---

What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

---

 

Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

I look over at Jill. We are both in her living room, sprawled out on the floor, books scattered everywhere—working our way through our algebra homework and getting ready for the big test at the end of the week.

What? Who is Jill, you ask? Sorry—Jill Holiday. She is my best friend. Well, my only friend, to be honest. She lives next door to me and I have known her since, well, since I can remember, since we were both born here.

What? Me? Oh! Yeah, right. I am James Tiberius Alexander, III. Yeah, I come from a long line of nerds. I think that is partly why I don’t have any friends. The other part, well, I don’t like to talk about…

So, why do I have a girl as my best friend, you ask? Well, like I said—we’re neighbors. We have just known each other for so long that we are basically family to one another.

What? How long is that? Oh—well, I am going on sixteen and Jill is six months older than me. She is totally hot and has a steady boyfriend; we get along well enough, but I don’t count him as an actual friend--more of an ‘acquaintance’.

Oh, OK—I’ll tell you. You see, I’m nearly sixteen and haven’t had much luck with the puberty fairy. Yes, I am pretty sure, it has visited me. But you wouldn’t ever know it. Not like with Jill. Did I mention that she’s hot?

Now, I may not look like a jock, but I’m a guy. No, I am! Really!

Fine! Don’t trust me, then! I mean just because my best and only friend is one of the hottest and girly-girliest girls in school. And just because I have not bulked up and turned into some testosterone-bound hulk, doesn’t mean I’m not a guy!

You’ll see. Just wait!

Anyway, back to the story…

---

I look over at Jill. We are both in her living room, sprawled out on the floor, books scattered everywhere—working our way through our algebra homework and getting ready for the big test at the end of the week.

I look back down in thought and tap my chin with my pencil, deep in thought. I throw out in a nonchalant voice, “You know that new girl, Barbara, right?”

She sighs and marks an answer, then says, “Barbie? Sure, she just moved in last week, but she seems nice enough. We sort of adopted her into our group—until we know if she will really fit in anyway.”

I shake my head. Girls and their posses…

“Do you think you could introduce me?” I am carefully looking at my book and not her. I mean I know I would never have a chance with this girl. She is as hot as Jill!

Jill giggles, “Seriously? You don’t know?”

I look up at her confused.

She shakes her head, “Sure. I can introduce you to her—but you need to know that she is only into girls. At least as far as I know. Plus, when did you become interested in girls?”

My face falls and I am quiet for a minute. I even answer another algebra question before I answer her.

“What do mean? I mean, I am interested in girls—I’m not gay. Not like her, I guess. What? Don’t give me that look. I am a guy!” I continue in a small voice, “Even if I don’t look like one.”

She throws her pencil at me and hits me squarely in the hand—perfectly with the eraser end. She can even throw a pencil better than me—I would have probably stabbed her in the eye with the sharp end, while aiming at the same spot she hit me in.

“James Tiberius Alexander, the Third! I can’t believe you just said that!” She continues her admonishment, “You are the sweetest boy I know! Greg could learn a lot from you!”

I know she means well, but that is the most crushing blow a hot girl can give a loser guy, like me—‘sweet’. It is the kiss of death in terms of ever being able to get a girl. Every guy in my position knows what I mean!

My face falls even further and she gives me a strange look. “What?” She asks in an exasperated tone.

I shake my head in silence.

She just dials up the intensity of her stare—she is approaching the ‘heavy stun’ setting. She will soon be at ‘kill’.

What? I told you that I come from a long line of nerds!

I shake my head and say, a bit more defensively than I intend, “That’s the kiss of death to a guy like me—a really hot girl calling me ‘sweet’. Kind of like your girlfriend breaking up with you and saying “it’s me—not you”.

She gets an angry look on her face, then it turns…confused, “Wait! You think I’m hot?”

Now it’s my turn to be confused. I nod and say, “Yeah. So? You are!”

She surprises me and comes over in a flurry of papers and gives me a huge hug, “Jimmy! That’s the nicest thing you have ever said to me! I had no idea… But, I wasn’t telling you that you’re sweet as a letdown. If I had known how you think about me before, I might not be with Greg, right now!”

I shake my head to clear out the explosions in it. “Huh?”

She smiles and says, “You are sweet—and clueless! Girls aren’t always looking for hulks. Sure, some are. Others appreciate the sweet guys. Trust me.”

She shakes her head at the same time I do.

She smiles, “We need to finish this up. I tell you what, I will talk to Barbie and see if there is any chance. How is that?”

I give her a non-committal shrug and nod as I turn back to my algebra. Inside, the fireworks are going off again.

What? I told you I’m a guy!

---

I walk to Jill’s house after school the next day. Normally, we would meet at my house today, but she texted me a bit ago to see if it’s OK to meet at hers again. Of course, I don’t really care—it does seem a bit odd, though.

I knock on the door and just go in—like always. She does the same when she comes to my house. Like I said, we are basically family.

I take off my heavy coat and hang it in the hall closet. I inwardly curse as my long hair gets caught in the closet door. I am still not used to it.

What? Oh, it’s a long story. I have been growing it for a year now to be in the church Christmas Play—you know; guys in Jesus’s time. Mom had talked me into letting it grow instead of wearing a wig. I thought I was going to have a coronary when Dad agreed. He just winked and said he had done the same as a kid. I tried to picture him with shoulder-length hair—I couldn’t. Until Mom showed me a picture that is.

I open the door and pull out the strands of hair that had gotten caught and hear Jill call to me from the kitchen. I am surprised that we are studying in there, but shrug and walk around the corner—and come to a screeching stop. I mean I think you could hear the screeching of my rubber soles on the hardwood floor!

Barbara is sitting at the kitchen island with Jill.

My heart has stopped along with my feet and I just stand there like an idiot, my long hair still in one hand and me rubbing my scalp where I had pulled it with the other.

Barbara smiles, nervously, it seems, and says, “Wow! Jill, you’re right. He is sweet!”

Jill nods and looks at me, “Jimmy? Are you going to come say hi to Barbie? I think we have some studying to do?”

My heart beats and skips three before trying it again.

I nod. I look down to make sure I am not wearing a red shirt. Everyone knows the ones wearing red die first.

I walk, sort of zombie-like, to the kitchen island and Jill nods to the chair next to her—with her between me and Barbie.

She hands me a can of Diet Pepsi and says, “Jimmy, meet Barbie. Barbie, this is Jimmy. I will leave it up to you to tell him what you told me—or not.”

She sighs nervously and looks at me.

I am thoroughly confused now—along with totally nervous and ultra-shy.

She takes a sip of her Diet and licks her luscious lips, “Hi, Jimmie. It is nice to meet you. Jill speaks very highly of you. That…is important to me. Ummm…she misunderstood something I said a while back. About boys, that is. I am not…ummm…a lesbian. At least not that I know of…”

She takes another nervous sip of her Diet and her hand is shaking. Jill gives her a hug.

Barbie is looking at her can, then looks at me, fear in her eyes. I feel terrible and I don’t even know why.

She continues, “I had a…boyfriend…before we moved here. Umm…he was over at my house after school one day. My parents weren’t home and he wasn’t supposed to be. He surprised me and I let him in. I knew better, but he was my boyfriend.”

She is shaking really bad now. Jill hugs her tighter.

She says in a barely audible voice, “If my parents had not shown up when they did… He wouldn’t take no for an answer… He ripped my clothes off… My Dad pulled him off of me—just in time. He is now in juvie—that bastard, not my dad.”

She smiles a bit when she says that—a slight sparkle in her eye.

I feel like some puddle of evil goo just having a Y-chromosome.

She finishes, “I have gone through lots of therapy and am beginning to be able to talk about it. I have to find some humor about something when I do, though—or I just fall apart.”

Her hands aren’t shaking as badly now. “Anyway, I…can’t even fathom having a boyfriend, right now. Honestly, it is really hard even being in the same room with you, right now. You know, without…supervision. But, I trust Jill that you won’t…”

I shake my head vehemently, “Gosh, no! I would never! I mean, I’m so sorry! I…”

She shakes her head and smiles through the tears that she couldn’t stop, “I never thought that I would ever be in the situation of considering ‘#MeToo’-ing my boyfriend. You and Jill are the only ones here that know the whole story, now. We moved here, so I could get away from that history and I don’t want to dwell on it—I can’t dwell on it. And you are sweet, but I am not sure that I can handle even this, right now.”

Jill squeezes her hand and wipes away her own tears. She says, “Come with me, Barbie. We need to fix your makeup and talk a minute.”

She leads her away up to her room and I sit there in the kitchen—in total shock.

I have decided it is best for me to go back home and let them study when Jill comes back in, alone.

She looks at me and I say, “I think it’s best if I leave you two here alone to study. It’s obvious that she won’t get anything done with me here. To be honest, I am good after our session, yesterday—and we didn’t get any new problems today.”

She smiles at me and comes to give me a big hug. “You really are sweet, Jimmy. I’ll see you in school tomorrow, OK?”

I…hug her back and breathe in her perfume. I am surprised as can be when she gives me a big kiss on my cheek.

I walk back to my house—half in ecstasy and half in horror. Ecstasy for my first ‘kiss’ and horror at what Barbie had just revealed to me.

---

As is usual at school the next day, I go through the day as a total loner. Of course, I see Jill and her posse, which now includes Barbie, but I don’t acknowledge them.

So, I am totally surprised when Jill comes over to me at lunch and whispers in my ear, “I have a plan for after school—if you are game. Barbie wants to study at my house again. Come over right after school—no need to change, or anything.”

She is gone back to her table before I have a chance to say a word. I notice Barbie look up at me and give me a shy, nervous smile. It is like a million candle-power spotlight hitting me!

I awkwardly smile back and look down at my food. I can’t help but wonder what this is all about!

I get off the bus with Jill. We ride the same bus, of course—we don’t ride together, though. She is always with the part of her posse that rides on our bus. As the bus driver closes the door behind us, she says, “Come on! Just come straight over. We don’t have a lot of time. Barbie’s mom is going to drop her off here in an hour to study—at our normal study time.”

I just look at her and follow her into her house, instead of going to mine to change out of our school uniform—the biggest thing that sucks about our school.

I expect her to go straight to her room to change out of her uniform: A skirt, blouse, silk neck-scarf, knee-high socks, and low-heeled Mary-Janes—the typical girl’s school uniform.

When she goes straight to the kitchen, instead, I say, “Go ahead and get changed, Jill. I have no idea why you wanted me over here this early, but you may as well get comfortable. I hope you don’t mind if I take my tie off, though!”

She giggles and says, “We’re studying in uniform today, but sure, take your tie off!”

I look at her confused.

She hands me a Diet and says, “OK, here’s the deal. Don’t worry, Barbs looked at me about the same way I expect you will be looking at me in a minute.”

I take my tie off and open the soda.

She continues, “My plan is make it so that Barbs is more comfortable with you being here. She needs our support, right now—and we need to keep up our grades. She is really smart and would be a great addition to our daily studying—not like the other girls in my clique, at all!”

I look at her and take a sip of my Diet, my eyes clearly conveying my exasperation.

She sighs, “Yeah, I’m stalling. I…think we should dress you in one of my school uniforms and…”

Diet Pepsi sprays throughout the kitchen. I can’t help it. I get choked and she has to slap my back hard to get me to breathe. I croak, still choking, “What?”

She shrugs, “Told you! Although, I think your look beat hers.”

She smiles crookedly, “Think about it, though, Jimmy. Your hair is longer than mine and…”

I groan, “And…?”

She continues with a sigh, “And you with your umm…non-hulk…figure, you could pull off looking like a girl. That will hopefully put Barbs’s mind at ease enough to study. Just think about it. It’s a great way to get closer to her and let her get to know you.”

“Great? As a girl? Are you crazy?” I have to fight really hard not to yell that last part.

She shrugs, “It’s completely up to you. Barbs didn’t think you would go through with it either. Although, she did see the benefits. I think she sort of likes you—she just isn’t back to trusting her feelings…yet.”

I groan. Much louder this time. I feel my face go red as I think about it—red from embarrassment at the thought of wearing a skirt. And redder from the possibility that Barbara…Barbie…Barbs might really like me.

