

"I don't know," Dylan said. "Maybe a bit more sincere?"

I actually had to chuckle a bit at Dylan's remark. "You don't think she was being sincere?"

"Not really," Dylan said. "I think she was just talking to me, because she's one of those girls that's programmed to talk to boys." He looked around at the booths. "You know… just for the hell of it."

"You probably know her a lot better than I do," I said. "I thought you two were hitting it off though."

"No, not really," Dylan said, looking back at me. "She comes on too strong."

"Kind of like you did the other night?" I asked.

"Did I?" Dylan asked. "If I did, I apologize. I told you I get nervous around pretty girls."

"Yes," I said. "I remember. You said you talk a lot when you're nervous too."

"You remembered that?" Dylan asked.

"Well…" I looked around. "To be honest, you made an unusual first impression, and you were distracting me."

"I like honesty like that!" Dylan said. "Not that fake sitcom crap where everything ends in hugs. It's refreshing." Dylan stopped walking for a moment. "Hopefully I wasn't a horrible distraction."

"So you just prefer cheesy one-liners that instigate further conversation?" I asked, smiling smugly at him.

"Point to you," Dylan said.

I found myself giggling a bit along with his slight chuckle. "No…" I said.

"No?"

"No, you weren't horrible," I said. "I swear you were going to screw up that job somehow though."

"I would've made it up to you," Dylan said. "You're a nice girl." He started walking again. "Nice, and honest."

Inwardly I felt remorse at having heard that. I was far from honest with Dylan. He didn't even know what gender I really was, let alone what I was really like. Sadly, even if I did like the guy, I couldn't let anything happen beyond friendship. I couldn't tell him now, and would end up keeping it from him for as long as possible. Eventually my little avoided truth would come up, and I don't think he would take it with stride so far into a relationship. Why even put him through all of that?

"So… do you go to school here?" I asked.

"Henley," Dylan said. "You?"

"Prescott," I lied. "I mean… I will be." I paused for a moment, afraid to say the next few words. "In a couple of years."

"Oh…" Dylan said.

I lowered my cup of cider from another sip. "That didn't sound like a good 'oh' to me."

"I just thought you were older," Dylan said. "A freshman like me, or same grade as Jillian."

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said.

"It would take a lot more than age difference to disappoint me," Dylan said. "It's too bad though."

"Why's that?"

"Well…" Dylan said. "I was thinking of asking you out." He sighed. "Your parents probably don't let you date yet do they?"

"Afraid not," I managed to choke out, relieved Dylan had given me an excuse to use before I could think of one.

"Maybe I'll see you at 'Tweens then," Dylan said, "or around the mall even."

"Perhaps," I said.

I took a moment to look around the busy street, allowing Dylan the opportunity to exit the conversation gracefully. Across the street, mixed up in a lively game of tossing rings at bottles, were Tiffany, Vanessa and Tracy. Rebecca stood at the next booth, with a girl I recognized from the pool party, and Kale tagging along, tugging at his sister's jacket. It seemed to be annoying Rebecca to no end, and I couldn't help but smile at the situation. Dylan must have read my smile as something else entirely.

"I guess I'll see you around then," Dylan said. "Was nice talking to you again, pretty lady."

"Yes it was," I said. "I mean… same to you."

Dylan raised his hand halfway into a nervous wave goodbye. I took my left hand off of my cup of cider just long enough to return the wave. Before another word passed between us, Dylan had turned and taken off down Main Street. My eyes stayed on him for a moment, until Tiffany's all too familiar excited voice pulled my focus back to the other side of the street. I turned just in time to see her wrapping her arms around Vince in a friendly hug.

If nothing else warmed me up, the small streak of rage running up my spine did the trick for a few moments. I waited until Tiffany broke the hug, and then stormed across the street. By the time I made it over to them, Vanessa and Tracy had moved on, and Tiffany and Vince were knee deep in conversation. The closer I got to them, the more I felt like interrupting the conversation with my fist in Vince's face.

"Hey!" Tiffany said, as she saw me approaching. "Here she is now." She stepped over to put her arms around me. "I've been looking everywhere for you." She talked over her shoulder to Vince. "My best friend Bailey."

Vince looked me over. "Ah… Bailey of course," he said, extending his hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Really?" I asked, more confrontational than surprised.

"Tiffany talks about you all the time," Vince said. "Well…" He gave Tiffany a knowing smile. "Not all the time."

I reached out my hand, prepared to shake Vince's hand. Instead, I found my hand being swept up in his and very quickly moved to his mouth. In no time flat he had his lips pressed against my bare skin, and stamped the back of my hand with a kiss. It felt strange to me. All in one single moment, it felt flattering, and revolting, and I wanted to wipe the back of my hand on his shirt. As I pulled my hand away, I noticed Vince taking notice of my nail polish.

"Nice color," Vince said.

"Thanks," I said.

My mind instantly withdrew its objection to the impromptu make out session Vince had had with my hand, and moved on to something else entirely. He made absolutely no indication that he recognized me. We were in the same art class together, and I sat by Tiffany every day. Surely Vince could deduce who I was, and that I happened to be Tiffany's boyfriend, and not her best girl friend. Either that, or he wasn't as smart as he presumed to be.

"It's actually nice to meet you in person," Vince said. "All I've heard so far are a few short stories Tiffany has told me."

"Oh…" I gave Tiffany a sideways glance. "Like what?"

"Just how you two met," Vince said. "How she feels when she's around you. That sort of thing."

"That sort of thing…" I now looked at Tiffany with a hint of betrayal in my expression.

"We were just about to go on the hayride," Vince said. "Would you like to join us?"

"Actually…" Tiffany said, bursting into the conversation. "I kind of wanted to talk to you alone Vince." She looked at me with a little hesitation and concern. "About what you said the other night… on the phone."

"Oh… that…" Vince said. "I guess we could find a place more private." He looked around the busy street. "If that's alright with Bailey?"

"I'm sure she won't mind," Tiffany said. She stepped over to Vince, and then turned back to me. "We won't be long. Promise."

Vince gave me a curious look. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I managed to get out in a shaky voice.

"She's probably just cold," Tiffany said, giving me another odd look.

"Actually…" I tried to think up the most insulting thing I could say to Vince at the moment, but nothing came out. The pair looked at me, expecting me to say something.

"You wanted to say something?" Vince finally asked.

Before I could speak, before I could react, I felt someone hook an arm around my left arm. Then almost immediately after, I had an arm around my right arm. I nearly spilled my cider, and my head whipped back and forth to see Megan on one side, and Tawny on the other. Tiffany gave me a pleasant smile, and then slipped her arm around Vince's arm. The two of them hesitated to move for a moment, and I saw my chance to say something get smaller and smaller. When I opened my mouth to protest, I heard another voice instead.

"Bailey you have got to see this!" Megan said.

"But I was just…" I managed to stammer out, as Tiffany and Vince waved, smiled, and walked away from me.

"Before you have a meltdown and cause a scene," Tawny whispered in my ear, as she and Megan dragged me away from the immediate area.

"Can this wait?" I asked.

The two girls shook their heads as they walked me down the street. We eventually stopped and stood, still arm in arm, in a rather secluded area away from the main festival. The few people who passed by were apparently too old to care what three twelve-year-old girls had to discuss. I glanced around. For some reason I actually expected to be shown something. Instead, all I got to see was Tiffany walking toward a booth on the far end of Main Street, her arm now wrapped around Vince's arm.

"What did you want to show me?" I asked, still not catching on.

"That was brutal," Tawny said. "You almost blew it there."

"A few more seconds…" Megan glanced around, and then back at me. "I think your male rage would've taken over."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I can see it in your eyes," Tawny said. "I could hear it in your voice. The disdain. The jealousy."

"You were two seconds short of throwing a jealous fit," Megan said.

"And worse…" Tawny said. "You would've shown yourself as Bailey B, when you're dressed as Bailey G."

"Testosterone overload," Megan said.

I stared longingly at Tiffany and Vince. Megan and Tawny were right. I wasn't only jealous, but I was mad as hell. Who did this guy think he was? Vince… Maybe I wasn't a fighter, but I really felt like punching his lights out. The fact that Tawny and Megan had stopped me, made me feel even worse. It felt like I couldn't even defend my honor, and instead had to retreat with the girls to the sidelines and watch.

"Who the hell is that jerk?" I asked. "And what is Tiffany…" I groaned, worming myself away from the two girls. "Why is she?" I looked down the street. "With him?"

"Calm down," Megan said, putting her hand on my arm.

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Well it doesn't look like nothing," I said.

"Look…" Tawny said. "You really do need to talk to her about Vince, but you can't do it like this."

"Like what?" I asked. "Jealous boyfriend?"

"Just relax," Megan said, glancing around the street.

"How can I relax?" I asked rhetorically. "My girlfriend is over there with some other boy." I took a staggered breath of cool air. "She's done this before. Who knows how many times, and with what other boys? I don't know if I can trust her." I looked at Tawny. "It's not like I go off and kiss other girls."

"Maybe you should," Tawny said, letting a bit of cynicism creep into her voice.

"Tawny…" Megan's sweet voice, riding upon the slightest hint of being part Korean, had grown reserved and sincere. "Could I talk to Bailey alone?"

"It's a free country," Tawny said. "I'll go bob for apples or something."

Tawny flashed me a smile, and strolled off in the other direction. Megan's right hand slipped into my left. It took me a moment to pull my mind away from what had occurred; at least long enough to stroll a few steps with Megan. My cider had cooled to only slightly warm by then, and I finished most of it before tossing it into a trashcan. Somehow Megan's hand felt warm on this chilly night. In fact her whole demeanor felt warm and inviting.

We walked for a few minutes in silence. Before long the cheering crowds and the other festival sounds drifted into the background, and our footsteps were all that remained. I could no longer smell the homemade breads or candles; only small hints of Megan's perfume hitching rides on the weak gusts of cold October air. The paltry remains of cider left on my tongue had me longing for more. Eventually we stumbled upon a park bench outside of a small barbershop, and we sat together.

"I know our circumstances may not be the same," Megan said, "but I know what you're going through."

"You do?" I asked.

Megan reached out her small hand, and let it rest upon my knee, which I had instinctively crossed over my other knee. "You feel as if you're hanging over a large empty space, about to fall at any moment." Her head dropped. "You have to fall eventually, but any place you could fall may end up hurting yourself or someone you love." She looked back up into my eyes. "You feel like you have to be miserable to make everyone else happy."

"How long did you feel that way?" I asked.

"I still do from time to time," Megan said. "Sometimes it's a struggle to push past it."

"But you do push past it?" I asked.

"Most of the time," Megan said. "There are times I think things would be better if I wasn't the way I was, or had the problems I have." She pulled her hand back to her own lap. "Perhaps I would fit in better."

"You seem to fit in pretty well," I said. "At least that's how I see it."

"But you don't see me all of the time," Megan said. "The other girls…" She sighed. "They can be cruel sometimes."

"What about Rachel and the others?" I asked. "You're pretty popular at school."

"Rachel helped me," Megan said. "She's stood up for me a few times, and helped me try to stand up for myself." She looked up and smiled at me. "I always though that you're supposed to find your friends. Seek them out. That sort of thing. Instead, what I've learned, most of the time, is that good friends find you." She gazed across the street at the empty storefronts. "Those are the friends you hold onto. They're usually the ones that will be there to help you through the storms in your life."

"You've grown a lot," I said, showing a half-smile.

"I guess you could say I've been through a lot," Megan said. "You on the other hand…" She looked into my eyes. "I think most of your journey is in front of you." Her hand moved to my shoulder. "It may be a curse to you, but you get to choose which path you take. I wasn't as lucky."

"You mean you were born this way?" I asked.

"We're all born a certain way," Megan said. "If you're asking was I born a girl… the answer is no." She took her hand away, and looked past me down the street. "I was born male in every technical sense of the word, but my… parts of me… certain things didn't work."

"Oh…" I said, immediately realizing what she meant. "I'm sorry."

"No," Megan said. "Don't feel sorry for me." She gave me a subtle smile. "I'm happy with who I am, or who I eventually will be." Her smile dropped. "You see… those times I think I might be better off without all of my problems, I just remember something." She found my hand with hers, and wormed her fingers around mine. "Those problems… what everyone sees as being 'wrong' with me… those are the things that make me unique."

I smiled, and dropped my head. "It's kind of funny."

"What is?" Megan asked.

"You just reminded me of something a friend said the other night," I said.

"What was that?" Megan asked.

"Oh, something about being myself," I said. "Everyone keeps saying I should find out what's unique about myself."

"Well it's good advice," Megan said. "I'm not going to be one to tell you that you need to find yourself, but I can tell you this." She looked me right in the eyes. "When you do, it's the best feeling ever."

"I wish I knew where to start," I said.

"I think you already have," Megan said.

"I have?"

"Remember our talk at the end of summer?" Megan asked. "When you told me to put myself out there more?"

"Yes," I said. "You certainly did."

"Well," Megan said. "Not right away." Her grip tightened a bit on my hand, reminding me we were still holding hands. "But I thought about what you said that entire night. Then I thought about it the next day, and that day turned into a week." She took a deep breath. "My parents said they wanted to move elsewhere, get me 'fixed', and start me in a new school where I would be better adjusted…" Megan sighed. "I didn't want it. I also realized I just couldn't sit there. I put my foot down."

"Really?" I asked, remembering how she mentioned her parents' philosophy on kids; seen and not heard.

"I'm not broken," Megan said, holding back some pain in her voice. "It hurt for me to say some of the things I said to my parents that day. I'm sure it hurt them to see their child show disrespect. That's the way they made their lives." She paused to glance sideways at the street, and I could see tears forming in her eyes. "I didn't want to just disappear, or slip into the background of another school. They agreed to give me time to adjust. So I started putting myself out there, and it worked for me." She pulled at my hand. "You need to find what works for you."

"I'm just afraid of losing something, or someone…" I said, thinking mostly about Tiffany.

"Maybe you have to lose something you think is dear to you, to find out what truly is dear to you," Megan said.

"Seriously…" I said. "I'm going to have to start calling you fortune cookie."

I flashed Megan a smile, and she returned one of her own. Then the cold took hold of me and I shivered for a moment. Megan slid closer to me, and let her head come to rest on my shoulder. Her hand stayed in mine, and it was beginning to warm mine up a bit. I let my cheek rest on her head. The mixture of coconut and honey permeated my nostrils, rising from her soft silky hair.

Megan smelled good, and felt good. I wondered if my own concoction of soft fragrances drove Nathan as crazy, the other night, as Megan did to me at that moment. If so, I would have to apologize to him profusely, and beg to make it up to him. I tried hard to keep my eyes open, afraid of losing myself in the moment. It was merely a show of friendship Megan offered me, nothing more, and I had to maintain that friendship with her.

"Keeping each other warm?"

We both looked up at Tawny. Her sarcasm managed to sneak into even the honest of questions and moments. She watched us for a moment, and then she grew a smile from ear to ear. In no time at all, Tawny had moved to my right side, and sat on the bench next to me. She pushed herself right up against me, and took my other free hand in both of hers. Megan, as calm as ever, put her head back down on my shoulder. Before I could think of an explanation, or deal with the intrusion, Tawny added to her statement.

"I'm freezing!"

"I told you to bring a jacket," Megan said. "You never listen to me."

"You didn't bring one either," Tawny said.

"I'm wearing layers," Megan said. "Layers or a jacket. You should've worn that cute hoodie I like." Her body heaved, overwhelmed in a feigned sigh. "Never listen. You could catch a cold you know."

"Whatever," Tawny said, blowing out a quick breath in exasperation. "You sound like my mother."

"Well your mother's a smart lady," Megan said. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I giggled at the two of them. "You sound like a married couple."

"I swear we are sometimes," Megan said.

"So how are my two favorite girls?" Tawny asked.

"I think we're okay now," Megan said, moving her head to look at me. "Aren't we?"

"I feel a little better," I said. "But…"

"You should talk to Tiffany," Megan said, reading my mind. "Ask her about Vince."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "They are probably just good friends."

"She never mentioned him before," I said.

"Well then nothing was worth mentioning," Tawny said.

I sat and thought about this for a moment. Tawny had a good point. If the guy was really important to Tiffany, then she wouldn't have kept that from me. Then again, I didn't tell Tiffany everything going on in my life. I guess she was entitled to secrets. She certainly allowed me to have some of my own. In fact, she never asked about any of my conversations with Rajan or even Nathan for that matter. I decided to let Tiffany make up her own mind if or when she would tell me about Vince, and moved on to other pressing issues.

"So what's the deal with Danielle and Vanessa?" I asked.

"Oh," Tawny said. "Now that's something to talk about."

"That's right," Megan said. "You weren't there that night."

"We were all out at the movies," Tawny said. "And you know that guy Danielle was talking to at the roller rink?"

"The Nick Carter wannabe?" I asked.

"Yeah him," Tawny said, chuckling a bit at my remark. "Well she really liked him, and was talking about how she wanted to go out with him, and so on and so on." She took a breath. "Anyway… Vanessa didn't know, so we can't really blame her for that, but she made a move on the guy." Her green eyes rolled up to the sky, as she raised her hand to about neck level. "And I do mean she made a move."

"She was all over the guy," Megan said.

"But like I said," Tawny said. "Vanessa didn't know Danielle liked him."

"So when Danielle found out," Megan said, picking up the story. "She confronted Vanessa about it, and they got into a huge argument."

"They were about three few seconds away from going at each others' throats," Tawny said. "Rachel broke it up… sort of."

"Right in the middle of the lobby at the movie theater," Megan said. "Both of them going at it."

"Well we weren't really in the mood for another movie," Tawny said. "At least I wasn't."

"You never are," I said, giving her a smile. "You just like to instigate them."

"You know me," Tawny said. "As much as I like messing with Vanessa, I didn't really care for the way Danielle was treating her."

"Even though she did go after the guy Danielle was interested in," Megan said, "I didn't think it was right either."

"Well she started bringing up old drama about Vanessa," Tawny said. "I mean right in front of people in the lobby. Most of it was stuff that happened in elementary school."

"Like she'd been saving it up all of those years," Megan said. "Vanessa just stood there and took it for awhile. All of those secrets they had and stuff she thought Vanessa did behind her back to cause her to lose friends."

"Anyway," Tawny said. "In an attempt to restore sanity, I tried to calm Danielle down." She let a sigh escape her soft lips. "She thought I was taking Vanessa's side, and started insulting me. I insulted her. Things got out of hand."

"And she eventually told Tawny to shut up and go make out with her lesbian plaything," Megan said. "Pointing me out for all of the people in the lobby."

"I almost took a swing at her for that," Tawny said, lowering her head. "Instead, Rachel stepped in, bringing up all kinds of dirt on Danielle."

"Pretty bad stuff too," Megan said. "Apparently Danielle has an eating disorder, on top of a long list of problems we never knew about."

"Danielle left crying," Tawny said.

"Vanessa even went after her," Megan said. "I mean out of all people… Vanessa…"

"Vanessa said they talked for a long time that night," Tawny said. "Now Danielle won't hardly talk to any of us."

"I think that's what bugs Vanessa the most," Megan said. "She thought they were on a path to restore their friendship, but now she just gets silence from Danielle. Now Vanessa thinks Danielle is starting rumors about her."

"She did mention her other friends not talking to her," I said. "Sucks what happened though."

"Kind of weird between them right now," Tawny said. "I think it even changed Vanessa a little."

"I really haven't noticed," I said. "Of course, it would take a lot to make me notice a change in Vanessa."

"Well I mean… she's not gonna change completely overnight," Tawny said, smiling at me. "She's been taking notice of her flaws lately. Self-examining herself. That sort of thing."

"Please don't tell her we told you all of this," Megan said.

"I really don't want to be involved anyway," I said. "I've got enough to deal with."

"Indeed," Tawny said.

"It's getting pretty late," Megan said. "We should go find your sister Tawny."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I'm still freezing though."

"Thought you would've warmed up by now," I said. "You two warmed me up."

"Yeah… well you're in the middle," Tawny said. She pushed her head close to mine, and put her nose to my cheek. "Does that feel warm to you?"

Tawny's nose felt like an ice cube on my cheek, except it wasn't wet, thankfully. She managed to touch me a few more times, before I could pull away. Megan joined the fun on the other side, trying to mess with me so that I would be forced to go back to Tawny's cold nose. It worked a few times, until I called for a truce. Tawny went in one last time, but this time she put her lips on my cheek. I still remember her soft lips, and the ever-so-slight trace of stickiness from her lip gloss.

The kiss didn't last long. Though I knew it was more of a token for being a good sport through her teasing, it left me with a strange feeling inside. Before I could recover from the feeling Tawny's kiss gave me, I felt another pair of lips on my left cheek. These lips were softer still, and the kiss lingered a bit longer. The kiss itself felt softer, and it felt like it had deeper meaning behind it than a simple friendly peck on the cheek. My venture into my thoughts at the moment, was cut short by the reentrance of Tawny's voice.

"Let's get some cider on the way back." Tawny looked down at me as she stood. "Was the cider any good?"

I nodded, restraining myself from lifting my hands to my cheeks.

"Well come on then!" Megan said, offering me her hand.

"My treat," Tawny said. "For my two favorite girls."

Tawny's hand reached out for mine. I took it, still lost in a daze from simple kisses. They weren't even sexy kisses, more spur of the moment. If I had moved an inch, they would've probably been painful to the kisser, and a rather sloppy outcome for me. I tried to shake the event from my mind, as Tawny's arm wrapped around my right, and Megan's arm wrapped around my left. Just as they had escorted me before, the two girls escorted me back; to the festivities lining Main Street on that chilly October night.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 6

I honestly didn't know what awaited me that night. Plans had been tossed around for the past few weeks, but nothing solid ever formed. Tiffany's spontaneity seemed refreshing at times. Yet it was the other times that concerned me. Those times when even Tiffany didn't seem to have any sense of direction, I found especially dreadful. However, she always seemed to amaze me, and that's why I went along with the things she did.

It had grown a little cooler in the past week. Tiffany's bus driver had turned the heat on, and the bus felt quite stuffy. Though I thought a few times about cracking the window next to me, I knew it probably wouldn't be appreciated by the other kids. It didn't matter anyway. My mind seemed completely wrapped around the possibilities that awaited me at Tiffany's house. She claimed it would be special, and I had no doubt that it would be. Still, the suspense was thick enough to cut with a knife.

I could now see her house from where the bus stopped upon the hill. Expecting to see Kate's car in the driveway, or even Melanie's, I was surprised to see none at all. Her parents had certainly grown more trustworthy. Unless they didn't know I was coming over after school. I turned my head to look at Tiffany. She simply turned her head and smiled at me. Then she put her hand on my arm.

"This is going to be so much fun tonight," she said. "Did you bring everything?"

I held up a duffle bag, one I had been worried about keeping in my locker all day. Inside of the bag were quite a few questionable items. Paranoia got the better of me around midday, when I started getting this bad feeling that someone might find out what was in it. Now, only one stop away, I would welcome my first breath of fresh air. Maybe I could even relax after I got off the bus.

I'd grown accustomed to the strange looks the other kids gave me. It was as if they knew everything about my condition, but didn't know anything about me personally. They stopped staring when Tiffany would kiss me at school, or when they'd see her take me by the hand. She did that now. I felt her hand wrap around mine, as she dragged me to the front of the bus. She seemed more excited than me, and she could hardly contain it as we stepped down the steps of the bus, and heard the sound of it pulling away.

"I love Halloween!" Tiffany said, still pulling me rather than walking with me.

I had my breath of fresh air, but only momentarily. I didn't get to enjoy it, or savor it. Tiffany and I jogged up her driveway. We stumbled up her front steps. By the time we reached her front door, she already had her house key out. A few seconds later we nearly toppled over into the entryway. The door barely shut before she was all over me.

