It was a cultural tradition. A rite of passage and self-discovery. I doubt the elders who began the tradition ever imagined this.

Chapter 1

My name was Levi Miller. I was born and raised in a small Mennonite farming community in the Ohio River Valley. You may have seen me. Maybe on the back of a milk carton. Or maybe on the cover of your favorite magazine's swimsuit issue. I currently go by Alexandra Crowe. My journey from my roots to my present was unexpected. Yet in hindsight it seems inevitable.

Let's start from the beginning. Among my people we have a ritual – a rite of passage actually, called Rumspringa. It is in effect, the sewing of wild oats... where adolescents transition from the innocent curiosity of childhood into the wisdom and responsibility of adulthood. We leave our tight knit and somewhat insulated community and make our way in the secular world, taking nothing of our culture except what we carry in our hearts. It is a test. To make our way amid all the pitfalls and temptations of the secular world, and to return to the community... tempered by adversity, having seen the allure of the secular world as a seductive mirage. Ready to settle down and become the next generation of our community, no longer distracted by the siren call of the outside world. Like all tests, the outcome is not forgone. Most return, wiser and with a renewed appreciation for the community they always took for granted. Others succumb to the ways of the secular world. And some of us discover that not only is the outside world not what we expected... but we never even knew ourselves. This is a story of revelation and self discovery... and an adventure I never could have imagined.

The six of us set out together. Usually teens venture into Rumspringa in a group. It's believed to help us ground each other and keep one individual's bad decision from having catastrophic or irretrievable results. The peer pressure of a co-ed group is thought to prevent any girls-gone-wild or frat-boy type reckless excesses. At least that's the idea. I've been told in secret by others that what happens on Rumspringa stays in the outside world, and that by the time it is over, everyone in the group has so much dirt on everyone else, all agree to never speak of it again. Even those who don't return are not discussed by others in their group. It is simply known that they did not return. None of their peers is even asked, and would never dream of spilling sordid details. I do sometimes wonder how my group manages to keep my fate a secret. I wonder if Temperance or Felicity see me smiling out at them from a magazine cover and smile quietly to themselves. If not for their sense of mischief and adventure, I would probably have returned with them to live out my life as that vaguely sad little farm boy everyone remembers.

For the first hundred miles or so of our bus journey, none of us really talked. I had nothing left to say to Jakob and Seth that we hadn't argued about in all the years we grew up together. The girls kept looking over at us and giggling. They were alien creatures to us. We lived separate lives. The boys working in the fields and barns, the girls in the homes and dairy. We were kept apart by convention, then tossed all together at Rumspringa and expected to learn the ways of the world and ideally return with our mate for life. I don't know if the girls were as lost as we were. They seemed shy but excited. I got the definite impression that they were talking about us among other things. I kept seeing their furtive glances in our direction. We all wanted to break the ice, but had no idea how. Rather than do something clumsy and stupid, we did nothing. Finally, they glanced at each other, removed their kerchiefs and walked over to us. “You know everyone on the bus is staring at you.”

“What?” Suddenly Jakob, Seth and I were very self conscious. “Why? We're not the ones giggling loudly!”

“No...” Felicity chirped up. “But look around.... you're so out of place. Your clothes, your hats, and those haircuts. You are not from their world and everyone knows it.”

“Neither are you. Just uncovering your hair doesn't make you fit in any better.”

“That is why we're going to do something about it. We're getting off at the next stop. It's close to a mall. If we're going to walk among them in their world, I think we all need a makeover!” Temperance and Chastity nodded vigorously. Seth and Jakob exchanged glances.

“That's really a good idea” Seth conceded. “OK. Next stop we ditch the bus and hit the mall”. At 17, he wasn't the oldest, but even though Jakob was a few months older, we all tacitly thought of Seth as the leader.

“But what about our bus tickets?” I opined.

“We'll try to cash them in. If we can't, we'll just figure out what to do after we shop.”

“How much money do you have?” I could tell I was beginning to annoy the others. As the youngest by many years, I was used to it.

“Enough.” Jakob snapped. “At worst, we buy another ticket the rest of the way to Chicago.”

“Chicago? I thought we were going to California?” We were only a few hours from home and I was already feeling totally lost.

Seth sighed as if talking to a slow child. “Yes. California eventually. Chicago is the first leg. We explore the windy city and decide where to go next.... with California as the eventual destination.”

“But my ticket is for California. I spent most of my money on it.”

Temperance rolled her eyes. “Did you just roll out the eggchute? Just plan the next move. Plans change. We talked about this!”

“Nobody talked to ME about this!”

Seth and Jakob glanced at each other. “I thought you talked to him.” They said in unison. Then they both looked at me and shrugged.

Temperance let out an exasperated sigh. “You should have stayed on the farm. ….Alright. How much do you have left after your extravagant bus ticket?”

I reached into my bag and pulled out all the money I had saved.

“That's IT?” Seth glared. “Haven't you been saving?”

“About 3 years less than you have” Felicity wisely pointed out.

“I guess you're not buying anything at the mall.” Jakob smirked.

“That's ok.” Felicity volunteered. “He can come with us. While you boys go get all studly, we'll take him along as a sounding board for what will turn a young man's head.”

“He wouldn't know 'hot' if he were standing in a brushfire” Jakob laughed. “Good. You let 'little brother' tag along to the dress shops while Seth and I get fashionable and ply our charms on the local ladies”

The girls all began giggling derisively.

Chapter 2

I really did feel like a little brother being dragged along by good natured sisters. I sensed no resentment, but I kept getting the feeling that they were forgetting I was there. I definitely was not one of the group. Then again, I didn't expect to be.

The girls ditched their traditional gray dresses as soon as possible. The first stop was a GAP and they all changed into jeans and colorful tops. I had seen plenty of girls in pants when we'd go into town for supplies, so it was less startling for me to see them as it was for them to actually wear pants. I was amused that they were so excited to be dressed the way I'd dressed all of my life. I said nothing to them about this but couldn't help but notice that the 4 of us were now dressed very much alike.

When they passed the window at a store called “Wet Seal” they were transfixed. They eagerly scampered in and started tearing through the racks, trying on outfit after outfit, and huddling with each other after every outfit was modeled for each other. Finally, Temperance – perhaps noticing that I had been quietly tagging along – diplomatically asked my opinion. I muttered something about how they seemed so excited at the novelty of wearing silly old pants and were now eager to get back into dresses... even if these outfits had nothing in common with the dresses they were so tired of from their old lives. Felicity was saying something about the excitement of breaking old taboos and experiencing something new when a salesgirl came over and complimented everyone on their choices, finally turning to me and pouting. “What about you, dear? Don't you see anything you like? Not that your old baggy jeans aren't …sensible”. I turned beet red at her error and was about to explain her mistake when Felicity butted in. “Lee's just really shy and has no clue how pretty she really is.” Grinning at her friends she grabbed something off the rack and thrust it at me. “As you were scolding us just a moment ago, it's time to break taboos and try something new. Isn't that what our trip is all about?” I started to protest, but the three of them ganged up on me and I backed down, since my private embarrassment at being the butt of their little joke seemed less awkward than causing a scene in the store.

It was a lot tighter and smaller than I expected. By the time I got the dress on, it looked as if it had been painted on my body. The bulge was a bit disconcerting, but I quickly discovered that I could pop the bits up inside and fold the main bit back between my legs. I stood at the door to the dressing room, afraid to turn the knob, while the girls taunted me from outside. “Hurry up! What's taking so long? It's just a dress for goodness sake. What part of putting your head and arms through the holes can't you manage? Why aren't you dressed yet?”

“I'm dressed.” I muttered quietly hoping no one could hear me, while I hesitated at the doorknob.

The knob flew out of my hand as Felicity whipped the door open from the outside. I closed my eyes with dread. As if by not being able to see them, they couldn't see me. I waited for the howls of derisive laughter. But after an excruciating silence, which was probably only seconds although it felt like minutes. I slowly cracked one eyelid.

I was met by 3 gaping stares and a smiling salesclerk.

“Oh honey. You HAVE to get this. It was MADE for you!” the clerk gushed.

“I... uh. I don't think...” I struggled for some response to this unexpected reaction.

“Oh my God.” Temperance whispered, apparently to herself.

“Thanks so much for your help. Can we have a few minutes to talk?” Felicity said to the clerk, who backed off. Chastity just stared, wide-eyed.

“Wow. I certainly wasn't expecting ….THIS!” Felicity mused as she looked me up and down.

“Is this how you felt the first time you wore pants?” I peeped.

“I seriously doubt it.” Temperance said. “No one stopped in their tracks when they saw me in jeans. Just look around the store. If looks could kill, this would be a crime scene.”

“I knew this was a bad idea. I never should have agreed....”

“It's not scorn or disapproval, stupid. It's envy.” Felicity whispered. “Girls. I have an idea. You, wait here” I made my way back toward the dressing room when Felicity barked at me “NO! Stay. ...Sit.” I sheepishly sat on the tiny bench, knees clenched together and hands folded in my lap as if I could hide how short the dress was.

After a moment they returned, all serious and stared down at me. Having three sets of eyes bore into you, it's difficult to know who to raise your eyes to.

“Change of plan.” Temperance said. “We're still going shopping and the mission is still total makeover, but you're no longer an observer.”

“I'm out?”

Felicity laughed. “I'd say you couldn't be more out!” Temperance elbowed her in the rib.

“No. You're not out of the group. You're not out of the makeover mission. In fact, you're the new focus.”

Chastity spoke up. “Don't blame me. I was outvoted. I'm sorry”

“I don't have any money. I can't afford new things. Anyway, I thought you only wanted to visit hot dress shops?”

“She still doesn't get it” Temperance said to Felicity.

“Who?” I asked, looking toward Chastity, who just looked at her feet and shuffled nervously.

“You!” Felicity beamed “This is ...amazing! I never noticed when you were just the scrawny farmboy at school, but you have a fantastic body. ….for a girl.”

“But...”

“OK. It's settled. We'll all chip in, and Levi …..Lee.... is our new makeover project. Right?”

Chastity sighed. “I'm really sorry, Lee... I mean Levi. I was outvoted.”

Felicity was positively GLEEFUL. “Alright. We'll tell the guys that Levi got bored and we gave him money for a movie or something.... and while we were shopping, we met this really cool girl, and she joined us on our shopping spree.”

What was I getting myself into? I felt just like Chastity. Outvoted. It never occurred to me at the time, that if she and I both spoke up, it would have been a stalemate. Things quickly got out of hand. They bought my dress and went a little crazy with accessories, like thong underwear since the dress was so sheer and tight that anything else would show through. The clerk commented on my 'supermodel physique' which I quickly learned meant nearly flat chested (nearly?). She suggested – and the other girls enthusiastically agreed, that a push-up bra and 'chicken cutlets' - silicone wedges to prop up the real boobs, would really compliment the dress. Opaque thigh highs and some precariously tall heels finished up the ensemble. They must have noticed I was shivering like a chihuahua in the skimpy dress, because they bought me a bolero jacket to go with it. They then dragged me to this place called “The Cuttery” to do something with my shaggy hair. Dad had been too busy to do it, and after the last disaster, I reckoned it was better to let it grow and tuck it down my collar than to try cutting it myself again. I could hide it down my collar, but once I had that skimpy dress on, everyone saw just how far down my back it had grown. Temperance and Felicity huddled with the stylist, who took all instructions from the three girls who were paying him. They just kept thumbing through a photobook and giggling at me mischievously. I was so overwhelmed at this point that I just sat back and closed my eyes, sitting through the shampoo and cut, foil and highlighting, styling and drying.... waiting for it to be over. Before I even got a chance to get a look at myself in the mirror, they yanked me away to the MAC store, where again, I was merely the subject of their instructions to the makeup stylist. The only time I opened my eyes was when she was applying eyeliner. The rest of the time I closed my eyes trying to stay calm and hoping I would wake up. I don't recall ever sensing smells in dreams, so I was reminded that this was real when I was hit with a blast of flowery perfume, which they then tucked into the handbag they bought me, and we were off to Accessorease... a store which seemed to sell mostly trendy jewelry and baubles. I thought I was done when my arms were draped in bracelets, I had rings on various fingers and a choker necklace that everyone agreed, looked like it was made for the dress. My three tormentors huddled again. I could see Chastity shaking her head vigorously, so I knew something was being planned. But as before, my one defender was outvoted.

Temperance put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye with a very earnest expression. “Do you trust us?”

“Why would you ask me this. Especially after... all this?”

Felicity snorted “Of course she trusts us. ….Look what she's let us do to her.”

“I wish you'd stop calling me h....”

“OK, Then. Let's do this.” Temperance clapped her hands together decisively.

“Don't worry, Lee …..viiii...” Chastity said apologetically. “We're all doing it. And it's not as if it's permanent. …..Or ….has to be.”

“But you first” Felicity grinned.

They brought me over to a chair by the earring tree. They showed me a bunch of earrings, and discussed which best complimented my bone structure, the way the hair framed my face and the rest of my ensemble. After a talk with the salesgirl, the earrings were purchased for later and a pair of simple diamond studs was chosen. They seemed understated, which I found secretly to be a relief. I didn't know what a starter stud was. I soon found out.

It was all so fast, I didn't realize what had happened for a moment. It was sudden and unexpected as the clerk wielded the punch like a gunslinger. That's a good description since it was like a tiny tiny nailgun driving through my earlobe. I was distracted by the pain, which was brief, like a bug bite. Before I knew it I had two sparkly diamond studs in my freshly pierced ears. Temperance and Felicity, seeing how well I seemed to take it, quickly followed suit. The three of us frowned as Chastity chickened out and grabbed a pair of clip-ons. I almost quipped “What? No Tattoos?” but these girls were out of control and I really believe I would have ended up with a tramp stamp.

Our little adventure had taken most of the afternoon and we were all laden down with shopping bags. I felt like a charity case, as I had no disposable income of my own, and everything had been lavished on my by my three benefactors. Then I took a moment to think of everything they bought me, and realized ….none of this was for me. They were amusing themselves, and I was just the canvas on which they were happily painting. They promised we'd find the boys and get food after one last stop. That was when I learned what a mani-pedi was. And that varnish wasn't just for floors.

The girls had gone all out and were dressed to the nines. No one would have recognized the plain girls who looked like they wandered away from a Colonial Williamsburg exhibit as the three vixens turning heads as they walked through the mall. No. It wasn't a walk. I know because they coached me here too. I thought they were just teaching me to walk in the 5” heels, but with the pointers on posture and deportment, they were teaching me how to stride … with grace, confidence and a seemingly effortless aura of authority. When I mentioned this to Felicity, she smiled wickedly and said, “Yeah. They won't soon forget the foxy foursome.” She then stopped us in front of a tinted window and we stared at our reflection. I realized she was talking about the four of us. I couldn't recognize any of the drop-dead gorgeous visions starting back at us. We certainly did not look like a Felicity, or Temperance and certainly not Chastity. The fourth reflection I simply couldn't process. Rumspringa is a test. What is the question if this is the response? I was speechless. All I could muster, almost under my breath was “....Jesus!”

We all stared at ourselves a little too long, and the discomfort snapped us out of it. I suspect that for the others as well, it wasn't as much vanity as surprise and disbelief at the reflections staring back. We were all quiet for a moment. Felicity was the first to gather her wits. “Um.... food court?” We all quickly agreed. I suspect it was less about hunger than distraction for the torrent of conflicting emotions racing through our heads.

Chapter 3
When we got to the food court, I got a miso soup and a seaweed salad, because they seemed light and the dress was so tight I feared it would show every morsel of food going down. The other girls got more familiar food. Felicity got teriyaki chicken because it smelled good, and at least she knew what chicken was. Temperance got a cobb salad and a smoothie, and Chastity found a stand selling pot pies and had a side of mac&cheese and a big glass of milk. I think she really needed comfort food after what she was a part of that afternoon. We then noticed the boys sauntering around the food court, coolly checking everything out like they owned it and were checking on their investment. They were dressed like foreign gangsters or rappers as imagined by someone who had never seen an actual rapper. They had shiny track suits, an alarming amount of gaudy jewelry, and some intimidating footwear that looked like sneakers gone terribly wrong. They had been to a hair salon too. Their home-cut hair was replaced by something so shiny, hard and ...big... that I first thought it was some sort of plastic hat. Chastity gave them a big smile and Jakob nodded back. He nudged Seth and they strutted over like a couple of roosters. As they approached, one more touch became apparent. I first wondered if it was the lighting, but by the time they got within about 30 feet of us, it was obviously not the lighting. They had a definite orange sheen to their skin. I had never heard of spray tans, but clearly they had.

“Hell-Lo” Felicity said loudly and slowly as if speaking to a dim child ….or a foreigner... “Speak... English???” she gestured to her mouth. Temperance, Chastity and I suppressed our giggles. It was clear that they didn't recognize us and thought strangers in the food court were fawning over their studliness.

“Why of course ladies.” Seth purred. I think he was going for 'worldly' accent, but it just made him sound more foreign. “I speak like my native tongue”

“Oh?” Temperance chimed in. “Where are you from?” she guilelessly inquired, biting her lip the whole time.

“....ummmm.... somewhere else. Somewhere far from here. So far away you have never heard of. Anyway, we are here now. ….Chatting with American lovelies.....” he began coughing nervously when Jakob tag-teamed in.

“And you are?” They definitely weren't joking around. They didn't recognize us at all. We only all grew up together.

“Monique!” Temperance blurted out. “Genvieve” Felicity chimed in. We looked at Chastity who stared like a deer in headlights. I guess it was my turn. Oh, well, after everything else I'd done today, why not. “I'm Astrid!” I cheerfully chirped in what I hoped was a feminine enough lilt. Felicity & Temperance looked at each other and just managed not to burst out laughing.... which the guys completely didn't notice. “And our friend here....” Temperance volunteered waving toward Chastity “...is..”

“Chhhhhhhhhhhh” Chastity interrupted “...Chhhhhhhhh...armed to make your acquaintance.... I'm..... Mary”

“Actually, Marie.” Felicity cut in. “Marie Claire. We are down from Canada. She thinks Mary sounds more American. She wants to fit in.”

“Ah yes. Is good to fit.” Jakob agreed. “....Like regular American. ….When in ….um... America.....” This was getting painful.

“Exactly!” I cut him off. “Everyone is from somewhere else. America truly is a melting pot.” I smiled as sweetly as I could muster.

“So, what brings you lads to USA?” Temperance, it seems, was not through torturing them.

“Um.... we are here on... actually... big...big....”

“...Holiday!” Seth tagged in. I just rolled my eyes and tried not to witness what was happening. “...Is really big holiday in our country. Everyone goes away....somewhere else. We come to USA. Hot dogs. Baseball.... American Idol.... USA. We love so much”

I couldn't bear to witness any more. I wanted to sneak away but I couldn't.

“And hot American babes” Jakob growled in what I'm sure he thought was a sexy voice as he leaned in toward me. I winced.

“We're not American.” Temperance hijacked his attention. “We said we're from Canada. That's another whole country.... though some people seem to think it's just a part of America.”

“By the way” Chastity found her voice. “We never got your names.”

“Oh. Yes.... I mean no.... you didn't” Seth stammered. “I am Ssssss” Chastity was loving this payback. “....sssssven..... and this is my bro...no, what is word.... cousin...in...law.... Jjjjjjjj” Jakob squimed terrified but helpless. “....jjjjjens!” Seth beamed, pleased that he had finally managed to form a word.

“Sven and Jens?” I smirked, raising my recently threaded brow. Despite the shiny orange 'tan', Seth managed to turn gray when confronted with his inspired name choices. “I'm sure you got teased a lot as kids.” I smiled.

“Well.... not really.... it's different in our country. Um. We must go now. We must meet someone. We have friends....”

“You? …. have friends?!?” Felicity tore in. This was getting cruel. It was clear their plan to hit on girls had backfired horribly and they wanted badly to get away, I knew my friends were like dogs clenching a towel. They were having too much fun, and they were not letting go. It was going to get worse fast.

“It's been really nice to meet you both, and if you're ever in Canada, look us up” I said, extending an exquisitely manicured hand. Seth quickly grabbed it and kissed my knuckles. Staring into my eyes with what seemed like desire, awe, and profound relief at being given an escape.

“Charmed mamzell” he sputtered before he and Jakob scurried away less like roosters than like fleeing ferrets.

“Was that supposed to be French?” Temperance laughed. The absurdity of the departure distracted the girls from their thoughts of prolonged torment.

“Je ne sais pas. Peut etre c'est la langue de son pais?” I purred in my best Catherine Deneuve voice.

Suddenly six eyes bore into me. Jaws dropped, eyes stared, but no one spoke.

“..What???” I blushed. What did people think I did all those years I was sneaking to the library? Read Playboy?

“So, turns out you're not just a hot girl, you're a hot French girl?” Felicity whined. “This is so not fair. There is no way to compete with this. We have to dump her in the river.” Temperance laughed. Chastity just stared. I don't think she knew who was joking any more.

“Or you could just give me back my old clothes....”

“That's not going to happen any time soon. This is too much fun. And you're WAY too good at this!”

I knew she was going to say that. Maybe I was acquiring woman's intuition.

“I don't know how to say this.....” Chastity interrupted “so I'm just going to come out and SAY it.....”

We all stopped and looked at her. Waiting for her to continue. She just stared back at us, until I couldn't take the tension. “Say WHAT?????” I knew it was going to be about me. She was as wary of this idea as I was, but I must admit, I was beginning to relax and have fun with it.

“The boys!” She looked imploringly from one to the other of us. “We have to meet up with them later. And that means they will find out we were toying with them.”

“And they were playing us. Thinking we were strangers, hitting on us like foreign high rollers. They were just as bad as we were” Temperance reminded her.

“Only we were much better at it.” Felicity smiled with more than a little satisfaction.

“What happens on Rumspringa stays on Rumspringa” I reminded them. God, I sounded like a mom.

“Yesss mommm....” the three girls smiled. Whoa.

Jakob had the phone. We bought it for emergencies before we left. Contrary to popular belief, our community does not spurn all technology. We do have a phone. One phone. For the whole community. In a room in the elder's house. We are farmers, and accidents happen. Nowhere does the bible say “thou shalt not call 911”. So yes. Before we left, we got a phone. One phone. Which Jakob had. Fortunately in a modern American mall, it takes all of 10 minutes to get a smartphone and number. Temperance called Jakob, who seemed startled. I don't think he even knew for sure that his phone worked.

“Jakob. It's me. Temperance. At the mall. They have phones at the mall. Yes. We should all have one. We can call each other and not just phone home. For situations like this. Yes. Where are you? We'll meet you. OK. By the IMAX in 10 minutes.” I only needed to hear one side of the conversation to fill in the rest.

I confronted the other girls. “It's going to be bad enough when Seth and Jakob realize you led them on. But what about me? How do you plan to explain ME? I sure can't ….not even to myself.”

“We'll think of something” Temperance tried to reassure me. “We have 10 minutes.”

More to come in Part 2...

Part 2
Explanations, Improvisations, and Reconciliations

Chapter 4
Felicity saw Jakob leaning against a column by the IMAX theater at the mall. He and Seth were slouching casually and checking out girls in the other direction. They didn't see us.

“OK Tem, have you figured a way to explain to Jakob & Seth what we did to the 'little brother' they entrusted to our care?” It seemed that even the unflappable Felicity was getting anxious.

“I'm working on it.” She looked at me and scrunched up her face. “How would you feel about keeping this up a little longer?” She had no idea how to get me out of this. I could at least buy her some time by my continued silence. I shrugged. She smiled, relieved.

Temperance fished out her phone and called Jakob. She had me stay back while she, Felicity and Chastity walked up behind them. I could see from a distance when she tapped his shoulder from behind, and the confused and angry reaction when he and Seth realized how they had been toyed with at the food court. The anger quickly turned to embarrassment and far quicker than I'd have expected, they were all laughing about it. The conversation continued a bit longer. Chastity kept shooting furtive glances my way, so I presume Temperance was weaving whatever story she had concocted about why I wasn't with them. I was curious myself to hear what happened to Levi. I would learn soon enough. After a few serious minutes the faces lightened up, and before too long Temperance motioned my way. Jakob and Seth turned and smiled in my direction and Felicity beckoned me to join them.

Is it even possible to not walk sexy in 5” heels? I was a bit surprised at how quickly I got used to them. Then again, considering everything else I had been through, they weren't especially daunting. As the heels clicked across the slippery tile floor, I felt like I was making a slow, deliberate entrance, even though I was merely walking over to meet my friends. “Hi” I smiled sheepishly. “I'm really sorry about the foodcourt....”

“Don't worry about it.” Seth reassured me. “Our friends are full of mischief. They already lost one of our party today.”

“Oh”?

“I can't really get the whole story out of them, but obviously they broke him and he took a bus back home.”

“Home? Well, he can catch up with you later if he wants to, right?”

“No. He failed the test. So when he goes home he's back for good. Well, at least this year. He's young. I'm sure he'll get another chance in a year or two.”

“A year or two?”

“Think of it like being grounded. He failed the outside world test. But he was really young and probably not ready for the it. I'm sure he'll get another chance another year.”

“But not this year?”

“No.”

“Sorry I won't get to meet him. If he stayed with you instead of the girls, would he still be here?” I stared daggers at Temperance. What had she done?

Jakob shrugged. Seth nodded, so I turned to him. “He'd still be here....” Seth nodded. Then I began to think.