I take a deep breath, “So… Let’s say I were to go along…”

She giggles and takes my hand and pulls me to her room. I haven’t been to her room in years—not since it was deemed inappropriate by our parents because of our age. It has changed—a lot. It is what I would sort of expect to see in a teenage girl’s room. Makeup and boy band posters and the such. The last time I was in here, there were still Barbies (the doll) and Little Ponies, and such on the shelves on the wall. Now, there are teen girl’s romance novels--tons of them.

I squeak out, “Should I be in here? I mean your parents…”

She shakes her head and says, “They’ll be fine with it—trust me.”

I look at her; the way she said that rings alarm bells. I ask, “And why is that?”

She shrugs as she starts pulling stuff out of her closet, “Because I asked Momma and she thinks it is really sweet of you to do this.”

My eyes bug out, “She knows? Wait! How did you know that I would…?”

She giggles and says, “Jimmy, I’ve know you my whole life. You are sweet—as a boy…and on Barbs. It was a no-brainer. But…I have to confess one more thing…”

My heart falls to my stomach.

She deals me the death blow, “My mom told yours…”

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

---

What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

---

 

Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

Part Two

I sit on Jill’s bed, my head in my hands. Her last words are still echoing in my mind, “My mom told yours…”

This can’t get any worse. At least that is what I think until, she adds, “…and they told Barbs’s.”

My head snaps up, “Wait! All three moms know? How do our moms even know Barbs’?”

She sighs, “My mom made me give her Barbs’s number. She wanted to make sure we weren’t going to do anything that would hurt Barbs.”

My face turns bright red, “Gee! I’m so glad that they’re worried about what it might do to me!”

She giggles and says, “Oh! Stop being so dramatic!”

Then she sees that I’m serious and sits down on the bed beside me, “Jimmy, this is your choice. No one is going to make you! Our moms are ok with it—I am as surprised as you—and Mrs. Greeley, Barbs’s mom is, too. They are all surprised that you would be, so it wouldn’t surprise them if you say no. And no one would hold it against you. I just thought you would like to get to know Barbs better—and this seems like the easiest way! That’s all!”

I shake my head and whisper, “Easier for who?”

She gives me a harsh look and asks, “Are you really so afraid of a skirt that you would give up on the chance to get to know Barbs? Maybe I misjudged you, after all!”

She may as well have slapped me! I look down to see if I’m wearing red… Nope! So, I’m not going to die.

I sigh, “No red blouse, though!”

She looks at me like I have lost my mind—then she gets it and giggles. She has known me long enough, after all.

“Promise! So, you’ll do it?” She looks searchingly into my eyes.

I nod and she goes back to her closet before I can change my mind.

I am still wondering how—no, when, all this discussion happened between our mothers. Both Jill’s and my moms work and are never home until well into our study sessions. I finally ask, “So, when did all of this transpire? Mom didn’t say a word to me about it!”

She goes to her dresser, a full uniform in her hand from the closet. She shrugs, “I asked Momma about it last night—after I got Barbs’s permission to tell her about…well, you know…”

I nod. She opens one of her drawers and gets out a clean pair of the knee-high socks that go with the uniform and says, “She was surprised, but thought it could work. She called your Mom at work today and sent me a text at school that your Mom was OK to go along with it—if Barbs and her Mom were. I got it at lunch right before I asked Barbs. Then I asked you after she said she was OK. Her Mom wants to meet you before she signs off on the idea, though.”

I shake my head at the conspiracy going on around me—with me being completely clueless! I can’t believe Dad would go along with this, though. Then I think about my hair and wonder.

Jill breaks into my thoughts by handing me an unopened package of girl’s panties. She says, “Momma insisted that you use a new pair. I happened to have this pack.”

I look at her bug-eyed and stammer, “Why do I need to wear any?”

She gives me a stern look and says, “You’re not going commando under my skirt!” She giggles at the look on my face.

Did I mention she can be a jerk at times—even if she is hot.

She continues, “Look. If you do this, you’re going to have to be a girl to disarm Barbs’s alarms. Now, you may easily pass in looks when we are done, but you clearly are not a girl. Sweet as you are, you are a guy.”

Suddenly, I am feeling better. My manhood is intact. I think.

I look at the panties in my hand and then back at her—the question clear.

She sighs, “You mother actually insisted that if you’re going to do this, it’s all or nothing. Until you learn to act more like a girl, feeling like one might help keep you in line.”

I am sure my eyes are going to pop out of my head. My mother is a traitor!

She shakes her head and says, “Look, Jimmy. We’re running out of time. Just go into my bathroom and put on the panties, then the blouse and the skirt. If you need help—not with the panties—then just let me know. I know that the buttons are smaller than you’re used to—and on the wrong side. The same with the skirt. The button, clasps, and zipper will be backwards to you.”

I shake my head.

I am a guy! No, really!

I keep telling myself that as I open the package of girl’s panties. Now, being a guy, I have never held girl’s panties before. I am surprised at how thin, soft, and stretchy they are. I look at the package and read that these are ‘microfiber bikini briefs’. It is a three-pack in pastel colors: Pink, yellow, and green. They don’t have a waistband like my ‘tighty-whiteys’. According to the package, they are ‘seamless’ and ‘no show’.

I sigh and take the green ones. They are the least girly, it seems. Although, there is no way that I can picture any self-respecting guy ever wearing the light pastel green panties in my hand. I strip down to my birthday suit and hesitate—then step into the panties and pull them up my legs.

I don’t know what to expect really. I figure that some brick will fall out of the sky and hit me in the head for wearing girl’s panties. But, well of course, that doesn’t happen. What surprises me is that I really like how they feel.

I groan! I’m a pervert! I like wearing girl’s panties…

I look at myself in the mirror and am surprised to see how form-fitting they are. I mean they are totally snugged up against my skin—hugging me tightly. But they are so comfortable! Not scratchy like my tight-whiteys. The only weird thing is seeing my little guy poking out in front.

No, I have not held girl’s panties, but I have looked in catalogs online and things.

Did I mention that the puberty fairy was not kind to me? It was more a fly-by sprinkling of puberty dust—and most of that missed. My little guy is, well, little. Even so, it looks funny…

I hear a slight knock on the door and Jill’s voice through it, “Are you OK in there, Jimmy?”

I nod, then blush when I realize she can’t see me. I grunt, “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.

I pick up the white blouse and notice the same thing about it. It is so soft. I think about my softest t-shirt—it is coarse grit sandpaper compared to this. I sigh and struggle with the buttons. Like Jill had warned me—there are many more, they are much smaller, and they are on the wrong side. After I get about half of them buttoned, I start to get the hang of it and fairly quickly button it all the way up.

I then pick up the skirt. It is wool—but so soft. It is also lined with a smooth, silky material. Another issue with my minimal puberty is that I have little body hair—no beard, at all. The smooth silky lining feels like heaven against my legs.

Sprinkling of puberty dust, or not—the one-two effect of the panties and the skirt lining has my little guy growing. I groan and Jill asks, “What’s wrong, Jimmy? Do you need help?”

I sigh and open the door. Even as little as he is, the tent in the skirt is visible and Jill giggles. She says, “Hang on!”

She leaves the room and comes back in a few minutes with an ice bag. She says, “Here, go back in there, hold this on it, and tuck him between your legs, then pull the panties up tight.”

I look at her like she is an alien. She shrugs, “What? I looked it up on the internet. I will show you the site later—there is…more…you will need to do, too… Just not now…”

I take a deep breath and take the bag.

I go back into the bathroom and pull the panties down. Now, let me tell you. If you’ve never iced your little guy, it is not recommended! It doesn’t hurt, per se, but it isn’t comfortable either. To my surprise, he quickly shrinks—even smaller than normal—and I do as Jill had said. I pull him back between my legs—he is almost too small to do so, now—and quickly pull up the panties. Once I am sure he is effectively trapped, I drop the hem of the skirt and go back out to Jill.

I am sure I am walking a little funny—it sure feels funny.

She smiles, “Much better—and a much better solution than Greg would have expected. You are sweet to go along with that!”

I groan inwardly. Then realize I could never ask her to do that. Not Jill—not any girl. I would never ‘expect’ that—nor demand it.

She looks at me and reads the look on my face. She comes over and kisses me on the lips—and not a quick peck. She says, “I am so going to have to reevaluate my relationship with Greg. If you and Barbs don’t work out.”

I blush and she says, “But… I am still pulling for you and her. Now, we have work to do.”

She hands me the pair of stockings. I feel them unconsciously and notice that they are, too, a lot softer than my best socks. I pull them onto my legs and sigh at the soft feel. I feel my little guy struggle a little at his prison. I realize it is not the thrill I have read cross-dressers have at putting on girl’s clothing. He likes the feel! I like the feel…

I am a guy! Right?

Jill is watching me closely and grins. She says, “It’s OK, Jimmy. Our clothes are tons nicer than guys. No one is going to fault you for liking superior clothing. Just remember, though, that the superior clothing belongs to the superior sex!”

She giggles at my sour look.

She hands me a pair of her shoes—she calls them Mary-Janes—and says, “I think these may fit. They are a girl’s seven-and-a-half.”

To both of our surprises, they are about a half to a size too big. Of course, I do have small feet for a guy.

Since I am not going to have to really walk much, the too large shoes are not an issue, but Jill says, “Well, your Momma is going to have to get you proper clothes, anyway. You just won’t be able to borrow any of my shoes.”

I just look at her like she has lost her mind. Then I realize that if I go through with this, that it won’t be just uniforms in the future—however long that may be.

I groan and hold my head in my hands as that firmly sinks in. Jill lifts my head with a gentle hand under my chin. She looks at her nightstand clock and says, “We are losing time, but you are doing fine, Hon. I get this is weird. It is for me, too.”

I startle at her calling me ‘Hon’. She looks at me and realizes it. She says, “Don’t let it go to your head, Hon. It’s a girl-to-girl thing—no, a girlfriend-to-girlfriend thing.”

I sigh.

She smiles. It’s not mocking. She says, “You have a lot to learn, Hon. I will help. Your Momma and mine are there for you, too. Let’s get Barbs’s in the mix, too?”

I look at her in horror. I whisper, “There is so much wrong with that statement, Jill! I’m not a girl! I…I…I…”

She comes over and hugs me—hard. It’s not a girl-boy hug, though—it is just…off. Later on, I come to realize it’s a girl-girl one. She starts brushing out my hair, which is oddly calming and says, “I know, Hon. No, you’re not a girl. But, you are willing to emulate one to help another. That makes you special! No matter that it may come with fringe benefits. You’re an honorary one and you’re a sister at heart!”

I sigh. I’m a guy, dammit! So, why am I wiping this stupid tear out of my eye?

I balk, though. Like ‘pitch a fit’ balk when she reaches for her makeup after brushing my hair to this shiny wondrous ponytail—no matter that it is high on the back of my head and bouncy like a girl’s. Like hers.

“Hang on! No one said anything about makeup!!!” I glare at her in the mirror.

She sighs and looks at the clock on her nightstand. She says, “We only have about fifteen minutes! I am not going to go full-out! Just a little eyeliner and mascara—well, and some lip gloss. It is minimal—like school makeup. It won’t kill you—but it will make the difference between Jimmy in a dress and the girl that wants to help Barbs!”

She doesn’t wait for me to allow it and simply starts applying something with this huge broomstick to my eyes. She seems to be in deep thought, while doing it, though. Not in thought about what she is doing—that is like automatic—it is something else… Finally, after she switches from the broomstick to the broom she says, “I think we need to figure out what to call you… ‘Jimmy’ is obviously not going to get it…”

I sigh.

I sigh again…

I sigh once more and she finishes my eyes, then starts putting this crap on my lips with a kitchen mop…

When she is done, I look at myself in the mirror and nearly crap in my panties.

I LOOK LIKE A GIRL!

A…cute girl!

She asks, “See what I mean? How about…Ginny?”

I shake my head…

“That is too close to Jimmy. I don’t want anything close to the real me… Mom once told me that she would have named me Christine—of course after the nurse on Star Trek—if I had been born a girl. Maybe we should go with that?”

She smiles, “OK, Chrissy it is!”

I groan—now I have a girl’s nickname!

She asks, “What do you think?”

I sigh and say, “It scares me to admit what I think!”

She smiles and hugs me, “Come on, Chrissy. They will be here any minute!”

And she takes me by the hand and pulls me down the steps to the kitchen.