Tiffany wrapped her arms around me. They slid up my sides, hooking under my own arms. She let her hands creep up my back until they were buried in my hair. Her breathing grew ragged, and I could feel the warmth of it upon my neck as she moved her cheek to mine. She pushed her soft lips against my skin, leaving a delicate kiss on the area in front of my ear. Another kiss followed, more forward on my cheek. Then I felt her lips on mine.

I licked my lips as Tiffany pulled away. The distinctive taste of cherry remained from her lip gloss. While I mused over the fact that I had watched her apply it on the bus, obviously awaiting this moment, Tiffany's lips went back to kissing my left cheek. Like a hummingbird going after nectar, her lips danced upon my skin. They kept going back further, and all I could do was let out a gasp when she licked my earlobe with her tongue.

"Ready to be my girlfriend tonight?" she asked, in a faint, breathy whisper.

Her breath on my ear made me melt. Tiffany had this way about her, which made me feel weak. It wasn't a controlling thing either, as she seldom used it to her advantage. I knew from watching television that some women could get whatever they wanted by turning up the heat a little. However, Tiffany seldom asked anything from me. She definitely had the power over me to do so.

"If it means more of this," I said, "then definitely."

Tiffany pulled back and looked into my eyes. "Maybe we can find a nice quiet spot at the party tonight."

When one of her pretty hazel eyes closed in a slow wink, I knew she was serious about the offer. She really didn't have to go to any trouble at all. Tiffany didn't demand, or even ask for me to go as a girl to Rachel's Halloween party. She merely assumed with the recent events in my life, that I might have fun doing so. I already knew my costume involved a dress, and since I had no other options, I wasn't going to back out of our unspoken arrangement.

"I think you're going to be happy with your costume," Tiffany said, taking the duffle bag from my hand.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nice try, but it's still a surprise," Tiffany said, moving away from me. "I'll go sort this out." She held up the bag. "Meet me in the dining room please."

I watched her disappear down the hallway and into her room. Then I moved my own small frame into her dining room. As I neared the dining room table, I noticed a whole array of things spread out on top of it. Several bottles of nail polish were set out in a neat row. There were towels and toe spreaders. I marveled at it all as I sat down in one of the chairs. Tiffany came into the room only a few seconds later.

"Unfortunately I did my own nails last night to save time," Tiffany said, holding up shiny, metallic blue painted fingernails. "So you get all of the attention today." She gave me a smile and wink. "I'll make it up to you though."

"I'm going to hold you to that," I said, "but I know you're good for it."

Tiffany smiled, and started perusing some of the items on the small dining room table. She opened boxes, moved bottles and cotton balls around, and made it to where half the table was filled up with just about anything to make nails look perfect. Eventually she had turned the room into a makeshift nail salon. She draped a small towel across the tabletop, and gestured for me to put my hands upon it. I did as requested. My nails looked dull. At Tiffany's request, I had not painted them.

Tiffany took my left hand in her hands. She studied each fingernail for a few seconds, and then brought out some nail clippers. I watched as she carefully cut each nail a little shorter, and made them look more uniform in appearance. Then she repeated the process on my right hand, taking just as much care as before. By the time she finished the last nail, she had already moved a bottle of nail polish remover over.

She dabbed the polish remover on a cotton ball, and set about cleaning my nails. I found it kind of odd, as I had no polish on them. Not even a spot of polish remained, as I had been very thorough. Still, she cleaned them carefully anyway. I soon found out why Tiffany cleaned my fingernails first. While the nail polish remover quickly evaporated from my nails, Tiffany uncovered a small box.

I watched Tiffany remove the contents of the box. Several little clear disc-shaped objects spilled out across the top of the table. As Tiffany pulled out a small bottle of liquid from the box, it finally dawned on me what the objects were. Tiffany had gotten a false nail kit for me. She certainly wanted to make the evening special. A feeling of excitement washed over me, as she started matching the nails up to my own for size.

"I thought you might want an opportunity to try these once in your lifetime," Tiffany said. She looked up at me with a smile. "They're not the best, but you could make them last the weekend if you wanted to."

"I think you're spoiling me," I said.

"I want you to feel special tonight," Tiffany said, lowering her face back down to the task.

"I already do," I said. "I'm with you aren't I?"

Tiffany shot her eyes up to look into mine. She gave me a nervous smile, followed by a very noticeable blush. I definitely caught her off guard with my charm. After lowering her eyes again, she finished matching up the nails. Then she reached for the bottle of glue, and shook it for a minute. Before applying the nails, she looked up at me. She had a solemn look upon her face, like she meant business with what she was about to say.

"These are far from permanent," Tiffany said. "So don't freak out once they're on."

"I wasn't planning on it," I said, amused she would even suggest such a thing.

"Most likely you won't," Tiffany said, "but guys see glue and usually freak."

"I'm enjoying the special attention," I said, reassuring her with a smile.

"Well just the same," Tiffany said, slightly returning the smile. "They can come off by soaking your fingers in warm water for a while." She laid out the nails for each finger. "If you need help, just ask your mom when you get home. I'm sure she knows how to get them off."

"I'm not worried about it," I said. "Don't you go worrying for me."

"Okay, okay," Tiffany said. "I'll just put them on then." She gave the glue one last shake, and then unscrewed the cap from it. "They're going to feel kind of weird. My mom got longer ones than I asked for. I guess she thought they were for me." She shook her head, as if chiding herself. "She overcompensates on everything feminine now, trying to turn me back straight or something by making me more of a girl."

"Tom tried to get me to do manly things to make me more of a man," I said. "So I know how that goes."

"I guess we're a lot alike in that respect," Tiffany said. "People are always trying to change what doesn't need changing. I'm actually pretty girly to start with, but I think these are probably too feminine for even me."

"More feminine is better for me anyway," I said. "Will make me blend in better." I added a nervous chuckle in an attempt to get Tiffany out of her temporary mood, but it failed to hit home.

"I guess that's true," Tiffany said. "Though you don't have to try so hard to blend tonight. It is Halloween after all." She moved the bottle of glue closer, and pulled the little brush from it. "I've only done this once, so bear with me."

Tiffany brushed a small even coat of glue onto the nail of my left pinky. She put the brush back into the bottle, and picked up the corresponding nail to my pinky. With the care of handling a breakable object, she rested the edge of the fake nail against the inside edge of my real nail. Then she pushed it down, and held it for a few seconds. She checked it carefully, and seeming pleased about it, she went on to the next nail.

Right down the line, one by one, Tiffany put a fake fingernail over each of my real nails. I admired my left hand, after she had moved to my right. They felt weird, as Tiffany had said they would. It mostly seemed like extra weight, but also like my real nail wasn't there. I knew they would take some getting used to, but they weren't a horrible feeling. They simply felt different, and different at that time in my life was always something I looked forward to.

"We'll let the glue set up for a minute or two," Tiffany said, removing herself from the table. "Then I'll shape them for you."

I sat there in relative silence for a moment. Tiffany had left the room, most likely to get something else ready. I wiggled my fingers, letting the false nails dance in the dining room light overhead. The nails still felt weird, but now seeing them on both hands, they felt extremely feminine. They were also pretty long, at least by my standards. From the end of my own fingernails, the false ones stuck out almost half an inch. I started to worry about how I would function with them tonight, when Tiffany slipped back into the room.

"I can probably start on the left hand," she said, sliding into her chair.

Tiffany spent a moment digging through her box of nail equipment. She had more things to use on nails than any of the other girls I knew, and I had seen them all do their own nails. While most of them liked painting nails, Tiffany liked grooming hers. She spent great detail at it, as if it were her own personal work of art. No doubt she had the best looking nails among the rest of us.

I thought about this little quirk of Tiffany's, as she spread out files and buffers. It wasn't like an obsession with her, as I had seen her spend as little as two minutes on her nails, but it happened to be a quirk I liked about her. There were several tiny things she did differently, that made her special to me. I mused about this one in particular, as she set about filing my false nails.

She put as much care into shaping my nails, as she put into an extensive session of caring for her own. The tiniest little things she took her time with, made things just a tiny bit better in my opinion. Tiffany liked to dot her I's with little circles. She tittled all of her T's and lowercase F's with a mark that looked like a tilde. It made her letters to me that much more delightful. When she put a heart over the I in my name, I knew it was something special.

"Do you…" Tiffany said, but shaking her head before finishing her thought.

"Do I what?" I asked.

"Nothing," Tiffany said. "I was just…" She put her file down, and placed her hand over it.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to look at her face.

Tiffany reached for another file, and lifted my ring finger up. "Do you think we'll ever be left alone?" she asked.

"We're alone right now," I said.

"No," Tiffany said, filing the rough plastic away at the edge of the nail. "I mean, do you ever think people will leave us alone?"

"You mean stop picking on us?" I asked.

"Yeah…" she said. "Or stop trying to change us."

"Sadly I don't think that will ever happen," I said. "It's like Nathan said. Some people are just out to make other people miserable." I let out a small sigh. "I think sometimes even people who love me don't always have my best interest at heart. And Tom's just a wildcard at the moment."

"Nathan sounds like a nice guy," Tiffany said, obviously steering away from the tougher subject. She reached over to switch files again. "Vince said pretty much the same, but he's optimistic that it'll all change one day."

"You like Vince huh?" I asked, letting disdain creep into my voice.

"He's nice," Tiffany said. "Easy to talk to about stuff."

"Easier than me?" I asked.

"In some ways," Tiffany said. "You're different though." She finished filing the nail on my ring finger, and switched files again for my middle finger. "In a lot of ways."

"I'm different?" I asked. "You mean more girly?"

"Well that's just a small part of it," Tiffany said. "I guess it's because I care about you so much. I can open up to you more, but not everything is easy to talk about with you."

"What about Vince?" I asked.

"What about him?"

"Do you care about him?" I asked.

"Well of course," Tiffany said. "He's a good friend."

She flipped a fallen strand of her black hair from her face, and tilted her head to the opposite side. I didn't want to read too much into that gesture, but it made me recall an article I read. The article was about how women displayed different signs to show they were interested. Needless to say, I shouldn't have been reading the magazine in the first place, but I got bored waiting in Rajan's office, and entertained myself with some random teen magazine.

At any rate, the article claimed a girl might play with their hair when discussing a boy. If they did, it could be a sign that they had a crush on the boy. Recalling the article didn't help put my mind at ease, but Tiffany had just said Vince was a friend. I didn't want to lose it, and start throwing accusations at her. She could have simply been moving pesky hair away from her face so she could work.

"So you like him?" I asked.

"About as much as you like Nathan I suppose," Tiffany said, without looking up to get my reaction.

The truth happened to be that I didn't know which end was up with Nathan. I really liked him, but not in any sort of way that could be misconstrued as an intimate relationship. We were simply close friends, or perhaps not entirely close at all. Tiffany obviously knew this, as I had pointed it out several times to her, but now the issue even confused me a bit. So was I to assume Vince was no more than a good, understanding friend to Tiffany? I couldn't assume. I had to know!

"Do you think he's cute?" I asked.

"Who?" Tiffany asked, looking up at me in surprise. "Vince?"

"No… Nathan," I said. "Of course Vince."

"Well…" Tiffany lowered her head. "I guess so."

"So you don't think he is?" I asked.

"Well maybe just a little bit," Tiffany said.

"How much is a little cute?"

"Hmmm…" Tiffany sighed. "He is cute. I have to give him that at least. Nathan's probably cuter than Vince if you had to choose. You're way more cuter than both of them though." She hesitated to go back to filing my nails. "What do you think?"

"About?"

"Vince," Tiffany said. "Do you think he's cute?"

Obviously Tiffany had misunderstood my prodding questions as girl talk. We were now officially discussing boys, and whether or not they were cute. Being in with a group of girls had gotten me quite accustomed to this ritual. While I was in my female persona around the girls, all bets were off. They never made me feel uncertain of my sexuality, as they deemed me a girl, and therefore I was free to discuss boys with them. Still, I always had this voice in the back of my mind telling me not to get too involved with the discussions.

"He's okay," I said.

"Oh come on," Tiffany said, looking up at me. "Just okay?"

"Okay he's cute," I said. "Not my type though."

"So now you have a type?" Tiffany asked, a smile quickly spreading on her face. "Is Nathan more your type?"

"I didn't mean it that way," I said. "He's a bit too… I don't know… preppy for my taste."

"Lies!" Tiffany said, shaking her head. "You like preppy." She put her head back down to finish my thumbnail. "If preppy had lips, you'd be making out with it."

"That's so unfair," I said.

"Maybe just a little unfair," Tiffany said. "I can't blame you though. I like the preppy look too."

"Like Jillian the other night?"

"She was too cute in that outfit," Tiffany said. She paused on my nails for a moment, and sighed. Most likely she was picturing Jillian. "But we were talking about Vince," she said, snapping herself back to attention.

"Do you…" I took a deep breath. "Do you want to go out with him?"

Tiffany dropped the nail file onto the table. "Are you crazy?" she asked, looking up at me.

"You seem to like being around him," I said.

"Of course," Tiffany said, going back for her buffing stick. "We're friends. I like being around all of my friends. Not like we're…" She stopped to look up at me. "Is that what you thought?"

"Huh?"

"You thought we were on a date the other night," Tiffany said. "That's what you thought… And I kind of ran off and ignored you." She pulled my hand into hers. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you thought that way." She started to run her other hand up my arm. "We're just friends, I swear."

"So you don't…"

"Not in the slightest," Tiffany said. "Sorry I've been kind of neglecting you lately. I should have told you."

"Told me what?" I asked.

"Vince…" She took a deep breath. "I've been going to counseling." She sighed. "My mom put me up to it. It's a group thing. Some place for me to discuss my 'lesbian tendencies' as she puts it." Tiffany let out another long sigh. "She still thinks she can cure me, and I'm probably too young to even be thinking about all of it."

"I know the feeling," I said, thinking of Tom and Rajan in the back of my mind. "I don't even understand half the time what I'm dealing with."

"I know it's been an eye opener for me," Tiffany said. "Most of what we talk about is pretty mature. There's some high school kids in the group even." She let a little air pass through her lips. "Makes me feel older than I am, but it's a new perspective."

"So that's how you met Vince?" I asked, trying to get her mind off of whatever made her sigh. I felt bad knowing this was partly a result of my spending the night on the Fourth of July.

"Well Vince is in my group," Tiffany said. "And believe me… you're more his type than I am."

"What?"

"Vince is gay," Tiffany said, giggling a bit about it.

"Wait! Really?"

Tiffany nodded. "But don't spread it around like Danielle would." She set about buffing my nails. "I don't think he's ready for the whole school to know about it."

"I know how that feels too," I said.

"You should come to our group," Tiffany said. "There's some pretty nice people there. A few go to our school, but I totally trust them."

"I don't know," I said.

"Thought I would offer," Tiffany said.

"I'm finding it hard enough to talk to Rajan half the time," I said. "I don't know about a group of people our age."

"Well I won't push you into it," Tiffany said.

"Hold on…" I said. "Vince said he heard a lot about me. Does he know?"

"He… does," Tiffany said. She bit her lower lip as she looked up at me. "I know I promised I wouldn't tell anyone else, but then I couldn't stop talking about you. He kept wanting to know more about my relationship with you, so I kept telling him more." She took a quick breath. "Eventually he put it all together and realized it was you. I had to say something so he'd keep it to himself." Her eyes grew watery. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said. "How could you hide it?" I laughed a bit. "I mean… here you're telling him that you're a lesbian, and kissing a boy at school."

"Yeah…" Tiffany said. "And you're way too special to keep to myself."

"Thanks," I said, blushing a bit. "You're special to me too."

"Thank you," Tiffany said.

"Wait…" I closed my eyes for a moment. "That means the others in your group know about me by now."

"I've never asked," Tiffany said, "but I assume they do. They never bring it up either."

"So you think more people know I'm a girl on the weekends?" I asked, opening my eyes and letting out a sigh. "At this rate I might as well come out."

"No don't do that," Tiffany said. "That's something you need to be totally sure about."

"Is this what's been bugging you recently?" I asked.

"Well… that," Tiffany said. "Among other things."

"What things?"

"Have you…" Tiffany shook her head again, a habit I had noticed becoming more frequent. She seemed to be second-guessing herself more. "Do you ever think about being a girl?"

"Isn't that obvious?" I asked, trying to be cute.

"I'm serious," Tiffany said. "I mean really considered it."

"I have," I said. "I even asked Rajan to stop testosterone treatments."

"Really?" Tiffany asked, looking up at me. Her face displayed a genuine aura of excitement at the news. "You never said anything about that."

"Well," I said. "It's pretty recent. I'm going back to his office Monday to discuss it."

"Are you going to start female hormones?" Tiffany asked.

"I'm not sure yet," I said. "We're going to look at what's down the road."

"Do you want to be a girl?"

"I've thought about it," I said. "I'm still not sure."

"I still think you'd make a cute girl," Tiffany said. "Cuter even than the real girls we hang out with."

"I think you're biased," I said.

"Maybe a little," Tiffany said, "but I'm also being honest."

"I guess I'll just have to see what Rajan thinks Monday," I said.

Tiffany nodded. "Seriously though… I think you and Tawny have the most going for you, as far as looks."

"Really?" I asked. "Tawny?"

"Oh yeah," Tiffany said. "She's right behind you in the cute race."

"Maybe if she'd drop the Goth look," I said.

Tiffany giggled a bit. "No, that's not Goth. That's like skater crashing into grunge."

I had to laugh at her remark. It was true enough. Tawny had the attitude and everything, but she never looked quite right in the style she was going after. That is to say if she was even going for a particular style to begin with. Though Tiffany did confirm one thing I secretly thought about on my own. Somewhere beneath the messed up style and cynicism, there was definite beauty in Tawny.

"I sometimes wish she'd let it out," I said, realizing my thought had entered the realm of spoken word.

"Who?" Tiffany asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"You're talking about Tawny aren't you?" Tiffany asked.

"I was just picturing…" I looked into Tiffany's curious eyes. "Yes. I'm talking about Tawny."

"So you're thinking exactly what I'm thinking," Tiffany said. "You'd like to see Tawny all dolled up for a change?"

"It couldn't hurt," I said.

"Well…" Tiffany grinned at me. "If Megan got her way tonight, you might get your chance."

"Really?"

"Megan is in charge of their costumes. Guess we'll see," Tiffany said, as she looked over at the clock. "I better get busy finishing these," she said. "We still have to paint them."

Tiffany soon became engrossed in filing and buffing my fake nails. She had no problem picking up the pace, and soon had files flying from one hand to the other. I simply sat and watched her, trying to pick up some tips as she worked. As I sat there in silence, I thought about the question she asked. Did I want to be a girl? It was definitely something I was willing to discuss, but I decided it best to leave it up to the professionals.

The minutes to follow seemed like a blur. Between small talk and even smaller jokes, Tiffany managed to get my nails filed, buffed and ready for painting. She cleaned up a few of the items she dragged out to work on them with, and put them off to the side. In keeping with the spirit of letting her do my entire costume, I let her pick the nail color as well. She gathered up what she needed to paint them, and then gave me an odd look.

"What?" I asked.

"I just can't believe you're doing this tonight," Tiffany said, stepping over behind my chair.

"Going to a party?" I asked, jokingly.

"You know what I mean," Tiffany said. "If you knew how much this meant… to let me do your costume…" She put her arms around me from behind, and bent down to rest her chin on my head. "This is going to be a fun night. I can tell."

"I'm excited about it," I said.

"Well we should stop wasting time then," Tiffany said, quickly removing herself from around me. "Could you turn your chair please?" She stepped around the table. "It'll make it easier for me to paint your toenails."

"Sure," I said, standing from the chair. "Did you decide on a color yet?"

"I did," Tiffany said, "but first…"

She stepped over to where I was standing, and quietly turned me around to face her. Before I could realize which way I was facing, Tiffany had her arms up and around my neck. I nearly lost my balance, as she almost fell into my arms. It was like her body went limp, and she hung on my neck and shoulders. The shift in balance caused me to reach out, for anything, to steady myself.

I ended up holding Tiffany around the waist. She pushed nose beneath my chin, and used it to push my head back. A sigh escaped me, as her soft lips kissed up my neck and chin. They kept ascending, until finally they reached my own lips. We didn't kiss. Instead, Tiffany held back from me, not letting our lips touch. My need to kiss her led to her walking me away from my chair.

She took my wrists. I felt my arms moving up, but all of my attention was focused on stealing a kiss. Tiffany would not kiss me though. I vaguely remember her hands sliding back down my extended arms. They slithered down my sides, and slipped in underneath my shirt. Now I knew her intent, and I gladly let her take my shirt off. By the time my shirt had slipped from over my head, Tiffany's lips were back, hovering an inch away from mine.

I could hardly contain the urge to just lunge forward to kiss her. It kept growing inside of me. Tiffany must have seen it in my eyes, for when I attempted to steal a kiss, she moved back just out of reach. I tried again, and my lips met the index finger of her right hand. She pushed the finger against my lips, and from behind it her head slowly shook back and forth.

A moment later, Tiffany's hand went for the zipper and button of my baggy jeans. Once the waistband gave slack, the jeans slid down easily over my pink panties. Tiffany smiled when she saw them on me. I wore them under everything, not only for the sake of convenience, but also the fact I didn't want to be completely nude in front of her, or Kate for that matter. For a moment I imagined how embarrassing it would be for Tiffany's older sister to see me naked.

Though Tiffany had seen me naked, it still felt uncomfortable to be that vulnerable. Right now she had an unfair advantage, as she stood totally clothed in jeans and a green hoodie. She hadn't even removed her green Converse All-Stars, let alone anything else she had on. Kate would've been fully clothed as well, making the situation even more humiliating. I couldn't deal with two girls standing over my naked body.

Tiffany seemed to marvel at the fact that I still couldn't grow any hair on my body. At least it appeared that way, as she stooped down to look over my smooth legs. She ran her hands down my legs, gazing upon them with genuine curiosity. Maybe she thought I should have hair on them by now, or maybe she thought I shaved them for the occasion. My jeans pooled at my feet, and Tiffany helped me step out of them, as she slid my sneakers off.

"How much time do we have?" I asked.

"Not enough," Tiffany said. "The party's at seven, and we haven't really even started yet."

"I meant how much time alone?" I asked.

"Definitely not enough for what you're thinking," Tiffany said, giving me a sly grin.

"You don't even know what I'm thinking," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"I think it's safe to assume," Tiffany said, pushing me back into my chair. "And if you were thinking what I think you were thinking, I think you better stop thinking about it." She started slipping my ankle socks off. "Because I don't think I would be able to think clearly enough to finish what we're supposed to be doing, if we started thinking about the other thing."

"What are we supposed to be doing?" I asked, hoping she'd forgotten already. "Because I think we could find time."

"Kate's bringing Melanie over," Tiffany said, as she put her hands on my thighs. "They're going to help us with our hair, but she said to have your nails done before they get here. So we have even less time than I think we do."

"I could do my own," I said. I noticed the vague look upon Tiffany's face, and thought it warranted further explanation. "My mom showed me how to do a few styles."

"Oh…" Tiffany said. "Your hair. That's awesome!" She smiled at the newfound information. "But they're going to do a whole… thing… curls and stuff."

"You really went all out for this," I said. "Getting your sister involved."

"I told you I wanted to make it special for you," Tiffany said, using my naked thighs to push herself back to a standing position. "Incase you decide you don't want to next year." She gathered up my clothes. "Melanie and Kate volunteered to be honest. I didn't really have to ask them."

"They get a kick out of this don't they?" I asked.