“....In a tracksuit with a spray tan?” I smiled.

Felicity actually snorked soda out her nose. Temperance and Chastity just laughed and smiled my way. I was feeling more comfortable with my choice by the minute.

Seth was eager to change the subject. “I'm Seth by the way. And that is Jakob.”
“Not Sven & Jens? Seth and Jakob. The truth just sounds different.....right. Delighted to meet you Seth and Jakob.” I overstressed their true names like an overly friendly salesperson.

“And I take it you're not Astrid?”

“Only in here” I tapped my finger to my temple. “...and in internet chat rooms” I laughed. Wait. Did I just make a cybersex joke? Where did THAT come from? ….Am I ...flirting?
“Actually, I'm Allison. Allison Crowe.” I just blurted that out. I was as surprised as anyone. It was as if I was channeling someone else who didn't have to make anything up. I just went to speak with no idea what I was about to say, and it poured out without an instant's hesitation. “...but my friends call me Ali”. ...They do? I hear the words as they leave my mouth, but even I can't tell you where they're coming from.

“Allison..... Ali.... You're right, the truth just sounds different.” Seth smiled. I glanced at the other girls who were just staring at me with disbelief.

“Temperance says you just got over a bad breakup and left your job. Did the 'retail therapy' help?” “We're all heading up to Chicago.” Jakob cut in. “Would you like to tag along?” Way to go Tem, giving me something I could riff on.

“My boss was a pig. I should sue the bastard, but he's a high roller in this city, and it would be futile to bring suit against the biggest law firm in town. And with those pics my ex posted online....”

“You let someone photograph you in ...um....” Seth seemed equally shocked and intrigued.

“Let had little to do with it. He's a voyeuristic perv. I finally found out and broke up with him. Then he showed me how ...prolific... he was. Actually, showed me and the rest of the internet.” I really have no idea where this backstory was coming from. It was like tuning a radio. It just flowed through me. But it seemed to be working, so I just went with it.

Felicity pulled me aside. “Where are you GETTING this stuff?” she whispered.

“I don't KNOW!” I whispered back.

“Well, it's working. Keep it up.”

“So. Care to accompany us to Chicago?” Seth asked.

“...Yes. I think I would, actually. There's nothing for me here. I could use a fresh start.”

Chapter 5
I had looked forward to the trip to Chicago for longer than I let myself remember. I knew it wasn't just our first trip to a really big city. I had heard talk. Whispers. No one had spoken of her aloud since she failed to return from her Rumspringa over a decade ago, but people knew I still missed her and told me rumors they heard concerning her. The rumor I fixated on was that she was living in Chicago. I knew the odds were astronomical, but I was hopeful that at least one more time in my life, I would be able to see my older sister.

Temperance and Felicity helped me track her down. Chastity definitely did not approve, since her failure to return resulted in automatic banishment and her name was never to be spoken. I tried to remind her that Rumspringa is when we bend the rules, challenge the rules, and maybe the point is that we learn to understand why the rules exist. She still didn't approve, but she grudgingly went along. Constance was in fact still living in Chicago and surprisingly easy to find. I quickly learned that women will not as a rule have a phone listed with their first name, but that it's a good chance that a public listing under a first initial is likely a woman. I didn't know if she would retain “Constance” but hoped she would keep her first initial.

I only had to call about 9 C. Millers before my luck changed. Though when a guy answered the phone I thought I struck out again. “Constance Miller please?”

“Constance?” Crap. No luck. Then muffled as he talked away from the phone, “You're full name is 'Constance'?” the guy laughed. Some heated conversation I couldn't make out.
“What is this in reference to? Who are you and where are you from?”

“I'm.... I'm from her hometown.... we grew up together and I'm here on ….break... I wanted to look her up.”

He seemed surprised. “Oh. I thought you were a telemarketer or someone calling from the bank. CONNIE! There's a woman on the phone, says you grew up together and she wants to meet.” A quick scuffling sound and I heard my sister's winded voice.

“Hello?”

“Connie?”

“Yes.”

“No. I mean 'CONN-IE?'”

“It's close. Don't judge me. Who is this?”

“you probably don't remember me, but I will never forget you.”

“Are you from the community?”

“Yes. I'm here on my rumspringa.”

“God. That would make you..... sorry, you'd have been a little girl when I knew you, and I really wouldn't remember.”

“It's Levi.”

“LEVI! Oh my God. I'm SO sorry. I thought you were a girl. You're on Rumspringa already? You don't even sound like you've hit puberty.”

“Well, it's complicated. I went with some older kids because there's really no one else my age and if I waited I'd be awkwardly old going with some younger kids. I didn't want to wait. Constance, I wanted to find you as soon as I could.”

“Of course! Look, I have to go to work, but let's meet right after I get off. Where are you staying?”

“...I don't know yet. We just got into town and are kind of improvising as we go.”

“Ah, yes. Rumspringa.” I could hear her voice soften with the memories. “There are some decent youth hostels. Not lavish, but affordable. And you'll meet some really interesting people. It's really a perfect Rumspringa experience. Another tip. Buy a phone.”

“Already have one.” I gave her the number and she said she'd call me when she got off work.

Having accomplished the top item on my list, my attention focused to issue number two. Shelter.

We all quickly agreed that our mall spree had been fun, but not too practical. So when we got to Chicago, the first thing we did was find thrift shops and dollar stores to build more practical wardrobes. Since I was stuck being Allison until I could figure a way out of it, I went with the girls. I was actually getting good at learning sizes and eyeing stuff on the rack. While my three friends tried on endless items and fussed over everything, I became a super shopper. I knew instinctively how things would drape and look as I viewed them on the hanger. As proof, everything I tried fit just as I pictured it, and once I took it off the rack, modeling it for the others to approve became a formality. I didn't pick much, but nothing I picked went back on the rack. The woman at one of these stores noticed this, complimenting my eye and giving me her card if I ever wanted a job. I was flattered but didn't think much of it. This seemed to make a real impression on the other girls though, as I was the first of their group they suddenly pictured being able to earn a living in the outside world.

The youth hostel was ...sparse. There was no privacy, so when I found myself lumped on the women's floor, I began to panic. Once I realized that women were inherently more private in toilet and shower facilities I began to relax. Those were the only areas where I would be totally exposed, and the shelter of the stalls spared me that dilemma.

I tried to “boy up” for my meeting with Constance ...Connie. Choosing a simple tee, boy jeans, canvas sneakers and a gray hoodie. I pulled my hair back ...until I saw the studs. I managed to cover my ears, but still not draw attention to the length. I deliberately mussed up my stylish feminine cut and thought I was pulling it off. When I stepped off the bus and the driver smiled “have a nice day miss” I began to think it wasn't working as well as I thought.

I met her at a Starbucks near her work. When I sat next to her and said hello, she shot me a glare and said “Sorry miss. This seat's taken. I'm waiting for someone.”

“I've been waiting for you for over 10 years” I replied.

She just stared. I could sense the wheels turning in her head, but I waited in vain for the recognition.

“Excuse me? Who ARE you?”

“Constance! It's ME!”

“Sorry. I was waiting for my little brother. Are you one of his friends?”

“Thou hast eyes and still don't see. It's ME. Levi! Has it been that long?” I gave her a tight hug as she just sat there, not returning the gesture.

“Levi?” she whispered. She still didn't seem convinced, but tried to be making an effort. “I'm so sorry. I don't ...didn't... recognize you at all. I thought you were someone else.”

“Who?”

“Well. I don't know. I.... how do I say this and not offend you.”

Here it comes. I grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye to let her know I was not going to be offended. “Just say it”

“Jesus. I thought you were a girl.”

“No offense taken. Actually, I get that a lot. But it doesn't really bother me. It's just well meaning strangers. Still... what part of this outfit says 'girl'?” I waved my hand up and down from my chucks to my ball cap. She grinned.

“None of it. But you must admit the sweeping arm is very Vanna White. I don't know. It's just... I don't know. It's not the clothes. It's just the …..presence.”

I was a little frustrated and I brushed my hair back to scratch my ear.

“Wait a minute. What is this?” Her eyes went large as she reached for the gold stud.

“OK.” I sighed. “This will take some explanation.”

Connie's reaction as I recounted my first 36 hours of Rumspringa seemed to be a mixture of amusement, amazement and disbelief. I think amusement won out.

“Wow. All we did was get drunk and sick in a park. Times sure have changed. And you're staying in a women's hostel?”

“With Temperance Felicity and Chastity”

“It had better be with Chastity if you want to stay out of real trouble.” She laughed. Then apologized for having a joke at my friend's expense.

“Oh. She's not my friend.”

“Meowwwrrr!!!” She clawed the air playfully.

“I mean, she helped the others, even though she objected. She went along with everything.”

“As did you.” She was right. I didn't know how to respond. So I changed the subject.

“Can I come stay with you?”

Her scrunched expression telegraphed her response. “That's ….tricky. You see, I have a 1 room studio and....”

“I know I talked to him on the phone. What's his name?” I smiled ruefully.

“Josh. He's a firefighter.”

I raised an eyebrow and let out a wicked smile. “Oh. A firefighter?...”

“Are you sure you're not a girl?” she laughed. “Maybe you always were one and we just never noticed” she teased.

I smiled back politely. Actually, I'd begun wondering the same thing myself.

Part 3: A day with the boys. And The art of the pickup.

Chapter 6

The girls at the hostel were actually mostly nice. I think most of the tensions came from so many varied people from so many cultures being pressed together into such small quarters. It seemed like a junior United Nations only with raging hormones, youthful recklessness and no privacy to speak of – which was the only real problem for me. At least I got a little privacy in the restroom, which was all I really needed. It really wasn't as bad as I'm making it sound, since most of the girls were eager to see the city and really only returned to change or sleep. Occasionally one adventurous girl might fail to even do that, but it didn't happen as often as you would imagine, probably because they knew the teasing they would face when they did finally drag their trampy self back to the hostel. Comparing notes with the boys, I think we had the better living arrangements, though they did mention that a lad who stayed out all night was greeted like a conquering hero. They also mentioned that boys would just stay out all night, milling around at 24-hour convenience stores or sleeping on benches just to return the next morning and be greeted like a conquering casanova. When I asked how they knew of this scheme, they turned beet red and got quite shy.

I think over the course of a few days, the other girls simply forgot that I had ever been anything but.

Except Chastity. She kept glaring at me. I finally took her aside and asked her if anything was bothering her. She got all shy and self conscious, but finally I drew it out of her.

“I knew it was wrong when we did it, but finally convinced myself there was no harm. But you're still pretending to be a girl and it doesn't even seem to be bothering you anymore.”

“It's not. I think I'm just getting used to it.”

“How? How can you just 'get used to it?' It's so wrong!”

“How is it wrong?”

“You have to ASK? There's boys and there's girls and we're just different.”

“How so?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know your mom died when you were little, but didn't your Pa ever give you 'the talk'?”

I smiled back. “I'm not planning on making babies. Or anything like that. I'm just living life. Eating, sleeping, hanging out with my friends and seeing the sights. I realized, I'm still me. Not that much is different. It's no more different than speaking old-tongue with the elders and chatting with the kids from town. It's me saying what I want to say, but the way I present it is different. Boys and girls are different, but not as different as you think.”

“You have no idea how different they are.”

“Actually, yes. I have a much better idea than you will ever have. Unless.....” I started to get a wicked idea.

Chastity raised an eyebrow when she saw the gleam in my eye. “What?”

“You said you were really sorry for your part in this.” I swept my hand up and down over my female self. Note to self: stop with the 'Vanna hand'. Chastity nodded guiltily. “Even though I finally said I was fine with it.” She made a more pained face.

“Especially then. We broke you.”

I smiled. They didn't break my spirit. They set it free. It took me a while to realize that. I knew it would take them, ….especially Chastity.... a lot longer.

“You also said you would do whatever you could to make it up to me”

She was getting nervous now. “What do you want me to do?”

I smiled and gazed into her eyes as gently and confidently as I could. “I want you so see that it's not so different.”

She seemed to struggle to grasp what I was about to ask of her. “An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth, right?” I smiled and tried to make it sound more like an invitation than a threat. “So what do you think would atone for, as you put it, 'turning me into a girl'?”

She looked really nervous. I'm not sure what was going through her mind, but whatever it was made her anxious.

“Trust me. It won't hurt a bit. You might have fun. It will definitely be an adventure. And you may just learn something.”

She didn't respond. She just stared at me blankly. I took that as a yes.

“Let's spend the day together tomorrow. Just the 2 of us. I'll show you things you never even dreamed of.”

She swallowed hard and just stared at me. I could see the anxiety in her eyes. Chasitity didn't like being out of her comfort zone. And her comfort zone was suffocatingly small.

“I know you don't like new things, but we're on Rumspringa. If you don't discover things now, when will you ever get the chance?” She didn't seem convinced. “Hey, you didn't want to try poutine. Now, do you wish we never talked you into it?” She shook her head and smiled.

“This isn't poutine.” she said in a very timid voice.

“What is?” I smiled. “No this is much less of a leap of faith.”

With that, she let out a nervous laugh, and I saw the smile return to her eyes. I was going to enjoy this. And I was sure that though she would never admit it, when all was said and done, Chastity would too.

The next day, I talked with Tem & Felicity and told them Chastity and I were spending the day together.

They glanced at each other conspiratorialy. “What's this about? We didn't even think you two got along.” Felicity said. It's true. I was much closer with Temperance and Felicity. I realized that this was just the angle I needed.

“I agree. That's why Chastity and I need to spend more time just hanging out together... the two of us.... breaking down the barriers between us.”

Temperance laughed. “Like the fact that she thinks she 'killed' Levi?”

I smiled back. “Yes. I need for her to be okay with that, and I think I've found a way. So, will you two be ok on your own for the day?”

“Oh. We'll be more than ok.” Felicity beamed. “The Italian and Portugese girls wanted us to join them at the mall to meet cute boys.... but they thought Chastity would scare them off, and..... they didn't want to compete with you.”

I laughed.

“Anyway, Tem & I wanted to go, but we could never figure out how to ditch you two without being mean.”

“So everybody wins.” I smiled. Their return grins convinced me that they agreed.

Chastity was still very nervous. But she seemed resigned to her fate. I gently smiled at her. “I know exactly how you feel. Just relax and go with it. It will be over before you know it.”

“It's still not over for you.” She looked me up and down.

“No. I meant the fear. And no... this is just for a day. I'm not going to go introducing your boy self to everyone and telling them that Chastity fled home. You will not be stuck. I promise.” She lowered her eyes in shame and guilt. I lifted her chin with my fingertips until I got eye contact. “Hey” I softly cooed like a mom trying to console a frightened child. “I didn't mean it that way. I'm actually glad looking back at it. I believe God has a plan. You were just His instruments. Heaven knows I would not have found the path on my own.” She seemed to think about this for a moment and relaxed a little.

“So you're saying today is God's plan too?”

“Nah. I'm just feeling a little devilish” I grinned. She startled, then began to smile. I think the girl was finally learning how to get a joke.

“OK. How do we start?” She was not eager, but was trying hard to be willing.

“First.” I said, clapping my hands together. “Let's go shopping.”

Shopping for boys clothes in girl mode is much less intimidating than the other way around. A lot of girls dress boyish, so there isn't really the taboo. And most girls would love to have much more control over the wardrobe of their boyfriends and other guys in their life, so any opportunity to gift a guy with a decent addition to his awful wardrobe would be seized. So when Chastity and I wandered into the young men's section, no one batted an eye. I tried to dress Chastity as androgynously as her wardrobe would allow, which wasn't very. She always chose stuff that seemed.... matronly. We grabbed a ballcap from a tourist stand and stuffed her hair up. I insisted that she not wear makeup, which was easy, since she routinely just put on moisturizer after washing with scented soap, which she still considered somewhat vain and sinful. I swapped her scented bodywash with something with a guy's fragrance and wouldn't let her moisturize.

“But my pores. They're filthy and huge.”

“Good. Helps you look more like a guy. It's just this one time. Go with it.” She was not liking this, but admitted that it got her out the door much faster.

By the time we hit the first store, I thought we had her looking pretty androgynous. I told her to let me do all the talking.

“Mom left me alone to mind my little brother for the day” I said trying to sound as girly-girl as possible. “I thought I'd take him shopping. His taste is so...euccch.”

The salesclerk smiled politely. I think she was trying to see Chastity as a boy and not quite succeeding. I stepped up my game. “Annnd.... he's always getting teased and bullied at school because he's... so....”

“I see what you're trying to say” the clerk smiled sympathetically. Got her! “You know. Some hair product and makeup, and a more feminine wardrobe, and he almost would look like a real girl.” Almost. I couldn't help smiling, thankful that Chastity was out of earshot standing with her hands in her pockets, shoulders slumped, staring at her sneakers as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She really did have the boy posture down without even trying.

We had her try on a number of items. She was not happy at the whole 'boy-for-a-day' adventure I dragged her on, but her glum attitude was perfect for a young man dragged shopping by his older sister. We finally threw together a sullen skateboarder look that shook the androgyny off. Chastity – or as I introduced her to the salesclerk Chaz, said nothing through the whole occasion. Just looking uncomfortable at the two women doting on her wardrobe. When the salesclerk bade us goodbye, she finally croaked out a very self-conscious mumbled 'bye'. Without actively trying, she was hitting all the perfect notes of a sullen pre-teen.

I dragged her out to places I thought young men might hang out. An arcade, a skatepark, batting cages, we even found a go kart place. Everywhere we went, I convinced her to mingle with the other boys. I would eventually badger her until she shuffled over, hands in pockets and lurk until someone spoke. I got as close as I could, like a mother hen, trying to eavesdrop on a playdate. They all went basically the same.

“Hey.” depressed, barely audible monotone.

“hey.” Same 'enthusiatic' reply

“Who's that?” nodding my way.

“Older sister” slightly disgusted tone

“Cool”

long awkward. silence shuffling. Everyone staring at ground. Never any eye contact.

“Jared”

“Chaz”

another 3 minutes of silence.

“You from around here?”

“Just visiting. …..For the day.”

It was so hard not to just walk over and facilitate this pained conversation by interjecting myself. But this was what Chastity needed to experience for herself.

More pained, self conscious silence. “Wanna hit a few balls or something?” FINALLY!

“...'k” Chaz finally replied and they shuffled off to the batting cages.

“They're so awkward at that age” another woman leaned in touching me on the shoulder. I hadn't noticed her behind me. I just smiled. ….“It's a wonder they'll ever get a girlfriend.”

I returned her smile.

She was Claire. She was a realtor. Her son had been badgering her to take him and his friends here until she finally relented. Her boy was 8 and full of energy and caffeinated soda.

“I kind of look forward to when he gets older and sullen. I could use the rest!” she laughed. “How about you? Do you have any children.”

I laughed at the question. “Oh, noooo. And no plans. My little brother is enough of a handful.”

“Of course you don't. Not with that figure. Hold off as long as you can dear. You're figure will never be the same.”

I smiled politely. I couldn't believe we were having this conversation. Another new and unexpected experience to add to the diary I really had to start writing. Oh. Wait. I guess I am doing that now!

Chaz and his new friend moped back our way. “So, are you having fun?” I asked cheerily.

Chaz shrugged. “I dunno. I guess” he mumbled.

Jared came up and immediately butted in “Hey, let's get some food. This place has the best chili fries!” Chaz looked at me.. I think seeking permission.

“Go. Do you have enough money?” Nod. “OK. Stay by the food shed. Don't go wandering off. ...and don't eat so much that you ruin your supper again”. I got a scowl of contempt as a reply, and it couldn't have tickled me more. Chastity was three years older than me, and I had always been the 'little kid' in the group. As a girl, I had been told by a number of people that I looked 19 or 20, but acted so maturely that they wondered if I wasn't a youthful late 20s. I was really enjoying playing the overly protective adult with Chaz, who looked like a lumpy 12 or 13 year old boy. So we didn't just swap genders, we also swapped ages. Chastity was discovering how disempowering it was to be a boy on the cusp of puberty. I hoped this daytrip over the age and gender borders that divided us would help her find some empathy and realize that a lot of the 'otherness' she felt with me and a lot of different people, might begin to fade. A girl can dream, can't she?

I chatted with the other moms and they were a hoot. Apparently they often find themselves bumping into each other carting their kids around, and they've grown into this sort of improv comedy troupe. I don't know if any of them were aware of it, but they can clearly read each other so well, it was like a tightly choreographed routine about being a working mom in the big city. I was in stitches... helped no doubt by the thermos full of wine one of the moms brought. Apparently, that was also part of this informal tradition. When I observed that they were all driving SUVs and tried to ask as diplomatically as possible if wine was such a good idea, our secret sommelier, Vanessa made a dismissive gesture and said “pffft. Gracie's driving.” One of the other moms explained that Grace was her teenaged daughter and she had her learners permit. Nessa decided that Gracie needed more time behind the wheel and she could really use a chauffer, so the current scheme was devised. Like a good chauffer, Grace waited in the car. I'm sure she did that not to be discreet, but because she's 16 years old and wants to keep as much distance as possible between herself and her mom. I glanced over at the cars and caught a glimpse of a gaunt girl with hollow eyes sitting behind the wheel staring at her phone. She reminded me of a character from “Nightmare before Christmas”, but I'm sure she was just being her. I noticed she seemed to be taking selfies. Despite the creepy gaunt demeanor, she was just an ordinary, very emo, teenaged girl.

I was having a surprisingly good time chatting with the older ladies, and they seemed to enjoy their new addition, commenting on how youthful and beautiful I was. Not coming out and asking my age, but trying to get me to slip and reveal all sorts of personal info. I was really enjoying this game of not giving out any information but seeming to be completely unguarded and forthcoming without ever actually divulging anything. All I would say about my age is, “you wouldn't believe me, so don't insist that I tell you. And you're NOT seeing my license.” ...especially since I didn't have one. It was like a verbal sport, and I was delighted to find that I seemed to be a natural at it. One of the girls just came right out and said to me, “You're wasting your talents, girl! Why don't you run for office?” to which I replied “Because they would find out I used to be a boy” - which brought on howls of laughter. I think Clarise may have peed a little because she quickly excused herself and dashed to the restroom, still doubled over in laughter.

Suddenly I was aware of Chaz lurking over my right shoulder. I got a strong sense of resentment that I was having a much more raucous time with my new friends, when the day was supposed to be about him ...I mean her... Chas.

I turned all my attention to Chaz.

“Uh. Can I talk to you? ….alone?” he mumbled.

Excusing myself, we stepped out of earshot and huddled. “What is it?”

“Um. I probably shouldn't have had that 40 ounce soda”

“Are you sick? Do you want to go home?” Where was home? The hostel? ...the farm?

“No. ….and yes”

I still wasn't sure whether we were talking about the hostel or the farm.

“Sorry. I don't understand. Explain it to me like I'm a little kid.” That drew a smile.

“I'm not sick. But I really, REALLY have to pee!”

“So?... Pee!”

“Where?” I could hear the rising panic.

“Um... we're in the big city now. They have these places called public toilets.”

“Yuh. PUBLIC toilets. What am I gonna do?”

“Well, you're over 4, so I don't think it would be appropriate for me to take you to the ladies room.” That got a glare. “Jeez. Just 'Man up' and use the mens!”

“But... it's the mens!”

“Yeah.”

“I may not know much, but I'm not stupid!!! I've seen pictures of those things on the walls., Guys stand up!”

I couldn't stifle my smile. ...'not stupid'??? “Yeah. Guys stand.” I looked her straight in the eye. “...not to do everything!” I waited for the glimmer of recognition... then embarrassment. It was a short wait.

“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“So just grab a stall and do what you need to do. ...and don't make eye contact!”

“...as if you even needed to say it.” ...there was the surly Chaz I'd come to know.

He survived his trip to the mens without apparent trauma, so I asked if he wanted to stay or move on.

“Yeah. I've pretty much done this place.”

“Yes, you have” I replied with a matronly smile. I noticed the stifled smirk.

We hit a few other places and I think Chasity was becoming more comfortable with 'Chaz-mode'. When it got to the point where I think she had forgotten all about it and was just being in the world unselfconsciously, I decided the first part of my mission was accomplished. When I suggested that it was time for Chaz to call it a day, and that the girls needed to get back to the hostel, I sensed a little relief. As we walked and took public transit back, I helped Chaz slowly become Chastity again. Sending her into another restroom to put tights on under her baggy jeans, and to swap the Vans for androgynous canvas sneakers. On the train, I had her pull out her oversize shirt which fell down nearly to her knees, then take off her jeans. No one on the train looked twice. Her hair was unfixable, so we turned the ballcap round lid-front and pulled her hair thru the back in a ponytail with a couple of scrunchies from my bag. A moist towlette and some moisturizer from my bag, and Chastity was back. Looking pretty punk and a little butch, but nearly unrecognizable from Chaz, once she lost the 'Chaz-itude'. It was kind of amazing, because the biggest difference was body language and attitude, but it was the critical component of the change and suddenly all the world saw was a tired, stocky teenaged girl.

“So how was it?”

“A little weird at first, I think. But then as I got used to it, not so weird. Kind of different, but not that different. Not as different as I thought. Then I just stopped thinking about it every moment. But when I stopped thinking about it, I'd slip and notice the looks. I don't know if people were confused or annoyed, but I'd quickly think 'what did I just do?' and try to fix it. So I had to keep thinking 'what would Chaz do?'”