---

She pulls me into the kitchen at a full run. I am doing my best not to trip in the too-big shoes and I nearly croak when we almost literally run into Mrs. Holiday.

She says, “Slow down, girls!”

Then she does a double-take when she realizes who I am.

Jill asks, “Do you think…she…will do, Momma? I don’t have time to change anything. Mrs. Greeley will be here with Barbs any moment!

She shakes her head in wonder, “I can’t believe it! To be honest, if I didn’t know… So, Jimmy, are you sure you want to do this? I came home early and promised your Momma that I would make sure you are OK…”

Jill says, “Momma…”

She cuts her off, “Quiet, Jill! I want to hear this from, Jimmy!”

I sigh, “I have no idea, to be honest, Mrs. Holiday. It’s happened all so fast. All I know is that when I am dressed like this, please call me…Chrissy. And you will be one of the first to know when this gets too much to handle. Right now I am too numb to know…”

She nods and says, “OK, then,…Chrissy. Mrs. Greeley just called a bit ago and they should be here in about five minutes. If she is OK with Barbara staying, then I will be in the living room while you study. If any of you have a problem with what is going on, you just have to let me know. OK?”

Both Jill and I nod. I think I am more earnest, though.

I jump when the doorbell rings. Jill hugs me and goes to the front door to answer it. Mrs. Holiday smiles at me and asks, “Are you sure you’re OK with this, …Chrissy? You can slip upstairs—no harm, no foul!”

I shake my head and say, “Thank you, Mrs. Holiday. But I have come this far. I think I need to give it a chance. Just stay close… I feel like I am wearing red!”

She gives me a really funny look. Of course, she has no idea what I am talking about—and I don’t have a chance to explain, because Jill comes in with Barbie and her Mom right at that moment.

I fade back behind Mrs. Holiday as Jill makes introductions—until Jill says, “And this is… Chrissy, Hon, come meet Mrs. Greeley. Well, and Barbs, since you haven’t met, yet, either.”

I sigh and step out from behind Jill’s mom and shyly say, “Hi. It’s very nice to meet both of you.”

Mrs. Greeley’s eyebrows suddenly disappear behind her bangs. She asks incredulously, “This is…the ummm…boy we are talking about? Jimmy?”

Jill says, “Well, for now, this is Chrissy. But, yes, normally we would be talking about Jimmy.”

She shakes her head and looks straight at me, “Are you OK with this, Hon? No one is coercing you, right?”

I smile at being called ‘Hon’. I now know that is…a definite term of endearment among females. I shake my head, “No Ma’am, no one is coercing me. I can’t say I am OK, but time will tell on that one. I want to give this an honest effort for your daughter, though.”

I figure honesty is the best policy, right now.

She nods. She seems satisfied and looks at Mrs. Holiday, “OK, Betty. Thank you for looking out for them. Please let me know if you need me?”

Mrs. Holiday nods and says, “Of course, Grace. I will have Barbara ready for you to pick up at eight—after dinner—assuming we make it that far.”

She smiles and Jill shows her to the door.

I stand there stunned. Dinner?

Mrs. Holiday says, “Ummm…Chrissy… You know where everything is, so I am going to rely on you to help Jill be hostess. I will order pizza around six. Mr. Holiday is on a business trip and won’t be here, but your Momma is coming over to eat with us girls. Is that OK?”

I want to die. I really do. I look down to make sure I am not wearing red. Of course, I’m not.

I look at a scared Barbie and steel my resolve. I say, “Yes, that’s fine Mrs. Holiday. Barbie, would you like a Diet Pepsi? I think that is what you were drinking yesterday?”

She nods, “Yes, …Chrissy. I would love a Diet. Thanks, …Hon!” She looks at Mrs. Holiday and says, “Mrs. Holiday, please call me Barbie—only my Mother calls me Barbara”.

I smile and grab a can from the fridge. I hand it to her and we sit down as Jill comes back in and Mrs. Holiday nods to Barbie in acknowledgement and gives us a final look before going into the living room. We all quietly pull out our books. I mean it is weird. I am sitting here in a girl’s uniform and I see my long, thick eyelashes flutter every time I blink. I also taste the cherry flavor of the lip gloss when I sip my drink—and see the outline of my lips on the can when I set it down.

Jill acts like everything is normal.

Barbie just looks at me and shakes her head. Finally, she says, “Ji… Chrissy, I really appreciate what you’re doing here. But, you don’t have to do this for me. You and Jill have been friends for too long to let me get between you and mess up your studying! I can just go home…”

I shake my head and point at a problem that I actually know the answer to, but ask, “So, how do we solve this one? I’m not sure…”

Jill smiles. She knows very well that I know the answer. She just asks, “Barbs, can you explain it? I’m not sure I know, either.”

She just looks at both of and her eyes call ‘bull’, but she shrugs and explains how to solve the problem.

After what seems like just minutes, we all look up in surprise when Mrs. Holiday comes in and asks, “Are you girls about ready to order pizza?”

I look at the clock and see it is nearly six. I’m stunned! I hadn’t thought about being dressed as a girl for over an hour.

No! I’m a guy! Really!

Barbs reaches over and grabs my hand and whispers, “Thank you, Chrissy!”

I just smile.

Jill says, “Yes, Momma! I’m starved!”

She smiles and picks up her phone.

The doorbell rings and Jill says, “Chrissy, that has to be your Momma. Do you want to get it—or should I?”

I blanche. Barbs looks at me and says, “You’ve got this, right, Chrissy?”

I hesitate and nod when she squeezes my hands. I get up—expecting to meet my doom. I check again to make sure I am not wearing red…

And open the door.

Mom is standing there in the cold and says, “Thank you, … Jimmy…?”

I say, “You should probably come in, Mom, so I can close the door…”

She smiles and comes in—in as much shock as I am. She says, “I would never have known… If I didn’t already…”

Mrs. Holiday comes into the hallway and says, “Oh, Hi Cindy! I see you have met your daughter, … Chrissy.”

She looks at me and the light dawns in her eyes, “Chrissy as in Christine? Christine Chapel?”

I feel my face burn red and nod.

Mrs. Holiday looks at us both, confused. Then she smiles, “Red! I get it. OK. So, I’m not a Trekkie, but I do know the basics! Anyway, come in and let’s talk about where this goes from here. The pizza should be here in about twenty minutes!”

Mom follows us in, still stunned. By now, I am beyond embarrassment. At least for now. I sweep my skirt—as Jill and Barbs both admonished me every time I had gotten up and sat back down—and sit down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.

Mom just shakes her head and takes a seat—as does Mrs. Holiday.

We pack away our things and Mom looks at the three of us and says, “OK, spill. How did it go?”

Jill pipes up, “I think I’m ready for the test tomorrow!”

Barbs nods, “Me, too! We were a little behind at my old school from where we’re at here, but I feel really good about it, now!”

I just shrug and nod, “Me too.”

So, sue me! I am a guy!

Mrs. Holiday and mom both look at us in exasperation. Mrs. Holiday says, “I don’t think that is what Mrs. Alexander meant!”

She is shaking her head, “I’m glad you’re all ready for the test, tomorrow. That is certainly important! But…how did it go?”

Jill giggles and says, “It was just us three peeps studying. We did great! Right, girls?”

Barbs nods emphatically and says, “I haven’t had a study session this good since third grade!”

I just turn red and quietly nod.

At that moment, the doorbell rings and Mrs. Holiday goes to pay for the pizza. She returns with two medium pizzas, one all vegetable, and one with pepperoni. I am a little shocked. I can almost eat a medium by myself.

That is when I learn that girls don’t eat like ‘pigs’.

But, I am a guy! No, really!

I take a piece of pizza and the side salad that Mrs. Holiday also had ordered for each of us. I quietly chew on a bite of salad and Mom shakes her head, “Chrissy, you need to take smaller bites, Hon!”

I look down at my piece of pizza and the bite taken out of it and compare it to everyone else’s. Mine is twice the size. I hold my tongue, though. This isn’t the place to complain. After that, I pay attention and takes smaller bites—nibbles really—and chew them to death. I am totally surprised when I’m actually pretty full after the one piece of pizza and the salad.

It’s a good thing because Mrs. Holiday puts the rest in the fridge and then looks at us again. I guess it was too quiet for her. It was really quiet while we were eating—like no one knew what to say.

She sighs and says, “OK, I can tell Jill is OK with all of this…”

The doorbell rings and she looks up at the clock. She shakes her head and goes to let Mrs. Greeley in. When they come back into the kitchen, she is asking, “…still a lot left if you would like some?”

Mrs. Greeley looks at us and says, “Hi, Cindy. Hi girls. No thanks, Betty, I just ate a bit ago.”

She sits down at the counter and Mom says, “You’re just in time, Grace—the girls were just getting ready to talk about how it all went. So far, they’ve been very noncommittal. So, we’ve established that Jill is OK with it all—but, then, she has the least to gain or lose. Ji…errr…Chrissy? Do you intend to continue this?”

I sigh and look at Jill—her face is full of hope. I then look at Barbs—hers seems to be full of hope, too. I sigh again. To say I am conflicted would be a huge understatement. I slowly nod and say, “Yes, I’m up on giving this some more time. It’s weird for me, but we did have a good study session and I, well, I had fun, too.”

OK, so I am a guy—but it’s nice to have friends, too.

Mrs. Greeley looks at Barbs and asks, “Barbara? This was OK for you? You didn’t have any panic attacks? Do you want to keep going with this?”

She nods without hesitation, “None here, Momma—just a couple at school. Here, it was just a fun afternoon. We studied hard, but it didn’t seem like it. I made up a lot of ground in algebra today!”

Mrs. Greeley smiles and nods, “OK, then! Cindy, Betty, how do we best coordinate this? We don’t live that far away, but it isn’t really walking distance.”

Mom says, “How about Barbie rides the bus home with Jill—then everyone can meet either here or at our house to study like Jill and Jimmy used to—only after Chrissy…err…is ready? Then you can either pick Barbie up, or one of us can drive her home?”

Both Mrs. Greeley and Mrs. Holiday are nodding and Mrs. Greeley says, “Yes, that would work, I think.”

Jill says, “You can leave some after-school clothes here to change into, Barbs. That way we’ll be more comfy for studying.”

Mom clears her throat and says, “I guess that means that Chrissy and I are going to have to go shopping this weekend to get her some comfy clothes.”

Jill giggles and asks, “Can I go, too? I would love too!”

To everyone’s surprise, Barbs speaks up, “Oh! Me too! May I?”

I am slowly sliding out of my chair and disappearing under the counter. Shopping? For girl’s stuff? With two of the hottest girls in school?

Mom answers for me, “Of course! I’m sure Chrissy would love that, wouldn’t you, Hon?”

Wait--as a girl?

I ask, “You mean go shopping as Chrissy? Seriously?”

I see three adult women and two girls all nodding at me, looking at me like I’m some sort of idiot.

Mom says, “How else are we going to get you the proper things? It’s settled. We’ll go to the mall first thing after school tomorrow! That way it will be less conspicuous that Chrissy is in a school uniform. Betty, can we borrow this one for a bit longer? Grace, we’ll drop Barbie off at home when we’re done. Is that OK?”

Mrs. Holiday quickly agrees to me keeping the spare uniform and Mrs. Greeley nods. Suddenly we are all moving towards the door. Jill gives me a hug goodbye. The same type of hug she gives Barbs—and the same type of hug she gives her ‘peeps’ at school. To my surprise, Barbs gives me one, too. I hug them both back—awkwardly.

Then Mom and I walk home and hurry in out of the cold. I am still dressed as Chrissy and I get my first taste of cold air and skirts. I am complaining to a smiling Mom when Dad pokes his head around the corner and asks, “Jimmy? Is that really you?”

Mom smiles at him and says, “Honey, meet your daughter, Christine—Chrissy for short. You will be seeing a lot more of her, it seems.”

He shakes his head and asks, “Are you OK with this sport—I mean really OK?”

I look at him and blow out my breath. I say, “It’s really weird, Dad, but I will give a try. Jill, Barbs, and I studied really well today and Barbs didn’t have any panic attacks the whole time we were studying, like she probably would have had if I been there as, well me. I…ummm…like her, Dad.”

I blush.

He winks and says, “Well, it’s your dignity. Just remember that you can stop this anytime you want, OK?”