"They really do," Tiffany said. "Kate really likes you. She thinks it's fun that you're willing to dress, and Melanie…" She lifted my sneakers and put them on top of the pile of my clothes in her arms. "Well… her boyfriend is that macho type that thinks it challenges his masculinity or something. Her words, not mine. So I guess it's fun for her to have someone to play around with too."

"Should I get dressed or something?" I asked, suddenly calling attention to my own nakedness.

"I don't want your costume to get ruined," Tiffany said. "We're all used to seeing panties and bras, but if you're uncomfortable, I could get my robe for you."

"Can't I just put my clothes back on?" I asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

"No silly!" Tiffany said. "Then they might get ruined. Besides, we'll lose the spirit of things." She stepped over to the doorway of the dining room. "We still have to paint those nails. Your toes too. Then Melanie might decide to wash your hair when she gets here." She paused to take a breath. "I'll get you my robe."

I couldn't argue, nor could I do anything about my predicament. Even if I wanted to throw my clothes back on, I couldn't anyway. She had left the room already, taking them with her, most likely to her room. I knew I wasn't allowed in her room unless someone was home to watch us. If her parents found out, she'd be in big trouble. It all wasn't worth getting Tiffany in trouble, especially on Halloween.

However, what if her parents came home now and found me in my current state. Little could be said in my own defense of why I was sitting in their dining room in nothing but panties. I hoped Tiffany got back with the robe very soon. Even Kate and Melanie would think this was odd. I was almost ready to go meet Tiffany halfway, when she came back through the kitchen. She carried, over her arm, a white robe with small floral decorations around every hem.

"It's kind of girly, but…" Tiffany looked at me with an amused smile.

"I'm not complaining," I said.

"I put your school clothes in your duffel bag," Tiffany said. "You can change at Rachel's to go home if you want, or just wear your costume home." She gestured for me to stand up. "Either way, the costume's yours to keep."

"I'll probably just wear it home," I said. "It's Halloween anyway, so I'm not worried about Tom."

Tiffany smiled, and walked the robe over to me. "Be careful with your nails," she said, as she held the robe up for me. "Catching them on something like this will hurt like crazy." She quickly yanked the robe away. "Wait! I got an idea!"

Tiffany tossed the robe onto the back of another chair, and scurried out of the room. Once more I waited, unsure how long it would be until she returned. This time I didn't wait long at all, as she burst back into the dining room. She had what appeared to be a one-piece swimsuit in her hands. It had navy blue and white horizontal stripes covering the entire piece. Tiffany held it out to me.

"It goes underneath your costume anyway," she said. "I thought the extra coverage might be more comfortable for you."

"Thanks," I said, taking the item of clothing from her, and looking it over. "Are we going swimming?"

"I tried to find just a bodysuit for it," Tiffany said, "but they didn't have one in our size. I mean your size." She gathered the robe up in her arms. "So Kate suggested a swimsuit." She nodded toward my panties. "And you can wear it without those. It'll be less bulky that way."

Her suggestion made me a little nervous. I felt like she wasn't exactly hinting at me to take them off, but rather telling me. So my initial reaction was to move to the bathroom to change. Then I noticed Tiffany looked on at me with an anxious, yet curious glint in her hazel eyes. My panties were the last little thin cotton piece of defense I had left. I think she wanted me to take them off right there in front of her. She had seen everything I had to offer before, but now she seemed interested in seeing it again.

"It's not mandatory," Tiffany said. "Just think you'd be more comfortable without them."

"Uh…" I glanced around the room. "I'd feel less comfortable without them right now."

"There's nobody here," Tiffany said. "Besides, I've seen it before."

"I know…" I looked into her eyes. "It just feels… I don't know…"

"You want me to turn around?"

"No," I said. "It's okay."

"It's not like I'm going to stare," Tiffany said. "Just go for it. Get it over with."

Her abrupt words of somewhat expressionless encouragement got me moving. Once the panties slipped over my hips, I had no more hesitation. Sure, I was nervous as hell, but now they were already coming off. Another few inches and they just dropped lifelessly to the floor. Tiffany didn't stare, but she did glance. I knew she wouldn't be able to constrain herself from getting a peak. I would have done the same had it been her in my position.

The whole scenario felt so straightforward that my mind wandered more than Tiffany's eyes. For some reason I wanted her to take advantage of the situation. It was an odd feeling, and one I never felt before with anyone else. However, with her totally clothed, and me totally nude, I wanted her to start making out with me. I wanted her to tease me into a frenzy like she had done so many times before.

Before I knew it, I had the swimsuit sliding up my legs. Tiffany watched me dress, but her expression didn't change much. I was pretty sure she got in a few more glances of a certain object between my legs, but I didn't want to call her on it. The swimsuit wasn't exactly my size, and Tiffany soon came over to help me get it on. It seemed to be squishing me everywhere.

"It's not as stretchy as some of the other swimsuits," Tiffany said, as she pulled the straps over my shoulders. "I got the same size as the one you wore this summer, but that one had more give."

"It is a little tight," I said.

"Well…" She gave the swimsuit a tug and pulled it up my body another inch. "You want it to be tight in certain… areas." Her eyes moved down.

"I guess that's true," I said. "It's not uncomfortable though."

"I didn't think it would be," Tiffany said. "Plus Kate decided to add the extra padding, so you won't have your breasts moving."

"Always a plus," I said. "Can't have breasts roaming around on me."

Tiffany smiled, shaking her head. She gave the swimsuit a few more minor adjustments, including a light smoothing rub between my legs. Then she turned to get her robe and held it up for me to slip on. After my hands came through the sleeves, she wrapped it around me while embracing me from behind. We stayed like that for a moment, her hugging me, and me holding her arms around me. Eventually she tied the belt of the robe for me, and then motioned for me to sit again.

It didn't take long at all for Tiffany to decide my toenails needed a little work. I'd been trying to keep up with them on my own, but I admit I'd neglected them a few times. Tiffany knew more about it than I did at any rate. She busied herself with trimming, shaping and filing, as I looked on and enjoyed the pampering. Why she cared so much about fixing something up that would never be seen tonight, was beyond me.

"You should get a pedicure before winter hits," Tiffany said. "Kate takes me to this great place at the mall." She looked up and smiled. "You're welcome to come."

"I'll think about it," I said, thinking more about not wanting to be seen in a nail salon by kids in our class.

Tiffany went back to the small task at hand. I say small because I did take decent care of my nails. In no time at all she had my toes in her lavender spreaders and finally unveiled her mystery color. She picked fuchsia. I wasn't too surprised about it, as she normally went for shades of pink on me. It was just hard to imagine these large talons now on my fingers as being bright pink.

Normally I got into this more. I'd gotten used to painting my own nails, and liked to do so at least twice a week. When someone else did them, like Tiffany, I felt pampered and special. Maybe she knew this, and added it as one more thing to make me feel special. The only problem was the fact it was all lost on me today. It didn't feel the same as it had so many times before. False nails aside, today it felt like any other day when I would paint them myself.

I watched Tiffany. She didn't take her time, but neither did she do a hasty job. Maybe it was because of this that it felt more like a natural occurrence than something unique. It felt like business as usual, like a girl simply helping another girl out with her nails. Something about it felt routine. Was it no longer special to me, or had I crossed some point where it felt like this is just what girls do?

Maybe I wanted to be a girl more than I thought. It would definitely be something to discuss with Rajan on Monday. Perhaps I'd come so close to barriers on things that the barriers started to disappear. I don't think Tiffany noticed the change either. How could she possibly know the inner workings of my mind? How could she know that something she thought as a special event, had turned into further evidence that I should be a girl?

"You probably won't get to do this as often pretty soon, huh?" Tiffany asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" Tiffany finished up my last two toes. "You're going to have gym next semester." She stood to get the hand towel off of the table, and draped it across my lap. "Probably better that you don't have them all painted up for the guys to see."

"I'll just wear socks to cover them," I said.

"Well you can't wear socks in the shower," Tiffany said, giggling.

"True," I said, "but it's last period. I can shower at home."

"What if they make you shower?"

"I don't think they do that anymore," I said. "Some law against it."

"There's no law against it," Tiffany said, laughing at the suggestion.

"Then I'll see the first week," I said.

"Better safe than sorry."

Tiffany had me put my hands on the towel. After pulling a chair over, she started painting my fingernails. She went a bit slower on them, taking her time to make them look nice. They would be seen after all. My toenails were just like a little added bonus, a secret beneath everything that only Tiffany and I knew about. Thinking about it that way, made it seem a little more special to me.

"I wish I could just stay in art class," Tiffany said. "I have to take gym too."

"Art is by far more fun to me," I said. "I won't get to see you, Tawny or Vanessa either."

"Not unless we do coed stuff," Tiffany said. "And according to Tracy, that only has happened a few times this semester for her." She looked up at me suddenly. "Hey! You'll get a chance to get to know Vince at least."

"Oh," I said. "He got stuck with gym then too?"

"I think we all pretty much did," Tiffany said. "About half of our art class is going to be in gym."

"That's not going to be too bad then," I said. "Except the other half worries me."

"You'll be fine," Tiffany said. "Just act all competitive and they'll think you're one of the guys."

"Way to stereotype," I said.

Tiffany and I shared a slight laugh. Our small little conversation had nearly taken us through the task of her painting my nails. She finished up on three more, and then left the room with my panties in her hand. While Tiffany was out of the room, I heard her front door open. Then I heard Kate's voice as she loudly conversed with someone with her. Melanie's voice rang out in response to Kate's, and the two of them continued to talk down the hallway to Kate's room.

A moment of silence passed. It seemed boring to me, to sit by myself waiting for someone to come into the room. I had the urge to go greet the two high school ladies, but figured I'd somehow mess up Tiffany's hard work. So I sat. I sat with nothing to do, but wait for the paint to dry, or rather the polish. If I strained a bit, I could hear the three talking softly in the other room.

"Well where is she?" Kate asked, somewhere close to the kitchen.

"Dining room," Tiffany yelled to her sister.

"There's my girly girl!" Kate said, as she strolled through the kitchen.

Kate's hair looked amazing. She had told me what she planned to do with it, but I'd forgotten. Her silky black hair had been put up into flowing tresses of endless curls. They bounced as she hurried over to me. I suddenly recalled our discussion about her getting Pam, Melanie's mother, to do her hair. Then I recalled her saloon girl outfit, and how amazing it would probably look now with the hair.

"Not very talkative," Kate said. "Are you in shock?"

"I was just…" I looked up at her, my eyes probably straining in their sockets. "Your hair looks amazing."

"Aw," Kate said. "Thanks." She put her hand up to lightly touch it. "So you like the curls?"

"I love them!" I said.

"Good!" Kate said, somewhat mocking my excitement. "Because Melanie's going to give you more than you can handle." She looked down. "Ooh, the nails came out great. Let me see!"

"Don't touch them!" Tiffany said, bursting through the door. "I just got them painted."

"What have you been doing all of this time?" Kate asked, raising an eyebrow at her sister.

"The false nails took longer than I thought they would," Tiffany said, giving me a knowing look. "I need to give everything another coat."

"Why don't you let me finish up?" Kate asked. "Melanie can start on your hair."

"Work, work, work," Melanie said, coming into the kitchen. "My job is never finished. Hey Bailey."

"Hi Melanie," I said, a bit shyly. It wasn't everyday that pretty high school girls addressed me.

"You haven't even started your job," Kate said.

"And who put all the bells and whistles on your costumes?" Melanie asked.

"She's been busy," Tiffany said, more to me than Kate.

"I know," Kate said. "I'm just giving her a hard time."

I couldn't help sneaking a peak at other areas of Kate's body, as the three of them quibbled. She had on a pair of short, tight jean shorts, and a rather snug blue turtleneck sweater that left little to the imagination. Her legs sprung from her shorts like tightly coiled springs, clad in black nylon tights and showing off every little bit of muscle. Kate had amazing legs, even in sneakers, and her only rival in the room at the moment happened to be Melanie.

Melanie cheated, however, with her constant wearing of three or four inch heels. They made her legs seem more sculpted. Together with the light sheen of her pantyhose, Melanie's legs stood out beneath her flowing green and blue plaid skirt. Her sweater happened to be more modest than Kate's. It was light gray, a bit loose on her, and had one of those oversized collars that could be slipped off the shoulders. Though Melanie wore it like a proper lady.

"Well let's get you started," Melanie said, holding out her hand to wave Tiffany forward. "I'll be back to fix your hair up Bailey."

"Looking forward to it," I said, giving Melanie a pleasant smile.

Kate stepped over and turned the dining room light up on high. "Are you excited about tonight?" she asked.

"I'm a little nervous," I said.

"Why's that?" Kate asked, as she carefully lifted my feet onto her lap.

I watched her pick up the nail polish and start on my toenails before responding to her. "I know it's Halloween," I said, "and you can dress up and pretend to be something you're not."

Kate finished another toenail, and then looked up at me. "You don't feel like you're pretending?"

"I used to feel like I was," I said. "Now I just feel like I'm pretending to be someone that's pretending to be someone I'm not." I paused for a moment to think about what I said. "Does that make sense?"

"It makes perfect sense to me," Kate said. "Maybe not the way you said it, but I understand." She finished one foot, and went on to the next with the fuchsia nail polish. "You're thinking you feel more like a girl, pretending to be a boy sometimes?"

"Sometimes," I said. "But tonight I feel like I'm having to be a girl who's pretending to be a boy pretending to be a girl."

"Are you saying you're afraid of enjoying it?" Kate asked, finishing another toenail.

"Something like that," I said.

"Well that's just silly," Kate said. "You should enjoy this night more than anything." She started on the next toenail. "All bets are off on Halloween. I say you go out and play the part. Have fun with it."

"You mean actually be a girl?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Kate said. "This is probably the one night of the year you can fall into character and nobody will care one way or the other." She finished up another toenail. "I just wish it was like that all the time for you."

"So I shouldn't try so hard to hide my true feelings?" I asked.

"No," Kate said. "Have fun! In fact, you'd be better off letting your feelings out tonight. It'll make you appear more natural." She paused before painting the last nail. "I mean, don't be stupid, but do make the most of it."

"I won't do anything stupid," I said, smiling at her.

"And Tiff was right," Kate said, looking at my feet. "You could use a pedicure." She looked at me and smiled. "I'll take you both. My treat."

"You really don't have to do that," I said.

"I insist," Kate said. "We'll make a day of it. Lunch and a movie, or something." She patted my bare legs. "It'll be fun."

"Do I have a choice?" I asked.

"Nope," Kate said, giving me a grin.

Kate helped me ease my feet back to the floor, and then she repositioned her chair. She had me put my legs under her chair, so that my feet rested against the cross rail in the middle. I found that with my heels on the floor, and the balls of my feet resting on the rail, there was very little chance of me messing my nails up. It was a rather clever technique. Kate situated herself so that she sat straddling my legs and facing me.

"Tiff did a pretty nice job on these," Kate said, examining my fake nails. "Think I'll put another coat on them, and a top coat on everything." She reached for the bottle of fuchsia polish. "It'll have plenty of time to dry while Melanie does your hair."

I didn't offer any resistance, as I'd gotten tired of fighting girls today. Instead I tried to maintain control, as every time Kate shifted forward to paint a nail, her tights would rub against my bare legs. Not only that, but each time she leaned forward, my nose would detect a light hint of her perfume. Mixed with the scent of the nail polish, I felt like Kate had trapped me in some sort of lair of femininity. I pictured her, for a brief moment, holding me against my will, and using her feminine wiles to keep me prisoner.

"You know…" Kate said, as she carefully put an even coat of polish on my right middle nail. "If you're ever serious about not pretending anymore, our offer to teach you still stands."

"Teach me?" I asked, still trying to climb out of my daydream.

"To be more feminine," Kate said. "Remember Melanie and I talked about it with you?"

"Oh," I said. "Right." I watched Kate finish up my index nail, and move to my thumb. "Like I said, you'll be the first person I go to."

"In all seriousness," Kate said. "We'd be more than willing to help you."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," Kate said. "Just let us know."

Kate looked up at me with a genuine smile upon her face. She leaned over closer to me. Her perfume overpowered the smell of the nail polish for a brief moment. Soon her lips, soft as a rose petal, were pressed against my forehead. I didn't know what to do. All I could think to do was shut my eyes. My girlfriend's sister was kissing me! I started to panic, thinking any moment Tiffany would walk in and see us, but then Kate removed herself and went back to painting my nails.

"I like you girly girl," Kate said. "You're like another sister, or slightly effeminate brother to me." She paused before painting the next fingernail. "And I don't mean the latter to be insulting. So I hope you don't take offense."

"I don't," I said. "I mean, it doesn't bother me much anymore."

"Less talky, more do-y," Melanie said, strolling through the kitchen.

"I was just telling Bailey that our offer to train her still stands," Kate said.

"Oh," Melanie said. "Does she want to?"

"No," I said. "I mean, not at the moment, but I'm considering it."

"Okay," Melanie said. "Sure though. No problem. Just let us know if you want to start, and we can start whenever."

"What do you need?" Kate asked, watching Melanie dig through a bag.

"I'm looking for the ribbon," Melanie said.

"It's in the bag on my bed," Kate said. "Did you figure out what to do with the front?"

"I just gave her curls off to the side," Melanie said. "I think your mom would flip if we cut her bangs."

"Probably," Kate said. "Might be too tomboyish for her." She turned back to look at me, and rolled her eyes. "How much longer you got in there?"

"Not much longer," Melanie said. "Should I do one or two ponytails?"

"I think one," Kate said. "Go for the classic."

"Alrighty," Melanie said. "I'll be back to go all Shirley Temple on Bailey."

I waited until Melanie left the room before I said anything. "What did she mean by that?"

"What?" Kate asked.

"Who's Shirley Temple?" I asked.

Kate stopped what she was doing. She abruptly looked up at me. With her eyes she searched for any inclination that I might be joking. Her face carried a solemn look, like she hadn't understood my question. I thought that maybe I should interject and claim I was only kidding, but perhaps I'd waited a bit too long on it. She already knew I was serious.

"You don't know who Shirley Temple is?" Kate asked.

"Should I?"

"Well…" Kate said. "It's probably not going to be on any history exam, but it wouldn't hurt for you to know." She went back to painting my fingernails. "She was an actress, mostly known for stuff she did as a kid, but also known for the big curls in her hair." She finished the nail she was working on. "That's what Melanie meant by it. She's going to give your hair great big bouncy curls."

"Well now I know," I said.

"And don't you forget it!" Kate said.

I laughed a bit at her fake seriousness. She finally finished my fingernails, and after checking my toenails, decided to put a top coat on them. I honestly didn't need a top coat, as they weren't going to be seen all night. One of the few things I knew about my costume, was that it was being worn with white tights and my silver ballet flats. That's how I knew not one toenail would be seen all night long.

Kate continued to offer small talk with me, asking me about school and home. I asked her a few questions about high school, to which her answers surprised me a bit. Everything sounded bigger and better, yet the classes sounded harder and longer. Still she got my hopes up for more variety in choosing the classes. She finished my toenails, and I pushed my feet back under her chair.

Melanie returned to the dining room soon after. While she set up curling irons and other hair products, Kate talked to her about something that had happened that day, or the day before. I felt completely out of the conversation, so I sat there in silence. As I recall, it did involve something about a boy Kate seemed interested in. She never mentioned him by name, but from various clues I concluded the boy to be an athlete of sorts. Oh, and he was charming apparently.

"We can probably put the top coat on now," Kate said, carefully checking my fake nails. "Then I gotta help Tiff with makeup."

"Better get started on your hair," Melanie said.

I soon felt girls attacking me from all angles. Kate busied herself with brushing a shiny clear coat over my fake nails, while Melanie went through my hair with a brush. It felt like she was trying to pull my hair out, as she brushed it all up. She called it teasing, but it felt more like bullying. It didn't get any better, as she pulled large strands at a time up and twisted them around a curling iron.

I started to wonder how girls ever managed to abuse themselves like this and still put on a smile when all was said and done. Then I started to recall them taking a lot longer to get ready. Maybe most of that time was spent consoling themselves. Kate finished my nails, and with a pat on my thigh, she left me to be tormented by Melanie. I pushed myself to steal a peak at her legs when she left the room.

Melanie didn't seem too talkative. I hadn't seen her in awhile, so I figured she'd want to catch up. However, she seemed like she was dealing with something of her own. I didn't really know what to say to her, other than mindless conversation. Not that it mattered anyway, as soon she had the hairdryer going. I guess conversation was pretty much out at that point. Instead, I just sat back and tried to endure the torture of looking beautiful.

Minutes passed, seeming like hours. My hair flopped around like a fish in a boat. It was everywhere. Melanie was everywhere. She moved about in a frenzy, curling, brushing, wetting and blow-drying my hair. Maybe I mistook her silence as concentration rather than disinterest. She probably just wanted to do a good job.

"Oh wow," Kate said, yanking my attention toward the doorway of the kitchen. "That looks adorable."

"I gotta say," Melanie said. "Bailey has some amazingly workable hair. It does just about anything you want it to do."

"But that's incredible," Kate said. "I thought Tiff's looked good, but…" She stepped over to get a closer look. "Wow. Just wow."

To be honest the compliment kind of scared me. I didn't exactly want to be the "wow" of the party. In fact, I wanted the least amount of attention at the party. My only hope in this endeavor, was that Kate was being overly nice in her compliments. Maybe my hair just looked good, and wasn't the "wow" factor she built it up to be. Perhaps other people would just see it as a nice hairstyle.

"I think I went overboard," Melanie said, suddenly squashing my hopes. "Think I went all homecoming queen on her hair, when she just needed a cute hairstyle."

"No," Kate said. "I love it!" She set a makeup case next to me on the table. "And who knows when or if she'll ever want to do this again."

Before I could find some excuse to get up and look at my hair, Kate had sat down across from me. Her legs straddled mine once more, and she pulled her chair even closer. Melanie pulled up a chair to sit next to me. Her knee brushed against my thigh as she crossed her legs. She played with my hair, making a few quick fixes. I could feel the weight and recoil of big bouncy curls on my head.

"Girly girl here didn't even know about Shirley Temple," Kate said, as she sorted out makeup.

"You're kidding," Melanie said. "I thought everyone knew about her."

"Kids these days," Kate said, smiling at me.

"In all fairness," I said. "I don't watch a lot of television."

"Still…" Kate looked at me. "Shirley Temple…"

"I think we did her justice," Melanie said, playing with my hair.

"Definitely," Kate said. "Now we need to figure out makeup." She studied my face for a moment. "Older, or stick with her youthful innocence?"

"What did you do for Tiffany?" Melanie asked.

"Total awesomeness!" Tiffany said, bursting into the room.

I looked up to see a slightly older version of Tiffany. Her hair had been pulled up into a high centered ponytail, with half a roll of light blue ribbon wrapped tightly around it four to five inches up. Melanie had wrapped the ribbon around the base of Tiffany's ponytail, and from the other end of the ribbon her hair exploded out in wavy and curly tresses. Her makeup looked perfect, complete with eyeliner done in some Egyptian or Persian style where it came past the outside corners of her eyes and feathered up.

"Her hair looks so freaking cool!" Tiffany exclaimed.

Tiffany made haste over to the table to join us. She reached up to lightly touch one of my curls. When she tried to play with it more, Melanie slapped her hand away. Tiffany walked over behind Kate, and stooped down. She checked my toenails, and content that they were dry, removed the spreaders from between my toes. Then she walked over and sat across from us at the table.

"You look amazing," Tiffany said, and then tried to look busy by putting the nail products away. She honestly could not keep her eyes off of me.

"I think we should keep the innocent look," Melanie finally said.

"That's what I was thinking," Kate said. "Maybe just a hint of mystery."

"Try the gray eye shadow," Melanie said. "I liked that on her before."

