A young boy recieves a mysterious watch for his birthday and his life will never be the same again.

Chapter 1
The Watch

By Jesse Rabbit

Its funny. All it takes is a second and your world can change completely. I know. Mine did. My name is Elan Owen, for reasons which should become clear sooner or later, and my life is now, officially, very strange.

It all started, the strangeness not my life, two weeks before my eleventh birthday; when my grandfather, Horace Winter (yes that Horace Winter, the billionaire mad-scientist inventor) died. You probably heard about it, it was in all the papers. So anyway, after the funeral - which for being outside in the middle of October was remarkably warm and free of rain - we, that being my parents Grace Winter (48, Mathematician) and Ethan Owen (51, Robotics Designer), my sibs Lawrence (22, third year Georgetown Law), Samantha (15, Claremont High School junior), and Pig (really Michelle or Mike, 8, pain in the butt, in training to be an Olympic Gold-medalist in Obnoxious Little Sister.) as well as my aunts (Lacy and Tricia not Tracy), my uncle Robert, and their broods (9 assorted cousins all stinky) trooped off to the office of one Byron Percival Sledge, esquire. The reason? Well said lawyer was the executor of grandpa's will and to make a long story short, all four of Grandpa Horace's children got great heaping wodges of cash (not that any of us needed it, but my parents tell me you can never have enough money). After boring all us kids for hours telling us which adult got what house, boat, plane, company, patent, lab, or whatever; Mister Sledge finally announced that Grandpa had left each of us with a present specially made of each of us and that we would each receive ours on our next birthday. Then he made each of us sign these paper's which said that none of us would contest the will or any part of it and that was that.

Now, as I said, my birthday was only two weeks later, and aside from my promised birthday present I hadn't gotten anything out of the will cause my parents said that all the money for me was going into a trust until I graduated college, ick, more school. So anyway, November first rolls around and I have this huge party which starts at like 10 in the morning and an hour and 1 minute later everyone starts singing Happy Birthday to you, with some very colorful lyrics and then by best friend Karen hits me over the head with a wiffle bat and I have to chase her around for about six hours, stopping only to eat cake and ice cream, and smash a piá±ata and have a water balloon fight, and before I know it the party is over but its okay cause I'm completely drained and very full and sleepy and everyone's gone home and I have a ton of presents to open tomorrow cause in my family we don't open presents at the party cause that will make people jealous or feel bad if I like one present more than the other and anyway they might get stolen or damaged and then I'd be upset.

So I'm just about to go to bed when there's this knock on the door and it turns out to be Mister Sledge and he's got this little box for me. Well mom says that I can open it but "then it's straight off to bed young man". I think she was just looking forward to seeing what the present was. So I let the box scan my thumb print and it pops open and there's this really cool looking watch, all shiny black and everything. So I reach out for it and as I touch it, it kinda jerks and then it like climbs my hand and slips round my wrist all on it's own. Whoa! My grandfather was so strange.

Mister Sledge explains that the watch is completely water proof and has lots of features and can only be worn by me which is so cool. He also says that it won't come off so that I don't have to worry about loosing it like I have my last two (and first two) watches. My mom asks something stoopid about how will I wash up with it on and Mister Sledge explains that the watch moves up and down my arm if I push it, so I spend like ten minutes slipping it up to my shoulder and back down to my wrist, over and over again.

Then he gives me a book that says "For Elan's Eyes Only" and has a palm scanner on the back cover. I crow with glee and dash upstairs to get ready for bed and then have to come back down, say goodbye to Mister Sledge, kiss mom and dad goodnight, and say goodnight to my evil sisters who I'm supposed to kiss but there's like not enough money in the whole world. Gah. So after my shower I slip into bed, planning on reading my instruction manual but I guess I was too tired cause the next thing I know it's morning and I have to get ready for school. So I go to my bathroom, brush my teeth, change clothes, put the dirty clothes in the hamper and get my bags and head school. It's three miles from my house so I ride my bike and Karen lives like three doors down with her dogs, Zorba and Abroz, I'm not even kidding. In fact their full names are Zorba the Greek and Arboz the Keerg. Karen's parents are sooooooo weird, but what can you expect from people born in the 1980's.

As we ride Karen teases me cause I'm now eleven years and one day old, but I point out that it's not for four hours and she grins and I'd have hit her but I can't while riding.

So everything goes like usual, school sucks, it's too easy even though I'm in all advanced classes and have skipped two grades and I can't wait till I get home so I can open my presents. So I'm at lunch, I have first lunch which is at 10:30 and my watch starts beeping at me. So I look down and it says 10:55 and then the time screen clears and it says, I kid you not, "Quietly go to the bathroom, Alone. Tell no one about this message." So I do, cause this watch is from my grandpa and he was nuts but never hurt anyone, that I know off. So I get my bag, tell Karen I'll see her in last period and go to the bathroom.

When I get there it's 10:59 and when I look at the watch it has a little countdown going. The face clears long enough to print "Go into a stall, lock the door, sit down and whatever happens don't scream." Scream? Huh? What the? I do as the watch says, really confused now, and wait, I have only 30 seconds left when I realize that this must be some kinda surprise from my grandpa cause in 25 seconds I'm going to be 11 and 1 day. So I relax, big mistake… huge… but I don't know what I could have done to prevent it at that point. So the watch beeps 11:01 and for eleven seconds plays happy birthday while tingles rush through my body. I mean real tingles, like sticking your finger into an electrical socket tingles. And then it happened. My body kinda wriggled inside and changed. And that was it. I looked down at myself and shrugged, "Scream? What for?" Then I saw the watch face and it said "Change Complete".

"Change? What change?" I got up and my hair fell down around my shoulders… which was really strange cause my hair was short, like only 4 inches long. I unlocked the stall door, ran over to the mirrors and gasped. My hair was long, really long, like girl long. And My ears had little holes in them, two in each lobe, and my nose and chin were slightly slimmer, and my eye brows thinner, and my lips just a touch fuller. And my adams apple was gone, you know, that bump in your throat? Gone, completely gone, I even felt for it. I nearly jabbed myself in the throat when I realized that my nails were longer, not that much, just about an eight of an inch past the finger tips. It was then that I had a horrible thought and ran back into the stall, locked the door again, and pulled down my pants and underwear in one motion, and then I screamed, even though the watch had told me not to. I just had to, I mean you would have too, if you had suddenly found out what I had just found out. "It's gone," I whispered, and it was. I sat down on the seat, breathing hard and fast. It was true, I was a girl.

---

To be continued in part 2 - The Girl in Boy's clothing.

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

What would you do if you suddenly changed Gender in a public place? That's the question that now faces our intrepid young lad/lady.

Chapter 2
The Girl in Boy's Clothing

Elan Owen - Part 2: The Girl in Boy's clothing.

Now, there I was, leading a perfectly normal life - well, mostly, aside from being a genius from a family of rich mostly insane geniuses, being the youngest, and smallest, person in my grade, having a best friend who was two years older than me and a girl at that - and then this happens too me. I've been turned into a girl by my dead insane grandpa, or at least by his watch. What the hell was I gonna do?

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

I just sat there on the toilet seat, completely stunned, unable to think of anything besides the fact that I had suddenly changed gender for no reason I could imagine. I - Elan Owen - born a boy, lived as a boy for the last eleven years, was a girl. What the HELL was I gonna do?

Well apparently I was going to sit on that toilet seat with my pants and underwear around my ankles until doomsday, cause my brain was too busy gibbering and screaming inside to be bothered controlling my body. So it just sat there going "bu…bu…bu…bu…" very softly. WHAT THE HELL WAS I GONNA DO?

The sound of pounding feet finally broke me out of my stunned state, at least enough to not scream again when the door to the bathroom swung open so hard that all the mirrors over the sinks rattled and the paper-towel dispensor fell open, dumping them all over the floor with a fwumping noise. Instead I just jumped like a meter into the air and banged my head against the wall.

"Is everything okay in here?" I heard this booming male voice ask and I realized that as bad as things wee at this moment, they would get much, much worse if Mr. Jankowski - whose voice that was, and who was the biggest rectum at the school, and who had taught my least favorite class last year (Russian, yerg, gah!) - if Mr. Jankowski opened the stall door and saw me half naked and a girl.

So I panicked for about a second, then - still panicking - pulled up my pants, almost ripping my Darth Grell boxers in the process, hastily tucked my shirt and sweater into my pants, tugged my belt tight fastening it one hole further along than normal, and called out, "Yes Mr. Jankowski, a spider just landed on my head is all. Sorry sir." I absently realized that my voice sounded a little higher pitched than before, maybe half an octave or so. For a moment I was thrilled, maybe I could be lead soprano in choir now (At Cascade Middle lead always goes to a supra-soprano and I was only meso-before.) before I remembered that the reason I could now sing at a higher pitch was cause I WAS A GIRL!

Mr. Jankowski demanded I come out so he could see that I was okay - and that I wasn't doing drugs or playing with myself or torturing another student or something but he didn't say that part. So I tried to straighten myself up, grabbed my bag, and opened the door. Mr. Jankowski was standing there, towering and glowering - he's really good at that cause he used to be a Marine and he is like six foot nine and has this huge scar over one eye. He scanned the stall with his good eye and then, once he verified that it was clean and clear he turned his gaze on me. I felt like melting into my Doc Martens.

"I see no spi…" He started and then began turning red. I quaked in my Docs, supressing a whimper, but stumbled backward a step. I nearly peed myself I was so scared. Then he growled in this low, rumbly voice, "This is the boy's room. Girls are not allowed. If I ever catch you in here again, misssss…."

I realized that he was trying to remember my name and frantically raced through the list of 6th grader girls I knew before my mind settled on the most obvious choice. "Of course!" I nearly chortled in mad glee, but restrained it using a mental trick my grandpa showed me when I was seven. He said it had kept the men in white coats from dragging him to the loony farm more times than he had had hot lunches. Keeping my face clear of laughter, which at that point would most likely have degenerated into hysterical sobbing very quickly, I said "Michelle Owen, Sir."

Mr. J nodded and grunted, "You're Elan's kid sister?" I paused and then nodded, having to check the logic in my mind. He continued without seeming to notice the pause "I had him last year in Russian. You gonna be in my class Missy?" I shook my head a little to rapidly and he laughed, a big booming, thundering laugh, which caused the mirrors to rattle again. "Elan told you horror stories huh? Well, get along to class with you, and don't be going to the boy's room again, Clear?"

I nodded so hard that my head nearly came off and was about to flee the room when Mr. J stopped me with a huge hand on my shoulder. "Your sweater is tucked into your pants. You might want to fix that before the other girls make fun of you." I nearly choked, Mr. J being nice? The world was going all strange on me, but then again, five minutes ago I was a boy, so I guess this was par for the course. I nodded mutely and pulled the sweater free as I hurried down the hall towards the band room, not looking back.

As soon as I turned the corner, I slumped against the wall, clutching my chest and shuddering all over. What in the name of all that was unholy was I gonna do?

I looked around, knowing that the first thing I was going to need to do was find someplace quiet and private to think. My room would be best, but that was three miles away by bike and the bikes were right in front of the school office, where anyone could see me taking it and bugging out early. But I couldn't go to class, couldn't go to the office claiming I was sick, couldn't stay here cause the lunch bell was going to ring any second and then the halls would be flooded with students and they'd all know that I was a girl…

Then it hit me, they would know that I was a girl, but they wouldn't know the girl was Elan Owen, at least not unless they looked close. So all that left was what to do until I could get home and where could I hide and think.

The bell rang then, nearly causing me to scream again, but I clamped both hands over my mouth and all that came out was a mild squeak. The halls flooded with students heading from class to second lunch or heading back to class from first lunch. I slipped into the stream of prospective lunch eaters and wound my way towards the library.

As it turned out I was paying a little too much attention to getting to the library that I collided with someone rather hard and went down like a bag of flour. I looked up and flushed bright red as I realized that Jim Golwar, Davis Hastings, and Tyrone Bigs-Major, the three coolest boys in school (not to mention toughest and most athletic, Jim being on the softball and track teams and Davis and Tyrone being on soccer and track teams. Tyrone also did swim.) were all staring down at me. I gulped, figuring that I was in for a beating for colliding with the personal space of the Primo Trio as the called themselves, let alone for having collided with the person of at least one of them. Then the world did something funny (As in ice down underwear or pie in the face funny) again. Jim and Tyrone almost banged heads as the both bent down to extend hands to lift me up. In fact the only reason they didn't is cause Ty is like a foot taller than Jim. They grabbed my hands and pulled me up, smiling as if they didn't want to pound me into goo.

"Hey there Missy, you okay?" asked Davis, winking at me as if sharing a joke. "These two brutes didn't hurt you none? You'll have to forgive them, they forget that they aren't doors sometime." All three smiled at me and after I nodded that I was okay, they smiled at me again and then turned and walked away. Just as they turned the corner I heard Tyrone say "She's cute." and then Jim said "I saw her first, butt-munch." I couldn't make out anymore because my heart was thumping too loudly in my chest and I nearly flee into the library and hid in the magazine stacks at the back, where no one ever goes unless they have a paper to write.

I slumped to the floor, hugged my knees to my chest and gulped for air. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!!!!!!! I was a girl. I was trapped in school until it let out and I could bike home. I was going to miss my last four classes of the day, well three and study-hall. The school would call my parents and tell them I skipped. Karen was almost certain to wait for me, then bike to my house and demand an explanation as to why I skipped class and even worse blew her off and didn't tell her I was skipping so she could come too. She'd think I was doing something fun and be mad that I hadn't invited her and if I denied it she'd just be convinced that she was right. In addition to that, I was missing a quiz in algebra, had to figure out how to reverse this and until then figure out how to hide my new female body, especially from Michelle, but mostly from my parents. I had to get to that manual. And as if all that wasn't bad enough, now I had the three biggest, toughest, strongest boys - well at least two of them - fighting over me. Boyfriends I didn't need, even if I was really a girl, considering I was still an eleven year old girl and they were thirteen year old boys. A tiny voice in the back of my mind commented that they were very handsome boys and I could do worse if I was stuck as a girl. I squashed that voice like everyone in my family squashed their own little voices - at least most of the time. See? Coming from a family of loonies helps… with something or other I'm sure.

I just sighed and sat there, hugging my knees and waiting for the final bell to ring and free me from this prison and worried about what I was gonna do next.

I compiled a short list: 1 - get home. 2 - read manual. 3 - figure out how to change back. 4 - don't panic. Little did I know how hard it was going to be to complete even one of those things and at least one was not going to be even vaguely possible.

---

To be continued in Part 3 - the Five Minute Rule.

---

I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, its a real adventure for me to write it. yes, I know I haven't really described the main character yet, not sure when I will, probably when the time is right, maybe next chapter or the one after that. Thanks for reading my first chapter. Please give me comments, even bad ones, mean ones, or flames.

So what would you do if you were in a public place and discovered that a diabolical device had changed your gender?

Chapter 3
The Five Minute Rule

By Jesse Rabbit

 

---

Thanks be to all of you for your feedback and praise. I was really nervous about posting this for many reasons (No, fear of flames wasn't one of them). This marks a real change for me. I have posted the first chapters of several stories elsewhere under other names and although I wrote the first chapters and had plans for a few more I never wrote anything more for those stories. never, not even chapter 2. I always felt a little guilty about writing them i think.

But this is my third chapter, and it's like this story wants to be told. So forgive me for any spelling mistakes or grammer problems, it's not that i don't care about being perfect, but if i take the time to be perfect i won't ever continue. I'm a perfectionist and if I let myself worry about getting everything perfect--well, let's just say that it never will be perfect.

Another thing that keeps me going is all the wonderful comments, especially the very first, I would love to know who posted it and give them a big kiss. It's nice to know that what you are writing might be understood by the audience. It's nicer to know that they like it, even a little bit. Hell, it's nice if they care enough to flame you cause then you know you struck a chord (Or at least sucked in a truly memorable way).

So, thank you all. I hope you are enjoying the ride as much as i am. I know that Elan's story might be a long one and I shall try and get you chapters of it whenever possible. I love writing. It's my life, it's my art, it's my everything. I'd rather be doing it than having sex, and that's kinda sad and really lame I know, but it's true. I'm not sure where Elan's voyage will take him/her but I'm enjoying the trip and I have at least a dozen more stops already on the itenerary, just waiting for details. Thank you, and enjoy.

P.S. - Thanks to the Staff of Big Closet. I love my logo, it's so cool. And Purple is my favorite Color.

---

So there I was, in the magazine stacks in the library of the exclusive private school my parents had sentenced me to, minding my own business, trying to hide until 3:30 pm or so; giving myself twenty minutes for everyone to leave and for Karen to give up and head home. You'd think that a library would be a good place to hide and get a little quiet time alone to think wouldn't you? Well, then you'd be wrong.

It was quiet--for about ten minutes, and I relaxed, caught my breath, and let my heart beat slow back to a semblance of a regular rhythm. Big mistake, calming down, but too much andrenaline isn't good for the body--then again, neither is having a gender-shifting-related heart attack. So for the next ten minutes I gathered myself back together enough to try and figure out what I was going to do in a calm and logical fashion--or at least that was the plan.

The Watch, notice that I've given the diabolical thing proper noun status, had ideas--or at least programming--to the contrary. As soon as I'd become calm enough to think, the thing began beeping softly and I had to quickly cover it with my hand to keep the noise from carrying too far and acting like a Librarian-homing beacon. The hand didn't help at all, but the beeping stopped a couple of seconds later on its own, so I removed my hand and looked down at the watch.

The time screen had cleared again and in the place of the time this message scrolled by "Rotate the watch face 180 degrees clockwise." Confused I did so, I mean, I was a girl, for God's sake, it's not like The Watch could do much worse to me, right? Turns out I was right and wrong on that count--but that's for later.

So I turn the watch face and the watch pops open to reveal what looks like the inside of one of those old fashioned picture lockets, two round black panels and nothing else--now, that's what it looked like at first, but--like a second later, the panels began to glow blue and in the space between them a hologram of a head began to take shape.

I had to cover my mouth with my free hand to keep from gasping out loud--it was Grandpa Horace's head, only glowing blue, tiny, and floating over my wrist. It's probably a good thing that he was already dead cause at that moment I would have strangled him to death all the while screaming "What have you done to me you madman!!!!" Which come to think of it would probably have stopped him from telling me what he had done to me and why, rather permanently. So it's a good thing he was already dead. On the other hand, choking the life out of the old coot would probably made me feel better, at least until I went to jail for like a billion years. I wonder if I would go to a girl's prison--that might be fun--Was I a lesbian now?

All these thoughts raced through my mind as I watched, stunned, as The Watch created an image of my grandfather. I was even more stunned when the head began to speak. Then I nearly panicked as I realized how loud the head was speaking, but the head's first words kept me from trying something drastic, either that or simply passing out from panic in a dead faint. The head said "Don't worry, no one can hear this but you"

See? That's when I knew that I was going mad--well, more mad than genetics had made me I guess. The Watch's next words confirmed it, when it said "No, you are not going mad." See!? Denial! I felt hysteria welling up inside, and was just about to break down into sobbing giggles when the watch gave me a single, hard, painful jolt. I kept from screaming only cause I bit my tongue, gah! did that hurt!

The Watch continued, "Please do not panic, there is no cause for alarm, Elan."

No Cause? No Cause! NO F*****G CAUSE? I'm a girl now you old loony!!!

As if I had spoken to it instead of just thinking all that the head laughed softly, "No, really, Elan. It's a present, not a curse. The manual will explain everything in greater detail, but just know this. The process is completely and easily reversible, so think of it as an adventure. So, have fun, don't tell anyone, especially your parents, not only will they get mad at me--I know I'm dead, but still--if you tell them about this they will most likely take the watch away, and after you read the manual you won't want that. Also, if you tell them, then they might not take their presents from me, and then you'd never get to find out what mischief I have in store for them, especially little Mike. Shame her birthday is last on the list, huh? Fifth of October. So I'm going to make you a deal. You put up with this for one year and you get the patent that makes it possible. And trust me, it can do a lot more than just shift your gender. So. What do you say? Yes, or No?"

And at that the head disappeared and a button appeared on each holo-panel: one labeled Yes and the other No. Know what? I jabbed my thumb at the No button as fast as I could. Not only that, I hit it again and again and again and again. I think I was growling.

The head reappeared, half not there cause my thumb was blocking part of the projection. Grandpa laughed and gave me that annoying smirk of his and said "Good! Knew I could count on you Elan! You always were a square egg." Grandpa always called people that, I don't know why or what in the name of Bugs Bunny it means. "Have fun, and don't tell anyone."

I know I growled then, and if I could have removed the damn thing I would have flung it across the room and then jumped up and down on it, screaming in rage. I cried out "I SAID NO! DAMNIT!" and then realized what I had done and covered my mouth with both hands and whimpered. I listened real hard and heard feet, small librarian feet and larger student feet rushing over towards where I was. SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!!!!!!!

I looked round wildly for a way to escape and--as the footsteps grew louder and voices started calling out asking if everything was okay--I realized that it was hopeless. I turned, tossed my bag a few aisles down the stacks and began calling "Is everything, okay?" I figured that if it looked like I was trying to help they wouldn't realize that I wasn't the one who cried out. Two seconds later Miss Pertry and three 6th graders rounded the corner and spotted me looking round in confusion.

"Are you okay?" we both asked at the same time (well, I was slightly slower having started just as saw her mouth open to ask me).

She looked at me with those owl like librarian eyes and humphed "You didn't see what happened back here did you, young lady?"

I shook my head and said in as polite and lady-like a tone as I could "No, Miss Pertry. I was over in the Seventeens," I was guessing that's where my bag had landed, "looking for the President Ciccone interview from last year. It's for my poly-civ class." She nodded, still looking around to see if she could figure out what had happened, so I continued "Then I heard this voice cry out something and I got up and looked but there was no one here. Maybe it was a prank?"

She looked at me sharply for a second when I said that, but I guess she figured that a prankster would have been smarter than to bring up the suggestion, cause her face softened and she nodded.

As she turned away I mentally heaved a sigh of relief, figuring that I'd gotten away with it, but my relief was short lived, cause after she sent the 6th graders she turned back to me with a frown. I figured I was in for it--and I was right.

"Did someone try and touch you, dear?" She asked in a soft concerned, parental kind of voice, "It's okay to tell me."

She smiled softly, to show me that it was okay, but it wasn't cause I had no clue at all what she was talking about, none at all. My confusion must have registered on my face but she clearly misinterpreted it as confusion about how she knew it was me who had cried out and not confusion after what-in-the-name-of-Elvis she was talking about; 'cause she shook her head and smiled softly, "Dear, there's no one else back here, and you have a very pretty voice. It's very easy to recognize. You should try out for choir."

I had to pinch myself to keep from telling her that I already was in choir cause I know she'd know I was lying, even though I wasn't, 'cause I was in choir, but not in this body and I got really confused then and had to sit down, which I did.

This turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to do, because it seemed to convince her that something really had happened. She came over and knelt beside me on the floor, put her hand softly on my shoulder and said, in a soft voice that held nothing but compassion, "It's okay, dear, you can tell me anything you like, or not. It's your choice and I'm not going to force you. And if you want to tell me something I'll try and keep it confidential unless I think I have to tell for your own safety, okay?"

I nodded, trying to keep from crying, touched by her concern and her honesty. I finally figured out that she thought someone had tried to touch me--you know--sexually, and nearly giggled. Well, that is to say that what came out was nearly a giggle, but halfway through it turned into sobbing. I just collapsed against her and cried and cried and cried, for I don't know how long, but I think at some point one of the 6th grade girls came back to ask her something and I think Miss Pertry told her to use the comp really softly and the girl went away, but I'm not really sure. She just held me and patted my back and made soft soothing noises until I finally stopped.

She helped me sit back up and gave me a dry wipe clean up with. I pulled it from its slip case, wiped my eyes, blew my nose--rather loudly--giggled sheepishly, slipped it back into its case and, pressing the Cleanse button, handed it back to her.

She brushed a lock of my newly elongated hair out of my eyes and asked "All better now?"

I shook my head and she nodded as if she understood. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her tone making it clear that it was okay if I said no. I shook my head again and she sighed but nodded. "My door is always open to students if you want to talk. I know how you students dislike talking to teachers or parents, or, lord forbid the school counselor, but if you need to talk, about anything--"

I nodded and gave her a unsteady smile. "I...thanks, Miss Pertry, but its just..." I trailed off, unsure what to say or....

She helped me to my feet and smiled down at me. "Second lunch ended fifteen minutes ago, dear. Let me give you a pass so that you don't get into trouble. You might want to go to the bathroom and freshen up so I'll give you an five extra minutes, okay."

I nodded and followed her up to the checkout desk. She looked at me and smiled "I think you forgot something, dear."

I must have looked so confused because she laughed. Miss Pertry has a really nice laugh (and a nice voice--which is good cause she's one of the three choir coaches. We have one for the boys, one for the girls and the choir teacher who works with us as a group.) Anyway, she pointed at the stacks and said, not quite able to remove the laugh from her voice, "You forgot your bag, and your magazine dear." I blushed, I know I did cause my face felt like it was about a trillion degrees Kelvin. I turned and ran back to the stacks, grabbed my bag and quickly flipped through the issues of Seventeen until I found the one with the President's face on the cover. My parents told me that she used to be a singer before she went into politics, but I think they must be joking.

So I went back to the desk and gave Miss Pertry the magazine. Then panic hit me again when she asked for my library card, cause I couldn't give it to her, now could I? She laughed and smiled when she saw my face go all red again. "Don't have one?" I shook my head, although I've had a NoCal (the Diet State) library card since I was like three. She nodded and asked "Did you bring your Identi-Card?" again I shook my head and she gave me a grin. "Too much to remember, huh?" and I nodded cause I'm always forgetting it. Dad threatened to have it grafted onto my arm if I lost the thing again, which I have like seven times. In fact, I once left it at home when the family was going on vacation to Tokyo, so the Aerospace port security personnel wouldn't let me on the spaceplane, so my dad had to drive me home to get it while Mom and the rest went on ahead. They were so mad.

Miss Pertry just smiled at me and asked "What's your name, dear?"

I blanked for a moment and she smiled, "So I can issue you a card, silly."

I laughed and after a second's consideration told her "Elayne. Elayne Grace."

She nodded, typed it into the comp, scanned the mag's barcode, printed out a note and signed it. She handed me the pile, with my new card sitting on top. "We can fill out the rest of the information for your account, tomorrow. Don't forget your Indenti-Card, Okay Elayne?"

I nodded. I mean, what else could I do. I took my stuff and headed for the door. I was almost through it when Miss Pertry called "Elayne? Dear?"

I turned and looked back "Yes, Miss?"

"Remember, No means no. If someone doesn't stop when you want them to stop, no matter what, you should run and find someone in charge and tell them what happened. No one will think you are a snitch. Remember, okay? No one has the right to touch you if you don't want them to, okay?"

I nodded, again. I mean, what else could I do. And I left the library, took the first left and headed out into the arboretum. I needed to think again, and it wasn't getting any easier. Just to see, I looked down at the note and laughed. It said "Please Excuse Elayne for being tardy to class, she was helping me with some sorting in the Library. Miss Pertry." It was funny, it really was. I was excused from class, but I wasn't cause I wasn't Elayne, but I was. I ruthlessly squashed that train of thought cause it was likely to make me hysterical again if I didn't.

I sat down at one of the tables and looked at The Watch. "Damn you." I whispered. I didn't think it would help but I began to press the buttons one by one, hoping one would change me back and then all this madness would be over. The mode button yielded a chrono, a ten phase alarm, a timer, and a data-link, but no help. The menu button yielded programming options, voice recorder, games, translator, gps, and memo system, but no help. The telecomm button yielded internet, cell phone, and instant messenger, but no help. The light button was no help. The set button was no help. The reset button was no help. The red button beeped when I pressed it and the word PANIC came up on the screen. Then something helpful happened.

The watch instructed me to open it back up and Grandpa's head reappeared. "I see you found the Panic Button, Elan. Very good. I figured you would. This button has two uses. If you push it three times in rapid succession it will call both Emergency services and your parents. Having done so it will transmit your location and lock into Panic Mode. You can read more about Panic Mode in the manual. But what is probably more important to you right now is its other function. If you press and hold both the Panic button and the Mode button for eleven seconds it will reverse your gender."

I almost crowed with glee--but then The Watch of DOOM began to speak again. I know Grandpa put that pause there just to annoy me, I KNOW it. Bastard.

"That is, it will reverse it for exactly five minutes, no more, no less. And it will only work twice per day. Twice per day, for five minutes each. And I was nice, that twice per day resets at 11:01 a.m. and p.m. PST. So its really once per day and once per night, but whatever. So enjoy, and remember, Elan, have fun." With that his head disappeared again and I throttled thin air for a few seconds.

Wonderful! For five minutes every twelve hours I could be normal again. This sucked. What sucked even worse was that someone--Vice Principal Andrews--chose that moment to come out into the arboretum and instantly her eyes locked onto mine and I realized that I was going to be in deep, deep trouble. So I did the only thing I could, given the circumstances--I turned and ran like all the hounds of hell were chasing me.

---

To be continued in Part 4 - What's the Interest on Borrowed Time?

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire...

Chapter 4
What's the Interest on Borrowed Time?

By Jesse Rabbit

---

Thank you all for your comments, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Its slightly stronger than those before, but only a little teasing.

---

You know... In retrospect, running from Missus Andrews was probably not the best idea I ever had, but in my own defense, I wasn't really thinking. If I had taken the time to think things through I would have remembered that I had a pass and let her scold me for not getting to class post-haste. But NOOOO! I had to run. So I did.

Have you ever tried to figure out who is in control of your feet when you are running in a dead panic? 'Cause I certainly isn't your brain, 'cause if it was, my brain would never have steered me to the gym block. I mean, two huge wide open rooms - one of which is half full of water - four tennis courts, one aerobics room full of girls in leotards, one weight room full of sweaty grunting boys, and two locker rooms... what was I thinking!

As I skidded round the corner towards the locker rooms I thought for a few fleeting seconds about using my five minutes, but threw that idea out 'cause the boy me didn't have a pass and Missus Andrews would most likely drag me off to the office to give me detention and lecture me for a while. That would certainly take more than five minutes and while I was shocked when it happened to me, I think Missus Andrews would probably mega-freak.

I was running flat out, my heart doing the cha-cha in my chest, my breath too damn loud, trying to figure out if I dared run into one of the locker-rooms, and - if I did dare - which one. If I ran into the girls' room she could follow me and would think that's where I'd gone anyway, and I'd never been in the girls' locker room. If I went into the boys' room I'd know the layout, she'd think I'd never run in there cause I'm a girl, but on the other hand, I'd be a girl in the boys' locker room.

I was just about to run into the boys' room when a pair of strong arms - one black and one freckled - shot out of a door I hadn't noticed and grabbed me. The next thing I knew I was lifted into the air and hustled into the room. I heard the down click behind me, ominously or so it seemed, me having just been kidnapped by forces unknown. When I had caught my breath, eased the throbbing pain in my chest, and had a chance to look around, I realized where I was.

The posters of sports stars past and present, the soft couches and chairs, the small fridge for drinks and lunches and snakes, the condom dispenser, and the wall of awards kinda gave it away. The fact that I recognized my captors / rescuers helped clinch it in my mind. I was in Sports Heaven, the unofficial name for the Athlete's lounge. Since they played sports for the school they were exempted from gym class and so they had a free period to do whatever, either study or just relax. And all without teachers to bother them. I'd heard of this room - off limts to all but the athletes themselves - , but had never seen it. In fact, I hadn't even known where it was. My rescuers were of course the Primo Trio: Jim Golwar, Davis Hastings, and Tyrone Bigs-Major.

They were smiling at me, giving me that smug, self-satisfied "I just rescued the princess" look. Davis spoke first, "Ah, fair maiden! We meet once more!" I'm not kidding! He must doing Ivanhoe in lit class or something. He continued, "Did these louts harm or give thee a fright when they didst... owww!"

The oww was cause Jim had just smacked him on the back of the head, saying as he did so, "Hey Butt-munch, knock off the book talk."

He, Jim, turned to me and said, "Sorry bout Davis, Missy, it's only that he's stupid and a butt-munch. I'm Jim, Jim Golwar. These are my mates, Davis 'the butt-munch' Hastings... owww!" - the oww being for much the same reason as before - "and Tyrone Big-Mouth... Ha Missed me! Owww!"

I'll leave it to your imagination who hit, missed, and whatever. Once the scuffling subsided they turned back towards me, looking remarkably like those three hyenas in The Lion King. (Oh damn! I just remembered that we - my family and Karen - are going to New York tonight to see Terminator, the Musical. I already have the Original cast recording, its soo great! I mean, when the Terminator sings Metal Man Mayhem, its so funny. Damn! I gotta get home quick and find out how to reverse this, cause my parents will definitely notice that I'm a girl on the trip to NYC.)

While these thoughts were racing through my mind I missed whatever the boys were saying, and had to go "Huh?" like an airhead. They cracked up, and Tyrone gave me a squeeze.

"She's great! We gotta keep'er. What do you say, boys?" The other two nodded and Tyrone looked down at me. "What'dya say, Missy? Wanna be our mascot?"

I, proving that I was, in point of fact, a certified super-genius, went "huh?" again, which of course caused the boys to crack up once more. I think they must have been too loud cause the faculty buzzer went buzz and they all went dead silent.