I nod and Mom says, “Chrissy, the girls, and I are going shopping after school tomorrow. We will eat out, so you’re on your own, OK?”

He rolls his eyes and looks at me in sympathy. He just says, “Yes, Dear. I will be fine. You…girls…have fun.”

Mom then takes me upstairs and shows me how to clean off the makeup, properly wash my face, and then moisturize and put all this other…stuff…on it to keep my skin ‘looking good’.

I drop into bed dead tired, but pull up the website that Jill insists I check out. My eyes bug out of their sockets and fall on the bed when I see what she wants me to do!

Well, not really—but they should, since I want to gouge them out. I have trouble sleeping even just thinking about it.

---

I ace the algebra test—I have no doubt that I have everything right. I notice Jill and Barbs hugging as we leave the classroom and Jill gives me a thumbs-up and a broad smile.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly—and then the final bell rings. I get on the bus to ride home with a sense of impending doom. I notice Jill get on the bus, Barbs right behind her. They both smile at me as they pass by me to sit with the posse. Jill winks at me and I can’t help but blush.

Twenty minutes later, the three of us get off at our stop and they go to Jill’s while I go to my house. I go in the front door and—even though I know she is home—am still surprised to find Mom home. She took off early—special for our shopping trip.

She peeks out of the kitchen and smiles, “Go on up and get changed into the other uniform, Hon. I want to leave as soon as we can. Jill said she and Barbie—Barbs, as she calls her—will be right over. Jill will help you with your makeup, but you’re going to have to learn to do your own, you know.”

I blush and hurry upstairs.

I take off my uniform, hang up the coat and tie, and put the rest in the dirty clothes hamper. I stand there in my panties and blush. I don’t know why, but I had worn the yellow pair to school today; Jill had insisted I just keep the whole three-pack. There was basically zero chance of anyone finding out—and they just feel so good. I couldn’t help myself.

I sigh and take Jill’s spare uniform out of my closet, where I had carefully hung it up last night at Mom’s insistence. I put it on, more quickly this time, since I have a better idea of what I’m doing.

I tuck my little guy before I put the skirt on.

I follow the ‘extra’ instructions from the site that I had visited last night, but only after standing there and staring at myself for several minutes. Finally—I don’t know where the courage (or is it stupidity?) comes from—I lay down on my bed and give my guys the little push the site instructed me to. Having my little balls disappear up inside me is really scary—and feels strange. But when I move around, I have to admit that it’s more comfortable than having them squished up by my little guy between my legs.

I pull my panties…

OK, OK, yes, I said my panties. I am a guy, though. Really!

I pull my panties up tight to hold everything in and do some squats in the skirt. I find that I can move reasonably well. I put on the stockings and then the shoes. I am just finishing tying them when I hear Mom call me downstairs. Jill and Barbs are here. Of course, they got to change out of their uniforms.

I go downstairs and sit at our kitchen island while Jill first brushes my hair back into a tight, high ponytail, then puts some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss on my face.

Once I am, once again, Chrissy, Mom leads us to her car and drives us to the mall. I want to slide down into the floorboard, but Jill and Barbs just keep correcting me—making me sit up straight and with my legs together. Sitting there like that, I have to say that it is more comfortable with my little balls hidden away, rather than all squished.

I just keep saying, “I can’t believe I’m going to the mall like this—especially on a Friday after school!”

Jill is sitting in back with me and squeezes my bare knee and says, “Relax, girl! We’ve got you covered. Just remember to stand up straight, keep your shoulders back, and your chest out! OMG! Mrs. Alexander, we need to do something about her chest!”

Mom just looks in the mirror and nods with a smile. I can’t help but notice the smirk on Barbs’ face in the mirror—she is sitting up front with Mom.

I groan when Mom parks and it’s time to get out. Jill insists on showing me how to get out in the skirt and I follow her lead, so that I don’t flash anything to the world. The skirts are actually kind of short for a school uniform—I had never paid attention until I had to make sure my panties aren’t visible to the world. Or my legs are freezing in the cold!

We walk into the mall and I have to be careful not to slip out of the shoes. Mom frowns and says, “We need to find you something basic to wear and some shoes that fit before we get serious.” I look at Jill and Barbs. They are wearing jeans and warm sweaters. I am envious of them.

Mom leads us to Macon’s, one of the mall’s anchor department stores. She goes straight to the girl’s junior department—just like she had been here a million times. Of course, no one has any clue what size I need, so Jill just picks up several pairs of jeans and pulls me to the changing rooms. I start to balk about going into the girl’s changing rooms, but Mom hisses in my ear, “Chrissy! Stop acting like a brat! You’re a girl here, remember?”

I sigh and let Jill lead me into the forbidden zone. To my surprise, it is not full of naked girls—it’s just like the boy’s. Jill pushes me into a cubicle and closes the door behind me. She says, “When you think you have the right size come out here in them.”

I sigh and look at the stack of girl’s jeans she had thrust in my arms. They are all ‘low-rise, skinny’ jeans that are highly decorated in girly fashion—from size four to size eight. The first thing I notice is that, like the clothes I have on, these are way softer than my jeans. They are also stretchy. I have seen some of the newer guy’s jeans that have some stretch to them, but they are still nowhere near as soft and stretchy as these.

I sigh and take off the skirt and the stockings, then pull up the pair of size sixes. I figure why not start in the middle? They feel pretty good. Well, for girl’s jeans, I guess. They sit really low on my waist and the zipper is like non-existent. And why even have these ‘pockets’? They also are way too short; they stop a couple of inches above my ankles.

I shrug and open the door. I step out to a waiting Jill and say, “I guess these are OK?”

She shakes her head and says, “Hon, those are way too big! They’re skinny jeans. They’re supposed to be skin-tight! Those are the sixes? Girl! I hate you! Try on the fours while I go grab some twos.”

I come out a little later with the fours on. They’re tighter, but not as tight as she wants. She sends me in with the twos and declares them a fit after I try them on.

She pulls me out onto the main floor and Barbs nods. Mom just looks and says, “Well, they’re the proper size. They’re not my style, but then again, I’m not a teenager. So, you’re a size two? I think I hate you!”

I look at her flustered and Barbs is nodding in agreement.

She hands me a really soft, really warm-feeling, really pink sweater and says, “Take off that blouse and put this on. It’s an extra-small and should fit you fine, since you’re a two!”

I shake my head and go back into the changing room and exchange my blouse—I freak out when I think of it as my blouse. I correct myself. I exchange Jill’s blouse for the sweater. It feels like heaven on my skin. It’s an ugly pale pink, but it feels great!

Jill says, “Grab your uniform and bring it out with you. Leave those on.”

I do as she says and Mom leads me to one of those registers that are sprinkled throughout the store. She smiles at the young girl at the register, “My daughter would like to just wear these out. Is that OK?”

The girl smiles back, “Oh! Totes! Just let me take the tags and scan them.”

She takes the tags off of the jeans and the sweater as I stand there barefoot in the now, even bigger shoes. Mom pays and we move to the shoe department. She says, “Normally, I wouldn’t look for shoes here, but this is an emergency.”

Barbs is looking through a table of clearance shoes and pulls out a pair, “Oh! Look at these cute ballet flats!”

They are similar to the ones she has on, only hers are black and these are a dark pink.

She says, “They’re a size six-and-a-half. Chrissy, see if they fit. They’d be perfect for shopping and they’re a steal at this price—if they fit. They may be too small…”

I sigh and ask, “Don’t I need socks, or something?”

Barbs and Jill giggle. Both point at their own bare feet, clad in similar ‘flats’.

I shrug and step out of the school shoes and slip on the left shoe that Barbs holds out to me. It fits perfectly—as does the right one.

Barbs giggles and says, “Well, it seems you’re a six-and-a-half, narrow! You’re lucky—that’s why you were able to get these! No one else can wear them!”

Mom agrees that they are ‘perfect’ and we exit the store back into the main mall after she pays for them. I am carrying a Macon’s bag with the school uniform and shoes in it. While I am happy to be out of the skirt and to have shoes that are not flopping off my feet, I feel just as weird wearing what I am.

Mom says, “OK, girls. I usually shop from the inside out. How about you?”

Barbs asks, “Is there any other way?”

Jill agrees with a giggle, “VS?”

Mom nods and takes off like a woman on a mission.

It’s weird, really. She makes a beeline for the store, letting nothing stop her progress, but once she gets in, there is no hurry, what-so-ever! Of course, it took all three of them to get me into the forbidden flagship of femininity.

I want to die when she tells the hot girl that comes up to us, “Hi! My daughter here is in need of a fitting for some help disguising the fact that she is a bit behind in her bust development.”

The girl looks at me and says, “Sure! My name’s Chloe—I had the same issue and know just how you feel…?”

I miss the cue and Jill says, “This is my BFF, Chrissy—and this is my other, Barbs. Chrissy is way shy about this, so we came along to support her!”

Chloe giggles, “Well, we have other support here for her, too! Let’s get her measured. Come in back with me, Chrissy, and take off your top. Are you wearing a bra at all, right now?”

She is already walking towards the back, clearly expecting me to follow. Jill gives me a little push and I follow her. When I go through the curtain, she is just standing there—clearly waiting for me to answer; and take off my top.

I say, “No…no bra. I don’t need one…” I sigh and pull off the sweater.

She smiles and says, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hon. Some girls are just late bloomers. Like I said, I’m one. But we have some nice solutions here.”

She has me hold up my arms and takes some measurements, then disappears back out front for a minute. She comes back with a handful of bras—all pink. She says, “You seem to like pink. These are from our ‘Pink’ line, not that everything in that line is!” She giggles and chatters on without seeming to take a breath, “You’re a 22-AAA, at the moment. These are all 22-AAs with cup-enhancers. They all give you the appearance of an extra two cup sizes, putting you at a B. You will still need some small silicone enhancers to make up the difference from AAA to AA, but it gives you some room to grow.”

I understand exactly zero—if not less—of what she is saying.

My mind is numb and I am having crazy thoughts after studying algebra all week. Solve for ‘x’: AAA + AA = xB

She takes one—it is pink like all of them and has a lot of lace on it. She says, “This is one of our most popular push-up enhancement bras. It makes a girl feel really sexy. Here, try it on.”

She pushes the bra into my hand and I just stand there, dumbfounded, staring at it.

After a minute, she exclaims, “Oh, you poor doll! You don’t know how! Duh! No need to be embarrassed. Here let me help. Soon enough, it will be second nature. Here, put your arms through here…”

She holds it up and I numbly put my arms through the holes—what else am I supposed to do? Make some sort of a scene?

She rambles on, “Now, with time, you’ll be able to clasp and unclasp it behind your back. In the beginning, it’s usually easier to clasp it in front and the spin it around and put your arms through the straps. I would suggest practicing unclasping it in back from the beginning, though…”

She has it clasped and is tightening the little buckle-thingies on the straps. She says, “Oh, with a new bra, you also want to clasp it at the very end, then you can tighten it to the inner clasps later, when the elastic starts stretching. I measured it for you to be able to.”

I look around for a universal translator, but, of course, there is none to be had.

She takes these cold blobs—that look like a little like chicken breasts—and inserts them into the cups and says, “There! Perfect! Now put that darling sweater back on and we’ll see how much better you look!”

I am just staring at myself in the mirror—standing there in girls jeans and a bra. I look like a girl standing there in her jeans and bra. I shake my head and take the sweater. I just now notice that it has an hour-glass shape of its own. I had, of course, already noticed the v-neck. But when I put it on and it settles into my new ‘curves’, I totally look like a girl!

‘Jimmy’ is gone—Hello, ‘Chrissy’!

I’m a guy…right?

She lets out a little scream and claps, “Perfect! You look darling! Come on! Let’s go show your Mom and your peeps.”

I feel my face burn red as she leads me back out into the store.

Jill sees me and lets out a little scream. She jumps up and down and claps. My face gets even redder at the attention she is calling to us in the semi-crowded store.

Mom just smiles and nods her head.

Barbs? Well, she comes over and gives me a girly hug—but, maybe with a bit more oomph than normal—and whispers in my ear, “Thanks for doing this, Chrissy. I really do want to get to know, well…you…better. I think we’re going to be the best of friends!”