"Pretty exhausting, huh?"

She grinned.

"Welcome to MY world." I smiled. "Well, at least my world up until a few days ago."

She stared at me quizically. But openly. I thought if she was ever going to 'get it' there would be no better time.

"You spent all day looking to all the world like a boy. You spent time with them. They never questioned you as one of their own..." She nodded. "...except when you 'slipped'" I smiled. She blushed. "But you knew WHY you slipped.You KNEW you were a girl pretending to be a boy." She smiled.

I held her hands gently and looked her in the eyes. "Welcome to my entire life until the day before yesterday. Only where you KNEW why you slipped, I had been told my entire life, by everyone, that I WAS a boy."

"But you ARE..." she looked at me with a sort of anguish.

"Not here." I tapped my temple. "Not here." I took her hands and placed them over my heart. "And believe me, those are MUCH bigger parts of me than...." then it was MY turn to blush.

That broke the tension. Chastity let out a relaxed, hearty laugh.

"You see? Today, you always KNEW the truth. Always knew YOURSELF. Imagine going through life thinking you actually WERE a boy."

"I wasn't very good at it" she smiled.

"Neither was I. But I never understood why." She furrowed her brow. "Not until recently anyway."

She appraised me for a while. Trying to reconcile her set notions with what I hoped was pretty compelling evidence, based on her own personal experience, that might help her to see things from a different perspective.

"But God doesn't make mistakes." She said quietly.

"I'm not challenging you on that." I replied calmly. "What if this was all part of the plan? Like making the blind see, the infirm walk?"

"You're claiming to be a miracle?"

I burst out laughing. "Heavens NO! I'm just saying, we are all just a small piece of the grand tapestry, and who are we to think we can see the big picture and are privy to the master plan? All I'm saying is try to keep an open mind..." (I again tapped my temple) "...an open heart" (I clasped her hands harder against my chest) "and don't rush to judgement.... of me, OR yourself."

I could see she was honestly trying to process what I was saying. Arguing with herself.

"But I broke Levi." she said in a small voice. As if she almost stopped believing it herself.

"No more than the earth 'breaks' the shell when the seed finally sprouts." I smiled. That might have done it. Her eyes got distant, and I knew she was lost in thought. I let her ponder things for a while, but it was getting too quiet for too long, so I tried to bring her back to earth.

"NOW do you get it?”

“Not yet. Not really. ...but I'm beginning to.” she smiled. I think I saw more unguarded warmth than I ever had. Gone was the guilt, conflict and vague disapproval in her eyes. She was beginning to make her peace with my situation. And her own part in it.

“Still, I would have peed myself before I would have gone into the boys room” she smiled, lightening the mood.

“Yeah. I was getting that feeling, which is why I knew I had to convince you fast. It all worked out fine, right?” She nodded. “Nothing scary about mens rooms right? Aside from the extra plumbing?” Another nod and smile. “Good. Now don't go making it a habit of hanging out in them!” Another smile and a big blush. Oh my God. The girl GOT a JOKE. Miracles DO happen!

Chapter 7

I think over the course of a few days, the other girls simply forgot that I had ever been anything but. We were seeing the sights, visiting a local museum, which had been my idea since I was quite short on funds. I knew libraries would often loan day-passes to patrons, so I talked my sister out of her library card and leveraged it into a day at the museum. It didn't take much arm twisting to persuade my girlfriends to make a day of it, once they talked me out of the stuffy museum I first suggested and they were able to 'talk me into' making it the art museum ….which had been my plan all along.

Temperance really seemed to enjoy the collection, Felicity enjoyed watching all the art boys, and Chastity seemed most interested in visiting the cafeteria near the gift shop. Still, everyone was having a good time in their own way.

I was gazing at a piece I knew from books, - I did mention that I was the kid who would sneak away to the library to devour books while other kids would sneak off to hang out with the locals for pick up sports, illicit cigarettes and chatting up girls? I knew I couldn't keep up in any of those pursuits and had no real desire to. Everyone won. I wasn't hanging around with them, cramping their style as they interacted with the locals, and I got to learn far more about the outside world in the library than they ever would in the parking lot of the mini-mall. At least that was the theory, but as this breathtaking piece of art reminded me, reading about something and experiencing the real thing were very different things. I was almost swooning as I squinted to examine the intricate detail of the the piece when, I heard mild muttering from behind me. I turned to see a young man struggling with an iPhone. I turned and shushhed him, he looked up and smiled sheepishly. I blushed a little, perhaps because his smile caught me by surprise and also because I remembered we were in a museum, not a library... and I just acted so bossy, as if I were a librarian or some official and not just another museumgoer. Maybe he thought I was staff as well, because he came up and handed the phone and earbuds to me, looking rather helpless and needy. I smiled up at him and examined the phone. I'm the last person anyone should expect to fix a smartphone, but I gamely examined it, noticing that he was running a self-guided tour app, and it seemed to be quite buggy. I also noticed that the tour app, as well as the other apps on his phone were in French.

“:Je suis desole, je ne sai pas quest-ce-que le problem.” I shrugged apologetically.

He lit up with joy. “Vous parlez Francais!”

“Un peu” I held up two closely spaced fingers. “Et vous. Parlez vous anglais?”

“Pas vraiment.... Where to toilet? Thank you sir. Which way is subway? Is ATM near? Helllllo Cleveland!” he smiled. I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head. I knew there was a joke in there somewhere, but I couldn't find it. “Le film?” he crouched in a pose and flung his arms out as if playing air guitar. I laughed before I could catch myself. “Ssshhhh” he put his finger to his lips looking stern, but his mischievous eyes betrayed him.

In the interest of keeping this tale from turning into a language tutorial, I'm recounting the rest of our conversation in English.

“Oh. The MOVIE....” I nodded as if I finally got the joke. I was not going to tell a total stranger that I had never been to a movie theater, though I had watched whatever DVDs I could play on the library's computers, so I wasn't completely out of touch. Still, I had no idea which movie he was referencing, and I felt some discomfort realizing that this foreign stranger knew things about my country that I didn't.

“How rude of me. You help me out and I don't even know your name. I am Luc. Luc Brossard.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance” I returned his smile “ I'm Ali”

“Allez?” He looked confused.

“No.” I laughed. “Allison. Allison Crowe. My friends just call me Ali. AA-Lee” I overenuncated as if to a child. I hoped he would not be offended but I did not want him to think my nickname was 'go'!

“Ah.” ...he got it. “Pleased to make your acquaintance Allison”

“Ali. Please” I waved my hand dismissively.

“Oh, so I am a friend already?” he smiled. “You American girls are so easy.” he winked.

I smiled back. “An American boy might try to give me his phone number, but he would never give me his actual phone.” I retorted as I playfully started to drop his phone into my bag. He just smiled, making no attempt to retrieve it. He probably had an app to track it, I mused. Giving someone what was essentially a tracking device, you could learn far more info than merely getting their phone number. I'd have to remember that.

Since his museum app wasn't working, but I had some time free, I offered to do my best to give him my own live version of the app experience. He eagerly accepted. It wasn't as bad as I expected. I had read a lot and had a bit of background on most pieces, and using the English signage as notes, I think I was able to bluff a reasonable museum tour. It was surely more interactive than the app would have been. We quickly caught up with my friends, who were taking a break in the snack bar since Temperance needed to visit the restroom, Felicity needed to get off her feet since she wore her stylish but painful shoes, and Chastity was eager to sample museum food.

When I breezed up to their table with Luc in tow, they looked daggers at me. Felicity snidely commented that OF COURSE it would be me who meets the cute guy when I was the only one who actually came to see the museum. Once they realized that he didn't speak English, their talk about him got much more candid.

“He may not speak much English, but he's not stupid. He's sure to recognize a word here and there, and even a dog intuits what you're saying by your tone of voice... AND you keep looking at him like windowshoppers when you talk about him.” I turned to Luc, and addressed him in my clumsy but adequate French.

“I apologize for my friends. It is rude to use only English and exclude you from our conversation. But they are saying many inappropriate things and you are, maybe, lucky not to have to listen to them.” He looked at me and smiled blissfully. I got the feeling that he picked up more of the conversation than I was comfortable with. After accompanying us on our museum tour, he graciously offered to take us all out for a 'proper' meal.

We were terribly underdressed for the restaurant, but Luc waved it off. “This is America. Don't be so stuffy. I have eaten here often on my visit and they never once complain about my attire.... or my generous gratuities”. I hadn't given the matter any thought, but while not at all pretentious, money seemed to be no object for him.

We enjoyed a leisurely late lunch – or was it an early dinner? – either way, we pretty much had the place to ourselves, so I felt less self conscious about my jean jacket and ballet flats. The other girls didn't seem bothered by their attire at all. They were too busy grilling Luc, which was quite awkward, as they did most of the talking and I ended up acting as interpreter. We talked for hours, but I barely got to speak at all with him myself. His father was an architect, mostly designing luxury hotels and office towers in the burgeoning Asian and Middle East markets. His mother had her own fashion design house and was reasonably well known in France among women of a certain age who did not want to concede trendsetting to the youth. His sister was a gifted surgeon and his older brother was breezing through university on a fast track to an apparent career in politics or diplomacy. He also had a twin sister who was a talented violinist and was being recruited by many orchestras across the E.U. I could only imagine what the pressure must be like coming from a family of such staggering overachievers. Suddenly, I appreciated my simple farm family more. Not that I could ever envision myself returning to that life. Luc was in Chicago looking at schools. He wanted to be a filmmaker, but was currently obsessed with still photography.

“Are you any good?” Felicity inquired. He shrugged. “I'd really like to see your work sometime”

I took the liberty of translating that as “she really wants to see your darkroom” he shot me a wicked grin, knowing that my translation was not without my own interpretation. He mentioned that he had an evening engagement, thanked us for our company and excused himself. Taking my hand and kissing it, saying in heavily accented English “Tank you for your assistance wiz ze translassion, and for your gracious company. A bientot.” As he withdrew his hand, he discreetly pressed something into my palm.

“The pleasure was mine.” I replied. “A bientot.” He shot me a sly glance, turned and walked to the lobby.

“Wow. What a hottie!” Felicity exclaimed.

“And so French. Ooh la la.” Chastity chimed in.

“And rich or something” Temperance added. Turning to me. “How do you DO it? It's just so unfair!”

“What?” I asked, trying to seem as innocent and clueless as I could.

“We're on Rumspringa, seeing the world, letting our hair down, meeting cute boys and WHO meets the first cute boy? The first cute, exotic, RICH boy? It is SO not fair! And he likes you too. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He's smitten.”

I tried to look as if I had no idea what she was talking about, but I don't think she was buying it. No one picked up on the fact that he departed with “see you soon” instead of the more conventional “until next time”

Felicity grumbled. “It's like that time Caleb Thielmann wanted to breed his purebred. He ignored three bitches and the dog kept trying to hump the breeder's leg.”

“So you're saying I'm a breeder's leg?”

“You're certainly no bitch!”

I smiled, as her anger and jealousy burst in the absurdity of her ill-conceived statement. We all exploded in laughter. Tension evaporated instantly, and we were soon walking back to our hostel arm in arm.

“Still.... it doesn't seem fair” Temperence sighed.

“Maybe one of the things we're supposed to learn on Rumspringa is that life isn't fair?” Chastity offered.

“In that case it's working, because I'm learning that lesson well” I volunteered as I thought about what was under my capris. I don't think anyone caught my veiled confession, but we were quiet for long time on the walk back.

When we got back to the hostel, I looked at the folded piece of paper Luc had slipped into my palm and I just-as-discreetly cribbed into my jacket pocket. Outsider film festival. Beaux art cinema 2000h cet nuit? Je t'adore. L.

The “L” was done in a sort of calligraphy. How long did it take him to doodle that? And when did he have a chance to scribble that note?

Oh my God. Did he ask me out on a date?

Levi would have been mortified. But Levi wasn't here. Just Ali. And she was delighted and more than a bit anxious. I found it amusing that the girls' lie back at the mall, ended up being true in a way. Levi was gone. I found myself hoping he would never return.

I found the other girls. “You know my sister lives in Chicago, right?” They nodded. “I shut my phone off at the museum. I didn't want to be THAT person”

“As if anyone would call YOU” Felicity laughed.

“Whatever.... Well, I turned it back on when we got back.” Everyone nodded. “Connie really wants to catch up....”

“With her Little Sister?” Temperance raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. She knows. She doesn't exactly disapprove, but really doesn't know what to make of it” I said – speaking for us both.

“I would love to have seen you explain THAT” said Chastity.

“No. Believe me, you wouldn't” I smiled. She thought about it and nodded solemnly.

“Anyway....” I got back on message..... “I'm going to go change. Don't wait up.” They wished me well and walked away.

None of what I said was a lie. They may have been a string of unconnected sentences that my friends would form into a statement on how I planned to spend my evening. I couldn't be responsible for other people's misinterpretations. I smiled quietly to myself at the thought.

I stopped in my tracks at the notion that the girls had been wrong. I WAS a bitch. ….and a devious one at that.

I used the wifi at the coffee shop near the hostel to get the address of the cinema and find subway directions. I had spent too much on my smartphone to afford actual data service, but it was a wonderfully useful device when it could get free wifi somewhere. I wondered what the folks at home would think if they could see me surfing the internet with my smartphone. Then I thought they might not notice the smartphone once they caught sight of my white cotton sundress, strappy 4” sandals and painted toenails.

As I approached the cinema I saw Luc standing in the small pedestrian mall out front. He was scanning the crowd, no doubt wondering whether I'd show, since he failed to put his number on the note. He was sweet, charming, and adorable. But I doubted whether he was the brightest bulb in the family tree.

As his gaze swept in my direction, I let out a big wave and he beamed as I came his way. When I got within arm's length, he reached out like a dancer and swept me into him as I spiraled into his arm sending the skirt of the sundress fanning out in the spin, planting a big kiss on my cheek. It was like a move from some stylish film, and it happened quite spontaneously, though from the looks of others on the plaza in front of the theater, I sensed they thought we were showoffs, or performers to lure people to the film festival. I was startled. I looked up at him with surprise – and a tinge of delight. He instantly got sheepish. “I'm sorry. That is how we do it back home.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and said “I see. So all I have to do is....” I stood on my toes, cradled his chin in my hands and planted a long, wet kiss. Then broke off, looking all innocent and perplexed, batting my eyelashes and said in English with a heavy french accent “....oh. I'm sorry! That is simply how we do it in my country,”

He looked down smiling, and put his finger to my nose. “I kissed you on the CHEEK.”

I pouted.

“THAT is how we do it in my country.”

I lowered my eyes in mock shame. He pulled me to his side and started walking to the theater entrance.

“....But I like your way better.” he smiled as he squeezed my waist. A small voice in my head was screaming at me 'what do you think you're doing????'

It wasn't as romantic as you may be thinking. I can't speak for Luc, but it actually wasn't as romantic as I expected. Still, it was the best night of my life up to that point. Remember, I had never even been in a movie theater. Everything was a discovery. The concession. The velvet drapes over the screen, the plush chairs with holders in the arm for beverages. I might have at least been used to those if I spent any time riding in cars. Everything was a revelation to me. I adored my evening at the movie. We watched a number of experimental films by artists and other 'outsiders'. I read everything I could get my hands on as a kid, and that night, I realized more clearly than ever how much I didn't know. One thing I did know... I was starving to learn more. And I also knew with absolute certainty, that I was not coming back from Rumspringa.

We had a romantic walk and talked a bit. Luc asked about me, and I told him what I could without lying. Again I layered truths with significant gaps so that I didn't have to lie, yet could make it seem like I was telling him about myself, although in a way to let him fill in those gaps with misconceptions. I told him of our small community and how we were separate from the outside world in so many ways, how the boys and girls worked in different areas and never comingled unless they were coming home to their family. I explained how Rumspringa was a rite of passage into adulthood and tacitly into marriage and family life. He seemed fascinated. I told him how years of ….not repression.. ..more like ignorance.. of the ways of the outside world were part of the shock and trial that was Rumspringa. Learning about and experiencing the ways of the outside world. Risking going overboard but hopefully pulling back before anything was done that could not be undone. Putting the lessons of morality, propriety and resistance of temptation to a real life test. He listened attentively and seemed captivated and intrigued. After I ran out of things to say, he kneaded his chin and regarded me so long and hard that I became uncomfortable and really self conscious.

“Will you go back? Could you go back?”

“After what I have already experienced in the outside world...... and knowing that I have only scratched the surface..... No. I don't think I could.” I hadn't even admitted that to myself until this moment.

"What will you do?” Luc asked.

“....I have no idea.....” I said to myself as much as to him.

We had a very pleasant evening. Nothing got out of control, or even too heated. Luc was charming, and I suspected, maybe a bit of a romantic. Or maybe that's 'just how they do it' in his country. I smiled at the thought.

He walked me back to the hostel and left me with a long, languid kiss on the steps. I had to take a moment and collect my wits before breezing in. I hoped no one saw us outside.

Apparently no one had, since Chastity & Temperance greeted me disinterestedly as I walked into the common area. Tem was helping Chastity highlight her tips, and Felicity was lost in a gossip magazine.

“How is Constance?” Chastity asked politely.

“Oh. You know. I really have missed her.” I replied distractedly. “I'm exhausted. I'll see you in the morning” I said walking to my cot.

“Sweet dreams” Chastity chirped.

“Yeah. Of your Frenchman.” Tem hooted. I smiled. I choose to blame her for putting the idea in my head.

I don't ever recall having a sex dream before. In fact, I almost never remember my dreams at all. This one I will never forget. Luc was exploring every inch of my body. He nibbled my earlobes and worked his way down the nape of my neck. I could feel his hot breath as his tongue flicked the erect nipples of my swollen breasts. His strong hands reached down to brush my inner thighs, then slid up to my lower back as he pressed himself into me and I began to wrap my legs around his waist.....

I awoke with a start. The sheets were soaked. For a moment I thought I had wet the bed. Then I realized I was drenched in sweat , breathing rapidly and my heart was racing. I reached down between my legs, surprised to find that everything was still there, still tucked away, and not in any way I could determine, physically aroused. Still, the whole area was moist and slippery with sweat. What the hell was happening to me?

I got up and washed myself up quietly. I don't think I disturbed anyone else. I thought, maybe this happens to others occasionally too, and the rest of us just sleep through it. I lay awake the rest of the night, hoping I didn't talk in my sleep.

Luc and I had exchanged numbers over drinks and snacks after the film festival. He asked how I would feel about being photographed. I told him I hadn't really given it any thought, and wondered why he wanted me as a subject. He explained he thought it would be an interesting photo essay to do a piece on a small town girl from essentially the 18th century suddenly thrust into the life of a modern American woman. I expressed surprise that no one had done this before. He speculated that even if it had been done, it was unlikely that it had been done by another cultural outsider – a photojournalist from another country. I think he was beginning to imagine himself as a 21st century DeTocqville. I agreed to do it without much enthusiasm. I didn't feel any misgivings about being the subject of his photo essay, once he agreed to keep my identity and past totally vague. He could show other communities similar to mine and explore our ways, but he couldn't talk about my life, my town or anything specific to my past before Rumspringa. I would be a symbol... an icon. I also counted on the fact that he really wouldn't cover anything specific about me before my arrival in Chicago – as Allison.

The next 10 days were exciting and fun. He was shooting stills and video, occasionally interviewing me – in French – about my experiences with the outside world. I explained to him that I really hadn't experienced much of it. We decided in a meeting. Actually HE decided, since he was going to pay for it – that I needed to experience more of America.

He had finished looking at schools and was planning to return home for no particular reason. Suddenly his 'Girl meets World' project gave him a reason to stay the summer.

I saw little of my friends, as we'd disappear for days at a time. I think they thought that he was trying to seduce me, or vice versa. Either way, they were convinced that it was going to end badly.

Actually, Luc was in love with his art, and while he did make love to me in his own way, it was always through the camera. I had a hard time recognizing the beautiful images he captured with the soul looking out at the world through these two eyes. He was amused that when I commented on the photos and videos, I always referred to the subject in the third person. Always 'she'. Never 'me'.

Luc was a true artist. And a true romantic. We flew to South Beach and he got my reaction to the opulence and decadence of south Florida. And my first experience with the ocean. I always thought I'd dip my toes into the sea someday. I never imagined that they would be brightly painted toes, complimenting my string bikini.... or that I would have my own personal paparazzo documenting my wonder and delight in such excruciating detail.

We drove to the Keys, and I got to explore the languid decadence of that unique artist and outsider enclave. Luc had a thing for outsiders. I eventually picked up on that. I wondered if he felt like an outsider himself, being the bohemian slacker in a family filled with overachievers.. I wondered if he had any idea how much of an outsider I actually was.

He was a charming and romantic companion. I think he was more in love with the idea of romance than he was with me. I was just his dance partner. We could anticipate each others every move, and we made quite the symbiotic pair. But like ideal dance partners, always, the music stopped and we went to our separate rooms. Often, I felt as if he could see into my soul. I wondered how he seemed to know that things could only go so far, and while he would eagerly take it to that point, he would never cross that line and require 'the talk'. I was torn between relief that it went as far as it could and no farther and guilt that I was unable to take it beyond. Still, it was like a romance. A 'G' rated Disney romance. All roses and butterflies and no soiled sheets and trips to the family planning aisle. I became used to the experience Bruce Springsteen immortalized, waking up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head. I wondered if Luc did too.

I tried to stay in touch with my friends. I'd send postcards to their last known address. Sometimes asking Luc to print up a picture from his project as a postcard I could mail. Like me sitting in Ernest Hemingway's lap, seeming to lift my sundress in a way to flash the old statue in a devilishly inappropriate way.

It would take weeks, but eventually I'd get a txt reading “BITCH! ;-D Girl, you are SO over your head. GET OUT!” and their new address. They were in St Louis for a while, and Santa Fe, and finally San Diego. Meanwhile we took a “puddle jumper” to New Orleans, tore up the French quarter, meandered over to Austin, and eventually ended up in Nevada. More specifically, Las Vegas.

I finally felt that my world-weary companion was experiencing the same culture shock I was. There are really no words for Las Vegas. I've heard other women describe childbirth this way, and it may be sacrilege, but I'll risk it. If you have never experienced Vegas first hand, you really can't grasp what it's like. It's human aspiration – and shortcoming – writ large. It's over the top opulence and gaudiness, living right up the street from bleak despair. Shrines to The High Roller obscuring the trailer parks and encampments of those who were unable to escape the gravity well of the broken dream. We met some lovely people there. Many worked at the B & C list establishments and were philosophical about their role in the scheme of things. Luc somehow managed to get us backstage to talk with showgirls about their 'glamorous' life. I was able to talk myself out of an offer to suit up and join the girls in a review that was actually early on a Wednesday and only had a smattering of seniors in the seats. I knew Luc would edit it so it seemed that I joined them on the busiest show of the week, but that was not the image I wanted to present. No 'Good Girl turns Show Girl' footage. He was good natured about it and didn't press the matter. He did say that he thought it would make his piece more commercially attractive, but agreed that it was salacious and misleading. So when the manager of the legalized bordello offered me a job, I knew Luc put him up to it as a prank. I went so far as to 'audition' with a giant rubber toy to call Luc's bluff. It worked. I'm not sure if he was rattled or aroused. He kept looking at me curiously.

“You know I want that memory card.” I held out my hand.

Luc frowned. “I have other stuff on there too.”

“And I won't delete any of that. But no one else will ever see THAT.”

He pouted.

“Ask me again under the right circumstance and you might just get an encore.... but for now...” I snapped my fingers and he contritely handed over the memory card.

What exactly was I obliquely promising? I wondered. Often I even surprise myself. Levi never surprised anyone.

We hit LA with a vengeance. Luc wanted to get the farmgirl who grew up with horses driving around the endless freeways in a sexy convertible. I told him I didn't drive. He seemed unfazed.

“I can teach you. It's not rocket science.”

“I don't have a license” I reminded him.

“Then you will need to be extra careful." he smiled. "This is an expensive rental.”

I actually enjoyed learning to drive. Luc was right. I took to it like a duck to water. I wanted a license. But that would be a problem. Not because I was in the databanks as Levi. More because I wasn't in the databanks at all. In some ways our little semi isolated community may have well been a different country. ...or planet. Those who left for the 'outside' or were banished needed to get someone on the inside to smuggle records... usually a page from a family bible or a photo of one... with birth info, to a sympathetic bureaucrat on the outside, often another former member of the community, for entry into the system as a routine birth certificate from any hospital. It was a bit outside the rules, but no one considered it sinister, so it could be done on those rare occasions it was needed.

In some ways that made things easier, because I could easily have a family bible entry that said “Allison Crowe”, with my chosen gender and a birthdate of my choosing.... I would keep the date, but tweak the year. Not very ladylike to INcrease the age, but it would make things much easier in so many ways, since there are so many things people under 18 are not allowed to do, yet I know I would handle responsibly. The real trick was to find someone on the inside who could smuggle documents out. I hoped Tem or Felicity would return from Rumspringa. Chastity was a sweet girl and a gentle spirit, but I did not think she would help me since she still seemed to feel guilty over her part in 'killing' Levi.

The sportscar shoot seemed to go well. I didn't damage the car, and I like to think I drove at least as well as many of the other drivers on the road. I was really getting addicted to the feel of 400 horses under my toes.

Luc met me for breakfast the next morning.

“What's next boss?” I cheerfully inquired.