Jim went over to the door and pressed the I-com swtich. "Yes?"

The I-com replied "This is VP Andrews, please open the door" She must have had a key, but I learned latter that the faculty always respected the students' privacy and asked for permission, unless it was an emergency.

When I heard her voice I must have cringed and really obviously, 'cause Tyrone, who was already looking down on me, tucked in between his arm and his side as I was, whispered "Is she who you was runnin' from, little missy?" I nodded and he grinned. "No worries kiddo." And with that he rolled with me over the back of the chair and into what clearly was a semi-hidden make out area / nap spot.

And just in time too, cause Jim was opening the door, and saying "Yes, Missus Andrews? Sorry if we were too loud."

"Sorry to disturb you boys, and no, it's okay. There aren't any classrooms on this hall. No, I'm looking for a girl, she ran this way, but she's not in the gym, the pool, or the girls' locker room. I was hoping I could get one of you to check the boys' room for me, just in case."

Jim said something that I couldn't quite hear as he was most likely facing away from me and there was a couch in the way and Tyrone was lying on top of me, my face tucked into his neck. He whispered into my ear "Just stay calm, Jim and Davy won't give you up. They aren't narcs."

Missus Andrews replied "No, Coach McMillian is out on the track and Coach Nichols is in the pool and there's no other lifeguard." After a second of Jim saying something else I couldn't hear, Missus Andrews said "Thank you, Jim." Then there was silence for about a minute until she spoke again.

In that time though I got familiar with Tyrone's neck and chest, cause I couldn't move and was getting really stiff and he was heavy and warm on top of me. He's really... um... hard... you know his arms and chest are really firm cause he's so athletic. He also smelled of irish spring soap and - very faintly - pizza.

Missus Andrews said, "So Davis, is it just you and Jim in here?"

Davis was sitting just on the other side of the couch so I could here what he said "No Ma'am. Ty is sleeping in the back."

Missus Andrews laughed "Sleeping? Or does he have a girl back there with him?"

I must have twitched violently at that cause Tyrone held me closer to him and whispered "Chill, chill, little lady. It's okay, we're allowed to, so she's just teasing."

Davis replied in a mock offended manner "Why, Missus Andrews! Are you prying into a student's private life? You naughty wicked thing, you."

And they both laughed. I just shuddered realizing that Tyrone had probably had more than one... adventure... in this very room. I think I blushed, but for whatever reason it began to get really warm there, underneath Tyrone. I wished Jim would hurry up and not find me in the boys' locker room, but it seemed like he was taking forever. For the longest time the only sound I could hear was Tyrone breathing hotly in my ear.

Finally Jim came back, "Sorry, Ma'am, no girl in the boys' room. What did she do?"

"I don't know. I think it was one of the sixth graders. She was skipping class in the arboretum and just took off running when I came in. I just wanted to know what was wrong, I hope she's okay. She looked really scared."

"Aww, you know fish, ma'am. She probably heard from one of the older kids that you dip kids that skip in hot chocolate and eat them whole." Everyone laughed, even Tyrone, but he did so very quietly, right in my ear.

"Well, thank you, Jim, sorry to interrupt your 'studying'."

"Bye, Missus Andrews," Jim and Davis chorused, wildly off key and out of sync, and with that the door closed.

There was a rustling and Jim and Davis peered over the back of the couch. "Aww man! Ty already snogged her!" Jim said in mock disappointment and outrage.

I know I blushed at that and started to squirm, trying to get out from under Tyrone who was now pretending to snore and being totally limp. "He did what?!" I squeaked.

All three started laughing and the other two leaned down and grabbed one leg and one arm as Tyrone rolled off of me. They hoisted me back over the back of the couch and I landed, upside down with my legs over Jim's shoulders and my head facing the door. "Well, then, Missy? Gonna take us up on our offer?" asked Davy from somewhere off to my right.

"Huh?" I whined, terribly disorriented and confused. I squirmed, trying to get upright and accidentally kneed Jim in the head. He grunted and laughing softly, began to tickle me. I squealed and thrashed, eventually landing on the carpet and panting. "Wh-what are you guys talking about?" I finally managed to gasp out.

"We want you to be our mascot. You're cute, and we bet you'd look great in a cheerleader outfit," Tyrone said, popping up from behind the couch. "We always pick the cutest 6th grader for it, and Mandy just moved away."

Jim nodded and took over. "Mandy was our old mascot for the first part of the year, but if we'd seen you before we would have asked you, not her. You're cuter, and..."

Davis continued "And you are more athletic. You can really run, kiddo."

"So what do you say?" finished Tyrone, "Will you do it?"

I was floored, I'm sure that this was a real honor--in theory, but I wasn't a girl, well, I was but not really; I didn't go to this school, or any other for that matter, as a girl, and I wasn't even in 6th grade. That was the answer! "Ummm... I can't. I'm not a 6th grader, I'm an 8th grader, like you guys."

They blinked and Jim laughed as if I had made a joke, Davis went "Whoa!" while Tyrone peered closer at me and tilted his head a little to the left.

"No! Really!" I protested.

They shrugged. "It's okay, no rule that says the mascot has to be a sixer. We took a vote and we picked you. So?"

I started to shake my head, but they looked so disappointed that for no reason I could figure out, I nodded. They cheered and high-fived each other. "Umm....?" I started, but cut off as they group hugged me, squeezing so tight that I was afraid that my head would pop off and my eyes fire out of my head and into the wall. When they let me go I gasped for air for a second and then managed to get out "What exactly does a mascot do?"

They smiled and told me. It turns out that a mascot is a personal cheerleader, one who bounces and yells and cheers and gives her athletes kisses and hugs when they do well and acts as a watch dog for their stuff and brings them drinks. They said that it's a really important position and that Mascots got to use the lounge and got excused from gym class. They asked if I would mind doing all that, which I would, but I figured that since I was never coming back to school as a girl it really didn't matter, so I just shook my head and said that was okay. They smiled back and told me that they would arrange for my fitting for my outfit tomorrow or Wednesday and that they would get the forms I would need to fill out from Miss Vasquez, the cheerleader sponsor.

I said, "Don't I need to try out for a spot on the cheerleading squad?" but they shook their heads and Jim said "Nope, Mascots are picked by the athletes, and only Stars like us."

"Oh, okay." I said.

"Just one thing," said Tyrone, coming over and lifting me up and placing me on the couch. He sat down right next to me and wrapped his arm back around me.

"Umm? Yah?" I asked intelligently.

"What's your name, cutie-pie?"

Cutie-pie? Oh god...he called me cutie-pie--I could just curl up and die. I blushed furiously as I replied "E...Elayne Grace." Thank Dog I remembered the name I had used before. If I had to have two identities I was going to need to keep them straight.

"Hello, Elayne!" the boys chorused together, sounding even worse now that all three were involved.

So that was that. We spent the last five minutes of the period sitting on the couch with me tucked right up against Tyrone, and Jim and Davis smiling at me. When the bell rang they got up, Jim handing me my bag, and Davis patted me on the butt "See you tomorrow Elayne?"

I nodded and walked toward the door, already trying to figure out where I could hide for the last two periods, when Tyrone swept me up into his arms and kissed me, soundly, on the lips. I was sooooo stunned that I just hung there. But it got worse, cause when he set me down Jim kissed me and then Davis kissed me. And then they were guiding me out of the lounge, locking the door and sauntering off as the hall filled with students. AAAAAAAAAH!!!! They kissed ME! EEEEEEEEWWWWW! I dashed for the locker-room, without thinking. The boys' locker room as it turned out.

---

To be continued in part 5 - A Chicken in the Fox House.

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

If you were suddenly, unwillingly, a girl, where would you most not want to end up?

Chapter 5
A Chicken in the Fox House

By Jesse Rabbit

Do you know the fabulous thing about raw panic? That's right! Total obliviousness! Having just been kissed by not one, not Two, but THREE, count'em: Tyrone is one, Jim is two, and Davis is three, I did what any eleven-year-old girl who was a boy just two hours ago would, I ran straight to the locker-room that I knew best, the boys'. And having run into it, I promptly ran through it into the bathroom part and locked myself into a stall, all without realizing what I had just done. Remember that part cause it becomes important in a few minutes time.

Now that I was relatively safe or at least feeling that way, I slumped onto the toilet seat and hugged myself, trembling violently as I was. This had not been the greatest day of my life...in fact, it was fairly easy to say that although not exactly the worst day, it was certainly the most stressful and if it kept up at this pace might very well qualify as the worst day.

The worst day in my life was when my mother, my big brother, and I were in a car accident, back before they had autodrive vehicles. We were all rushed to the hospital and because I was in the back seat, I was relatively unharmed but Lawrence was in surgery for twenty two hours and they had to clone him two new legs and some organs. Mom had head injuries, but she was able to talk to me, but I thought she was a mummy and was going to eat me and I cried a lot and it was a very bad day. That was almost six years ago. Compared to that, today was a picnic, although one that was already overrun by ants and was expecting rain any second now.

I tried to calm down and review - in a rational manner - what had just happened, but most of my mind kept gibbering that I'd been kissed...thrice...by boys. Another, slightly less sane part of my mind commented that this was my first (and second, and third) kiss, assuming we can discount the time last year when my six year old cousin Mary-Beth hopped into my lap on the 4th of July and kissed me right on the mouth and told me in a dead serious - for a six-year-old anyway - that we were gonna be married one day and that she wanted to name our baby Princess. I later saw her do almost exactly the same thing to my sister Pig. Pig's reaction was priceless, I wish I had had a vid unit. Pig screamed and ran to the pool and wouldn't come out until Mary-Beth was taken into the house for nap time.

A third, much less sane part of my brain was comparing the boys' techniques. Sometimes, having a really good memory is a curse, I swear, 'cause I couldn't get the sensations of being kissed out of my mind. There seemed to be four major factors to a kiss: angle, pressure, moistness, and grip. Another important part seemed to be taste and or scent. This was the list the insane, but highly analytical part of my mind had come up with. Tyrone had the best angle, at nearly matching mine, and his lips were soft and tasted of cherry lip balm. His grip was a little too tight. Jim's angle was off and his pressure was too hard, but he held me close and not too tight. On the other hand his lips tasted like pizza. Davis had kinda dry, tasteless lips but good pressure, unfortunately he grabbed my butt and squeezed during the kiss, which the analytical part of my mind said was a little crass, at least according to the movies. I mean - that part of my brain said - we haven't even been on a date yet.

A fourth part of my mind was occupied trying to figure out a way to kill the third part of my mind without doing us all serious harm. A fifth part was trying to remember if I had any homework from first or second periods, while a sixth part was doing the happy dance cause I didn't have to go to Poly-Civ. The seventh, and hopefully final, part of my mind was singing Texas Chainsaw by the Smoking Popes, which has been stuck in the back of my mind for like a week, and I don't even like the Smoking Popes.

The various parts of my mind eventually gathered together to confer and figure out what I was going to do. The committee result seems to have been 1) kissing boys is bad. 2) Tyrone kisses nice. 3) I was going insane. 4) AHHHHHH!!!!!!! Having decided all that, I did the only sensable thing I could think of. I fell asleep, there, on the toilet, in what I did not yet know was the boys' locker-room.

***

While I slept I dreamed (I know, strange, but go figure) and in this dream Karen was telling me that I had to be a girl cause boys don't wear watches that talk and then I was running through the halls of the school and everywhere I went someone wanted to kiss me, boys, girls, teachers, my holographic grandfather, my old dog Raptor, my school's mascot, Joey the Echidna, even Darth Grell, Tyra Solo, and Yoda-D2. Which is really weird cause Yoda-D2 doesn't have a mouth. Finally Mary-Beth and Kristen Duncan (coolest girl in school, really smart, really athletic, lead soprano, and class president) cornered me, but the wall behind me turned into the Trio and they were all yelling at me to do my homework and dance about on the football field in the nude.

You'd think I would have woken up at this point, but noooo... now I was in composition reading an essay called what kissing boys is like and why talking watches will one day rule the world to a class full of nothing but the members of the Smoking Popes. That went on for a long long time and I was just coming to my conclusion which seemed to be written in morse-code when the door to the stall next to mine slammed against the wall that my head was leaning against, waking me up with a start. For about one second I was thrilled to be back in the real world which made much more sense than dreamland did, but then I remembered that, right now, life and dreamland were almost equally strange.

Awake, if not terribly happy or coherent, I straightened myself up a little, opened the stall door, washed my hands and face and - grabbing a couple of paper towels from a dispensor - I walked out into the rest of the locker-room drying my face. I heard a clunk, then a gasp and - a second later - the sound of flesh slapping against tile. I pulled the paper towels away from my face and looked up, confused. Everyone was staring at me, and almost no one was wearing any clothing.

There was utter silence except for the sound of the showers. For a second I couldn't figure out why everyone was staring at me in stunned, deer-in-the-headlights, horrified silence. Then I remembered, realized that I was looking at about two dozen naked boys and couldn't decide which to do: blush and scream, or fall over laughing at the full body blushes that they were displaying. The tiny, insane, analytical part of my mind was storing away physique, size, and faces for future reference.

Then the silence was broken when the boy who had fallen on his ass squealed and scrambled back into the showers and hid out of sight behind the wall. That got them all dashing to hide or snatching up towels to cover themselves with. All the while I just stood there, frozen by conflicting emotions.

A booming voice called out "What's going on in here?" and all conflict was swept away by my old friend, panic. I squealed, turned and dashed, slipping and sliding on the damp floor, into the door to the hall, banging my shin against a bench in the process. As I flailed for the door, trying to remember how to open the damnable thing I heard several boys begin to complain to Coach Nichols or MacMillian that there was a girl in the dressing room. Just as I heard the coach cry out in outrage I remembered that the door opened inward, yanked on it, slipped round it into the hallway and made a frantic dash down it. I skidded into the empty choir room, which made this sixth or seventh period. I looked up at the clock and saw, much to my relief, that in less than five minutes the bell would ring and school would be over for the day.

My relief was short lived as I realized that with the end of the day the office would call my parents and tell them that I'd skipped several classes. This, I can tell you, I just did not need. I quickly decided that I needed a plan, a cunning plan, and quickly. Then it came to me, it was a long shot but maybe grandpa could be useful.

I checked The Watch's menu commands and found the sound recorder option. Then I checked the telecomm commands and found what I had been hoping was there: Voice Modulator. I quickly called Mom on The Watch.

"Hello?" she said, obviously not recognizing the originating number.

"Hey, Mom, Guess what?" I said, trying to sound cheerful and upbeat, activating the voice recorder as I did so.

"What? Are you okay baby? Are you in trouble?" She sounded really concerned, she worries a lot.

I laughed "Nope, I'm calling from my new watch, from class."

"Elan Collin Owen! I'm not in the mood for jokes!" She said, now instantly grumpy, mom hated jokes, unless she was at home when she could relax and let her hair down, or so she said. But she was always sending everyone in the family every stupid joke she found on line, so... parents, go figure.

Again I laughed, a little less forced this time, it was kinda funny. "No really mom, grandpa's watch has a complete telcomms package. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi! And that I'd see you when you get home. Love ya mom." And I hung up.

That was part one accomplished. For the second, and I was running out of those really fast, I linked moms voice sample into the voice modulator program, used web pages to find the school's attendance number, and told The Watch to call it. When the attendance comp picked up I told it that Elan had had to go to a family function and that I was sorry that I'd forgotten to sign him out and that I would send a note with him tomorrow (She's done that before, so I remember). And then I gave my mother's name and hung up with twenty seconds to spare. I heaved a sigh of relief again and looked down at The Watch. "Grandpa, nice toy, but I still hate you right now and if you weren't dead I'd..." the bell rang, cutting me off. Now all I had to do was get out of here without anyone who knew the new me seeing me... I guess it was time to use my five minutes of normalcy, I hoped I wouldn't need it later, but I think it's for the best and Karen would definitely think it strange is a strange girl took my bike. Well, here goes nothing.

---

To be continued in Part 6 - Countdown to Confession.

Sorry this part is so short, but the it seemed the best place to end the chapter.

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

How do you tell your best friend that you just happen to have changed gender since they saw you last?

Chapter 6
Countdown to Confession

by Jesse Rabbit

There I was, pressing the Mode and Panic buttons for all of like a second when the doors to the choir room banged open and in trooped half a dozen members of the choir. For a moment I just stared but thankfully I had the presence of mind to release the buttons before the sequence could begin and thus prevented myself from transforming in front of six of my peers. They gave me little more than a cursory glance, engaged as they were in their own conversation.

I slipped out the door and into the press of junior high kids, all streaming towards the doors like rats leave a sinking ship. I just kept my head down and let them sweep me out the doors. I didn't see anybody significant and more importantly no one seemed to notice me in the slightest except for one sixer boy who stepped on my foot and then blushed and looked scared when he realized that I was a girl.

Emerging into the bright NoCal November day, my contacts automatically darkened to shield my eyes but I was still temporarily blinded by the glare. When I could see again I slipped out of the stream and slipped around the side of the school. There were some benches and tables and trees on the grass there and it was far more exposed than I was comfortable with, but there weren't any kids on this side. Unless someone at Crestview - the Elementary school next door - was looking out of their classrooms with a pair of binoculars, I was out of sight.

I glanced about nervously as I pressed and held the buttons, pressing back against the wall and praying no one came by in the next minute or so. Eleven seconds after I pressed the buttons the watch beeped and I felt those tingles flood back through my body. This time I tried to concentrate on what it felt like but quickly decided that was a bad idea cause it felt like when your leg wakes up, sharp pains and tingles everywhere, all at once. And then, eleven seconds after it began, it ended and I realized something dreadful. I had such a wedgie!

I squirmed and tugged frantically at my underwear, trying to pull it away from where it was crushing my newly reacquired manhood (well, boyhood). Clearly I would have to be careful about how high I pulled them in the future. I finally, and with a sinking feeling in my chest and pain in my groin, realized there was really no way I could fix the problem without pulling down my pants at least to my knees.

The watch beeped and I looked down at the face. It said 4:30 remaining, and I freaked and ran, forgetting the pain, or at least trying to ignore it. I dashed towards the front of the school, slipped through the trickle of students that had lagged behind and dashed headlong across the yard to the bike racks where I saw Karen waiting, an annoyed expression on her face. The watch beeped 4:00 as I unlocked my bike and Karen bitched at me for making her wait like a minute, sheesh!

I turned to her with a forced grin and said, "Race you to my house!" Then, without waiting for her to argue I hopped onto my bike and tore off, peddling like the hounds of war were chasing me, even though we aren't supposed to ride our bikes on school paths or in the parking lot. I heard Karen scream and jump onto her bike, and I wasn't surprised, we were always doing stuff like this. It's almost a mile to my house from the school, straight down Vineyard Ridge to Firehill and Firehill to Rembrant, and if I went flat out I might just make it in time.

During the ride, which seemed to both crawl with regard to progress and fly with regard to time, the higher functions section of my brain tried to figure out what in the name of Bob I was going to tell Karen, and how. I also wondered how she would take it, whether she would scream, freak, or hit me, or all three. It was too much to hope for that she would be calm about it; Karen is many things, genius, sweet, cheerful, annoying, and good a tennis are just a few, but calm is not one of them.

I raced down the road, passing Claremont High (Get this. Claremont High, Cascade Middle, and Crestview Basic are all in a row, on Vineyard Ridge. They look exactly alike, at least the buildings do, although Crestview has a slide on its pool and more things to climb on in its exercise yard and some of the benches are smaller. But the three are identical. They even have the same animal as a mascot. The Echidnas. Joseph, Samuel, and Isiah or Joey, Sammy, and Izzy the Echidna brothers. Sigh.) So I pass the high school where I will be going next year; pass the library with its sign that says "Lets make 2018 the Literacy Year" (sic); turn onto Firehill and pass the old firehouse (now a landmark) and the new FireSquad facility with its six crimson FireHawk Hovercopters outside on their launch pads; and then down the street past the three churches, the shopping area, and then the WorldComp annex, onto Rembrant and down the street.

Karen is bigger than me and she can really ride, so by this point we're neck and neck. I dodge Missus Holister and her mini-tigers Sigfred & Roy and Mister Walker who is, as usual, playing hackey sac all over his yard, the sidewalk, and the street. My watch has started beeping non-stop now and I'm afraid too look down at it, cause a) I'd crash, and b) it might say 0:01 remaining.

Finally, after an eternity it seems, I reach my yard, leap off my bike, letting it fall onto the grass, even though I've been told not to a zillion times (a finitely large number, as opposed to infinity which is an infinitely large number, or so says my mom, the math geek. She's made me memorize the first thousand prime numbers, forwards and backwards. sigh.)

I'm racing up the steps when the tingles begin, but I force myself to keep going, slamming my hand against the palm scanner and flinging myself into the front hallway, where I hit the floor hard and just lie there, completely winded and spasming as the tingles and aches wash over me. A few seconds later it's all better, completely. I'm not kidding. No aches, no pains, no tightness in my shorts. Even my hand which should have been throbbing with the force I'd used against the palm scanner was fine. I was just a little out of breath and that was better than it had been just a second before.

As I was taking this all in, a shadow fell across me and I heard Karen say, "Well, you won. I just hope you're happy, 'cause I think you gave old lady Holister a heart attack. Elan! Hey, Elan, where were you today, you skipped class? Miss Greystoke is gonna make you write 300 words, anyway, why are you lying on the...." And that's when I think she noticed something was wrong 'cause she just trailed off.

I climbed to my feet, doing it deliberately and slowly to give myself time to think. I listened for her to say something else but she wasn't saying anything; in fact, I'm not so sure she was breathing. I slowly turned to face her and sighed. "Why don't you close the door and come on up to my lab--er, room. I want to change and Pig will be home soon." No, she wouldn't. Pig walks, and usually she and her friends stop to get some candy or at the park for a while, and Karen knew it, but she didn't argue.

I turned back away from her and slowly climbed the stairs up to my rooms.

"I put your bike up for you, Elan," Karen said quietly, as much to break the silence as for any other reason, I think. I nodded and said, "Thanks", but I wasn't really paying that much attention.

We got to my room and, after closing the door and activating the Privacy Please sign on the wall just outside, I took off my school jacket and tie, hung them in the closet and slumped onto the bed.

When I hadn't said anything for about five or ten minutes Karen finally poked me and I rolled over and looked up into her eyes. She blinked and opened her mouth to speak, once, twice, three times. Then she closed it again and slumped onto the bed next to me. After about ten more minutes of complete silence she finally asked "How?" Her voice was small and scared.

I shrugged and sighed, "Grandpa," as if that explained everything. Which, come to think of it, it did, if you knew our family, that is. Karen has been my best friend since we were three; we've skipped the same grades, been in most of the same classes, and even invented one or two things together, although nothing big, yet. If anyone knew my family she did.

She blinked and reached out one hand and poked me right in the chest. "Why?"

I jumped as she poked something soft and sensitive on my chest and shrugged again. "Dunno."

She giggled, smiling when I jumped, and poked me again.

"HEY!" I cried, "Stoppit!"

"You got titties!" I blinked and looked down, and gasped. She was right, I had these tiny little bumps, barely there but noticable 'cause I was leaning back on my arms and thus pulling my shirt tight across my chest. They were little more than bumps, a lot like the ones Karen had so proudly showed me just this summer. I groaned and flopped back on the bed again, staring up at the ceiling.

Karen poked me in the belly and peered down into my face, "Do you still have a thingy?"

Now, I don't want you to get the wrong ideas here so let me clarify two things: 1 our schools have been teaching us about our bodies, sex (safe and otherwise), and all that stuff since kindergarten, but still, using words like mammary and penis and vagina is just no fun, I mean, adults don't use them so why should kids, right? And 2; Karen and I have never, ever, EVER!, done anything sexual; she's my best friend and it would be gross, like kissing Pig, or, or, well actually I cannot think of anything worse than kissing Pig, but you get the idea. But we have shown each other our bodies, and not just in health class when everyone has to get up in front of the class completely naked (it's to make us feel more comfortable about our bodies or at least that's what the teachers say, but we think it's just an excuse to torture us more.

My dad says that in his day people didn't talk about stuff like sex, and that everyone was really uptight and republican. (It's an old political party, I checked. From before the space age.)

I nodded and blushed when she smiled. Then I had to bat at her hands 'cause she was trying to pull down my pants, crying, "Let me see, let me see!"

See, told you calm wasn't one of her traits. I rolled away from her and off the bed, grumping, "I can do that myself, thank you!"

I sighed mentally when I realized that I had just, essentially, agreed to show her, so I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it from my trousers, unbuckled my belt and let my pants fall to the floor. I had to change anyway, so I figured I might as well get it over with. I kicked my shoes into the closet, wriggleD out of my pants and shirt and stood there in my boxers and light undershirt. Blushing again now, just a little bit mind you, I peeled off my shirt and then quickly, before I could chicken out, pulled my shorts down and stepped out of them. I turned slowly 'round and then looked Karen in the eyes. "Well?"

Then I almost fell down laughing cause she looked so stunned. Her jaw was almost on the ground and her eyes had bugged out like that guy in the classic film, "The Mask". I went over to my closet and closed the door so I could see myself in the mirror.

I saw a girl, young, naked except for her socks and a tiny platinum snowflake pendant on a delicate chain round her neck. She was slender, her hips shaped slightly differently from mine, her toRso slightly slimmer with more of a taper at the waist. She had long limbs, like mine, although they were a little more delicate and angled differently at the wrists. She had no Adam's apple, and a cheerful face with bright green eyes framed by long platinum blonde hair bleached almost white by the NoCal sun. She stood just under five feet tall. Or in other words, she was a female version of me.

I hugged myself and then Karen hugged me and said, "So, whatcha gonna wear tonight?" as if this was perfectly normal. As if she wasn't hugging a naked girl who this morning had been a boy.

I blinked, having forgotten completely. "Tonight?"

She nodded and smiled "We're going to New York? To see Terminator? 'Member?"

I slapped myself in the forehead and sighed, "Oh, yeah, right."

"Are you stuck like that?" she asked, out of the blue.

I nodded, "Except for 5 minutes every twelve hours, yep."

She let go and looked me up and down. "Well then, since I take it we're trying to hide this from your parents?" She paused long enough for me to nod rapidly before continuing. "Then we need to come up with something, and fast."

I nodded and sighed.

"How about we dress you like Pig?"

I nearly fell over as Karen giggled. I shot her a dirty look and she stopped, but was clearly having to strain to hold it in. I sighed "What do you have in mind?"

She looked thoughtful for a minute or two and I began to think that maybe I should just get dressed in my suit and shave my head bald. Then she grinned, looking maniacal - and trust me, I know that look, it's what my family uses instead of the smile. She crowed, "I've got just the thing!"

---

To be continued in part 7 - Just the Thing!

Yes, It's back, Sorry for the delay. and because you asked for it, it's longer too!

Every girl has to worry about what she's wearing and Karen found the perfect outfit for me to go to Terminator, the Musical.

Chapter 7

Just the Thing

Elan Owen - Part 7: Just the Thing
by Jesse Rabbit

Hey, guess what? I, Jesse Rabbit, am free! Yippee! Done with school! Haha! Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I was busy finishing up some other writing for the S word. and now, without further ado, the story! (Please leave comments.)

---

First off, before we get to whatever was inside Karen's devious little mind, allow me to explain what the big hurry was. See, at this point it was - according to The Watch - twenty till four in the afternoon. Now, normally this wouldn't have been a big problem, but my parents were, as I may have mentioned earlier, taking us (Pig, Karen, my big sister Sam, and I) to see Terminator on Broadway, in NYC, good old New York City. Now, since the orchestra begins the overture at 8:38 east coast time, which is 5:38 pacific coast time, you can see the problem.

'Cause even with a private jump plane taking us from San Rafael International Aerospace Port to Queen's Landing International Aerospace Port in a measly twenty-two minutes, and a Hovercopter taking us from Queen's Landing to Clinton Center in twelve; we still had to leave the house no later than 4:30 if we wanted to be in our seats when the music started (factoring in the eight minutes to get to our seats and the drive to San Rafael.) This meant that my parents would be home in less than half an hour, most likely twenty minutes, and that Pig would be at most ten minutes behind them, 'cause although she is a mega-pain, she still loves dressing all fancy and going to galas and such.

So it was that I stood there, naked as the day I was born (aside from a pair of socks, a pendant, and The Watch) the opposite gender I had been born as, while my best friend in the whole wide universe ransacked my closet, wardrobe, and dresser. I think that in a past life there is a good chance that Karen was a tornado. Either that or a professional room ransacker. She's really good at it. I remember thinking at the time, "She should major in this when we get to college, which, if my life keeps being this stressful I may explode before we get that far." I also remember wondering if human beings could just explode and decided that the odds were likely against it.

From time to time I would look down at the instrument of my doom and check the time, but each time I did so it seemed only a few seconds had passed. How could time crawl and fly at the same time. Finally, after an eternity - or six minutes - she presented me with a pile of clothes by the simple expedient of dropping them into my arms. Rather than letting me examine her selections she manhandled (can you say girlhandled?) me into my bathroom, which, thanks to the foresight of my often deranged parents I do not have to share with anyone.

I opened my mouth to say something but Karen simply shushed me and, taking the clothes back from me, placed them on the counter and shoved me into the shower. "Wash!" she commanded me, and so I did, figuring that arguing would take just as long and I had been exerting myself quite a bit today. After about thirty seconds Karen joined me under the half dozen plus sprayers of my shower. We cleaned ourselves rapidly, so rapidly that I didn't have time to compare my new body to Karen's old one, but I figured I'd have plenty of opportunity to do that when we weren't so pressed for time.

After our hastily completed cleansing, we toweled off and Karen pointed me at the Stylemaster 2000. (Stupid name I know, but it sells, and anyway my sister invented the original Stylemaster Hair Growth Controller and Shaper when she was twelve and Grandpa marketed it later the same year. I figured he'd just integrated the design into my Torture device... I mean Watch.) I assumed that she meant for me to sit, so I did. She fiddled with the controls and I felt my hair change.

I'd only once used the machine for anything other than a simple haircut, and that was to dye my hair green for St. Patricks day. My dad had hit the roof, even though anything the machine can do it can undo, cause I hadn't asked permission first and we aren't Christian or anything. So after another minute the Stylemaster went "Ding!" and I slipped out.

I tried to get to the mirror so I could see what I looked like, but Karen told me I had to help her and then get dressed. So she sat in the Stylemaster while I went into my room to grab her bag and bring it to her. When I got back she was getting out and her normal sky-blue pixie haircut (don't ask) had been replaced with these soft curly waves of medium brown hair down to her shoulders. She took the bag from me and grinned "How do I look?" I gave her a thumbs up and she smiled. "Time to get dressed."

I nodded and asked "So, what are you dressing me as? One of the oppressed masses of the future? A cop? Kyle?" I was hoping for Kyle cause that was what I had been going as before the whole incident started, you know, his first outfit, with the trench coat, the homeless guy's sweat pants, and a bare chest.

She just grinned and tossed me two white T-shirts.

"Two?" I asked, perplexed."

"To bulk you out slightly and keep you warm, it's New York, it's cold, you dodo." She grinned her most obnoxious grin at me.

I sighed and put them on.

She next handed me the spare pair of panties she keeps in her school bag, "In case of emergencies". I put them on, mentally shrugging off the slight unease I felt about the idea of wearing girl's underwear by pointing out to myself that I was now completely entitled to do so, and that it would actually be weirder to be wearing boy's underwear with my new body. These were followed by a loose fitting pair of light grey pants, and that was it.

I looked over at Karen, who had dressed herself as Sarah Conner outfit two, you know: cream, pink, button-down sweater with a V-neck over simple, full-length, grey skirt with a matching belt and tan sandal flats which she was fastening at that very moment. "Is this it?" I asked, thinking big whoop if it was."

She shook her head and smiled, "Just you wait. I have to get something from Sam. Now, while I'm gone, no looking in the mirror, promise?"

I nodded as she dashed from the room, returning less than two minutes later with a can of clothing color spray, some nail polish, and something else in a plastic hard case. She had me stand in the shower while she sprayed the pants, turning them from light grey to a medium brown. She then used some scissors to cut a hole in the upper thigh and splashed the area with the nail polish, giving me a convincing leg wound in the process.

I gaped at her, stunned by the speed at which she accomplished all this and glanced at my watch. We had five minutes, give or take till my parents got home and I pointed this fact out to her.

She nodded and - after applying my hair dryer to the nail polish to dry it out - tugged me out of the shower and out of the bathroom. She pointed to the bed where Sam's vintage motorcycling jacket lay. It was, of course, too big for me, but not too much so, as Sam had outgrown the thing two years ago and had stubbornly refused to give it to me for what she claimed were sentimental reasons but which I suspect was merely an attempt to annoy her younger sibling, namely me.

By now I should have had a good idea of who, or should I say what, I was being dressed as, but I didn't. I can only plead fatigue in my own defense. I put on the jacket and Karen handed me the hard case.

I opened it to find a pair of old style sunglasses, almost certainly borrowed without permission from my eldest sibling, Lawrence, or rather from his room. They were his old Gargoyles, and of course they were perfect, as Karen had known they would be, having been issued as a promotion for Terminator 4 a decade ago. I looked up at her in shock as realization dawned on me.

She nodded, grinning gleefully, as I pulled the glasses out, slipped them on my face and turned to face the mirror where I saw that I had been transformed into a rather cute version of the Terminator, albeit a shoeless one. When I pointed this fact out to Karen she grinned and handed me back my Doc Martens, shrugging "They're the best I could do. But you look soooo cute!" and with that she hugged me.