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

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Part Three
Her whispered encouragement is still ringing in my ears when she plants a soft kiss on my cheek, before pushing back from the hug and winking at me.

I blush.

Then I start shaking like a leaf. I don’t know what does it, but all of a sudden, it really hits me what I am doing.

No, not trying to get a hot girl to be my girlfriend—one that has huge issues with guys. Yes, that’s bad enough.

No, it hits me that I am standing in the mall, on a Friday afternoon, in a Victoria’s Secret, dressed as a girl!

Now, you might think that as a guy, that would be a blessing—otherwise I might be considered a pervert. Being in a VS, I mean.

But, no. It’s no blessing. Trust me.

Barbie notices me turn pale and start shaking. She gives me a concerned look and pulls me towards the back and into a changing room. She sits me down on the little bench and kneels in front of me. “Chrissy, are you OK. Was it what I said? I thought you wanted…”

I shake my head—hard.

I sigh and feel my shaking subside a little. “No! It has nothing to do with what you said—although, I am shocked at it. I just…it just… Well, it just hit me… You know…”

I shrug.

She smiles and pulls me into a hug. Then she pushes back from it and looks me in the eye, “What do you mean you’re shocked?”

I blush, “Well, you’re hot and, well, I’m not and…”

She squeezes my hands and cuts me off, “Stop right there, Chrissy! Let’s take this slowly for all the obvious reasons. You not being ‘hot’…or somehow ‘worthy’ of my attention—or whatever else you’re telling yourself—is not a reason, OK?”

She surprises me with a kiss—on the lips. More of a peck than a real kiss. But, it stops my heart none-the-less.

She says, “Now come on, girlfriend! Let’s get you situated so that we have the opportunity to get me past my…issues. I really do want to get to know you—the real you. It doesn’t matter how you’re dressed, right?”

I sigh and let her pull me back out into the store. Mom gives me a searching look. I know she wants to know if I’m OK, so I just nod. My eyes are downcast and I am still shaking a little, but I think about what Barbie had just said—and the kiss—and I feel really warm in the really soft sweater.

Pink or not.

Mom holds up a handful of bras and another of panties—they seem to match the bras. She says, “While you were talking to Barbie, Jill and I picked out some bras and panty sets. Some are like the one you have on and some are T-shirt bras, but they all will achieve the same effect. Would you like to look at them before I pay for them? Maybe pick out your own?”

I shake my head, no. The sooner I can get out of here, the better!

Mom pays and Chloe puts everything into a large, pink ‘Pink’ bag and hands it to me. I sigh and add it to the Macon’s bag in my hand and we go back out into the mall.

I hoped it would help me breathe—but, no… I am still here as a girl and it is beginning to crush down on me again.

Barbie grabs my hand and squeezes it.

Mom looks at me, concern in her eyes, “Chrissy? Are you OK? Do you want to go home? You have enough to get by—for now. I still had planned on getting you more while we were here, though.”

I shake my head. Mostly to clear out the quickly mounting piles of cobwebs—but, also to let Mom know that I will make it.

Somehow.

Barbie squeezes my hand again and I sigh. “No, Mom, you took off special to do this. It’s just… I mean… I keep waiting for someone to start pointing fingers…or to recognize me. I mean there are kids here from school!”

Mom nods and gets an impish grin. She says in a conspiratorial tone, “And Jimmy had no desire to come to the mall with his Mom and cousin, Chrissy, who has a week off from school and is in town visiting her Aunt. Jill and Barbie were really nice to come along and keep her company.”

I look at Mom as she gives me a sweet smile.

I don’t think I even know her!

Jill giggles and whispers in my ear, “Mommas are always different when it is just the girls!”

I feel another layer of cobwebs descend on my brain. I shake my head and Mom just looks at me. I sigh, “Well, OK, what’s next, I guess? It can’t be worse than…bras. Right?

They all just giggle and I feel the cobwebs in my head start to turn to cotton candy--pink cotton candy. All of this girliness is starting to get to me!

The next hour-and-a-half is one of the strangest times of my young life. I am dragged from girl’s clothing store to the next. ‘We’ just look and look and look.

In case, you didn’t get that, by ‘we’, I mean I stand there like an idiot while the girls—and Mom—hold up dresses and skirts and ‘tops’ and ‘bottoms’ to me. Then I am sent time after time after time again to the changing rooms to try on things.

‘We’ must look at thousands of pieces of clothing. Well, I am sure it is close to that anyway! And I must have tried at least a quarter of them on—no, really!

When Mom declares it is time to look for shoes and ‘other accessories’, I am now carrying five bags. After all of that, I wind up with several ‘leggings’, two more pair of jeans, some other ‘bottoms’, of some sort, a skirt, a dress--every girl needs an LBD, I am told—and several blouses, ‘tops’, more sweaters, and a winter coat. All-in-all, after the effort put into finding these few things (compared to what I tried on), I don’t get it.

Mom and the girls are in heaven, though—and they haven’t bought a thing for themselves!

Mom pulls us into the mall’s mainstream shoe store and it’s a mini repeat of the clothing thing. After half-an-hour of painstakingly scrutinizing every shoe on the racks, I have to try on ten pair. A clerk measures my foot and confirms that I am a (woman’s) six-and-a-half, narrow.

Twenty minutes later, Jill is carrying my bag of shoes—a pair of boots, a pair of sports shoes and appropriate socks, and a pair of three-inch ‘pumps’ to practice in.

Heels? The cotton candy in my head is starting to get all knotted up!

I am beyond numb by this point, though. I sort of let it all happen to me. Once I have ‘the cutest purse—Jill’s words, not mine—that ‘will go with just everything, several belts, and a couple of scarf-thingies, Mom suggests we go unload everything into the car.

“Come on, girls. I’m hungry! Let’s drop this stuff off in the car, then I have one more place I want to take Chrissy before we go eat—is Emerald Wednesday’s OK with everyone?”

Jill and Barbie both nod. I just nod along, not really processing anything, anymore—it’s just easier that way.

On the way out to the car, Jill pulls me aside and says in a low voice, “I’ve been meaning to say something for a while now. You need to walk less like a lumberjack and more like a girl, Chrissy. Being with us in a crowded mall with your hands full of bags has helped, but if you don’t want to stand out, take shorter, quicker steps. Watch your Mom and Barbs. Try and walk more like them.”

I sigh and shrug. I do however watch them walking ahead of us. I don’t see the big deal, but try and take shorter steps, like she says.

I nearly trip over my own feet and Jill giggles, “You’ll get the hang of it. You’re really brave for doing this, you know.”

I roll my eyes and we hurry to catch up to Mom and Barbie. At least I don’t trip this time.

After all the bags are in the car and we are hurrying back into the mall out of the cold. I am wearing my new winter coat—of course it’s pink. It was on sale and my size. At least it’s warm. I also have the small cross-body purse situated over my shoulder—Jill’s doing. It’s empty, but she insists I need to get used to carrying—and keeping up with—it.

We all blow in our hands and Mom says, “We need to look for some gloves or mittens, too!”

I roll my eyes and open and close my fists, trying to get feeling back in my fingers—it is dark and below freezing out, by now.

Mom leads the way again and makes a quick turn into ‘Frostings’—you know that girly-girl store full of trendy jewelry and stuff.

I give her a questioning look and she says, “I was thinking some clip-on earrings and necklace…” Her eyes are already roaming the store.

A cute girl—are they all cute here today—or are they only cute in the girl’s areas? Anyway, a cute girl comes over and asks, “Can I help you find anything?”

Mom nods and says, “I’m looking for some clip-on earrings for my daughter, since she doesn’t have pierced ears.”

The girl says, “We have some on that stand over there. The selection isn’t great, though. We do have a sale going on for piercings, though. It wouldn’t take but a minute to pierce her ears.”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

She must mistake my reaction for fear. Well, in a way, I guess it is!

She gently takes my hand and says, “It really doesn’t hurt, I promise! See I have mine pierced several times—and your girlfriends, too.”

I look at Jill and Barbie and notice she is right. I had never paid any attention, but they both have their ears pierced in multiple places.

Barbie says, “I think that would be a great idea, Chrissy! The options are so much better when your ears are pierced and it doesn’t hurt!”

Jill jumps in, “She’s right, Chrissy!”

I shake my head—stunned.

Mom looks at the girl and says, “Why don’t you let us think about it for a minute, OK?”

She nods, “Oh, sure! I’ll be right over there if you decide to have it done.”

She goes over to her register and Mom pulls me over to the stand of clip-ons. She says, “I really had no intention of bringing you in here to get your ears pierced, Hon. I don’t have anything against you doing it, though—if you want.”

I am shaking my head in a daze. This is all getting to be too much for my cotton-candy-filled brain.

Barbie speaks up and says in a soft voice, “Chrissy, a lot of guys get their ears pierced. I have noticed a whole bunch at school—it wouldn’t be a big deal; even for Jimmy.”

I look up and she seems sincere.

I sigh and shake my head, “I don’t think so. This is all…enough…to come to grips with as it is. There are girls without pierced ears, right? I mean, why else would there be these clip-on thingies?”

Mom giggles and says, “OK. Let’s pick out a couple pair. Just remember that these will actually hurt more than the piercing itself!”

I give her a double-take, but Jill and Barbie are already picking through the available options on the stand. They find a pair of magnetic ‘studs’, a pair of screw-on dangly thingies, and some hoops that I’m sure I don’t want to know how they go on.

I find out, though. Jill puts them on my ears, first thing. They are about an inch in diameter and springy. She gently pries them apart and lets the little flat discs on the ends close down on my earlobe.

“Ouch! That pinches!” I whisper it, but it is none-the-less urgent in tone.

Barbie giggles and says, “Your Momma warned you. It’s not too late to rethink the piercing!”

I shake my head and the hoops moving around on my ears feel funny.

They then pick out this ‘darling’—their word, not mine—necklace with a little heart-shaped pendant on it. Barbie clasps it around my neck and lets it dangle down over my sweater. Mom pays and I breathe a sigh of relief as we leave the store.

I asserted myself. Yes! I have to keep putting my foot down.

I feel a layer of cotton candy disappear from my brain.

When I slide behind the table on the bench at the restaurant fifteen minutes later—safely tucked between Mom and Jill—with Barbie on the other side of Jill—I feel a sense of relief. At least I am more-or-less hidden from view.

I am only a little sad that Barbie still won’t sit next to me—even though she made the effort to comfort me at Victoria’s Secret and was alone with me in back. It seems she still gets nervous knowing when she has time to think about it.

I know the feeling!

Supper goes well—well, as well as a salad can go—until I have to suddenly pee. Three Diet Pepsis will do that to you!

What? I was thirsty!

Now, I know how this works with girls—I do watch movies and things. I am not about to go to the girl’s bathroom—especially not in a pack!

I hold it.

I think my eyeballs are yellow by the time we get home—especially since we had to drop Barbie off at her house, so it takes even longer!

---

“Jimmy,“ I startle at Mom’s yell, “come here, please!”

I finish pulling on my jeans—over the last pair of panties in the three-pack; the pink ones. I just can’t help myself—it’s Saturday. Who’s going to know?”

I take a final look at all the girl’s stuff neatly hung in my closet and shake my head as I close the door. I go into the hall and down the stairs to the laundry room—that’s where I hear Mom busy sorting through clothes.

I poke my head in, “What’s up, Mom?”

She just holds up the green and the yellow panties. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I quickly say, “What? I wore the green ones on Thursday when we studied and the yellow ones last night when we went to the mall.” I mentally congratulate myself for getting out of the situation. I start to turn and hurry to my room to change out of the pink ones before they somehow get dirty, when she says, “Not so fast, mister!”

I inwardly groan.

“There are only six pairs of underwear here—so, either you didn’t wear clean ones one day this past week—or… There is only one right answer, here. Want to try again?”

I feel my face turn red. I shake my head trying to buy time while I come up with something plausible.

“Undo your jeans, Jimmy.”

“Mo...o…..o….ommmm!” I whine.

She gives me the look. I check to see if I put on a red shirt by mistake—blue. I’m safe!

She is still looking at me. I unbutton and unzip my jeans and let them open up.

She smiles and asks, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

I look at her—my eyes out of their sockets. I am sure she is going to grow a second head any minute. This is some alien--not my mother!