Between guesses and second guesses, amidst all the gabbing and fawning, Melanie and Kate eventually landed on a look for me. It all ended in rosy pink cheeks, with a light touch on my nose and chin, slightly darkened eyebrows, and light blue eye shadow, which made my steel blue eyes come to life. At least those were Kate's words. They powdered it all up, and finished me off by coloring my lips a subtle cherry blossom pink. Tiffany added her own touch, with her own cherry lip gloss.

"Perfect," Tiffany said, as she backed away from me.

"You look really pretty," Kate said.

"We did good," Melanie said, standing from her chair. "You two better get into costume."

"I want to see Bailey's first," Tiffany said.

No sooner did she speak the words than I felt her hand around my wrist, and she was pulling me up. We nearly knocked Kate over, as she tried to get off of her chair. Tiffany literally pulled me into the living room. I noticed she had put my costume out, as the blue dress instantly brought back the memory of me trying it on. Though the dress looked a lot different. Before I could detect what all of the differences were, Tiffany handed me my white tights.

"Um…" Kate said, from the doorway. "Normally I would never offer this as a suggestion to my little sister, but you might want to help Bailey put those on." She held her own hands up. "Nails and all."

"Oh," Tiffany said. "Yeah. Let me help you."

Tiffany took the tights from me, and led me over to a chair. She checked my nails once more, and then lightly dusted fuzz from their carpet off of my left foot. As I looked on, Tiffany eased my foot into the tights, and pulled that leg halfway up my lower leg. She repeated the whole process on my other foot, and soon had the tights smoothed up past my knees. Then she had me stand up, opened my robe, and finished pulling the tights up.

"I'll do your shoes too," Tiffany said. "Might be hard for you." She brought my silver ballet flats over, and knelt at my feet. "If you ever do false nails again, you better learn how to cope with them."

We gave each other a knowing smile. Then she helped me put on my shoes one at a time. With Kate and Melanie in the other room, Tiffany took a moment to caress my legs through the tights. It felt so good, that I didn't want her to stop. Her hands slid up under the robe, and eventually she rose to stand in front of me. She kept going up to my shoulders, until finally she got the robe over them, and it slid off of me.

"Ready for your costume?" she asked.

"I'm excited now," I said.

This wasn't a lie either. All of this anticipation had built me up to the moment. Tiffany herself had commissioned the creation of my costume, and with help from Melanie and Kate, had custom-made something just for me. It made me feel special in that moment, but sad that I couldn't return the favor. I watched as Tiffany removed the dress from the back of her couch, and brought it over to me.

"I hope this fits," Tiffany said. "Or you're going as an unusually dressed swimmer."

I chuckled at her remark. She held the dress out for me, and together we managed to slip it on over my head. The material was mostly velvet, but had some Lycra in it for a bit of stretch. Tiffany pulled it down as far as it could go. The hem of the skirt danced around mid-thigh, while the capped sleeves barely covered my shoulders. I finally realized what the costume was, as I looked at all of the features of the dress.

Most people would have known just with the colors alone. They were a dead giveaway for anyone thinking clearly. The navy blue dress had been taken in on both sides, and the stitching gave the appearance of a fake panel in the middle. On both sides of this panel were gold buttons, sewn in with no other function than decoration. The hem of the dress had gold piping around the skirt, and a thin white rope belt sat on my hips; again all for decoration.

Sewn into the top of the dress, stretching from the v-neck to the back, was a white jumper flap with navy blue piping around the border. The v-neck sat over the white and navy blue stripes of the swimsuit, letting it show a bit from underneath. As my hands went over the outfit, I noticed a small little gold anchor fixed to a chain. It hung from the rope belt as kind of a special little afterthought. Finally my mind put it all together. Tiffany had made me a sailor girl.

"Wow," Tiffany said. "You look good. I mean we got the fit perfect and everything."

I think we were both shocked at how well it fit. Even though we checked the size a few weeks ago, I didn't expect to fill it out so well, and I don't think Tiffany expected it either. It wasn't tight, like I had gained a few pounds, but instead it formed rather well to my body. Tiffany had slipped one hand up under the skirt, and was rubbing my thigh when Kate walked in. Her hand quickly flipped to the outside of the skirt, and she pretended to be straightening it.

"Bailey got back!" Kate said.

I looked dumbly at Kate and let fly from my mouth the most intelligent response I could muster. "Huh?"

"Your…" Kate moved her hands down to gesture at her own hips. "Well your…" She started to circle her hands around to her back. "Never mind." She gave me a pleasant smile. "You look absolutely adorable."

"Thanks," I said, blushing at her compliment.

"Oh!" Tiffany said. "The hat!" She ran off to her bedroom.

Kate strolled over to me. "You are the cutest thing," she said, running her index finger gently along my chin. "Why can't more boys be like you?"

"Maybe they're all scared of looking this good," I said.

"Ooh," Kate said. "Sassy!" She grinned at me. "Our little girly girl is growing up."

Tiffany rushed back into the living room. "Found it…"

Tiffany took a moment to catch her breath. Then she held a white sailor hat up to my hair. There wasn't anything special about the hat, but it definitely completed the costume. Without it, I would probably just appear to be wearing a nautical dress with white tights. Melanie walked in about that time, and gave me a nod. She didn't seem to show much emotion about where she leaned on the subject of my outfit.

"Will probably need to clip that on," Melanie said. "It's a little windy out."

"And all the dancing she's going to be doing," Kate said, giving me a wink.

"Probably going to be asked to dance a hundred times," Melanie said. She gave me a concerned look. "Hope you don't freak out if it's boys doing the asking."

"Ugh," I said. "I didn't even think about that."

"Don't worry about it," Tiffany said. "You can always say no."

"Or…" Melanie said. "You could live dangerously!" She turned her solemn look into a wicked little grin.

"Ooh Bailey!" Kate said. "You have got to dance with a boy!"

"What?" I asked. "Why?"

"Just to try it!" Melanie said.

"At least once," Kate said.

"I don't think so," I said.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Tiffany said.

"You don't even know what you'd be missing," Kate said.

"Seriously…" Melanie said.

"Just think," Kate said. "Some boy thinking you're cute enough to ask for a dance."

"That's a huge compliment," Melanie said.

I grew repulsed just thinking about it. "I…"

"And then if they didn't even know your secret…" Kate said.

"Guys!" Tiffany said, bursting into the conversation. "Enough!"

Kate looked surprised. "We're just saying --"

"I know what you're saying," Tiffany said. "I don't want you to make Bailey feel pressured to do it."

"I don't feel pressured," I said.

"Maybe she'd have fun doing it," Melanie said.

"I doubt it," I said.

"Why are you talking like she's not even here voicing her opinion?" Tiffany said, growing a bit more defensive. "She keeps saying no."

Melanie and Kate both looked at Tiffany like she had gone crazy. Melanie, turned and strolled into the other room. Kate, on the other hand, moved away from us and sat on the couch. The room grew deathly silent. On the mantle of their fireplace, a small clock clicked out second after second. It became the only sound in the room for several of those seconds. Tiffany gave me a concerned look.

"I want you to have fun tonight," Tiffany said, finally breaking the silence. "Don't feel pressured to do anything." She sighed. "And please forgive my idiot sister and her friend for even bringing something like that up."

"Hey…" Kate said. "I was just going with the moment."

"Well it was a stupid moment!" Tiffany said, a little louder. "She doesn't like boys." Tiffany looked up at me with a flash of pain in her hazel eyes. "Neither one of us likes boys!"

With that, Tiffany turned, tossed the hat to my costume at her sister, and stormed off down the hallway. I stood there, dumbfounded, and simply watched her disappear into her room. The door slammed several seconds later. I looked over to Kate, who looked like she had misplaced her head for a moment. Neither of us moved, and I didn't know if Tiffany was mad at me, Kate, or both of us.

"I'll go talk to her," Kate said, finally taking some action.

She passed Melanie on the way, and handed the sailor hat to her. Melanie whispered something to Kate, and Kate in turn whispered something back. They both eventually nodded. Kate continued down the hallway to her sister's room, while Melanie came strolling over to me. She gave me a reassuring smile and started to affix the hat to my head. Kate disappeared into Tiffany's room.

"What in the world was that about?" I asked, breaking the mind-numbing silence.

"I'm sure it's something they can work out," Melanie said. "Tiffany's just been under a lot of stress lately."

"Stress?" I asked. "From what?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Melanie said. "I just know things aren't entirely favorable for her right now."

I didn't even know how to take what Melanie had just said. Aside from the whole group session thing Tiffany had to deal with, I really didn't know what else could be getting to her. She said she was dealing with that among "other things," but I didn't know the other things in question. Melanie's words were almost cryptic in nature, like she knew, but didn't want to say. She continued to busy herself by pinning my hat to my hair. Her silence was deafening.

"Do you know anything about it?" I asked.

"All I know is that her life has not been exactly picture perfect lately," Melanie said. "The best advice I can give you at the moment, is just be there for her."

"Be there for her?"

"You know…" Melanie put another bobby pin through my hair. "Listen to her. Talk to her. Even if what she has to say might not sound good to you, I think she needs someone to talk to about her life." She stopped to put her hands on my shoulders. "She's growing up fast, and needs someone mature enough to handle her."

"What if I'm not able?" I asked.

"Then be ready to step aside," Melanie said. "Not just for her, but for the both of you." She paused to look in my eyes. "Be willing to let someone else fill that role if you can't fill it."

"Melanie," Kate shouted from the other room. "Could you bring me the bag I left by the couch?"

"Duty calls," Melanie said. Her right hand moved up to my cheek. "Hang in there though. You two have something special."

Melanie grabbed a plastic bag by the couch, and headed down the hallway. When she disappeared into Tiffany's room, I felt kind of out of the picture. Everyone was off working on some big secret costume thing, while I was in here alone. Surely it wouldn't be long until they got Tiffany situated and came back into the room. I wandered over to a decorative mirror they had hanging near the fireplace.

It took me a few seconds to recognize my own face in the mirror. Large bouncy curls erupted from underneath the slightly tilted white cap on my head. I reached up to gently pull on one. The long pink nails caught me off guard for the briefest moment, but my attention shot back to the curl springing back up to where I pulled it from. My face looked extremely youthful and innocent, perhaps even a bit younger. It all looked amazing.

I had to wander over to a chair to sit. For some reason I couldn't contain myself. Was it possible I could look this good everyday if I put a little effort into it? There were absolutely no traces of boyishness on me anywhere. I calmly fixed my skirt, crossed my legs, and tried to sooth myself back to normal. The next few minutes of my life were spent running my hands along the velvet material of my dress, and trying to breathe easy.

I must have wondered myself into a daze, as I almost didn't notice the three girls coming back into the living room. Melanie and Kate walked in first, obscuring my view of Tiffany's costume. They turned and held their hands out for Tiffany, in a sort of unveiling. I think my brain and mouth went numb when I saw her. The rest of me stood and stared. I should've known from the hairstyle and makeup what her costume would be.

Tiffany had on baggy royal blue velvet pants, gathered at the bottom into three-inch-wide gold cuffs. She had on a gold belt, which went from three inches wide to a four-inch-wide point at the middle. They had decorated it with gold tassels along the front, and loops of gold chain with coins resting against her hips. The belt stopped right under her bellybutton, and left the rest of her navel exposed.

Her top, also royal blue velvet, just covered her bust and ended with a couple of inches of royal blue tulle at the hem. The full sleeves of Tiffany's costume were also tulle. They stretched from cuffs, identical to the ones around her ankles, to a gold vest just big enough to cover her shoulder blades and rest on her shoulders. She had on several rings, and even a few toe rings. Together with her metallic blue toenails, the toe rings stood out against her strappy gold sandals.

Tiffany walked toward me. Her lips curled up into a smile beneath a tulle veil. The veil covered the bottom half of her face down past her chin. Kate busied herself getting her digital camera ready, while Melanie looked on with a smile. Now only a foot away, Tiffany reached up with the back of her right hand. Her metallic blue fingernails slid gently down my cheek. I finally mustered the courage to say what was on my mind.

"You look amazing."

"You've released me from my prison sailor girl," Tiffany said. "Your every wish is my command."

Melanie smiled at me from behind Tiffany, most likely the culprit who fed Tiffany the line she had just delivered. She gave me a wink, and then wandered off to Kate's bedroom. Kate took a few pictures of us. Then she took a few more with us posing. She wanted to keep taking more, but Melanie reentered the room and reminded her of the time. Kate still had to drop us off and come back to change. Melanie added a final touch to both of us, dabbing us with some of Kate's perfume. I immediately had doubts about this, but we were soon whisked out the door.

The drive over to Rachel Ford's house was as predictable as it could be, what with two wound up balls of anxiety and a calm, sophisticated high school senior packed into a Honda Accord. I'm sure Kate thought we were nuts from the way we gabbed to excess over nonsense. She had to act cool though. It was something all high school kids had in them when forced to drag their siblings around. For once in her life, Kate actually let both of us ride in the back seat. She despised this kind of "chauffeuring" as she called it.

Rachel greeted us, naturally. Showing off her princess costume, she twirled in entryway, and then paused long enough to feign interest over our own costumes. Her princess costume was nothing more than a pink ball gown, adorned with jewelry, and topped with a rather suspiciously real looking tiara. She simply held up her hand to go in, and then disappeared to places unknown. I probably wouldn't see her for the rest of the night.

We had all told our parents that Rachel's parents would be present at the party. As much as they knew, this was true. However, it was never mentioned that her parents were also entertaining guests downstairs, and they would make very little, if any, attempt to spy on our party. Her father usually blasted away liquor at these parties, and wouldn't be sober until morning, while her mother would now and for always be known as the aloof buffoon of all of our mothers.

These factors alone saw the slow, yet steady, decay of Rachel's morals. None of us would have been surprised if she had made it to second base by now with her current boyfriend. I personally wouldn't be surprised if she was rounding third and heading home. We never meant any of this to be cruel, but rather it was just the way Rachel turned out. Part of me felt sorry for her, but only part, as I had always wondered what it would be like to do some of the things Rachel had done in her short life.

"That dress turned out fantastic!"

I turned to find the face that matched the all too familiar voice coming at me. What greeted me happened to be a rather bubbly looking ladybug. Beneath two springy antennae, Tracy peered at me with a huge smile and eyes the size of the polka dots on her red and black dress. A set of transparent wings bobbled behind her, as she lifted her hands in an impending hug. I braced myself for it.

"You look amazing Bailey," Tracy said, and then switched to hug Tiffany. "You too genie."

Tracy stood slightly shorter than Tiffany and I, yet she still stuck to her flat shoes. She hated wearing heels, but somehow managed to find cute designs on whatever she wore. Her ballet flats, red with black polka dots, matched her dress and gloves. The black leggings under her tutu skirt, slimmed her legs quite a bit. Tracy, along with her sister Rebecca, had nicely developed swimmers' legs, but neither sought to do anything with them. I always thought they'd make good anchor swimmers, as they both practically lived in their pool.

"No," Tracy said to Tiffany. "He's around here somewhere."

I watched Tracy look around the room. She seemed a bit confused; to be expected at a costume party. Finally she spotted the thing, or rather the person, she was looking for, and pointed him out. I followed her gaze and found Jason on the other side of the crowd. He waved to us. Following the lead of the other two girls, I waved back. Then I realized I may have waved a bit too demurely, stuck in my feminine mode, and worried that Jason may have caught it.

Jason knew about me, yet I still didn't want to be acting the part around him. Part of me felt like he would start being my protector, or some other weird relation. I studied him for a moment, as he went back to his friends. His costume was extremely basic; sword, eye patch, tattered clothing and bandana around his head. The black sneakers went with his costume as much as a bad joke went with a funeral, and the one special thing he tossed in was costume makeup to make himself appear dirty.

As I laughed inwardly about Jason's costume, I found Vince in the crowd. Vince had put even less thought in his costume than Jason. He had on black pants, with a white shirt and black vest. His cape and fangs were supposed to be his ultimate selling points on an otherwise cheesy vampire costume. To be honest, I thought he would've tried harder. He was a rather gifted artist in our class. Maybe he just didn't like Halloween, but was fake blood too much to ask for?

"Well…" Tracy said. "They didn't wanna bring their drama to the party."

"Who?" I asked, thinking I'd missed vital information again.

"Vanessa and Danielle," Tiffany said.

"Neither one came?" I asked.

Tracy shook her head. "They both basically said they didn't want to come and spoil the evening for the other." She shrugged. "So they both missed out."

"That's a shame," I said. "At least they're sounding more civil. I was hoping to see them though."

"You just wanted the attention from Vanessa," Tiffany said, smiling.

"Right…" I said.

"Oh!" Tiffany said, as if remembering something. "There's Vince." She turned to give me a measured look. "Mind if I go say hi?"

I shook my head. Tiffany squeezed my hand, and then smiled. As I watched her dart through the crowd, another familiar face came my way. She almost floated toward me, carried by silvery wings, and sparkling in the dim lights throughout the room. White flowers littered her pale blue dress, which puffed out at the skirt like a cloud. Her olive skin shimmered with glitter, from her naked arms down her hosed legs, until everything pooled into pale blue ballet flats, which seemed to glide across the carpet.

"Megan…" I managed to stammer. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," Megan said. "You look adorable."

Megan pushed herself forward on her toes, and gently kissed me on the cheek. I barely recovered fast enough to brush her cheek with a kiss of my own. She seemed to exhibit a natural playfulness and joy in her eyes. Her messed up hair really gave the impression of a true pixie. Once our greeting ceased, Megan took my hands in hers. She looked over my nails a few times, and then gave me a smile.

"You really went all out," Megan said.

"It's mostly Tiffany's doing," I admitted.

"Well, whoever's idea it was, it all looks incredible," Megan said. "I love the curls…" She reached up to play with one. "And the nails…"

Megan couldn't stop playing. It seemed like she had to touch every single aspect of my costume. Maybe she didn't believe it was real. She continued to play with my cap, skirt hem, belt rope and the small anchor attached to it. At one point she even pointed out the gold buttons on my dress had little anchors on them. This was a tiny detail I somehow missed in all of the excitement.

"Where's Tawny?" I finally asked.

Megan looked confused at the question for a moment. "Um…" She snapped out of her daze long enough to glance around. "She was around here somewhere." Her eyes came back to me. "You probably wouldn't recognize her unless I pointed her out." A smile spread across her face. "She's coming up behind you."

With a little help from Megan, and another chance for her to run her hands over my velvety dress, I turned to face something incredibly remarkable. That night I saw an entirely different Tawny. She didn't have her usual haughty air about her. Instead, she walked cautiously up to Megan and I, with her eyes slightly turned down. She looked as if she were walking down a dark alley, alone, scared someone would jump out at any moment to grab her.

"She's kind of having a self-confidence crisis with it," Megan whispered in my ear. "So go easy on her."

I think I soaked in every inch of Tawny that night. While I still remembered most of the costumes of others, I never forgot Tawny's costume. Maybe it was because she looked so entirely opposed to her normal self. Perhaps the costume was just that appealing to me. Whatever it happened to be, I think my slight crush on Tawny hit full swing at that moment. She simply looked amazing to me.

Normally I would be opposed to matching costumes on friends. It lacked creativity in my mind. I understood themes, or events where everyone wore the same costume. They were all well and good, but Megan and Tawny managed to get away with a fashion faux pas that night. Somehow they both came as pixies, but managed to make them so different from each other that they worked well together.

Tawny struggled a bit, teetering on the three inch heels of light pink, patent ankle boots. Like Tracy, Tawny hardly wore heels, let alone narrow ones. I knew it was a struggle for her, and it reminded me of my first time wearing heels. For once I saw the skin of Tawny's legs, wrapped in purple fishnets, and rising up to a skirt. Tawny actually wore a skirt! I had to alert the media the first chance I got. This never happened.

Not only did she wear a skirt, but the skirt was part of a pale pink dress. The skirt itself looked like a flower petal. Rows of lacy purple tulle exploded from under the skirt, while even more purple tulle wrapped around the outside. They made swirls and decorative flower and ribbon patterns all over the dress. Her lower arms were encased in purple and pink arm wraps, which had the same petal pattern as the hem of the skirt.

From Tawny's elbows to her shoulders, there was nothing but smooth bare skin. I imagine she felt incredibly vulnerable from this, as she never liked to wear anything off of her shoulders. Around her shoulders she wore a harness of sparkly purple wings. Body glitter, makeup, and perfectly manicured dark purple fingernails all came compliments of Megan. She looked like an angel regardless of what her costume said.

The best part of all happened to be Tawny's hair. Her usual mundane, straight, black bob cut, had been teased and messed with until it stood out like Megan's pixie cut. Several strands were colored purple and pink, enough to offset the uniformed black. Random ribbons and bows, of the same colors, streamed from her hair. I could see some of them danced and tickled her shoulders as she walked closer to me.

"Hey," Tawny said. Her demure attitude surprised me.

"You look pretty," I said, not wanting to suffocate her by overdoing the compliments.

"I look like I got stabbed with a unicorn horn," Tawny said.

"I'm not exactly sure what the result of that may be," I said, giggling a bit, "but I don't think it would look this good."

Tawny looked up at me and smiled. She took a moment to look over my costume. Just as Megan had done, Tawny seemed interested with touching it. I guess velvet held that sort of attraction. Her hand immediately went for my hair. Something about pulling a curl down, and watching it bounce back up, had major appeal for my friends that evening. Tawny watched it for a moment, and then smiled. Then she noticed I was watching her, and shyly pulled back half a step.

"You look really good," Tawny said. "I mean…" She glanced over my outfit again. "If I had a sailor like you coming home, I'd definitely wait."

Megan cleared her throat. "If you two would like to make out like her ship just came in, I can come back."

"She likes to be missed too," Tawny said, winking at me.

Before I could remark, Megan grabbed Tawny by the hand. They disappeared into the crowd behind me. A fast song started up, and half of the room started dancing. I honestly didn't feel like dancing at that point. Something about going onto the floor alone seemed a bit too intimidating. So instead I hung out at the edge of the expansive living room, trying to find anyone past the crowd that I might know.

"Hey!" Tiffany said, coming up beside me.

"Did you find Vince?" I asked.

"Yeah," Tiffany said. "Would you like to talk to him?"

"Maybe later," I said. I pretended I had some other wilder place to go to somewhere in the crowd. "I saw Megan and Tawny."

"How'd they look?" Tiffany said.

"They both looked cute," I said.

"Cute and Tawny don't quite mix well," Tiffany said. "They're like oil and water." She gave me a cross look. "I think you're understating it."

"You'll have to see for yourself," I said, smiling. "Words cannot explain."

"Wanna dance?" Tiffany asked.

"Sure!"

Tiffany took my hand and we wandered into the crowd. We somehow found Tawny and Megan dancing together. Tiffany had to express her approval of both of their costumes, only she did so nonverbally. The music was a bit too loud for anything else. Megan pulled on one of Tiffany's sleeves, expressing her own delight in Tiffany's costume. Tawny shyly approved of it too. It was funny and refreshing seeing Tawny act the way she acted tonight.

"Tawny looks hot," Tiffany said in my ear as she came back to me. "I mean they both look good, but…" She became speechless.

"I know," I said back to Tiffany. "I can hardly believe it myself. They both look incredible."

Most people already knew about Megan and Tawny. So seeing them dancing close to each other wasn't exactly something new. However, the other kids found it hard to keep their eyes off of Tiffany and me. I would've chalked it all up to Tiffany looking amazing in her costume, if it were up to me. Yet, as we continued to dance, and more people continued to look on, I realized I was drawing half of the attention.