After I had disentangled myself from the cheerful clutches of the fiendish Karen and was busying myself putting my boots on when the sound of arriving parentals filled the house. To the sound of my mother calling out "Sam! Elan! Michelle!" Karen grabbed my arm, dragged me off the bed, out of the room, and down the stairs still clutching my left boot.

As she did so, she was giggling madly, but I did manage to make out, "Come with me, if you want to live." Sigh, girls are soo strange.

Case in point, when my mother saw me she positively squealed and flew across the room to hug me, lifting me into the air and swinging me around, telling me how precious I looked, even though I was dressed like a homicidal time-traveling killbot. I have just two questions: 1 - do parents live to embarrass their children? And 2 - why is it cute to see one's children dressed as incarnations of evil?. Sigh, girls are soo strange.

Sam came rushing down the stairs when she heard mom squeal and so she had to add her own comments about how cute I was and hug me, too. I know the answer to the question about older siblings and embarrass is yes, so I won't even ask and anyway after she was done hugging me, Sam hugged Karen and told her she looked charming, which made Karen blush really deep. Karen practically worships Sam; it's true she really does.

I looked at what Sam was wearing and gave her a big thumbs up on her Police Officer get up. She doffed her hat to me and said "To serve and protect".

Mom went upstairs to change into Sarah Conner club outfit just as dad came down, dressed as Kyle, of course. When he saw me he grabbed Karen and pulled her behind him, saying "I'll defend you little lady!" which was stupid cause that's not even a line from the show or the movie, but everyone giggled politely. Mom came down a couple of minutes later and - after getting the living room to take a picture of us all dressed up, we got into the car and headed off to the Aerospace Port.

* * *

Now, normally, I wouldn't bore you all with the details of the trip, I mean, you've seen the inside of one jump jet you've seen them all, and since the only people on the plane - aside from Antonia and Neil our pilots - were Karen and my family, you'd figure nothing could go wrong and thus nothing interesting would happen. And there you would be wrong, cause a problem did present itself pretty much as soon as we took off.

I had to go to the bathroom, you know "take a leak" so without thinking I went, I mean no big deal right? Wrong, the thing I leaked from for eleven years was gone and I realized this fact pretty much instantly upon pulling down my pants in the lavatory and reaching into my underwear to pull it out. So there I was, standing in before the basin, trying to figure out what in the name of Elvis Costello I was going to do when Karen (sometimes I think I'd be lost without her) knocked on the door and hissed, "Everything okay in there?"

Since everything was certainly not okay, I pulled my pants back up and cracked the door enough to hiss back, "No! How do you girls do this?"

"Do what?" she hissed back.

"You know... number one."

Fighting back an attack of the giggles, she whispered to me that I had to sit down to do it, and she told me I had to wipe afterwards. Now, I'm not stupid - most of the time - so I figured she must think I meant number two, what with the wiping, so I hissed back, "Nooo, dummy, I mean take a leak!"

This time she couldn't hold it in and just spent the next minute or so laughing at me through the door, which was very rude and not a little embarrassing. When she had collected herself, she reached through the crack in the door and flicked my forehead, hard.

"Owww! What was..."

"I'm not a dummy, dummy! I knew you meant that. And I told you how, now just do as I say, or I'm not gonna help you no more."

So I did, and it was really, really strange doing it, but I did remember to wipe down there. Boy, girls are really put together strange. And that was the end of my great bathroom adventure, at least for now. I tell you though, I was not looking forward to having to do that for the next year. Less than six hours I'd been a girl and I already missed being able to pee standing up. Thanks a lot, Grandpa, you old nutter.

* * *

So we arrived at Queen's Landing which if you've never been to NYC is just so cool. It's this big floating crystal island right out in the harbor, about half a mile from the statue of liberty. And the Jump Jets go wooshing up into space, day in and day out from it. It really looks like this big crystal beehive. It's even cooler at night when it's all lit up and the jump jets are landing in the gel deceleration pools, sending up phoenix plumes of red and blue flame and green-gold rainbows of impact gel.

From there we take the family Hovercopter to the Clinton Center for the Performing Arts, flying past the mile-tall needle that is the Empire Tower. Did you know that in the lobby of the Empire Tower is the old Empire State's Building; although no one's allowed in it anymore until they finish restoring it.

So the Malcom, our pilot, let us off at the Copter port and we walked 'round that beautiful, light sphere fountain that's in front of the Opera House. I'm sure you've seen it, I mean, last years Oscars were held here, you know, when the President performed "America the Beautiful" and "Like a Virgin"?. So we walk around the fountain and into the throng of people all dressed as this or that character from the show.

Now, Terminator is a really cool show, don't get me wrong. I love the music and I hoped I would like the production 'cause I'd been waiting six months for this. (It's one of my birthday presents.) But the one problem with it is that there are so few characters that everyone comes as either Sarah, Kyle, Ginger, the Police Sergeant, the Terminator, or the Shrink. Either that or as a cop, a soldier, or one of the downtrodden masses of the future.

By the way, did you know that going to see shows in costume started because of this really weird show called Rocky Horror Show. Apparently it was a Broadway show, then it was made into this movie which became a major cult classic, which - if you believe this - people would dress up as the parts and, like, karayoke the whole movie and throw rice and toast at the screen and hold up lighters and make up silly comments to yell back at the screen and such. So anyway, like ten or twelve years ago the Rocky Horror Show came back to Broadway - it's called a Revival - and everyone started going in costume to see it. Well, pretty soon they started going to see all the shows in costume. My dad tells me that for a while people would just go in any costume, but it soon became "the thing to do" to go in an appropriate costume. So there were like five dozen Terminators, twice that many Kyles and about ten times that many Sarahs, 'cause every girl was either Sarah, Ginger, or a Cop, it seems. It was kinda funny actually.

Anyway, we get to our box just as the lights are dimming and my stomach rumbles cause - duh! - I forgot to eat a snack when I got home, but then the music started and I forgot all about hunger, at least until intermission. I watched in fascination as first the Terminator and then Kyle appear out of their lightning time portals completely naked (the actors really were) and laughed along with the rest of the audience as they sang "Styling Up". I really enjoyed the first act, but by the time I had laughed my way through "Hit & Run", cried my way through "Life amid the Ruins", and cheered as the first act ended with "Rally the People", I was starving; so I nipped down to the concession stand and bought myself some cookies and a diet soda to wash it down with. (Mom doesn't allow us to drink stuff with that much sugar in it.)

Feeling like I could now wait for dinner, which would come after the show was over, I rejoined Karen who was engaged in her usual activity at these occasions, namely standing at the balcony of our box and taking vidclips down the bodices of the people below. She's looking for tattoos, and she has a truly remarkable collection; ranging from the three dozen roses, to a Yakuza dragon, to what we think is a map of London. She's also got shots of women with popcorn, tazers, books, vidcams, telecoms, and even a ferret between their breasts.

Karen's Life-mother is a painter and her other mother is a plastic surgeon, so they are both way obsessed with breasts. Karen's three brothers - all older - also seem to like breasts, considering that their last dozen girlfriends all seemed to have larger bra sizes than IQ's. Karen claims that her home life has permanently warped her fragile young mind, but at least her family aren't all mad-scientists, right? So what is she complaining about?

We got back into our seats as the lights went down and the music went up for the second act. which begins with, "I've Loved Her All My Life", which is heart-wrenching and beautiful, I admit that I sighed more than once during it. The actor who plays Kyle - Gerald Lancer - has such a strong and soulful voice.

It was in the middle of "Prepare" that I realized I'd made a slight mistake. The soda was catching up to me and I realized that I had to go to the bathroom again. I sat through "So Much Pain", crying 'cause it's such a sad song, and squirming in my seat. I really agreed with the actors by the end of that song, let me tell you.

Finally the song ended and I slipped out of my seat and dashed headlong for the bathrooms, just as "To Love and Be Loved" started. I didn't really mind missing it 'cause I really hate that song; it's too sappy and love scenes make me ill anyway. Mentally I figured that since the song was six minutes and eighteen seconds long and that "Go Faster", which follows it after some dialogue was three minutes and fifty-six seconds long, that I had just over eleven minutes to get back before the Terminator gets hit by the tanker truck, which I really wanted to see how they were going to stage.

Thankfully, I knew where the bathrooms were 'cause we've been to Clinton Center several times, so I just dashed headlong into the men's room, as usual. That's right, right into the men's room. 'Cause I'd forgotten that this was not a usual day. I should have left myself notes. I really should have, right on my hand where I'd be sure to see them, but then everyone would have found out and that would have been bad, right?

So I rush into the bathroom, past these two ushers and into a stall. I was so intent on doing what I had come to do and getting back out again as quickly as possible that it wasn't until I was pulling my pants back up that what I had just done and what I had just seen registered. I'd just rushed into the men's room, which wouldn't have been a big deal if it had been empty, but it hadn't been.

There were two boys, maybe sixteen or seventeen, dressed as ushers and doing slap patches with the letters HX on them. HX is of course HeroX or Heroine X, that new age, still illegal, even though most narcotics aren't anymore cause it causes psychotic breaks and completely clears the system in twelve hours, drug. And I'd seen them doing it, in a public place, while they were at work. And I was a kid.

I figured that when I opened the door I'd find them standing there, ready to intimidate me into silence or beat the tar out of me to keep me from telling the cops or the management. Know what? I was right.

I opened the door to face two boys, although the older one looked about twenty close up - leering at me, eyes bulging slightly and faces covered in excited, buzzed sweat. Hell, they were so high that they were vibrating, the younger one almost twitching.

The elder pressed his nose right up against mine and I had to fight hard to keep from gagging at the sickly sweet stench of his breath and body odor. "Hey there, kiddo, taking a leakee week?" he chuckled.

I nodded, nervous, trying hard not to panic.

"Hey, kiddo, that's cool, no biggy. Yer not gonna say nothing to no one, right?"

The younger usher grunted, "Can't we just beat the crap outta the kid, Diamond? Those are T4 Gargoyles, theey're worth a mint!"

Diamond shook his head, "Then kiddo's parentals would get all smoked, and don't tell the kid my name, dumbass!" And with that he slapped the other hard across the face. Dumbass didn't seem to like being slapped 'cause he tried to punch Diamond in the chest. A second later they were trading blows.

I figured now was the ideal moment to make a break for it and so I dashed for the door. I almost made it too, but they noticed and chased after me.

Diamond must have dove after me cause I felt a hand grab the back of my pants and tug them downwards. I heard a gasp and dumbass said "Christ! It's a girl!" just as I felt the breeze cool my crotch.

The impact of hitting the floor must have loosened Diamond's grip cause I was able to pull free, slip out the door with my pants around my ankles. As soon as I was out I pulled them up and dashed back towards our box, trying to fasten them as I ran. Have you ever tried to fasten pants while running? It's not easy let me tell you, but I did it just as I got to the box and slipped in without incident.

Mom leaned over and whispered, "Feeling okay, kiddo?" but thankfully she couldn't see me flinch or see my heart beating a mile a minute in my chest.

I whispered, "Yep", and sat back to watch the show. I was right I'd made it back with a minute to spare and seeing them stage the Terminator/tanker truck crash was awesome. From there the action quickly spiraled up to the climax.

Mom cried when Kyle died, I think so did dad, Karen was too busy egging the Terminator on to kill Sarah. I think Karen may be mentally ill, she always roots for the bad guys. Then there was the epilogue, with Sarah singing "How Can I Tell You About Your Father", which I shed a tear during, and then the ensemble came out to sing the finale "All Alone With the Future / There's a Storm Coming".

The lights and curtain went down and there was breathless silence for a moment and then a bolt of artificial lightning, complete with a huge crash of thunder rocked the auditorium and the audience jumped in surprise and then jumped to their feet; the applause was thunderous.

***

It turned out that Dad had arranged something special for me, as another birthday present. After the show we got to go back stage and the stars of the show sang me happy birthday, this time with the regulation lyrics.

Herman (Hair Mahn) Lenshure - the guy who plays the Terminator, gave me mad props on my costume and even recognized the T4 Gargoyles. I was humble though and gave credit where credit was due, although I did compare Karen to Skynet (Super Evil Computer with dreams of world domination). Then I ducked as she tried to slap me upside the head.

Debra Bloom - Ginger - told Karen and I that we were both really adorable girls. Both of us blushed, but for different reasons. My dad was going to correct her but I just gave him a tiny shake of my head, this was way too cool to worry about embarrassing Debbie, and anyway it was true now, right?

Gerald Lancer - who as I said before played Kyle - gave each of us, including Sam but not mom or dad, kisses on the cheeks. I just smiled and tried not to blush or rub my cheek with the back of my hand, but the real girls both tittered like chipmunks. Why do girls do that?

Finally, Hastings Cox-Arquette - Sarah Conner - came up with her Dad, David Arquette, who's the Director. Dad says that David used to be something of a joke twenty years ago, but he's really matured since then. Hastings let me wear her prosthetic belly and I let her wear my glasses. (Okay, so their Lawrence's, but anyway.) Then they all autographed our programs and we got a couple of shots of us with them, including one with all three Sarah's and one with both Terminators. And that was that.

***

After that we all headed out to the street to catch a cab to Rainbows and Stars, which is really nice restaurant, and we were chatting away, taking about the show, when I felt someone grab my shoulder hard and jerk me back into the crowd of people. I smelled who it was before he said anything and my heart froze in my chest. It was Diamond and he hissed, "Gotcha, chicky!" and laughed his sick little laugh again. And that's when I panicked.

---

To be continued in Part 8 - Zero to Sixty

Run, Elan, Run!

Chapter 8
Zero to Sixty

Elan Owen - Part 8: Zero to Sixty

by Jesse Rabbit

This Chapter dedicated to my mother, who though we argue all the time, I still know she will always love me, and who keeps telling everyone to read her child's work. Love you mom.

Do you know the wonderful thing about adrenaline? It delays pain for later. Diamond had a rock hard grip on my shoulder, his fingers sinking in deep, deep enough that I was sure that he would have draw blood if not for the leather of my jacket. I would have screamed, but the next instant he had clamped a hand over my mouth, a hand that smelled ten times worse than the rest of him, a hand that reeked of urine and greasy hair and hot dogs and other things too nasty to think about let alone describe. I fought back my revulsion long enough to sink my teeth into his hand, biting down so hard I felt the skin break and sickening warmth cover my lips and tongue. I thrashed against his hold, drumming my heels against his thigh as hard as I could. I even managed to hit him square between the legs once or twice, but I guess he was too stoned cause nothing worked. He just wouldn't let go.

He dragged me back out of the crowd into the tiny park next to the theater. It was dark there, among the trees and stone benches, the lights from the theater filtering only slightly through the late autumn leaves. The distant murmur of the crowd and the occasional crunch of dry leaves under Diamond's feet were the only sounds aside from his hot wheezing breath, that demented little laugh, and the sound of my heels impacting on his thighs and crotch.

I felt tears running down my face and although it was becoming harder and harder to think through the rising panic inside of me I couldn't help wondering if they were tears of rage, pain, or fear. A moment later and I knew the answer as he flung me away from him hard, sending me crashing into one of the stone benches. I felt a snap and sharp pain in my side as at least one of my ribs snapped from the impact. I bit my lip and grunted, too winded to scream as I fell against the bench.

I looked up at the dark shape that was my tormentor and glared, pain and outrage having driven any thought of fear from mind at least temporarily. I lunged at him, hitting him in the belly with my shoulder and heard a grunt, but that was all. I was simply too small and Diamond simply too large, stupid, and stoned to be moved.

He grabbed me, pulled me back and smashed his fist against the side of my face, sending me back again against the bench. I tumbled backwards over it, felt a sharp pain in the back of my head as I hit something, and the word went grey-white for a while. I shook my head slowly, trying to clear it as Diamond loomed over me. The pain was nauseating and my chest hurt from how hard my heart was pounding. I raised my left arm to ward him off and that's when the sleeve of my jacket slipped down far enough to show Grandpa's Watch.

Diamond hunkered down in front of mye, laughing and saying something in a mocking tone, but I was too dazed to understand him. He grabbed my wrist and pulled on it, pulling it up to his face so he could get a better look at The Watch. He chuckled and said, "Pretty snazy ticker, girly. Should buy me a few Slaps of Hex," and then he tried to pull it off.

There was a flash of electric-blue light and when my sight cleared Diamond was not in it. The scent of ozone hit my nose, a scent that often fills my house at times, and I felt like retching. I pulled my wrist close and examined my watch. The face said something but I couldn't read it, my vision was still to blurry, so I just activated the panic mode, hoping that the authorities would get there fast cause I felt like DOS, if you'll forgive my language. Then I heard a groan and saw Diamond sit up, looking stunned. He shook his head and growled, "I'll make you hurt for that, you little bitch!" That's when the tingles started again.

For a moment I was stunned, had I activated the wrong panic mode? No, I couldn't have. It wasn't 11 o'clock in the evening on the Pacific coast, so I couldn't be turning back into a boy. The Watch beeped and I heard in my head, "Healing Mode Initiated." I felt ill as the tingles concentrated in my side, my cheek, and the back of my head. I spasmed as a bolt of agony shot through my head, my scalp simply grew back together, the concussion I almost certainly had set itself, and the bone fused whole once more. I also watched in sick horror as Diamond slowly got to his feet, obviously assuming that he had plenty of time and that I wasn't going anywhere.

As soon as the pain in my head faded into a memory I heard the watch beep again and announce, "Healing Mode Completed. Initiating Danger Mode." I felt a tingle like when The Watch changed me, and my body trembled like I was having a seizure. I felt the muscles in my arms and legs tighten and I knew at that moment what a bow must feel like when its string is pulled taut. I scrambled to my feet as Diamond lurched forward at me.

He laughed "Going somewhere, little girl?"

I nodded and without a moment's thought I took off. Now, even under normal circumstances I should not have been able to out distance Diamond. He was almost three feet taller than me, certainly stronger than me, and knew the area. These weren't normal circumstances. He was on Hero X, which sounds a lot like Heroics, and for a reason. The news reports about people on Hero X - or Hex - doing insane things are becoming almost routine. Things like taking twenty shots from police tazers or jumping thirty feet across the gap between buildings or flipping over an old ground car. He should have caught me in less than a hundred paces, but a hundred paces would have put me at the corner of the building, in shouting distance of the crowd, and that was what I was counting on.

What I wasn't counting on is that he wasn't gaining ground, in fact in those hundred paces he lost at least a length on me. So I kept going, figuring that maybe he had stumbled or been caught off guard by my sudden bolting. I kept running, right through the crowd, hoping that he would lose me in the press of people. I dodged and ducked through the people dressed as the Terminator and Sarah Conner and Kyle Reece and Ginger and the rest, feeling very much like Sarah Conner at that moment, and then I was out at the street.

I tried to jump up onto the hood of a aerotaxi, figuring that the more people who could see me the less likely Diamond was to kill me, but I missed. Now I don't mean I misjudged the jump and landed to the side or didn't jump far enough and landed in front of the aerotaxi. No. I jumped right over the damn thing and landed on the hood of the Landrover in the first lane of traffic, which thankfully was stopped at the light. Mentally shrugging I kept going, running from car to car stopped at the light, easily clearing the distance between lanes. After clearing a crowd, a taxi pickup lane, five lanes of one-way traffic and another taxi lane I figured it was safe to stop, so I did and turned to look back.

I screamed, partly in outrage and partly in fear 'cause Diamond had clearly smashed everyone in the crowd who was too slow to get out way in time to the ground, climbed up on the taxi and continued the chase. What were good-sized jumps for me were long steps for him and he was only two lanes away, his face a reddish mask of anger in the digital neon glow of the street.

I stumbled backward into someone, heard a grunt and a Russian curse word, was pushed off, spun around and dashed off again, zigging and zagging through the crowd. At the corner I ran through a corner grocer and a second later heard the crash as Diamond smashed tight through a display of bananas that I had leapt clear over. I skipped round a corner into an alleyway, sure that I had at least one second where Diamond couldn't see me in which to disappear.

I hoped that the police arrived soon, hoped that he would spend a critical few seconds looking for me and thus allow me to get back to the theater and my family. I pounded down the dark alley; my feet whisper quiet on the rough pavement I noted at the back of my mind, at the same time marveling at the fact that I wasn't even a little bit winded. See told you adrenaline was a wonderful thing.

It was then that I made my critical mistake. I turned my head back to see if Diamond was following me and breathed a sigh of relief as I didn't see him. That was when I slowed down, but in doing so I lost my balance on the slick rough stone and skidded sideways at was must have been close to twenty miles an hour I later calculated. My skip was abruptly stopped when I collided with a trash bin, or actually, just after I had collided with and been impaled on the three metallic rods protruding from it.

I fell back, reeling with the impact and collapsed onto the ground, a quarter inch thick rod stuck through my side, a second two inches below that and the third right through my thigh, entering the hole that Karen had made earlier. For a second or two I couldn't understand what my eyes were telling me and then I laughed, at the hysterical thought that at least the pants had already had a bloody wound hole to start with. Then I realized what I was seeing and screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed.

Distantly I heard The Watch say, "Please remove foreign objects," so the tiny logical part of my mind began to do so, even though I later learned that under normal circumstances it's not a good idea to remove things that are sticking into you yourself, and that you really ought to go to the hospital to have someone who knows what the poxy hell they are doing do it. 'Cause it hurt, it hurt a lot, pulling those rods out of my side and I was feeling sick again; sicker in fact than I had earlier, but less dazed, thanks to the lack of head wounds.

I had just pulled the second one out of me when I heard that laugh again, this time from in front of me. I looked up.

Diamond was there, grinning down the alley at me. "Don't go dying on me before I have my fun, little chica. It wouldn't be fair to old Diamond, now would it?" he drawled, sounding completely psychotic, which I guess he was at that point.

I felt such anger then. Here I was in pain, alone, in this stinking alleyway, on what had already been a spectacularly stressful day - although the musical had been awesome - bleeding, holding a steel rod covered in my own blood which I had pulled out of my own side, the wrong bloody gender, and this stoned junky moron was laughing at me and threatening God knew what kinds of torments and abuses, just cause I was smaller than him and he figured he could get away with it. I had had enough.

I threw the rod at him as hard as I could and yanked the other one out of my leg, nearly falling over at the sudden throb of agony. I heard him cry out in pain and then I lunged at him, rod held high like I was a samurai or a knight or a nun or something. After an eternity it seemed someone was pulling me off of him and telling me something in a calm voice. I was pretty out of it at that point, and I nearly hit whoever it was that was pulling me back from Diamond, who was huddled against the wall of the alley, arms covered in dozens of slash marks from where I had hit him over and over again with the rod. Seeing Diamond like that kinda snapped me out of it, 'cause I realized that it wasn't Diamond who was grabbing me, so I went limp. The rod dropped to the ground with a clang and rolled against the wall with a clatter.

The policelady sat me back down and, turning me round to face her, kneeled and asked, "You okay, kiddo?"

I nodded and then broke into tears, threw my arms round her neck and sobbed. I sobbed out all the things that had gone wrong today, all the terror, all the stress, all the fear and pain and anger and rage. I sobbed for dog knows how long and when I was done I sobbed a bit more, just because I felt so icky and gross and cause I had to. Then my parents were there and the lady cop lifted me up and handed me to my mother, who hugged me close.

***

When the lady cop - whose name was Leslie McBride - told my parents and I that I would need to be checked out by the medtechs I was a little worried, I mean, how could I get through an examination without anyone finding out my secret? It turns out I needn't have worried. Kim Kale - the medtech - examined my limbs closely, looking for cuts or scrapes, checked my head for the same, found none, asked me if I was hurting anywhere and when I said no, probed my abdomen gently until I giggled. She asked if the man had touched me sexually and I shock my head, so she asked me again and I said no. She turned to the lady cop and said "The kid's fine. Just a little shook up and scared." I would have protested but I was scared, and for more reasons than Kim suspected.

Twenty minutes later, after the medtechs had told my parents that I was completely unhurt and that all the blood was Mister DeLuca's - which turned out to be Diamond's real name, Leonard Simon DeLuca. The medtech gave me an antibiotic lollipop just in case I had gotten exposed to anything in Diamond's blood and then let me talk to the cops. Officer McBride was there and she sat next to me with an arm round my shoulder as I gave Detective Marco Antonioni my vid statement. He had this really cool mustachio, it looked like two sideways exclamation points under his nose. He then told my dad that he would be in touch if they needed anything, but since the law had been changed to protect kids from having to face their attackers in court I wouldn't have to appear at the trial, if there actually was one. Then Detective Marco gave me a little cloisonné NYPD badge pin for being so brave and said we could go.

So that was that. My dad asked if I was okay and I nodded and asked if we could go to Better Than Sex for desert and he said sure. So I had this ludicrous fudge, ice cream, and cake thing called Chocolate Suicide which was two triple fudge brownies with two scoops of cho1oclate-chocolate fudge ripple ice-cream drenched in like a cup or two of hot fudge and sprinkled with cocoa and chocolate fudge jimmies. It was soooooooooo good. And I had a strawberry shake to go with it, so that was like ten times more sugar than they ever let me have.

Karen had this raspberry peach parfait thing with fresh fruit and loads of whipped cream and hot cocoa. Dad had the Cheese Cake that Ate New Orleans, this spicy creamy chocolate thing which melted about a foot from your tongue and was transmitted directly to the pleasure centers of the brain where it proceed to do the cha-cha. Mom had the Cheese Cakes of the World Sampler which was eight little cheese cake tarts. Sam had the, "So good you cannot believe it's diet" Black Forest cake, which has like only twenty calories, no fat, and no sugar. Sam claims it must be magic cause it tastes almost as good as their non-diet stuff. (And it does, I had a taste) Pig had what I had, and some of mom's and some of dad's and some of Karen's and some of Sam's and I know that she had half a dozen giant cookies at the theater during intermission. See why I call her Pig? She even stole a few bites from mine.

So after that we were all totally buzzed on sugar and giggling like fools as we piled back into the aerotaxi and headed home. It had been a full day and Karen and I both nodded off at some point along the way. The next thing I knew dad was shaking me gently awake and telling me that we were home. Then he gave me some great news. Because of everything - that he knew of - that had happened, it was okay for me to stay home the next day and - this made it even better - he had called Karen's moms and arranged it so that she could skip with me, too. I heard Pig complaining that she didn't get to miss school and then heard Mom tell her that if she got attacked by a lunatic she could skip, too. But by that point, me and Karen were whooping with joy as we ran up the steps to the house, then ran up the stairs to my room, locked the door and collapsed onto the bed, giggling and smiling madly at the idea of a free day, all to ourselves.

Mom and Dad came up to wish us good night and to collect my now blood-stained clothes that I had dumped into the hamper which can be reached from outside in the hall and inside in my room. They told us through the door to be good and not stay up too late and we cried out in harmony, "Why Not! NO SCHOOL TOMORROW!" and then we danced around the room naked, singing the no school tomorrow song.

---

To be continued in Part 9 - Sleepovers and Free Days

Everyone deserves some relaxation time.

Chapter 9
Sleepovers and Free Days

This Chapter dedicated to my father, who hasn't read any of this yet. And believe it or not knows more about Sondhiem, Rodgers & Hammerstein, Porter, and Gershwin that any other straight man on Earth. Power to the Ferrets.

Elan Owen - Part 9: Sleepovers and Free Days

by Jesse Rabbit

Eventually the events of the day caught up to us, as they inevitably had to, so we settled ourselves into our PJ's, curled up under my comforter, and did - I know, its almost unthinkable - did our homework. It turns out that I'd missed practically nothing, and even if I had our text books are hot linked to some really helpful net-nodes. I know its sacrilege to the great brother (or sister) hood of kids, but I actually don't mind doing homework. Karen and I always make it a race, who can finish first with the most right, but we almost always stop to help each other out so it's usually a tie. And the upside is that we usually finish really fast.

That night we finished in about 45 minutes and were just basking in the warm glow of the idea of having all our homework done and still getting to skip school the next day. Now, I know what you're saying, going to school is optional, but if we didn't our parents would go post-nuclear, and the school would call, and our grades would suffer, and we'd never get into high school or college and then we'd be stuck, working on labor farms like all the other people who aren't qualified to do anything. Dad says, and I know I'm way off topic here, but he says that in his day fast food restaurants used to be staffed by more than a technician and a programmer.

But that was like before I was born, and anyway my dad sometimes says things like, and you will have to imagine the billion year old man voice that he uses, "You know, back in my day we didn't have none of this fancy-dancy Oxy Gen! We had to breath other stuff, like Mud! Or Sparrows, or Water! And let me tell you boy! Sparrows don't like to be breathed, no sir!" or "You know, Back in my day we didn't have none of this Gravity! We had to make do with suction cups! Like an octopus. In fact we had to hunt down octopus just so we could harvest their suckers and hope they didn't wear out before we got home from school! Course, in my day our schools were actually factories where we were beaten with sticks and forced to make second-rate tennis shoes with our bare hands which were bleeding from the hard work!" I told you my family was mental.

Anyway, we were just lying there, listening to the new Mad Monarchs album, "My Favorite Ragnarok" (I love Fever Pony, it rocks, but some kids at school are like, Outer Metal is so dead, it's all Arsenal Blues or Spazz Bop now.) when Karen, who's using my stomach as a pillow, which I kinda hate, but she does it anyway, turns to look up at me - through the mountains of my new breasts, ha, ha - and says "Wanna talk about it?"

Being the super genius that I am my response was - of course - stunningly witty and erudite. I said "Uh?"

Karen poked me in the side, which I really hate, but she does it anyway. "Elan, I'm serious!"

"I'm sure you are, but what are you talking about. And don't poke me!"

She - of course - poked me, again, harder this time. "Elan! About what happened! With the police and the psychopath?"

I thought about it and was really surprised to find that I really, really, really didn't want to talk about it. I really didn't. I didn't even want to think about it. I shook my head, but even I was unsure whether that was to clear it or to say no, cause Karen asked, concern evident in her voice "You sure?"

I blinked and thought some more. What I finally realized is that I had talked about everything that had ever happened to me with Karen. She probably knew more about me than I did, and I probably knew more about her than she did. Not talking about it with her seemed wrong, it seemed like some kind of betrayal, of what we were together. And not only that, but the idea that something was wrong to talk about just seemed fundamentally wrong, as if not talking about it was as bad as letting Diamond get away with whatever he was planning on doing. My mother told me once that hurt can only grow in dark places, that pain withers when exposed to fresh air. I remembered that then and realized that what she had meant was that if I didn't talk about it, it would grow inside me, becoming ever harder to express and to get over. But if I talked about it then it would be a memory and nothing more, something that happened once upon a time.

So I nodded and smiled. It wasn't the best smile by a long shot, but it was a smile. And to the strains of Philis Waverly's exquisite electric guitar work and the heartbreak of Maxim Jushesvili and Eric Pastor on percussion I told Karen everything. All the events as I've related them here I told her, but all in this drained monotone. It told her a confused jumble of emotions and images and scenes, all in a stream of consciousness, the events all swirled and confused and out of sequence. I remember that as I told her about my encounter with the Trio my sound system was pumping out "Subtext for a Sunset" and it was just so perfect, the hard hammering of drums one moment, the long scream of the cello the next, the shrill of the flute as the light fades down. It was breathtaking and when I was done and the song was done I was silent all throughout "Standing before the Wavefront", letting the sound sweep me away as it was intended to do.

I remember an article last year in Rolling Stone Magazine, which I only got cause Mad Monarchs was on the cover again. My Favorite Ragnarok was coming out in two days, no-one on the planet had heard any of the new songs besides the first cut "Sky like Cellophane" which had kinda eaten the top slot on the charts for about fifteen weeks. This reviewer - Kathleen Kross - was the only one who had heard the rest of the album, and she began the article by saying, "Damn, that Bitch can play." And wow can Philis play, "Standing before the Wavefront" is like a wall of guitar noise. It just blasts you back out of your head and you hang suspended before the tidal wave of music. You can tell I love this album, huh?

So after that break 'cause you just cannot talk over that song, I continued. I laid it all out there, but for the second half I felt better, like a switch had been thrown and I was telling a story and not reliving a nightmare. I finally finished up - with the medtech's exam and the detective's interview - during "Poetry of Horror" which is oddly apropos. I looked down at Karen, expecting her to be ready with a long list of comments, but she just smiled, sat up, rolled off the bed, and grabbed my arm.

I blinked in confusion and a little annoyance. I'd just poured my soul out and she was acting goofy. My face must have betrayed some of my emotions 'cause she just laughed and said, "Which song's next?"

I blinked and said, " The World is Dying, Why Not Dance?" realizing what she was getting at about halfway through the word World. So we danced, and we danced, and by the end of the song we were laughing together again.

We collapsed on the bed, laughing and gasping for air, all it took to keep either of us going was a look at the other. We laughed until our sides hurt and then I pounced on Karen and tickled her until she gave up.

After the laughter had subsided once more we looked at each other and said "Snacks!" so we pounded down the stairs, trying our hardest to sound like a stampede of bison, and it must have worked because both mom and dad cried out "Keep it down!" from the vid-room. We raided the kitchen and took our haul back up to my lair. Did I mention that Ben & Jerry's rules? Well, it does, and so do ding-dongs, and Pringles, and Orange Coke (Karen likes Vanilla, she's so weird.).