“Honey, it’s OK. I understand why you would prefer them over…these.” She holds up my tighty-whiteys. “Do you want me to put these in the donation bag for church?”

I shake my head—really hard.

“So you’re going to stop wearing those comfortable ones and wear these instead? You realize no one will know, right? I certainly don’t care. There is nothing wrong with being comfortable.”

Now I know this is an alien talking to me. “I…I…”

My eyes drop the floor, quickly followed by my head.

Mom just smiles at me and quietly says, “You know where the bag is…”

I pull up my jeans and go to get breakfast. I need some time to think.

Mom comes into the kitchen and doesn’t say another word about the panty issue. She starts unloading the dishwasher and I finish my cereal, then help her finish unloading it. I place my dirty bowl in and she smiles at me, “Thank you, Sweetie.”

I shake my head and say, “I’m sorry, Mom. I just like…the feel.”

She pulls me into a hug, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. We may want to ease your father into the secret, though.”

She winks at me and I blush, “See? It is wrong.”

She makes me sit at the kitchen counter, “Jimmy, it is not wrong, if it is right for you. I think this whole thing is going to be good for you. You can’t let social norms dictate everything you do. I also think you might be surprised how many men wear women’s panties. They are more comfortable.”

I sigh. I look at her and say, “I…I…I’ll put my old ones in the bag.”

She just smiles and nods. She wipes the counter and says, “I am going to Sally’s in a bit. I texted her and she said she has an opening right after me. I think we need to tame that hair a bit if you’re going to be keeping it long after the Christmas Pageant.”

I look at her—once again bug-eyed. I think they are either going to fall out—or stay this way—if they keep popping out like this.

“S…S…Sally’s. That’s a beauty salon!”

Mom nods, “Yes. I know you and your dad still have been using Bob’s. I am surprised that old barber can still stand, let alone cut hair. Anyway, I don’t think Bob would know what to do with your hair, right now—other than take clippers to it and buzzing it down.”

I look down at my light-blonde hair. It is barely touching my shoulder at this point—and kind of a mess.

She says, “You can go as Chrissy, if that would make you feel more comfortable—although, I can tell you that Sally has as many men customers, as women.”

I sigh and say, “I think I had enough ‘Chrissy’ time last night. She won’t make it look ‘girly’, though—will she?”

Mom smiles and says, “Just trust her, Hon. She knows what she is doing.”

I groan and go brush my teeth.

Once we get to the salon, Mom introduces me to Sally—Miss Sally to me—and she hands me a book with a lot of pictures of different styles in it. She says, “Why don’t you look through here and see if there is anything you like while I do your Momma?”

I nod and sigh as I open the book. I leaf through it—it is for ‘medium-length styles’—and notice that there really isn’t a lot of difference in some of the styles between the guys and the girls. There are some that are wild and I wouldn’t dream of having—and they are on the guys!

I don’t pay any attention to the chatter going on between Mom and Miss Sally while I am looking and am surprised when Mom comes over and says it’s my turn. I look at the clock and can’t believe it’s been over half-an-hour!

Miss Sally sits me down in the chair and starts brushing out my hair—like Jill had done. She says, “Hon, you have really beautiful hair. Just like your Momma. You really should take better care of it.” She looks at a small handful and continues, “You have some minor split ends, but we can easily take care of those. I will talk to your Momma about appropriate products when we’re done—not that you really need anything different from her. Now, did you see anything in the book that you like? I understand that you need something versatile?”

I look at her in the mirror, not understanding a word she is saying.

Mom comes over and quietly whispers in my ear, “I told her you need something that will work both for Jimmy and for Chrissy.”

I feel the blood drain from my face and see it rush right back in the brightest of reds when I look in the mirror. I want to die.

Miss Sally says, “Don’t worry, Hon. I do it all the time. We just need a nice androgynous cut—that way you can style it either way. I would suggest a slight shag. Now, do you want bangs?”

Mom says, “Those would look darling.”

Miss Sally says, “If so, I would suggest asymmetrical ones. They are quite popular, again.”

They both look at me. I am still getting over the fact that Mom told her. I just look at them with a deer-in-the-headlights look.

Mom just says, “Sally, go with your best judgement. It’s just hair, right? It will grow again.”

She smiles and leads me, still in shock, to a sink where she washes my hair.

Now, that is a new experience for me, laying back in a chair and having someone else wash it.

She leads me back to the other chair, my wet hair wrapped in a towel like a turban, and starts coming through it after she towels it off some more. I watch in horrified fascination as she clips some up and takes her scissors—and starts cutting.

I notice that what comes off is very small amounts. I start to feel better—she is not taking much off. It will be OK!

Then she takes a straight-edge razor and starts stripping it through my hair. This time more comes off in what seems like random lengths.

I start to get a bad feeling again.

Finally, she combs the hair straight down over my face and makes a ‘window’ in my view—starting high on the right side of my face and ending up low on the left. Suddenly, I have bangs.

I don’t have time to react before she is leading me back to the sink to ‘rinse me out’. She washes my hair again and puts in some sort of conditioner stuff. She is chatting away with Mom—I guess I am too quiet for her. I am too shocked to talk!

When she has rinsed the conditioner stuff out and put something else in that she leaves in, she takes me back to the chair and gets out her blow dryer and big round brush.

At first, she just dries it using her fingers as a ‘comb’. When she is done, she snips something here and something there. Then she steps back and says, “So, Jimmy, this is how it will naturally dry. It’s designed to be neither overtly masculine—or feminine.”

I look at myself—still in shock. I don’t know about overtly anything. I see a tomboy looking back at me.

She takes a spray bottle and wets my hair back down. Then she takes the hairdryer and the round brush and dries it while continuing to turn the ends under with the brush. When she steps back this time, I don’t see a tomboy—I see a girl!

She smiles and says, “But it is versatile enough that it can be styled in a variety of feminine styles. This is the easiest one.”

She then brushes my hair back into a tight ponytail, like Jill had done. The difference now, are the bangs. The longer left side is hanging down over my eye and is annoying.

She says, “You’ll get used to the bangs, but they are long enough to tuck behind your ear.” She demonstrates by pulling the hair behind my left ear. It stays—sort of. She takes out this sparkly clip thing and clips the hair back with it, “Or, you can clip it back like this to keep it out of your eye. These are just a few of the things you can do.”

She turns back to Mom and says, “I’ll put you both down for four weeks from today?”

Mom nods and pays. I reach up and take the clip thing out of my hair and start to take out the hairband thingy that is holding my ponytail in. She says, “Keep the clip, Hon. Here!” She picks up this thing that I think I have heard Jill call a scrunchie and puts it on over the little rubber band. It is pink and ugly. She says, “There! Much better. I’ll see you both in four weeks. Let me know me know if you need anything else.”

She hands Mom a bag of ‘products’ and we go to the car.

“I feel like an idiot, Mom!” I take out the ponytail and my hair falls into the feminine, curled under style. I shake my head and pull it back into a ponytail. Of course, it is sloppy without a brush, but I put it lower and try to salvage as much masculinity as I can.

Mom says, “It’s cute, Hon. You just have to get used to it. We can wet it down when we get home and you can let it dry normally. We just have to make a quick stop at Wally-World on the way home.”

I roll my eyes, “Can I stay in the car?”

She shakes her head, “No, it’s way too cold for that and I’m not going to waste gas to keep it warm. You look fine!”

I shake my head, “I look girly, Mom! You said she wouldn’t do that!”

She sighs as she pulls into the Wally-World parking lot, “Hon, it’s androgynous. By definition, it’s going to look ‘girly’ to you—if you use ‘manly’ as the bar. It would look just as boyish to a girl that is using ‘girly’ as the bar. The thing is, that mop you had wasn’t manly, either. It was just a mess!”

She makes me get out with her and we hurry into the store. At least I don’t have to worry about how I walk, this time!

She goes straight to the makeup section and walks through all the aisles, picking up tubes and pencils and things.

She pays and we go back to the car. As we walk out, she hands me the bag and says, “You can’t keep using Jill’s stuff. It’s just age-appropriate makeup—mascara, eyeliner, and lip gloss. We can expand on that, if you need more—later.”

I roll my eyes, “That’s never going to happen, Mom!”

She just smiles and we get into the car.

I don’t know what to do with that and am quiet the rest of the way home. I have no idea what I am going to do with the rest of the day, but I do know it is going to be ‘Chrissy’-free!

So, I can only groan when we pull into our driveway and Jill comes hurrying over before we can even get out of the car. She lets out a little scream when she sees my hair, “Wow! Nice! Let it down!”

I shake my head, but she just reaches back and pulls the hairband out of my hair. I didn’t have it in really tight, which is a good thing, I guess. My hair falls down into the turned-under, girly style that Miss Sally had left it in.

Jill just hugs me and says, “Great! Chrissy needs to come over. Barbs’s Mom is dropping her off in a few minutes. Greg is with his brutes and they are watching football all weekend. Barbs and I are just going to hang for a while. Get changed into something more comfortable and come over. I can do your makeup when you get there!”

Mom just smiles and says, “That sounds like fun, don’t you think, Chrissy? The girls can show you other hairstyles—and you can practice doing your own makeup, now that you have some.”

Jill looks at me in surprise and then sees the plastic bag in my hand. She peeks in and giggles, “Yes! We’ll have you doing it like a pro before the day is out!”

I sigh. I decide to put my foot down, now! I am going to be Jimmy today! No one is going to stop me!

Right then, Mrs. Greeley pulls into the Holiday’s driveway and Barbie hops out with a bag. She waves and yells over, “Is Chrissy coming?”

I start to put my foot down, I really do.

I say, “I’ll be right over.”

I sure showed them!

I sigh and go to my room. I look at myself in the mirror and shake my head. I can’t do this—not like this.

I wet my hair and towel it vigorously. I comb through it to get the tangles out and go to my closet. I take out a pair of the girl’s jeans—although, they don’t necessarily look like girl’s jeans. I put them on.

I take out a regular sweatshirt. It’s a generic Star Wars one; not cut for a girl—but not masculine in that sense either. I grimace as I realize it’s not as soft as the ones I could put on. I do not even contemplate a bra.

I put on a pair of socks that we got at the mall last night. They are thinner and softer than my normal ones, but I follow them up with the sports shoes we got last night.

I look at myself in the mirror and see a tomboy. I am constantly moving the hair from in front of my left eye. I look more girl than boy—but I finally get what Mom and Miss Sally were talking about when they said my hair is ‘androgynous’. I think I look somewhere in between boy and girl, right now—but more on the girl side.

As a concession to Barbie’s need for me to look girl, I take out the little magnetic ‘studs’, they are cubic zirconia I read on the carboard they are stuck to, and position them on my earlobes. After I get them even, I am a little mesmerized by the sparkle on my ears when I move my head. I shake it again and go downstairs. I say to Mom, “I hope Barbie can accept me like this. It’s the best I can do, for now. This was all going down the rabbit hole way too fast for me.”

Mom hugs me and says, “I think it will be fine, Hon. You certainly look innocent enough—and, while it’s a tomboy, I am seeing, right now—it is just enough to be ‘girl’.”

I nod and hug her, then run across our yards to the Holiday’s front door. I let myself in, like always and find the girls giggling in the kitchen.

They look up at me and surprise flashes on their faces. At least I don’t see fear on Barbie’s face.

I say, “I think we need to talk…”

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

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Part Four
I take off the pink coat that I had thrown on before running over here, simply because it was closest in the closet, and turn around to hang it in the Holiday’s coat closet.

I had not seen fear on Barbie’s face, but she suddenly looked nervous. I think both were disappointed, as well.

I steel my resolve and go back into the kitchen. Both girls are still quietly sitting there—and looking expectantly at me. I sigh and sit down opposite both of them—on the other side of the island. I take a deep breath and let it out, “Look, if you don’t want me here, I get it—I’ll leave. But, only after I’ve had my say.”

They both just sit there, still not uttering a sound.

I forge on, “Barbie, I know you have been through something unimaginably terrible.”

I almost croak out my next words when she suddenly starts tearing up, “And I can only apologize for all the decent guys out there. I consider myself a decent guy and I would never dream of forcing myself onto any girl, but, especially not you.”

She wipes her tears with a shaking hand. She looks like she is going to bolt and Jill reaches around and gives her the hug that I wish I could.