“How would you like to be in the movies?” He smiled at me.

I was speechless. I had only seen my first film in a theater less than a month ago, and now he was asking me if I wanted to BE on that big screen?

“I take it that is a yes.”

I nodded, wide eyed.

It wasn't exactly as I imagined it. We were extras. A 'crowd for hire' to add realism to some Hollywood megahit.

“S'not like the old days” an old timer turned to me. “Used to be, if you needed to fill the coliseum or field a barbarian horde, you'd need the whole deal. Now they just take a few dozen people and CGI them into a massive throng, varying things with statistical algorithims.” I nodded sympathetically. I grew up without electricity or indoor plumbing, but I followed everything he said. I had come a long way in a very short while. And that wasn't even counting the gender transformation.

The casting assistant milled through the crowd pointing at people like some sort of reverse grim reaper. Those she touched beamed with joy. The moment was theirs. My new companion got the pick. I smiled in shared satisfaction, even though the fickle finger passed me by.

The crowd broke up. I milled around looking for Luc. I assume he was off getting B roll. Probably interviewing the filmmakers, insinuating himself as one of the people hired by the studio to shoot DVD extras. I wondered if the only reason he got me this gig was so that he could tag along with me and get onto the set. I didn't mind either way. If not for him I wouldn't be having this wonderful experience.

I roamed over to the commissary and had a salad. I marveled that I was sitting two tables from 'America's favorite Dad' and a table full of zombies. ...And I thought Vegas was surreal! It's probably the best that they keep us so in the dark, I mused. We would never leave for Rumspringa if we had any clue what the world was capable of. I couldn't suppress my grin.

I ambled back toward the set hoping to find Luc. My “Visitor/Extra” sticker must have fallen off my top. No surprise. It was quite lacy and there wasn't much for the pass to stick to. Luc thought it looked sexy and would increase the odds of my being picked for an extra. Fail buzzer.

I noticed there was a small crowd gathered outside the building where the extras gathered before. I presumed this was a new crew for a new shoot, but I didn't know where else to wait fot Luc. He had dropped me off here, I would wait for him here.

While I sat waiting, trying to find open wifi on my smartphone, a woman approached me.

“Would you be a dear and inform Linda that Sue had to bail. Christ, I think I must have that norovirus or something. Tell her I'm SO sorry and I owe her big”

None of that made any sense to me, but she seemed deeply distressed, so I just nodded reassuringly and she walked away looking relieved.

I sat for a half hour waiting for Luc. The door opened and a woman with a clipboard shouted to the crowd “Sue?” four women stood up, looking at each other.

“Sue McMillan” she clarified. Everyone sat down. I looked around. The woman looked perplexed. I held up my hand. She turned to me. What the hell.... was I in school? Why was my hand in the air. I walked up to the woman. “Sue was taken ill. She asked me to...”

“Ok” the woman smiled. “Wardrobe is over there” she pointed as she ushered me into the building.

I had given up wondering what would happen next. Rumspringa was notorious for the unexpected. I had long ago prepared myself to just go with it, confident that God had a plan. Many unimaginable things had happened, but they all turned out well. More than well. I was more alive than I had ever been. I would take a deep breath and surrender myself to destiny.

Another woman with a clipboard looked at me. “Where's Sue?”

“She took sick. Violently. She asked me....”

“You are?”

“Ali. ….Allison Crowe”

“Crow?” she scribbled in her clipboard

“With an 'e'” she scribbled a bit more.

“SAG card?”

I just looked at her quizically.

She scowled. “Oh shit. She's got to stop doing this Jerry!” she shouted to the man across the stage.

She walked to him and they had a heated conversation. He kept glancing at me. He put his arms on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. Eventually she calmed down and he let go. She came walking back to me.

“Look, I'm sorry if I.... Sue asked me to..”

“It's not you” she shrugged “I'm Carmen, by the way. It's just that she's been doing this a lot lately. She's been an a-list player for years, but lately she's been unreliable..... though she always sends a-list subs.... even if they're undocumented....” she shot me a dirty look, then a guilty shrug “...look, I know it's not you. It's a good break, and she's a great judge of talent. It's just such a fucking paperwork nightmare!” She looked at me as if realizing that I wasn't the cause of her frustration, and realizing that venting her frustration wasn't fair to me. “Fill out these forms and we'll get shit sorted. Wardrobe's over there. Were you briefed on the trick?”

I stared at her blankly.

“Of course you weren't” she rolled her eyes. “Still, Sue wouldn't have sent you if she didn't think you were up for it. You'll be fine.” She pointed to another group about 60 feet away. “Go suit up and study the stunt”.

I kind of amazed myself at my willingness to unquestioningly do as I was told. Some part of me was watching this as if passively witnessing an unfolding story. Part of me was quaking in my boots.

Speaking of boots.... the wardrobe department, which is where Carmen directed me, eyed me skeptically as I approached.

“Where's Sue?” The chubby blonde asked. I shrugged.

The tall brunette eyed me up and down. “You have to give THAT to Sue. She knows how to pick a doppelganger.” They sat me down and stripped me down to my underwear, going over me with a measuring tape, just to confirm what they had judged with their eyes.

“She's a bit small around the bust” the first one said.

“What bust?” I smiled at her.

“I was trying to be diplomatic” she smiled back.

Number two returned with more 'chicken cutlets'. No. They were more than that. They were actual, silicone breasts!

The blonde then took something off a nearby rack and handed it to me.

It was a leather catsuit and a pair of alarmingly sexy boots.

As Andi, the tall dark haired one, was gluing 'my boobs' on, Cathy the wardrobe assistant explained that it was actually pleather with a kevlar mesh lining. It was much stretchier than real leather, but the kevlar gave it almost as much protection as real leather.

“Protection against what?” I asked innocently.

“I thought you folks didn't talk about those sorts of things?” Andi joked. I smiled nervously wondering what I had gotten myself into.

The 'trick' as it turned out was a stunt for a deodorant commercial. The heroine, in her sexy leather catsuit with trim in the company colors, rides her matching motorcycle away from a baddie in a helicopter. He swoops down to finish her off, she pulls out a whip, Indiana Jones-like, uses it to snare his hand and pull him from the helicopter. As it careens away, she turns back to see ominous black muscle cars closing in on her, she then looks ahead to see a line of cars stopped for a passing freight train. With no hesitation, she guns the throttle, riding up the conveniently sloped back of the last car in line and jumps the train, safely screeching to a stop on the other side. Flipping up her helmet to reveal the actual spokesmodel, Janine, who from her now idling bike whips out her can of deodorant, looks straight into the camera and says “Panache. Cool under pressure.”

The helicopter part was easy since that was 'wire work'. The bike and I were on a flatbed and the bottom of the copter was suspended from the side. The crew drove beside us, everything happened at about 20 miles an hour but I knew they'd make it look much faster. I pulled Mike, 'the bad guy' from the copter out for six takes. He hit the mattress on the flatbed every time. I was then given my real bike, a Ducati concept bike that looked like something from the 22nd century. I asked if I could take it around a bit and get used to it. They were more than happy to give me some time to practice. Maybe I would have got more time if I told them that I had never ridden a motorcycle before, let alone an experimental prototype ...and over a moving train. I was no way near as scared as I should have been. In hindsight, I don't think it would be possible to be scared enough. We did some static shots first, me riding the bike at top speed really close past the camera. I don't think the camera crew was expecting me to buzz them THAT close. When I swung back, they looked a little annoyed, but when I did it exactly the same way on a few more takes, they seemed to realize that I was really in control and appeared to be enjoying the wake as I buzzed past them about 18 inches away. We got all the coverage, now it was time for the big trick. If anything happened to the bike – or its rider – they had already got all the other footage. And Janine had shot her tagline earlier when the bike was shiny clean. John, the D.P. gave everyone the talk, doublechecked that all the cameras were set, and admonished us that he didn't want to do this too many times, as it was very complicated and a lot could go wrong. No one needed to tell me that. Cal, the stage manager marked off a spot on the road with gaffer's tape. “What do you think? About here?” I looked up and down the road, furrowing my brow and trying to look like I was doing the math in my head.

“Sure. Looks good” I had no idea if this was far enough back, but I hoped he did.

Jerry called “action” and I punched it. The car at the end had a small fiberglass ramp about 3 feet wide running up its back, but the cameras were positioned where it wouldn't be visible. I was doing 112 when I hit the end of the ramp, and I knew immediately I was way too slow to get enough lift to clear the train. But the train I was supposed to go over was a boxcar with opened doors. I guess some thought it was more visual. I thought I might make the doors, but worried that I was too high. I crouched down so hard that I became one with the paintjob. It was a milisecond, and I realized I wasn't dead. But I instantly realized I could still be in a world of hurt if I didn't nail the landing. No way I was going to make the ramp on the other side. That was supposed to break my landing when I jumped OVER the train. Now I had to make sure I didn't fly right onto the front of it. I leaned hard to the right and just missed sideswiping the scaffolding. I was heading right for the camera crew. They looked startled and alarmed, but they were pros... they stood their ground. I spun around in a 180, giving the throttle a kick so I could burn off some momentum like airbrakes on a jet. I sprayed dust and grit on the camera crew and heard them yell, but it worked and I managed to stop the bike before hurtling into them.

“What the hell happened?!!!” Jerry bellowed as he came over.

I took off my helmet and smiled. It may have looked like confidence, but I was just giddy to still be alive and in one piece. “I couldn't get enough speed. I miscalculated the runup.” I saw Cal looking sheepish, but relieved that I was taking the blame. “I knew I couldn't clear the top of the train, so I improvised.” I shrugged. Jerry just glared at me and walked over to see the playback. I joined him and apologised to the crew for spraying them. As they watched the playback and saw what they captured, I think their resentment evaporated and they forgave me.

“Hah!” some guy in the group watching the playback stood up and stuck his finger in Jerry's face. “That's the way we storyboarded it in the first place and YOU said it couldn't be done!” he then walked my way while fishing for his cellphone “Nice job, little lady” he said.

I was in the middle of replying “we aim to please” when he slapped me on the ass as he walked by. I spun around to show him what I was aiming for now, when I noticed he was already oblivious, lost in his cellphone conversation.

“Agency” Jerry shrugged. I smiled, knowing that what he really meant was “middle management tool”

“So...” he spun me around and put his hands on my shoulders. “Ready to set up and go again?”

I looked at him in disbelief. After what I'd just gone through, I became convinced that God wasn't through with me yet. But I was not going to ask for a second take on a miracle.

“I don't think I could ever do that again.”

“Yeah...” he smiled sadly. “But as a pretty girl, you KNOW, a guy's gotta ask....”

I laughed and any tension was broken.

“Anyway. What we got was good. Even better than what we hoped for.” You're done for the day. It was a real pleasure to work with you and I hope I get to do it again soon. He shook my hand.

I smiled and I think I may have blushed a little.

“But next time we have to get you out of a helmet. That smile is a special effect of its own.”

This time I blushed a lot.

I headed back to the wardrobe table, but the girls weren't there. A P.A. Said they went to craft services. She said no one expected us to wrap this early.

I remembered that I totally forgot about Luc. I went to my bag and checked my phone. There were 8 increasingly alarming texts. I texted him back “something unexpected came up. Meet up where we left in 5. <3 A.“ I told the PA I'd be back and grabbed the helmet as I walked toward the door to the parking lot. Luc was standing near the entrance, looking around, scanning the crowd. While I think he was looking for me, he was also hungrily taking in everything. He was studying to be a filmmaker. I'm guessing for him this is like a kid's first trip to Disney World. He looked overwhelmed by it all, so the hot biker chick in the leather catsuit was just one more over-the-top sight. Until she strutted right up to him.

The heels made me tall enough to look him straight in the eye, maybe I was even half an inch taller. I walked right up to him, put my right hand to the small of his back and pushed him up to me, while flipping up the visor with my left hand. “So. How was YOUR day, dear?” I purred.

The expression on his face is etched in my mind. I see it every time I close my eyes and it never fails to make me smile.

I insisted that Luc get some stills and videos of me vamping in the suit, tossing my hair and looking all badass holding my helmet. I hoped he would be able to get permission to use the ad in his finished piece, and if he did, we would need some evidence that it really was me in the suit under that helmet. I wished I could pose by the bike, but I knew that was pushing it. I'm not even sure Luc believed me, so I had him join me as I went back to the wardrobe table where Cathy and Anita were ready to disassemble me and help me get back into my ordinary human clothes. As I got dressed again, I turned my back as I peeled off the catsuit and slipped on my top. Maybe they thought I was modest, but I was really hoping that they wouldn't remember the amazing silicone breasts they equipped me with. I got my top on, though it was really snug with the boobs sticking out like Lara Croft, so I threw on my hoodie pretending I was cold and left it unzipped but draped over my breasts. Either they didn't notice or they decided to give the flat girl a break, because no one said anything. We were talking about the shoot. I asked if they saw it and they said no. They were inside pulling wardrobe for another upcoming shoot. They said they would ask some of the crew to show them playback later since so many people were buzzing about it. I took the liberty of walking Luc out to the back lot where they were striking the gear. I asked one of the assistants if my boyfriend could see the playback from the shoot, and he brought us over to a table where Luc could watch the raw footage. This was really the best, because on the 6 windows with the different camera views you could see me at the starting mark as I put my helmet on, so he really knew it was me. He asked to see it 4 or 5 times until he noticed they were getting irritated. Then he just stared at me. I shrugged like 'yeah. That all went just the way I planned it.' I was glad they stopped the cameras before I took the helmet off after the stunt, and there is no recording of my face as I was trying to understand why I wasn't decapitated by the train, splattered like a bug at the base of the ramp or smeared all over the pavement. I just smiled blissfully at his slackjawed face and said “Thanks for taking me to be in the movies. This was a great idea. It was fun.”

“Who ARE you???” I thought he was joking around, but I began to wonder if he was just a little bit serious.

“You know me better than anyone. The real me.” Despite what he didn't know, he really did know more of the real me than anyone else. “Oh, by the way....” I said turning to look at the Ducati as they loaded it into a trailer “would you drive home? ...I am so over cars.” he pinched my waist and I squealed with surprise and mock pain. I returned the pinch and broke away, racing him to our parked rental car. It was a good day.

Summer was winding down and so was our Rumspringa. Soon we'd be heading home to help with the harvest, choose a spouse and take our new roles as adults in the community. Or not. Our original group stuck together all summer long – except me. As far as the boys knew, they lost Levi on the second day, so they never noticed they weren't one indivisible group being tested in the impious outside world. The girls knew different, but I think they were relieved. “Alison” was not part of their original group and explaining her continued presence to the boys would have proved increasingly awkward. My running off with Luc actually made their life much easier. Since we were all in California, we arranged to 'bump into each other' in San Francisco, The boys would get to meet Luc, - who I did inform that they didn't know I was 'like them' and it would only confuse them and complicate things if they found out. Again, the words I used explaining the situation to him were all 100% true – yet I know he took them to mean something completely different, but much more plausible. He agreed to keep my secret. Temperance, Chastity and Felicty would join me for a 'girls day out' where I would explain what I intended to do as Rumspringa ended. I think we all – well everyone but Chastity – knew what was going to happen, but the exact details would be a mystery.

Luc and I flew in a few days before the others, who were driving up the coast. I discovered that they had actually managed to sneak off and get licenses in March in preparation for their wild Rumspringa adventure. From how long it took them to arrive, I thought they were sightseeing. I later found out that the two boys insisted on doing all the driving but they both drove so slowly that they kept getting pulled over by police who noticed that they weren't elderly and so presumed the only other reason for their behavior was that they must be high. I found this quite amusing, and learned later that the girls did too...at first. After the fourth time, it stopped being funny. Much to the boy's annoyance Tem & Felicity would wait for the officer to come to the window and shout from the back seat “We're not high. We're Amish.” This wasn't technically true, but people knew Amish and no one knew our community. It was a close enough shorthand that it usually worked, The boys would get a stern lecture about not being a traffic hazard and be sent on their way. It took them 4 days to drive up from San Diego, so we explored the wine country. Luc loved it, and I think it made him a bit homesick. He hadn't talked of France at all until we got to Sonoma, but suddenly everything reminded him of a story, and he opened up to me. I learned more about him in those four days than I did in the previous 6 weeks... and it only made me want him more. I think he thought the same, because he talked about kids, and how big a family he'd like... the life he'd like to build once he finished school and settled down. He never mentioned me, but the fact that he shared all these intimate thoughts and plans with me, I never thought for a moment that this conversation was intended for anyone else. We were falling for each other hard, and that made me profoundly happy and deeply troubled. I knew there would be a reckoning, but hoped it wouldn't be for a while, because at the moment I had no idea what to do about it.

We met up with the group in San Francisco. The boys never questioned that it was pure coincidence, and I had to push it by joking that I wanted to name my first born “Serendipity”. This brought subtle glares from the girls, who I could tell were not happy with how comfortable I had become with myself. Temperance whispered in my ear “'Hubris' would be more like it.” I smiled and replied that it sounded appropriately French and that Luc probably wouldn't object. That only made her more upset.

“You are flirting with disaster! There is no way this can end well. And you are already in so deep. What is your plan?”

“I don't have one” This did not calm her. “But I have faith that God does.”

“Yes. It's called vengeance. You will reap what you have sewn.”

“I'm hopeful. I anguished over this. I did not plan this. I never had the imagination to conceive of any of this. I took it to be God's plan for me. And I've done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Except pretending to be someone you're not”

I looked at her. “And whose idea was that, originally?” She cast her eyes down, ashamed. I lifted her chin to look her in the eyes as compassionately as I could. “Hey. I'm not blaming you. In fact, I think I'm thanking you. I believe we were both part of something much bigger than us. We both did what we were supposed to and it led us here. I'm happy. For the first time in my life, I realize. I had never been happy in my old life, but you don't know what you don't know. I never knew it until this new life, when I experienced happiness for the first time. I believe with every fiber of my being that this is my destiny and always has been. I have no idea where it will lead, but I believe God has a plan and I just need to trust in it. I will always be grateful to you, Felicity ...and even Chastity. You gave me my life, and I can't express my gratitude.”

I'm not sure she was ok with my path or her role in it, but my words did touch her. We locked in a tight, blubbering hug.

As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she smiled shyly at me “So I guess I won't ask if you've bought your bus ticket home?”

I smiled back. “I was thinking of moving in with my sister until I get settled. She won't be happy about it, but she won't turn me away. Luc starts school in the fall, and I can get a job – and a GED.... if someone can get me some paperwork.” I smiled back.

“I'm sure that can be arranged. Allison Crowe, huh? Female?”

“And 18 while you're at it.”

“What's one more lie?” she smiled.

“18 will make things much less complicated”

“And the last thing you want in your life is any ..complication!” she laughed.

I knew we were out of dangerous emotional territory, and even if she wasn't happy about it, Temperance was making her peace with my decision – and her role in it. We were good, the two of us.

The boys really wanted to explore bawdy San Francisco, I think partly out of boisterous boyishness but also because it made Chastity so uncomfortable and they found that an endless source of delight. The seven of us wandered around the Castro, with the boys wide eyed and slackjawed. Luc was amused. Photographing the gawking tourists and the unfazed locals. We ended up in a gay club watching a drag show. I must admit this was the first time I was self conscious.

“I can't believe they're not real girls!” Seth shouted over the throbbing music.

“They are kind of … more girl than girls. Yes?” Luc replied.

Just then this spectacular drag queen in a glamorous evening dress ran an opera gloved hand up Luc's cheek and said “Why don't you come with me and I'll show you how much more than girl.”

Luc laughed and thanked her for the offer, but said he came with his friends and he intended to leave with them. She looked us over, and seemed to stare at me particularly hard. “Your loss.” she smiled. She then sat her round behind on Jakob's lap thrusting his face into her 'cleavage' “How 'bout you Jethro? Are they all this sturdy back on the farm?”

It's Jakob, not Jethro. And how did you know I'm a farmer ,,,,ma'am?”

She shook her head. “Really? It was a joke. But you are.” she looked us over again. “Aren't you all a long way from home?”

“I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore” I quipped. She smiled. Relieved to find someone who got her sense of humor.

“Oh honey, you two never were.” She said to Luc and me. “How did you two hook up with the cast of little house?”

“It's a long story” I smiled.

“They all are. But I get paid to peddle drinks, so order a round and tell me about it.”

Jakob eagerly picked up the round of watery cocktails. I'm not sure he knew – or still knows – what a drag queen was. But Rumspringa was almost over and he just had someone smash their boobs in his face, so he was feeling generous. I was feeling a bit depressed. The drag queen had far bigger boobs and much fuller hips than I did. And a tiny wasp waist. She really was more girl than girls.

“Well, now that you've come to the pool party, slip off your shoes and jump in. Let's give you some stories to tell them back in Smallville!” as she pulled Jakob onto the dancefloor. He was grinning like an idiot. I began to worry for him. I pulled Luc to me and shouted in his ear. “He's a bit like a small child at a carnival. I worry that he will get swept up in the excitement and join the circus.” Luc nodded.

“Seth and Jakob said they already lost one of their party. We should keep him close.”

“Are you asking me to dance?” I smiled. He grabbed my hand and we hit the floor.

The drag queens were amused by the two of us, but unimpressed by me. I was a good foot shorter than any of them, far less glamorous, and a very boring dancer. They kept cutting in, making very seductive, suggestive dance moves with Luc who seemed amused as they would then step aside expecting me to mimic what they just tried to teach me. I halfheartedly copied them somehow turning the most lewd dance moves into something G-rated, and aware by the heat in my cheeks that I must have been blushing bright crimson. They were initially disappointed at my inability to 'vamp it up' but soon turned it into a game of 'how can Sandy Duncan wholesomize THIS move?' They were getting more and more forward with Luc and I was beginning to sense his increasing discomfort as things escalated, so I waved my hands in an 'I give up' gesture, smiled at the queens and gave a little mock-curtsey, taking a relieved Luc by the hand and leading him back to our table.

Our waitress, who I learned was “Lawauqa Chaime” complimented us on being good sports and model tourists, and joked that we should make an instructional YouTube when we get back to Smallville called 'how to behave at a drag club'. I mentioned that I wasn't sure Seth & Jakob understood where they were and she smiled. “We quickly figured that out. It happens. We're just having some fun with them. They'll be fine. And they seem to be enjoying themselves too... in their own, clueless way.” I suddenly got a strong mother hen vibe from our drag hostess, and I stopped worrying. “What about the rest of you? You're here, have some fun. It's open night mic. Ever do drag?” she looked at Luc, who looked at me. She then waved her hand at him. Ahh... you're too hunky anyway. Get back on the dancefloor and make the queens throw themselves at you. …..but YOU....” she stared at me. “Can you lipsync?” I just stared back like a deer in headlights. She knew. “The drag kings are on in about a half hour. Do you know any Elvis songs? Or Johnny Cash?” Wait. What did she say?

“Drag ….kings?”

“Oh honey, we're an equal opportunity drag club. Everybody gets their chance to blur the lines. What do you say?”

I blushed and smiled. “I... I don't think I could....” I couldn't stop smiling, but I felt I was being rude, so I brought my hand up to my mouth to cover my permasmile.

“BZZZZZT!” our hostess made a fail buzzer sound. “Forget it. You'd never pull it off. But if you ever want to pull a Victor Victoria, we could make a respectable queen out of you. A little short, but with a lot of padding and a little glitter we could turn you into a glamazon.”

I smiled, a little more relaxed this time. “Thanks. I'll keep that in mind”

She then sized up the other three girls and quickly focused on Chastity's stocky frame.
“You! You've done drag before. Am I right?”

Chas squirmed and turned bright red.

“I don't think our friend understands your question. She's pretty …..sheltered. She thought she would go to hell the first time we tried to talk her into wearing pants.” Felicity chirped.

While this was all true, only Chas and I knew of her day as Chaz, and I had no intention of spilling her secret.

“She's a bit of a wallflower. I can't see her standing on a stage dressed as a boy OR a girl.” I said.

“Too bad” Lawauqa said. “You'd make a fierce Roy Orbison” Chas shrugged and shot me a 'thank you' look. “Well, enjoy watching the show tourists. But if you just came to look, you coulda stayed in Kansas and ordered HBO.”

We had a fun but uneventful night. As we walked back to our hotel, Felicity quipped about one more memorable night they would never be able to talk about. Temperance teased Chastity for chickening out on the drag king open mic. Chastity shot back “I didn't see any of YOU racing to the stage”

“Y'know who would have been good? Levi.” Seth muttered. Jakob nodded. I suddenly became aware of sideways glances from all the other girls.

“He's the one you … lost?” Luc asked

“Broke is more like it” Jakob guffawed. “Those girls still won't say what they did to him, but he high tailed it home so fast..... he probably saw a little boobie and ran home to soap his eyes.” I was not amused by his stupid grin.

“Nah.” Seth said. “He'd make a lousy drag queen. He's too short. And way too shy. Did you see the way those drag queens were dancing with Luc? I can't imagine Levi doing that. Ha! Even Alison couldn't compete with them.”

“Will you please stop comparing me to drag queens? And can we change the subject?” I pleaded.

“And besides, he could never get into the club. He's too young.” Jakob mused.

“OK. It was a stupid idea.” Seth conceded. “But if he stayed, imagine how much fun we could have had with him over the last couple months.”

“As the butt of your jokes and pranks? Maybe that's why he ran away. Maybe it had nothing to do with the girls.” I said. Wait. Was I defending my former self for my fictional actions?