Around a mouthful of ding-dong, or maybe it was a zebra-cake, Karen asked "Fo, whaa ya ga oo ow?" which I took to mean "So, whatcha gonna do now?" isn't friendship grand, it allows translation of gibberish.

I shrugged, "I'm too tired to use the playstation, so maybe we can watch some vids and open my presents till we fall asleep?" I looked over at her to gauge her reaction.

She had that annoyed look that she reserved for times when she felt I was being an idiot. She chewed faster and threw a stuffed cabbit (Cat-rabbit for those who don't know) at me to hold me over until she could scold me verbally. With a swallow that made her look a little like an ostrich she finished her junk-food mouthful and grunted "Elan! I meant about the watch, about being a girl!"

I shrugged, "Deal with it?"

She sighed and shook her head "How? You don't have ID as a girl, you look different and while your parents didn't notice while you were dressed differently tonight, they might notice when you are dressed like you. And what happens if your titties start to really develop or you have a period. Elan! You have to think about these things!"

I just looked at her dumbfounded. "De-de-develop? Period?"

I'm afraid my mind fried a little then cause I just fainted, well not really, but I did fall back into my pillows and pretend to faint so that Karen would freak out, but I think I may have done it wrong cause she just kicked my in the leg and said "You big faker!" but I was good, I didn't move at all, so she began to tickle my foot. It was really - REALLY - hard to keep from laughing but I managed it, barely.

She finally leaned over me and said "Elan?" but I didn't respond.

In my mind I was thinking "Come closer, Karen? Closer-- closer-- closer!"

As she finally got close enough I grabbed her and gave her a zerbert on her neck, which caused her to squeal and thump me. When she got free she hit me with a pillow until I cried auntie.

"Elan! This is serious. You've got 364 more days of this, right? And that's assuming your grandpa transforms you back at the end of the year." I grunted cause it was all I could do with Karen sitting on my chest, which I found hurt a little, my nipples were kinda sore.

"Elan! Are you listening to me?"

I shook my head and mouthed "Need Air!"

When she finally relented and fell backwards off of me into the pillows, I pretended to gasp for breath and rubbed my sore chest.

Karen noticed and said softly, "What's wrong, Elan?"

"My chest is sore. I think they may be infected."

With a blink and a muffled chortle, Karen dissolved into peals of laughter. I was forced to hit her with a pillow several times to get her to stop long enough to tell me what was so funny.

"It means they are growing!" she crowed and went back to her sadistic laughter fest. Why is it that your friends always find the most humor in things that annoy you?

To kill time while Karen laughed herself sick, I flipped open The Watch just to see if Grandpa had any other gems of aggravation to throw my way. I was only marginally surprised when his holo-head appeared as before and he gave that all to familiar chuckle of his.

"Quite a day you've had, huh, kiddo? Right now I'm betting that you've told your friend Karen all about it and she's teasing you mercilessly. I'm also figuring that you've given some thought to the matter and you've decided not to tell your parents for one reason or another. I'm further guessing that you've figured out that you might have some problems keeping it all secret and that you'll have problems with ID. Well, I've decided to be nice and help with one of your problems. ID."

I was actually surprised that Karen hadn't noticed anything but then I remembered that only I could hear the old coot. I was also wondering just how complete of a profile my grandfather had on me, Karen, and everyone else for that matter. I began wondering if I could find those profiles, 'cause they might be interesting, but first, ID.

"As you know Elan, we own IdentiCorp, having invented the technology that allows IdentiCards to work in the first place. So if you'd be so good as put your IdentiCard in your card reader and when prompted, type in whatever name you've been using, we'll straighten it all out. We'll get you a card that changes when you do. Press the Yes button when you are finished."

Karen did notice when I hopped off the bed and pulled my IdentiCard from my wallet. I heard her feet hit the floor behind me and her padding over behind me as I sat down at my computer station. "Whatcha doin?"

"Solving the problem of ID. I told Miss Pertry that my name was Elayne Grace, so I think my ID should say that, what do you think?"

"Huh? How can you-- ?"

I shrugged, "Grandpa owns--owned IdentiCorp, although I think it's gone to my Uncle now."

"Really? Whoa! So can you get me an ID that says I'm twenty-one?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!!!!!!"

"No."

"I'll be your best friend?"

"You are my best friend already."

"Oh yeah. Never mind then."

"I never do."

The reader dinked, and ejected my card, which now read Elayne Colleen Grace and said that I was female. I put it back in my wallet and pressed the Yes button. I nearly jumped out of my skin when grandpa's voice filled my room, coming from my speakers.

"I've tapped into your sound system, Elayne, so that Karen can hear what I have to say. I want you two to think of this as an adventure, a voyage of discovery, of self-discovery. See, I've come to the conclusion that humans should be free to choose who and what they are, and to that end I spent the better part of my life designing the system that powers that watch of yours. I think that it would be better if humans were born without gender and developed into whichever gender they wanted to be during puberty. Well, I wasn't consulted on the whole gender issue, so I've come up with this plan.

"Elan, at the end of the year you get to pick which you want to be, boy, girl, both, neither, or whatever. See the machine has little problem changing you back and forth because you aren't fully mature. But an adult would take about ten minutes to change and it would be physically painful to do so. So you will have to pick eventually, if nothing else so that your body can develop naturally. At the end of the year you will get to decide what you want to be and then you will have to stay that way most of the time for at least ten years.

"Now, you've also discovered that the watch has some other interesting abilities. Some of these are happy byproducts of the transformation process, such as the healing ability and the panic mode. I will leave you to discover any others on your own. Now, the healing system does have its limitations, it cannot bring you back from the dead and it cannot heal anyone else, unfortunately. It can and will keep you completely disease-free for your entire life, which will probably end some day, but -- with a system that can repair all cellular damage, organ damage, and rewrite your genetics and body configuration -- I have no idea when that might be. Now I've never tested just how much damage the watch can repair at once, so I wouldn't push it. Be careful kiddo, and remember, I did this because I love you. And Karen?"

I giggled when Karen actually responded, "Yes?" cause grandpa is-- HOLY SHIT! I'd just realized that the watch system makes someone almost immortal and lets them be almost anybody. Grandpa was still alive! While I was coming to this revelation, I heard grandpa, that big faker, ask Karen if she would like a Watch too, and if so she should double click the Yes button.

Karen poked me "What Yes button?" so I held up my wrist, and she nearly broke my wrist hitting that button twice.

Grandpa resumed "Very well, Please allow sometime for delivery. And remember you are bound to secrecy, too, young lady. And B-T-W, because I know how you kids can be, I've rigged the watch to keep you from getting pregnant or getting anyone else pregnant until you turn 26, so have fun, enjoy, and I'll not be seeing you. Although I might have some messages for you from time to time. Good-bye."

"Liar, you're alive!" I cried out before the image could fade completely.

The image stabilized and then grew stronger. "Shhhh, don't tell anyone! Just consider it retirement. And anyway, how could you prove it. Always knew you were quick, kiddo. Love the PJ's, Karen." And then the image faded again.

Karen and I looked at each other and then blushed deeply and screamed, cause we were both naked still. "OOOO! Dirty old man!" we said in unison.

***

We finally settled down and watched some episodes of Star Trek: Infinity, although we were mostly too tired to pay any attention. We curled up in bed under a light blanket and snuggled. We'd not come to any decision about what to do about keeping it all a secret, but we'd decided that a boy's hair cut, some baggy clothes and a touch of make-up would have to do to disguise me as a boy for school. Since Karen and I are almost exactly the same size it was decided that I could wear some of her stuff when I needed girl's clothing.

It was also decided that we would not become kid detectives like all those kids in young teen books who end up solving plots against this that or the other world power by this that or the other secret society of evil. So if we accidentally came across a secret cabal set on world domination we would just ignore it. The last thing we decided before we fell asleep was that we would go to the beach tomorrow, seeing as how we had the day free, and then maybe go shopping. It was a good plan, and we were still talking about it when we fell asleep.

***

The alarm rang way too early because I had forgotten to reset it, and I was just reaching over to turn it off and fall back asleep when Karen shot bolt upright and punched the button for me, bumping me in the nose with her shoulder. I blinked in pain and covered my nose, already I could feel the blood beginning to flow, but before I could so much as get out of the bed before I got blood on it, The Watch beeped and my nose tingled. I sneezed twice and then had to go wash the blood off my hands, but that was it. I guess the watch is good for something.

Karen had, of course, fallen back asleep but I was wide awake, so I figured that it was a good idea to wake her up to so we could get an early start on the day. Fun takes lots of time and we had to go over to her house to get suits. The question was, how to wake her up: there was ice, water, ice-water, tickle torture, licking her ear, or sound. If it had been her bed, I might have gone with some combination of ice and or water. Tickle torture and licking both carried the risk of being hit, so I chose sound.

I went onto my computer and grabbed a copy of ICBM's song, "Turf Puppets" which is like the worst, most annoying song ever, off the net and dropped it into my sound system. I then covered my ears with my editing headphones which block out all outside noise and cranked the volume, once again mentally thanking my parents for sound-proofing my room. I pressed play.

Karen levitated out of the bed like her hair was on fire, looking round wildly as she half-stumbled, half-fell out of bed, landing on top of my new Blossom, the Power Puff Girl plushie. She thrashed about, trying to get free of the sheet which she had dragged off with her and when she couldn't she just crawled over to where I was sitting at the Computer station and shouted something at me while trying to mash my feet with her fists. I laughed and laughed but finally, once the song ended, turned it off and removed the headphones.

"Yes?" I asked, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"You are sooooooo dead!!"

I laughed and made her promise not to kill me in exchange for me helping her out of the sheet. Twenty minutes later we left for Karen's, after getting dressed for the first time that day and a quick breakfast prepared for us by the always bemused Miss Wei, our cook / personal fortune cookie. My parents used to eat a lot of Chinese food back in college so when they hired a cook they made sure she was Chinese but still knew how to make bacon and eggs. Miss Wei is always smiling, she's like sixty and has fourteen kids, but they are long grown up and most of them live in L.A. or Sandy Eggo. She likes kids, likes cooking, and likes video games which she absolutely sucks at, it's incredible how bad she can be, but she never gives up or gets bored.

Karen's house is insane, and deliberately so. Her moms are very into Dali and Escher so the whole house looks like a cross between melting clocks and impossible stair cases. They have like fifteen waterfalls inside the house and a strange clock on literally every wall. They have sculptures of impossible objects, pictures of impossible objects, and books about impossible objects. Their dogs, who I've mentioned before, are named Abroz and Zorba. Abroz is a chocolate Dalmatian (black with white spots) and Zorba is a German Shepherd who thinks he is a cat. I'm not kidding, he likes to climb trees and lie down on whatever you are reading.

Terry (22), Jamie (17), and Alex (13) are Karen's brothers and each has his own personal suite of rooms including a bedroom, a personal room, and a bathroom. Terry uses his personal room as a love nest, it's sooo tacky. Jamie uses his as a studio, he's a painter like Linda, Karen's life-mother. And Alex uses his as a meditation room / dojo. He's really into martial arts. I think he has like three or four black belts, but when I ask he only says that he's got a plaid belt in Mi-Kicki-You-Faci, and he always wears a white belt, which I think means he's a beginner.

Karen uses her personal room to keep all her books in. Karen can read a book as fast as she can turn the pages, it's soo creepy, so she's read like two books every day since she was like three. She buys books from used book stores in bulk and she prints out and saves every story she reads on line; she says she can't scroll down fast enough. She even has a catalog of everything she's ever read, with ratings and short reviews. Some stuff, which she's read more than once she has full length reviews. She's just started doing book reviews for the San Fran Reporter. She says that way she gets free books and some pocket money which she gives to charity cause her allowance is huge! She gets money for lunch, money for clothes, and spending money. But she only gets it once each year, on her birthday, so she has to budget it all and she's not allowed to use money for one thing on another and has to save all the receipts for clothes and food.

***

As we dashed into Karen's house we almost collided with Sanna, Karen's other mother, the plastic surgeon, who was getting the newspaper and dressed only in a very light nightie and an equally light robe. Sanna is really nice, but a little intense. She dresses like a "Punk Rocker" and listens to Heavy Metal when she's relaxing but listens to classic and dresses like a "Square" when she is at work. Her hair is really spiky, kinda like Bart Simpson, but a little longer. I can't believe they got Michael Brosnan to play Bart in the new movie, he's too cool to play Bart. If you didn't see him in "James Bond Junior: The School is Not Enough", you should, it's hilarious. His dad was so much better than Walter Fitzhume or Sabastian Niro as Bond, although Karen says Sabastian is the host man ever.

Anyway, after saying good morning to Doctor van Lister - yes, than means that Karen's other mom is Linda van Lister the woman who reinvented the portrait as they say - and telling her our plans for the day, we ran up stairs to Karen's room to pick out something to wear.

I was really nervous, I mean, this would be my first time in a girl's swim suit and I definitely wanted to look good. I mean, what's the point of being stuck as a girl for a year and having to keep it secret if you cannot at least flaunt it from time to time. Grandpa had said to see it as an adventure and people on adventures in movies always look their best, right?

The first big question was one piece or two, and if two, do I go topless? After looking through Karen's nearly limitless supply of bathing suits - the great thing about either California is year round swimming - I settled on a silver one piece that looked like steel lace. It got thicker and more concealing the closer it got to naughty bits until it was completely covering, but the farther from them it got the more transparent and revealing it got, leaving my sides, belly, and back completely uncovered.

It was so cool. Karen nodded when I showed it to her. "That will turn some heads, shame your titties aren't bigger." And then she ran 'cause she knew I was going to pound her for that. And she was right.

Karen decided - once the chasing and pounding were finished - to wear a pretty, teal green bikini set that was only slightly more revealing than my own choice.

A thought that had been plaguing me for some time came back to me, reinforced by the events of the previous night, a question I had been meaning to ask, but had never really found a good time. Figuring that there was no time like the present I turned to Karen and just blurted out, in what might have been the rudest fashion possible, "Karen--are you a lesbian?"

Karen didn't even blink or turn away from her own refection in the full length mirror we stood before as she responded, "Dunno, maybe. Why?"

"It's only I was wondering, 'cause you seemed awfully eager to get stuck with one of these watches, and your moms are, and your brothers are like the most straight people I know, so I was just wondering..." I kinda trailed off at that point, cause Karen was giggling at me.

She turned to me and gave me a bear hug, "Are you kidding? A watch that makes you immortal and bob knows what else? Sign me up! And as for turning into a boy, sure, it might be cool, don't know till I try. Momma Linda always said that life would be much simpler if everyone was female until they hit menopause and then they became men, but Momma Sanna said that if everyone was a hermaphrodite everything would be best, but I think that either would be weird. I like your grandfather's idea, everyone being what they want to be, I think that's best. I wonder if the watch can, you know, make you into a dog or a giant spider, or a dolphin, that would be cool, right?"

All the while she was talking I was putting on shorts and s t-shirt over my swimsuit, knowing that being seen dressed like a girl at Karen's house was as good as telling my parents about it. I was just nodding like I always do when Karen starts rambling on, cause it makes her happy and then she eventually will stop on her own and not get upset cause someone interrupted her. Once I was sure she was finished I smiled "Beach?" and when she concurred we were off, although we did have to convince Linda that we had sun block. It's not like we aren't geniuses who've lived in NoCal all our lives, we'd forget sun block. That would be like an Eskimo forgetting to wear his parka when he leaves the igloo. Man, parents are mental.

***

We arrived on the beach at nine o'clock, after a leisurely bike ride through town to let our breakfasts digest and to make the eventual plunge into the cool Pacific waters that much more enjoyable. Karen and I often employ the same philosophy with regards to triple chocolate fudge brownies or ice cream. We call it teasing ourselves, and it makes every thing just that much more fun.

We visited the storage locker that Karen's family, my family, and one of our neighbor's family - the MacAddams - share. We use it rather than haul chairs and parasols, and grills back and forth all the time. We unpacked our towels, set up our folding chairs, and parasol, peeled off our outerwear, well aware that young as we were we were at least being checked out by the local beach boys and riffraff. The beach wasn't crowded, but then it was a Tuesday and school was in session, but it wasn't that empty either. There were about seventy people all told, about half of them over forty and most of the rest over twenty, so we didn't have to worry about being recognized.

Karen and I, after receiving our share of whistles from some pervy high-schoolers who were most likely ditching from one of the three local publics, ran giggling into the ocean, pushing each other playfully along the way. We would frolic for about half an hour, then come back and collapse on our towels to soak up the sun and recover our energy and then after about twenty minutes we'd be back at it. Ocean water is truly excellent, especially when it's hot out and that day was hot, although thankfully not as hot as it would have been in LA; how they can live there is beyond me. But LA is like ninety miles south of us so it's okay.

It was thus that I'd been back in the water for the third time for about fifteen minutes or so when I faintly heard a beeping noise coming from The Watch, so I swam in a bit so I could stand up and looked down at the watch, but I wasn't worried, I figured it was just someone calling me. I was about half way to shore when the tingles started and my first thought was "Uh oh! The Watch isn't actually water proof! I shoulda read the manual last night!" but when the tingles cut out eleven seconds after they began I knew differently. The watch had changed me again, and from the way the tight bathing suit was gripping me tightly I had a good idea what the watch had done. If I could have screamed without swallowing half the Pacific and without drawing a lot of attention I really didn't want or need right now I would have, cause, wouldn't you know it, just as I was beginning to come to grips with being a girl, The damned Watch changes me back into a boy.

I knew, somewhere, my grandfather was laughing his ass off.

---

To be Continued in Part 10 - Congratulations! It's a Boy!

Bonus Material
My Favorite Ragnarok by The Mad Monarchs
1: Sky like Cellophane
2: Fever Pony
3: End of the World Rag
4: Fallout & Apology
5: Epilogue
6: Famine's Little Sister
7: Subtext for a Sunset (Soft and Hard Alternate)
8: Standing Before the Wavefront
9: Secondary Exposure
10: What Pleases Me
11: The Shelter of the Sword
12: Ride of the Valkyries
13: The Wild Hunt
14: The Tempest
15: Poetry of Horror
16: The World is Dying, Why Not Dance?
17: Thursday
18: The Silence of a Moment
Philis Waverly - lead electric guitar, vocals
Fahim Al'Wadi - bass, electric cello, electric violin, flute
Macha Gordo - vocals, keyboards, screaming
Maxim Jushesvili - percussion, vocals
Eric Pastor - percussion, trumpet
All songs (Mad Monarchs)

Chapter 10
Congratulations! It's a Boy!

---

This chapter dedicated to Rumiko Takahashi. You saved my life once upon a time. Thank you.

---

Elan Owen - Chapter 10
by Jesse Rabbit
Congratulations! It's a Boy!

If it seems like I panic a lot, it's only 'cause I do. I mean, any normal person would panic a lot if they had my problems. But then again, why would any normal person have my problems? I think having my problems may very well be a definition of abnormal. If I looked up abnormal in a dictionary, I would be not at all surprised to see an entry that said Abnormal - adj. - see Elan Owen's Life. Well, actually I would, but it could happen, right? So, as a result, I panic.

It's perfectly natural. In times of stress, some people remain calm, some pass out, some get angry. I panic. But not all panics are the same. Some are really full blown panics; ones that send you running into walls, or boy's locker rooms when you are a girl, or, just start sobbing and screaming alternately. At the other end of the spectrum of panic, some are just mild panics; ones that cause you to run all over town looking for ice cream at four o'clock in the morning (Dad), or make you suddenly decide that lunch would be a perfect time to cram for that exam you have spent the last four nights studying for (Sam), or pull all the cushions out of all the chairs and couches in the entire house because you cannot find your car keys (Mom).

My panic at having just been turned back into a boy should have been in the first category, but this time three factors tempered it a little: 1) I wasn't in school at the time, 2) I wasn't in school at the time, and 3) I WASN'T IN SCHOOL AT THE TIME! So, all I did was yelp and drop down into the ocean so fast that I got a nose full of seawater. Yerg!

At first, my head filled with the thought that there was no way in hell I could get out of the water like this. Our stuff lay twenty feet from the waterline, but less than ten feet from the boys who had been hitting on us and there's no way they wouldn't figure out that I was a boy in a girl's outfit. I'm not sure what they might do to me, either for being a boy dressed as a girl or for letting them hit on me, but I wasn't willing to take the chance. After all, we were much closer to LA than San Francisco and boys anywhere don't like to be made to look foolish.

I looked 'round but with my eyes at sea level I couldn't see Karen anywhere nearby, so that ruled out having her get me some clothes. I scanned 'round, treading water as I did so, and spotted the long brown mass of Bishop Wharf, which I decided would make a good hiding-spot-slash-lookout-spot, so I set out for it, wincing with every kick as the tight suit pinched certain parts of my anatomy. I tell you, never before had I felt such an intimate understanding of the differences between boys and girls.

The swim wasn't taxing and once there I settled down onto the cool slippery rocks in the shade of the wharf and hugged myself, sighing at the trivial unfairness of life that had landed me with a lunatic for a grandparent. As I gazed down at the beach I saw Karen standing in the shallow water looking 'round for me, a worried expression clear on her face even from a hundred yards away. I tried waving but she didn't see me so I decided to call her on her telecomm. Shouting seemed likely to bring a great deal of unwanted attention with no guarantee that she would be able to hear me over the sounds of the sea.

I felt pretty sure that the Watch had transformed me back into a boy deliberately, but still a little unsure that the Watch hadn't just shorted out. Yet, when I looked down at it, a little nervous for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on, it pleased me to see that it was working just fine. In fact, I felt vaguely amazed to see that the face was flashing "Boy Mode Initiated" and "Open Watch Please" alternately.

Figuring that Grandpa could wait and Karen looked more worried with each passing moment, I quickly called her telecomm and watched her scramble over to her bag and then almost dive into it to dig for the ringing telecomm. She looked so funny, I had to laugh.

"Hello? Elan?" She sounded really worried, instantly making me feel really guilty for laughing at her.

"Yah, it's me..."

I would have continued but she interrupted me. "Oh My Frog! Elan! Where the blank blank are you? I was so..."

Figuring turnabout was fair play, I interrupted back, "I'm under the wharf. Grandpa is playing games again."

"Huh?"

"Never mind, just grab my shorts, t-shirt, and towel, could you?"

"Uh yeah, sure. And then?"

"And then come over here, you dimwit!"

"Oh, yeah!"

Sometimes I think geniuses are incapable of common sense or even basic thought. Sigh.

While I waited, I flipped open the watch to listen to Grandpa's newest insanity, and--as expected--his holographic octogenarian face reappeared, looking just as sane as before. That is to say, not at all.

"Elayne, my girl! How good to see you again. You look wet."

And there it was, Grandpa once again admitting to being alive, or at least as good as. "I hate you too, Grandpa," I said with no small tinge of disgruntlement. I know it's an old comment, but what exactly is gruntled? Is it like flammable and inflammable? Or are gruntled people happy, like grunting pigs or something?

"Ha ha. Now, I'll bet you still haven't read the Manual I sent you, but that's okay 'cause this isn't in it. Heh heh heh." Did I mention that my grandfather had a sign on his lab that said "Evil Geniuses: Nature's Answer to the Population Explosion"? In other words, he's a mad old thing. I'm not even sure--especially after this whole gender thing--if they come any madder or if Grandpa is at the absolute maximum.

"Now, I am sure that you are wondering why you are a boy again. Well, I'll tell you. I figured that making you be a girl all year would give you a really lopsided view of the whole thing, and that you would need to be reminded of what you like about being a boy. I didn't want you to become too comfortable as a girl. So every other day you will be a boy and every other day you will be a girl. Now, since you've been a boy longer, I'm going to make you a deal. On boy days you can change to a girl, and back, up to four times each day, for as long as you want each time. That's not the deal. The deal is this. For every hour you voluntarily give up as a boy on a boy day, you gain 1 minute of panic time on a girl day. Sound fair?"

I grunted, 'cause it didn't but I figured that screaming obscenities at a holo of your "dead" grandfather in public might cause more than a few people to take notice.

"Glad you agree. Now to initiate the panic mode you--" and he told me how to do so, which I paid attention to mostly out of habit, 'cause I wasn't going to want to be a girl on the roughly 182 days I had as a boy, now was I?

You know? For a smart person I'm a bit of a dummy. Why do I say this? 'Cause as soon as Grandpa finished and signed off I realized that I could just transform back into a girl, finish having fun on the beach, and then go do the shopping Karen and I had planned to do this afternoon. And it also dawned on me that I'd have to change into a girl to go shopping 'cause otherwise the blank-blank clothes wouldn't fit and I'd get strange looks from the salesladies. So, mentally kicking myself, I decided that I might as well build up 48 minutes of bonus time before girl day began tomorrow.

Now I know what you are thinking. "Since when are there 48 hours in a day?" Well, Grandpa had made me another deal after explaining everything. It was simple. I could cancel a boy day anytime within the first twenty minutes of it and gain double credit for the time. I think the old bat put far too much time into thinking up these strange rules, but who am I to argue. I mean, I'm the victim, he's the Mad Scientist. I cannot wait till I'm old enough to have victims of my own, happy-sigh.

***

Thus, half a minute later I raced down the beach to tackle Karen who was lugging my entire bag towards the wharf. We rolled in the sand, me giggling and tickling her madly, her shrieking and giggling and batting at me frantically, trying to get me to stop.

Once those nice boys had separated us, then brushed sand off us, and then offered--and not listened when we said no--to carry us back to our spot so that we wouldn't have to walk on our--as they said--"Dainty Little Feet". So there we were, slung over the shoulders of two brainless, but nice, if overly-enthusiastic, boys. And, after they had carried us back they convinced us to play volley ball with them, which Karen and I sucked at 'cause we're eleven and not tall and they were fifteen and tall and there were three of them.

So of course, we won. And you better believe it was skill and not them letting us win. You believe me, right? Course you do, 'cause I'm the one telling this story and I never lie. Nope, Nope, Nope. Okay. They sooo let us win. And then convinced us that since we won, we had to let them take us out to lunch to soothe their bruised egos.

Now my dad says lots of stoopid things -- like "Don't take any wooden nickels" or "Don't put all your files on one Hard-drive" or " A stitch in time saves nine" -- and most of them are either brainless or completely obvious, and some are both. But one of the smarter things that he's said over the years was "There's no such thing a free lunch." I don't know if regular girls would have been fooled by these jokers, but Karen and I certainly weren't.

Even if I had wanted to go on a date at all, it wouldn't be with a boy, it wouldn't be with someone four or five years older than me, and it wouldn't be with them outnumbering us by one. But no matter how rich you are, free food is free food; so we let them buy us some ice cream and hot dogs from one of the food stands that serviced the beach and we let them give us piggy-back rides, but always in plain sight of the lifeguard stands.

All in all, my first morning as a girl was "pretty swell" to quote my mom. The sun was warm, the ocean was cool, Karen and I had lots of laughs, and best of all? Pig was stuck in school the whole time! Weeeee!

***

No matter how much fun one is having, eventually it becomes time to leave, so we said our good-byes to Jefferson, Daniel, and Ray. They told us that we were just as cute as could be and gave us a tentative invitation to meet Daniel's little sister Becca who would be having her birthday party at Zavoo -- our local super arcade -- the Saturday after next. Truth be told, Becca sounded like a real brat, but we said that we'd see if we could show up, and we meant it. Zavoo is always cool. We could play the newest videogames and eat pizza 'til we felt sick, whether or not we actually clicked with Becca and her crowd.

From the beach we rode back to Karen's house, called out to Linda that we were back and that we'd be in the shower, assured her that we'd eaten lunch and that we hadn't drowned, gotten kidnapped, or been replaced with alien clones, all at the top of our lungs. Isn't it great when families communicate?

I had plenty of time to compare Karen's body to my new one in the shower, but the differences weren't all that interesting. When I was a boy Karen was three inches taller than me, mostly 'cause her legs are longer, but I claim it's 'cause her head is pointier than mine. Well, when I was a girl Karen was still three inches taller than me. Our torsos were the same size, our feet the same size, our hips the same size. The only real difference, besides hair (mine is platinum blonde and just past my shoulders 'cause the watch had set it back that way; hers is a pixie cut in electric blue 'cause she's weird), eyes (mine are bright, bright green; hers are icy-blue; she kinda looks like a blue albino), and skin tone (I'm fair; she's got a billion freckles) was the fact that her titties were slightly larger than mine, but still not large enough to require a training bra.

I hear shocked gasps from you. Yes, I know what a training bra is. Karen's been complaining that they aren't growing fast enough 'cause she wants to get a training bra and her moms say she's still too small. I know far more about training bras than any eleven-year-old boy should. But, then again, I know more about particle physics than any eleven-year-old boy should.

While we were getting dressed, Karen asked me what had happened under the wharf. She had asked on the beach but I had leaned over and in a hushed whisper promised to tell her when we were in a more private setting. So I sighed and explained, all the while waffling over what I should wear. I had just selected a nicely neutral pair of khaki shorts and a blue top from among Karen's near-endless supply of clothing, figuring that they would make me look like a girl but not automatically brand me as one should someone who knew me, see me, when I reached the part about canceling a boy day.

Karen gasped and exclaimed, her voice rich with surprise, "You willingly became a girl? Whoa! This is momentous! I mean... I thought you hated the idea!" She gave me a hug, obviously overjoyed that I had made this epic breakthrough or something, but I just stood there, stunned.

She was right; I'd willingly become a girl for the first time there under that wharf and hadn't even noticed. I definitely didn't like being a girl, I was happy being a boy. I mean... I was good at it. After all, I'd had more than a decade of practice. So why had it been so easy for me to just cancel an entire day I could have spent as a boy? Did I like it? Did the Watch do something to me mentally? I had to sit down at that, and Karen looked down at me, confusion and concern evident on her face.

"You okay, Elayne?"

I nodded and gave her our personal hand-sign that indicates "Deep Thinking. Please Wait for Brain to return. Thank you for your patience." I think she nodded at that, but I didn't paying much attention, which is kinda the point of deep thought. I sat and thought and thought and sat for a while, mind ablaze as I tried to muddle through the twisted maze of motivation. I finally had to conclude that it hadn't really been a willing decision, just one forced upon me by logic. Logically, I had already planned today as a girl. Logically, I was already dressed as a girl. Logically, if I were a boy we would have to go home and change and then return to the beach which would have wasted time. Logically, if I were a boy I couldn't shop for the clothes I might need on those days I would be a girl.

That last thought sent me down another path in my mind. Was I really willing to go shopping for girl's clothes? Wouldn't that be like giving in? Again logic seemed to provide the answer. Logically, I had no way out of this transformation without telling my parents and there was no way in hell I was going to do that. If I told them everyone would find out, especially Pig and if I were annoyed by my present I hoped that Pig would be doubly annoyed by hers and there was no way I would miss that.

And the patents on this technology would pay for nearly unlimited research and fun, and that was worth being a girl for 183 days or so, wasn't it? So if I was stuck as a girl, I would need the right clothes, right? Like panties; I was a girl, so I wore what girls wore.

That was it, I would have to think of myself as a girl, at least while I was one. The thing is, when I was a boy, I never really thought of myself as a boy. I just was one. Simple as that. How did one think like a girl? I had no idea. So I asked Karen.

She pulled her head up from the book she was flipping through and blinked at me, "Huh? What do you mean?"

"How do you think of yourself? I mean, how do you think of yourself as a girl?"

I guess the question really made no sense 'cause she just shrugged and said, "Dunno. I just am. Never thought about it. I think therefore I am, and all that. Why do you ask?"

So I explained and she started giggling, which kinda annoyed me. It must have annoyed me enough that it showed on my face 'cause Karen gave me that "You are such a dummy" smile of hers and said, between giggles, "Elayne, don't think about it. Just be yourself. Boy or girl doesn't matter all that much. A hundred years ago it did, maybe even fifty years ago it did, but now? Naw! What you do and what you know, those are important. Boy and girl are just things, they don't have that many social conventions attached to them anymore. If you don't want to tell, don't think up excuses, don't try and find logical reasons, just go with your heart. You changed back into a girl under the wharf 'cause it was simpler than not, 'cause today is a day you don't have to worry about being a girl in school where lots of people know you, and 'cause we were having fun, right? So what. That's over and done with. Once you've made a decision the reasons for it rarely matter. It seemed like a good idea at the time, right?"

I nodded, still kinda stunned.

"Then don't worry about it. At the end of the year you can look back and contemplate. For now, just live, do what seems natural, and have fun. You're too serious, Elayne. We're eleven, for Pete's sake!"

I grinned at her, "Okay, okay. I have just one question though?"

She gave me an annoyed glare, "What?"

I struggled to keep a straight face as I asked, "Who is Pete?"

Karen looked blankly at me, totally confused, "What?"

"Who is Pete?" I held it in, but just barely and my sides began to hurt from the strain.

"Pete?"

"Yah, You said it was for his sake, so who...who..." at that I just lost it and fell off the chair I had been sitting on and just rolled about on the floor laughing while Karen glared at me. Finally she got it and --after calling me a whole bunch of names in Spanish, French, Russian, Japanese, Swahili, and even some in English-- joined me in laughing. I was laughing so hard already it's a good thing she didn't tickle torture me for that, or I might have peed my pants.

Once the laughter had subsided I got up, brushed myself off, lifted Karen off the floor, and said "So, whatcha gonna buy me?

She grinned at me, "Well, that depends..."

"Depends?"

"Yep!"

"On what?"

"On what kinda girl you wanna be."

"Say what?!"

"What kinda girl do you want to be?"