That's when I noticed boys starting to move in closer. They weren't doing anything constrictively rude, or interrupting our good time. Instead, they were moving in for closer looks. Some boys were watching my legs, and I caught a few checking out my bottom. Still others were intently following where Tiffany's navel would go next. By the time the next song rolled around, boys were circling us like vultures.

We continued to dance. The boys and girls sifted in and out of the crowd. Now several new boys were seeing how close they could get to view us. I looked around, and realized it wasn't just us they were stealing peaks at. They were doing it to all of the girls. I guess girls pairing up to dance just happened to garnish a little more attention. Then again, I wasn't a girl, but they didn't have to know that to stare.

A slow song hit the room like breaks on a semi truck. Most of the crowd bowed out, not having anyone to dance with. I quickly took Tiffany in my arms. She seemed pleasantly surprised at the move, and pulled herself closer to me. Some of the boys stuck around. They glanced around at the girls, probably waiting for an opportunity to strike. I was so involved with watching them, that one caught me off guard from behind.

"May I cut in?"

At first I wondered who they meant. Then I realized they had tapped me on the shoulder. This of course meant they wanted to dance with Tiffany. According to the rules of etiquette on the dance floor, I had every right to say no. Tiffany had that right as well, but she took the girl's way out. She looked at me. Reluctantly, I let my dancing partner go to a tall blonde who had somehow managed to turn his baggy clothes into a hip hop artist costume.

He looked like a clown, but a clown who made me look like one now standing alone amidst the crowd. I really had no idea what to do. As he twirled away with Tiffany, I went into some strange helpless girl mode. Random kids just looked at me, while some of the boys went in for the kill. I was like a helpless bunny trapped amongst the carnivores. They all looked hungry.

"Care to dance?"

I turned around, ready to spray venom. Instead I found myself recoiling. There in front of me was the worst looking vampire I had ever seen. Vince had even taken his false fangs out, but they made his smile look ten times better. He smiled down at me with royal blue eyes, and for some reason I felt safe. I almost turned him down for the dance, but when I saw the other boys awaiting my response, I quickly nodded.

Vince took my right hand in his left, and put his other hand at my waist. It felt strange at first, having to fight him for a moment over who would lead. He stuck it out until I quit trying to fight it. I finally fell into sync with him right as the song neared the end. The DJ seemed quick to keep the feeling going, and put on another slow song. Vince held onto me, smiling as we danced into the next song.

I failed to even look around for Tiffany. This new experience had managed to take away the majority of my self-awareness. If anyone asked me now what the song was that we danced to, I would never be able to tell you. That's not to say it wasn't special. Like all new experiences, it felt special to me. Perhaps I would've chosen another boy to share my first dance with, but that wouldn't have changed much about it.

"You look pretty tonight," Vince said.

"Thanks," I said, noticeably blushing.

He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I thought it should be said."

"It was nice of you," I said, as he pulled his head back. "You look nice as well."

"Thanks." Vince studied me for a moment. He couldn't resist pulling my hand up with his, and giving one of my curls a gentle tug. "I like the curls."

"They seem to be pretty popular," I said, displaying a subtle smile.

"I hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot," Vince said.

"We kind of did," I said, nodding to our feet on the floor.

Vince chuckled. He almost sounded like Nathan when he laughed. That might have been a huge part of why I didn't run away screaming. Like Nathan, Vince had this gentleness about him. I could see why Tiffany liked him, and why she could talk easily with him. He didn't seem like a bad guy at all. In fact, he seemed charming and nice.

"Well…" Vince said. "Dancing jokes aside. I didn't want you to think of me as a bad guy." He gave me a half smile. "Tiffany said you were concerned."

"I don't think that anymore," I said.

"What do you think?" Vince asked.

"I think you're nice," I said, giving him a thoughtful smile.

"Well good," Vince said.

With that, Vince caught me off guard with my first ever twirl. If he hadn't been around to catch me, I would've fallen flat on my face. All of these new experiences brought new feelings. When Vince had twirled me around, I felt delicate almost breakable. The gentleness and spontaneity of the move had me feeling carefree and a bit invigorated. My hand in his felt safe. His watchful gaze felt like a shelter.

Melanie and Kate were right. Even though I didn't expect to follow their suggestion tonight, it had just occurred randomly. It arose from an odd circumstance, but I'm glad it did. There really was no other feeling quite like dancing with a boy. I couldn't figure out earlier why they were pushing the issue, but now I knew. Tiffany had gotten worked up over…

"Tiffany…" I said.

"What about her?" Vince asked.

"I lost her," I said, looking around the crowd.

"She's over there," Vince said, nodding his head in her direction. "She's fine. I've been watching her." He looked down at me. "It seemed like you needed rescuing more than she did." He glanced back at her. "Though she doesn't look too happy about it."

"I should really go check on her," I said.

"I'll make you a deal," Vince said. "If the next song's a fast one, you can go." He smiled. "If not, I get another dance."

I glanced back and forth from Vince to Tiffany. Finally I looked up at Vince. "Okay," I said. "But only one."

"Aw," Vince said. "I was hoping for a few later too."

"You're pushing it," I said.

I shook my head at Vince, but I couldn't help smiling. He was definitely growing on me. Maybe I would dance with him later. I didn't want to give him the wrong impression, yet something felt extremely comfortable about him. It would remain comfortable for the moment, as another slow song came up. Vince smiled down at me, a small victory in his corner.

As we danced through that song, I forgot about all of the prying eyes around us. Nobody looked familiar anyway, as my friends had all but vanished in the crowd, and the costumes hid people I otherwise would have recognized. So I simply lent Bailey to Vince for the next few minutes. I managed to shyly steal glances at him when I thought he wasn't looking. It all felt natural, so natural that I almost wanted another slow song to come on so we could continue.

Alas, the song ended. A steady stream of beat mixes flowed in, trying to pump blood back into the dwindling dance crowd. Vince seemed sweeter than ever when we parted. He gently brought my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. When he did that at the fall festival it seemed creepy. Now it just seemed charming.

"I'll see you later then?" Vince asked.

"Perhaps," I said.

Vince let me slip back into the crowd. It didn't take me long at all to find Tiffany. I approached her while she was in the process of pushing another boy away from her. She rolled her eyes at some comment he made, and walked closer to me. When she saw me, her eyes lit up, and she smiled. I drew closer to her, and the boy seemed to back off. Tiffany came over and kissed my cheek.

"You would not believe what that boy just said," Tiffany said.

I looked at the back of the boy's head, then motioned for Tiffany to tell me.

"He said he would like to rub against my lamps all night," Tiffany said, showing her disgust throughout the statement. "Can you believe that?"

"You want me to talk to him?" I asked, now staring the boy down.

"No," Tiffany said, giggling as she looked at me.

"What?"

"I think he'd probably ask if he could put his ship in your harbor," Tiffany said, still giggling after her comment.

"At least I could tell him where to stick his anchor," I grumbled.

"Oh, come on," Tiffany said, walking me off to the side. "You're more girly than me at this point." She rubbed her hand around my side and down my bottom. "Besides, I want you to keep this costume in one piece for awhile." Her lips turned up into a mischievous smile. "We might wear them again later."

"There you are," Tracy said, coming over to Tiffany. "I've been looking for you."

"Did you get it?" Tiffany asked.

"I did," Tracy said, "but it comes at a price." She held a key up for Tiffany to take. "Rules too."

"What rules?" Tiffany asked, looking confused.

"Don't get too loud," Tracy said. "Don't turn on any lights that can be seen from the house."

"Is that it?" Tiffany asked.

"Oh," Tracy said. "If you get caught, say it was unlocked and hide the key under the mattress."

"What are you planning?" I asked Tiffany.

"A surprise," Tiffany said. "I'll fill you in when we get there."

"We?" I asked. "Wait. You and me?!"

"Careful around the pool," Tracy said. "I'll hit the lights for you." She turned to look at me. "Have fun."

Nothing clicked in my head at all. It felt like Tiffany and I were going on a secret espionage mission, yet only one of us had any information. All I could gather was that we were sneaking into something locked, and avoiding detection at all costs. Tiffany hadn't even questioned Tracy when told this would come at a price. What price? She didn't seem to care either.

Tiffany took my hand, pulling me into the crowd. We kept to the outside, and slinked close to the walls. She expertly navigated us into the kitchen, where several kids were drinking and eating a smorgasbord of party favorites. Suddenly she stopped. We were so close to each other that I nearly walked up her back. She nodded to Tracy, who stood next to the back door, and then pulled me toward the door leading out to the garage.

"Will you help me grab some more drinks?" Tiffany asked.

I looked at her strangely. Somehow I found the ability to nod in her direction. With my acknowledgement, Tiffany pulled me out into the garage. She shut the door behind us. Then after a quick check if the garage was empty, she pulled me over to the side door. After flashing me a smile, she pushed the door open, checked around the corner, and then pulled me outside.

We stepped out into the chilly autumn night. I'm sure Tiffany felt it worse than I did, but my costume wasn't exactly built for warmth either. I wondered why in the world she would bring me outside. Did Rachel's parents have some secret alcohol stash? Surely Tiffany didn't want to drink. I knew her better than that, at least I thought I did. She wouldn't touch the stuff even at her own house.

Tiffany waited by the corner of the house. She seemed fixated on the back lights. Suddenly all of the lights went off. Tiffany rushed across the yard, pulling me closely behind her. It wasn't until we reached the pool house that I knew of our destination. She put the key in the lock, and quickly pulled us inside. The door shut behind us almost as fast as we opened it. Almost immediately the lights outside came back on.

"Private party," Tiffany said, near a whisper.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, whispering with her. "We could get in trouble."

"You know all of those times I said I'd make it up to you?" Tiffany asked, still whispering as she led me carefully through a makeshift living room. "Well tonight I'm going to make them all up to you."

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"I want to though," Tiffany said.

"I don't know…"

Tiffany stopped and turned into me. "If you're not comfortable with this we can go back."

"I'm comfortable," I said. "I think…" I could smell her perfume and hair so close to me. "What if we get caught?"

"Nobody even knows we're out here," Tiffany said. "Besides… it only goes as far as we want it to." Her hands were now running up and down the front of my velvety dress. "Okay?"

"I just don't want things to get out of hand," I said.

"They won't," Tiffany said. "I promise." Her hand slid back into mine. "But we have to go to the back room."

We couldn't even make it that far. By the time we reached the hall back to the bedroom, we were kissing and pawing at each other. If we didn't have rules to go by, we would've collapsed on the floor right there. Somehow we managed to get into the bedroom, where a few pastel colored nightlights lit up the room. Soft music was playing on the bedside radio. Tiffany took her veil, which she removed earlier in the hallway, and tossed it onto the bed.

"What the hell?!" exclaimed a rather familiar voice from over on the bed.

"Tawny?" Tiffany asked.

Another voice entered the room; one with a distinctive Korean accent. "Tiffany?"

"Megan?" I asked.

"You hit me with your veil," Tawny said. "How did you get in here?"

For a moment I saw Tawny sit forward on the bed. The moonlight seeping through the window, along with the nightlights, cast a shadowed light upon the pale bare chest of Tawny Simmons. I didn't mean to see them, but they had just popped into view. Suddenly I felt very shy at the moment. Tawny pulled her costume up over her shoulders, while Megan turned her back to us.

"I didn't know anyone else was in here," Tiffany said. "Tracy got the key… and I thought…" Tiffany let out an exasperated sigh in the darkness. "I'm so sorry you two."

"No, it's my fault," Tawny said. "We always sneak off back here."

"Not always," Megan said, trying to appear modest.

"Well…" Tawny said. "I didn't think anyone else knew about it." She stood and walked over closer to us. "What brings you two here anyway?"

"Um…" Tiffany fidgeted next to me.

"I mean, I know why you're here," Tawny said. "Obviously." She reached out and pulled Tiffany over to the bed. "Special occasion?"

I followed them both over to the bed. Megan seemed to cower a bit in the shadows. By the time I got to the foot of the bed, Tiffany and Tawny had already made themselves at home. Tawny had crawled back up on the bed, and was kneeling next to Tiffany, who casually pulled her sandals off to sit on the bed. I slipped my shoes off to join them, and noticed Megan reaching out for my hand.

"I don't know how special it is now," Tiffany joked. "We were just coming in here to have some time alone."

"It's as special as you make it," Megan said.

I felt myself sliding onto the bed knees first. Eventually I found myself kneeling between Megan and Tiffany, and facing Tawny. I still couldn't shake the image of her breasts from my head. They were at least a healthy b-cup, but I'd never seen Tawny wear anything tight enough to show them off. In fact, they were almost as nice as Tiffany's breasts. I suddenly wanted a pair of my own, when I realized I was the only one without them. Even Megan had a budding a-cup going for her.

"We could leave if you like," I said. "You were here first."

"No," Tawny said. "I don't wanna ruin your 'special' night."

"Why would you say it like that?" Megan asked, poking Tawny in the ribs with her elbow.

"Maybe we could just hang out and talk," Tiffany said, all but giving up on the occasion.

She straightened herself, and moved onto her knees across from Tawny. Her right hand slid into my left hand, and I noticed Megan still held my other hand. I watched Megan, as she slid her hand along Tawny's thigh. She leaned over and whispered something into Tawny's ear. Tawny giggled, another characteristic uncommon to her, and whispered something back to Megan.

"Are you sure?" Tawny asked.

"Yes," Megan said.

"What are you two whispering about?" Tiffany asked.

"Megan was wondering…" Tawny said. "Or rather she's been wondering about it for a long time now." Tawny looked over at Megan. "I don't know how to ask it."

"I've never talked much about this," Megan said. "For a long time I've been wondering what it would be like." She lowered her head. "You see… My parents are very strict, and what is done with Tawny is mostly done like this. In the dark, and away from home." Her hand tightened around Tawny's, and her head tilted slightly toward her. "I thought since we were here, away from the others." She sighed, and looked up at Tiffany. "Since we had the opportunity. That maybe I could have this one chance to try it." Her head turned to face me. "To kiss another transgender girl."

It sounded cuter still when Megan said it with her slight accent. I had watched her go from shy wallflower to miss popularity. Now she knelt next to me as if none of that popularity got to her. Inside she was still the same shy girl I talked to before school. It took me a few seconds to realize what she was asking, and that I was the intended target of her kiss. At the moment, I wish she had just done it, gotten it over with. Instead she asked, and now it felt a bit awkward.

"I…" They all just kind of stared at me.

"I know it's a lot to ask," Megan said. "I can understand if you say no."

"I don't know," Tiffany said, still looking at me. "I guess it's up to Bailey."

"Up to me?" I asked, not wanting the burden of it. "Are you sure about that?"

"Well…" Tiffany said. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I told you it would come out sounding strange," Tawny said, looking at Megan. "How about we make it fair?"

"Fair?" Tiffany asked. "Is that even possible?"

"What if we all got one kiss from each other?" Tawny asked.

"It's starting to sound like that movie now," I said, obviously trying to cut the tension in the room.

"I know… Indecent Proposal. It sounds lame," Tawny said. "But then we can say it's all even."

"Or we could just stay even and not do it," I said.

"Hmmm…" Tiffany said. "It won't leave this room?"

"Never," Megan said.

"We won't say a word," Tawny said. "I'm kind of curious too."

"Curious about what?" I asked.

"Kissing another girl," Tawny said. "I mean Megan's top notch, but…"

"I am technically a boy," Megan said. "She's been wanting about kissing an actual girl."

"And we trust you two," Tawny said.

"Completely trust you," Megan said.

"Well we trust you both too," I said. "Still…" I looked at Tiffany.

While Tiffany mulled it over, I had some of my own thinking to do. I had never kissed another girl, unless you count those childish pecks on the cheek in first grade. Usually I would wind up running away afterwards. So kissing Tawny would be kind of scary, but nothing I would run from. Then the unsettling worries trickled in on me. Technically, as she said herself, Megan was a boy. I knew we regarded her as a run-of-the-mill girl in life, but we all knew the truth.

For the past two months I had thought about kissing a boy, but I had never gotten the nerve up to do it. A dream involving Nathan was the closest I came to the act. This almost felt like a dream in itself. Then there was Tawny's somewhat enlightened scheme where we all won in the end. Something told me she had an ulterior motive. The quiet talk in the room became a muted whisper. Somehow I had missed a vital piece of the conversation, while delving in my thoughts.

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Just one? No seconds?"

"If anyone goes for a second, we all get a second," Tawny said.

"Wait… what?" I asked.

"This might be fun," Tiffany said, squeezing my hand. "Kind of a learning experience. Like the stuff you'd do in camp or at a sleepover."

Had I totally missed the boat? Before I knew it, Tawny and Megan were "breaking the ice" and kissing each other. I got lost watching them kiss. It looked amazing, and I wondered if Tiffany and I looked the same when we kissed. As the urge to protest came back to me, I felt a hand under my chin. My head turned quickly, but gently, and my protest was muffled by Tiffany's lips joining mine. The sticky reluctant cling of our lip gloss gave way as the kiss departed.

"That wasn't exactly your best," Tiffany said. "Hope you do better at least for Megan's sake."

"She's just nervous," Tawny said, reaching out to pat my leg. "Maybe we should go boy girl next to get her lips working again."

Tawny's words didn't even register in my head. I simply watched her lips move. Perhaps this wouldn't be too bad. I would get to kiss Tawny as a lovely bonus. Her lips moved into a smug smile. I assumed it had something to do with the last thing she said, but again, I couldn't even recall her words. I felt myself bracing for the inevitable. My body straightened as I came forward a bit on the bed.

Just as I thought Tawny was about to go for the kiss, Tiffany's face blocked half of my view. Megan's face soon moved into the other half. The girls closed in the remaining gap. Their lips melted together like soft candy. Both of them enjoyed the moment, Megan lingering a second longer; to savor the taste of Tiffany's cherry lip gloss no doubt. What lasted for mere seconds, burned a lasting image in my mind. All too soon it was over.

"That was pretty sexy," Tawny said. "Ready sailor?"

"Just relax," Tiffany whispered in my ear.

I felt her hand running over my back. It felt soothing, methodic, and eased me up to the point where I could meet Tawny halfway. She looked so beautiful tonight. In fact, I happened to be surrounded by the three most beautiful girls at the party. Oddly enough, they considered me as one of the cutest girls there. This had to be a setup. Any minute one of them would call it off and they'd all break into a giggle fest. But why would Tiffany go as far as she did?

Tawny's hands slithered up my nylon-clad thighs. I suddenly realized that all three of them were putting their hands on me. They were trying to make me feel more comfortable. Megan's fingers were on the verge of tickling, as the gently caressed my bare arm. Tiffany continued to move her hand up and down my back. As this went on, I felt a pair of hands sliding around my hips, and then back down to my knees.

Tawny's green eyes penetrated the darkness. They seemed to have a life of their own as they floated toward mine. Even if I wanted to turn back now, I couldn't do it. I had to know what Tawny's kiss felt like at least. Her lips were so close I could feel their soft pink glow. So close now, but I knew they would take me miles from where I was kneeling on this bed. My eyes shut. I pushed myself forward. There was no turning back.

Her lips crashed against mine like a roaring wave. There were sparks, and passion. It lacked nothing, and I gave it everything. It felt warm like the grass in spring. Her lips felt as firm and tender as a ripened grape. Interestingly enough, they tasted like grapes. They actually tasted like grape lip gloss… and a bit of cherry. My eyes jerked open.

Tawny's eyes did not greet me. Instead I found a pair of chocolate brown eyes, shaped like two perfect almonds, surrounded by glitter. Megan's eyes closed, and continued the kiss. After the initial shock had settled, I found my own eyes closing. I relaxed into the kiss. It appeared that it didn't matter to me where the kiss had come from. I simply knew that it felt good. It tasted good. I had started kissing Megan, and I didn't want the kiss to end.

"I'm sorry," Megan said, breaking the kiss. "I wanted it to be real and pure."

"No," I said. "It's fine."

"I thought if you anticipated it too much, it would lose something," Megan said.

"It was good," I said. "I liked it."

"You liked it?" Tawny asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes," I admitted. "It was tender and sweet."

"Would you like to kiss again?" Tiffany asked, obviously intrigued by what had just occurred.

I knew the answer to Tiffany's question had a heavy weight attached to it. If I admitted I wanted to kiss Megan again, Tiffany might be upset. It could change the whole dynamic of our relationship. On the other hand, if I didn't handle it gently enough, Megan might be hurt by me turning her down. I stared in silence at Megan. In all of my life I had never been more thankful for having Tawny around, than I was at that very moment, on that very night.

"Rules are in place," Tawny said.

"Of course," Tiffany said.

Megan simply nodded, and retreated back to her corner of the bed. For the next minute of my life I had to suffer through a jealous flare up my spine, and a hundred questions going through my mind. Tawny and Tiffany shared an amazing kiss. I could hardly describe it, but seeing two girls come close and exploring such a tender and intimate moment; it took my breath away. My breath was soon taken away again, as Tawny came after her kiss from me.

Out of the three there that night, the gentlest and most passionate kiss surprisingly came from Tawny. I couldn't escape the taste of Tiffany's cherry lip gloss, as everyone was wearing it now. So while the taste wasn't unique, Tawny's technique was far different. She had a way in which she moved her bottom lip up and down, that made it feel like the kiss kept coming. It was almost as if she wanted to push the kiss into you somehow.

"No offense," Tawny said, pulling back from me, "but you kiss like a girl."

"I…"

"Relax," Megan said. "She said the same thing to me."

"Humor," Tawny said, smiling at me. "To lighten the air."

"We better get back to the party," Tiffany said.

"Aw," Megan said. "You just got here."

"I think it would be a good idea if we all went back now," I said, looking away from the three of them.

"Can I borrow your shoes Bailey?" Tawny asked.

"No," Megan said. "You put your heels back on. One night won't kill you."

"Will kill my feet," Tawny said.

"You'll live," Megan said. "And we're dancing more too."

"Fine," Tawny said, obviously disgruntled.

"Speaking of shoes, where are mine?" Tiffany asked. "I can't see a thing in here."

"Just feel around for them," Tawny said, as she slid off of the bed to help.

I watched the two of them go down to the floor in a frantic search for shoes. Right before I got off of the bed myself, Megan handed me Tiffany's veil. Our hands touched briefly, and I could see Megan smiling in the faint light of the room. She pushed herself forward and put her lips against mine once more. As the other two girls kept busy looking for shoes, Megan and I shared another pleasant kiss.

It felt a bit strained and stiff at first, as I had been caught off guard, and it was a spur of the moment thing. Eventually I relaxed, and Megan relaxed. The tenderness from our first kiss returned. Though I wasn't sure, I thought I felt a bit more passion this time on her end. I felt the first kiss was more of an experimental trial, but this one seemed more real. This kiss felt soft, sticky and sweet, all of the things needed for a good stolen kiss.

"So that's what it normally feels like to kiss you?" Megan asked. "I liked it." She leaned further to whisper in my ear. "Both times."

"Found one of yours," Tiffany said.

"Damn," Tawny said. "Was hoping you wouldn't."

Megan pulled away. Her index finger flew to her lips, giving me the universal signal to keep silent. She slid from the bed without effort, and came around to the foot of it. After a moment she stood in front of me with my shoes. She held my right foot up, and slipped that shoe on. I welcomed the help, as I still had not gotten used to the false nails. As she slipped my other shoe onto my left foot, her hands slid up my leg.

"You two ready?" Tawny asked. "I don't think I can run in these things."

"How did you get out here without being seen?" Tiffany asked.

"We walked along the fence," Tawny said. "Can't see it from the basement window."

"Good to know," I said.

"Let me find my shoes," Megan said.

Megan dropped to her knees. With one hand she felt around for her shoes. Her other hand stayed on my nylon-clad leg. In soft, light strokes, her hand gently slid up and down my calf. I think I had totally missed the boat on something. Megan acted as if we had suddenly become an item after one kiss. Okay, it was two kisses, but still… I didn't want to be her new girlfriend, or boyfriend. Now I had even confused myself.