“Aaah. We'd just tease him. He loved the attention.” Seth retorted.

“Sounds like something a bully would say.” I shot back. The subject was quickly changed.

We spent another day hanging around San Francisco together, and it was a different experience for everyone. To Jakob and Seth, I was the girl they met at the mall and rode with to Chicago, to Luc I was spending the last days with people who shared a similar upbringing and saying a final farewell to any reminders of my old life. My three girlfriends knew this was our final goodbye and they were all at a bit of a loss as to what to make of the whole experience or the way it turned out. Swearing Chastity to secrecy was not a problem, because she felt what happens on Rumspringa is never to be talked or even thought about once one returns. I did try to get her to let go of some of the terrible guilt she felt about her part in 'killing Levi'. We all told her the only one who felt bad about this was her, and I for one thanked her for her unwitting part in this. I hoped she could learn to at least let it go, even if she could never be as positive about it as I was. Temperance and I devised a cover story as to why Levi never returned. While officially not being able to talk about Rumspringa, she will be the essence of calm and claim she knows Levi is safe, but by the rules of Rumspringa, she's not able to talk about it. She will privately assure my father that she knows I'm living with my sister in Chicago, and my failure to return was not turning my back on the community but my inability to turn my back on my sister who is all alone in the secular world. That is essentially the truth, with – as I become disturbingly good at – strategic omissions and misdirections that aren't outright untruths. Papa would know Constance and I are looking out for each other, and while I will miss him, I always sensed that he felt the burden of not being the father he wanted to be. He will no longer have that burden. And Tem promised to make clear that Connie and I will miss him dearly and keep him in our hearts and prayers, with an open invitation should he ever find himself in Chicago. While I think the odds of our quaint agrarian community starting its own space program are likelier than my dad ever making it to Chicago, should that remote possibility ever occur, I figure explaining my gender change would be one of the least unlikely obstacles.

Luc went home for a few weeks to visit with his family before returning for fall semester, and I showed up on Connie's doorstep. As expected, she was not happy to see me, but she didn't turn me away.

“So. Rumspringa's over and you're not going back?”

“How can I?”

She appraised me for a long time. “No. Of course you can't. Well life on this side of the divide is no Rumspringa vacation. I want you to know that from the start.”

“I never thought it would be.” I replied. By 'the divide' I thought she meant the gender divide. She didn't.

“The secular world is both better and worse than the world we grew up in. We were so sheltered. And Rumspringa can only hint at the differences.”

“Do you regret leaving?”

“.............No. …..I may have thought I did once or twice..... but that was just homesickness....... or maybe nostalgia..... I miss Mama........”

“I'm sorry.” I hung my head.

“Oh my God, NO!” She ran to me and wrapped me in her arms. “You were a baby. You had nothing to do with it.”

“I had everything to do with it. She died having me.”

“But... it's not your FAULT. My God. You were a newborn! God's will was done and you were a part of it, but you had no say and you have no responsibility! Is that really how you feel?”

“It's always how I felt with papa. I know when he looked at me, he saw her. And it made him miss her. So he would have as little to do with me as possible. I understood. I never took it personally. But it still made me hurt knowing I brought him such pain.”

She hugged me tighter. “Oh, you poor fucked up kid. I feel awful leaving you. I never knew you were carrying this shit around.” I laughed. Which broke the tension.

“What's so funny?” she smiled.

“You” I sheepishly grinned. “I've never heard you curse.”

Connie blushed. “You ain't heard nothing yet. Oh, kiddo. This world is SO different from everything you know.”

“Then I'm glad I have you. I can't imagine the kids who venture out alone …..like you did”

She hugged me tighter. “It was a helluva shock, but I got over it. I'm ok now. My life is …..good.”

“Do you miss any of it?”

“I miss you.... MISSED you.... and papa.... though he was never really close.... I think some of that distance you felt.... it wasn't you.... he was just never very good with people.... except with mama..... maybe it's because she was SO good with people that it made up for him being not so good, so between them they were a great match, even if it was 80% her and 20% him, they were each bringing everything they had to the relationship, and between them, it was 100%.”

“I never thought of it that way”

“Why would you? You never knew her.”

“I know. I wish I did.”

She smiled sadly. “The funny thing is. You are so much like her. And now.... like this....” she swept her hand over me “....you even fucking LOOK like her. ...More than I ever did!”

I put my finger to her lips and clucked my tongue. “When was the last time you tasted a bar of soap?” I chided.

Her eyes went wide ….and sad. “Jesus Christ you even fucking SOUND like her. Oh God. Thank God you were born a boy. This would have killed papa. It's just too much.” Suddenly she got all distant.

“OK. Levi. You're my guest until you get settled in this world, and I'm happy to help. But you are my houseguest. And I am your big sister. And YOU are my little brother! Throw your stuff in the closet. The futon is your bed unless you want to sleep on my yoga mat. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, I have to go shopping.” She abruptly grabbed her coat and left.

I tried to process what just happened. We were bonding. Beginning to make up for the lost decade since she left. She got all nostalgic, teared up talking about mama, and regarded me so warmly then her gaze slowly turned to something else.... something cold. She tersely welcomed me and abruptly left.

I knocked around her studio apartment, quickly realizing that it would be cramped for one person, and I just doubled the occupancy by showing up on her doorstep. I wondered when Connie would be back... if it was something I did that caused her to storm off... and what that might have been so I could apologize for any unwitting offense and try to avoid it in the future. I was a grateful houseguest and I didn't want to put her out any more than I needed to. I tried to earn my keep by cleaning the dishes in the sink, sponging down the spattered kitchen appliances, and picking up some of the clutter around the apartment. I was beginning to realize that my sister was a bit of a slob.

I found some cottage cheese in the fridge and discovered the TV remote in the pocket of the futon. I was exploring her endless cable selection when I finally settled on some melodrama on Lifetime. Figuring out her TV remote was way easier than figuring out her thermostat, so I grabbed a comforter out of her closet and settled in to watch the movie.

I heard her keys in the door, but she was in before I could get up. She stood in the doorway observing me. I don't know why, but she made me feel very guilty. I just had no idea why.

I put the cottage cheese on the end table, threw off the comforter, muted the movie and came to the door to help her.... noticing a bunch of bags behind her. She looked at me wryly and shook her head.

“Just keep a tab of everything I eat and I'll pay you back as soon as I get work.” I said as I walked to the door to notice they weren't grocery bags.

“This ends now.” she said sadly. Walking to the bathroom, she took a box of cosmetic wipes and threw them my way. “Take that shit off and get dressed like a boy.”

I don't know why she was so angry, but it was her house, and I was her guest. I didn't particularly want to take of my makeup, but I didn't view it as a big deal. She was having a bad day, and if me going nakedface would make it better, I was ok with that. When I came out with my freshly cleaned face, she was no happier. She walked up to me and ran fingers across my cheeks and eyelids, even stroking my pursed lips. I felt like it was some kind of inspection, and I was not passing.

“Christ, you still look like a girl. Those clothes don't help.” She opened one of the bags she brought back and tossed me a button down shirt and pair of tan dockers. As I was walking away to change she called to me. I turned around to see her dangling a new pair of boxers on her finger. “I don't suppose.....?” she started to say when I smiled sheepishly. “Of course not.” She balled them up and threw them at me. While I was changing in the bathroom, Connie informed me that she was leaving shoes and socks by the door. When I walked out into her apartment she scowled, eyed me long and hard and finally muttered “...the hair.... it's gotta be the hair”. She tossed me a Cubs cap. I put it on, pulling my hair through the back.

“No!” she shouted. “Lose the hair!”

I looked at her with alarm. Did she want me to cut off my hair? She must have read my mind.

“….under the cap!” Phew. I quickly wrapped it into a bun while she watched, shaking her head. I pulled the hat on over my head, stuffing the stray hairs up. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“What?” I genuinely didn't know what she meant. Connie scowled.

“Wrap your hair into a bun like that?”

“I dunno. I've always done it that way. It just seems the easiest way to get it out of the way, and when I wrap it like that, it stays in place better.” She frowned and shook her head.

“No one showed you?”

“Showed me what?”

“You just always put your hair up that way?”

“No. I almost never put my hair up. I like it down. It's hot like this. Like layering blankets. But when I need to get it out of the way, this is what I'd always do.”

“Always? You mean back on the farm? Your hair was that long back on the farm?”

“Not always. But mostly. Papa would always find excuses not to cut my hair, or pretty much spend any time with me. And when I tried to do it myself, everyone called me 'scarecrow' so I just let it grow. Eventually they stopped calling me scarecrow. But they did start calling me 'Samson', so I started tying it up under my hat. I think everyone knew it was there, but they stopped teasing me. They didn't ask, and I didn't tell.” Connie snorted. “What?”

“Nevermind. You wouldn't get it. OK. Step over here. Let's have a look at you.” She stared disapprovingly as I walked to the center of the room. “Don't sway your arm. Are you slouching?”

“I dunno. Maybe. This makes me feel kind of..... depressed.”

“Good. Slouching works. Makes you look more like a boy.”

I smiled sadly, thinking of brooding Chaz. Great.

“Turn around. All the way around.” I did.

“Oh for crying out loud, move your feet! Don't turn on the balls of your feet like a freaking showgirl!”

I was trying to be a good houseguest and dutiful little brother and do as she asked, but everything I did made her yell at me more. I could feel my eyes starting to well up from the frustration and disappointment. “Oh for God's sake, don't start to CRY!....” She handed me some tissues. “Jesus, you are such a GIRL!” I couldn't completely repress the smile, but I tried. “This is not FUNNY! You are not a girl. You are a boy. Start behaving like one!”

“I really am trying. I always tried. My whole life I tried. It's always been a struggle. Watching the boys.... how they stand... how they sit... the way they carry themselves.... but seeing someone do something and learning how to do it yourself... it isn't easy. My whole life I tried to do every little thing on purpose the way others did it. Whenever I would get distracted and do something without thinking, I'd get laughed at and teased. I got good at thinking about everything.... but never so good at actually doing it.” I had forgotten this feeling. That fatigue of having to second guess everything. I hadn't felt that exhausting weight since..... that evening at the mall.

Connie frowned. “You still look like a tomboy. Well, it's a start. You hungry?” I shrugged and looked over to the cottage cheese. “That's not food. That's garnish.” she tacked on a cheerful smile. “C'mon, you're in Chicago! Let's go get some deep dish.”

I did not feel comfortable in the pizza place, there were big screens showing sports everywhere, and it was noisy and rowdy.

“You a Cubs fan miss?” The waiter asked. Connie scowled.

“It's my sisters.” I looked apologetic.

“My LITTLE BROTHER is visiting from out of town. I let HIM wear my Cubs cap so HE'D feel more at home.” she painfully explained to the waiter. Who wasn't hearing a word.

“OK. Great. Here are your menus ladies. Can I get you any drinks?”

Connie sighed loudly, “Diet coke for me. Levi?”

“Yes Constance?” I glared at her.

“...Sorry. Lee.... what would you like to drink?”

“Can I just have a water?” Connie was shaking her head.

“My BROTHER will have a large chocolate shake. And an order of chili fries.”

“Are you trying to make me throw up in your hat? Because I will.” The waiter seemed to find this funny.

“I'm paying for this meal, so I'M ordering. Now GO.” she motioned for him to leave. This just made him smile harder.

He leaned in to me “is this some kind of sorority hazing?” he whispered. I couldn't hold back the giggle. He winked at me and went away. This only made Connie angrier.

“Dammit Lee. This isn't funny!” I disagreed. It was preposterous. “Jesus Christ, you look like a starving urchin. Are you even a hundred fucking pounds?” This got the smile from my face. I hated it when she cursed. “And between your small frame and fair features, you look like you're eleven!” I shrugged. I'd always been smaller than the other kids, everyone back home just took for granted that I was a slow developer. Connie was trying to push things. I learned long ago that pushing just made things more frustrating, but it looked like she was going to have to learn this for herself, so I tried to be patient.

Finally she stopped trying to force feed me and we took the rest of the food home.

“I think you have an eating disorder. You're too skinny.”

“I think you're the one with the eating disorder. You were trying to fatten me up like a goose. I eat when I'm hungry, and I bet I'm at least as healthy as you are.”

“Don't lecture me little brother.” She was up to something, but I didn't know what. Turned out it was a trip to the mall where she took me to the haircutting place and argued with the girl who didn't want to cut off all my long hair. Connie was insistent. The girl relented, looking to me to help her argue against it. I was just trying to keep it together because I knew I was this close to bursting into tears and making an awful scene.

“Get in the chair 'Samson'!” Connie joked, trying to make light of the tense situation.

“...As you wish... Delilah.” I sighed. That shut her up. She didn't speak to me again until after we got home and she was back on her own turf.

My only consolation about the trauma of the “shearing” was that after the girl gave me the 'boy cut' that Connie insisted on, she turned to me and said “I was getting ready to call social services. I thought it was so cruel to cut off all that lovely hair, but I have to admit you have one of those magic faces. I don't know how your sister saw it, but she was right. You look just like that movie star!”

Connie's eyes lit up.

“Which one?” I asked with a quivering lip, dreading the answer.

“Oh, you know, the one from all those old black and white movies on TV? Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Sabrina...”

“Audrey Hepburn?” I beamed.

“Yes! That's the one!” She grabbed her phone. “May I get some pictures? We have to add this to our stylebook. Take THAT Supercuts!”

I beamed for the camera and giggled. Connie just rolled her eyes.

When we got back to her home, I thanked her again for taking me in and got ready for bed. I really meant it, even though I hated the way she was treating me. I knew she was doing what she thought was right, and no matter how much I disagreed with her, the only one who could change her mind was her. I just prayed it would happen soon.

“Wait a minute. What is that?”

“It's a T-shirt.”

“A BOY's T-shirt?” I nodded. Actually, it was Luc's soft old Pernod Absynthe tee and it was way too big for me. She yanked it off me. “Well, it's swimming on you. It looks like a sleepdress! Boxers only. Sleep like a boy goddamit! Wait. What are those?”

“My feet?”

“Those toes are going first thing in the morning. Is there ANYTHING about you I don't have to un-girl?” I shrugged. “Now go to bed and we'll fix the rest in the morning.”

I didn't sleep well. I kept waking up from the same dream. It wasn't the sex dream. It was the dream where I was being chased by the gang of boys in sports jerseys. I'd always get myself into a dead end or corner and wake up in a cold sweat. I'd get myself a glass of water, have a pee, and try to get back to sleep.

The next morning Connie seemed calmer. I was up when she rose. Maybe the smell of the coffee woke her up, but I couldn't sleep anyway, so as soon as I saw daylight through the window, I started making breakfast. I was sure she would at least remember sunrise breakfasts from the farm. I used to make breakfast for papa every morning then excuse myself while he ate and headed off to morning chores. At least with Connie I hoped I could sit with her during breakfast without the awkward tension.

She staggered out to the kitchenette rubbing her eyes. I smiled hopefully at her. Preparing breakfast was one thing I always did as a boy, so I hoped she would appreciate that I was trying to be who she wanted me to be. I couldn't tell from her face how she took my gesture.

“How did you sleep?” she asked groggily, I shrugged. She looked at me for an uncomfortably long time. “Well, the futon's not the most comfortable. It would be worse if you were taller.” She continued to stare at me. “So did you get up during the night?”

“A few times” I answered trying to make it sound like no big deal. What did she hear last night?

“Have a pee?” ….Odd question.

I nodded. “A few times. Must have been the milkshake.” She snorted. She kept staring.

“…..well....... thanks for putting the seat back down.” I blushed a little. That was what she was waiting for. “OK. I just don't get it! You ARE a BOY goddamit!” and she reached out and pulled down my boxers.

I was mortified and recoiled into a kind of fetal position. She immediately regretted her brash outburst, I could tell. But my shock and embarrassment outweighed any compassion I had for her.

“Connie! Constance! How COULD you?”

She regained her composure and tried to keep up her righteous attitude. “It's nothing I haven't seen before. I used to change you, remember?” Then she stared at my nakedness. “It's just as I remember it.”

I blushed. This was beyond embarrassing.

“....actually, it's exactly the way I remember it. I would have thought it would be ...bigger... by now.”

“Can I die now? Please?” Finally, her shame caught up to her. She muttered “Sorry” and rushed out of the room.

To say things were awkward between us would be an understatement. Finally, she broke the ice.

“So. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“What?”

“The dreams. You do know that you talk in your sleep don't you?” I had always wondered, but hoped it was just my imagination. I shook my head. “Who were you running from?”

“Boys.”

“What boys?”

I shrugged. “No boys in particular. Just a bunch of jocks in sports jerseys.”

“Why are they chasing you?” I shrugged. “What happens when they catch you?”

“I don't want to find out. I know that. It's terrifying, but I always wake up just as they catch me.”

“Is this a dream or did it really happen?” she asked.

I shrugged, I really didn't remember. “All I know is it feels real. Everytime.”

“You have this dream a lot?” I nodded. “All the time?” I shook my head. It just dawned on me.

“Not for the past month and a half.” Connie gave me a hard look, trying to decide whether I was trying to pull something.

“So while you were Alison, you didn't have dreams?”

“Of course I had dreams.”

“Not this dream.” I shook my head. She raised an eyebrow. “Any OTHER recurring dreams?” I went crimson. Once again, my body betrays me. She took this in and thought for a long while.

“You know you suck at being a boy?”

I scowled. “....I really DO try....”

“I know you do sweetie. But let's face it, I make a better boy than you do.” My laugh sounded bitter, though I don't think I felt bitter. Just …....bemused.

“Sorry about everything. Especially the hair. But it will grow back. I'll stop trying to make you something you obviously are not.... no matter how hard you try. If it's any consolation, until your hair grows out, you make a pretty hot dyke.” I didn't find that consoling at all, but she was making an effort so I smiled weakly. Maybe now we could stop fighting.

I thanked God that she stopped trying to make me into the little brother she missed growing up with and started accepting me for the sibling she never really knew. That we could work on. Levi was always just an illusion, so she couldn't bring him back. But I was real, and once she accepted that, we worked on making up for all those lost years.

I found she was a lot like my father, only without the brooding. She was headstrong and slow to come around, but once you won her to your side, she was steadfast. She described herself as a pitbull. I think she was proud of it. I agreed that her personality traits could be a great asset – as long as she directed them toward the right things. Loyalty is a noble trait, stubbornness is a character flaw.

She told me about Mama. My father never talked about her, and I learned early not to ask, so hearing Connie's stories were a delight I couldn't get enough of. She kept mentioning how much I reminded her of mama. That made me proud and sad at the same time, because I desperately wish I could have known her, but felt so privileged to hear that I had so much of her in me.

As siblings, and eventually I guess for all intents and purposes as sisters, we got along famously. Each goading the other to be better people than we would have been on our own. I really overstayed my welcome, but Connie didn't seem to mind. I picked up some odd jobs here and there, doing catering and house cleaning, so I wasn't a complete parasite. Still, I knew I had to get out and make a life of my own. And give her back her own.

Luc had been back at school for a couple months now, and even though we lived within 50 miles of each other, we hadn't met face to face since his return. We did wear out our phones with mushy calls and racy txts, we even had a few facetime and skype calls, which proved tricky.

The reason I avoided seeing Luc was because Connie's 'bring back the boy' obsession had made me really unpresentable. Even she conceded I never really made a convincing boy, but the short hair and boy clothes made me look like one of those Drag Kings from the club we visited in SF.

When Connie finally relented and let me live as Ali again, I still had a lot of hair to grow back. I got it to a Miley Cyrus pixie quickly enough, but this wasn't a look I wanted to share with Luc.

I saved up and bought a wig that was a close enough color and length that it looked like my own hair – if I hadn't washed or styled it for weeks. I figured it would be good enough for facetime or skype calls, as long as I kept the lighting behind me and found a bad enough net connection that the picture quality was always poor.

This worked well enough that Luc never noticed – or was too polite to say anything. He was busy with school and editing his summer project, and I was busy picking up whatever piecemeal work I could find and looking for a real job, so it was kind of a relief that we weren't officially 'an item'. Much as we missed each other, neither of us had time for socializing.

I suggested that we use this time to play the field, meet other people and see what else was out there. Summer was a whirlwind and we both fell hard. I suggested we take time off to try out other people, and if after exploring other options, the chemistry was still overwhelming, we could get back together and be even stronger, having removed any nagging 'what-if's from our mind.

Luc agreed a bit too readily, though I got the strong impression that he also wanted to use this 'hiatus' not as an excuse to see other people, but to get out of socializing and focus on other things. As it turned out, neither of us ever really tested the other fish in the sea option. We both knew we had found the one, and were just happy for the time off.

I needed to turn my attention to getting documented and finding a fulltime job. Constructing my new life out of whole cloth.

The papers Temperance managed to get for me helped my job search immeasurably. As an undocumented worker, I was always getting sub minimum wage jobs working for people willing to look the other way to save a few bucks. It was better than panhandling, but not much. I was grateful for whatever work I could get "under the table", but it was very hard and could get very discouraging. I was fortunate, knowing that the wheels were turning, and eventually I would have proper documentation. Months can feel like years, and without Connie's love and encouragement, despair may have beaten me. I tried to imagine the other folks I often worked with, who had no 'Golden Ticket' in their future.My heart ached and I prayed for them often. I smiled at the thought that 'patience' and 'perseverance' had become my new best friends.

It took much longer than I expected, but Temperance came through, and by the following summer, I was 'in the system' as Ali, and as requested with a birthday a couple years earlier than Levi. It wasn't as important as I once thought, since I was now old enough to get a drivers license even with my actual date of birth, but I was looking forward to reaching eighteen a few years ahead of schedule and no longer being an 'emancipated minor'.

With my 'documents' and upon my official eighteenth birthday I was able to quickly get a job at a temp agency which let me network with all sorts of various people and eventually led to a fulltime position at a Swiss Biotech subsidiary that had just set up a branch near the Champaign Urbana campus. My French was definitely an asset dealing with our home office and Canadian subsidiary, and I immersed myself in German language study in my spare time, knowing it could only help. Before too long my passably adequate and quickly improving German enabled me to handle more communications with other branches. In addition to reception and phones, I found myself being pressed into service when managers needed someone to bridge the language barrier between offices. I made it clear that I lacked the skills of a formal translator but I could facilitate idea exchange, if not provide officially sanctioned translation.

Most of my language work came after hours, when coworkers who were not as comfortable with their language skills would have me go over work to make sure there were no glaring errors before they sent it along to other divisions. I probably ended up seeing stuff I shouldn't have... in-progress research and lots of proprietary work that would be buried in patents and deliberate obfuscation to prevent reverse engineering once it got to market. But I was seeing the raw research in all its elegant purity. I'm sure the researchers never suspected that this simple secretary had any idea what they were up to, but you don't have to graduate Julliard to appreciate Bach, and over time I think I began to get the knack of what they were up to and it was staggering. These 5 guys in particular were junior researchers in various departments and submitting bold proposals to management for outrageously ambitious stuff. These two guys were trying to bioengineer a virus that ignored normal cells but targeted cancer cells causing them to self destruct. These other guys were working on reprogramming DNA by inducing mutations in specific protein pairs, it became clear quickly that they were talking about switching off the 'counter' that told a DNA strand how many times it had replicated and gave it a finite span. Of course all these radical ideas kept getting shot down by senior management. One day I suggested to Dr Chayapurna that he should call it something like the “Methusela Gene” to sell it to unimaginative managers who clearly couldn't grasp what he was hinting at. He seemed quite surprised by my suggestion. He had always been courteous but rather distant, just dropping off the work and thanking me for my discretion helping him author his proposals in respectable French or German. But when I made my suggestion, I sensed that for the first time, I attracted his conscious attention.

“Exactly how much of what you read do you understand?”

“Well, I'm no scientist, but it seems clear that you are talking about reprogramming a genome like flashing an eprom in a cellphone. Am I mistaken?”

“No. On the contrary, your eprom analogy is excellent. We've struggled with trying to explain what we are endeavoring to do over hundreds of pages and complex equations, but you just summed it up succinctly in a single sentence. Seriously, you don't mind if we use this analogy, miss....”

“Crowe. Alison Crowe. I would be flattered Dr Chayapurna.”

“Kal. Please. My friends and colleagues call me Kal. And I'd like to think that you just became both.”

“Well, thank you Dr.... Kal. Do you think now that senior management will pay more attention to your proposals?”

“They'd be fools not to. …..but then again, they have a long history of foolish decisions. If it doesn't have an immediate impact on the quarterly earnings statement, they don't want to hear about it. They consider anything more than 90 days from profitability to be charity work and they keep suggesting that we go back to academia if we want to rejoin the non-profit sector.”

“Well, how close is it?”

“Frankly, I don't know. We have figured out what pairs to manipulate and how to change the protein strings, but the problem is it's non discriminatory, if it encounters a cell that has already been flipped, it will simply flip it back, negating the original effect. It could take us years to find an effective solution to this problem.”

“What if I told you that I think someone else already has?” His eyes went wide.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“Only that you are not the only lab team using me to translate their reports, and yours is not the only research I read. I can't say any more, and I'm sure you will respect that, after all I have never talked with others about your research and never would.” He nodded.

“Then how do you suggest we proceed? This mystery party knows nothing of my research and I know nothing of theirs. Yet you are familiar with both and desire to play ….matchmaker.... if that's not a disrespectful term.”