Well now, that was the question wasn't it? And I had no idea what the answer might be. No idea at all.

---

To be continued in Part 11 - What Kind of Girl Do You Want to Be?

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit, who may be reached at [email protected]. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

What do you mean you don't want to be a ballerina? How about a Nun?

Chapter 11
What Kind of Girl Do You Want to Be?

Elan Owen - Part 11
What Kind of Girl Do You Want to Be?
By Jesse Rabbit

Edited by Erin Halfelven

Now, I've had lots of things to cope with lately and I think that I've done very well, but trying to sort out my sense of feminine identity was completely beyond me. I mean, I had never thought, "Gee! I wonder what kind of girl I am?" and for good reason. But I'd never even thought, "What kind of boy am I?" before. It just never occurred to me. I just was one. I suspect that making me consider what kind of girl or boy I was, was Grandpa's way of making me figure out what kind of human being I was. But couldn't he have waited until I was older? Like when my body had finished growing so I would know what kind of boy I was? No, probably not.

I thought about the question long and hard and finally realized that I was stumped. "Umm... What kind of boy was I?" I asked Karen, figuring that maybe her answer might help me decide.

She shrugged, "Smart, quiet, good at singing, crazy? You were a boyish boy I guess."

"Oh, gee! Thanks! So much help you are!"

"Well, you asked!" she shot back, grinning wickedly, so I threw a teddy-bear at her, which she ducked.

"So, if you don't know what kind of boy I was, what does it matter what kind of girl I am?" I felt really confused now, and flopped back onto Karen's bed dejectedly.

Karen grunted in an annoyed way at me, "Elayne has got to think about it cause it's important what girls wear. Boys just wear anything for the most part, but even they have types: punks, gangstas, preppies, yogs, rocket bois, beatniks, no names." She grabbed my leg and began tugging me off the bed. "It's important how a girl dresses, how she carries herself, how she acts. You just never thought about what kind of boy you were, but it was mostly geek." And with that I fell onto the floor with a yelp and a thud!

"HEY!" I wasn't sure if I was protesting being pulled off the bed or being called a geek, but I figured I'd go with geek. "If I was a geek what were you?"

Giggling, Karen said, "A geek groupie?" She laughed and helped me to my feet. "No, really. You've seen how I dress. I'm a party girl. I like fun, I like info, and I like looking good. You just toss on a t-shirt and some old shorts and call it good. I mean, look at how much clothing I've got and think about how much you've got."

I gaped, "But these are your shorts and T-shirt!"

"And you picked them 'cause they were the simplest and the most boyish."

She had a point there, and I had to admit it. "So what kind of girls are there?"

She grinned at me, "This is the wrong place for me to educate you."

"Okay? So where is the right place?" I asked, knowing instantly I'd made yet another mistake.

"The mall!"

***

And so it was that twenty-five minutes later, after another leisurely bike ride through the heat, we arrived at that palace of consumerism, Watch Hill Plaza, our local mall, full of trendy places to shop, trendy places to eat, and trendy people doing at least one of those things.

As we walked, Karen pointed out various girls and women to me, pointing out the way they walked, dressed, had their makeup, or even chewed bubble gum. There were sports chicks, moms, goths, working girls, bimbos, intellectuals, grunge grrls, transvestites, princesses, diesels, biker chicks, proper young ladies, and so many others that my head began to swim.

I turned to Karen and whisper-screamed, "AAAAA! Overload! Overload! My Brain is MELTING, MELTING, MELTING! AAAA!" I sighed and slumped slightly, "It's too much. How do I pick? Why do I gotta? You pick! Please?" The last was almost - almost - a whimper. Dignity? Who me?

She hugged me and shook her head, "That would be like telling you who you are. I can't do that. But I can help you dress the part."

"But I can't decide! I mean, I don't like playing sports, I'm not an adult, I'm not a bimbo, I'm not catholic. I am an intellectual, but you said I shouldn't dress like one."

"No, I didn't!"

"Well, not in words, but when you pointed them out you sounded disgusted!"

"Well, yeah. Did you see what they were wearing? Their clothes were rumpled, they didn't match, and one was even wearing two different pairs of socks. Ugh! But look, if you want to go for the smart girl look, that’s okay, but just have some style!"

"But why? I'm too young to pick up boys, or girls for that matter, even if I wanted to. Why are you laughing?"

She looked down at me as I tried to look indignant, "You're never to young to start flirting. And the most important person to look good for is you. It shows you care about yourself, makes you look more confident, more powerful, and cuter. And why not try and pick up boys, or girls, or whatever. Just cause you get them doesn't mean you have to do anything with them, right?"

I shrugged and sighed, "I guess. Whatever. So, are we going to do some shopping?"

I remember making a mental note that in the future I should never speak the word "Shopping" to Karen ever again cause she almost pulled my arm off of my shoulder as she squealed, "Oh Yeah!" and dragged me into some store, I think it was DKHK or Lane Bryant or Yuki Akai or something like that.

As I stood there, staring in silent horror at the sheer amount of clothing there was to choose from, mind threatening to meltdown for real this time, a saleslady came up and asked if there was anything she could help us sweet little girls with, to which Karen responded by pulling out her credit rod and, grinning evilly, announced, "Yep, my girlfriend here needs an emergency fashion transplant. We're here to loot the place."

I went "Huh?" and they both laughed at me, but not maliciously. Over the next hour and a half I must have tried on three dozen different outfits some of which Karen liked, some of which she didn't but all of which I was told that I would look soooooo cute in before being herded back into the changing room once more.

Eventually Karen and Cassidy - the saleslady - settled on a dozen outfits, several of which were "mix-and-match" which I learned meant that I could swap tops and bottoms. They kept reassuring me that the clothes they were picking out would make me look stylish without putting me into a category besides well-dressed. At one point Cassidy even complemented Karen on her keen fashion sense which made Karen blush.

Once we had finished, I figured we would be leaving but as Cassidy began to ring stuff up Karen took an outfit out of the pile and handed it to me, saying, "Here, go put this on."

Looking blankly at her I whined, "Why? What's wrong with...." But I just trailed off in the face of her steady gaze. So I turned and stomped towards the dressing rooms, muttering "Hail, Karen. Karen the great, Karen the Bossy. Karen the Pain in my butt!." I tried to slam the dressing room door, but it didn't work cause of the hydraulic. Still grumping to myself I looked over what Karen had selected and sighed. The bottom was a skirt.

Now they'd selected roughly equal numbers of skirts and slacks, and Karen had promised to help me figure out what went with what and what was appropriate for which occasions as the need arose, but it wasn't like I was going to be wearing any of this stuff around my parents or at school. Especially not the skirts. I wasn't happy they'd selected skirts, but I couldn't make a scene in front of Cassidy, now could I have? But I had wanted to.

I might be a girl, but that didn't mean I had to wear skirts did it? Well yes it did, but damn it all! I wasn't ready to wear a skirt. I didn't want to wear a skirt. I'd feel stupid in a skirt. I might skin my knees if I fell down while wearing a skirt. I didn't want to wear a skirt!!!! So I put on the skirt, smoothed it out like Karen had showed me and turned to look at myself in the mirror, something I had avoided doing while I was trying all this stuff on.

There before me was the girl me, dressed like a girl for the first time, if you discounted the swimsuit. I was wearing a cream-colored blouse with short puffy sleeves, a black and robin's egg blue checkered vest which even I had to admit was cute, and a matching skirt which came down to two inches above my knees. I looked good, I guessed, but I felt more than a little naked, especially since the blouse didn't button all the way up to my neck like I would have preferred. But I did look nice.

I tried stomping my foot and looking petulant like I've seen some girls do, and it worked. I looked really cute and I was sure that I could use this to my advantage, somehow. Unfortunately, the look was spoiled by the fact that I was wearing my running shoes which, aside from not going with the outfit, were bright red and kinda ratty. I was sure this meant that we would be doing more shopping.

And I was right. Shoe store, four different jewelry kiosks, a store that sold nothing but hair clips, bands, and such, a sports wear store, and a store which sold nothing but girl's under garments. The last was 'cause Karen said I should have my own so that she didn't have to share. I sighed and followed along, my new black patents so stiff on my feet that I had to split my grumbling between them and Karen. The one bright spot in the shopping was when we found some panties decorated with Darth Holzt fighting Tyra Solo. Karen tried to hide them from me but I saw and wouldn't be talked out of getting them.

We even went into a costume shop, just to look around. So while Karen was looking at fairy princess costumes and wicked witch costumes, suggesting them as possible girl types to me, I was looking at the Batgirl costumes, figuring that might be the type of girl I wanted to be. Like Batgirl, or Tyra Solo. You know; tall, deadly-looking. Powerful and stylish, all in one. I almost wished I was older so my legs would be long enough to wear those really long, sleek boots, but then I'd have to be an older girl and I wasn't really thrilled with that idea.

As it turns out my ignoring Karen prompted her to come over and see what I was looking at, and then to proclaim me a genius - well duh?

I went, "Well, yeah! But what are you talking about?" to which she pointed at the boots.

"Those are perfect! Sam will love them!" and she hugged me and jumped up and down, giggling while I muttered, "So glad I could be of service." Karen is such a spazz!

And then, finally, we were done with the shopping. We dropped the last of our purchases off at the Watch Hill Courier, so they could deliver it to Karen's house instead of us hauling the load back on our bikes. After that we set out to have some fun and do some window shopping while Karen pointed out more girls and suggested their life-styles to me.

***

As we passed the Western Arts Cinema 20, we paused to take a look at the new poster for Star Wars Episode IX: The Balance of the Force, which was coming out the day before Thanksgiving. We were looking at it with the kind of awed appreciation only diehard fans can muster when Karen pointed at it and said, "You could always be that kind of girl!" and I had to hit her 'cause the person on the poster is the Grandmaster of the Sith, and although no-one knows anything about her, she looks really scary, like Malificent from Sleeping Beauty, only not nearly as charming.

"I am not going to become the living avatar of evil, corruption, and hatred. Thank you, no. And anyway, my skin is nicer than hers." Which it was, 'cause her skin is throbbing purple scales. "If you like her that much, maybe I can have Grandpa set your Watch to turn you into her." And, as I took off running, I yelled, "It would be an improvement!"

Karen chased me all over the mall and the security guards didn't even try to stop us, although I did see more than one of them giving us amused smiles, especially the one I hid behind briefly.

All he had done, besides smile of course, was to ask me in a whisper who I was hiding from, to which I had replied in an equally hushed tone, "Best friend. She's a Dark Jedi with mind powers." He just nodded and chuckled to himself. I bet he has kids or something.

***

After the chase and some lemonade to restore our energy levels, we stopped in at the Tower superstore so Karen could pick up another present for Sam, whose birthday was coming up in a little over a month. Well, I say pick up, but really I mean "fret over like a puppy trying to please its master." Every year Karen does the same thing; spend hours or sometimes even days looking for the perfect gift for Sam's birthday and since its like 12 days before Christmas - which we celebrate in order to get presents and not cause we're religious at all - Karen has to find two perfect and totally different presents. Music is thus always a good choice.

Sam is into Arsenal Blues, which as I might have said earlier, I hate; so while Karen was over looking at groups like "Sonic Blue", "Hammersmith", and "Razorvine", I went over to the showtunes section to see if I could find anything worth spending some of my birthday giftcards on.

Flipping through copies of Final Fantasy, Victor Victoria the revival, Super Mario, Cujo, Cats, Les Miserables, Terminator, Rambo, ALICE! (The new Disney one), and Debbie Does Dallas I figured I wouldn't find anything new when suddenly a shadow loomed over me and a voice that sounded strangely familiar said, "You like showtunes, huh?"

I think I squeaked in surprise at that and half turned-half stumbled 'round to look up - way up - at what was definitely a familiar face. It was Tyrone, and I was so stunned to see him that I slipped backwards and bumped into the rack of CMD's (Crystal Music Discs just in case they have ceased to exist anymore by the time you read this, like DVD's and CD's did when I was five, if you remember what those were). I yelped as I bounced off of the rack and fell face first into Tyrone's chest.

You have to give him credit, I mean, yes, I may only be eleven but I'm not tiny and he was only thirteen, but he didn't even grunt or wobble at all when I hit him. He just gripped me by both shoulders and helped me get back to upright.

"You okay, Elayne?" he asked in a concerned voice and I nodded, blushing deeply from embarrassment while part of my mind giggled to itself and crowed, "He remembered my name!" which only caused my blush to deepen. He grinned down at me and chucked me under the chin, "Didn't see you at school today. We was worried. Thought we might have to get a new mascot already."

I blushed deeper and scuffed one of my new patens against my ankle socks. "I... we... ummm... No, I'm okay. I wasn't feeling well this morning, but I'm all better now." By that point my face felt like it would burst into flame at any second and I felt my old friend, Panic, trying to rise up inside of me but I squashed it mercilessly by pointing out that even were I wearing running shoes, Tyrone could outrun me with ridiculous ease.

Ty patted me on the shoulder and said, "Hey, that’s cool. Oh, hey, before I forget, you gotta get yer parentals to sign a 'mission slip, 'kay? And we got you a date with Miss Vasquez for tomorrow after school."

I looked blankly up at him, trying to figure out why I would have a date with a Spanish teacher. I think I must have looked funny 'cause he started laughing and said "For yer outfit and so's you can turn in the forms and all that. You got a PDA?"

"Ummm.... Yeah?" I said, mentally kicking myself for sounding like a complete ditz.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a palmtop PDA, "Cool, whip it out and I'll upload the forms onto it, 'kay?"

Making a mental note to transfer all the files from my old PDA, the one I had left at home, to my Watch ASAP, I activated the download function on my watch and tried not to look surprised as it automatically interfaced with Ty's PDA, and although Ty couldn't see it, the store's computer and the PDA's of the other ten people nearest to me.

Ty went, "Whoa, nice toy! Gotta get me one of those. How much mem does it have?"

To which I shrugged and giggled, "Dunno, just got it for my birthday this weekend. From my grandpa. I don't know where he got it. It doesn't have a brand name."

Ty looked impressed as he uploaded the files, "Hey, cool! Maybe it's spytech! Happy birthday. Thirteenth, right? You did say you were in 8^th, right?"

I nodded, not wanting to tell him that I was only eleven... not 'cause that would make him think I was a little kid or anything understand... its only 'cause there were only three eleven year old 8^th graders at Cascade: Karen, Me, and a Chinese kid name Xiang Wu-bai, who was only fifteen days older than me. Karen was actually the oldest of us, her birthday coming just before the school year starts.

Ty had just opened his mouth to say something when Karen popped up at my side. "Elayne! Is this the new boyfriend? Ooo, he's big. Hi, I'm Karen, Karen van Lister. Elayne's cousin." She grabbed his hand and pumped it like he was a slots machine, "Can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you! Do you go to Cascade, too? Do you like Showtunes? You must play sports, 'cause you're awfully buff. Which ones? Do you like football? Do you like Elayne's outfit? We just picked it out and I was telling her that it really accents her figure, what do you think? And isn't this hair ribbon just darling?" She said all this in a girlish squeal and all in the time it takes most people to spell M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I.

Looking very much like he had just been flattened by a truck, Ty nodded, dumbfounded at how any human being could talk that fast and switch topics that many times without taking a breath. Finally, after sorting through the maelstrom of questions he managed to get out, "Hello Miss van Lister. A pleasure to meet you. Yes, I go to Cascade. Yes, I like the outfit. Yes, I think the ribbon is darling. No, I don't like show tunes, but I do like some of the music. Yes, I play sports. I'm on the swim team, the track team, and the soccer team. No, I don't like football. Do you realize that you talk faster than any person I've ever met?" thus proving that Tyrone Bigs-Major was both charming and no slouch in the mental department 'cause it's taken me years to master answering one of Karen's question barrages.

As I was mentally reviewing the questions in my mind to see if he'd gotten them, I realized that he had missed one. I couldn't help wondering if he had missed it on purpose or not, and if he had did that mean that he thought the answer was "yes"? I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I missed whatever they were talking about and was thus startled when they both started laughing. I looked up, confused, which made them both laugh a little harder.

When he had finally stopped laughing, which I think I might have made harder because I was glaring up at him 'cause he was laughing at me, he said, "Well, Elayne, Miss van Lister, I will leave you two to your shopping." With that he leaned down and gave me a little kiss right on the lips. "Until tomorrow, my little mascot," he whispered into my ear, breath as hot as I remembered from the day before, and he turned to go.

I blushed furiously and turned to face Karen, ready to give her a piece of my mind. Unfortunately, when I had fallen back against the rack earlier it so happened that my new skirt had gotten caught on it and in my haste to confront my evil little friend I managed to tug it free of my waist. It fell down around my knees, tripping me into Karen. I squealed, she gasped, and we hit the floor with a loud thwump.

Karen and I thrashed about for several seconds, trying to get untangled, until a pair of strong hands lifted me up into the air as if I weighed nothing at all and set me back down on my feet. I looked over my shoulder into Ty's widely grinning face and blushed bright red as he said, chuckling as he did, "Well, I hope you aren't always this clumsy or we are going to need a new mascot again."

After he had helped me up he offered a hand to Karen, but she shook her head and hopped to her feet without trouble. Then she gave me an evil glare.

"Why'd you fall on me you... oh my frog. Elayne, pull up your skirt!"

I gasped, looked down, saw my brand new Star Wars panties, screamed, dropped down to grab my skirt, hit my head on a rack, bounced backwards into Tyrone's arms, and then - mercifully - fainted.

***

When I came to, I was lying on a bench next to a pleasantly gurgling fountain just outside Tower Records, my head in Tyrone's lap and Karen at my feet. They both smiled down at me and I groaned. I tried to sit up to check on my skirt but Karen just pushed me back and said, "I fixed it, and this nice hunk of yours carried you out here." I noticed that Ty blushed at that, which I thought was kinda sweet, and then mentally slapped myself.

"You feeling okay?" Karen asked.

I nodded, and putting on my goofiest grin said, "Yeah, I'm nife. I the had strangest dearm. You there were, and there you were. And you Auntie em! And otoT too!" and then I giggled like I was stoned and tried batting at nothing like Sam's cat, Sophia, does.

Karen laughed, "Yep, she's fine."

And although I won't swear to it in a court of law, I think I heard Ty say, under his breath, "She sure is."

***

After I got another goodbye kiss from Ty - why does he keep doing that? I don't encourage him, do I? - Karen and I did a little more shopping, stopped to get my mom some Godiva chocolates which she loves, and then headed home.

On the way there, I asked Karen what she and Ty had been laughing about but she wouldn't tell me. I asked her again after dinner, but she still wouldn't tell me, and again after we finished our homework which we got off the school's netnode. Finally, just as she was leaving to go home for the night I asked her one last time and she said, "Just commenting on how cute you are when you blush!" and she ran off, laughing like a goon, as I blushed deeper than ever. Bah! Friends!

Well, way before that, when we pulled up in front of Karen's house, we saw the Courier van puttering down the street, the driver a young Latino man in his twenties. Karen and I jumped up and down, waving to the driver as he pulled up in front of the house. We ran up as he rolled down the window and said with a smile, "Heya, chicas. Is this the van Lister place?"

We giggled and nodded, "Yep."

"Could you girls go get your mom, I got some packs for her."

We giggled again, "They're not for her, they're for us!" we chorused, pushing each other playfully.

He blinked and shook his head, still smiling. "So which one of you little girls is Karen van Lister?"

"We're not little girls, we're eleven!" we said in mock outrage, which caused the driver, whose name it turns out was Christophe, to laugh heartily.

Eventually, after much giggling and the providing of ID, Christophe got out of the van and tried to carry our packages up to the house. I say tried to because Karen and I insisted that we could manage and he let us, grinning broadly as he loaded us down with package after package 'til we looked like sherpas in some mountain climbing movie. It took us five trips each, but we managed it only to come back to the van and see Christophe leaning on a floating hand cart and grinning at us.

Together, looking probably as cute as the petulant little girls we were, we said, "Hey! You didn't say you had a cart! No fair!"

He chuckled and shook his head, "You didn't ask, chicas. And you seemed so keen on doing all the work yourselves. Maybe I should tip you, eh?" We had to laugh at that. So we gave him a tip and a can of diet cherry soda, and waved as he pulled away, phewing with relief 'cause no one in Karen's house had noticed us loading the elevator with a ton of packages, me dressed as a girl.

We ran up to Karen's room and hastily sorted everything, put most of my stuff back into several heavy duty shopping bags, and carried it over to my house, feeling very much like clothing commandos. As we got into my room we heard my dad arriving home and knew that mom wouldn't be far behind him, so we just tossed the bags inside. We were about to go down to say "Hi" when Karen grabbed my arm and pointed at me, "You're still dressed like a girl, stupid!"

I looked down and was surprised to see that she was right. I was just starting to panic when a twisted little idea occurred to me. I looked up into Karen's eyes and grinned as wickedly as I could, "Oh no, I'm not. You must be hallucinating."

Looking really confused, Karen went, "Eh heh. Right. Did you scramble your brains when you hit your head?"

I shook my head rapidly, "No stupid, it’s a prank. Every time some one comments on it..."

Her whole face lit up and she started giggling, which made me start cackling and we fell into each other's arms, laughing 'til our sides ached.

***

Eventually we made our way downstairs, just as Pig came home, but she ran past us without even noticing, probably 'cause she was chatting on her telecomm with one of the Piglets (Karen's and my unofficial name for the squad of brainless twerps that Pig hangs out with). We settled into the entertainment room to watch some cartoons until dinner was ready. Sam came home, but ignored us. Mom came home and just called out from the entrance hall that she'd be in her office grading tests 'til dinner. The only person we actually saw before dinner was Miss Wei, who came in to bring us some cookies she had baked and some lemonade. When she saw me in a skirt she just shook her head and muttered something in Chinese, but then smiled and told me that I looked very nice and she thought I should braid my hair and that dinner would be ready in forty-five minutes. So Karen braided my hair while we watched Batgirl.

When the diner chime finally rang we trooped into the dining room and sat down at the table. Pig and Dad were already there, Dad reading the news on his reader, Pig having most likely teleported down from her room at the mere mention of food. Well, not actually teleported mind you, but I've never seen anyone move faster than Pig when food is mentioned. Neither of them noticed, nor did Mom or Sam when they came in. Well, that is to say, no one noticed at first.

It was over salad that Pig first looked at me. She blinked at me, took in the top, blinked again, leaned over to look under the table, and then squealed, "MOOOOOOM! Elan's wearing girl's clothes!!" See why I hate the little fink?

Mom looked up from her salad and looked first at Pig, "Michelle, don't yell at the table." Then she turned to look at me and began, "Elan..." and then she stopped as Karen and I smiled innocently at her.

"Yes, Mom?" I said, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

"Elan, dear.... Why are you dressed like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like a girl."

"I'm not. You must be imagining it." And then Karen cracked up and I followed a moment later.

Mom just shook her head and went back to her salad, muttering about children and insanity. Sam gave me a discreet thumbs up while Pig kept complaining until Mom had to tell her to hush and eat her food. Once reminded that there was food she wasn't eating, Pig of course forgot all about being a brat and went back to eating everything in sight, although once she was excused she came over and whispered, "You are such a Freak!" into my ear.

Dad, on the other hand, never said a thing until the end of the meal, but once it was over he congratulated Karen and I on a most excellent joke. And told me to remember to give Karen back her stuff when I was done with it, but not before the living room took a picture of it.

***

I had gone upstairs to put my new clothes away in the back of my closet where my parents wouldn't be as likely to notice them, and to ponder how I was going to sneak my dirty clothes over to Karen's so they could be washed, when I noticed that the door to my room was slightly ajar. Worried that Pig had noticed the bags and gone snooping I checked in my shower where Karen and I had dumped them to keep them out of sight. All the bags were still sealed so I breathed a sigh of relief and looked 'round to see if anything else was out of place. Pig has this kinda annoying habit of borrowing things that don't belong to her and not giving them back. She's done this to most of the family at one point or another, the little brat.

Seeing nothing out of place I popped some music up on my sound system and stashed my new stuff. Once that was done I changed into my PJ's and settled back on the bed, figuring that I would read my manual until it was bedtime. I snuggled back into my pillows, turned my reading light on, and reached into my night stand for the manual... which wasn't there. In a blind panic I checked everywhere it could have been, near tears as the frustration and fear that I'd lost it washed over me.

I was just looking under the bed for the fourth time when I spotted something. Something small, brown, and chocolate covered. It was a goober, a chocolate-covered peanut. This was a clue. A clue which made me realize instantly what had happened. See what you must understand is that there is only one person in my family who can stand peanuts, and that is - can you guess? - my darling little sister, Michelle, who I was going to kill.

It was that simple. Pig had stolen my manual and now she must die. I wasn't being unreasonable, now was I?

To be continued in Part 12 - This Little Piggy...

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit, who may be reached at [email protected]. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

Who said life doesn't come with an owner's manual?

Chapter 12
This Little Piggy...

By Jesse Rabbit
Edited by Erin Halfelven for posting on BigCloset and Sapphire's Place

So I just marched right into her room, stomping - or at least trying to in bare feet on carpet - the whole way, reached past her and grabbed the manual from where it was laying on her workbench, hooked up to like a dozen gizmos and gadgets. I think she was trying to crack grandpa's security. She even had a fake hand on the scanner plate. " I said to Karen as we pedaled towards school the next morning.

"And all the while you were dressed like…" she had to stop talking at that point so she could giggle. Giggling, talking, and breathing all at once is tricky, especially when you're biking uphill.

"Yep, and she couldn't believe it. Her eyes were soooo wide. There was me - her brother! - wearing a powder blue nightie, silk robe, and matching panties, with my hair done up in twin ponytails. I think something must have fried in her evil little pig brain." I wasn't laughing, too much, but I wasn't having any trouble with the hill and was breathing fine, thanks to the Watch.

As soon as we crested the hill, Karen managed to gasp out "Did she say anything?"

I gave a sharp laugh that sounded a little like a bark, "No, she just opened and closed her mouth like a guppy. I looked down at her and said, 'You've been a bad little boy, Michael, taking things that aren't yours! Shame on you.' And I did it all in this really serious tone."

"And then?"

"And then I just stomped back out and back into my room as if nothing strange had happened. As soon as I got in, I changed back into my PJ's and fixed my hair. I hid the girl's stuff behind my dresser. And just in time 'cause my mom came up then with Pig hiding behind her like a four year old. Mom just looked around and then looked down at Pig with that 'You've been lying again' look on her face and dragged the little troll back to her room for a talking to." We both had a good laugh at the idea of Pig getting in trouble, and it wasn't like she could tell Mom the reason I'd been in her room, right?

As we racked our bikes Karen asked, "So what's part two of Elan's cunning revenge plan?"

I tried to act all innocent as I said "Who me?" but couldn't manage it and just cracked up laughing, getting plenty of strange looks from the crowd at large. I was just about to mount a defense of "am not"s against Karen's preordained assault of "Don't give me that innocent look! You're the master of vicious nasty wicked plots!" or something similar, when a shadow loomed over me.

Well, three shadows actually. It was the trio, who looked thrilled to see me, although I did notice that Davis was giving Karen a once over with his eyes. Tyrone though was giving my outfit a critical look and asked "Hey Layne? How come you always wear a boy's uni?"

Jim elbowed Ty and jumped to my defense, "It's not! It's a girls uni, he just means howcum you don't, you know, wear skirts or summit? Ty, you doofus! Ix-nay on issing-pay off the ascot-may!"

While I just stood there trying to squash the urge to flee the scene, Ty slapped Jim upside the head and shook his own, "No, its not. Look at Karen's shirt. The buttons are all on the left, but Elayne's buttons are all on the right, like ours are." And with that all six of the trio's eyes focused on me and I felt my brain beginning to lock down into panic mode. I mentally struggled to find an answer, any answer that made the slightest amount of sense but could feel myself drowning in the mass of panic that was bubbling up from within.

It was Karen who came to my rescue after about a second's pause. "Oh, it's simple. Elayne is registered as a boy 'cause her grandpa is this nutball who thinks she's his grandson and her parents just play along cause the old coot is like way rich and really screwy."

I opened my mouth to protest this blatantly and ridiculously untrue story, sure that my voice would be joined by the trio's in outrage. And I was right, but they weren't outraged for the right reason.

Jim was like "Whoa! Bummer. How do you ditch gym?"

Davis was like "Awsum! But the dude must be blind cause you are one fly chica."

Ty was like, "That truly sucks. You have my sympathies. Is your grandfather on any medication?"

Well, it's nice to know that at least one of the Trio has a brain, of any kind, no? And then the warning bell rang and we had to dash off to homeroom.

***

During lunch, I dragged Karen off to the library so we could look at the manual together and so I could give my ID to Miss Pertry who looked thrilled to see me and gave me a fond hug. She asked if everything was okay and I nodded and told her that I'd just been having some family problems and that my grandfather's funeral had been just a few weeks ago. I didn't tell her that Karen and I alone knew that the old lunatic was actually quite alive and in hiding at that very moment. She consoled me and asked if I wanted some chocolate chip cookies that her daughter had made in her cooking class the day before. Karen and I politely took one each and smiled as we ate the ghastly things. We complimented Miss Pertry on how good a cook little Alyza - who goes to Crestview and is in the third grade - was and, as quickly as we could without being rude, hustled over to the drinking fountain to wash away the half burned crumbs of what tasted like play dough mixed with lumps of coal.

After we had cleaned our mouths out, we found a secluded table and I plopped the manual down and let it scan my palm. It dinged and said "Elan Owen recognized. Two life signs detected within 5 meters. Proceed?" and then two buttons formed on the screen. I pressed the yes button and the table of contents appeared.

The manual had chapters on every single one of the dozens of menu options, tech specs on all the evil little electronic tricks the thing could do, and ways to customize each of them using the manual as an interface. It was far too much to go into, and most of it was kinda boring so we just skipped that part and went looking for the good stuff.

It was the last chapter that caught our eye. It was titled, innocently enough, "Other Functions" and we opened it with a growing sense of anticipation. The menu inside had these five entries: Conversion Engine, Life Support, Panic Modes, Customization, and Upgrades.

Figuring that the beginning was a perfectly valid place to start, we immediately selected the Upgrades option instead. The screen filled with twenty-two lines of text and numbers. It took me a moment to realize what they were. They were the birth dates of my entire family, or at least my Mother's side of it. And they were in order, but without names. The first was on the nineteenth of that month and belonged to my twelve-year-old cousin, Sabine Winter, Clone/Daughter of my Aunt Tricia. Aunt Tricia's a geneticist and just as mad as the rest of us, so don't ask. From there, it listed each and every one of Grandpa Horace's children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and everyone who had married any of them.

"What the…?" I whispered, confused as heck.

"You said it, sister." Karen whispered back.

After about a minute, I just reached out and tapped the first entry, Sabine's. The whole screen cleared and grandpa's face appeared, in 2-D this time.

"Hello, Elan. Glad to see you've gotten this far. Now since my records show you skipped reading most of the text I'll not confuse you too much. Simply put, your Watch can learn some pretty nifty things..."

Karen looked at me at that and mouthed "Nifty?"

I shrugged as grandpa's recording continued uninterrupted. "...from the gifts I've lined up for the rest of the family. Of course I could tell you what they are, but I figure it will be loads more fun for you to find out on your own, so I'll just tell you how it works. You've got to get your Watch in contact with their gift and keep it there for five seconds. And the Watch has to be in record mode. Now their presents won't all be Watches, and some of them will be able to learn from your Watch. It's up to you to figure out what the presents are and decide if you want to let others learn from your Watch. No two gifts are exactly alike and each will teach your Watch to do something unique. Have fun." And with that the image faded away and the dates returned.

Karen laughed "We have to ask if my Watch can learn from yours. This is gonna be cool!" I had to agree.

"So what kinda upgrades do you figure?" I asked. "Like more memory, better video card kinda upgrades, or like the ability to turn blue, grow to five meters in height, and have armor plating burst out of my skin kinda upgrades?"

Karen giggled, "Or the kinda upgrade that gives you a real personality?" and then she ducked under the table so that I missed her when I tried to hit her.

So I kicked her instead, and said "Ho-ho! Aren't we the little smart ass?"

To which she said something rude, and then I said something rude back and the we started poking each other and saying "Stoppit" and sticking our tongues out at each other until a girl in the stacks hissed at us to be quiet. As soon as she had turned her back, we both stuck our tongues out at her and giggled quietly as we shushed each other.

I checked the time - kooky thing to do with a Watch, huh? - and found that we had less than ten minutes left before lunch was over, so we got back to checking out the other four menus. Conversion Engine was simple, it just gave the details I had already learned plus it told me how to check on how much boy-credit I had built up. It had this little info-blurb that said if I didn't use my panic time on a girl day it got added to my tab, which was cool. It also had a switch that would let me set boy days to auto cancel, which wasn't. Life Support had lots of technical stuff about how the watch kept me safe and healed me and all the things I'd already discovered or been told about. The only new thing it had to tell was that it wasn't very effective if I was being electrocuted while it tried to heal me, which is a good thing to know I guess. The Panic Modes section was all old hat, absolutely nothing new there aside from the fact that the watch could trigger Panic Mode on it's own if I was badly injured or my vital signs became too unstable, like say, if I was being electrocuted while the Watch was trying to heal me. It also told me how to program a voice command to panic mode, so I did. My word was Polyvinyl Chloride Resin which I figured I was unlikely to say very often. Karen had suggested "Michelle is a sweetheart" but I doubted I could bring myself to say that even if my life was in danger.