"Found them," Megan said, finally taking her hand from my leg. She quickly slipped her shoes on. "We better check makeup."

"Oh yeah," Tawny said. "Here." She flicked on the light in a small bathroom.

"Tawny!" Tiffany said. "Won't they see the light?"

"Relax," Tawny said. "This is the one safe room of the pool house. Luckily it's the bathroom."

"How do you know all of this?" I asked.

"Experience," Tawny said.

"We come to a lot of Rachel's parties," Megan said.

We all crowded into the bathroom. Tawny and Tiffany stood behind Megan and I at the mirror. Megan quickly gussied herself up, and had to turn and help Tawny. It seemed kind of funny that she had to help an actual girl with makeup. I smiled at Tawny, and she rolled her eyes. I looked away to start on my own touch up. It was then that I felt a squeeze on my bottom, and I instantly looked at Tiffany.

That had to be Tiffany. Only it couldn't have been Tiffany. Both of her hands were up at her hair fixing her veil. She handed her lip gloss to me, and my eyes roamed back to Tawny. It had to be her, as Megan wasn't even facing me. Tawny kept a poker face though, causing me to simply go back to fixing myself up. Again, a hand grabbed the same cheek and gave it a firmer squeeze.

"Okay," I said. "Cut it out."

"Cut what out?" Tiffany asked.

"I know it's you Tawny," I said.

Tawny burst out laughing, causing Tiffany to join her. "I'm sorry," Tawny said, amidst laughter. "Tiffany told me to do it."

"Lies!" Tiffany said, trying to hide a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing to the poor girl?" Megan asked.

"Just this," Tawny said, grabbing my bottom once again.

This time I jumped, making Tawny enjoy it even more. Tiffany reached down and grabbed the other cheek. I turned around, fuming a bit at the teasing. Both girls just giggled and smiled, turning to each other to relish in their little inside joke. Then out of nowhere, I felt another hand grab my backside. Megan had gotten into the act now. She giggled when I jumped to face her.

"I'm sorry," Megan said. "Peer pressure."

"Well all of the pressure is on my bottom," I said, backing out of the room.

Tawny couldn't contain herself now. My statement made her lose control. Tiffany came toward me holding her arms out. She gave me a look like she wanted to consol me, and I let her wrap her arms around me. The next thing I knew, she had both hands on my bottom. She squeezed both cheeks, and pulled me into her. Unfortunately she couldn't turn it into a serious moment, and let go of me to go join Tawny in laughing.

"Okay," I said. "I'm going to go now."

I slapped Tiffany's lip gloss in her hand, and stormed out of the bedroom. Behind me I could hear awing, like I had pulled the life out of their little party. Tiffany caught up to me in the small living area of the pool house. She wrapped her arms around me, turning me into her for an actual hug. This time she genuinely consoled me. I wasn't extremely mad, just frustrated at the teasing. However, it was nice to know that she would come after me like she did.

Megan and Tawny soon joined us. Tawny put her hand on my shoulder and rubbed the top of my back. Megan got in on the hug and squished Tiffany and I together more. We stayed like that for awhile. Then Megan moved over to peer out the window, and Tawny soon joined her. Tiffany didn't want to let go of me, and I didn't want her to either. The comforting hug felt wonderful.

"We have to slip out, and quickly go around behind the pool house," Tawny said, watching the house. "Then follow the fence back to the garage, and try to slip back into the party."

"Should we all go together?" Tiffany asked, still running her hands up and down my back.

"Better that we do," Tawny said. "If we go one at a time, that's four chances for them to spot us." She looked at Megan. "And I really don't want to get caught sneaking into their pool house."

"We should've never come out here," I said, resting my chin on Tiffany's shoulder.

"Coming out here was totally worth it," Tiffany said, breaking our hug. "Just getting caught going back won't be."

"If we don't get caught," Megan said. "We'll be able to do this again."

"You do come out here all the time don't you?" I asked.

"Maybe," Megan said, grinning.

"Megan and Bailey go first," Tawny said. "You two have the brightest costumes."

"Why didn't we have Tracy stay at the back door?" I asked. "She could've hit the lights for us to sneak across again."

"That wouldn't be fair to make her stand guarding a door all night," Megan said.

"I guess that's true," I said. "Never thought about that."

"We'll be fine," Tawny said. "Just stay close."

With that said, Tawny eased the door open. She snapped the lock on it, and waved Megan through. Megan took my hand, and I in turn took Tiffany's hand. Our little train quickly made its way around the corner of the pool house. Tawny caught up with us, struggling in her heels. I knew we would eventually hear about how much she hated them, but right now we stuck to the task at hand in silence.

Cautiously we sneaked down the fence row and made our way to the side of the garage. Tawny moved to the head of our pack, and carefully opened the door. She popped her head inside, and then gave us the all clear. We all piled into the garage, relieved to be out of the bitter autumn air. It wasn't much warmer in the garage, but at least there wasn't any wind. Tawny led us all over to a big refrigerator, and opened it up.

"Take some soft drinks in," Tawny said. "Nobody will wonder why you're out here."

Tawny started distributing cans to us, two at a time. Megan took hers and headed for the door. Soon she disappeared, back into the house and the party still in progress. Tiffany went next, so it didn't look like Megan and Tawny were out here alone. I started to go, but Tawny stopped me. She waited until Tiffany had been gone a moment. Then she grabbed her own two cans, and shut the door.

"I wanted to…" Tawny looked around like there were more people in the room. "That kiss back there…"

"It was nice," I said.

"Yeah," Tawny said. "Nice…" She looked confused for a moment. "I think it was a little more than nice." She gave me a half smile. "I really liked it."

"Really?"

"Well don't sound so surprised," Tawny said. "You make an amazingly sexy girl with a little effort."

"No," I said. "I mean… I liked it too." I bit my lower lip. "I just don't know what to think, or what to say about it." I sighed. "It's just all so new to me. Plus it sort of felt… I don't know."

"Yeah," Tawny said. "I don't want to complicate things for you. I mean, you're with Tiffany."

"And you're with Megan."

"Right," Tawny said. "Maybe it was nothing, but I just wanted to tell you."

"Maybe…" I said, gazing at Tawny longingly.

"We should get inside," Tawny said. "I'm freezing my butt off in these girly clothes."

"Actually," I said, as Tawny brushed past me. I waited until she turned to face me. "You look really pretty."

"You think?" Tawny asked.

"Yes," I said. "You should wear stuff like that more often."

"Like this costume?" Tawny asked with a slight laugh.

"More feminine stuff I mean," I said. "Colors like that, and I like the skirt. You look cute in it." I looked down. "You've got nice legs too."

"Thanks," Tawny said, offering up another of her rare blushes. "I'll think about it."

I watched Tawny walk to the door. She looked over her shoulder at me. After flashing me a subtle smile, she opened the door and walked into the house. I stood for a moment, trying to anchor myself in the waves of the feelings and emotions washing over me. This had been a strange night, and it was far from over. I still had to make it through about two more hours of party. I shifted the cans in my hands, and walked to the door, prepared to face the music inside.

"There you are," Vince said, as I walked into the house. "Been looking for you."

"Me?" I asked.

"Of course," Vince said, taking the burden of the drinks from my hand. "I thought we might share another dance or two." He winked at me. "Maybe more than two?"

"That…" I looked over to see Tiffany giving me a sly smile and two big thumbs up. "Sounds nice," I said, taking Vince's hand.

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To Be Continued...
 

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Part 7

I never quite got used to the rough, stiff gray carpet of Doctor Dinesh's office. No matter how long I stood or walked on it, the stuff had no give to it. It felt like walking on little beads of plastic, but not as smooth. The stuff seemed to scratch at my feet, with only the thin layer of my cotton ankle socks to protect them. I actually preferred the no-slip rubber of the scales I had stepped up onto.

"Alright," Jennifer said. "Let's see here…"

Jennifer happened to be Doctor Dinesh's nurse. As far as I could tell, she was his only nurse. The only other people in his offices were an elderly receptionist, and another doctor I only saw once. He had an office in the back, but I never went to see him. Only in passing had Doctor Dinesh, or Rajan as I liked to call him, introduced me to the man. His last name was Brooks, as I recalled from the introduction and the sign on the front door.

"You've grown about… another quarter inch," Jennifer said, looking at my charts. "Looks like a nice steady pace." She jotted down the info. "Five feet and quarter inch now."

I watched her fiddle around with the scales. Her hazel eyes peered out over thinly framed glasses. They reminded me of Tiffany's eyes, though they were quite a bit brighter. She had her curly red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. It was pretty typical for her, as I'm sure it was typical for most women in her profession. She glanced up from the numbers and noticed me gazing at her. I shot my eyes away.

"Everything okay?" Jennifer asked.

"I was just noticing your glasses," I said.

"Oh. You like them?" she asked. "I just got them this week."

"They look nice on you," I said. "I didn't know you wore glasses though."

"Just for reading," Jennifer said. "I always lose them though." She smiled at me, and looked down to adjust the scales a bit more. "Up to a hundred even now. That's good." She raised her eyebrow toward me. "Not all Halloween candy I hope."

"No," I said. "I really didn't have that much."

"Have you been eating healthier?" she asked.

"A little bit," I said, recalling my meals at home getting more healthy.

"Started any exercise regimens?"

"I've been meaning to," I said. "There's this boy I'm thinking about jogging with." I paused, a bit ashamed of offering up the information, but she didn't seem to pay much attention to it. "I'm trying to think of a right way to ask him."

Jennifer looked up at me and smiled. "You say, 'can I jog with you?' and set up a schedule with him," she said.

"It's not that simple," I said, blushing a bit.

"Oh," Jennifer said. "I see… Have a bit of a crush on him do we?"

"Sort of," I said, shifting my eyes to the side. "It's complicated."

"I know how that goes," Jennifer said. "Just be direct. He might like the initiative, and you'll get to know him better in the process." She poked me in the belly gently with the eraser of her pencil. "And you'll be getting exercise." Her thin pink lips produced a smile. "Doctor Dinesh is going to be on your case about it next."

"He's already mentioned it," I said.

"Well if he's mentioned in," Jennifer said, "then he wants you to be doing it."

I stepped down from the scales, back onto the rough gray carpet. Jennifer hadn't said anything about where to go, so I stood there and watched her write stuff on my chart. She seemed involved with whatever she had going on, and looked up at me absentmindedly. The silence continued, as she stared blankly like she was looking through me. Then she scribbled something else down. I decided to busy myself with something, and picked up one of my sneakers to put on.

"You can leave those here," Jennifer said, without looking up. "Nobody else will be coming in today." She pointed to an open door down the hall. "If you could step into exam room two, I'll be in there shortly."

I'd never seen Jennifer act this way. She seemed almost robotic in nature. It probably wasn't anything to get worked up about. Maybe she just had a bad day. Usually she was friendlier. She stepped out of my way to let me pass, and I walked down to the exam room. I groaned inwardly as I saw a gown set out on the exam table. This normally meant I had another thorough examination coming.

I hated full examinations. They always made me uncomfortable, yet I knew they were more than likely necessary with my condition. Usually they came once a month. Still, they felt cold and calculated. I was always given the option to have an adult present, but considering my stepfather Tom brought me to most of the appointments, I felt more comfortable not having an adult present. Megan at least gave me some hope, as she claimed full exams were becoming less common for her. She said it was mostly Jennifer checking her development now.

"I'll take your blood pressure," Jennifer said from behind me. She startled me a bit, making me jump. "Then I'd like to take a few measurements before I have you slip into your gown." She closed the door behind her. "Go ahead and remove your shirt and jeans."

Jennifer stepped over to a counter, and started to sift through my paperwork. I casually stepped over to the corner of the room. Even though I'd been through this routine before, Jennifer wasn't ever in the room. I gulped hard, and reached for the button of my jeans. Soon I was stepping out of them, and placing them neatly in the chair. My shirt soon followed, and I turned around to find a waiting Jennifer.

She wasn't staring at me, but merely stood by the table waiting. When she saw me approaching, she patted the edge of the exam table. I stepped up on a stair to help me get up to the table. Meanwhile, Jennifer moved the examination gown onto my lap, and had me sit in its place. She then wrapped a black strap around my arm, and casually pumped it up. Two of her fingers sat on my wrist, to take my pulse.

"Are you nervous?" Jennifer asked.

"A little," I said.

"Try to relax," Jennifer said. "Take a few deep breaths."

I did as Jennifer asked. She checked the reading, and wrote it down in my chart. Then she released the air from the black strap and removed it. After setting it back in the bin, she stepped over in front of me with a cloth tape measure. She gestured for me to come and stand in front of her. I slid from the table and joined her.

"I'll just get these measurements," Jennifer said, taking my gown from me. "Then you can put your gown on."

Jennifer had me stand up as straight as possible. She measured down my left arm, from the top of my shoulder to the tip of my middle finger. Then she repeated the process on my left arm. She jotted these down and returned to measure across from one shoulder to the other. This was definitely a new development, and I wondered why in the world my measurements were being taken. I figured it couldn't hurt anything.

Jennifer returned and had me move my hands up and out straight to my sides. She demonstrated for me to put my feet right next to each other, and I did so. Then she measured around my chest at the nipples. She jotted this down and measured my waist at my bellybutton. The last things she measured were my hips at their widest points, and around my neck. What in the world did she need all of that for?

"Okay," Jennifer said. "You may put your gown on." She turned and busied herself with my records. "Doctor Dinesh will be here in a moment."

I started to wonder if people got into the medical profession to poke and prod at other people, like low end interrogators of sorts. Whenever I saw Rajan, he was either poking me with a needle, or prodding around my body looking for signs of unusual development. Jennifer seemed entirely too busy to care what I did, so I wrapped the gown around me as quickly as possible. By the time I got the stupid thing tied in the back, Rajan entered the room.

"Hey Bailey," Rajan said. "How you doing today kiddo?"

"Good I guess," I said.

"Did you have a good Halloween?" he asked.

"I had a lot of fun," I said.

"Good!" He gave me a smile. "I'm glad to hear it. Maybe we can talk about it later in my office."

Jennifer had also turned to smile at me. Apparently it was a big deal to these two that I had a good Halloween. My mind wandered back to it for a moment, as Rajan walked over next to Jennifer. I instantly recalled the dancing, not only with Vince, but the other girls. There were a few other boys too, but none of them as special as my first dance with Vince. He truly was a nice guy. Tiffany really picked a winner for a friend in him.

"Why don't you hop on up here?" Rajan asked, patting the exam table. "I'll take a quick look at your charts."

"He seems a little…" Jennifer's voice trailed off as she conversed in the corner with Rajan.

A few seconds later, Rajan pulled over a stool and sat with my chart in front of me. He was actually below me, as the stool made his chin come to about my knee on the exam table. After a few moments of flipping my papers back and forth, he tossed the file onto the counter. Jennifer soon gathered it up and held her pencil like she was ready to take a letter. They both looked so serious.

"May I?" Rajan asked, reaching for my left foot.

I nodded.

"Have you had any swelling in the ankles or pain in your feet or hands?" Rajan asked, as he started to massage various areas of my feet.

"No," I said.

"Any unexplained bruises or joint pain?" he asked, as he held my left knee and flexed my foot.

"None that I can recall," I said, watching him do the same to my other foot.

"Do you know what color nail polish you're wearing today?" Rajan asked.

"What?" I asked, wondering how in the world he knew.

"Ah, I got you there!" Rajan said, smiling. "I just want you to relax, Bailey." He patted my leg a couple of times and rolled over to the counter. "Nurse Sweeny told me you had an elevated pulse today."

"I'm just a little nervous," I said.

I looked down at my feet. It was then that I realized I could vaguely make out the fuchsia nail polish underneath my socks. Thinking Rajan had just assumed with my condition that I wore nail polish, I felt a little uneasy that he had just seen through the lightweight cotton covering my toes. I hadn't wanted to remove it, as it had been the last remaining memento from Halloween. Sadly I had to scrap the false nails on my fingers by Saturday afternoon.

"I figured that to be the case," Rajan said, as he smiled back at me. "Have you had any problems with the treatments I've been administering? Dizziness? Fatigue?"

"My friends pointed out that I seem a bit distracted," I said. "Usually a week after each shot."

"Well…" Rajan flipped a page over in my folder, and then looked up at me. "That would make sense at this point in time." He stood from his stool. "It's also what I planned on talking to you about today."

"What is it?" I asked, sensing something was wrong.

Rajan held the folder down at his waist, and looked straight at me. "I went over your blood work twice this past week," he said, moving to lean against the counter. "I was hoping there would be some change by now, but there's no evidence of any. I think we discussed hypogonadism didn't we?"

"I believe so," I said, knowing that term had been in my head ever since Rajan told me about it. "You said something should've changed. Is something wrong?"

"Well…" Rajan held up my file and flipped through it. "Wrong would be a strong word for it." He walked back over with my chart. "You have a more pronounced case than I first suspected."

"I do?"

Rajan nodded, showing me a chart that looked entirely Greek to me. "The blood work brought it to my attention, and looking at you today I can see evidence of it." His face turned rather somber. "Testosterone levels are a very picky thing, and the slightest change should've had the impact we were looking for. However, I'm afraid the testosterone treatments have been ineffective, and I'm even at the opinion now that your body is fighting the treatments. I'm recommending we discontinue them after today. At least in the dosage you're receiving. I remember us having a discussion about this as well."

"Yes," I said, straining to get comfortable in the stupid paper gown. "I'd like to stop them all together."

"We'll be giving you a couple more at lower dosages," Rajan said, going back to my charts. "And we'll be monitoring those very closely to see if your body reacts negatively. It also seems you have a slight case of AIS."

"What's that?"

"Androgen insensitivity syndrome," Rajan said. "It's very mild, as there are no signs of abnormal genitalia, but it appears you may have reached your maximum potential for development. At least as far as your body alone can manage."

"I don't understand," I said, growing more concerned.

"I'll try to explain," Rajan said, putting the chart on the counter. "The typical male adolescent needs testosterone, among many other things, for their body to go through virilization during puberty. This creates androgens which in turn help develop the masculine features resulting at the end of puberty. Pubic hair, facial hair, growth of genitalia and even bone structure rely on these androgens." He made sure I was with him before continuing. "If the body is insensitive, or the cells can't respond to androgens, it can prevent or impair the development of secondary sex characteristics, and in some extreme cases the primary function of the male specimen."

"So basically I have something that won't allow my body to be male?"

"In a way, yes," Rajan said. "That's the simplest way to look at it." His head nodded in a gesture toward my lap. "I've been watching for any signs of development in your genitalia, and they just aren't developing." He looked back into my eyes. "I was hoping the testosterone would promote development, but the AIS is interfering with that treatment."

"Well what can you do to fix it?" I asked.

Rajan motioned for Jennifer to hand him another folder. "There are a few options, but we can't really fix it," Rajan said, opening the folder. "Currently we can only treat the symptoms. There is really nothing that can be done about AIS at this current point in time."

"Wait…" I said. "There's no cure for it?"

"Unfortunately there is little that can be done about it," Rajan said. "We can manage your growth with hormones. This will provide you with a somewhat normal puberty. You may not grow up to be a basketball or football player, but there is hope for commonality."

I shook my head at his suggestion. There wasn't any reason to try to be a clone of Tom or Justin, when I wouldn't be able to completely become a man. It seemed ridiculous to me.

Rajan looked through the folder some more. "We can also let you continue to develop in your current state, by maintaining your hormone levels. It will lead to a slower puberty and you'll appear more androgynous."

"So I'll be stuck in the middle basically?" I asked.

"Precisely," Rajan said.

"That doesn't seem so bad," I said.

"Not for you. No," Rajan said. "I believe that's what you originally wanted, if I'm not mistaken."

"It is," I said, showing a small bit of relief. "I mean, maybe this isn't bad news after all."

"I like your optimism," Rajan said. "This can also be a viable option if you're considering sexual reassignment down the road." He glanced up at me. "You can, if you wish, go the other way from this point, and develop toward the female side of the spectrum." His shoulders slumped. "All of the options have their own risks. There may also be need for emergency surgeries down the road, if other problems arise, but don't let that keep you from pursuing the life you want to live."

"I don't know how to take any of this," I said, starting to panic. "I don't even know what half of this means."

"It's understandable," Rajan said. "I know you're scared, but we can take this one step at a time."

"I don't even know what step to take first," I said.

"We can discuss it in more detail in my office," Rajan said. "If you want, we can bring your father in."

"Stepfather," I said. "And no." I shook my head at Rajan. "He just complicates things. This won't be the 'cure' he's looking for."

"I understand," Rajan said. "I'll have Nurse Sweeny talk with him."

He motioned for Jennifer to act upon his suggestion, and she started gathering up papers and other information. Her haphazard approach to doing that almost fit with what was going on in my head. I felt like I was scrambling for information, tossing papers together to form some kind of solution to the problems I now had. Rajan gathered up some of my paperwork. After walking over to me, he clapped his hand down on my left shoulder. A reassuring smile spread across his face.

"Don't worry," Rajan said. "We'll get you through this." Afterwards he left the room.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked quietly.

"Oh, nothing's wrong with you honey," Jennifer said, dropping what she was doing and stepping over to consol me. "We'll get it all sorted out, and you'll go on to have a happy normal life."

"You must have a strange view of what normal is," I said.

"It comes with the territory," Jennifer said. "Come on. Let's get you dressed."

Jennifer helped me down from the table. She had to brace me until the blood returned to my legs. Then she turned around to give me a bit of privacy. I hurried into my jeans. Jennifer turned just as I had them zipped up. She took my gown from me, and waited for me to slip my shirt on. Then she walked me out of the exam room and down to Rajan's office.

Rajan was sitting in his high-backed black leather chair when I walked into the office. Jennifer left me once I passed the threshold. The carpet felt horrible still, but it was a bit warmer than the tile floor of the exam room. This was especially so where the sun streamed in through the large window. Behind his large wooden desk, Rajan looked rather regal. He gave me another one of his reassuring smiles as I strolled over to the couch.

"I know I fed you a lot of information in there, and I'm sorry," he said. "I should've given it to you in more manageable bites."

"I don't know how on earth you would make it manageable," I said.

"Perhaps smaller words?" Rajan offered up a half smile.

I returned the smile, but my heart wasn't in a light mood. "I understood the words. I'm just… I'm still trying to process it."

"Well let's process it together," Rajan said, flipping open my folder. "One step at a time…"

Nine whole days had passed since I saw Rajan. Over a week had gone by, and I still felt as I did that day in his office. The girls knew something was wrong. Tiffany and Tawny perhaps sensed it the most. I just didn't have the heart to tell anyone, at least not yet. To be honest, the one person I wanted to talk to about it, I hadn't seen for awhile. I actually wanted to talk it over with Nathan, of all people.

Tom had insisted that my blood be tested again. Rajan couldn't even convince him that he had it run twice, and was positive of the results. It was like Tom didn't want to hear those results. He didn't want to see the real problem. Instead, Tom wanted to push it all into the realm of something curable. He had to be the one to fix me, for some reason. I feared this had more to do with his past than the present.

I'd been so consumed in all of my problems, that I couldn't see the storm of trouble surrounding me. I didn't even want to hear my friends. When they told me kids were starting to talk, about the Halloween party, and how they had discovered I was dressed like a sailor girl, I ignored it. That's why I missed the signs. All it took was a randomly rare day, when Tiffany failed to walk with me back to homeroom after lunch.

"Hey sissy!"