I beamed. “Actually, it's an ideal word. Now it's your turn to cut right to the kernel of things. What if I try to set up a 'play date'? ….after hours socializing with colleagues from a different division of the same corporate parent. You can size each other up, sniff each others asses, whatever you scientists do, and if you think you have something, see if the sum of your relationship exceeds the total of its parts.”

“Ha ha my girl, I like the way you put it. If you're half as persuasive with them as you were with me, and you are as intuitive about the research as I'm beginning to believe you are, this could be the start of something very big. I'll persuade my colleague Dr Ortega, and you approach this other party. I look forward to hearing from you and being able to arrange our ...heh heh... “play date” as you say. Something tells me this is an auspicious turn of events.”

“I share your excitement Dr... sorry... Kal. I have a really good feeling about this.”

“As do I my dear.” he smiled and gathered his translated research. As he was leaving, he turned to me from the door and said. “Tell me my dear, ...do you believe in serendipity?”

I giggled and beamed at him “Why, I've already told others, that's what I plan to name my firstborn!”

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of intrigue and skullduggery. The meeting with Dr Suhkarnov's team went well and it was quickly unanimous that they were like two strands of a helix, each destined for the other. Both acknowledged my contribution as catalyst and it soon became acutely embarrassing. Here were these world class scientists conceiving the unimaginable and paying tribute to this alleged high school graduate who recognized in both the match to the other. When I knew in truth that I barely completed what by outside standards would be considered grade 6. On the farm, you don't have much need for calculus, quantum physics or nanobiology. I was just naturally curious and would always hide from my tormentors in the last place they would ever think of going: the public library. I took pleasure in the most arcane things, I found beauty in abstract math and avant garde music, it all seemed to me like different dimensions of the same thing... the inherently beautiful fabric of reality as perceived through our extremely limited senses. I always saw patterns in things.... variations on variations, notes and harmonies inextricably linked. I didn't know much by the standards of the educational system, but I recognized truth when I encountered it, and that's why I had to bring these 5 diverse researchers together. It's also how I realized without a doubt, that Alison was who I was destined to be.

God works in mysterious ways. And if 'cosmic matchmaker' was to be my role, I would welcome it and commit to it 100%.

I was deeply flattered to be included in the conversation once the 'gang of five' believed they were meant to be a team and complimented each other perfectly. I tried to contribute, and always felt listened to and respected. So I was a bit surprised that I was credited with the most seditious idea agreed to by the group.

“Allison has an excellent point.” Dr Koetsu said. “None of this research is our primary department task. It was all detours suggested by anomalies in our proscribed duties. I posit that none of this research was directed by or approved from the company.” The others nodded. “We've been digressing from our mundane duties and chasing white rabbits into uncharted – and unsanctioned - territory.” More nods and some guilty looks. “So none of what we're discussing here falls under the non-disclosure or non-compete provisions of our employment contracts.

“Are you suggesting what I think?....” Dr Sukharnov said. Koetsu nodded. Glancing from one to the other.

“This will take a lot of capital” Dr Loessing mused.

“This could be as big as Crick & Watson... Pasteur... Lister.... Koeller”

“Koeller?” I asked blankly

“Just wait” he winked. “What I'm saying is, who wouldn't want a piece of this?”

“If we can get them to see it. It's pretty arcane stuff.” Said Dr Ortega.

“That's why we have our muse of accessibility” smiled Dr Chayapurna. “Have you ever seen anyone with her ability to distill esoteric concepts into executive summaries a 5th grader could grasp?”

Everyone nodded and looked at me. I turned crimson.

“How is everyone set? Can you wait out the 180 day quarantine period and be ready to start the incubator in April?” Sukharnov inquired,

“April first would be an ideal day to go public with our mission statement, Everyone will think it's yet another outrageous prank and we should be able to hide in plain sight until we have a viable product.” smiled Koetsu. Everyone else beamed like cheshire cats. The plan was set and the sedition begun. I was quite ambivalent at being perceived as the instigator of this plan. I just wanted to gather people who I thought would compliment each other wonderfully. I did not intend to instigate a brain-drain at my current employer, and spawn a revolutionary new start up. Not that my current employer would consider their loss a brain-drain. In the eyes of management they were mid-level research drones. From the correspondence I helped translate, it was clear no one valued the amazing individuals they had working for them in dead end jobs. I was happy for them, and was sure they were destined for greatness, but I confessed deep ambivalence at driving them away, and choked up a little when I told them how much I would miss them all.

“Miss us? Why would you miss us? You're coming with us!” Dr Chaya....Kal said.

“I'm sorry. I can't afford to take a half a year off. I have bills to pay and a landlord to feed.”

“Do you seriously think we would let you take a half a year off? Do you realize how much work there is to do? Scouting research facilities, negotiating leases, acquiring utilities services, ordering lab equipment....”

“Not to mention translating our prospectus into French and German and.... do you have any others?”

“Not yet.” I smiled. And the room erupted in laughter.

“No, my dear. We will not let you get away. Without you we'd still be toiling away after hours and jousting at corporate windmills. You are as responsible as anyone for what we will accomplish. You are the catalyst. If not for you none of this would have happened. Which is why I propose we name our startup “A+5 research” We are Alison's gang of 5, and she is the trunk from which all our research will cross pollinate and blossom.

Glasses were raised, the proposal was agreed upon unanimously. A toast was made and I searched for a new shade of crimson.

6 months pass extremely quickly when you're overwhelmed with intricate detail work. Fortunately, I've always been a quick study. Not having a life helped too. Since I got my fulltime job and moved into my own place, I'd see Connie about once a month, and catch up on her life. When the conversation turned to me, I was dismissive, saying something to the effect that I was too busy doing to talk about what I was doing, but promising her that when I eventually came up for air, she'd get the whole story. All I would say was that it was outrageous and unimaginable, and she would always smile and respond, “I expect nothing less from you.”

A5 Research got off the ground with surprisingly few bumps, considering none of the researchers had ever been part of a start-up before, and I had never really been part of anything before. It was my great fortune that I found an endless supply of mentors, and I was a good listener. I was also not a bad judge, While I found some inspiring role models, I found at least as many cautionary tales, and learned a lot more from the people who gave me sincere, but awful, advice. I seemed to have an ability to learn from their mistakes, even when the lessons seem to have eluded them completely.

So, after a minor courtroom drama when our former employer noticed a number of disparate researchers left at the same time and later surfaced as principals of a startup, prompting a non-compete lawsuit that was quickly dismissed when preliminary patent filings and investor prospectus showed no correlation to the mundane work each had done for the corporation, we were off and running, Trying to brainstorm where to start with this intriguing list of related projects. It was decided that the biggest splash would come in the 'cancer killer' virus. The first action the principals took was sequencing and patenting their personal genomes. While publishing their copyrighted genomes was principally a marketing stunt, they actually did plan to use the data in lab research. They also saw it as their version of the original Apple Macintosh team having their signatures molded into the inside of the cases of their creation. It was a gesture. A statement of pride of creation of the marvels they planned to bestow upon humanity. It could be called hubris, but it seemed to those of us close to it, as an affirmation of confidence in what we were about to undertake. The 5 researchers published their copyrighted genomes , and strongly encouraged me to do the same. When I balked, they took it as misguided modesty. I knew otherwise. I did not want my XY chromosome publicly displayed to the world.

Dr Ivan Sukharnov – Vanya, and I had become quite close during the formation of the labs. I considered myself privileged to be a valued associate of all five principals despite my profound lack of formal education and any degrees or certifications. But Vanya was special. We became like extended family. His own family was in Georgia. The republic, not the state. And except for Connie, I had no one in this world. He became like an older brother or younger uncle to me, and I don't know what I was to him, but I never got the impression that I was any kind of crush or romantic interest. If we joked or flirted it was an innocent playfulness and was completely devoid of any sexual overtones. Well, none that I could sense, and I consider myself pretty good at detecting those sorts of things. In fact Vanya was the only one I never got that vibe from, that in an idle moment they had a passing sexual thought about me. But then again, I sensed that a lot of guys got passing notions of a sexual nature about most people – and many inanimate objects – in the course of their average day. I wondered if Vanya might be gay, but I never got the sense that he was attracted to guys either. He was just an enigma with no apparent libido or the most amazing powers of sexual repression I'd ever met. So when Vanya came to me as a friend to try to persuade me to get sequenced and publish, I was more forthcoming than usual.

“What is it that you are afraid to find out?” He prodded.

“Nothing”. His bullshit detector was the best. He knew I wasn't lying, I wasn't afraid of finding out anything. Unfortunately, he also was equally skilled at parsing what I did not say.

“OK. So what are you afraid of others finding out.?” My blush was his jackpot detector. Still I was not going to volunteer anything. He was going to have to work for this. I was counting on wearing him down before he got to the truth.

“What can your genome tell us that will surprise us? It is just a blueprint of the house. It is not the essence of the home. No one knows that better than we five. Do you think your genome will show the world your insight? Your ability to take seemingly unrelated random elements and combine them into a braintrust that can change the world? Will it show us the purity of your heart? Your ability to draw out the best in people and to diffuse the worst before they can sabotage their own potential? DNA is the sheet music. It is not the symphony. The skill of the musician, the craftsmanship of the instrument, the vision and inspiration of the conductor or the appreciation of the audience.” He ragarded me for an uncomfortably long time, kneaded his chin, and resumed. “Tell you what. Let me run your sequence. Just between us. No publish. Only you see ….and I see – because I must run sequencer. I promise you I will not be surprised by anything. I mean it. Anything. We make bet. OK? If I am surprised, we destroy results and never speak of this again, OK?”

“And what's in this for you?” I was curious why he was so determined to run my sequence.

“Well, up to now we do everything unanimously. All six of us. Always all in. A+5. This is first rift. And over something as silly as a genome. It is like open source code. There is always sloppiness and ugly bits, but those are everywhere. No code is above that. No genome is above anomalies. The random abnormality is as normal as it gets. So you do this. We see results. You publish, and we are 6 together again. ….And if genome indicates you are not actually human but alien species sent here to jumpstart human evolution by convincing us to start this company, Dr Koetsu owes me lunch.”

I laughed. Vanya always did have a knack for engaging in the most bleak topics of conversation and somehow injecting levity into them.

“OK. OK. Enough” I laughed. “I'll do it. Just between us. Get me a swab before I change my mind. ...and if you blow my cover earthman, you're spacedust.”

Apparently he had expected to win me over, because without moving, he produced a swabkit and took my sample.

The next few days were tense. I was torn over my decision and what would become of it. But if anyone had to learn my secret, I can't imagine any group more understanding of the open ended nature of the universe than my five esteemed friends and colleagues.

Sukharnov rang me up three days later.

“When can we talk?”

“And a pleasant good day to you too Dr Sukharnov. How is your day?”

“So far.... unexpected.”

“Surprising?”

“Ahhhh...” I could hear his rueful smile in his tone of voice. “I gave you my word I would not be surprised. I am a man of my word.”

“I see. So you are not surprised?”

“Well.... I am not bored... let us say I am ….intrigued.”

“Intrigued?”

“Please. We need to talk. When are you free?”

“How much time do you need?”

“I would like at least an hour.”

“I don't have a whole hour free. I can do 15 minutes. Maybe a half hour.”

“No. I need at least the full hour. What are you doing after work?”

“No plans. But I don't know how late I'll be working.”

“No matter. I will wait.”

“You make this sound so dire.” Maybe it wasn't the Y chromosome. Maybe I had some horrible disease.

“Not dire. But important. Very important. May change the future of the company. Please. See me immediately after work.”

“Oh crap. You found my alien DNA. They said it would be invisible to sequencing” I kidded. He didn't laugh. I couldn't concentrate for the remainder of the day.

I wrapped up as early as I could and called Sukharnov to say I was on my way over. Part of me dreaded going, yet part of me just wanted it to be over.

When I arrived at his lab, he sat me down on a lab stool and offered me tea.

“So, I take it you already know. Which is why you resisted the sequencing.”

“Know what?” I wanted to be absolutely clear we were talking about the same thing before I accidentally gave something away.

“About your extra chromosome”

“Extra chromosome?”

“Yes. You are XXY. It seems you have bit of boy in your DNA.”

“Honestly. I didn't know about an extra chromosome. That explains so much.”

“You did not know? So why were you so reticent to be mapped?”

“I did not know I had an extra chromosome....” I was struggling with where to go with this. How much to reveal and how to doubletalk my way around the issue as I always did. Vanya was too perceptive. I would not be able to wiggle out of this. I needed to lay all my cards on the table.

“I honestly did not know I had an extra chromosome. I thought I was simply XY.”

“XY? XY is boy.” I nodded and hung my head. He laughed. “XY? You thought you were boy?”

My pained expression stifled his mirth. He reached over and lifted my chin till I was looking him in the eye. “What on earth made you think you were boy?”

“Everything. Everyone. I lived as a boy until I was 14.”

“I can not imagine that, and I have pretty good imagination. And how did you come to live as girl?”

“That's a long story that makes more sense if alcohol is involved in the telling. But once I started living as a girl, there was no going back.” I was tearing up. So ashamed that I had deceived everyone who trusted me.

“Of course there was no going back. I am not surprised that you live as girl. I am shocked that you lived for 14 years as boy. I simply can not see it. I promised you I would not be shocked. You win. I am shocked to learn you lived as boy for 14 years. And you actually thought you WERE boy?”

I nodded tearfully and forced a weak smile. “If it's any consolation, I was a terrible boy.”

“THIS is not surprise. I can't believe you were fooled for 14 years.”

“How was I to know? I knew nothing about DNA or chromosomes growing up.”

“Well, you know now. So we get to the point of our talk. What to do about it.”

“What is there to do about it?”

“Lose the Y of course. And tidy up the boy bits.”

“Boy bits? You mean like surgery?”

“I meant cleaning up genome. You mean there are boy bits big enough for surgery?”

“Why do you think I thought I was a boy for 14 years?”

“And these bits ….work?”

“Work? How? Plumbing? Of course.”

“No. I mean sex.”

“How would I know if they work for sex?”

“That you even have to ask is my answer.. OK. What's say we get full body scan and see what boy bits and girl bits your dueling chromosomes gave you.” We spent most of the evening in the lab, with Vanya testing me like a lab animal. EEG revealed a reasonably normal female brain, with atypicalities unrelated to gender that he thought explained a lot about my peculiar 'talents' at seeing complex synergies and interactions and being able to explain arcane concepts in simple metaphors. The physical scan was a bit ….unexpected. I seemed to have nascent female reproductive apparatus, but it was dormant, as was the rudimentary and undeveloped male bits. Vanya speculated that my endocrine system, was getting conflicting messages and had essentially forestalled any kind of puberty, since my body was capable of instigating either male or female puberty but had no inherent bias either way, and so failed to start either.

“Actually, it looks like you're capable of going either way. I did not think such a thing was possible, but thanks to the work we're doing in the lab, we can eliminate the conflicting chromosome, and break the stalemate, so you get to choose.”

“Choose?”

“Yes. Your decision. We wipe one chromosome from your genome and your body begins down the remaining path.”

“What about the ...residual bits?”

“I think Dr Loessing's cancer bomb can help. We can alter the tech to target undesired reproductive organs. Your own immune system will rid you of the wrong bits. So what do you think? Boy or girl?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Of course I must ask. It is your decision. Would you like some time to think it over?”

“No. There is no doubt in my mind. I wasted the first 14 years of my life as a sorry excuse for a boy. I'll be relieved to be rid of any reminder of those years.”

Sukharnov smiled. “I had a feeling you would say something like that so I prepared some strains of immunoinstigator.” he flourished his hands like a magician and produced a syringe and 3 vials.

“And if I had chosen 'boy'?”

“All right, I made that up too. But I would have to go to Dr Loessing's lab to get it.”

I held out my arm and let him jab me. The serum burned a little going in, and I felt as if I could feel it coursing through my veins. I had just rolled the snowball off the pinnacle and now there was nothing to do but wait.

“So, what should I expect?”

“I have no idea. This has never been done before. You are subject zero”

Of course I was. I should have realized that. This serum was just a computer model this morning. We had the capability to design a gene, hormone or enzyme in the computer and create it in the lab that afternoon. I was now about to become proof of concept of everything this company was built on.

It wasn't until the next Tuesday that the manure hit the fan. It was our weekly 'all hands' meeting where the entire company ….all 12 of us, got together and talked about what we were working on and how our individual processes might be useful to each other. Dr Loessing mentioned loaning out his lab gear to Dr Sukharnov for some 'black project' which raised a few eyebrows. Suddenly the meeting got derailed and it became all about Sukharnov's secret project. Vanya was cool and in command, he must have been anticipating something like this. He calmly stated that he was working on a blue sky project that was far too preliminary to discuss with the others. When questioned on his vague statement, he did imply that his “secret project” involved jumping over the standard virtual simulation and going straight to real world experimentation. That got everyone wound up. His 'blatant disregard for established protocol' turned the rest of the room into a bunch of angry villagers with pitchforks and torches. I wanted to deflect the animus, especially since I was secretly the cause.

“Can everyone please just calm down?” I never shouted, so that got everyone's attention.

“We've been working together for nearly a year now. We know each other far better than mere colleagues. Does anyone in this room think Dr Sukharnov would engage in reckless activity? Or that he would be so secretive without a good reason?”

“That's what has us so agitated!” Dr Chayapurna said. “Why can't you tell us?”

“Ah, there's the paradox.” Sukharnov smiled. “If I explain my reason for secrecy, I give you the key to my secret.”

I interjected. “May I propose that we close this meeting to principals only before this discussion goes any further?” The lab assistants looked really hurt when I suggested that they be asked to leave the room. I put on my best 'concerned mom' face and spoke directly to them. “I suggest this not to exclude you, but to protect you. Whatever happens next, you will be no part of. You will not be deposed and you can not face any prosecution.” This alarmed the entire room. Which was my intent. The assistants quickly left the room, leaving my 5 colleagues anxiously staring at me. I was aware that the 6 assistants were just on the other side of the glass, regarding us like specimens in an incubator. I didn't worry about anyone reading lips, but I was very conscious of sending misleading signals through my body language.

“Sorry to alarm you, but it was the quickest way to get the others out of the room” I wanted to smile reassuringly, but with the eyes outside the room on me, I instead furrowed my brow in concern. “Listen to my words, They are for you. My body language is for everyone outside the room still staring at us. Everyone turned around to stare at the assistants who suddenly got very self conscious and started shuffling nervously. When all heads turned back to me, I saw the smiles appear at the same time the group outside the glass resumed staring at me.

“Remind me to never invite you over for poker.” Dr Koetsu grinned.

I Furrowed my brow, crossed my arms and scowled at him. “I think that's a wise decision my friend.”

“Since we're speaking of poker, I think it's time to put all our cards on the table Vanya.”

“Are you certain you want to do this?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No. I'm not. So lets do it before I change my mind. Dr Sukharnov's secrecy was at the request of his co-conspirator on this endeavor.”

“And who would that be?” Dr Loessing glared at me.

Sukharnov started to rise.

“Vanya. Sit. Please keep your back to the glass. We don't want to double the chance that our audience will catch on.” I looked at him apologetically, and he nodded in agreement.

Looking straight ahead at me and not at Dr Loessing, Sukharnov said “Chet, let's just refer to my collaborator as 'Subject Zero'”

The room erupted. Any cool poker faces evaporated instantly. The 4 scientists crowded around Sukharnov's chair.

“You're experimenting on a live subject?” Chayapurna shouted.

“For the love of God, please at least tell me the subject is not human!” Dr Koetsu had grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Despite the side bet about my Alien DNA, my genome is completely human.” I said nearly under my breath. That stopped the room.

“YOU'RE subject zero?”

“When did you relent to sequencing?”

“Last week. Vanya can be very persuasive.”

“And for God's sake what did you find that prompted Sukharnov to begin a live experiment? Is that why you resisted?”

“There are WAY too many parts to that question. OK. I had a suspicion about what my genome would reveal. The actual results were unexpected, but supplied an alternate reason for my suspicion. Vanya thought that my intriguing anomaly would be an ideal first test for his active resequencing technique, so he used Dr Loessings lab to design and synthesize the virus to mutate the target and an immunoinstigator to clean up any residue from the issue.”

“A mutavirus AND an immunoinstigator? On a LIVE subject? We've never even tested this on a living organism! We're still running simulations. And you just whip up a batch and test it? On one of our CO-FOUNDERS???” Dr Loessing was so agitated I worried he might have an aneurism.

“We can dick around with computer simulations until our funding runs out and still never run enough what-ifs to know anything. I have faith in my technique.” Sukharnov replied with a chilling calm.

“As do I.” I added. The faces turned to me were confused and dismayed.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?”

“I like to believe I do.”

“You can't know what this will do to you!”

“I have a reasonably good idea.”

“But you can't KNOW! Infinite things could go wrong.”

“I trust the odds. Dr Sukharnov is a diligent man. I believe I take a much bigger health risk grabbing lunch at that food truck down the block. It has been a week, and I have yet to encounter anything unexpected.”

“May we ask what exactly is the nature of the mutation?”

“I guess you could consider it a de-mutation. An abberent chromosome set being reset to a more standard value and ancillary artifacts being cleaned up by triggering my own immune system.”

“Ancillary artifacts? Like what? Are you talking about something like a prehensile tail or something?”

“Something like that” I smiled. “Only far less cute and waggy. And not necessarily external”

“You mean like a third kidney?”

“Let's just spare the embarrassing details and say superfluous biology.”

“And how are you feeling?”

“Fine. Tired. Like I'm coming down with a cold that never develops. Nothing bad to speak of.”

“Well, it's done. I guess we'll have to live with it.”

“No. I will have to live with it.” I smiled. “And I'm looking forward to it. No regrets.” I walked over and squeezed Vanya's hand.

“Do you know how much trouble we could get into if word of this leaks out to the FDA or NIH?”

“I don't plan to tell anyone. Do any of you? I'll be Dr Sukharnov's lab rabbit, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be a research subject for a bunch of government regulators.” I took a moment and made eye contact with everyone in the room. “One last item. I think we should plan a surprise party with large bonuses for the lab assistants.”

“Where did THAT come from?”

“They're still staring at us through the glass. The quicker they think we tricked them into leaving the room so we could discuss the size of their bonuses and a surprise party, the quicker they stop speculating on what we were really discussing.”

At long last, all 6 of us found something we could agree on. It was like old times.

The genome patch was so gradual I have no idea when the process actually completed. As for the 'vanishing boy bits' it was a curious phenomenon. The already unimpressive organs just shriveled and shrunk, seeming to withdraw back inside me. At some point I became aware of a ….reconfiguration... that gradually came to resemble a labia bordering a seemingly actual vagina. I felt a little self conscious exploring the area. I think because the sensations were so strong, I got the guilty feeling that I was playing with myself, which seemed vaguely sinful, so I resisted. Vanya was nowhere near as shy.

“OK. From what you say, I think everything is complete. It has been 90 days and you seem completely rid of any remnant of boy. Still no puberty though. I think maybe we need to give things a little push.” And he jabbed me with a syringe of 'kickstarter' he explained should reboot my endocrine system and get the process of puberty started. He then scheduled an appointment with an old medschool colleague of his. An OB/GYN.

Dr Walken remembered Vanya fondly and we shared stories of his antics. She seemed delighted to learn he had lost none of his mischievous spark during the years since medschool. I mentioned that I was new in town and observed that our company healthplan neglected OB/GYN coverage, not surprisingly since I was the only female on staff and it hadn't occurred to any of the boys. I told her Vanya recommended I contact her since I had come to trust his judgement and he assured me she is the best. At this Dr Walken rolled her eyes and replied. “I'll bet he doesn't KNOW any other gynecologists. He's always hanging out with researchers and theoreticians. He had little use for the messiness of the flesh.”

She asked me how long it had been since my last period. I confessed I had yet to have one. She was quite surprised, so I shared that Dr Sukharnov was using me as a research subject since I had an arrested puberty and he was experimenting with jumpstarting the endocrine system to invoke puberty. I confessed that that was why he suggested I see his old colleague, I didn't mention anything about the boybits or the growing the right parts procedure. After an excruciatingly thorough exam, Dr Walken pronounced me seemingly fit and fertile. She wanted me to schedule a followup after my first period and expressed confidence that Dr Sukharnov's work had triggered a latent puberty. She said on the next visit we would discuss birth control options. Oh my, something else I never imagined I'd be considering.

Once my coworkers realized I wasn't going to die grotesquely, and even before the final results on my procedure were in, they decided that Dr Sukharnov's gamble had paid off and the technology was safe and viable. It was decided the first product would be a greatly dumbed-down version of the methuseleh gene designed to treat (cure actually) progeria. We never used the word cure, only treat, since the investors liked the open ended model of treatment over the one time profit of a cure. As it turned out, all our products treated their target conditions so well, that no further treatments were ever required. But we officially didn't sell “cures”.

We started modestly. Outrageously modestly actually. We targeted the most devastating, intractable conditions, the ones that always made the posters for charity fundraisers. The diseases of children, the diseases that were the cruellest on their victims. In other words the diseases where there would be little resistance to radical approaches and the most publicity for 'miracle cures'. We attacked diseases of the underdeveloped world like dengue fever and ebola. Not for the money, for there was none, but not entirely out of altruism. These projects relieved suffering on a massive scale, but they also provided massive data points on the safety and efficacy of our approach, which made it far easier to gain approval with health bureaucracies in more 'developed' nations. That was our approach. Get a wedge into the easy part and pry it all open. Want to cure aging? Start with progeria. Want to regrow entire limbs and repair spinal cord and nervous system damage? Start by marketing a product to regrow hair. Each of these modest products was extensible. We were thinking big, but we had to start the world small.