The Customization menu - on the other hand - had so many interesting things that it was hard to pick just where to start. The controls were grouped into four categories: Skin, Hair, Eyes, and Piercings. The Skin group told me how to customize my tan, give myself freckles or moles, and even had a tattoo control that would allow me to design and apply my own tattoos, painlessly. The Hair control was exactly the same as the Stylemaster, except it worked much faster and allowed me to control hair anywhere on my body. Karen said that I should give myself a long white beard and call myself "Merlayne" So I hit her. The Eyes allowed me to change the color of my eyes, but that was it, and I liked mine the color they are, so that wasn't very interesting. Lastly, the Piercing controls were really cool, but some of the settings were really creepy. Why would anyone want the webbing on their hands pierced. And some of them weren't even that nice. Yerg!

Karen was already making plans to reformat me into - as she put it - "Elayne v2.1" when the bell rang and we had to get to class.

***

I'm not so amazed now, but that day I was simply stunned that nobody seemed to notice that I was a girl. I mean, I did get some looks that might have been trying to figure out what was different, and about twenty people told me that the haircut looked good, and three sixers called me ma'am, but no-one who knew me seemed to notice I was a girl. No one. Hunter Darby, the school moron and chief bully, did call me a sissy and punch me in the arm as we passed between classes, but he did that to anyone smaller than him, which was everyone except Davis and Tyrone, and he out massed either of them, and this kid Aaron Matthews, who has a weight problem. So, that was no big deal.

Just FYI, Hunter has been out of sorts since the end of last school year since when he's been having problems with every piece of electronics equipment he tries to use. It's like he is being haunted by a techno-poltergeist, but I don't know anything about that, heh, heh, heh.  Not a thing.

Now I'd like to claim that I didn't mess with the manual again until after school and that I paid attention in all of my classes, but I'd be lying through my teeth, or at least through my pixels, if I said that. I spent all of study hall reading the technical part, which was okay 'cause it's study hall. Then in choir Miss Roston noticed almost immediately that my voice was higher and shifted me into the supra-soprano section. Then in Lit I completely ignored the lecture so I could give myself a light full body tan, remove what little body hair I had, give myself a small scattering of freckles, changed my hair style to the androgynous but stylish one that Karen had designed for me, and brightened my highlights, just for fun cause I didn't know what highlights were. And then in Poly-Civ I spent the hour designing a huge blue and gold dragon tattoo that would cover my entire back, one of my thighs, one of my arms, and much of my torso. It was breathing fire and holding a sword in one claw and an orb in the other. My mother would freak if she saw it, but it looked so cool. I also designed a little one, of a blue mask butterfly, which I actually put on my ankle where no-one could see.

That almost turned out to be a disaster though, cause it tingled like crazy as it formed and it spasmed so hard that I almost kicked Charlyenne Harris, the girl who sits in front of me, in the butt. Instead I jerked it sideways and just banged my shin into one of the legs of the desk, which hurt like hell. I sent grandpa a very annoyed missive about that, let me tell ya.

***

When the final bell rang, I was just about to grab Karen and drag her off somewhere so I could show her what I'd come up with when the Watch blinged and announced that I had an appointment. For a minute, I couldn't remember what it was but then memories of the day before came rushing back, along with a deep blush, and I remembered. I had to go get my cheerleader uniform. "Yippee?"

I told Karen what was going on and she insisted that she was coming with me.

"You'll be soooooo cute! Do you get pompoms? Are you going to do your hair up in pigtails? On Spirit Days are you going to come to school in your uniform?"

I stoically ignored her and stopped a passing kid who was carrying a Spanish text book to ask him where Miss Vasquez's room was.

Miss Vasquez, it turns out, was a short Spanish woman, with iron-gray hair, of about seventy. Her bearing and manner had that strange combination of iron-clad no-nonsense and grandmotherly compassion that you find in some of the best teachers. She was all business though, and began talking rapidly as soon as I entered the room, "Elayne Grace? These are Tabitha Moorehead and Agnes Watson, the Cheer Captain and her second. School policy requires they be here for your fitting to ensure nothing untoward occurs. Your friend can sit over there or wait outside." She pressed a button on her desk, the door latched and locked itself and a sliding plate of metal covered the window. "Please get undressed, Miss Grace. There are no recording devices or other forms of surveillance."

You'd think that after all the times in health class that I'd be used to being naked in front of people by now, wouldn't you? Well normally, I wouldn't have had a problem, but this was going to be my first time as a girl, and let me tell you, I felt those four pairs of eyes burning into my skin like lasers. Even Karen's eyes seemed too hot. I stood there for several moments, breathing slowly and trying to suppress the urge to spontaneously wig out, or worse yet back out of the whole thing, which would have meant breaking my word. I mean, I still wasn't sure this as the best idea in the world. In fact, I think that at that moment I was pretty much assumed that it was the worst idea in the world, possibly in the whole history of space-time in fact. But I'd given my word, and really, what could it hurt?

So, I did it. I took off my clothes, even my socks and my pendant. Let me tell you, my skin was so red you would have had trouble picking me out from a bunch of strawberries.

"The watch, too, Miss Grace."

I blinked, I'd forgotten about that. "Umm, it doesn't come off, Miss Vasquez."

She humphed and sighed "Well, if you weren't a mascot, I'd insist, but since you wont be doing any routines with the squad I don't suspect that it matters. Anyway, please go stand in the fitter. And Miss Grace?"

"Yes, Miss Vasquez?"

"Make sure that tattoo isn't visible when you are in uniform."

"Yes, Miss Vasquez. And it's only a temp." And with that I stood in the fitter and fifteen minutes later Miss Vasquez gave me a complete cheerleader's uniform: panties, sports bra, pleated skirt, fitted top with Joey the Echidna's head between the C and the M, and bloomers which are like over-panties. And all in the school's Maroon and Gold.

I tried them on, and - of course - they fit like a custom-tailored glove. Miss Vasuqez nodded and said I did the uniform proud. Tabitha and Agnes both said I looked so cute and Karen had to stifle an attack of the giggles. I felt like a marigold.

Miss Vasquez said that she'd get me my spare uniforms and cold weather gear by next Monday or Tuesday and asked if I wanted her to send my parents the bill or if I wanted to take it home myself. I opted for the safer route and took it myself. Then she gave me a keycard that would get me into the cheerleaders' locker room and Sports Heaven and shooed us out the door. Tabitha and Agnes both gave me a hug and welcomed me to the team, well kinda, and said that they would see me on Saturday. Unfortunately, they both ran off before I could say, "Saturday?"

I wondered what was Saturday, but neither Karen nor I had the faintest idea.

---

To be continued in Part 13 - "There is No Part 13!"

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit, who may be reached at [email protected]. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

What? You thought Jesse was kidding? There is no chapter thirteen. -- Erin

Safink de vorld again, Never vanted to. Vhat am I to do? Can't help it!

Chapter 14
Saving the World, Again

---

Editor's Note: Jesse wasn't kidding last time, there is no Chapter 13. There's a chapter between 15 and 16 titled "Not Chapter 13", though. :) We'll get to that later. -- Erin

---

By Jesse Rabbit
Edited by Erin Halfelven of bigcloset.ateros.com for display on BigCloset and Sapphire's Place

Sorry for the delay, My life was busy. I graduated from University and now have my BS, so I'm totally qualified to write fiction for a living right? I hope my absence has only made you long for the story even more. Thanks loads and keep on dancing.

Chapter 14 - Saving the World, Again.

There was no Chapter 13, it got classifed by NSA, No Such Agency.

There I was, finger on the trigger, looking down the barrel of the sniper rifle, one round of ammunition left, poised at a moment of indecision. I felt the razor blade of time, shaving each tiniest sliver off, and I knew I had only one chance. This was it, rush things and fire too soon, Tragedy. Hesitate even a second too long, Tragedy. Get it just right, and I was a hero, victory would be mine. I strengthened my resolve, screwed down my focus, and waited, letting time wash over me, bringing me to the very crux of the matter. My target shifted and without even thinking I pulled the trigger. The invader warlord's head exploded and Karen tackled me, crowing with triumph.

"That was soo cool! I can't believe you finally did it." Karen bubbled as she hugged me.

The credits were rolling now and I poked at her, "Hey, leggo. I finally did it, I want to see the secret ending." Millennium Agent was one of my favorite games and after having played through it about two dozen times I had finally achieved the ultimate victory, the almost impossible task of completing the game without resupplying once, without being healed, without saving, and without getting hurt. The secret ending played, but I'm not gonna tell you what it was, cause that would spoil it and it's a secret! But I will tell you that I got to register my victory on the Millennium Agent net node, and that I was only the 14th person in the world to do it.

When I powered down the PS5 I heard some applause and looked over at Karen, but it wasn't her, so I turned around to find Sam and Mom standing behind me, clapping and smiling. I flushed but bowed.

"Very Impressive, but did you finish your homework first, young man?" my mother asked.

"And, what's with the ninja get up?" my always fashion conscious sister added.

"It's just a black jumpsuit. It's comfortable. It's easier to move in than my school uniform. And it's got this neat harness and all these pockets, so I can attach a drink bag to it and store snacks in the pocket" I replied, trying to dodge the homework question, but one look at my mother's face told me it wasn't going to work. "We're gonna do it after dinner. I promise."

"You'd better, or no games for a week. Now go wash up, Miss Wei's almost got dinner ready."

So Karen and I scampered, and that night at dinner I wore Karen's ost recent Halloween costume, which was Maid Marion (Mine had been Robin Hood, of course). Pig threw another hissy fit and got sent to her room and dad told me to stop antagonizing my sister and to stop calling her the family pet.

***

Karen had to go home after we finished our homework and I was just getting ready for some tinkering in my lab when my door buzzed and the yellow door light flashed. I had installed the light because sometimes, when I am wearing headphones I can't hear the buzzer and also, some power tools can be very loud. I put down what I was working on and keyed the intercom set into my work bench, "Yellow? Is that you Pig? Cause if it is, go away."

When I released the button the intercom went bzzzt! for a second and then Sam's voice came through it, "Lil Bro. Let me in."

"Whatcha want? I'm busy."

"Let me in you twerp, we need to talk." I could just imagine her standing outside my door, hands on her hips, glaring at the intercom box.

"Talk about what?" It's not that I don't like Sam, really I do. It's just that she's annoying. She seems to think that being the oldest sib still living at home that she can boss me around and that it is her duty to give me grief about almost everything I do that is even slightly out of line.

"Elan, just open the door and stop being a little shit, okay. I'm serious! We need to talk."

I'd had enough of this, "Don't wanna. Dad already told me to stop with Pig and I will, at least for a while, so I don't need to hear it from you too, okay?"

The intercom went bzzt! for twice as long this time and then she said, in a much softer voice, "Please Elan. Let me in, I promise it's nothing to do with you annoying Michelle. I really want to talk to you, Please. You can keep the jacket once it's back from the cleaners if you let me in."

Knowing I was going to regret this, but also knowing that at the very least I would get a cool jacket out of it I sighed and let her in. "Okay, but when I say get out, you promise to get out?"

She sighed and ruffled my hair, which I think ought to be against the law or something, and flopped down into one of my game chairs--and by my game chairs I mean the ones I had designed, with vibration and sound systems laced through them, hydraulic controls to make them tilt like vehicles did, and controller pads built into the armrests, plus they were way comfy. She gave me a smile and, crossing her legs under her, said, "Close the door kiddo, and let's talk."

Once I had complied and taken a seat in the other game chair I said, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, sis?"

Looking down at her lap and taking a deep breath she began, "I'm just worried about you, kiddo. Ever since we got back from NYC and the... incident... you've been acting kinda odd. I mean, you've been dressing up like a girl at dinner, you've been walking a little different, I know no one else has noticed but you've gotten your ears pierced, and since the holes are already healed you must have had it professionally done and not at some mall kiosk. Elan, what's going on?"

It's a good thing she wasn't looking right at me because I had gone completely rigid when she mentioned how I was walking and then started twitching when she got to the issue of my ears. I tried to control the surge of panic that was trying to rise up and take control and force myself to relax physically so that when she did look up she would see me looking innocent, or confused, or, or, or anything other than TOTALLY PANICKED!

In a voice that was at least an octave higher than it should have been and trembling to boot, I managed to get out a totally unconvincing, "Wh...what are you talking about? I... I'm fine... Really!"

"Elan, do you remember the date I had last month without asking mum and dad for permission?"

That non-sequitur nearly snapped me out of my panic, but I did manage to get out a confused "Huh?"

"Did you know that they assigned me to two months laundry detail as punishment?"

I shook my head, mostly to indicate that I didn't know but also in a vain attempt to clear my befuddled brain.

She looked up at me, "Elan, are you wearing panties?"

I twitched violently and shook my head, "N... n... no... no... of course not.... No. Why would.... Why do you.... Ummm.... What?" I managed to get out.

She smiled ruefully. "The last three days there have been no dirty underwear in your laundry hamper. Well, there was the pair you wore to school--ewww by the way--but none with any blood on them, and you were covered in it. The next day your clothes were spotless, completely clean. Elan they still had those little lines they get from being folded and compressed. And when I collected your clothes about ten minutes ago, there were no underwear period. Just your school shirt and pants. So I put two and two together and got five 'cause I was clearly missing something. The only thing I could think of was that you were hiding your underwear, and I couldn't figure out why until...well until I figured out that you've been dressing like a girl, wearing your hair kinda feminine, and generally acting kinda girlish. Not a lot, but more than normal."

She regarded me coolly, but with a little touch of fear at the corners of her eyes. I could tell that she was worried that she might have upset me or made me mad at her and that convinced me that I'd have to tell her something--maybe not the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me todd, but something. I slumped back into my chair, the panic draining out of me and I nodded. "You won't tell mum and dad will you?"

She shook her head and gave me a faint smile, "No way. I promise kiddo. But why? I mean, are you a transvestite now? Are you gay, 'cause that's okay if you are, but...."

I laughed and shook my head. "No, it's nothing like that... I... I... I am a girl."

She blinked at me and went, "Heh?

"I'm a girl."

"As in a girl trapped in a boy's body?"

"No, as in a girl in a girl's body." I tried not to smile, this was actually fun. Now all I had to do was tell her enough of the truth that she would believe me, but keep the fact that this wasn't my idea and that grandpa was a complete and total nutter who was, FYI, still among the living, to myself. I also had to convince her that I had no idea how it had been done and no idea that the watch was involved in any way, shape or form. Good thing I'm so damn smart, eh?

"Elan," she said, looking cross, "This isn't funny. I changed your diapers when you were a baby. You are a boy. I know. You used to run naked through the house yelling that you were a fire truck and waving your winky around claiming it was a fire hose. It's a good thing you didn't piddle on everything or mom would have sold you to the tech-gypsies."

"I was a boy, yep you betcha, but not anymore." And with that I hopped to my feet and pulled down the bottoms of my PJ's. "See?" I said, stifling a giggle as her eyes went wide and then rolled back into her head. She slumped in the chair which, having been designed with gamers in mind, reconfigured itself when she went limp to keep her from slumping to the floor. The chair slowly unfolded into a cot so that she was lying comfortably and flat.

I grinned and, pulling up my Pj's bottoms, went into the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. As I went I opened the watch and hissed, "Got any bright ideas grandpa?" although I wasn't sure if he could hear me.

Twenty seconds later the voice of the not so late Horace Winter said in my inner ear, "Oh! So you've let the cat out of the bag have you? And it's up to me to put things right?"

I hissed as softly as I could, "This is all your fault in the first place, you loon! Help me keep this under control." I softly draped the damp cool cloth over Sam's forehead and went into my workshop to hiss at my watch some more.

"Well, never let it be said that a good contingency plan is not vital in all things. If you look under your bed, on the left hand side near the foot, up in the frame, you will find something I left for you. And tell Sam not to worry so much, it will give her wrinkles." And with that he disconnected and I heard Sam stirring in the other room.

As quick as I could I dashed over to my bed and felt around where I had been told to. My hand felt something cold and smooth which I wriggled a bit and it came free in my hand. I pulled it out and was astounded to see a canister of medical grade nano-reconstructors. A disk fell to the floor from under my bed and I picked it up. Its label was in my hand writing and read, "Project #617: Gender Reversal by Means of Nano-Machines."

I giggled, that had been my science fair project the previous year. One for which I had won a national award, and also a visit from the NMRC (Nano-Machine Regulatory Council) who wanted to know where I had gotten Medical Grade Nano-Machines. In case you don't know what Nano-Machines are, they are tiny, like sub-microscopic, machines that are designed to perform tasks too delicate or small for humans to do them. Nano-Reconstructors are Nano-Machines that work inside living bodies. They are usually used to hunt down and kill cancer cells and viruses. They are kinda dangerous. I had, of course, gotten mine from my father, the Robotics engineer, and had used them to perform experiments on mice and rats. The process had taken about a week and had had to be closely monitored of course. My work had been so successful that the AMA (American Medical Association) had given me a special award and then licensed my work so they could develop it for humans, although Grandpa's Watch made that technology useless now. But it was the perfect cover story.

As I straightened up from where I had knelt next to my bed I heard a groan. I quickly slipped back towards the chairs. She was sitting up now and I flopped into my chair facing her. "Heya sis, have a good nap?" She shook her head to clear it and I tossed the canister into her lap. "That explain things?"

Picking up the canister and looking at it in a confused manner she gasped and looked up at me. "You used these on yourself? Elan! That was really stupid! You know mum and dad don't allow experimentation on humans! Especially not on yourself...or your siblings!" she added as an afterthought.

I laughed, "No, no, no. Grandpa made those for me. Before he died. Right before he died as it turns out. He took my work and improved on it, did all the testing and stuff. He said it was safe to use. And don't worry. I just wanna see what being a girl is like. I figure it will be an experiment. But you gotta promise not to tell anyone, okay?"

"Well...do you swear you didn't do this to yourself?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Then I won't tell." She gave me a hard look, "But I'm not gonna lie if mum or dad figure anything out. So how long am I going to have two sisters for?"

With a shrug I said, trying to seem casual, "Oh, about a year, maybe less if the secret gets out. I think that will be long enough. Then I'll decide if I wanna change back or not."

"I suppose Karen was in on this?"

I grinned, "Karen and I share a brain, didn't you know that?" I grinned, "Wanna see my new wardrobe?"

Sam blinked and then smiled, "Sure!"

Isn't it great belonging to a family insane enough to just nod and smile when you say, "Oh, by the way, I've switched genders for a year as part of a scientific experiment, don't mind me."

***

School the next day, which was Thursday, was pretty laid back...until lunch time. The Trio grabbed Karen and I just as we got out of the lunch line and dragged us off to their lair. Sports Heaven was significantly more crowded than it had been the last time I had been inside. Tyrone wrapped an arm round my shoulder and walked me over to a group of about nine girls, one of whom was Agnes Watson, the Cheer Second, whom I had met the previous day at my uniform fitting. Ty introduced me around, giving my shoulder a soft squeeze from time to time. I met Andrea Meechum, a swimmer and Cheerleader; Vicky Meechum, Andrea's sister, track star, and Cheerleader; Diana Gusman and Jill Tores, who played soccer and were Cheerleaders; and Maxi Maxime, Lu Wong, and Jill Linsner who played basketball and who claimed that Cheerleaders were all airheads, but I don't think they were being too serious as everyone giggled and all the cheerleaders started acting like total blondes. I did notice that Lu Wong was wearing a varsity jacket that had the name Jim Golwar sewn into it and that Diana and Vicky were holding hands. They seemed like a nice bunch of girls.

Then Karen and I were introduced to the boys, all of whom seemed to play soccer, basketball, softball, or run track, although if I had to guess I'd say that was cause the boy's swim team always met right before lunch and 'cause our school didn't have a football or baseball team. I did get to meet the two male cheerleaders, Harold Jurgens and Ernesto Gusman who was Diana's twin. They seemed nice enough too, although it was clear that Harold didn't like Ty one bit if the cold looks that passed between them were any indication.

Then the boys, or at least Davis and Tyrone guided us to a couch which was miraculously uncluttered with chatting athletes or book bags. As we sat eating, Karen and I nestled in between Davis and Ty, I watched Jim saunter up to Lu Wong and flop next to her, much to the irritation of several of the other girls. I turned to Tyrone, opening my mouth to say something along the lines of "Is he always that big a putz?" but the words never made it out of my mouth.

Tyrone was looking down at me, a kinda quirky smile making his face a little lopsided, his eyes a deep, almost bottomless black. I felt my heart skip a beat, and felt suddenly like I had vertigo. They seemed to loom towards me and I shivered. Suddenly I realized that they were getting nearer but before I could do more than understand my grievous error--that I had turned my head up to a boy who had already kissed me three times with my mouth slightly ajar.

Of course that's when he kissed me, again. The kiss went on and on and on and on and somewhere in the middle of it I felt his tongue touch mine and his arms wrap around me and my brain went totally numb. When the kiss ended, after who knows how long, he gently released me and gave me another one of those quirky smiles. "Mmmm," he said, "Cherry lip balm, my favorite."

And then he went back to eating his lunch, while I sat there totally stunned until Karen leant over and whispered in my ear, "You gotta boyfriend, you gotta boyfriend, you gotta..." until I elbowed her, blushing furiously, convinced that everyone was looking at me.

But when I looked around, no one was, Jim and Lu were making out, as were two of the boys on the softball team, but everyone seemed to be ignoring them.

When the bell ending lunch finally rang, Ty helped me and Karen up while Davis tossed out our trash and said "Later Guys, Girls, Mascot, Mascot's sexy friend." And with that he left.

I giggled and Karen shot me an evil look then humphed, "See you in Poly-Civ then?" and without waiting for an answer flounced off, which she only does when she's trying to act angry and put out, so I didn't take it too hard.

I was just about to leave when Tyrone said, "Wait a sec, Elayne, I got some stuff for you." And with that he handed me a sack with five CVD's (crystal video disks) inside and a small binder.

I looked at the stuff without taking it and then up into those astounding eyes which made me shiver all over and remembered the kiss and the falling sensation. I blinked and tilted my head, "What's these?"

He smiled, "Just some vids of past track meets, so you can see the kinda stuff mascots do. It's mostly just bringing us Gatorade or towels, watching our stuff, and cheering and acting happy and stuff when we win and perking us up when we don't." He grinned, "But don't worry darlin'" and patted my shoulder with his free hand, "The Primo Trio never loses!"

I giggled politely although inside I was blushing furiously 'cause he had called me "darlin'". "What's the binder?" I said, pointing to it.

Holding it out so I could see the cover he said, "It's the code of conduct for cheerleaders and mascots. It says what you are allowed to do and not allowed to do. It says what we are allowed to ask of you and what we are not allowed to ask of you. It says what the staff will expect and will demand of you. It's got this affidavit at the back. That's this kinda note thing you sign that says you read everything and agree with it. You gotta get that back to Miss Vasquez by the start of school tomorrow, and no later, okay? And make sure you watch those disks tonight."

I nodded, "Sure, but what's the rush?" as I took the bundle and followed Tyrone down the corridor.

Ty gave me a one-armed hug and laughed, "You're kidding, right?"

I shook my head, "No! Really, what's up?"

Ty guestured towards the wall of the corridor with his free hand. "Layne, you gotta pay attention more." I looked where he was gesturing as he continued. "Babygirl, this Saturday is the regional track meet!" And lo! There were posters and flyers for the meet on every wall!

I stiffened and gasped, "You mean...?"

He looked down at me with those eyes again and said, "Yep. On Saturday we, and you, get to strut your stuff in front of twenty thousand junior high school parents, siblings, faculty, and students!"

And then I felt that falling sensation again, only this time it wasn't because of his eyes.

To be continued in part 15 - Let the Little Girl Dance

---

Bonus Section:

For all you Star Wars Buffs out there, Here are a few choice details about the last Star Wars Trilogy.

Episode VII: Revenge of the Sith, featured Darth Holzt. The Heroes Tyra Solo, a Grey Jedi, and great granddaughter of Han and Leah, and Rebel Calrisian, charismatic young leader of the Freedom Party, a right wing party which feels the Senate is becoming to totalitarian, must save the restored republic from Sith Dreadnoughts, mindless biological killing machines that kill anyone with even the slightest trace of the power of the force. In the end it is revealed that Darth Holzt takes his orders from an even more powerful Sith Master, the nefarious Darth Grell, who appears only at the very end of the movie to take mental control of the Senate using Sith Sorcery. In the end Darth Holzt renounces the Dark side and joins with the heroes as they escape into the labyrinth that is Coruscant.

Episode VIII: The Darkest Hour, features Darth Grell. It marks the appearance of Yoda-D2 a hybrid astromech droid with the power to wield the force and the spirit of the Grand Jedi Master Yoda within it. The Heroes are Tyra Solo, Rebel Calrisian, and Enock Palpatine who used to be Darth Holzt. Darth Grell, having taken control of the entire senate, now declares that all Jedi and their allies are the reason behind all the wars and bloodshed. He orders the military to wipe out the Jedi, killing them on sight. He also mandates public testing of all citizens to root out and neutralize the threat of those who can wield the force. As the Jedi and their allies battle the military, Our heroes make their way into Darth Grell's floating fortress and confront him. He laughs and challenges Tyra and Enock, fighting both at once. Finally Rebel shoots Darth Grell through the chest as he leaves himself open, making a snide comment about chivalry and honor. Grell, with the last of his energy, triggers a detonator and the huge floating fortress blasts the Senate into atomic dust, along with much of the surface of Coruscant. With his physical body defeated, Grell tries to jump to another clone body, but Tyra is able to become a spirit as well and she battles him while her body slumps into Enock's arms. As she defeats Grell the second time he gasps, "It doesn't matter, She's awake. She's awake and she will come for you all." And then he disolves into spiritual nothingness. When she opens her eyes she smiles up at Enock, "You know," she says, "You aren't half bad for the grandson of a genocidal madman. In fact, you've got this cute glower thing going for you."

Episode IX: The Balance of the Force, comes out for Thanksgiving. No one knows who the Grandmaster of the Sith is, but she looks really scary on the posters and vids.

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit, who may be reached at [email protected]. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

Sometimes, you just have to dance.

Chapter 15
Let the Little Girl Dance

By Jesse Rabbit
Edited by Erin Halfelven for BigCloset and Sapphire's Place

Here it is, part 15. Not as long as I was planning on, but I decided to leave it where I did cause the last bit is a little too heavy to go right back to the usual humor. For those who didn't notice, I've posted another piece of fiction here, called Dreamdance, and I thought a little shameless plugging might be good. But, without more ado, I give you, Let the Little Girl Dance.

Part 15 - Let the Little Girl Dance

Why is it that whenever girls faint there always seems to be a strong handsome type just waiting to catch them when they fall, but when boys do it the only thing which is there to catch them is the ground? Not that I speak from experience of course, I've only fainted twice in my life, both as a girl, and - as you might guess - Tyrone caught very nicely this time, just as he had at the mall. Or at least I assume he did, 'cause when I came to he was holding me close, probably 'cause there were no benches or anything besides the floor for him to lay me out on. Before he could ask if I was okay I managed to squeak out, "Public?" and I do mean squeak, as my voice is now the highest range of soprano and I think I almost went ultrasonic at that point.

Ty laughed and nodded solemnly, "Public, kiddo. Where did you think we competed? In small dark rooms with no-one watching?" he gave me a hug and I hit him on the shoulder.

"Hey! Don't make fun of me!"

He grinned and kissed my forehead, "Never, my sweet. Now I have to run and so do you, class calls. So do you think you can stand on your own?"

I nodded and he set me on my feet.

As it turns out, I was almost 15 minutes late to class. Which was study hall so no big deal, as Mister Allison, who's graphic design class I had taken in 7th grade, barely ever looked up from his comic books to check if we were doing anything as long as we weren't too loud. I was late because it took me that long to figure out how to get my feet to work again, get the blush to subside, and get over being called "My sweet!" That rattled me so much that I completely forgot about having to do anything in front of twenty thousand people all the way through Study Hall.

My next class was Choir and Miss Roston has a very strict policy. "No thinking, just singing", the diminutive teacher has insisted time and again. Even if I were inclined to do any thinking or worrying that day, it wouldn't have been about being called "My Sweet" or about having to be a cheerleader in front of bob knows how many people. I had bigger things to worry about as it turns out.

Miss Roston decided, in light of the fact that two weeks from that coming Friday we had our Thanksgiving Recital, it was time to pick leads for solos. Now if you don't know what a solo is, that's where one person emerges from the body of the choir and stands, all alone in the center of the stage, with everyone staring at them, and sings. Sometimes the rest of the Choir backs them up, sometimes not, but the important thing is that it's just you and the audience, so all your mistakes are like a billion times more obvious. I relaxed because Mezzo-Sopranos like me don't get solos and then it hit me, I was now a Supra-Soprano. I then relaxed again, 'cause Kristin Duncan, who is class president and really cool, is Lead Soprano, and she sings way better than me, so I didn't have to worry, right? Wrong as it turns out. Kristin opted for one of the duets and was "nice" enough to leave the Soprano solo open.

So I got tagged to do the solo, whimper. But at least it wasn't cheerleading and at least it wasn't going to be in front of tens of thousands of people, right? I of course had forgotten that the Thanksgiving Recital wasn't held in the school auditorium, which seats seven hundred, but at the old Aqua Vista Civic Center, whose main auditorium seats almost six thousand on its main floor and two balconies. And that the local educational access channel isn't the one who carries the footage; our local PBS station does it. But that's for later.

After being told to meet with my voice coach to select a song, I realized I had a slight quandary. As I'd never had a solo before, I'd barely met Mister Howard, the boy's voice coach, and certainly never had a face to face with him, just some lectures on voice care and such. So did I go see Mister Howard, who I barely knew and would have pieces better suited to altos and tenors or did I go see Miss Pertry, who would be thrilled to see me and have lots of pieces for sopranos. Mister Howard was the boy's coach, Miss Pertry was the girl's coach. Then I thought of a loophole and went to talk to Miss Roston about it.

"Miss Roston?"

She looked up from her stack of libretos, "Umm yes, Miss Owen?"

I refrained from correcting her as I was the only boy in the soprano section who wasn't a fifth or sixth grader, and it would have been counter-productive to say the least, and said "Do boys have to meet with Mister Howard and girls with Miss Pertry, or is that just, like, a suggestion?"

She blinked owlishly at me, and sighed, "Miss Owen, don't be foolish, and do stop wasting my time. Boys are required to meet with the boy's voice coach, girls with the girl's voice coach. It's very simple."

With a grin on my face I said, "So I should meet with..."

Shaking her head and sighing, she slipped her thumb and forefinger under her ugly glasses and rubbed her eyes, "Miss Owen, you are to meet with Miss Pertry to select a song for the Recital. Is that understood or do I need to write you a note so you can remember?"

I just grinned and said that would be fine. As I rejoined my section so we could go over the material that we all would be singing, Kristin tapped me on the shoulder and beckoned me aside.

When we were far enough away from the group of eleven other sopranos, Kristin smiled at me and said, "Congratulations."

I blinked, "Huh?"

"On the solo."

I scuffed the ground sheepishly, "Oh, yeah. Thanks."

"Look, don't be nervous. Solos are great. Did you know that I always thought you were a boy?"

I blanched, and opened my mouth to say something, although I have no idea what that might have been.

She smiled, "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I had a tomboy phase, too."

I smiled weakly and said, "Oh?"

She nodded, "Yeah, but then I discovered boys." She giggled. "Is that what happened to you?"

I shook my head, and thinking quickly, said, "Naw, it's just that I just turned eleven and something changed."

She nodded, "That's right, you and your friend Karen van Lister, right? You're both eleven."

I nodded; faintly surprised to learn that Kristin Duncan knew who my friends were.

Giggling, she said, "Don't look so surprised, I sit next to Karen in Geometry. She's very smart, and hard to miss with that electric blue hair."

I nodded, "That she is."

"Any idea what you are going to sing?"

I shook my head, "I'm going to ask Miss Pertry if she has any idea. But I bet Jason van Born will sing, "This is My Country" again like he has at every recital since sixth grade." We both laughed at that. Jason van Born was a very gifted tenor, and his mother was head of the school board, so even though he wasn't lead tenor, he always got to sing a solo, and always sang the same thing, much to the dismay of Miss Roston and Mister Howard, who had pleaded with him to select something, anything, else to sing.

The bell rang at that point and I packed up my bag and headed for Lit class. Halfway through, I suddenly remembered that instead of worrying about publicly humiliating myself two weeks hence, I had to worry about publicly humiliating myself two days hence. But by that time, most of the panic had faded into a kind of hazy dread, which I managed to banish by telling myself that I wasn't going to be the one competing. All I would have to do is clap and look cheerful while giving the boys drinks and towels and stuff like that. And it wasn't like anyone would be paying attention to me, right? Of course not.

That settled in my mind, I turned back to classwork, although I did have a little trouble keeping my mind from straying to Kristin Duncan's laughing eyes.

***

I was in Poly-Civ, my last class of the day, bored as usual, when my watch beeped inside my head and when I looked at it I saw that I had been Plinked (you know, Instant Messengered) which we're not supposed to do in class, but we do anyway. The message turned out to be from Davis and addressed to Tyrone, Lu Wong, Jim, Karen, and Me. It said, "HW 8OUT W3 M33T @ C7U8 V1K1NG @ 1900 & DANC3." Which I deciphered from the old net language, 733T (Leet, as in Elite), to mean, "How about we meet at Club Viking at 7 p.m. and dance." Karen and I had been to Club Viking twice, both times on kid's night cause you had to be eleven or older any other night to get in and if you've been paying attention you'd know that I only qualified this week. Club Viking was our local teen (11-16) dance club, and Thursday was Retro Night I discovered by checking their net node. I'd discovered that if I networked my watch to my manual I got a much bigger screen and could see the net sites, albeit in 2-D instead of 3-D, instead of having to use their audio function.