I say, “I can’t be this Barbie Doll, though. I have never had any interest in girl’s clothes before, so yesterday was just too much for my brain to handle. Mom took me to get my hair cut today and it was all I could do to leave the salon looking like I did—I am told this is ‘androgynous’; neither boy, nor girl. It still looks very ‘girl’ to me. This is the best I could bring myself to do. I know it’s not Barbie Doll—more like transvestite, pre-teen Ken, but…”

I shrug and my voice cracks a little, “It’s the best I can do. I just wanted you to know that I am trying…trying my best to meet you in as far into your safe territory as I can safely go.”

They are still just sitting there, Jill’s arms around a trembling Barbie. She is rocking her back and forth and looking at me with a thoughtful look on her face. Barbie’s face is buried in her shoulder. I’m not sure, but Jill may look a little mad.

I sigh and turn around to leave the kitchen. I barely make it back to the hall closet when Jill grabs my shoulders from behind and spins me around. She looks me square in the eye and I cringe as she says, “James Christine Alexander, don’t you just walk away! You had your say, now you get to hear us out. That’s how friendships work—especially among girls. Now get your tail back in the kitchen and give Barbs a chance to compose herself!”

Did I mention that I’m afraid my eyes are going to get stuck in ‘bug-out’ mode, one of these times?

She surprises me, though, when her eyes soften and she takes a hand and gently says, “Come back in, please?”

I nod and let her lead me back into the kitchen. I sit back on my stool and Jill takes one on the end—between Barbie and me. The island is still between Barbie and me and she still looks shaken up.

I feel all kinds of terrible. I had no intentions of dredging up her nightmarish memories, but my emotions have gotten the best of me since my brain was choked up with cotton candy last night.

I sit there, my eyes downcast.

Jill takes my right hand in her left. She, then takes Barbie’s left hand in her right. She squeezes both our hands lightly, then tugs on our arms and place Barbie’s and my hands together.

She looks at Barbie and says, “Barbs, I think it’s your turn.” She looks at me and her look says it all. ”Shut up and listen.”

Barbie takes a quivering breath and looks at me. She is not pulling her hand back, so that must be a good sign, right?

She surprises me when she reaches her other hand over the island in a clear invitation for me to take hold of it. I do and she gently squeezes both hands in a heartwarming way.

She sighs and says, “Look, Chrissy? Should I even call you that?”

I simply nod.

She smiles wanly and continues, “OK, Chrissy. You don’t know how much I appreciate what you have done for me the past couple of days—especially last night. I have something good to talk to my shrink about this week!”

She giggles at the look on my face. I, of course, am wondering just what she intends to tell her shrink?

She continues, “Don’t worry—it’s all confidential!”

I feel my heart sink, but she just squeezes my hands. I am not sure, but I feel comforted. I don’t think I will ever understand girls!

She looks me in the eye and says, “Chrissy, I have to work on this. It’s on me, not you. The way you are is just girl enough that I’m not running from this room—one that is not under direct supervision of an adult woman—in a neurotic, terrified, screeching frenzy. It is pushing the limits, though.”

She laughs self-depreciatingly and lets go of one hand to wipe her eyes, “Can you imagine being scared of even tomboys? I’m a real mess!”

She lets go of my other hand and leans back, fanning her eyes. There are long black streams running down from them. I look over and see the same on Jill’s face.

I shake my head, not sure if it’s my turn to say anything. Even if it is, I have no idea what to say.

I’m saved from my internal controversy, though, when Jill takes my hands this time. She looks at me and I have to force myself not to focus on her eyes—she looks like a raccoon! I have the sudden urge to call her ‘Rocket’ after her last outburst.

She smiles gently at me and asks, “Chrissy. No, Jimmy. Why didn’t you tell us we were going too far? We’ve been best friends for far too long! I…got caught up in the moment of picturing you in my ‘posse’ as you call it—of you fitting into my whole circle of friends. It was selfish and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to torture you!”

I sigh. I look at her and it’s clear that it’s my turn again, now.

I take a deep breath and let it out. I look at Barbie. She’s finally calming down. I reach out my left hand—across the island—and she hesitantly takes it. I reach out my right hand and take Jill’s.

I have no idea why. It just felt right. So, sue me!

I say, “There’s no need for either of you to apologize. I let you. I could have stopped it at any time. I was scared of losing my best—my only—friend if I didn’t go along, though. Jill, you have no idea what it’s like to be a loner, since you have such an active social life.”

She starts to say something and I give her the same look she gave me earlier. “My turn.”

“I don’t blame you or hold it against you in any way. I envy you. I also was afraid of coming between you and Barbie, who needs good friends, right now. But, mostly—I was being selfish. I just wanted to keep my one friend and hopefully make another. Either way, I let myself get pulled under water so quickly, I didn’t realize I was drowning until my lungs were already full of water.”

I let go of their hands and sort of slump back in my stool.

Jill speaks up, “I can’t believe you’d even think that! We will always be best friends. I just know that you’d be really uncomfortable with my ‘social life’, as you call it. Without the proper reference, that is. And you’d never come between me and Barbs—even if… I mean, we’d work it out. You and I have too much history to just throw it away like that, OK?”

I quietly nod.

Barbie speaks up now, “Chrissy, what did you mean by ‘before’?”

I look at her, confused.

She says, “I have an eidetic memory—perfect recall. It’s one of my…problems.” She takes a shaky breath and composes herself before going on, “I can remember every aspect in excruciating detail. Anyway, you said, “I have never had any interest in girl’s clothes before, so yesterday was just too much for my brain to handle.” What did you mean by before?”

I blush and try and think of a way out of my blunder.

Jill says, “You like it, don’t you? Your blush is worth a thousand words!”

I shake my head and look at both of them. “You have to promise not to tell! I…ummm…I ….wore a pair of the panties to school yesterday. Mom…caught me wearing another pair this morning…”

My face is red enough, it has to be coloring my shirt red—close enough to die, I’m sure.

Jill and Barbie are looking at each other, confused. Barbie finally asks, “So?”

OK, now I am sure my eyes are in permanent bug-out mode.

“So? I just told you I wore panties—as in girl’s underwear to school. And all you say is, “So?”?!?! I’m a pervert! If you tell anyone, I’m dead!”

I want to really die when they both start giggling!

Jill looks at me with a huge smile, but says in a serious tone, “Chrissy…Jimmy…whoever! We get it! Who wouldn’t pick girl’s panties over guy’s itchy, scratch, course, uncomfortable underwear? It’s a no-brainer—If you’re brave enough to do it. Is that all?”

I check my lap to make sure my eyes aren’t in it.

Finally, I shrug and don’t say anything else. Pleading the fifth seems the best course, right now. Besides, I don’t know the answer to her question. Not really. I contemplate the jeans I’m wearing and can’t deny they are much more comfortable than my normal ones. I think about the sweatshirt I have on—my warmest and softest one. It’s like sandpaper compared to the sweater I had on last night at the mall.

Do I like the feel of girl’s clothes? Heck yeah! Does that mean I want to wear them? No! I am a guy, dammit!

Jill doesn’t let it drop, “So, you’re going to let all those clothes your Momma bought you just go to waste? Return them? What?”

I just sit there with a blank stare.

She continues, “Chrissy! Sit up straight and get those knees together! You’re such a tomboy, I swear!”

I turn red and sit up straight and pull my knees together. Of course, I didn’t tuck and it’s not as comfortable as it could be.

Jill looks at Barbie and asks, “What were his words, Hon? Something about ‘safe territory’ and ‘going there’?”

Barbie parrots back my words without even thinking, “I am trying my best to meet you in as far into your safe territory as I can safely go.”

I can see how that ability could be immensely useful—but, in her case, also immensely damning.

Jill looks back at me and says, “That’s better!”

I assume she is referring to my posture.

She continues, “Well, Chrissy, now is your chance to go ‘where no man has gone before’. Technically, I know that’s not an accurate statement, but fitting none-the-less.”

Barbie is giggling.

I sit there stunned and all I can think of is another quote, albeit one never actually spoken in the series, “Beam me up, Scotty!”

I sigh, “What are you saying, Jill?”

She smiles and says, “Nothing, really. I am just asking questions—that’s what girlfriends do. Explore each other’s emotions and feelings. How does it make you feel to wear the panties? Do you really feel like a pervert?”

I blush again, “No… They just feel…good.”

“OK, then,” she pushes on. “How about the other things? If you didn’t have to worry about what other people thought, would you discount wearing them?”

I shake my head, “But, I do have to worry about what people think!”

Barbie gently asks, “Why?”

I look at her. What she has in terms of memory power, she obviously makes up for with lack of common sense! “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

She shrugs, “I mean just that. Why? Chrissy, right now you look like a tomboy and you didn’t make a huge effort to look like a girl. If you take off those obviously girly ‘studs’ and change your shoes to your ‘normal’ ones, you would be seen as a boy by most girls. I would certainly be shaking in my pants. My point is that it’s up to you how you’re perceived.”

I shake my head, confused.

Jill says, “Just think about it. Right now, Barbs and I have to fix our makeup. Do you still want to learn how to do yours?”

I hesitate—on the fence. I mean I am so conflicted right now. I want to do this—for Barbie—but…

Barbie quietly says, “Please? It would be a little more comfortable for me to see you that way. It’s not like anyone is going to see you that way—but us.”

She smiles, her lips trembling a bit.

Any resolve I have to resist melts and I sigh.

I nod and Jill comes over and gives me one of her girly-hugs. There is no over-stated excitement or feeling of pressure—only…heartfelt thanks.

---

Mom looks at me with a concerned look when I come through the front door after only a little over half-an-hour. She asks, “Honey, is everything OK?”

I give her an unsure nod, “I think so, Mom. I’m…just getting that makeup you bought. I left it here earlier.”

She looks at me hard, then smiles, “OK, so I take it Chrissy is still going to be around a while and I don’t need to dig the receipts out of the box of stuff to be shredded?”

I sigh, “I…guess. I mean you went to all of that trouble and…”

She comes over and gives me a hug. Still hugging me, my face buried in her…chest…, she says, “Honey, I just want you to be happy. I don’t have any illusions that you want to be my daughter, but I also don’t care if you find that you like to dress in girl’s clothes. I know you would have probably never considered it before this, but sometimes things can’t be put back into Pandora’s box, once they are out.”

I sigh and nod into her…chest. She pushes me back and looks into my eyes, “Now, go learn to do your makeup properly. If you’re going to be wearing it around here, I won’t have it done sloppily! Got that, young lady?”

She gives me that impish grin from the mall and I know that she is—half—kidding and I salute her, “Yes, Ma’am!”

She squeezes me in another hug and I go up the stairs to my room.

I find the Wally-World bag on my desk, right where I had thrown it before I left in a confused huff. I am still confused, but at least not in a huff, anymore.

I look at my dresser and open the drawer that Mom had helped my put my new…underwear…away in last night. I take out my tighty-whiteys and put them in the donations bag, along with the neatly folded stack that Mom had put on my bed from the laundry.

I feel better, somehow. Right or wrong—it’s a decision. It feels right, though. Yes, I’m a guy—a guy that likes to wear women’s panties.

So, sue me!

I start to close the drawer. I think in a million years I won’t be able to tell you what makes me do it, but I take out a matching pair of panties and bra. I slowly close the drawer. I don’t slam it in a hurry. I deliberately give myself time to change my mind. For some reason, I don’t.

I go to my bathroom and take off my jeans. I take off my pink panties and sigh. Mom had just done the laundry and here I am making more. I guess I need to learn how to help her with it if I am going to be changing clothes a lot…

I tuck my little package and pull the lacy panties up tight to my crotch. I have not tried any of them, yet, and they sort of tickle. The lace feels funny—not as nice as the ones without, but are still tons better than the stuff I had just put in the donations bag.

I am still not sure why I need lacy ones, though. I’m going to have to talk to Mom about that—later.

I do as Chloe had instructed and wrap the bra around me from the back and latch it in front of me. I fumble a little because I’m nervous. I still hear voices in my head calling me a pervert. The thing is, I’m not getting any arousal out of it. I’m not doing this for those reasons.

When I get the little hooks into the last clasps, I spin the bra around and put my arms through the straps. It doesn’t fit like the other one for some reason. I shrug and put the little silicone thingies in, breast forms, Chloe had called them. I feel my nipples harden as the cold, jiggly things settle up against them.