It didn't feel small, we quickly became the hottest biotech incubator in the field. Reporters for mainstream magazines poured over our patent filings trying to parse what new medical miracles we were cooking up. We became embroiled in high finance and corporate intrigue as struggling competitors tried to tangle us in frivolous lawsuits and steal our staff and secrets. It was becoming big business and it was no longer much fun. My 5 colleagues had gone from researchers to division vice presidents and they seemed as miserable as I was. My 11:30 meeting was the catalyst for change.

Martin Sachs had that kind of vintage Robert Redford vibe of casual gravitas. He knew his stuff and didn't feel the neurotic compulsion to flaunt it. He seemed equal part tweedy academic, silicon valley hipster entrepreneur and sightly disheveled ACLU attorney. I wasn't sure what he wanted to discuss, but I was advised by my colleagues that if he wanted a meeting, I wanted to take it.

“Welcome to our no longer so humble facility” I greeted him as he was ushered in. “Can I get you anything?”

“Water, please.”

I walked over to the wetbar, a surprisingly useful fixture of a decadent executive office and drew him a glass of ice water,

“You know most executives would have a minion do that.” He observed.

“My minions are busy doing more important things. Like plotting our world domination.” I smiled.

He held the glass up to the light. “And most people would hand me a sealed bottle of water.”

“I hate plastic containers, especially for something like water. They're a blight on the planet, they leech petrochemicals into the water, and the source of the water itself is often difficult to ascertain. I can personally attest to the quality of the liquid and the safety of that glass. But if you'd like, I can pry a minion away from her schemes to run to the quickee mart and buy you a bottle of waterlike substance.”

He smiled. “I've met my fair share of corporate executives. In my experience. you are unique.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Good. Do you know why I'm here?”

“I'm counting on you to tell me. I only know that you're highly respected by people I highly respect.”

“Well, I will take THAT as a complement. Look, it's nearly noon. Can I treat you to lunch?”

“Actually my schedule's pretty packed, I really can't...”

He looked me straight in the eye and made a very serious face. “Clear it.”

I didn't hesitate. I buzzed my PA. “Tony. Reschedule the rest of today's appointments. Send my apologies. I'll sort it out with you when I return.” And with that we were off.

Dharma Diner was a vegan place in the artist district. Marty fit in somewhat, looking like a slumming professor, but I stuck out like a dowager at a rave. No one seemed to care.

“You know everyone is talking about your little rogue startup.” He said.

“I know. Why are we eating here?”

“Because this is the least likely place I could think of for anyone to have planted a surveillance device or spy”

“Spy! Are you joking?”

“There are some things you don't joke about. Look, I have no proof, but I know what I'd do if I were them.”

“Who is 'them'?”

“People who have finally realized just how disruptive your tech is. Corporations who stand to lose billions if you cure the diseases they lucratively treat, vested interests who use human suffering and inequality as a means of maintaining influence and leverage. Nations and agencies who have realized the ability to target and manipulate a specific genome is the ultimate perfectly targetable assassination tool, and on a broader scale an unprecedented bioweapon. Your little company is in any number of crosshairs. It's simply a matter of who squeezes the trigger first.”

I swallowed hard. This was extreme paranoia. But we were doing extreme things at A5. I knew we were every bit as disruptive as he said we were. I think Sachs glimpsed the true potential for our disruption. I was well aware of it.

“What you say seems outrageous, but I've become quite familiar with the outrageous at A5” I smiled. “If what you say is true, what do we do about it?”

“That's the tricky part. You have to be wilier than they are. They will try to steal your company and plunder the tech, either to bury the threat or to weaponize it. I'd like to offer to buy you out.”

“Pardon?”

“I represent a group of people who see the big picture. They know how the game is played, and that the revolution in biotech that A5 represents must remain viable if humanity is to lift itself out of its misery. Technically it's a non profit holding company, but what it really is is a conservator of tech too valuable to fall into irresponsible hands. I'm proposing that you donate 30% of your stock – for a sizable tax write off, and sell the other 70% to this list of industrialists, each of whom will then donate their portion of shares to the trust. The tax deduction should negate the capital gains from the sales. You will be a very, very rich woman. And you will be free of the soon to be drastically increasing burden of this corporate albatross. Assured in the knowledge that you've entrusted it to enlightened and responsible stewardship.

“I will have to discuss this with my colleagues.”

“By all means. It was they who suggested I approach you. I thought they would be the prime candidates, but they all recommended you. Especially since you own 51% of the company.”

“51%. That can't be possible. We were equal partners.”

“They diluted their shares at the IPO. But they insisted your stake be protected because they knew you would protect their creation... their... your... baby.”

“I had no idea.”

“I think that's how they wanted it. Never match wits with a group whose collective IQ tops four digits. They're not just bright, they've proven themselves wise... and that's much harder to quantify.”

“Well, I will have to talk with them, but from what you've already told me, it seems a bit perfunctory.”

“Then get on with the formalities and I'll await your call.” He handed me a card.

“It will be hard after all this time to just walk away and leave it all behind.”

“You may walk away, but you can never leave it all behind. Can you, subject zero?”

I went white. “How?...”

“Didn't your colleagues tell you I was good?”

“They swore...”

“They didn't. No one did. I'm good!”

“If you know, others must...”

“Not likely. They're not that good. Anyway they don't care about the company's history and origins, they only care about what they can plunder, and no offense, but you're not plunderable”

“Good to know.”

“That's why I told you. Now go talk to your colleagues and get back to me. Then think about how you plan to be a rich lady.” He smiled and picked up the check.

I had never planned to be a rich lady, but that didn't turn out to be a problem. In addition to being a good adviser, Marty Sachs became a trusted friend and hooked me up with some people who set up a trust where I could park my 'riches'. All I knew or cared was that I was now free to decide what to do with the next chapter of my life. I did take a few weeks to relax and reflect at a very isolated beachfront resort on a private tropical island. That was the only 'rich lady' thing I've yet done. There were a few bungalows and occasionally I'd catch glimpses of my “neighbors”. It was like living on the front page of a tabloid. Everyone I met was a reclusive celebrity or controversial mogul. I was determined not to gawk, since they were obviously here for the same solitude I sought. So it came as a surprise when, one of the celebutantes approached ME.

“Excuse me,” she said with her obviously mortified recent leading man on her arm. “I really hate to disturb you, I know how much it pisses ME off... but I just had to ask. Ethan says I'm crazy and what are the odds, but I'm convinced it IS you. Am I right?”

“Is it me? Last time I looked. In fact every time I've looked, I've been me. At least for the past few years” I smiled a little Mona Lisa halfsmile.

“See! I told you it was her!”

I looked at the guy.... “Who exactly does she think I am?” He smiled.

“See. I told you.” He nudged her very bony ribcage.

“Of course it's her. They don't let just anybody on this island. Hell, most people don't even know this place exists. How did she get here?”

“Oh, the usual way.” I smiled. “Cab. Plane. Watertaxi.”

“Excuse us miss. We didn't mean to disturb you. Kara just thinks everyone she meets is more famous than she is. I have no doubt that one of these days she's going to defect to the darkside and become the first celebrity paparazzo.” He was charming. And funny. I could see what she saw in him.

“It might help if you let me know exactly WHO you think I am?”

“Her! The girl from the internet.”

“Last time I checked, there were lots of girls on the internet. For all I know, every female on the planet is somewhere on the internet.”

“Don't I know it! No. You're the one from the blog everyone's buzzing about.”

“It would help if you could give me a name”

“You don't have a name! You're a mystery. That's part of the buzz!”

“I certainly DO have a name. Always have. No I meant the name of the blog.”

“Oh. Girl meets world.”

“Luc!” I broke out in a grin. He finally did it.

“Yeah. Luc Brossard. You KNOW him?” Kara asked.

“Of course she knows him stupid. She's his muse!” he snapped.

“His MUSE?” I smirked. This was getting more interesting by the minute.

“It is you. Right?” Ethan asked. I nodded.

“That was ages ago. One unforgettable summer. I didn't know he finally published it.”

“Oh yeah. It's HOT. You're hot! The book, the website, the videos. Say... that deodorant ad with the motorcycle... was that really you?”

“They let him use that? I knew he wanted it, but never thought he'd get it.”

“Oh yeah. There was a whole interview with the director....”

“...Jerry....”

“...yeah. Saying you were brought on for stunts and he thought the agency was nuts because the girl they cast for on camera was less hot that the one they hid under the helmet. And how he tried to work with you again, but no one knew how to find you until the blog. Now that Brossard guy says he can't help because he can't find you either. He says he never even knew your name. Is that possible?”

“Oh. He knows my name. ….and he definitely has my number” I smiled. “..always did. I guess it's my fault. I told him I'd help him, but wanted to remain anonymous. I had my reasons at the time. Mainly I didn't want to steal focus from his work.”

“But you ARE the focus of his work.”

“Hm. That was unexpected. So I'm a mystery, eh?”

“You are THE mystery. Everyone's trying to find you. Is that why you're hiding here?”

“No. Surprisingly. I'm here trying to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“With all the heat on your blog, I'd say anything – and everything you want!” Kara chirped.

“We are being so rude... I'm Ethan. Ethan Dale. And this is Kara. Kara Kendrick.”

“I know. I'm not from another planet. Pleased to meet you.”

“And YOU are?.....”

I smiled and hesitated just long enough to make them wonder if they were finally going to get their answer.

“Alexandra. Alexandra Crowe.” Hell, if I was a celebrity now, Alexandra sounds much more swank than Alison.

“Alexandra...” Ethan replied. “A real pleasure to meet you Alexandra. Honey, let's get a selfie with our new friend Alexandra Crowe!” Suddenly I was the slice of cheese in a celebrity sandwich, and I knew the rollercoaster of my life had just clanked to the top of another peak.

When I got off the plane back home and turned my mobile back on, I had four messages, all from the same California number. I didn't have to guess too hard who it was.

“Studio Brossard. How may I direct your call?”

“Luc Brossard s'il vous plait” I replied.

“Um. Excusez moi. Q'est ce que... I mean Comment....”

“I speak English ...if that is easier” I said still with a thick French accent.

“Oh yes. Thank you! Um Mr Brossard is not available at the moment. May I take a message?”

“Yes. I'd like to arrange a private shoot with Monsieur Brossard. Something ...discreet.”

“Mr Brossard is very busy, but I can direct you to one of his talented associates.”

“No. It must be Monsieur Brossard. Or I'll be forced to go elsewhere.” I was beginning to enjoy torturing this poor girl.

“Well, Monsieur Brossard is in great demand and will not be able to take your photograph.”

“Why don't you let Monsieur Brossard decide that, and get back to me.”

“Very well, but I wouldn't plan on it. May I have your name and a callback number?”

“Yes. My name is Alexandra Crowe, and my num..”

“Alexandra CROWE??? No shit!”

“Yes, shit.” Who knew it was so much fun cursing with a preposterous foreign accent? “Most definitely shit. My number is...”

“ONE MOMENT PLEASE!” click. Smile.

“OK, who is this really?”

“Is this really the famous Luc Brossard? Photographer of supermodels, celebrities and nameless waifs?” I kept the ludicrous accent.

“Sylvie! If you put one of your friends up to this I'll.....”

“If you didn't want to talk to me, why did you call me four times?”

“Shit! Allie?”

“Great talking to you too lover. So, I'm a mystery woman?”

“I thought that's how you wanted it? Anyway, you're a mystery no more. But what's with 'Alexandra'?”

“Ah. I was just messing with a couple of kids on the beach. Alexandra sounded more ...exotic.”

“Those weren't just a couple of kids on the beach. That's America's teenage heartthrobs. Hell, not just the states, most of the developed world.”

“That would explain why they were hiding in the underdeveloped world”

“Their celebrity selfie blew up instagram, and since then they've been making the rounds talking about their encounter with the “mystery muse” where you told them I had your number. I haven't gotten a moment's peace.”

“Mon cher, tu eu ma numéro toujours!” I made Luc chortle. I never heard him chortle. I liked it.

“It's so nice to know you still speak French. I swear people come up to me speaking English with a horrible French accent and think they're speaking French.” Now it was my turn to laugh.

“So you've been busy?”

“Crazy busy. First our project finished far better than I had ever dared dream. Then it just blew up online, and you became this celebrity enigma.... which I milked for all it was worth.”

“Bien sur.”

“Then people started coming out of everywhere to get a piece of the action. That deodorant company posted the footage, including raw footage of you putting on the helmet before the stunt, so I had to post an interview about that day and how you ended up there, then the stuntwoman who should have been on the shoot told how she just asked you to report her as sick, and expressed her confusion when she heard you filled in for her, and how when she saw my post and realized you weren't even a stuntwoman how she felt she could have got you killed. It's all gone viral. Then someone starts auctioning off those photos you'd have me print and use as postcards on ebay. And since you signed them all simply “A” and a little heart, you got even more mysterious as people got a letter but no name. Then these kids with their selfie, and suddenly A is Alexandra Crowe. Shit. This is all so crazy. I like to think I'm a good self promoter, but no one could engineer this. So yes. I'm crazy busy. And you could be too if you're interested.”

“Are you too busy for lunch?”

“For you? Never. Where?”

“I was thinking someplace secluded..... someplace very publicly secluded.”

Luc chuckled. “You are as devious as ever cheri.” I missed his chuckle.

L'Espalier was a nice little restaurant run by one of the Sonoma vineyard owners, a convenient little place for those touring wine country to break for a quiet little repast.... and a prominent tourist haunt. The scenery was breathtaking and the outdoor dining was designed so that there wasn't a non-photogenic seat in the house. Everyone who ever had to suffer through their friends' travel photos was sufficiently impressed by the pics from L'Espalier, that they were compelled to visit themselves. It was brilliant marketing, and a perfect spot for a public 'private' getaway. As soon as the first smartphone photos were posted on social media, and the facial recognition algorithms tagged Luc's and my face in the background, the rumour mill would get another hefty infusion of hype. ….And as a bonus, we got to have a long-delayed reunion.

“So you're through with school?”

“I wouldn't say ...through.... but the degree was a means to a career.... turns out the career predated the degree. Bill Gates dropped out of Harvard to form Microsoft, only to get an honorary degree decades later.”

“Oh. So now you're comparing yourself to Bill Gates?” My raised eyebrow was accusatory, but my smile was warmly sardonic.

“I'm just saying.... when your opportunity comes, you seize it. ...Even if it comes ahead of schedule. A college athlete won't turn down an NBA contract to play a couple years of varsity.”

“Ah, Now you're Lebron James? Can you compare yourself to Ghandi next and explain how you are way more humble?”

He laughed. “Why do you bust my balls?”

“Because I CAN” I smiled. “Because to me you will always be that slightly lost young man fighting with his iPhone who couldn't tell the difference between another visitor and museum staff.”

“And it never occurred to you that I knew all along, and it was just a clever ploy to meet the pretty girl dressed alarmingly like a museum worker?”

“You weren't that smooth ….at the time.” He broke out into a wide grin, and his eyes sparkled with delight.

“My God. How I've missed you.” he beamed.

“And I you. ...but clearly, you've been quite busy”

“And you? What have you been up to since we decided to....see others.” I could sense the pain in his voice and felt a twinge of guilt.

“Well. I got my documentation squared away and landed a job with a Swiss conglomerate that ended up becoming a lot more than I initially expected.”

“Of course. You're you. How could it not?”

I didn't know if he was complimenting or teasing... probably both... but I just ignored him.

“And as for the seeing others?” he inquired, somewhat hesitantly.

….well there were a few.... 5 actually... all coworkers....

“Five? It has only been a few years....”

“Not sequentially. I met them all separately, but finally managed to introduce them to each other and they all hit it off. We became inseparable.”

“All together? You and Five men?”

Heh, heh. I had him.

“Yes, It got so serious that we finally decided we had to make it legal.”

“Quoi?”

We all quit our jobs and formed a little startup called A5 research. I was the A, Doctors Chayapurna, Loessing, Sukharnov, Ortega and Koetsu were the five. We patented a few things and went public. I cashed out and went to the island to decompress and bumped into the selfie twins.”

“Wait. Wasn't A5 that company that claimed they have a cure for dengue fever and claim they will revolutionize cancer treatment?”

“They won't just revolutionize it. They'll obsolete it. They have a cure. Parkinsons, MS, Alzheimers...” I leaned over and whispered into his ear “even simple aging... They've done it already. In the lab. They're just pacing things because the potential disruption could be ….profound.”

“How can this be possible?”

“I don't know what to say. They are very, VERY smart and and imaginative people who got tired of being told what they couldn't do.”

“And your involvement in this....?”

“I knew them all from work, but they didn't know each other. I saw incredible potential synergy between their disparate research, so I simply played matchmaker. And they let me come along when they formed their startup.”

“They didn't just bring you along. You were the A. They were all just the 5. They obviously recognized your importance to the startup. It seems to me that you were the catalyst of it all.” He made me blush.

“Well, I was just happy to see these guys have a chance to show the world what they were capable of. And take it from me, I know firsthand. What they are capable of is beyond your imagination.”

“So while I'm off becoming a media darling, you are busy becoming a jillionaire executive?”

I laughed. “Yes. You've uncovered my backup plan for world domination.... in case this whole supermodel thing didn't work out.”

“Well, it appears your B plan was unnecessary. You seem to be quite the hot commodity.”

“I like hearing you say I'm hot...” I purred.

“Tres chaud cheri..”

“That's not me. That's the enigma you created. She's exotic and mysterious and unattainable.”

“And she has your face.”

“Ah, but she was a mirage. She didn't even have a name.”

“She does now.”

“Sorry about that. I had no idea. I never intended to sabotage your illusion.”

“Sabotage? Why it's blown up bigger than I'd imagined possible! You came along at just the right time, in just the right remote location and outed yourself to the one couple who could take your heat factor from smouldering to supernova. I'm sure conspiracy types are already shouting that this is some cynical master publicity scheme.”

I scoffed. “I wish we were that brilliant!”

“Moi aussi. So here we are. Having our quiet lunch, in a public place. Let's see if we have been 'made' yet....” he took out his smartphone and did an image search. “Shit. Your name still only brings up my work and that selfie.”

“What about your name? You've been doing all the publicity for your project, you should be all over the net and far more familiar to the recognition algorithms.”

“Ah yes. I am everywhere. But this is all from interviews and appearances.... gallery shows.... old stuff.”

“Sort by date.”

“Right. Ah. Yes. 4 minutes ago. Here we are behind that Asian couple posing for their Facebook post. I have been tagged. But not you.”

“Then tag me, lover.” I smiled.

“I can't. It's their page. I'm not their friend.”

“So friend them. Explain that you are in the background and would like to share their picture. I'm sure they will accept your friend request. Especially if they Google your name.”

So he did. But the confirmation didn't come. Instead, about 5 minutes later, the elderly couple themselves came up to our table.

“Excuse me. Pardon our interruption, but we received a friend request from someone claiming to be the person in the background in a photo. This has never happened before. Was this actually from you or is it another one of those ….what do you call them.... phishing schemes, where people try to steal identities?”

Luc laughed. “No. No scheme. I sent the request. I'd like to repost the picture, but to do that I must be in your online circle.”

“Ahh. I see.” the gentleman said. His companion was a bit more skeptical.

“How did you even know your picture was on our page?”

“There are bots that can alert you if you are mentioned online.” While true, Luc neglected to mention that this was not how he found the photo.

“Who would use such a tool? Celebrities? VIPS? Who are you to use such a tool?”

“Well, my photo was autotagged with my name. Click on my name and run a search.” Luc smiled.

The woman wrestled with her phone for a few moments while her companion watched over her shoulder. We could tell by their change in expression when the search results started pouring in.

“Apologies. We did not realize you were someone famous.”

“Nor should you.” Luc smiled graciously. “I just noticed that my companion here was not tagged, and I wanted to correct the oversight. But I couldn't do that until I was your friend.”

“Oh. I can tag her right now... what is your name dear?”

“Alexandra. Alexandra Crowe” Luc said. I spelled it out, since from their accents, English was clearly not their prime language. They seemed grateful for the spelling help.

“There you go honey. You are tagged too.”

“Thank you very much. You are very gracious to let us be in your photo.”

“Truthfully, we did not know. We just wanted to send a photo to our friends back home of this lovely place.”

“Well. Thank you for tagging us.”

“It is a pleasure. Are you famous too, my dear?”

I smiled coyly. “That is for others to decide.”

“Well then, may we have another photo with you two? With the four of us?”

“Here, we call them 'selfies'” I smiled as I grabbed the phone and held it at arms length while the four of us huddled together. The elderly couple grinning broadly, Luc looking slightly annoyed, and me smiling as enigmatically as I could muster.

“You played that brilliantly.” I smiled at Luc as the couple bade us farewell. “Letting them tag it so you never became their friend. No one will accuse you of planting that photo. And that look of annoyance when they took the picture.”

“You are not the only one who can pout for the camera. And where did you get that smile you used?”

“Some old Venetian woman. I hear she's in Paris now.”

“Ah.” He nodded vacantly. It took a few moments, but I could tell from his grin when he finally got my little joke.

“So,” Luc mused, “I imagine within an hour or two someone will flag the photo of our 'secret meeting', and the rumour machine will begin to build steam. I figure by tomorrow morning our phones won't cease ringing.”

“Your phone, sweetie. Remember, the only one who has MY number ...is you.” I touched the tip of his nose with my index finger.

“So you would like me to handle your management and booking?”

“I know it's not what you want to do with your life, but you handle your own bookings, no?” He nodded. “Well, just consider me another one of your assets that you are managing. If you like, have them book you, and I come along as just another piece of kit. They hire you, and one of the things you can offer them... is me.”

“That hardly seems fair. It is you they want. Not so much me.”

“Ah, but they wouldn't want me... they wouldn't even know I exist if not for you. This is your dream, your chosen career. I just did it as a lark. ….and because I had a crush on the photographer. I will continue to do it – with you – because it sounds like fun and it will be an adventure. I'm not doing it for the money. My ego is not that fragile that I crave the attention. It amuses me. And it gives me joy to see the attention you are getting. ...even if it is mistakenly attributed to me.”

“You are too gracious. But I am no fool. I accept your generous offer. I expect to have a number of preliminary project proposals by tomorrow night. I will prescreen them for you with an eye toward adventure and fun. No?”

“Perfect!”

“And money glamor and fame are not dealbreakers, no?”

“No, if they also involve money glamour and or fame, I will just suck it up and endure the hardships. I understand how much your reputation rides on this too. A boy has to eat.” I smiled warmly at him.

True to his word, Luc called on me the next evening with an embarrassing number of proposals. Most were quite intriguing and I had a difficult time passing on any of them.

“You know, you are committing to so many projects, you will hardly have a moment to yourself for the next 30 plus months.”

“Yes, but I've had plenty of time with myself. I'm bored with my own company. I'd much rather spend the next 30 months with you. ...if this even lasts 30 months.... fame is fleeting.”

“It can be. But it doesn't have to be. And something tells me you will be the one everyone is buzzing about until the fame no longer suits you.”

“As you wish master” I smiled, folded my arms and gave a 'Jeannie blink' that would do Barbara Eden proud.

“Hey, I thought you grew up without indoor plumbing, let alone TV. Where did you get that ?”

I laughed. “I felt like an alien visitor, I knew so little of the world. So I decided I'd be an alien anthropologist, and dove into my studies.” I smiled.

“Well, you are very, very good. No one would ever imagine who you once were.” Luc conceded.

I shuddered slightly at the thought.

“But one thing that has not changed. You continue to fill my head with thoughts.”

I blushed and batted my eyelashes. He furrowed his brow obviously not expecting this reaction. Then broke out in a loud laugh. “I meant, you are still my muse! You have the ability to inspire creative possibilities.”

I put on a mock pout and hung my head slightly. “Oh.... and I thought you were flirting with me.”

Luc leaned in, nuzzling the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply. He then lifted his lips to my ear and whispered “Cheri, have you not yet realized that whenever we are together it is all flirt, all foreplay?”

“...I like foreplay...” I whispered back.

“I have noticed” he smiled a little sadly, and sat back in his seat. “All right. Since you have given me another fabulous idea, I have calls to make and a schedule to set up.” He gave me a very serious stare. “You meant what you said before about wanting to do this?”

I returned his gravity with levity,smiling back sweetly. “Of course I meant it.” Then I lowered my eyebrows and returned his serious stare “I never joke about my work”. My poker face was about to crack when Luc's broke first and he erupted in a stupid grin, which I quickly echoed. He clapped his hands together.

“Well. Then, I have work to do. I have to reschedule my other clients and prepare my new special project.”

“Are you even going to give a hint what this special project is?”

“What is there to tell? After all, it WAS your idea!”

That was no help. I just smiled politely and tried to brace myself for the unexpected. Again.

It took about 10 days for Luc to set up the shoot. He already began working on sets and wardrobe before locking in a client. Only Luc would put creative before commerce, and still find a way to make it work. I was left completely in the dark, so I spent some time visiting my sister, helping her move in to her new home.

“I can't believe you came out to help me move. Especially after you bought me my dream home.”