Hastily - before Miss Greystoke, my Poly-Civ teacher could notice that I was fooling around with something other than her boring-ass, state mandated, inundation of pointless factoids about dead people like Bill Clinton and Andrew Johnson (I mean, who cares about an affair of state, really, President Ciccone has slept with like a billion people.) - I sent back, "I'm in, and 733T is dead, Davis."

Karen sent out, "Ewwww Geek-Speak! I'm game, what do we wear?" See how obsessed with clothes she is? Ty sent out, "CU@7", Jim sent "K", and Lu Wong sent back a graphic of someone dancing and a smiley face, which I assumed was an okay. The depressing part was that as thrilled as I was to be going, I'd be in class for the next twenty-five minutes, and they were bound to be even more boring, now that I had dancing to look forward to that night. Sigh, it's a shame grampa's watch can't speed up time. Now that would be a cool watch.

The one good thing, I would be able to do something as a boy other than sleep, having only canceled out the hours school lasted. I'd pretty much resigned myself to being stuck in a female body at school for the next year, but I still felt more like me as a boy. I missed my old center of gravity, if you can imagine that. I even missed the uncomfortable tightness of my underwear when it bunched up and squashed those parts that are not supposed to be squashed. I mean, I'd had to deal with those sensations for most of my life. You get used to things, and I kinda missed it. So tonight, I was going dancing as a boy and that was final. It's a shame I was arguing with myself, cause when you argue with yourself you always win and you always lose.

***

Almost as soon as school ended and I had transformed back into a boy, feeling free at last in more ways than one, Karen started in, bugging me about what I was going to wear, how I was going to do my hair, was I going to wear make-up or do my nails, should we arrive just a little late, should we take a taxi or get dropped off, and so on, and so on, and so on. Finally, I had to club her with a pillow to get her to pay attention to our homework 'cause if it wasn't done then no way were we going at all. In the end I just let her decide what I was going to wear because it was easier than arguing the point and I really had no idea anyway.

Thus it was that we arrived at Club Viking - with a parentally mandated curfew of 11 p.m. at the very latest - in a taxi, exactly six minutes late, as, for reasons which totally escape me, Karen had had the driver take the long way round. Karen was wearing what she called casual slut, which consisted of a silver form-fitting jumpsuit which left nothing at all to the imagination (not that there was much to imagine), a totally superfluous three-inch-wide, hip-hugging white belt, and tall, black suede boots. Her hair was back in its blue pixie style, as were her nails and eye lids.

I was wearing grey jeans which barely covered my ass and a robin's egg blue shirt with a high neckline which totally failed to cover my belly or back, although it did have side panels with clips an the bottom to attach them to my jeans. Karen had insisted I keep my stomach bare cause it would draw attention. When I asked why, she told me that anything that draws attention to your breasts is a good thing, but since I barely have any to speak of, then I would have to settle for my stomach.

I pointed out that I was going as a boy, feeling that it was best if I appeared at dinner looking as boyish as possible, seeing as how Sam had figured it out already. That had turned out to be a wise decision as my mother had apparently grown tired of my dressing like a girl at dinner, or at least of Pig complaining about it. I know this 'cause Mom complemented me on my choice of clothes in that tone which so clearly says, "If you were dressed any other way you would be so very, very grounded." I also pointed out that I wanted to go as a boy 'cause I was more comfortable as one and hadn't really had a chance to be one since Monday morning.

The totality of Karen's response had been to shrug and hand me the clothes while giving me a look that clearly said I was the mental one. I had argued for, and won, for a wonder, the right to wear boxers rather than panties. Karen had looked smug and tried handing me a pair with pink and yellow roses all over it, but I put them back and went with a pair with the Death Star and the Forest Moon of Endor on the butt and the rebel fleet on the front.

Anyway, when we arrived, Ty and Davis were outside, waiting for us. Ty's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when I stepped out of the taxi. He clearly didn't notice any boyish features. I had to restrain the impulse to jump back in, hand the cabby my credit card, saying, "Let's get the hell out of here, pronto." As it was, I just blushed and hid behind Karen, who was posing like a glamour-puss while Davis ogled her. He was practically drooling, which I guess was the point of the outfit Karen was wearing. Ty was wearing blue jeans and a grey-checked, button-down, very casual but nice. Davis was wearing one of those not for running, just for dancing, black tracksuits which looked as if glow worms were mating on it, ewww.

Ty came over and wrapped his arm round my shoulders, chuckling softly. "You look very nice tonight, Layne. Jim and Lu are inside, holding us a table. Let's get our dance on."

"Our dance on?" I giggled. "It's our Groove on, sportsboy."

Trying to look contrite, and failing miserably, Ty laughed and said, "Forgive me, Chica. My store of Retro Lingo isn't so good. Feel free to chastise me again. Spank me if you will, punish me for my churlish naughtiness." He smirked and I bopped him lightly on the head.

Ty and Davis already had had their hands stamped so they guided us through the line and inside to where Lu and Jim were sitting at a booth that faced the dance floor, a sonic dampener pulsing blue in the middle of the table. From the flushed look on Lu's face, I was guessing they had been making out, and pretty heavily at that, while they'd been waiting for us to arrive. We ordered some drinks from a nice waiter whose name was Andre, and Jim gave us the sitrep. We'd do a little dancing, two couples at a time. Every three songs one couple - Jim and Lu (who I found out preferred to be called Lulu), Davis and Karen, or Ty and I (I wasn't consulted FYI) - would come back to the table and the couple who had been holding the fort would get to dance for six songs. This gave, in theory, ample time to "get one's groove on" while giving the couples ample time to... let's say talk.

Ty and I took the second table-watching slot, relieving Lulu and Jim. We settled into the soft cushions of the booth, the music at a nice ambient level thanks to the sound dampeners. And we did talk. I told Ty about my family, about how my older sister called flirting with boys "Fishing" and how she had a "Catch and Release Policy". I told him about my parents and my mad grandfather, although not the part about the old nutter being alive, of course. I told him that NoCal Governor Richard Harkens, Jr. was my uncle, and his daughter, Senator Regina Harkens, was thus my cousin. Then Karen and Davis came back and we got up and danced.

We danced to a hip-hop number called Gettin' Jiggy With It which I'm pretty sure is by Will Smith before he became governor of Florida, a disco number called Be My Lover which I'm sure is by Le Bouche, a funk number called Slam Dunk Da Funk which Karen says is by 5ive, something I think was grunge about a Heart-shaped Box, and then there was Arms Wide Open by Creed, a slow number. Ty held me close and we swayed to the music, but I kept feeling like everyone was staring at me so I was kinda relieved when the next number was Tubthumping by Chumbawumba, good old-fashioned rock and roll. I know that sounds terrible, but I was.

Then we went and relieved Jim and Lulu again, who were both looking rather disheveled and more than a little out of breath. Ty punched Jim in the shoulder, although not that hard, and said something, but because we were outside the sound dampener's field, I had to rely on my ability to read lips in order to have any idea what he was saying. I should point out that I have no ability at all to read lips, so Ty could have been telling Jim to get a hotel room; he also could have been giving him advice on how to get Lulu's bra off, or even telling him to invest in Orange Juice. Jim grinned at Ty and then guided Lulu onto the dance floor where they quickly disappeared into the maelstrom of bodies.

This time Ty did the talking while I sipped my coke. He told me about his mother, who was a civil engineer and was in charge of the construction of the new Civic Center and who had actually designed the Seagate Tunnel which ran from L.A. out to the floating Seagate City. He told me about his brothers, Maurice the eldest who was a sergeant in the Spaceguard, Timothy the next eldest who played wide receiver for the University of Michigan Wolverines and who had, Tyrone claimed, a good shot at the Heisman Trophy this season, whatever that was, and Max, the youngest, who had just started first grade that year and was very good at watching trivision and playing with their cat who was also named Max. When I asked why, he said that Max, the brother, had felt that the cat should be named Max 'cause Max was a good name, and had insisted so loudly and so long that the rest of the family had finally caved. We had a good laugh at that but then TY went kinda quiet.

He told me how his little sister and his father had died in a fire a few months before his brother Max was born, and how he missed them. He kinda went silent after that, and I gave him a hug and told him that I'd almost lost my older brother and I'd just lost my grandfather. Well, I had. I didn't tell him that a few weeks later I'd discovered that all the tears and bummed feelings were for nothing 'cause the old loon was still alive 'cause that really wouldn't have helped.

Ty nodded and smiled, "It's okay, it happened when I was seven, so I've had six years to get over it. I just miss them sometimes is all." We sat there in silence for a while, leaning against each other. Then, slowly, gently, Tyrone took my face in his hands and turned me to face him. He was just about to kiss me but as his face moved closer to mine, something was different. I didn't freeze up like I've always done in the past when his face approached mine. I squeaked and pushed him back... well actually I squeaked and used his chest to push me back. It was surprisingly easy.

He looked nonplused, "What's wrong?" he asked, his feelings obviously hurt; especially after the feelings we'd just shared, and I felt my heart go out to him. I soul-searched quickly--why wouldn't I let him kiss me, I'd let it happen so many times when I was a girl--then suddenly I realized what it was. When I was a girl, I was a girl. But now I was a guy and I didn't want him to kiss me when I was a guy. Did that mean I wanted him to kiss me at all? I needed time to think.

"I need to go to the bathroom." I said and bolted, not looking back so I wouldn't have to deal with that hurt look on Tyrone's face. I rushed across the dance floor, brushing past Karen as I went, through the door, which was miraculously line-free and locked myself in a stall. To this day, I'm not sure which bathroom I ran into. I sat there, going over it all in my mind.

I definitely didn't want to be kissed by a boy when I was a boy, right? But did I want to be kissed by a boy when I was a girl? I didn't know. Did I like being kissed by Tyrone? Yes, I had to admit, I did. I liked the way it felt, the way he held me close, the strength of his arms, the pressure of his lips, the faint cherry taste from his lip balm. So why wouldn't I let him kiss me? Just 'cause I was a boy? I thought about that for a while, giving Karen the "I'm thinking" sign when she poked her head over the stall door, but I couldn't get it to make sense.

Karen, obviously sensing something, pulled herself over the stall wall and dropped down next to me. "Hi!" she said, in her perkiest voice, "Something bothering you, Layne?"

I sighed and told her, "I don't want Tyrone to kiss me right now, but I don't know why. I like it when I'm a girl... Maybe the watch changes my... whatcha call it... you know, which you like, boys or girls or something."

Karen laughed and sat on my lap. "Layne, baby. It's called orientation. And I doubt the watch has anything to do with it. I think it's more to do with Tyrone."

Ever notice that no matter how smart you are people still say things that go right over your head? I said, "Huh?"

With a laugh, Karen tickled me a little, "Tyrone thinks he's kissing a girl, and you don't want to lie to him."

I blinked, "But am I gay then?"

Karen bopped me.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being stupid."

"Huh? How was I...."

"You're a girl half the time, and you only want to be kissed by a boy when you are a girl. I'm not sure someone in your position could be called gay, straight, or lesbian, anyway. And even if you could, what does it matter? But I do know that you like Ty."

Blinking and tilting my head to look up at her I said, "Urm?"

She laughed, "I bet you are almost as strong as he is 'cause of the watch. But you never try to move away. In fact you snuggle against him, you really do."

"I... but... I..."

Giggling, Karen tickled me some more to shut me up. "It's okay Layne. You're allowed to like him. You're allowed to like kissing him."

I spluttered, "I've never kissed him! He always kisses me!"

Karen pretended to look shocked, but she's not very convincing, "You've never kissed your boyfriend?"

I gaped at her, "He's not... We're not... but... oh, I give up."

Karen hopped off my lap and cheered, "I win!" She unlocked the stall and bounced out, cackling "I win! I Win, I WIN!" I shut the door, locked it, and sat there for another twenty seconds before activating the girl-time transformation 'til midnight. I straightened myself up, unlocked the stall and left the bathroom. Tyrone looked up from where he was sitting next to Davis as I walked back to our table, opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance 'cause I hopped into his lap and kissed him. I kissed him very soundly on the mouth and then sat back, my arms wrapped around his neck, looking up into his dark eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something, so I kissed him again before he could and this time he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back. After that we sat and talked or danced until it was time to go, but right outside the club Ty held me back just long enough to hug me close to him and kiss me on the forehead. "See you tomorrow, Chica?" I nodded. "Remember, in case I forget to tell you tomorrow, on Saturday you need to be at the school no later than 8 a.m. or you'll miss the bus to the meet." I nodded again, then hopped up, wrapped my arms round his neck, and kissed him on the nose, cause I couldn't reach his forehead. Then I let go and ran off to catch up with Karen, giggling like mad the whole time.

***

Falling back into my bed, I sighed and thumped my pillow with the back of my head a few times. I sighed again and then, knowing there was no way I was going to be able to sleep unless I resolved a few things, I raised the watch so I could look at it. Its face was silver in the moonlight. I opened it and in a small voice that I barely recognized as my own said, "Grandpa?"

There was no reply.

"Grandpa?" I called in a slightly louder voice.

There was no reply.

Knowing my room was soundproofed, I screamed as loud as I could, "GRANDPA!"

This time the watch went, "Wuzzat? What's wrong? There's no need to yell, boy."

"That's just it... I'm not a boy."

Grandpa's face looked confused, "My readouts say ye'are. Danged blasted things must be on the fritz again."

I shook my head, "No, Grandpa, I am a boy right now, at least my body is. But I'm not a boy anymore, or a girl at all. I'm confused." Grandpa looked as if he were going to say something but I cut him off, "No, just listen. Look, tonight I kissed a boy, a boy I think I like, but I couldn't bring myself to kiss him when I was a boy 'cause it felt wrong, but when I turned myself into a girl it was okay. And there's this girl at school who I think is really great. Why? Why did you do this to me? Isn't growing up hard enough as it is? Why do I need to decide whether to be a boy or a girl now? What's the point?"

When I finished speaking I looked at the small blue see-through head of my grandfather and waited, slightly flushed from my tirade. I waited for him to say something, anything to justify his actions, but he remained silent. Minutes went by until I finally just exploded at him, "Don't you have anything to say?"

He looked up at me with a serene expression on his face and gave me a sad little smile, "I was waiting for you to finish. Are you finished?"

I nodded, giving him a cross glower.

"Then I'll answer you're last question first. There is no point."

I blinked and then started shouting, "What? What do mean..." I was cut off by a short, mildly painful zap from the watch.

Grandpa's calm demeanor did not waiver, "I let you finish, please return the courtesy. As I was saying, there is no point. Distinctions between the sexes, so called gender-roles, have become meaningless, especially in most western countries, especially in the US. In primitive times, there was a sound reason for them and that's how they developed. Man was the Hunter, the Protector, and the Father. Woman was the Homekeeper, the Caretaker, and the Mother. But as civilization grew and the population expanded, those roles became traditions more than necessity.

"Finally, first in the American Civil War, so many men were drained from the workforce that women had to take over those jobs, then again in World War Part I and again, even more so in World War Part II. Coupled with a rise in women's rights and a growing feminist movement the traditional gender-roles began to erode, faster and faster as the years passed. Companies and the economy started to adjust to a larger worker base. When Feminism had played out its role by the end of the nineteen eighties, women were liberated, free to do anything their hearts desired, if not completely equal with men. More and more strong female leaders in industry began to emerge and by the turn of the millennium, most children could no longer define the difference between mommy and daddy anymore.

"It's been almost thirty years since then, men and women work together in almost every field and industry, while the leaders of each field and industry are close to parity. There is no longer a difference in pay rates between the sexes, aside from some sports figures. Madonna is POTUS for Pete's sake, and she wasn't even the first female president. In short, society has gained equality and parity, but it has lost something--a sense of the meaning of pride in one's gender. Men who were proud to be men are a thing of the past; most are like me, old, relics of a by-gone era. Women who are proud to be women are fading in numbers, too. The only thing that separates the sexes now is gender and biology. Women still give birth to most of the babies. But there are differences, small ones, tiny ones. Women care more about some things while men care more about others, although I'm speaking in generalities. So, that's what I mean when I say there is no point. Do you understand me so far?"

I nodded, slightly shaken by the onslaught.

Favoring me with a half smile, Grandpa continued, "As for the difficulty, no, I cannot say as I think growing up is particularly difficult at all. It happens naturally and doesn't stop for anyone or anything besides death. Growing up right, now that's the tricky part. See growing up right is difficult. It has to be. The difficulties are what make you grow up right. The trick is giving enough hardship that a kid becomes a strong, righteous, and true individual without heaping so much on them that they break or become deranged. Your parents are doing a bang-up job for the most part, but I felt something was lacking, so I gave you something to build character, something to make you think about what kind of person you are, and more important, what kind of person you want to be.

"See the real shit of it is this, I've discovered how to make humans almost immortal, but the kicker is, they don't deserve it. Nowhere near in fact. So, I've got to find a way to make a better human. It may sound cruel, but it's true. Imagine a world full of immortal children, all squabbling over the toys. It would be chaos and society would fall apart. Not to mention that there just isn't enough power in the world to operate 8 billion watches. Understand me?"

Again I nodded, feeling drained and slightly sick to my stomach. There were just so many things I hadn't considered but that Grandpa clearly had.

"Look, don't worry about the big stuff, you're too young and there's lots of time for you to grow up left. Just you concentrate on being the best you that you can be. Grow up right. Decide for yourself which you want to be, a boy, a girl, gay, straight, a father, a mother, a protector or a caretaker. And realize that almost all of that is meaningless, outdated, social hooha. Just become what you want to be, but first experience all the options. Discover for yourself what it means to be a man or a woman, and then keep that ideal precious. Make there be a point to having two sexes besides species diversity, okay kiddo? Can you do that? Experience, learn, grow, and when you are ready, then you can choose."

"Yessir," I said with a nod.

"Good, then get some sleep, it's late there."

"Okay, Grandpa-nutjob. I'm still going to get you for this."

"And my little dog Toto, too?"

"What?"

"Never mind, it was before your time. Sleep tight."

"G'night"

---

To be continued in part 16 - Ready or Not...

---

Bonus Section:

Elan's Family

Elan Collin Owen (a.k.a. Elayne Colleen Grace), male (female), born November 1st, 2018. Son of Ethan Owen and Grace Winter. 8th grader at Cascade Middle School, Aqua Vista North California.

Ethan James Owen, male, born January 18th, 1978. Father of Lawrence David, Samantha Morgan, Elan Collin, and Michelle Ophelia. Married to Grace Winter.

Grace Olivia Winter, female, born January 16th, 1981. Mother of Lawrence David, Samantha Morgan, Elan Collin, and Michelle Ophelia. Married to Ethan Owen.

Lawrence David Owen, male, born April 29th, 2007. Brother of Elan Owen. Georgetown Law Student.

Samantha Morgan Owen, female, born December 13th, 2013. Sister of Elan Owen. 11th grader at Claremont High School, Aqua Vista North California.

Michelle Ophelia Owen, female, born October 5th, 2021. Sister of Elan Owen. 6th grader at Cascade Middle School, Aqua Vista North California.

Karen Elizabeta Hildegard van Lister, female, born August 24th, 2018. Best friend and sworn sister of Elan Owen. Daughter of Sanna and Linda van Lister. 8th grader at Cascade Middle School, Aqua Vista North California.

Dance List

Rock & Roll: Tumbthumping - Chumbawamba (1997)

Grunge: Heart-Shaped Box - Nirvana (1994)

Disco: Le Bouche - Be My Lover (1996)

Hip-Hop: Will Smith - Gettin' Jiggy With It (1998)

Slow: Creed - Arms Wide Open (2000)

Funk: 5ive - Slam Dunk (Da Funk) (1997)

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002, 2003 Jesse Rabbit, who may be reached at [email protected]. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

A differing perspective can sometimes help, but I don't think that this will be one of those times.

Not Part 13!
Family Life

By Jesse Rabbit

Edited by Erin Halfelven for posting on BigCloset and Sapphire's Place

Something to tide everyone over until part 16 is finished. I hope that will be soon. My creativity has been erratic of late. So here's a little bit about Elan's Parents. Nothing TG and a little too much politics and history, but I hope everyone doesn't hate it.

Definitely Not Part 13 - Family Life

Hello All, I am Grace Winter, mother of Elan / Elayne, and I hope you've been enjoying the story thus far. Now I know you are thinking, "Whoa, his / her mom is in on the whole thing!" well, sorry to disappoint you all, but I'm not. At least I wasn't then. Elan's given you pretty much the story, as it happened to him, but I thought I'd tell you a little about how that first week went, for the rest of the family, and especially me. Don't worry, I won't spoil any of Elan's Story, just tell you a bit about life in 2029 and some more - shall we say - unbiased details about the family.

Now Elan has told you that I'm a mathematician, which is true. I have a doctorate of applied mathematics and number systems from Cal-Tech, where I now teach doctoral candidates how to write very long papers that only a few hundred people in the entire world can even begin to comprehend. This is, of course, very rewarding, ha ha. I also do research, as strange as that might seem, and no, before you ask, I am not trying to discover new numbers. I get that a lot.

I am married to a wonderfully sweet man, who hates it when I call him that, but I do it anyway. Ethan lives in a world of artifical humanoids and yet he is the most amazingly real human I've ever met, then again, look who my father is. We met in college, instantly hated each other, spent months arguing and once even came to blows, although only in a VR boxing simulation my roommate invented. Then Ethan started dating my roommate, which of course made us fight even more. Finally, during finals of my freshman, his junior year, we got into this huge screaming match right in the middle of the campus. I was mortified when the gathered crowd gave us a standing ovation. Of course, since they weren't sitting to begin with, that wasn't saying much.

I went home for the summer and plotted my revenge, and oooooh how sweet it was going to be. Ethan went to Japan with Lizzah, my roommate and I didn't hear from her all summer. Finally, a week before school get back in, I get a email from her saying that she's dumped him to start dating a drummer and that she's taking a year off from "dullsville" to party like its 2099, as she put it. She never did come back to school, but her last album did go triple platinum, and her daughter is the frontwoman for my son's favorite band.

When I got back to school, ready to gloat about how badly he had been dumped and renew my war on Ethan with a truly memorable bit of revenge, I found that all the joy had gone out of it. Ethan was devastated, crushed as totally as I had only dreamed of, but I hadn't done it. I wanted sooo much to still hate him, but I took him out for coffee and pizza so we could talk about it instead. 6 years and a total of 7 degrees later we were married. A year later Lawrence was born, then Samantha 7 years later, then Elan a little under five years later, and finally 3 years after him, Michelle, which, no matter how often Elan has called her Pig, is her real name and she's not as bad as he says.

I love my family, even when they fight, bicker, plot to conquer the world, or just eat all of the cookies before I get any. Of course, since both Ethan and I work, we hired Wei Ya-min to look after them and she's been wonderful with them, and with us. She's a marvelous chef, even if she does tend to make far too much food and smile knowingly all the time.

The week in question, the one where the first of the gifts arrived - and let me tell you, if you think Elan's caused some problems, that's nothing compared to the effect some of the others had over that year -- I was still pretty much of a wreck. My dad had died a fortnight before and everything was a mess. I'd let papers that needed to be marked build up and finally assigned them to be reviewed by peer evaluation, you know, everyone grading everyone else's papers. I missed a deadline, something I'd never done before.

I'd been dealing with my siblings, Lacy, Tricia, and Robert, who had been, respectively, and in their own words, "Totally Bummed, Man!", "Unable to adequately deal with the grief load and self medicating.", and "Too busy to grieve, but most likely in need of counseling, which I should have room for in my schedule after the first of the year."

Lacy is a professional hacker, and has been since computers were invented, it seems. For the mother of six, you'd think she'd be a little more mature, but then again, she's related to me, so why should I be surprised. Of course she kept calling me so she could cry on my shoulder and rescue her from the tides of "Bummerdom." Gee, its soo nice when a sister 3 years older than you needs you to be the stable and supportive one. So in the midst of my grief I had to conspire against the brother 7 years my senior to re-arrange his schedule and force him to take some time off. I had to call Thesally, Tricia's adopted daughter (Thesally's parents had been Tricia's best friends growing up and had been killed in the Muslim War.) and tell her that she needed to take a few weeks off from school and take care of her mother and sisters.

But life goes on, and I knew that Elan's birthday would be a chance for the whole family to relax, unwind, and celebrate life instead of dwelling on death. Anyway, I wasn't going to let Dad's death ruin Elan's birthday; that would just have added insult to injury. So we all put on happy faces and pretended that we hadn't spent the last two weeks crying our eyes out when the children weren't watching. I still haven't forgiven dad for putting us through that, and Tricia won't even speak to him, but I'll say no more about the future past.

The party turned out wonderfully, and really did help us all. It was cathartic. Tricia got off the anti-depressants she'd put herself on and back to work. Thessally went back to school. Robert's wife, secretary, therapist, and I agreed that he could go back to work, as long as he took it easy. And Lacy was back to being "Psyched up, Buzzed with the whole Life thing, and Back in the Zone, DUDE!" I hate it when Lacy calls me Dude, but it's not like I can blame an entire decade, right?

Even I felt better, still sad, but ready to move on with my life. I actually sang along with the radio as my car drove me to work that Monday morning while I watched the other vehicles zip along down the hy-way in computer controlled harmony at 300 kilometers per hour. I even flashed the Customs Scanner a smile as I crossed the boarder into SoCal and she smiled back. My classes went off without a hitch, the papers had actually been fairly graded, as strange as that sounds, and I got a very nice note from my boss saying that I'd been given a month extension on my progress report.

I left campus at lunchtime, ate at this simply wonderful Vietnamese place on Wilshire and went in to the office. Things went well, better than they had since the funeral, and I was so in the zone that I almost screamed and wet my pants when Elan called me up out of the blue. For a minute I was sure something horrible had happened, but when it turned out to be nothing more than him playing with that accursed watch I really wanted to throttle both him and dad. I had to remind myself not to think ill of my offspring or the dead.

I left a little early to get home on time for the trip to New York, stopping at the Votomat so I could vote on all the new governmental proposals and referendums from the last week. There was one local matter about funding a park, two state matters about increasing the taxes on cocaine and paper, and a couple more federal budget items, mostly having to do with funding our troops over in the Middle East fighting what the history books are now calling the New Messiah War, but what we called then "that trouble over there" or "The Middle East War".

When the Votomat was first introduced, I was so bad about getting around to Voting every week, but after I got the yearend total of how much I owed in fines from missed votes, I made sure I got to it every Monday, no matter what. I remember how outraged Ethan was when the IdentiCards were introduced, how he felt it was an invasion of his privacy, but eventually he came to see them as little different than a Driver's License. He was also outraged when voting became mandatory and we had many arguments about whether voting was a right or a responsibility. I don't think he's ever really been convinced, but he's stopped fighting it these days. On the other hand, I was the one who practically threw temper tantrums when the Virtual Democracy Amendment was passed, requiring every bill, law, referendum, or resolution that City Council, State Legislature, or Congress created to be placed before the voting public of that area for approval. I was outraged that instead of having to vote once or twice a year I now had to vote once a week. On the other hand, it's worked out pretty well, although we now have to blame ourselves instead of the Government when things work out badly, and I don't really miss the political parties anymore.

Anyway, enough political history. When I arrived home, Elan looked so cute dressed as our "beloved" ha ha, ex-governor, and although there seemed to be something strange going on, I chalked it up to excitement. The show was marvelous, simply wonderful, and Elan really enjoyed it and the surprise afterwards. He even seemed to open up to the cast and crew of the show, which I was thrilled to see, because he was such a quiet and introspective child, totally different from Lawrence, the born leader, and Samantha the, well, tease. Even Michelle was more outgoing, although mostly physically, and not always in a good way. Then that thing with Diamond happened, and of course that was only the beginning of that whole mess, but I won't say anymore or Elan will scream at me for giving away too much of his story. I was so freaked out when Elan disappeared and then, when that Hex-Head chased him past I swear, if I had had a gun I would have blown the back of his head through his teeth, not that I have the faintest idea how to shoot one. I got my Citizenship before the Citizenship Amendment passed, of course, since that had been only the previous year in the Restructuring and Reratification of the Constitution.

Elan was so brave, and I still think so, even though I know the truth of what happened that night, and I'm still amazed at how rapidly he rebounded. Karen was and is a wonderful friend to him, although I've always had doubts about her taste in clothing.

I noticed other things over the course of that week, let me tell you, although most of them I chalked up to adolescent antics and nothing more. Especially the whole "transvestite" period. I simply assumed that Elan was trying to annoy Michelle. Wouldn't any reasonable parent have assumed the same? When I did find out, well, never mind, you'll hear about that soon enough I suspect. Secrets have a way of getting out, especially when, well, never mind. Still, Elan did look cute in that cheerleader outfit, although I... am saying way too much. And as for my present, it was less impressive than the watch, but let's just say I like swimming a lot more now.

Anyway, I won't bore you anymore with my meanderings, so without more ado, back to Elan's version of the story.

To be Continued whenever I feel like adding my two centicredit's worth.

---

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002, 2003 by Jesse Rabbit, who may be reached at [email protected]. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy. -- Jesse Rabbit

LEAVE A COMMENT!

Look out, world, here I come ...

by Jesse Rabbit

Chapter 16: - Ready or Not…

 

    That night I dreamed I was in the Army, serving my time so I could get my Citizenship and Voters rights, but instead of a gun I had my Watch, and I would point it at the enemy and every time I pressed a button they would either grow old and die before my eyes or turn into children, many of whom had the faces of my family and classmates. I tried to stop firing my Watch, but it kept blasting people, and the number of enemies kept increasing until it seemed there was a solid wall that stretched from horizon to horizon and towered kilometers into the sky. Finally there was just me and a field covered with little kids, all looking up at me as if asking “Well? What now?” And then I woke up, gasping and shivering. The dream, which had been so very vivid seconds before, faded rapidly until I could only remember what I’ve told you above. I cannot, even to this day, remember which gender I was, which at the time worried me quite a lot.

    I got some water and thought about getting back to sleep, but figured it was a lost cause and decided to spend the few hours I had before school in my lab. My hamster, Igor, blinked up at me when I turned on the light and then she (used to be a he, just like me, sigh) rolled up into a ball and went back to sleep. Lucky brainless little furball. I said good morning to my workstation, which responded cheerfully, just as it was programmed to do. I did get a little work done on Project #621: Fabrication of Simple Materials by use of Nanomachines. I was trying to get the little gits to make a diamond plate 1mm thick and 1 cm square, but they kept making a kinda blobby lump of quasi-diamond. You’d think it would be easy to make a simple lattice of carbon molecules, but it had taken me almost two months to produce coal, and I’d been working on diamonds for another. My goal in all this was to be able to make complex shapes out of diamond before the 16^th of January, which is Mom’s birthday, and I wanted to give her a diamond rose. Unfortunately it was looking more and more like Mom would be getting some cleverly constructed quartz glass tulips instead, silica being much easier to work with than carbon.

    Morning finally came and I resigned myself to a day that was not going to be the most pleasant, as I am very crabby when I don’t get enough sleep. Karen dragged me off to school and I tried not to throttle her when she insisted on being happy, cheerful, and - worst of all - upbeat.

    The morning went by almost completely without me noticing, so wrapped up in my grumpy fugue state was I. Monsieur Frank, my French professeur, gave me a pretty scathing lecture about my use of avoir and I wanted to scream at him that I didn’t even know if I was une fille or un garçon, so what did it matter if I couldn’t use blasted avoir the right way. So there I am, grumpily eating my lunch, wondering what else can go wrong, wondering where Karen is, hoping the Trio (and by that I really mean Ty) won’t be annoyed that I decided to eat outside today instead of in Sports Heaven with them (him). I’d just carved the quadratic equation into my mashed potatoes without really noticing when Karen finally materialized next to me. I gave her this look which meant something like “How nice of you to show up and where the hello have you been?” but she just smiled and pointed at something on the other side of me.

    When I turned to look I nearly fell out of my chair, cause Kristen Duncun was sitting right there next to me, smiling like she was planning something evil. I suddenly had a very, very, VEEERRY, bad feeling. In my experience, then and now, whenever a girl smiles at you like that, well lets just say it’s trouble, as in The Music Man trouble, right here in Aqua Vista, with a capital T and that rhymes with G and that stands for Girl. Also for grin.

    I glanced back at Karen and she too was grinning. I was doomed. “What?” I asked, trying not to sound extremely worried.

    “As you might know,” Karen began.

    “Karen and I sit next to each other in geometry.” Kristen finished.

    “And we got to talking,”

    “Seeing as how we meet yesterday, Elayne.” I wasn’t at all sanguine (it means calm) about how Kristen almost purred my name, like I was some kind of prey animal or something, but Karen continued before I could give it any more thought.

    “And Kristen thought you were a really cu… cool girl.”

    “And I know that Karen and you are like two chips in a motherboard.”