I instinctively raised my eyes to see a young boy of Mexican descent coming toward me. Maybe I was so used to the berating comment coming my way, that I acknowledged it for that reason alone. At any rate, this kid seemed delighted that the insult got my attention. In fact, it opened the gateway to the scene forming amidst the busy hallway. He honestly believed he had called me on what he thought I was.

"See," the boy said to another. "I told you he'd answer to it."

"I wonder why she didn't paint her nails this week Gil," the other boy responded.

"Who knows," Gil said. "She probably ran out of polish using it all the time."

I finally recognized the two boys as part of the trio that knocked me down the month before. Since there were only two, I assumed the third was close by. He probably sat in the crowd ready to strike. I had very few options, as the two boys came toward me rather quickly. Either I could prepare for another trip to the floor, or I could try to avoid them. I chose to go around and avoid them, but braced myself for the inevitable.

"I heard you like dancing with the boys," Gil said, causing a few students to pause and look at me. "Would you like to dance with me?"

He stepped in front of me. I tried to step around him, but he stepped in my way again. The other boy came up beside me, and together they blocked my path. My eyes lowered to the floor, and I felt the uncontrollable inner wincing of my body prepared to be struck. I felt a presence behind me, and I knew it was the third boy of their trio. Gil lowered his head to get right up into my face.

"You don't want to dance with me sissy?" Gil asked.

"I just want to go to class," I said.

"What's the matter?" Gil asked. "You don't feel like dancing without your little sailor girl costume?"

"I heard she had cute little curls under her hat," one of the boys said.

He flipped my hair up, causing me to pull my head away. The other boy caught me on the recoil, and flipped my hair up on the other side. I shook my head vigorously, trying to get them to back away from it. This just made them laugh at me. My eyes raised to peer into Gil's brown eyes. He had a menacing looking on his pudgy face.

"Did you wear panties under your costume?" Gil asked.

"I bet she did," the boy on my right said. "I heard she wore makeup too."

"And perfume," the other boy said.

"You went all out then," Gil said. "How many boys did you make out with?"

"None," I said.

"I bet it was at least ten," Gil said. "I bet those lips of yours got a workout." He quickly reached up to squeeze my cheeks, making my lips pout out.

"Cut it out," I said, backing away.

Only I couldn't back away much at all. The other two boys pushed me back to Gil. He reached for the waistband of my jeans. I, in turn, slapped his hand away, which only produced a smile. Another of the boys grabbed my butt, making me jerk away toward the other boy. He proceeded to take a lock of my hair and mockingly sniff it. Gil started laughing, and I decided to give him a small shove to get by.

This didn't please him at all. Gil reached out and slapped my pre-algebra book from my hands. A crowd of students started to gather, as he callously kicked the book across the floor. I made one last effort to brush past him, when he shoved me back. The boy's soon got around me and started shoving me back and forth, around in a circle. It was slow at first, and I could see the students all whispering amongst themselves.

"I guess if the sissy won't dance with us, we can make her dance for us," Gil said.

"Too bad she's not dressed all pretty for us," one boy said, then shoved me over to the other.

Some of the students started to laugh at my predicament. No matter how much I tried to get away from the boys, the spinning and tripping around confused me. I didn't even know which boy I was headed to until I got there, and then they would push me away randomly to another boy. My hair flew around in my face, temporarily obscuring my sight. If I let my guard down for a moment, they took the opportunity to grope me before spinning me away.

"Please stop," I said, as I stumbled toward Gil.

"Thtop it you guyth," one of the boys said in a mocking lisp.

"No need to get your panties in a bunch," the other boy said, before pushing me back into Gil.

Gil's hands clamped down on my upper arms. I winced a little from the pain. As I struggled to get away, he just laughed with his friends. Finally I tried swatting at him. This just made them laugh harder, as I looked like a girl slapping with only my forearms free. He then shook me back and forth violently, until most of the fight had gone out of me. After a moment, the other two kids walked up closer behind me.

"Let me go!" I said, trying to sound as tough as possible.

Gil lifted his right hand. I thought for a moment he was actually going to let me go. Then my face felt a searing pain, as his hand flew across it. The jerk had actually slapped me! I could feel my cheek burning now. It pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, as the blood rushed to it. I could actually feel the shape of his hand on my face.

"Don't back talk me girl!" Gil said.

The other two boys laughed uncontrollably behind me. Gil grabbed my arm once more, and then shoved me hard into one of the other boys. He spun me around and shoved me even harder back into Gil. Soon they were pushing me faster and rougher than they had done previously. The hallway started to spin. I could hear voices of students. Some asked the boys to give it a rest, others wanted them to continue.

My knees became weak from all of the spinning. My body felt sore from twisting and jerking, as well as the hard landings I was experiencing in the boys' hands. I lashed out. A few of my backhands and slaps connected, but they didn't seem to faze the boys. Eventually I collapsed to the floor, shot back and forth like a pin ball into their legs and knees. I fell on my back and looked up to see Gil's foot about to stomp down on me.

As I peered up toward the florescent hall lights, I braced myself to be stomped into the floor by all three boys. I could hear a female adult's voice beg the question of what was going on. Sadly I felt it to be too distant. She would never discover this in time to stop any damage. While I watched the inevitable about to reign down on me, I suddenly saw a hand appear out of the corner of my eye.

Actually, the hand was a fist. It connected soundly against Gil's cheek, sending him reeling back into the crowd of students. They in turn pushed him back. This student, who I didn't recognize at all, was now pelting Gil with hit after hit. Then I saw Jason Coleman over me. He shoved one of the other boys, and stepped over me to take him back away. I tried to collect myself, to maybe help out in some way.

The fight, however, was close to an end before it even began. Several teachers, the principal and even the school security guard were approaching the scene. The principal screamed for us to break it up, but Jason didn't want to let his target go. He dragged him back over to where Gil was being pulverized, and threw him to the floor. The third boy had taken off into the crowd of students.

"Coleman! Bellamy!" the principal shouted. "My office now!"

The security guard had to drag the other kid off of Gil. Meanwhile, Jason and the other boy were being escorted by teachers to the principal's office. Finally they got Gil up, and determined he had to be taken to the nurse. I watched the other three being hauled off to the office. Slowly I stood, prepared to dust myself off and head to class. That's when the principal turned to me.

"I'll be seeing you in my office as well, Mister Walker," he said, holding his hand up to show the way.

As I passed Principal Johnson, Vince rushed up to me. He had a solemn and concerned look on his face, but knew we didn't have time to talk. I looked down to see him holding my book up. After taking it from him, I gave him a subtle smile, and proceeded to the office. It always felt like a death march when going to the principal's office. I can laugh now about it, but students always thought it had this magical power or something.

"Miss Swanson I need the files for Gilberto Rodriguez, Jason Coleman, Patrick Bellamy, Shane Connors and Bailey Walker," Mr. Johnson said, as he ushered me into the outer office. "And could you tell the nurse I'd like to see Gilberto when he's done there?"

"I'll get right on it," Ms. Swanson said.

"Have a seat," Mr. Johnson said to me, "but don't get comfortable." He turned to the kid who had jumped in to rescue me from Gilberto. "Mister Connors…"

At least now I knew who he was, but I didn't know why he jumped in to help. I watched Shane follow the principal into his office. The room grew quiet. Patrick, I now knew his name too, wouldn't make eye contact with anyone. Jason on the other hand looked directly at me from across the room. He gave me a knowing half-smile, and a quick wink.

I sighed heavily, and looked down at my sneakers. The left one had come untied, but I didn't feel like fixing it. After a moment, the secretary got up to call the nurse on the intercom. Once she got that small communication out of the way, she lifted a small stack of files and went to knock on the principal's door. She disappeared into the room, and shortly after came back out.

About the time the principal finished with Shane, Gilberto came into the office to report. He had a rather quickly developing black eye on his left side, and a small cut on his bottom lip. The principal ushered him in right away. Gilberto passed me, sneering at me with the side of his face. I looked away, deciding to fixate my attention on the clock. The principal wandered over to the secretary's desk before going in.

"I need to see Eddie Nichols," he said, "and his file as well."

"Sure," Ms. Swanson said, getting right to work on the request.

Minutes ticked away on the office clock. Eventually Gilberto left the principal's office and reported back to class. The principal took Patrick next. About the time his door closed, the third kid from earlier popped into the office. He had a solemn look on his face, and when he saw me, the look turned into one of malcontent. He stepped over to the secretary and handed her a note.

"Have a seat Eddie," Ms. Swanson said, after glancing at the note. "Mister Johnson will see you in a moment."

The moment actually turned out to be twenty minutes. I know, because I watched it all on the clock. Patrick came out right as the tardy bell rang for next period. He wouldn't even look at me as he strolled out of the office. Mister Johnson waved Eddie in, and stepped over to get his file from the secretary. As Eddie strolled in behind the principal, he mouthed the word "bitch" at me.

"So what did you two do?" Ms. Swanson asked, glancing back and forth at us.

"I didn't do anything," I said.

"Oh," Ms. Swanson said. "You all say that."

"He actually didn't," Jason said. "Those three were harassing him in the hallway, and Shane and I jumped in to help him."

"Well that was nice of you," Ms. Swanson said. "You two friends?"

"Yeah," Jason said, giving me a pleasant look. "We go way back."

I smiled, and shook my head at his comment. Unless he considered bullying me in the past as an act of friendship, there was no other way Jason and I went way back.

"Well I'm afraid it may cost you a few days in I.S.S.," Ms. Swanson said. "Unfortunately…"

She went back to work on something. I looked at Jason, trying to express some sort of remorse for him getting punished for this. He just shrugged his shoulders, and gave me a goofy look. I think he was trying to make me feel better. It worked a little bit, but I still felt bad about this entire ordeal. The door to Principal Johnson's office suddenly swung open.

"Coleman," he said. "You're on deck."

"Great…" I said, after the door shut again. "I hate being last."

"Last is usually a good thing in this office," Ms. Swanson said. She looked up at me. "Usually by then Mister Johnson has the whole story, and it's over quicker."

After a quick smile, she stood to walk to the other room. She came back a minute later with several printouts to sort through. Amidst the sounds of paper shuffling and the clock ticking, I had plenty of opportunity to collect my thoughts. I tried to work out my side of the story in my head, preparing myself for any questions he might ask. My stories always seemed to fail when I got in trouble, but that didn't stop me from trying.

"Alright," Jason said, as he exited the inner office.

The principal strolled out into the outer office, and watched Jason leave. He turned to the secretary and shook his head. Then he turned to look at me. With a raised eyebrow, he gestured for me to join him in his office. This time, he let me go first. I stepped in and strolled over to a chair to sit down. The door closed, and Mister Johnson strolled quietly over behind his desk.

"Bailey Walker," Mr. Johnson said, as he sat down. "I like that name." He looked directly at me. "Why don't you tell me what happened today?"

"I was going to homeroom after lunch, and those three started harassing me," I said.

"Eddie, Patrick and Gilberto?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"Yes," I said. "They started pushing me around and knocked me to the floor."

"They claimed you were fighting back," Mr. Johnson said. "Were you?"

"I was pushing to get away from them," I said. "I wasn't fighting though. I just wanted them to leave me alone."

"How did Shane and Jason get involved?"

"They just came and defended me," I said. "I didn't ask them to though. I didn't even expect anyone to help."

"There were some allegations that some comments were made that many would find derogatory in nature," Mr. Johnson said. "Is this true?"

"Yes," I said, looking down. "They were trying to humiliate me I think."

"Well, unless this has been an ongoing thing, I can't really do anything about the verbal assault," Mr. Johnson. "Have they been continuously harassing you?"

"This is the first time the three have ever talked to me," I said.

Mister Johnson nodded. "I just hope you can understand that they're simply words," he said, "and they can't hurt you."

"I know that," I said. "It's not the first time I've ever been insulted."

"Okay," Mr. Johnson said. "You're welcome to talk to the counselor after this if you'd like."

"No," I said. "I'm fine." I tried to reassure him, if anyone, with a half-hearted smile.

"The other boys involved in this conflict got three days of in-school suspension," Mr. Johnson said. "I'll be calling all of your parents after we're through here." He looked over his report one last time. "If you were actually participating in the fight, I'd give you the same as them. However, I believe that you were indeed only trying to get away." He stood up from his desk. "So I'm just going to give you a note, and you can head back to class."

"Thank you Mister Johnson," I said, standing from my chair.

"I'm hoping this is the end of it," Mr. Johnson said, "but come straight to me if they, or any other students start harassing you again. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, feeling better now that I had someone to turn to, even though I probably would not turn to him.

"Hopefully this will be the last time I see you in here for something of this nature," Mr. Johnson said, as he handed me a slip of paper.

"I hope so too," I said.

"You have a good rest of the day Bailey."

He walked me over to the door, and opened it for me. I strolled out, sharing a subtle smile with the secretary on my way. As I walked through the empty halls, I let my relief wash over me. It made me feel a little light headed, but completely invigorated. I didn't need this on top of everything else in my life. I'm glad things worked out, at least for the moment. It felt like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

I continued on my way to my locker, to get my reading book, but midway there the bell rang. Students started pouring out of the classrooms. I had missed an entire hour of class time. It actually made me mad, because I enjoyed reading class. I guess I just had to live with it, and get my things for speech. At least seeing Megan in that class would cheer me up.

The rest of the day dragged on without incident, but I had nothing but a long talk waiting for me at home. Since the school called my mother, she made it a point to be there when I arrived. She had been sitting with Tom, perhaps quite a while, and were murmuring when I came in the front door. The bus roared down the street as I closed the door behind me. My brother wasn't home; his car missing from the driveway.

"Bailey?" my mother called from the living room.

"It's me," I said, reluctantly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, stepping over to the top of the staircase.

"I've been better," I said, trudging up the stairs.

"You're not hurt or anything are you?"

"No," I said. "I just don't feel that great."

"Well we'd like to talk to you," she said, wrapping her arm around my shoulder as I reached the top of the stairs. "It won't take long, and then you can go lie down."

Apparently my parents had no concept of time. Their idea of something not taking long, consisted of an hour long talk and a game of twenty questions. They concluded that what had happened was the honest truth; that I had been bullied at school. Tom's line of questioning pried at trying to see if I instigated anything, but his investigation came up short. Mother, on the other hand, invested all of her questioning to see if they had done any mental or physical damage to me.

By the time we got past the five hundred simple rules of avoiding conflict, Tom and my mother both happened upon a solution. I do use the term solution loosely here, as it had nothing to do with fixing the problem. They suggested I take some time away from dressing or acting the part of a girl. In their mind, this would probably cause the other kids to back off. However, in my mind, this sounded like another ploy of Tom's to get me to stop being girly.

They also thought I could benefit with a little time off from seeing my friends. Tom felt their influence caused me to pursue things which made me more feminine. I tried to argue that it was my own decisions that made me pursue these things, but he shot me down. My mother claimed it would only be for a week or two. Tom suggested until after the Thanksgiving weekend, and my mother quickly accepted that as a good time. I reluctantly gave in, sad that I wouldn't get to see my friends outside of school for a little over two weeks.

After all things were discussed and decided, I dragged myself to my room. I tossed my school bag across the room, pulled out my diary, and collapsed on my bed. My hand feverishly flew across the pages, writing about the unfair circumstances of the events that day. I wrote about the jerks at school and the jerks at home. Eventually my hand became sore and began to tire. My eyes grew heavy.

I vaguely recall my mother coming in that night. She had me take an aspirin with a small glass of water, making sure I drank it all. I managed to get my shoes off, and with her help I crawled under the covers. Once she got everything situated with me, she cautiously took my diary, closed it, and set it on the table next to my bed. Then she turned off my lights and left me to drift into a long sleep.

My mother stayed home with me the next day. We talked a little, but I mostly stayed in my room. In fact, I got rather used to my room the next two weeks. I got to see my friends at school, but I reluctantly had to turn down invites to hang out. Tiffany and I still talked on the phone. I really wanted to see her though, to talk in person. She would understand what I was going through.

The days passed slowly. I got to hang out with Nathan and Justin the following Monday. While neither Nathan nor Justin were on the varsity team, they seemed sad about the varsity missing the finals by one game. Justin kept saying they'd go to state next year. He claimed he would be starting quarterback, and Nathan would be starting as a sophomore. They'd "tear up the field" in his words. Nathan laughed at this, knowing it would be unrealistic. He claimed there were far too many talented juniors ahead of him on the team right now. It was pretty rare to make varsity as a sophomore.

Though I didn't care too much for football, just talking to someone different in the house was refreshing. Nathan told me I could come over and hang out any time I wanted, but I seldom took him up on this offer. Though I desperately wanted to talk to him about the recent events in my life, with our slight bit of history, I still felt a little nervous around him. It wasn't too bad with Justin around. So I kept my time seeing Nathan to times when Justin would be there too.

The days continued to trudge along. Thursday morning I got a somewhat rude awakening from my mother. She had pulled the curtains back from my window, and was shaking me awake. The clock said nine o'clock, and I knew I didn't have school that day. It was Thanksgiving day. I tried to turn back over to sleep, but my mother pulled my sheets away and shook me more.

"You have to get up now sweetie," she said.

"Why?" I asked. "I don't have to go anywhere."

"You need to get a shower," my mother said. "My sister will be here soon."

"Why did they have to come here?" I asked.

"Because her eldest daughter, Laurie, is starting her new job in Arizona come January," my mother said. "I haven't seen her since she started college, and I thought it would be nice to see her once more. Thanksgiving seemed like a good time to see them all. Besides…" She patted me on the head. "You like your cousins."

"Laurie is okay," I said, "but Kelly is a pain."

"She likes you," my mother said. "You're a month older than her and she kind of looks up to you."

"She's always following me around, getting in my things…" I sighed. "And she has an obsession with pinching me."

"You haven't seen her in over four years," my mother said. "That phase is probably far in the past."

"I doubt it," I grumbled.

"Just go get your shower," my mother said. "You'll feel better."

Following her inept prognostication, my mother left my room to check on the turkey. She always thought showers were instant cures for anything. Truthfully, I just wanted to be left alone. Since I couldn't be myself, I didn't want to be anything for anybody. Taking a break from dressing was the dumbest thing they ever came up with. All it did for me is make me miss it more. Then again, maybe that was the point.

The shower did feel good, but it didn't make me feel better. As the water cascaded down my body, I started examining myself. It wasn't every day I had the opportunity and time to really look myself over. My body appeared very much the same as it always had. I remained lean, the slight amount of muscle that I could retain just served to shape my body out. My head dropped, water rushing over my hair as I looked down at my slender feet. They hadn't changed size or shape either. Nothing about me had changed.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Stringy locks of hair started to cling to my face. I decided to let my dirty blonde hair grow out. Perhaps by summer I could go back to the spa and let Pam do something really cute with it. She had done a really fantastic job the last time, and I loved my adventure at the spa. Thinking about the spa got me thinking about the past summer. I sighed, slinging my head back and letting my wet hair whip behind me.

"Why am I even thinking about it?" I quietly asked myself. "There's no way I can keep this up."

I grabbed the shampoo, and slowly lathered my hair with it. Citrus-based fragrances filled the room as I massaged the shampoo into my scalp. About the time I went to rinse it out, I heard the faint chime of our doorbell. At least I would be safe in here for the moment. Hopefully the act of closing my bedroom door would keep my nosey cousin out of my things. If only I could be so lucky. Yet, something told me I better finish my shower quickly and see what she was up to.

My hair was still damp as I rushed out of the bathroom. Just as I suspected, my bedroom door sat wide open. Most likely my cousin had busied herself with rummaging through my drawers. She no doubt had her hands on my diary by now. I turned into my bedroom, and had to admit I was shocked. My room looked to be in perfect order, with only the addition of one extra body in the room.

"Kelly?" I asked quietly, not really recognizing my cousin.

Kelly's brown eyes opened wide with excitement. Her bronze face lit up, and she smiled as she dropped her hands to the side of my bed to help her stand up. She had been sitting there quietly, by herself, I guess since the time they got here. Her black hair had been put up with a pale blue ribbon that matched her innocent looking party dress. I assumed that her family had come dressed for the occasion, which made me feel like a bum in my jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

"You look nice," I said. "Different… but I guess I haven't seen you since second grade."

"Third actually," Kelly said, still smiling. "You look different than I remember too."

She stepped over and put her arms around me. I returned her hug, but secretly wondered when the pinching would come. As she broke the embrace, and stepped away, I could tell things were different. My mom had been right. I guess we both grew up. Kelly almost looked like her older sister had, when Laurie went off to college. It was kind of interesting to me, but it made me think of Tiffany and Kate, and how much they looked the same.

"So how is junior high here?" Kelly asked.

"It sucks," I said. "Way different than last year."

"Oh… I know! Right?" Kelly said. "It's like the world just changed or something." She flopped back down on my bed. "Girls are all in competition about makeup and boob size. I even got two of my friends pestering me to be a cheerleader next year!" She looked up at me, and bit her lip. "You're probably not into this conversation at all. I can tell."

"No," I said. "I mean…" I stepped over and sat at my desk chair. "The last time I saw you we were fighting over candy."

"Oh…" Kelly laughed a bit. "I've changed quite a bit since then."

"I can tell," I said.

"What about you?" Kelly asked. "What's new with you?"

"I'm actually having a hard time adjusting," I said.

"My mom said you'd had a bit of trouble this year," Kelly said. "Bullies and stuff."

"Yeah…" I reached up and scrunched my wet hair a bit with my fingers. "Bullies and stuff."

Kelly cocked her head to the right. "I was wondering --"

"Bailey," my mom said, tapping on the frame to my door. "Come in and talk to your aunt for a few minutes."

"Bailey?" Kelly asked, after my mother left.

"It's a long story," I said, standing with my cousin. "My mom didn't tell you?"

Kelly shook her head. "Think you got time to tell me?"

"Maybe later I can try," I said, waiting for her to exit the bedroom before me.

I approached the living room, and could hear the vaguely familiar voice of my other cousin, Laurie, talking to my brother. Tom and my aunt's husband, William, were nowhere to be seen. They probably had stepped out into the garage to talk and smoke a cigar. Tom always had a knack for bringing out the nice things for special occasions. I just saw it as a fake attempt to be likeable, but lately I'd been wrong about my stepfather.

"Zachary!" Laurie exclaimed, springing from the couch in the living room. "Or, I'm sorry, Bailey I guess it is now."

"Hi Laurie," I said, producing a smile.

She rushed over to give me a friendly hug. Laurie hadn't changed much at all, and the mental picture of her I had stored away in my head matched exactly to what I expected. She was slender, a bit on the tall side, and had the same bronze complexion as her younger sister. They both got a favorable gene somewhere that made them tan well. Granted my brother and I could tan well enough, but our cousins looked a lot better months after summer passed.

"You look so different," Laurie said, stepping back from the hug. "But good."

"I noticed that too," Kelly said, seeming to want to be in the conversation in any way possible.

"Thanks," I said, before I heard another female voice and felt another pair of arms spinning me around into a hug.

"Bailey…" my aunt said. "You look so grown up."

"Hi Aunt Kimberly," I said. "It's nice to see you again."

"It's weird," Laurie said. "You look different, and you have a different name too."

"You're like a whole other person," Kelly said.

"I don't see it," Aunt Kimberly said. "You look exactly the same to me. Maybe lost a bit of your baby fat?"

"I guess," I said.

"Maybe it's because I haven't seen you in so long," Laurie said. "Justin kind of looks different too."

"That's probably from the weight lifting," Justin said.

Justin stood, and came over to join us. I pictured him stepping in to rescue me from the swarm of women surrounding me. He just stood and smiled, taking on the goofy family-is-over part of his personality. Interestingly, he had on khaki slacks and a blue and gray sweater. Laurie had on a black knee-length a-line skirt and a forest green sweater. As I glanced back, to see my aunt in a heather gray dress, I realized I was the most underdressed one at the gathering. I had to change into a nice sweater at least, but I was surrounded by the gab squad.