“I'm happy to be in a position to help”

“No. I mean.... you're loaded.... so why didn't you just hire a moving company?”

“Ahhh.... you mean a team of brawny movers, all at your command?” I laughed. Connie blushed.

“Busted. You have no trouble finding your own firemen, soldiers, EMTs and other strapping specimens. Say, have you ever dated an astronaut?” I laughed.

“Well......” she held the suspense as long as she could “there was this one guy who claimed to be one..... but I found out later he was just embarrassed to admit he was an exotic dancer” I stared at her, trying to process this information. Then we both exploded in laughter.

“Oh, yeah. That's a MUCH more mundane line of work!” I sobbed with laughter.

“So seriously. Why didn't you just hire someone to help me move?”

“Because I wanted to help myself. I missed you. ...I miss ….this.” I said, my laughter still dying down.

Connie got all serious and gazed at me, her eyes welling up and her chin beginning to quiver.

“Jesus. I still can't believe how hard I forced you to be a boy. Can you ever forgive me?”

It was my turn to get serious. Placing a hand on each shoulder and staring into her eyes. “Hey. You were doing what you thought was right. You did it to me for a little over a week. I did it to myself for well over a decade. You were a much faster learner.” I smiled lovingly.

“Yeah. Well you were an insistent teacher.”

“More like an incorrigible student” I laughed. Connie nodded vigorously and burst out laughing too, pulling me in to a tight hug. “I'd like to see you do this with a brawny moving man.” Connie giggled. “No! Actually I wouldn't! Let me rephrase that....” at which point we both broke into uncontrollable fits of giggling. The rest of the move remained that light and silly. It was a great visit and a sorely needed break.

The visit passed much too quickly. Connie insisted on driving me to the airport. I don't think she was quite ready to say goodbye either. I promised that as soon as I got settled on the coast, I would insist that she come for a long visit. She pretended to balk, saying she couldn't make any promises, then asked if Luc knew any hunky straight models who could show her around. We laughed until it was time to go through security and wait alone for my flight. I then had time to begin obsessing over what Luc was planning for my big 'comeback' photo shoot.

I had to laugh when I realized what Luc had planned. The set was an alarmingly accurate recreation of Major Anthony Nelson's apartment, complete with an uncanny doppelganger of a young Larry Hagman. While the retro feel was spot on, my “Jeannie outfit” somewhat ….veered from cannon.

“Barbara Eden never showed her belly button” I observed.

“So we will never know if her ...'belly button'...” Luc seemed tickled at this English term “was as lovely as yours. Even before we plant the jewel in it.”

“Yes. Jewelry. I don't think Jeannie was this ...sparkly”

“They had a TV budget. Fortunately we have an ad budget.”

“Yes, with all that money, you would think you would be able to afford a bit more ...fabric?” I smiled.

“You told me to handle it. You said to treat you as just another piece of my kit.”

“Yes, master” I mock pouted in my best Barbara Eden.

“This is going to be fucking BRILLIANT” the leering ad exec who had been eavesdropping on our conversation blurted out.

Luc and I glanced at each other and suppressed our grins.

The shoot ended up being a campaign for an aspiring hipster vodka brand, and the 1960s Sidney Sheldon vibe immediately appealed to them when Luc pitched it. When they found out that I was to be the Genie, they signed without hesitation. Their whole campaign revolved around the slogan”You will never find a more magical bottle. Well, almost never” and involved our ringers of young Larry Hagman, Bill Dailey and Haden Rourke in classic Jeannie situations, only all revolving around conspicuous consumption of the client's vodka, while I pouted jealously at the vodka bottle that was captivating all the boys. It was great fun and a full 16 hour day, But by the time we left, everyone was happy and exhausted.

The next few months were a blur of airports and hotel rooms, with the occasional break for actual work. If one could call strolling up and down an exotic tropical beach in various skimpy swimsuits for a sports magazine's summer issue, running around the city of lights like an escapee from Marie Antionette's entourage for a Parisian Fashion spread, whirlwind shoots in Dubai, Hong Kong and Singapore for an Australian department chain ad campaign and even a visit to Venezuala's Angel Falls for a spread for an outdoors adventure outfitter “work”. I also got to do some TV and cook with a beloved fixture of Russian television, surf on an Australian magazine show, tour Hungarian castles for a newspaper spread, and visit French wine country... to meet Luc's family.

Even by French standards the Brossards were extraordinary. Phillipe and Sylvie were like the French version of Blake and Alexis Carrington. The essence of debonair. But behind their air of easy charm, I sensed something that could be easily be taken for aloofness.

I interpreted it as ...reticence. They had spent their entire lives constructing this image, the public face of successes and nonchalance, and they guarded their privacy... their faces behind the masks, quite seriously.

I could respect that. I think we quickly came to an unspoken understanding that I saw and respected the facade. I understood its necessity, and had no problem with it.

They would reveal what they chose when they chose and I would not pressure them to do anything until they were ready.

I think that tacit, unspoken understanding sped the process of family acceptance quite rapidly. They quickly seemed to begin to let their guard down, and as we came to know – and like - each other, things became much more casual, but no less extraordinary.

Neither Phillipe or Sylvie came from money. They weren't exactly urchins, just exceptional children of hard working but doting parents.

They met at Universite where Phillipe was studying Architecture and Sylvie in textile sciences. They came together in an extracurricular project to design rapid deployment shelters for victims of earthquakes and other natural disasters in the third world.

Between Phillipe's design skill and Sylvie's knowledge of materials, and serendipitously, love of origami, they designed a light, rugged pop-up shelter that was quickly adopted by aid agencies around the world.

Neither of them made a cent off of it, but that was never the goal. However the public praise they received jumpstarted their reputations and became the foundation stones of their separate careers.

After staying in touch over a decade, they rekindled the relationship once their careers were firmly established, and explored the romantic spark that always seemed just under the surface in their heady college days.

“Very much like you and our Luc” Sylvie chortled.

“Oh. I will concede there was always a frisson of attraction there, that summer, but neither of us acted on it. We didn't want to jeopardize our ...collaboration... which seemed something very special, and possibly fragile.”

Phillipe laughed genially as Sylvie touched his arm. “Mon cher. Could you describe our time together at Universite any more succinctly?” she inquired. He shook his head.

“It seems the acorn does not fall far from the tree.” he chuckled. “It is so ...ironic”

“Ssshh” Sylvie chided.

I was intrigued. “What?”

“It's just that...” he smiled and waved off Sylvie's glare “We love all our children. And they are all exceptional in their way. Gaston is a brilliant scholar, tactician and historian. He is destined to be a world-class diplomat, or even a leader. Elise knew she wanted to be in medicine since she was a small girl and has never wavered. She has a natural talent for it and is weighing many promising opportunities. Laure was what you would call a child prodigy. She would pick up an instrument she had never seen before and within moments bring such sweet sounds you would not know she had not been practicing for years. That child could practically coax music from a stone.” ..he paused and got a faraway look. He turned to Sylvie with a smile. “Do you remember the time she got into your fine crystal?”

She laughed. “I was furious! She had taken it all from the cabinets and spread it across the tables, filling each goblet with water. I was about to take her over my knee when she dipped into a fingerbowl and began circling the rims, and the house ...resonated... with Pachelbel's Cannon!”

They both stopped and smiled at each other, lost momentarily in a shared memory. I marveled at this extraordinary couple and their equally extraordinary family.

“Ah.” Phillipe came back to the present. “Well, all of our children showed a talent, and an inclination very early on.”

I knew where this was going. “But Luc....”

Phillipe sighed. “He was every bit as bright as his siblings. He showed a natural ability for anything he tried his hand at. We never for a moment doubted that his talent would be the equal of his siblings. But he....”

“Lacked direction” Sylvie interjected.

“He was just a late bloomer” I proffered. “I know a little about that myself”

They both chuckled.

“Yes. Luc has told us a little about you.” Sylvie smiled.

“A little?” Phillipe raised an eyebrow.

“Well, what did he tell you? Maybe I can fill in some gaps.” I suggested.

“Well, he tells us that you were raised in a primitive cult until you escaped as a teen”

I smiled. “It was hardly a cult. Simply a strict religious community that spurned many so called 'modern conveniences' as distractions from the way pious people were intended to live. And I didn't escape. I went on a ritual coming of age pilgrimage to find myself and meditate on my life's path before returning. It's all very traditional. Hardly a cult.”

“Eh.” Phillipe waved it off. “But the fact that you did not return.....”

“I don't consider it a failure. I didn't see it as a pass-fail test. There were no wrong answers. I see it as a ...personality test... I found myself. AND I found my path. It just wasn't a path I ever could have imagined when I started.”

Sylive smiled. “Life is like that sometimes.” When I looked in her eyes, I saw unguarded warmth. Any earlier ...reticence.. was gone. I returned her smile.

“And shortly after I found myself. I found Luc. Or maybe he found me. I prefer to think we found each other.” I couldn't hide my smile and had no desire to. The Brossards both saw it and responded.

“I love the story of the art museum. Is that really how it happened?”

“I don't know exactly what Luc told you, but yes. He thought I was a museum worker and I thought he was a....” I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase it to his parents “...chiot perdu”.

They laughed heartily. Sylvie then asked “How long did it take you to know that he spoke fluent English?”

“Well, he had me for a while. But I began to suspect when my friends were talking about him as if he was invisible. He kept a pretty straight face, but he seemed to be enjoying it. They would be mortified if they ever knew. By the time I met him at the theater that evening, all pretense was down. It was actually a pretty clever ruse pretending to have trouble with his phone”

“Oh no, I believe that part was true. But when the pretty English girl came over to help, he just...”

“Seized the opportunity?” I smiled.

“Exactly!” Phillipe nearly shouted. And just as suddenly he got very quiet. “And he found his muse.” The Brossards clasped hands and shared a moment between them. Again, I felt there was a personal backstory that I was not privy to, But it seemed a precious moment between them so I sat quietly and left them to it.

“So!” Phillipe clasps his hands.“Magical summer. Luc comes back to boast about this girl he met, and the big things he will do with his life, and how he is so looking forward to beginning school in the States. And suddenly he has...”

“...found his direction” Sylvie smiles. I love the way they finish each others sentences.

While I was touched by their warm gazes, it went on a little too long and I began to squirm. They must have noticed.

“So. What did you do after that summer?” Sylvie asked politely.

“Well. I returned to Chicago and moved in with my sister. Eventually I got work as a clerical assistant with an international conglomerate, and joined some coworkers to form a small startup. Which met with some success, and no longer needed what I could offer, so I took some time to decide what I wanted to do next with my life, and circumstances led me back to Luc.”

“You make it all sound so ...mundane. The story Luc tells is much more impressive.”

“There's nothing impressive about my life. Except finding your son.”

“And so modest too! How did Luc find such a girl? Tell me dear. Are there more like you at home?”

The laugh exploded before I could stop it. “I surely hope not!” It was spontaneous and I instantly regretted it would come off like vanity. Mercifully, it did not seem to be taken that way.

Having hit it off so well with Luc's intimidating parents, I was a little more relaxed about meeting the rest of his family when they came up for the weekend.

They were all charming and gracious, just like their parents. Someone with a fragile ego could easily be intimidated by this group of stunning overachievers. Still, I could feel the pressure of parental approval on each of them.

Gaston was the ever gracious diplomat and I could tell immediately he would go far. His companion seemed to be just another accessory in his travel kit, but she seemed nice and had her own reasons for being the arm candy of an obvious up and comer.

Elise traveled alone and conceded she was such a science nerd that she was focused on her career and not her love life. She figured she had plenty of time for that, and suddenly started telling me about this radical new company that was doing amazing things with genetic reprogramming and she wondered if they grasped the obvious-to-her implications for completely halting and maybe even reversing human aging.

“They call it the Methusula Gene. And yes. They grasped it from the beginning. The only thing holding them back is the politics and the ….disruptive... nature of such technology”

“How can you know this?”

“I used to work with Doctors Chayapurna, Sukharnov,... well you know them. I used to work with “the Five” as they used to call themselves.”

“Yes. The story is that is why they named their company.... Wait! You used to work with them Ali?”

I sensed the light bulb going off. I nodded sternly.

“YOU'RE the 'A'!”

I nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Merde! Ces't incroyable! Why did you walk away?”

“The science has been done. The real obstacle is political and financial. Too many interests stand to lose too much if this world changing technology actually works. Which it does.”

“You're sure?”

“Certain. We've done it in the lab Cured cancer. Reversed aging. So far the only thing that's made it to the market is a hair regrowth formula, and that was only after convincing the powers that be that the lost revenues from the hair transplant industry would be miniscule compared to the expanded hair products market. The science turned out to be easy. It's the politics that's proving to be hard. It sure would be handy for future leaders in their fields like you and Gaston to take up this cause and make sure these world changing miracles see the light of day and don't get perverted into devastating bioweapons”

Her eyes went wide. “I hadn't even thought of that!”

“We have. And there are safeguards in place, but our opposition is formidable and widespread. This technology needs all the allies it can get.”

“And you know this works.”

“Absolutely certain.”

“How can you be so sure? Lab results are a good indication, but...”

“Have you heard of 'subject zero'”

“Sure. Who hasn't? It's an urban legend.”

“No. It isn't. I mean they aren't.”

“You really did live tests on a human subject?”

“Yes. We did. So I know it works.”

“You mean the 5 scientists did.”

“Well, actually it was only one scientist. And me”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me?....”

I nodded.

“I find this very hard to believe. First to be told that subject zero is NOT an urban legend. And then for you to imply...”

“I'm not implying. I'm declaring. I was subject zero. I never had a moments hesitation. I knew how brilliant these guys were. I trusted them with my life. And they saved decades of testing and bureaucracy. I understand your skepticism. You wouldn't be much of a scientist otherwise. Would you like a polygraph?”

“A cheek swab would be more useful.” she smiled.

“Get a kit. I'll wait.” I replied patiently.

“No. That won't be necessary. I believe you. Why would you make that up? What could you gain?”

“Not a thing. And a lot to lose. So I'm trusting you to doctor patient confidentiality, ok?”

“But you are not my patient.”

“OK. Get that swab kit. Then I will be.”

She smiled. “OK. You're my patient. My FIRST patient by the way. Wow. My first patient was urban legend 'Subject Zero'.... and I can't tell a soul!” Her face went a little sad.

“You never know. Someday you may. And I'm sure by that time that will be the least interesting thing about your career. Seriously, if you ever want to talk or consult with any of the Five, just let me know. I have a feeling you would hit it off. And they trust me when it comes to bringing people together.”

Well, I had undoubtedly won over Elise. Gaston had been tactfully unopposed to me. Next up was Luc's twin, Laure.

She was the least reserved of the entire family and we hit it off immediately. How could anyone not instantly fall in love with this girl? She was so full of life and joy and unrestrained curiosity. She was the embodiment of the term 'free spirit'.

“So you're the muse?” she beamed as she bounded up to me. I tried to return her smile, but could not match the sheer intensity. “I wish I had a muse.”

“I can't imagine you'd need one. You seem to be your own muse.”

“You know, you're right! Very perceptive. I can see why everyone likes you.” somehow, her smile got even wider. She practically skipped out to the stone terrace overlooking the green rolling hills. I somehow knew I was expected to follow.

“You're parents are delightful. Your sister is scary smart but easy to talk to. Luc is... well...” I blushed.

Laure giggled.

“But I don't think Gaston likes me.”

“Oh. Gaston doesn't like anyone. He doesn't dislike you. And that's about as good as it gets from Gaston. Even with his own family.” I could see her processing something. “See! Gaston already treats you like family!” she grinned.

“I like the way you look at things.”

“Sometimes the only thing you have control over is how you see things.”

“And so wise too. So why aren't you a philosopher?”

Laure scowled. “Too QUIET!” Then she furrowed her brow and rested her chin on her fist “And too many wrinkles!” and the carefree grin returned. How can anyone not love this girl?

“So the boys must be knocking each other over for your attentions.”

“Meh. Artboys. They're ...fun... but it's all about them. Their installation, their performance piece, their rent money”

I nodded.

“Nothing against boys, but I'm having too much fun with my music. I get to travel across the E.U. Play with amazing orchestras, attend amazing festivals and events.... boys are... too much work.”

I nodded.

“Still, I like to think about my amazing wedding. With a full orchestra, total age of opulence thing. The ultimate performance piece before a select hand-picked audience. Oh the things I could do....”

“And you will” I smiled.

“Not anytime soon, I hope!” and we both laughed. I could not imagine this effervescent sprite sitting still for the duration of a wedding service, let alone settling into a domestic life. Not anytime soon.

The weekend seemed to be going well, and I kind of hated the thought of leaving. It was ...tranquil, here. But not boring. I could see why the Brossards settled here, and why for the children, wherever their careers took them, this was always “home”. I started to get all sentimental and had to check my mental calendar. Yeah. That would explain it. That and the fact that this was a marvelous and welcoming family.

Sunday was quite an affair. I accompanied the Brossards to Catholic Mass which was really something for a reasonably pious kid who never missed services at our very humble clapboard chapel. I marveled at the ways different people interacted with the Divine. But I figured a Creator who was capable of peppering the world with such diversity warranted nothing less than equally diverse methods of praise. The setting was an ancient French Cathedral and the majesty of the ritual perfectly suited the surroundings.

After Mass we returned for a sumptuous formal Sunday dinner. I don't know if they did this because they had company or if it was a weekly routine, but the ritual and pageantry of the meal was every bit as impressive and overwhelming as the church service.

Even though I had only known them for a few days, there was already an ease between us. It felt as if we had been doing this for years. Stupid PMS. I was getting overwhelmed with emotions sharing the table with this wonderful family. I asked to be excused and stepped out to the terrace for air. I was NOT going to blubber in front of everyone.

Luc came out and caught me mid sob.

“Hey. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just... your family has been so welcoming, and I... I really like them.”

“Even Gaston?” That broke my sobs, and I nodded and giggled.

Luc held me and looked me in the eye. “And they like you too. No that's wrong. They adore you.”

“Even Gaston?” I smirked.

Luc shrugged “Meh. No one can ever tell with him.” and we both laughed and hugged.

“Now that my family's so taken with you, I don't think I could get rid of you if I wanted to. They would never forgive me.”

“So don't ditch me for the next pretty muse that comes along.”

“Wouldn't dream of it. In fact...” it was then that I saw everyone standing together at the glass doors to the terrace, arms around each other ...except Laure, who was bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. I turned back to Luc just as he dropped to one knee....

The next 20 months were a blur, between fulfilling Luc's photoshoot schedule and planning the wedding. The Brossard women were marvelous. Laure may have no intention of settling down, but she had been planning her storybook wedding since she was 9. She was more than happy to executive produce her fantasy wedding, especially since she got to have all the “fun” and avoid the “till death do us part” bit. I was happy to play the lead in her production, since nothing in my life prepared me for planning my own storybook wedding. Back home it would be a simple, humble affair in the chapel. A festive meal and celebration, then back to the farm chores the next day. I didn't crave the pageantry, but I didn't mind it either. It was the latest unbelievable adventure in the unfolding miracle that was my life since Rumspringa. Since the family of the bride traditionally paid for the wedding, and money was not an issue for me, I told Laure to dream big. As if she needed to be told.

Luc approached me gingerly about the subject, but I quickly dispelled any misgivings he may have had about turning my “Bride phase” into yet another opportunity for Studio Brossard to expand into even more areas of fashion and style photography. While Laure was still in charge, she now had minions from throughout the industry who were competing to be on the roster of the buzz machine's latest hot celebrity wedding.

It was a storybook event. I think most of the village was there, which was fine with me. My side of the church only had my sister Connie, and about a dozen friends and coworkers and spouses from A+5, and Martin Sachs. I was surprised and flattered that he came. He told me at the reception that he was surprised and honored that I'd asked. He's a good man and a great steward, and the world needs more like him. Connie didn't mind that I kept three open seats for Temperance, Felicity and Chastity. We knew that they couldn't come even if they wanted, but if word ever got back, I wanted them to know that they were there in spirit... in the front pew right next to my big sister.

The town hadn't changed a bit. I was overcome with the memory of the six of us waiting for the bus to carry us off on the great adventure that was to be our Rumspringa.

Luc had insisted on seeing where I grew up before we returned to France to begin the next phase of our adventure, so once I got his word that we would simply be tourists and have no interaction with “the natives”, we rented a car and I directed him to my hometown.

He loved the “ruralness” of it. The stark simplicity. The unambiguous blacks, whites and grays of everything. I think he regretted shooting color and mused out loud about going for an Ansel Adams look with his finished photo essay.

He was off shooting sheds or tines in fields or something, while I lingered behind. I couldn't gallivant the way I used to, and he graciously left me behind. I smiled when I walked into the grocery store and saw more of our last 30 months of projects smiling out from the magazine rack. “..Even here...” I thought to myself. I wondered if Tem or Felicity ever came in for supplies and spied the smiling face on the magazine cover and smiled back secretly.

Suddenly a loud uproar came from the door and this ...whirlwind... of children scattered every which way with a very harried, very pregnant woman lagging in their wake. One of the littler ones, I'd guess 3 or 4 careened into me, sending his straw hat flying down the aisle and his mop of unruly brown hair spewing like a broccoli sprig.

“Zephram!” The woman scolded. Pick yourself up. What do you say?

He looked up at me with big sincere eyes and said in his tiny voice “Sorry Ma'am.”

I couldn't help but smile and pat him on the head.”It's alright. No harm done. Just slow down and be careful.”

“Yes ma'am” and he hung his tiny head,

“Now go get your hat and find your brothers and sisters.” I patted his back and gently propelled him in the direction of his hat. He looked up at me, smiled and scurried off.

“I'm SO sorry. He's usually so well behaved. He's just excited. It's the first time we let him join us on a trip into town.”

“I understand. Yours?”

She smiled.

“All of them?”

She startled. “Oh, heavens NO! ...Well, four of the seven. I have four.”

“Counting?” I looked down at her swelling belly.

“No. Five soon.” she smiled sheepishly.

“Very soon.”

She smiled and lifted her eyes upward. “From your lips to his ears!”

There was a ….dare I call it a pregnant pause?

“And what about you?” she smiled.

“My first”

“Ah...” she nodded and smiled a cheshire cat grin.

“What?” I asked smiling back.

“You'll see. I wouldn't want to spoil the fun.”

“Fun, is it?”

“Oh yes, actually. The hardest work you will ever do. But also the most rewarding, On the hard days, keep remembering the best days. They get you through.”

“Thank you miss....”

“Um, Chastity.”

“What a lovely name. So ...biblical. But a little unwieldy. Do your friends call you Chastity, or does anyone ever shorten it to something... like Chaz?”

She looked at me for the longest time without saying a word, then her eyes got far away and I began to worry that I broke her. Suddenly she was yanked back to earth.

“Chastity!” The woman barked as she strode through the door. “Round up your brood. We're waiting outside!”

“I have to go home now.” she said to me almost apologetically, and waddled off to fetch the children.

I walked over to the other woman. “It was my fault. I roped her into conversation and got her all distracted.”

“Don't blame yourself. It's not that hard.” she smiled. Then she kind of froze with the smile still half on her face. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. “I'm sorry. Do I know you from someplace? You... look....”

I backed over to the magazine rack and held the swimsuit issue next to my face.

“Ohmigosh! That's where I've seen you!” then she took a good look at me and smiled. “I guess that was a while ago.”

“Almost a year” I smiled. “Hi Tem.”

She gasped, and for a moment I was afraid she'd forget to start breathing again.

“H..H...How? How do you... I mean how does a swimsuit model know me?”

I smiled and opened the magazine to the masthead and credits including the cover page. Handing it to her with my finger placed by the credits.

“Photo Luc Brossard. Model Alexandra Crowe?” She still wasn't getting it.

“Eight years and you haven't changed a bit.” I gazed at her warmly. She looked back more perplexed than ever. “Neither has Luc. He's every bit as dashing as that day we met him at the museum. I on the other hand...” and I patted my swollen belly.

“Alexandra? ...Allison? ….Lee-”

“Everyone just calls me Ali. God, I've missed you Tem.” and I wrapped my arms around her.

“But. How... Wh..HOW???...”

“Luc wanted to see where I grew up before we flew back to France. Oh, I wish you could have been there Tem. It was a storybook wedding. We saved places for you Felicity and Chas. You were there in our hearts. If you ever see Connie, she can tell you all about it. It was lovely. More than I could have ever dreamed.”

She touched my belly and jumped back with a start.

“Yeah, she does that a lot. Well, I say “she” because I really do want to name her Serendipity. But it could be a boy. ...never want to jump to conclusions” I smiled. “One thing for certain, this baby is going to grow up to be a kickboxer!”

Temperance just stood back trying to compose her thoughts. “But. But HOW?”

I inhaled deeply and locked her gaze. “I'd heard the phrase all my life, but until I left with you for Rumspringa I never grasped the enormity of the saying 'God works in mysterious ways'.”

I wrapped my arms around her and gave her another strong hug. “I can't begin to thank you”

She looked at me blankly, I think she was still stunned and overwhelmed and trying to wrap her head around everything.”Thank ME?” She truly didn't know. “For what?”

“...for my LIFE!” I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her for dear life. My life. She spread her arms around me and we both held onto each other until we were unceremoniously broken up when the baby started kicking like crazy. We broke apart and erupted in laughter, overcome with wonder and joy at the ways the world can always exceed imagination.