    “So Kristen wanted to know if we were busy this weekend, and-”

    “Karen said that you had to cheer on Saturday, but-”

    “That Sunday we were both free. So-”

    “So I said, Cool! And-”

    “And she invited us to spend the day on her dad’s yacht” here I feel compelled to explain that Karen pronounced the word yacht as “Throatwarbler Mangrove” which is a Monty Python reference. This is important cause it explains what Kristen said next.

    “On my dad’s What?”

    I groaned as Karen repeated herself, or at least began to, and then I kicked her in the shin and explained. “That’s what karen calls yachts, cause there’s this old Monty Python sketch where there’s this guy with a huge fake shnoz and his name is spell Raymond Luxury Yacht, but pronounced Throatwarbler Mangrove. Its her being a great big doofus.”

    Kristen just blinked at us and then shrugged and said “Oh. Whatever.” And then her voice went all perky and happy and she grabbed both my hands in hers and practically bounced up and down, “So you’ll come, right? Both of you, Karen already said Yes, if her moms say its okay, so please say you’ll come, I’d lo… really like it. We can get some sun and it goes really fast.”

    For a moment I thought she meant that the sun went really fast, and then I thought maybe she was talking about Sunday, and then I realized she was probably talking about the boat, but by that time I must have nodded or done something else to give her the impression that I’d agreed, ’cause she leaned in and hugged me tight and squealed right in my ear. Then she leaned passed me, nearly knocking me out of my chair and hugged Karen. “Thank you Karen, I owe you one. Ta all!” And with that she left, practically skipping.

    I was just looking to Karen to ask why Kristen owed her anything when the bell rang and we had to go off to class. I immed Karen about it but she just emoticoned me with a J with horns and wouldn’t say anything. She wouldn’t even agree to meet up with me after school, cause she had to have family dinner like she always does on Friday night. In choir Kristen wouldn’t tell me either, but when Miss Roston chided me for talking too much in class, Kristen just told her that we’d been talking about maybe doing an accapella duet at the recital. This got Miss Roston all in a tizzy cause she loves accapella, but no-one ever volunteers to do it cause if singing before an audience is scary with a group of singers behind you and musical accompaniment, think how scary it is without anything but your own voices to rely on. I went pale at the idea, first a Solo and now an Accapella Duet? Was Kristen trying to kill me? I clutched at her arm, trying to telepathically tell her that if I had to go out into those spotlights not once but twice the sheer mortification would see me in the loony-bin if not the morgue before the night was out, but both she and Miss Roston were oblivious to my terror.

    In fact, Miss Roston sent us both to the Library to talk to Miss Pertry about material. As we walked I hissed at Kristen, “I cannot do it… I’m not even going to be able to do a solo! I can’t… all those people… looking at me… I’ll freeze and then you’ll be left all alone in the spotlight with a dumbstruck idiot and no one to back you up and it will be horrible and ruin the” but I didn’t get to finish cause she put her finger up to my mouth and went “Shhhhh!”

    I went silent and blinked up at her, eyes I’m sure filled with dread at the mere idea of performing alone with everyone focused on me. She grinned and shook her head “For such a smart girl, you say stupid things. It’s just stage fright. You’ll be fine. And when the applause starts and you realize that its all for you…” she squealed with glee and hugged me with one arm, “Its like nothing else. It’s like an orgasm, but better.” She looked down at me, “You do know what an orgasm is, right?”

    I nodded, although I didn’t know from personal experience, I’d seen enough movies and read enough books, and they’d been covered in Health and Human Sexuality class.

    “Well applause is so much better, cause it just goes on and on and on. your whole body feels alive, trilling and ringing as a wave washes over you. Its like power cause you made them cheer like that.”

    I shivered and opened my mouth to speak, but it was too dry and I had to close it and swallow hard before I could ask, “What if they, you know, don’t cheer? What if its just dead silence, or if…” I trailed off.

    “If they boo? Are you kidding, at the worst they’ll give you polite applause, we’re middle schoolers, not rockstars or divas, so they aren’t expecting much first of all. And trust me, when we sing, it won’t be polite applause. We’ll bring the toffing roof down. At least I will, and if you don’t help me I’ll tickle you until you scream and then everyone will laugh, and not in the humiliating way but in the that’s so damn funny way. Hi Miss Pertry!” She cried this last out loud enough to make me jump and to earn her a stern reproving glare from our librarian.

    That was how I ended up with the music and recordings for two songs, one for the solo and one for the duet. For my solo I’d picked Alegria, which is my favorite song in the whole world. Its from the show of the same name, by the Cirque du Soleil, which means Circus of the Sun in French. The song, which has lines like “I see a Spark of life shining.” And “there is a love in me raging, Alegria, a joyous magical feeling” is in French, English, and Spanish. Its title means “Joy” and it is simply the most wonderful and glorious song I know. I chose it ’cause I figure there is no way I can mess it up, seeing as how I know it by heart. My mother used to play it for me when I was a baby in the cradle, and I’ve been singing it all my life.

    The other, which Kristen picked out, is called Holding out for a Hero, which is kinda perfect for two girls to sing, cause its about wanting to be saved. I know that sounds kinda sexist, but never in my entire life, with the exception of in the movie Monty Python and Holy Grail, have I ever heard of a boy wanting a hero to save him. Never have I read about a boy wanting to be swept off his feet by a big strong woman. I imagine that in gay teen literature there might be some boys who want big strong men or something like that, but I’ve never read teen literature, gay or straight so that doesn’t count. My idea of literature pretty much went from Roald Dahl and L Frank Baum to Tolstoy and Assimov without skipping a beat.

    Anyway, Kristen made me promise to consider the duet, and said we’d talk about it more on Sunday, and she gave me a contact number, her netmail address, and her IM callsign so I could confirm with her as soon as my parents gave their okay.

    School went pretty fast after that and I was on my way out the doors to my bike when Ty caught up to me. He pulled me around to the side of the building and kissed me quite thoroughly for a few minutes before setting me down and asking me if I was ready for the next day. I shook my head and blushed, although mostly that was cause of the kiss and the fact that my nipples were all hard and kinda throbbing. It was embarrassing and painful and also a little nice, all at once.

    He just gave me a smile and said I’d do fine. He reminded me about getting to the school early and about making sure I knew how to do at least one of the cheers so I wouldn’t look stupid and embarrass the Trio, although he didn’t use those words and was actually really sweet about it. When I got on my bike he pinched my butt and I squeaked and he chuckled, a deep chuckle that made me feel kinda tingly inside.

    When I got home I did indeed do some practicing in our basement dojo, a padded room my parents use for sparring and that me and my siblings use for gymnastics practice. Its nice and smells of cedarwood. I’d just worked up a good sweat when Miss Wei’s voice echoed through the house intercom.

    “Elan. If you not busy, please come to kitchen and help with Dinner.”

    I called up to her that I needed to hop into the shower but I’d be up in five minutes and she said good cause her kitchen was no place for smelly kids.

    When I got there she gave me an apron and tied it on me, then pointed to a big bowl full of matzo meal, and told me to make balls. I got the step ladder out and began to work on the matzoballs. After about ten minutes Miss Wei, who was working on the hot and sour soup that the balls are for, looked across the range at me (we have a range in a center island in our kitchen) and says, as calm as you please “So, you girl now? Very strange.”

    I just stood there for about five minutes, hands buried in crumbled flatbread and egg, unable to think until Miss Wei snapped at me to get back to work. I came back to reality with a start and shivered all over. Our nickname for Miss Wei is god, both cause she always seems to know everything, be everywhere, and is a really nice lady who takes no guff from nobody, and because her name is Ya Wei, which sounds a lot like Yahweh, the hebrew name for god. So I didn’t ask how she knew, which she’d never tell anyway. I just looked at her and said, “Yep.”

    Without looking up from her soup she said, “Do you this with tiny robots you make in lab? Like you do Igor?” I nodded, remembering what I’d told my sister Sam, and thinking, somewhat triumphantly, “So god doesn’t know everything does she!”

    Miss Wei just shook her head, “So strange. When I was a girl, boys were boys, girls were girls. In china many girls were not wanted cause only one child was permitted and fathers wanted sons. So many girls died or were… aborted.” The last she whispered, as if afraid to say it out loud. I dimmly remembered my teacher’s talking about abortions in history class and a little in health class, so I knew what she was talking about, at least a little. “it was not good time. Now everyone want to be something different, girls want to be boys, boys want to be girls, boys sleep with boys who want to be girls sleeping with girls who want to be boys. Aya! It make my brain hurt.” She pointed her spoon at me. “Why you want to be girl, You nice boy! A little small, kinda shy, but nice boy!”

    I shrugged my shoulders. It wasn’t like I could tell her that I didn’t want to be a girl and was stuck that way, cause a) I didn’t want to give up the secret and b) I could have been a boy a lot more than I had been this week but had chosen against it. That realization gave me pause and it was a little while before I said, “I just wanted to give it a try, you know, see how it was different.” And this time, I kinda meant it. I was beginning to enjoy the exploration of being a girl, although I still felt as if I was Elan in someone else’s body.

    Grunting, Miss Wei added the vegetables she’d been cutting up to the soup and said “Difference obvious, boys have winky, girls have coochie. Boys have muscles, girls have breasts. Boys do work, girls tend house, raise kiddies.”

    I was a little shocked to hear her speak that way, but then I realized that in her culture that was indeed the way it had been for more than five thousand years. It was a little disconcerting and it warred a little with what my grandfather had said the night before. I continued to help and pretty soon the hot and sour matzoball soup was finished and the Tuna Steaks were coated in Sesame Wasabi crust and ready to be put on the grill. Dinner went well, and my mother gave me a big smile when Miss Wei told everyone that I’d helped cook, although Pig questioned if I had poisoned the food and got a stern reprimand from dad.

    After dinner I went up to my room and puttered around for a while. I was just getting ready for bed when a horrible thought occurred to me and I dashed over to the phone. I hit the button to dial Karen’s room and a few seconds later a sleepy voice answered, “Elayne? Zatchu?”

    I remember thinking it was kinda creepy how fast she adjusted to using that name, but I shrugged it off in the face of real disaster. “Yeah Karen. I got a problem. I need your help!”

    “Hunh? What timezit?”

    “Its not that late, its only,” I looked at the clock, “23 hundred.”

    “Oh, musta just drifted off. What’s up?”

    “I just was thinking about tomorrow and I had… I realized that… Karen, what do I wear to the arena, cause I don’t want to show up in uniform, but should I wear boy or girl clothes, and how should I do my hair and nails, and what about makeup? Most of the cheerleaders wear at least a little, and I’ve never worn any.” I kinda trailed off after that and just listened to Karen giggle at me.

    Finally I snapped, “Thanks a lot, so nice to have supportive friends.” Which only made her giggle more. Her face popped up on the vid screen as she finally turned it on and she gave me a huge smile.

    “My little girl is growing up!” she chortled. “I’m so happy I could plotz. I’m quelling, really!”

    “That’s Kvelling, you git. I wish you could be there tomorrow, cause I’m really, really nervous about this. I mean, after tomorrow, everyone in school will know I’m a girl, for better or worse. And I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel about it.” I put my head down on my arms and sighed .

    From the screen which I couldn’t see from my current position, Karen said “Chill babe. You are a sexy girl, and everyone will just be drooling all over you, so no worries. At least if you gotta be a girl you get to be sexy, right?”

    I shuddered and moaned, “Noooooooooooo. Nononononono. Not sexy. Not sexy. Anything but sexy. I’m eleven! I’m too young to be sexy.”

    Karen giggled “Your sisters both hit puberty at age nine, I hit it this summer Elayne. By the time my mother reached age twelve she had huge knockers, although not as big as they are now.” I knew which mother she was talking about, cause Sanna is almost flat-chested, but Linda’s breasts are like the size of my head, each. When I just moaned again, Karen said “Cute then?”

    “Not that either!” I mumbled into my arms.

    “How about cuddly?”

    I just groaned.

    “Hey, I got an idea! When I get my watch, maybe I can steal you away from Ty and I’ll be your boyfriend!”

    I lifted my head at that, snapping it up so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. “Ty’s not my… You and I aren’t…” I just kinda trailed off as she giggled at me, so I glowered at her until she stopped.

    “Elayne, Elayne, Elayne. You are too easy. Look, you know that I’m not sure whether I’m into girls or boys or whatever, but I promise you, if I ever do decide that we should be together, I’ll tell you straight out and let you decide on your own. And since we’ll both have watches, we can cross the gender balance bridge if we ever come to it. Anyway, I think you have enough admirers as it is. I know I do. Did you know that Davis sent me like five dozen tulips with a note asking me to go with him to the dance?”

    I gave her a sour look, “No. I didn’t. How would I have known?”

    She grinned, “It wasn’t really a question doofus, I was telling you that he asked me to the dance.”

    “What dance?”

    Karen sighed, “Boys! How can you not know what dance?”

    “I just don’t, okay. I had no reason to know. I don’t usually go. Neither do you!”

    She blushed a little at that, “Only cause I’ve never been asked! Same reason I’ve never been felt up for that matter. Or kissed. You are so lucky. What’s kissing Ty like?”

    “Ahem, focus here? What about my problem?” I said, quickly changing the subject

    “That’s not a problem, just wear girl’s stuff, and set the watch to give you a little lipstick and longer darker eyelashes, thinner eyebrows and you are set. And remember to remove the tattoo, bonehead. Now back to the kissing…” she gave me a wicked smile, but I wasn’t about to let the conversation get back on track.

    “Wow, look at the time. Gotta go. Love yas. Kisses and hugs and all that. Night.” And with that I went to bed, remembering to set my alarm and to turn off my phone’s ringer.

***

    Morning dawned bright and, as it is wont to do in late autumn, not that early, and so it was that I biked to school in the crepuscular (it means twilight) gloom of NoCal dawn. As I crested the hill I saw the sea down past the schools, stretching out into the darkness and I shivered a little. The sea has always been mysterious to me, and that morning I felt as if I was at sea, uneasy, awash with new and strange feelings, caught in the moments between childhood and adulthood, between manhood and womanhood, between home and school, between the safety of what I had always known and the uncertainty of the future. I realized that I was physically at the perfect metaphor for my condition. Poised twixt darkness and light, at the top of a hill, looking down at the ocean of possibilities, alone. I could choose to remain as I was and go nowhere at all, soon to be overtaken by the light; go home, return to the security of what had been, and still the light would come; or to strike out for my destination, unswayed by the unseen dangers ahead, and let the light chase me.

    Really, what choice did I have? Science is about data, knowledge has a price, and nothing worth having is easy. Ignorance is a cop out and although I have often been afraid, sometimes too terrified to move, I have never in my life been a coward, too scared to do something simply because I was worried about the outcome. I’ve always gone through with things even when I’ve dreaded them. Like the solo I’d agreed to do, and like keeping the watch a secret, and like I’d almost certainly agree to the duet, eventually. When I’d been about four or five, and scared to sleep in the dark, my grandmother had picked me up, carried me into my room, and turned off all the lights.

    “Elan,” she’d said to me, holding me tight as I tried to squirm free, crying in terror, “There is nothing in the dark that is not here in the light. You are not afraid of the dark, but of the unknown. Do not be afraid, but seek to embrace the dark, like I am embracing you.”

    I’d never forgotten that, which is why, just as the sun began to rise behind me, I rode down the hill and into the parking lot where twenty or twenty-five cheerleaders and roughly twice that many athletes greeted me. I barely recognized Ty, so bundled against the chill was he, but since he was the tallest student at Cascade, he stood out a little.

    I was just waving to him when arms wrapped themselves around me and I was hoisted in the air. I must admit I gave a surprised shriek and squealed a bit at that. Ty walked over and kinda grunted “Put her down Davis you trog. You gonna break her. Mornin’ ’Layne. You lookin’ nice.”

    As I was gently returned to earth I looked up, face flushed a little at the chill and a little with exertion, but mostly at the complement. I was about to respond when Coach Nicols told everyone to line up and took attendance and then we were on the bus and away.   Somehow I ended up in the midst of all the cheerleaders who claimed they were protecting me from the quote-unquote naughty boys who might try and take advantage of me while the coaches were otherwise occupied. At first I couldn’t figure out what the other girls were talking about but after a few minutes of listening to their suggestions and insinuations I felt my face begin to warm and at that moment I kinda wished I was anywhere but there. I think I even tried to hide under a seat at one point, but the girls decided a good tickling might get me over my shyness and proceeded to test their hypothesis.

    I was gasping for air and batting their hands away when we arrived at the Armstrong Cube (Center for Urban Beatification and Excellence, I kid you not) and almost everyone was off the bus before I’d managed to catch my breath again. I hurried to catch up with them but if it hadn’t been for Coach Nicols directing me to the Locker Room I’d have been totally lost in the underground maze of corridors, parking areas, and event pre-staging venues.

    For what happened next I can only claim temporary brain lock… Yes I’d seen girls naked before, in sex ed, on TV, Karen, my mother and sisters and cousins once or twice, and most recently myself, but I tell you now, nothing prepares you for the reality of walking into a locker room full of sixty or seventy cheerleaders (i.e. hotties) and athletes (also hotties) in various states of dress and undress. I opened that door and my mind went numb. I think some part of me was just waiting -- like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights -- to be seen and for the screams and cries of outrage to pour down upon me… but of course they didn’t come cause I was allowed to be there.

    Tabitha Moorehead, the Cheer Captain found me standing in the door, oogling all the luscious pulchritude (I have a very weird vocabulary) and dragged me over to where our team was changing. “Get changed, we’ve got like ten minutes to be out on the field.” Easy for her to say. A) she was already in her mini-skirt and belly-revealing top. B) she was actually - at least to all outward appearances -- comfortable being seen in public wearing an outfit that was at once less revealing and yet somehow more erotic, if that’s the right word, than a string bikini. And C) she wasn’t distracted by some rather profoundly disturbing tingling sensations that had, the moment I walked in the door, begun to well up deep inside of me… well, I don’t know about that last, but since I later saw her making out with… well that’s a tale for another time. Let’s just say that I’ve never gotten any indication that Tabitha Moorehead is anything other than completely boy-crazy and leave it at that.

    Let me tell you this though, for those of you who’ve never had to deal with swapping genders because of a bio-nano-tech Watch (or any other non-surgical instantanious method) If you think being an adolescent discovering that members of the opposite sex aren’t actually giant evil cookie machines and might be good for snogging or fondling or the occasional disturbing dream is hard, imagine discovering that you’ve turned into a member of said gender and discovering that those feelings haven’t vanished. Now walk into a changing room full of atractive individuals and see if your brain can withstand the hormone overload. Mine couldn’t. I just sat there on the bench until everyone had left except for Tabitha.

    She’d apparently decided I was still being shy because, right before she left, she said. “Okay, the coast is clear, you’ve got two and a half minutes. But Elayne…”

    I looked up at her, “Yeah?"

    "You’re gonna have to get used to changing in front of strange girls sooner or later.” And with a flick of her long hair she was out the door and up the ramp to the field. I shook my head to clear it of both the metal images of all those girls in various states of undress and the confusion those images were causing. It didn’t work at first so I tried again. When my mind stubbornly refused to rise out of the gutter I got changed.

    Let me tell you, if you’ve never put on a cheer-skirt, the first time to do so is not when you are emotionally concussed and in a hurry. Two minutes later I walked out of the locker-room, blissfully unaware that the skirt was on backwards. I was well on my way up the ramp when Ty stepped out of the shadows… well, not really. He got up from where he’d been fastening his track shoes and smiled at me in that “Ain’t I da Man” way I’d gotten so used to over the six days.

    “All set, Layne?” he looked me up and down, then grinned, “Guess not.”

    “Huh?” I said, proving once more that Intellect has nothing to do understanding people.

    “Skirt’s on backward” is what he said, but he might as well have been speaking Tibetan for all that. I looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown horns and repeated myself. “Huh?”

    Rather than trying to explain to his obviously mentally impaired girl-friend -- another thing I was confused about -- he pulled me close and fixed my skirt. His nearness made me feel suddenly very small and very conscious of the fact that I was wearing a very skimpy skirt and a top that showed way too much of my tummy.

    Once my clothes looked presentable, or at least looked that way to Ty, he took me by the hand and lead me out onto the field. Ok, I’ve been in the stands at Armstrong before, at least a dozen times in point of fact, but I’ve never been on the field before. Never ever. As I took in the vast (and very noisy crowd) I froze. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and as the roaring got suddenly a thousand times louder and then began to rapidly fade away to silence I realized I was going to faint again. My vision went all dark and I must have staggered against Ty because the next second I was in his arms and he was whispering something in my ear.

    At first I couldn’t make it out but as I focused on it, the silence parted and was not replaced by the roar of the crowd. A few moments later I recognized it as the lullaby “hush little darling” and I relaxed, just a little. When I was once again stable (physically, not mentally… the first is possible, the second? After this week, even if genetics weren’t a factor, I doubt I’d ever be even close to stable again.) I pushed myself away from him and smiled weakly. “Sorry, just…” I trailed off, unable to think of what I could say by way of explaination.

    “Stage fright?”

    I nodded. “Yeah. I kinda get nervous when people notice me.”

    “Yeah. My sister was that way… you know before…”

    I nodded again. “Yeah, before the accident. You sang to her too?”

    I swear he blushed, but with his dark complexion it was impossible to tell. “Sometimes. She’d smile and…”

    I hugged him, forgetting for a moment that I was in front of forty thousand people. When I released him he held on for a second and had this funny look in his eye when we were at last face to face again. I couldn’t take the intesity of his gaze so I looked out at the crowd, searching for our school’s colors. As I scanned the sea of faces I caught a glimpse of a smirking, malicious little face and froze. There in the crowd, her beady little eyes fixed right on me was Pig.

    She noticed me noticing her and do you want to know how I know she noticed? I know because, keeping her eyes fixed on mine she mimed making a call and then ever so slowly drew her index finger across her throat.

    Before I could, I don’t know -- freak out, run into the stands and tazer her, hide, break down in a pittiful sobbing mass -- Ty took me by the shoulder and guided me over to where the other two were warming up. He announced his presence by rather cheerily saying, “Hey guys, look-see what found.”

    Jim grinned, “Ooo it’s a mascot. We needed one-a them.”

    “Still, it’s a shame she ain’t got bigger tits.” Davis added, then howled with laughter. Ah the joys of adolescent humor.

    Ty tensed and Jim threw an empty power-ade bottle at Davis . Before things could devolve into a full fledged ruckus, the loud speakers blared and an anouncer began to welcome everybody to the proceedings, yada, yada, yada, and so on.

    Pretty soon the formalities were over and it was time for the competition. I did my best to cheer the boys on, bouncing up and down, yelling, trying not to be too selfconcious and only managing because I knew that everyone was focused on the competators and not on the idiot girl in the stupid skirt on the sidelines. I brought them their shoes and those light weight jacket and pants suits they wear over their running gear. I was especially good at getting them towels and power-ade before and after each race, not to mention durring the longer ones (which are classified as cross country I learned). I even gave out a few good luck kisses (on the cheeks, you pervs) and more than one consolation kiss. Still by the end of the five hour meet, Ty had won six races, including heats, for a total of two medals, Davis had won three, and Jim only one. Of course his only event was the 5000 meter, so he only was eligible for one.

    I was dead on my feet as we reboarded the bus, but strangely elated. Never in my life had I been as active or as in public as I’d been today and somehow I’d survived both. The excersize hadn’t killed me, and neither had the crowd. The bus was fairly buzzing too, happy cheerleaders and exausted but amped athletes. Still, as person after person either drifted off into nap land or hushed conversations, my elation slowly faded as dread over what lay at home loomed large in my mind.

    There was simply no way Pig would ever not tell my parents. This was too good an opportuinity to pass up. I was busted and I knew it. Pig isn’t stupid. All week I’d been dressing like a girl, and she’d gotten in trouble for it. She’d even seen me in a filmy nightie, which she almost certainly could have seen enough through to put two and two together and get a nearly perfect intiger, at least had she not been so stunned at the time. She’d have to know I was a girl, and if she didn’t then she could tell my parents that I was a crossdresser and was kissing boys… boys who were two years older than me.

    Busted was exactly the word for it. I considered calling Karen and asking her advice, but I didn’t want her to get into trouble on my account. Yeah, I know that real friends are always willing to get into trouble on each other’s behalf, but real friends don’t get each other into trouble when it can be avoided. So I sat and I stewed and I ignored Ty when he tried to talk to me and Davis when he made some stupid remark that got him slugged a few times in the shoulder. I sat and stewed and stewed as I sat.

    What would I say to my parents? What could I say? I could reveal the secret of the watch, just get everything out in the open and be done with it. The problem with that idea was that my parents would try to interfere. Also they wouldn’t want their own presents and would almost certainly try and take the watch away. If they couldn’t manage that they’d probably take me out of school to minimize my social hardship factors and to keep people from finding out. They’d also make me see a councilor and probably make me act like a boy at all times. They’d take away the programming manual. Anyway, if I told them the truth Sam would know I lied to her, and be hurt. So clearly I couldn’t tell them the truth. So what could I do. I stewed somemore.

    I could tell them what I’d told Sam. That was the easiest thing to do. I’d get in trouble, sure, and they would take away my unsupervised lab privileges, and they’d probably still make me see a councilor but… I could see no other way out. Still there was one big problem with this plan and it was a big one. The question was, was it one I could live with.

    As we pulled into Cascade’s parking lot I ran through my reasoning again in my mind, checking and double-checking everything I was going to say and every possible counter argument. Did I have a choice? I had to admit that I did, in fact, have a choice. Was it a pleasant one? Not even remotely.

    I got off the bus, thinking about that last bit. That was grandpa’s whole point wasn’t it. Unpleasant choices and having to make them. I looked over at my bike and then walked the other way. I headed down the hill that seperated Cascade Middle from Crestview Elementary and sat on one of the swings in the deserted playground. I sat there, gently rocking back and forth for a long, long time. My watch beeped, telling me I had an incoming call. I didn’t even bother to look and see who it was, just connected the transmission, said “I’m fine. I’ll be home soon.” And hung up.

    Grandpa had said that the whole point of this experiment was to make a better kind of human. And to teach me about being proud of who and what I am. He wanted me to make a choice. On the face of it, that choice was to be a boy or a girl, and the date of decision was 51 weeks and a day away, so there seemed to be no hurry. But I’d missed the biggest choice of all, one I hadn’t realized I’d missed or that it was even a choice at all.

    I’d been going along for the ride the entire time, acting as if the universe (or my grandfather) had played a mean, cruel, and unreasonable joke on me, forcing me to act and be a certain way. But that wasn’t it at all. Not really. I’d just missed it. I had chosen to think of it as unreasonable, as cruel, as unfeeling, as something forced on me. I’d chosen to complain, to just try and cope with the changes happening to my body. But they were also happening to me, to my whole being. And it was time to embrace the process, not to fight against it. I wasn’t a passenger, I was the pilot, and dammit all, if I had to pick the destination, I was going to chart the course.

    That decided, I pulled out the manual, navigated my way to the Conversion Engine menu and tapped the Girl Year option. A short description popped up on the screen, notifying me that the Boy Day Lock Out feature was irreversible and would also void any emergency Boy Reversions. It asked me if I wanted to proceed.

    I tried to say yes, but my throat was too dry and way to tight, so it came out as a kind of half choke. I tried again, but couldn’t manage it any better this time. I got off the swing and pulled a half empty power-ade bottle from my backpack. I took a long swig and tried again. My hands were shaking.

    The screen cleared and then a calendar function appeared. It listed how just how much boy time I was giving up and pointed out that I wouldn’t be able to be a boy again until 11/01/2030, 11:01 pst. Again it asked me to confirm. I growled, annoyed at this and said yes again. Grandpa’s face appeared on the screen.

    “What’s going on?” he asked.

    “I’m cancelling Boy Time.”

    “Why?”

    “Never you mind why, just let me do it. It’s my choice.”

    “My scans show you to be emotionally stressed and physically exhausted. I think it best you wait and-”

    I cut him off. “Look you ass. This is my life. My choices. You said to choose, but flipping back and forth isn’t choosing. Its vacilation. Its waffling. Its taking the easy way out. I’ve been a boy, whether I appreciated it or not, for 11 years. To really know what being a girl is like I’ve got to be one all the time. I can’t just be one while waiting for Boy Day’s to come around. I’ve got to go whole hog, and find out what kind of girl or boy or person I really am and I’m going to do it my way! So shut up and let me do this.”

    And you know what? He shut up and the screen cleared and it flashed “Girl Year Mode Activated.”

    So I got on my bike and rode home.

 

To be concluded in Part 17 (already written) The Epilogue is Prologue.

Didja think it was over?

by Jesse Rabbit

Chapter 17 - The Epilogue is Prologue

    I was, indeed, in trouble. The whole family -- mom, dad, little sister, big sister, and even my seldom at home big brother Lawrence -- had gathered in the living room. My mom looked angry, my dad and Lawrence looked confused, Sam looked supportive (she gave me a thumbs up), and Pig looked victorious.  Mom opened her mouth to, I assume, begin the interrogation slash beratement, but I held up one hand and cut her off.

    "As the accused, it is my right to speak first, so here goes. I am now, and will be for the next year, a girl.” Everyone besides Sam looked shocked, stunned, and/or angry at this, but I pressed on. “Please hold all questions to the end.” And I told them the lie. I know its wrong to lie, and if this was one of those stupid teen fiction books, there would be some corny lesson about how the truth is this all powerful good thing and that lying is bad and a betrayal and would eventually come to bite you on the ass. Well, this isn’t that book and lying and telling the truth can bite me. I did what I had to do, to protect myself, to protect my grandfather, and to protect my family’s feelings. I also did it because I wanted to, cause I thought then, and still think now that it was the right decision, and that’s enough of a reason for anybody. There were rules to this game, after all, and I wasn’t ready for the adventure to end. Not with the score at 1 to 51, not with the game barely begun.

    So, I talked for a long time, then answered their questions. Lawrence and Samantha were both supportive, Mom and Dad were too, but mad at me for not telling them and for experimenting on myself, even with Grandpa’s help and supervision. I didn’t loose my lab rights, but I had to promise to give daily reports of my experiments and processes until further notice. And yes, I have to go see a councilor. But that’s it. They agree that it’s my life, and I can do what I want as long as I don’t hurt myself or anyone else. They didn’t even ground me. Hell, dad wants me to submit the process to the Journal of the American Medical Association. I reminded him that I’d already done that, and he reminded me that that article had been on gender reassignment in a hamster, not a human. So I agreed to talk to the interviewer who’d done the first interview and made a mental note to bug grandpa about how he’d modified my process. Pig, who’d just sat there throughout the whole monologue looked daggers at me, clearly displeased with me for ruining her plan to get me in so much trouble that I’d need scuba gear just to breathe, finally stomped into the kitchen to help Ya Wei with dinner.

    By that time diner was ready but as I wasn’t very hungry I excused myself and went upstairs to do some homework. I flopped down in front of my computer and turned the monitor on. I had seven new emails, so I figured I’d check them first. They’d probably be from Karen anyway. Three were in fact from Karen, one was from my cousin Kim, and the other three were from senders I didn’t recognize. I opened the first, which was from [email protected].

    It was from Ty.

     Hey Layne, its Ty.

     You know, from school and stuff. I got your addy from the School Netsite. Anyway. You were so quiet on the bus I hope you weren’t mad at me or the guys or anything. I hope you are okay. See you in school on Monday?

Love Tyrone

PS - Be my Girlfriend? Please say yes.

    I sighed and transferred the message into the reply later folder. I had to think about that. Was I ready to be a girlfriend… and have a real, official boyfriend? Was I that kind of girl? I didn’t know, so I opened the next one, from [email protected]. I was thus not surprised to discover it was from Kristen Duncan, though I was surprised to learn her middle name was
Scott. She’d sent me an audio file of her singing both parts of the duet and asking me if I wanted to go to Everland with her and Karen (who she’d cc’d) on Sunday (i.e. tomorrow) instead of on the boat. That I could answer and said “sure.” I looked back at Ty’s letter. Maybe I wanted a girlfriend? I certainly liked Kristen, but was it like, or something more. And was it anything less with Ty. Still no answers, so I opened the last.

 

    It was from [email protected] and it had only these ten words in it

     I KNOW YOUR SECRET AND I WILL GET YOU RUBY

 

    I remember thinking, “Who the hell is Ruby?” and “Which secret?” and “Get me? Why?” I deleted the message with a shrug, must be a
malf, a mispage. In hind-sight, if I’d just gone down stairs and told Lawrence , who’s in law school and all, about the email, I’d have saved myself and my friends a lot of trouble. But that’s another story.

    I went to bed and the last thing I remember thinking was, “At least next week will be a lot calmer than this one was.” Boy was I wrong.

 

To be continued in Book 2, Watch Out Here I Come

There comes a time in every story when it must begin... so, in the immortal words of Rhino the Hamster "LET IT BEGIN!"

Chapter Zero: Enter the Duction

Okay, I know what you have heard, and I think its time I made something perfectly clear. I am a Guy! Capital G, little uy… Guy. Just because I’ve got a vagina at the moment, doesn’t do anything to change that fact. And I’m not talking a guy as in born in a girl’s body, although there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just that’s not me. I can see this is going to take a lot of explanation, but don’t worry, I’ll be brief.

It all started with a watch… The Watch… given to me by that insane genius, Horace Winter… my grandfather… two weeks after his death. Put it on and presto change-o, the next thing you know I'm the boy with two X chromosomes.

Oh yeah, my name is Elan Owen, and this is my story… part two.

Coming Soon: Chapter 1 — Iguana Hold Your Hand