"So how are you doing in school?" Aunt Kimberly asked.

"Okay I guess," I said.

"Junior high is rough," Laurie said. "I had a hard time with it."

"Just wait until high school," Justin said, looking at Kelly and me.

"Where's Aunt Susan?" Kelly asked, after glancing at me.

"She's in the kitchen," Aunt Kimberly said, not taking her focus off of me. "So your mom told me you had a little run-in with bullies a couple weeks ago."

"Just some jerks at school," I said, watching Kelly slip into the kitchen.

"They'll move on eventually," Aunt Kimberly said. "What classes do you like most?"

"Art and reading," I said. "Science is neat too I guess."

"I loved science," Laurie said. "Chemistry was the most fun. Wish you guys could have the teacher I had here at your high school."

After a few hundred more prodding questions from my aunt, she moved on to my brother. He livened up the conversation a bit, talking about how great his senior year would be. I kind of drifted off to the side of the conversation, and stood near the kitchen door. Between my aunt, Laurie and Justin talking, I could hear a quiet conversation between my mother and Kelly, though I couldn't make out the subject. Everything seemed normal for a change. It was like life had fallen back to the ordinary mundane, and the past few months were behind us all.

I stood and watched for a moment. Every word, every thought seemed focused around a normal family conversation. There wasn't any mention of my screwed up existence of living as a girl half of the time. That seemed so far removed from everything, yet it resonated in my mind. I started to picture myself removed from the family. Maybe things would go back to normal without me. It was about this time that Kelly came out of the kitchen, followed closely by my mother, and stood quietly next to me.

"Dinner will be about two hours," my mother said. "Kim, why don't we talk in here and let the kids run off and enjoy themselves?" She gave us all a knowing smile.

"That's fine," Aunt Kimberly said. She stood and looked directly at Kelly. "Stay out of trouble."

"Why don't we watch the game?" Laurie asked Justin.

"Sure," Justin said, seeming a bit surprised that Laurie would be into football.

Kelly tugged my shirt sleeve, and I turned to face her. "Come on," she said. "Football's boring."

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"Your mom said you had a cool art project you were working on," Kelly said. "Can I see it?"

"Sure," I said with a proud smile. "It's in my room."

I led Kelly back to my room. As I got down to pull a box of random keepsakes from under my bed, she quietly closed my door. She strolled over and took her spot on my bed again. I sat the box up on my bed, and slipped the lid off. After removing the latest art project for her to look at, I stepped over to my dresser. I grabbed a pair of my socks from the top drawer, and then thought about putting something nicer on. Kelly busied herself with looking over the picture, while I opened up my closet.

"She's pretty," Kelly said. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Well… she's a girl," I said, "and a friend. Her name's Tawny." I stepped over to get a picture of Tawny, and one of Tiffany. "Here's a picture of her."

"Wow," Kelly said. "You did a really nice job of her." She glanced at the other picture in my hand. "Who's that?"

"My actual girlfriend," I said, handing her the picture. "Tiffany."

"She's pretty too," Kelly said, holding both pictures over the art project. "You sure you don't like Tawny more?"

"Why would you say that?" I asked, looking at the limited selection of clothes in my closet.

"You put a lot of care into this picture," Kelly said. "Her eyes look almost real, and deeper emotionally."

"It's just a picture," I said, trying to brush off her observations.

"I don't know," Kelly said. "You put some real thought into this. Your pencil and shading gets softer near her cheeks and chin. Her lips are almost perfect."

I stepped over and took the art project from her. "It's just a picture," I said again. Then I slipped it back into the box.

"Well it's not like I'm going to tell on you," Kelly said. "I don't even know the girls."

"There's nothing to tell anyway," I said, turning away from her. I went back to fumbling around in my closet. "Why do you care anyway?"

"I care because you're family," Kelly said. "And I like you. I know I used to pester you a lot when we were younger, and I'm sorry about that."

"You could say that was an understatement," I said.

"I actually liked you more than our other cousins," Kelly said.

"Really?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. "You never showed it."

"That was my stupid way of showing it," Kelly said. "I paid more attention to you. Truth is, I thought you were more interesting. You were different in some way, but definitely a good way."

I slapped one of my shirts out of the way. "There isn't anything in here to wear."

"What's wrong with what you got on?" Kelly asked.

"Everyone's all dressed up," I said. "I feel… I don't know how I feel."

"Maybe because you're looking at the wrong side of your closet?" Kelly asked.

"What?!" I nearly shrieked, as I spun around to face her. "Did you go through my things? If you did…"

"I didn't," Kelly said, sitting up straighter. "Chill."

"What did you mean then?"

"Well…" Kelly glanced around my room. "You don't do a very good job of hiding it." She turned back to give me an understanding look. "Nail polish bottles on your desk. Cherry body lotion on your nightstand. Camisoles and other intimates, clearly not in your mother's size, that I saw when she had me toss a dish towel in the laundry room." She gestured toward the foot of my closet. "Most guys don't wear heels."

"What are you a junior detective now?" I asked.

"Those are just a few on a long list of stuff I've seen since I got here," Kelly said.

I suddenly felt very nervous in my own skin. "There's other stuff?"

Kelly nodded. "Half empty bag of cotton balls. Nail polish remover on your dresser is almost gone. That tells me you paint your nails a lot. You also take more than good care of your nails. You keep your hair long. Not to mention your box right here has a few too many feminine keepsakes." She grew hesitant and embarrassed for a moment. "And I caught a glimpse of your panties when you pulled the box out from under your bed."

"I…" I glanced around my room. Everything she had mentioned stood out like a sore thumb. I had gotten so used to having everything out, that I hadn't done a very thorough job of hiding any of it. Kelly had caught on to my secret life in one visit, having been here for less than an hour. My head dropped to look at the floor. "I told you it's a long story."

"I got most of it from your mom," Kelly said. "Except the fun, juicy parts I know you left out." She gave me a mischievous grin. "You gotta tell me more."

"I should be running you out of my room to be honest," I said, showing her I was a bit perturbed by her assessment.

"Don't be mad," Kelly said. "I just wanted you to know that I know, and it's okay."

"Still…" I said. "I feel violated now."

"Truth is…" Kelly said. "I knew something was up before we came over. Laurie and my parents were acting kind of strange, but I could tell they were keeping something from me."

"Great!" I said. "Now my secrets are going across state."

"They're not going anywhere," Kelly said.

"I bet this is why they told me I couldn't dress until after this weekend," I said. "I should've known something was going on."

"Well…" Kelly gave me a pleasant smile. "They can't stop you from dressing if you're already dressed."

"What?"

"Dress up for dinner," Kelly said. "I'll help."

"I don't know…" I said. "Tom was pretty clear about me not doing that."

"Everyone knows now," Kelly said. "Not like you're gonna hurt anything."

"No," I said. "Bad idea."

"Come on!" Kelly said, bouncing a bit on the bed. "You said yourself you don't want to wear any of those boring male clothes."

"I don't think so," I said.

"Then at least let me do something," Kelly said. She looked down at my feet.

"I don't think that's a good idea either," I said, catching on to what she had in mind.

"They'll never have to know," Kelly said. "You can cover it up." Her eyes opened a little wider. "Please?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine! But if we get caught, you're going down for it."

"Yay," Kelly said, changing her position on the bed. "Got any dark red?"

"Somewhere," I said, turning back to my dresser.

Truth be told, I virtually had half the selection at the local drugstore in my possession. I just kept adding to it for some reason. Most of the girls let me have colors they used once or twice and didn't care for at all. Kate even bought me a small selection as little gifts here and there. I pulled out a dark, almost blood red from my collection, and sat on my bed with Kelly. A few moments later and she was busy at work painting my toenails. Oddly enough, it felt new again, like the first time Tiffany had done it.

"So how did you get into all of this?" Kelly asked, as if reading my mind.

"Actually, my girlfriend doing exactly what you're doing right now," I said. "Only I started off painting hers."

"Lucky girl," Kelly said. "Wish I had a boyfriend that knew how to paint nails. Could have them done while I read or do my homework." She smiled at me. "You know she's got the best of both worlds."

"Why are you so interested in this anyway?"

Kelly paused for a moment. "I wouldn't say I'm interested." She put polish on another nail as she thought about it. "I mean it is interesting, but I just thought this would be fun for both of us. You said you've been down lately."

"It is kind of fun," I said. "And better than you chasing me around the yard pinching me."

Kelly giggled a bit. "I always figured you could take it."

"You pinched hard," I said.

"Oh I did not," Kelly said defensively. "You are such a girl!"

"I wouldn't go that far," I said, taking a more serious approach to her statement. "I'm not a girl."

"That's debatable," Kelly said, pointing down at my foot. A big grin spread across her face.

"You're the girly one," I said. "Running from every bug you saw." I laughed a bit. "You ran screaming when we wanted to catch lightning bugs."

"You guys were trying to put them on me! Besides… I have every right to be a girl," she said, giving me a smug look. "I am one. You on the other hand…" She looked at me sincerely for a few moments. "You have a right to be too, if you want."

"The more I think about it," I said. "The more I want to be."

Kelly looked up from painting another nail. "Yeah?"

"But it's going to be so hard," I said. "I can't ever settle on it."

"Life's hard," Kelly said. "Better to enjoy it the way you want to."

"Just afraid I'd be letting some people down," I said.

"That's their decision to be honest," Kelly said. "But this is your choice. If they can't accept it, I say to hell with them."

"Wow…"

"What?"

"I've never heard anyone say it like that," I said. "A bit cynical."

"Well it's the truth," Kelly said. "Hand."

"I guess so," I said, offering my hand to Kelly. "There's just times when the decision becomes more complicated than yes or no."

"Like?"

Before I knew it, my cousin had talked me through painting all of my fingernails. She kept talking to me, somehow keeping my mind off of my nails until they were completely dry. That's when it dawned on me what had occurred. Kelly actually got her way, and I had been too wrapped up and distracted to stop her edging me toward the inevitable. It wasn't until she stepped over to my dresser, that I realized she had seized control of the situation.

"Got any hose?" she asked.

"Hose?" My eyes sprung open to the reality of what was occurring. "I told you I can't dress. Tom will kill me."

"He's not going to do anything with us here," Kelly said. "Besides, my dad would kick his butt if he laid a finger on you."

"I don't know," I said. "I should even take this off."

"Look…" Kelly turned to face me. "You gotta put your foot down some time. You need to show them you're willing to face consequences, or it'll always be this tug-of-war game between you all." She turned to look through my drawer again. "Besides… I asked your mom already, and she basically said it was okay if you'd go along with it."

"Basically okay, or okay?" I asked, standing from my bed.

"Honestly," Kelly said, turning back to me with a pair of nude pantyhose in her hand. "She more or less hinted that it would be nice to see you dressed up for the occasion. And since you couldn't find anything to dress up in one way, we'll go the other way." She stepped over and held out the pantyhose. "Now put these on. Your nails should be dry by now."

"I really shouldn't," I said.

"You should," Kelly said. "They'll look nicer with the dress."

"Who said I'd be wearing a dress?" I asked, chuckling a little at her boldness.

"Just put them on," Kelly said.

Kelly stood in front of me, still holding the pantyhose out in front of her. We were the same age, but she was a bit taller, like her sister. She had a few inches on me, and even more with her stacked heels; probably five to six inches total. I felt a bit intimidated at the moment, and she seemed a bit pushy. For a brief moment I started to get the feeling that Kelly wasn't asking me to dress, but rather ordering me to dress. I reluctantly took the pantyhose from her hand.

"Now let's see what we can find in here," Kelly said, opening my closet up completely to reveal the other half of my wardrobe.

I stood and watched her for a moment. Kelly busied herself going through my entire wardrobe. She pulled things out, disapproved of them, and put them back in my closet. The whole time I stood wondering if I should even allow this, or if I should just ask her to leave my room. At any rate, I definitely didn't feel comfortable changing with her in the room. Even though she paid no attention to me at all now, I didn't want to even think about stripping in front of her.

"Oh perfect," Kelly said, pulling a crimson red dress from my closet. "Slightly elegant, and matches your nails." She turned to face me, and then suddenly looked disappointed. "Why didn't you put the hose on?"

"I don't feel comfortable with this," I said.

"Oh…" She draped the dress over my chair. "I thought you were used to changing in front of girls." She stepped over to my dresser, and pulled out a light pink padded bra; the same color as my panties. "Well I'll step out and scope out the place. You get changed, and I'll come help with your hair."

Kelly tossed the bra on my bed, and then stepped over to slip out of my room. She didn't even wait around for a rebuttal. I wasn't used to this kind of treatment at all. Normally Tiffany would lightly suggest things to me, but never push me to dress. Kelly seemed rather demanding about it, like I had no other choice. Thinking that the situation could only get worse if I didn't comply, I quickly lost my shirt and dropped my jeans.

Kelly gave me plenty of time to change. She gently knocked on my door, and then slipped back in a moment later. As she shut the door behind her, she mused over my attire. The paneled skirt of my dress skipped gently along my nylon-encased thighs, as I stepped away from the foot of my bed. It lifted away, while I twirled around at Kelly's behest, and collapsed with ease above my knees. The scoop neck showed just enough of my neckline, and the three-quarter sleeves showed just enough of my arms.

"Please tell me you have shoes to match that dress," Kelly said, as she put some hair essentials on my dresser.

"They're in the back I think," I said.

Kelly raced over to my closet, and stooped to look through my shoes. In a matter of seconds she was back up with some crimson suede shoes in her hands. Honestly, I didn't know if they were real suede or not. They were pretty inexpensive, perhaps cheap looking, but I had to have them for some reason. Kelly came over to me and helped me slip them on. My toes slid up to the peep toe, revealing a few of my painted toes through the pantyhose. The two-and-a-half inch wedge heel raised me up, and once she buckled the thin strap over my instep, I felt so elegant.

"Got any belts?" Kelly asked.

"A few in the third drawer," I said.

Kelly walked over to my dresser and pulled the third drawer open. After looking over the paltry selection, she pulled out an inch wide black belt. She stepped over and slipped it around my waist. Once she got it buckled and situated, she stepped back to look me over. She seemed satisfied, and went back to the dresser. Eventually she was rummaging through my drawers like she owned my stuff.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, stepping over to her.

"Makeup," Kelly said. "I was thinking light, but you definitely need some lipstick." She glanced at me. "Close to your nail shade if possible."

"Bottom drawer," I said, reluctantly.

"Ever thought about getting a makeup table?" Kelly asked.

"Um… not recently," I said.

"Helps me keep it all organized," Kelly said. "You should ask your mom for one." She held her index finger up. "And you definitely need more belts. Belts are huge right now for girls our age." She glanced up at me. "I've got one with my name in little pink jewels. It's so cute." She went back to my makeup. "But you definitely need some variety for school and stuff."

"I don't go to school dressed," I said.

"Oh…" Kelly paused for a moment. "I thought you did. Your mom mentioned you going to school with painted nails."

"Yeah… that's about it," I said. "That and panties."

"Aren't you afraid of getting caught with your pants down?" Kelly asked with a giggle. "Pardon the pun."

"Sure I worry about it," I said. "I've had a few close calls too." I stepped over to sit in my chair at my desk. "I figure if it happens, then it's one less thing to shock people if I ever come out at school."

"Sounds like you've given that a lot of thought," Kelly said.

"Off and on," I said. "I don't think about it all the time though. Most of my life is ordinary, believe it or not."

"Forgive me if I don't," Kelly said. "Found some!"

She stood and came over to me, revealing a tube of dark red lipstick. After a half hour of messing with my hair, and trying to perfect my makeup, we both thought I was ready for my debut. Kelly thought we should wait until we were called in for dinner. She claimed it would be a better entrance with everyone there ready to eat. I found it harder and harder to disagree with her logic. She actually made me feel like I could put my foot down on this whole dressing situation. I felt empowered.

We goofed around for a little bit. She prodded for information on some of my adventures, and I asked her if she had any exploits. Kelly actually had a few. She seemed to be a bit of a tease around boys at school. Several of her stories involved her feigning interest in a boy only to make him look like a fool going after her. It kind of surprised me the way she viewed boys; as some sort of necessary evil. Yet, most of her stories made me want to actually hang out with her some time.

A bit after seven at night, my mother knocked on my bedroom door. She called out the dinner warning, before going back to the kitchen. I took a few deep breaths, and worked up some nerve to step out of my room. Once I stepped into the hallway, I couldn't turn back. Kelly made sure to block that option from me. The only two options I had left, were to hide in the bathroom, or walk on into the living room. I chose the latter option; my stomach tying itself into knots.

With each step I took down the hallway, everything became louder. The game roared on the television in the living room, and the voices of my family and our company poured out of every area. Justin and Laurie were the first to see me. They both had the same expression on their face; raised eyebrows and an inquisitive who-is-this look in their eyes. I got the first verbal attention from Aunt Kimberly.

"Oh my," she said. "Bailey you look terrific."

"Wow…" Laurie said, working around her initial shock.

This caused William to step slightly out of the dining room. "Is that Zach?" he whispered to his wife.

"I told you he's going by Bailey now," she whispered back. "Isn't he adorable?"

It felt weird for a brief moment. There I was dressed like a girl, but my aunt referred to me as a boy. That was the first time I ever faced the situation, and for some reason I lost a bit of self-confidence. My aunt's husband, however, quickly restored anything I had lost. He looked me over for a moment and then smiled pleasantly.

"You look very pretty Bailey," William said.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"I knew she would," Kelly said from behind me. "As soon as I found out, I could just picture it." She stepped to the side of me and smiled. "I think she looks amazing."

"Yeah…" Laurie said, still a bit bewildered. "You do look amazing Bailey."

"Thanks," I said, now feeling the red hot torment of a blush on my cheeks.

"You look nice," Justin said, giving me a reassuring smile. "Hey mom! Bailey decided to dress up for dinner after all."

My mother stepped out of the dining room, and into the living room. She was obviously taken aback for a moment, but then she regained her composure. All of a sudden she started beaming and talking about wanting to take pictures. Everyone started to fawn over me, and after a moment we heard the back door open and close. I figured it was Tom, giving our dog the traditional special Thanksgiving meal. He always slipped a wing of the turkey out to Buckles before carving the rest of it.

"I don't know why you wanted to hide it," Aunt Kimberly said quietly to my mother. "I say just let him be who he is."

"It was mostly Tom's idea," my mother said, rolling her eyes. "He thought Bailey could use a little break to get his head clear."

"Well perhaps he was thinking clearly all along," Laurie said behind them. "He… I mean she's a natural beauty."

"Well he was always a cute kid," Aunt Kimberly said.

"You have got to come spend some time at our house," Kelly whispered in my ear. "We'd have so much fun together."

"Damn it Bailey!" Tom's voice careened through the living room like a freight train hitting a car at a crossing. "What the hell did I tell you?"

"Tom…" my mother said, gesturing at our guests.

"Did you put him up to this?" Tom asked, looking at my mother.

"I don't think anybody put him up to it," my mother said.

"You're in big trouble buddy," Tom said, staring menacingly at me. "I told you none of this until after Thanksgiving."

"What do you mean none of this?" I asked.

"If we didn't have company here…" Tom said beneath his breath.

"Tom," William said. "Really it's okay."

"Susan…" Tom looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. His face turned red with anger. "We discussed this."

"You know Tom… I'm fine with it," my mother said. "I've had it with trying to artificially steer my child in one direction or the other."

"What!?" Tom asked.

"I didn't like stopping it in the first place," my mother said. "And this is my family. As far as I'm concerned, Bailey's open to be whoever he or she wants to be around them."

Tom ran his hand over his burr haircut. He ran it quickly over the back of his head a few times, grasping his neck. It was something he did right before he lost his cool, and I knew he was a ticking time bomb at the moment. He either needed to walk away from the conversation, or we somehow needed to end it pleasantly. I didn't feel like either this time. Kelly was right. This was my life, and every bit my decision, and there was no way I wanted to cede to Tom right now.

"Bailey…" Tom said.

"This is who I am!" I said loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "I feel good like this. I felt good about it until you walked in the room. Everyone here is fine with who I am except you!" My hands dropped to my sides in balled fists. "Why can't you just accept that you can't fix me!? Find a new hobby, because you suck at this one!"

My words trailed off into an abyss of silence. A little voice in my head kept repeating "too far" to my brain. It felt like everyone but Tom and I had stepped back from the conversation. I felt like I was standing amidst the townsfolk in an old western, prepared to take on Tom in a showdown. He stared me down, anger and confusion brewing inside of him. The first movement came from my mother. She raised her hand in an attempt to start the "cooling off" process of the argument. Only it never made it to that point.

Tom slammed his fist into the wall next to him. The act made everyone in the room jump. I watched in fear as Tom withdrew his hand from the drywall. He had literally hit the wall, and his fist drove through it, leaving a rather large hole behind. His eyes glazed over, and he stared straight ahead. Without another word, he exited the living room. The slamming of the back door was the last we heard of him that night.

Blood must have rushed to my head, as I couldn't recall the next several minutes. The next thing I remembered was my cousin trying to comfort me. Her hand ran up and down my back. My mother eventually made her way over to me, and held me in her arms. I watched William, over my mother's shoulder, as he coaxed Justin into the dining room. Laurie came over to us, and dragged Kelly into the kitchen.

Tom's truck fired up in the driveway. He floored it out into the street, and his tires screeched as he took off. For a moment I thought about him getting in an accident. I regrettably and honestly thought about him dying. An accident was too good for him though. I gave up caring about what Tom meant to me that night. The whole time I thought we were working things out, he was playing a game to control what I did, when I dressed, and when I could do anything. He was a bastard.

It took awhile for my mother to calm me down. I felt horrible about all of this, like I had caused it. Aunt Kimberly had taken my cousins in to finish getting dinner set up. I sat with my mother on the couch. She held me, and we rocked methodically together as she poured on encouraging words, trying to comfort me back to reality. I felt like crying, but I didn't cry. I just didn't care enough to cry over Tom anymore.

"Let's just go have a nice meal," my mother said eventually. She moved back to hold my face in her hands. "We'll put this all behind us. Everyone's here. Dinner is done, and you look so pretty."

I forced a smile, if anything for her assurance. "I'm sorry," I said.

"No," my mother said. "Never be sorry for who you are. I love every bit of you. And there are people in the other room that care about you."

"But I ruined Thanksgiving," I said. "I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," my mother said. "We have everything we need here, and we can be thankful for that. As for Tom… well he's the one missing out."

My mother's words had just enough influence to get me into the dining room. I expected to get the sympathy act from everyone, but instead they acted like the scene hadn't happened. This actually made me feel better, as it took the focus off of me. Eventually I smiled again, and we all sat down to a pleasant meal. William showed my brother how to carve a turkey, something Tom had never done. Soon the jokes and teasing came out, and everything almost seemed normal… almost.

Tom didn't come back that night. To this day I have no idea where he went. I imagined him sitting at a truck stop diner for Thanksgiving dinner. My mother sat out on the front porch for a long time after dinner, talking with my aunt. I wanted to listen in, but I figured it would make me feel worse. Instead, I sat in my room and goofed around with Kelly. She kept insisting that I would eventually be a girl full time, dressing at school and going on dates with boys.

I wasn't exactly sure what I would be tomorrow. The events this past month, with Rajan, Kelly and the way I'd been treated at school, really made me reevaluate my condition. It made me rethink what and who I wanted to be. I thought about it until the wee hours of morning, and didn't come a step closer to the answer. Maybe I was trying too hard to pin down what I wanted so early in life. Maybe I just had to live a little before I made the hard choices. Maybe all I needed was a good night's sleep.

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To Be Continued In Seasons of Bailey: Winter...