The bra is still not right. Then I remember that Chloe had messed with the straps. I sigh and go to my door. I crack it open and call out, “Mom? Can you help me a minute?”

She yells out, “Just a sec, Hon!” I hear her coming up the stairs and step back.

She comes in and sees me standing there in just a bra and panties—well, and girly socks—and smiles. She doesn’t make a fuss or a scene, just asks, “What is it, Hon?”

I say, “I don’t know. Chloe did something with the straps on the other bra…”

She nods and comes over behind me. She pulls on the straps and then adjusts the little buckles, tightening them up. She says, “It’s a bit of a balancing act. Does that feel too tight?”

I shrug, “It all feels too tight.”

She actually giggles and says, “This feels about right. You’ll get used to the tightness. It’s another paradox women deal with—it’s comforting, but restrictive at the same time. A well-fitting bra shouldn’t be uncomfortable, though—even after hours of wear.”

I just shake my head, “TMI, Mom! Maybe I should take it back off. It was a dumb idea, anyways.”

She sits down on the bed and pats it next to her. I sit down and she puts her arm around me and squeezes. I don’t think I’ve been hugged as much my whole life as I have in the last few days.

It’s weird—I…kind of like it.

She says, “Do what you think is best, Hon. I certainly had no intention of putting any kind of pressure on you yesterday. I guess I kind of got carried away. But, I thought it’s what you wanted.”

I shake my head and put it on her shoulder, “No. That’s pretty much the same thing Jill and Barbie said. I could have stopped it. I don’t blame you, at all, Mom. I am just confused. I want to help Barbie. She’s really messed up! Did you know she has perfect recall?”

Mom gasps, “That poor darling!”

I nod on her shoulder. “I just can’t get over the feeling that this is somehow…wrong…”

She squeezes me and reiterates, “Like I said, Love. It’s only wrong if it’s wrong for you. Don’t worry about others. If you want to know what I think, Pandora has cracked open her box. It’s up to you to slam it closed, or see what comes out.”

I nod, “Thanks, Mom. I guess I need to get back over there. They probably think I have decided not to come back.”

She squeezes me again and leaves me to finish dressing.

I put the jeans back on, then I put one of the soft, warm, form-fitting sweaters on. I look in the mirror and sigh. Jimmy is nowhere to be seen—even without makeup or hair in ‘girl’ mode—at least in my mind.

I put the sports shoes back on and pull the pink coat on over the sweater. It feels completely different than before—and not just because of the bra.

I grab the Wally-World bag and hurry down the stairs. I hug Mom and she just smiles in an encouraging way. As I open the front door to leave, she says, “Bye, Chrissy. Let me know if you need me, OK?”

I look back and smile at her. I nod and close the door before running back across the yards—marveling at the weird bouncy feeling on my chest. I also have to run, well, funny, because the…bumps…are in the way of my arms.

---

When Jill and Barbie see me this time, they just smile. No word is said, other than, “Hi, Chrissy!”

I am given a tight hug by both girls and it feels funny to have their…chest…squeeze up against…mine.

I am surprised that their faces are flawless again, in just the time it took me to…change. Of course, I was gone nearly half-an-hour, I guess.

I hand the Wally-World bag to Jill and hang up my coat in the hall closet for the second time today. It feels distinctly different this time, though. Jill is looking through the bag and giggles, “Your Momma got you the awesome mascara! Every girl wants it, right now. This is really good eyeliner, too—great for beginners.”

Barbie is looking in the bag, too, and nodding.

I shrug. I wouldn’t have a clue about the stuff if it is was tattooed on my forehead. What? The clue, not the makeup! Duh!

Jill reaches out a hand and I take it. She leads me to her room and to her vanity. I still feel weird being in here—especially with two girls. But, I know Mrs. Holiday is just downstairs, so I also know it’s not ‘forbidden’—at least not as ‘Chrissy’.

Barbie pops open the packages and takes out the makeup. Jill looks at me and seems to be looking for some courage to ask me something. Suddenly, I’m worried.

Finally, I just ask, “What is it?”

She giggles and says, “You do know me too well! I was wondering if you would let me…fix your eyebrows? They are not terrible, but a little tidying up would make them look so much better!”

I start to just say no, then look at both of them. Neither have McMac’s arches—those aren’t ‘in’ anymore, I guess. They are definitely girly, though. Shaped and tapered. I look at mine in the mirror. They are light, like my hair—and not all that visible, anyway.

I ask, “What do you mean by ‘tidy up’? I don’t want girly eyebrows to push this hair anymore into ‘girl’ territory.”

I decide to see what she has planned before shutting Pandora’s box on this.

She smiles. I guess she expected me to just shut it down, right off.

She shows me some stray hairs, here and there and says, “I would clean those up and take, at most, a row out from the bottom. Later, if you want, we can shape them a bit. Guys do it, too—I promise.”

I sigh and say, “OK, Jill. I trust you.”

She gives me a smile and quick squeeze. Again, it seems like she is genuine and not just excited to girly me up, like I had gotten the impression last night. Thinking back, I can see how there were misinterpretations and misunderstandings abound last night.

I flinch as she plucks the first eyebrow. I wasn’t expecting it and sneeze. They both giggle and I give them a cross look.

Jill just smirks and shrugs—and pulls another.

After a few minutes, I can see what she was talking about. It looks much less…messy. It also goes better with my now-groomed hair.

She says, “Taking out the bottom row opens your eyes up more. I would prefer to take out some more and taper them, but I know you’re not ready for that. We can take it slow…”

I give her another cross look. She finishes her sentence, “…or not at all. This is tons better, already!”

Barbie just genuinely says, “O!M!G! Yes!”

Jill then looks at me and asks, “Ready to learn how to make those pretty blue eyes pop?”

I sigh and say, “Ready as ever, I guess.”

Over the next hour, Jill shows me how to ‘tightline’ my eyes with liner, then how to apply the mascara—which is this mega-lengthening stuff with a super-special wand. When she is done, she wipes it all off with this special disposable cloth—one like Mom had me use in her bathroom the last two nights—and hands me the stuff to do it myself. After the third time, I do an adequate job. I don’t poke my eye—well, hard anyway—and I don’t paint my eyelid black.

Barbie smiles and says, “Nice job, Chrissy. Now, wipe it off and let me show another look…”

I look at her and she’s just smiling. I get the feeling this is ‘normal’ for ‘girls’—like the shopping deal—and shrug. I wipe it off, again.

She takes the eyeliner and tightlines my eyes like before—only she is much faster than me and it is perfect. She says, “Now, this is called a ‘flick’ and is really popular, right now. Taylor Quick has a lot to do with that.”

She takes the pencil and draws these…wings…out from my eyes. I don’t know a better way to describe them—although ‘flick’ does make sense. She then puts three heavy coats of mascara on my lashes and says, “This isn’t a look you wear to school, by any means…”

I give her a look and she smiles, “It is how you start more of a weekend or evening look. A little eyeshadow and you would be gorgeous. Not that you aren’t now!”

I blush and look at myself in the mirror. I see why she said what she did about Taylor Quick. With my blond hair and my eyes like this, I looked a little like her. It shocks me.

Jill hands me the tube of lip gloss from the bag and says, “It’s not rocket science putting this on…”

I shake my head, still staring at myself in the mirror and open the tube. I use the little sponge-tipped wand to apply a heavy coat of the sticky, strawberry-flavored, pinkish goop to my lips. Just like she had shown me before.

Suddenly, I seem even more like Taylor Quick. I also know what Barbie meant by the eyeshadow when I picture the ‘complete’ look that TQ usually sports.

I shudder.

Barbie looks at me in concern, “Are you OK, Chrissy?”

I sigh and nod, “Just a random thought. So, what now?”

Barbie giggles and Jill says, “Well, Barbs and I are giving each other a mani-pedi. You get to watch, unless…?”

I shake my head with a smile. “Go ahead. This should be…interesting.”

I am not all that interested in the mechanics of what they are getting ready to do—there has been this subtle…shift…in our interactions, since our ‘talk’. It’s more…intimate…is not the word. But it is somehow closer, more personal—even more so than Jill and I have been over the years. Almost more like before we were…banned…from each other’s rooms. I want some time to explore that more.

I shake my head and they start working on each other’s nails. In short order, I find myself fascinated, in spite of myself. They pull me further into their snare when they ask me my opinion on things, like length and colors. I give it to them, but, of course, it’s Jimmy’s opinion and they just give me good-natured gagging sounds and proceed to educate me on how it should properly be done.

I guess dark red, inch-long nails aren’t proper. So, sue me! I am a guy, after all!

Of course, they do wear me down and I let them do my fingernails—just file them, use their nasty stuff to ‘clean up’ my cuticles, and buff them. I put a stop to polish, though!

Until…they do my toes. I don’t have a good argument to stop them when they ‘remind’ me that no one would know that my toes were painted anymore than they would know I had panties on.

It doesn’t matter that I wear panties for an entirely different reason. They gently push me to accept the white color on them—just to experience the feel.

I have to admit that it does feel different when I pull my socks back on and my nails just glide in, rather than get hung on the material. When I think about wearing this to school for the next two weeks—they tell me that’s how long it will last, since it was cured with this little UV-light-thingy—‘pervert’ doesn’t come to mind, at all. I just feel…naughty.

I sigh and tie my shoes before putting on my coat. I have been over here for over four hours and it’s time to get home for supper—it feels like it’s only been a few minutes. I smile and wave to Mrs. Greeley as she pulls into the Holiday’s drive on my way out the door.

When I go in our front door, Mom calls from the kitchen, “Is that you, Hon? Supper’s ready! Wash up!”

I hang up my coat and peek in the kitchen. Mom is putting a roast on the table and Dad gives me a double-take when he sees me. He had missed the post-mall look and hasn’t seen my hair, in any instance. He shakes his head as I ask, “Do I have time to change?”

Mom looks at me and smiles, “If it’s OK with you, we would love to have supper with Chrissy. Isn’t that right, George? It would be a shame to waste that beautiful makeup!”

I blush and say, “Ummm…OK… If you’re sure…?”

Mom just winks and shoos me towards the little bathroom to wash my hands.

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

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Part Five
I check myself in the mirror, again–it’s at least the fifth time. I can’t see any signs of the panties. I am wearing a pair of the VS ones—in all their pink and lacy glory. If anyone catches me wearing them at school today—well, outside of Jill or Barbie, I guess—I’m dead meat.

I had talked to Mom about the lace yesterday and she explained to me that girls wear it under their clothes to ‘feel pretty’—and a little naughty, knowing they have a secret.

Now, I have no desire to feel ‘pretty’—I don’t even really want to feel naughty. But when I had gotten out of bed and my stark-white, very shiny toenails planted themselves on the floor… Well, I was already feeling naughty about that. I decide to go for broke.

I check once more and still don’t see anything.

The reason I am so paranoid is the rest of the discussion I had had with Mom. It had been a ‘Chrissy’-free day, since Jill was out with Greg all day and Barbie had to be home for ‘family day’. That was just fine with me, let me tell you!

Well, it was Chrissy-free—except for that ‘discussion’ I had with Mom. It lasted over an hour as she explained some things to me—things she would have told me if I had been her daughter—and, no, before you even start—I’m not!

Yes, it felt good to just be me. But I did complain to Mom as we were talking about how itchy my shirts now felt to me—even the ‘soft’ sweatshirts.

That is when she let me in on the secret of ‘camisoles’—basically girl’s undershirts. I hadn’t even realized that I have several that were included in the ‘mall purchases’. Her warning, though, was clearly etched into my brain, “If your outer shirt is too thin, the camisole will be visible—either the color through the shirt, which is sometimes desired for a sexy look, or, at a minimum the straps can be seen—especially by girls that know what they are seeing.”

I don’t have a camisole on—not that I didn’t think about it when I put this itchy shirt on—but it just has me paranoid about the panties now, too.

I bend over and squat—nothing. I sigh. Well, I guess there is something to be said about them being cut so low on my waist. The lace still tickles, though. Of course, being cut the way they are, I have no choice but to tuck my package up and out of the way—nothing you can notice in these pants, but I do wonder how I will get along all day this way. Especially on the hard school chairs.

I notice my face—it’s, well, sort of…glowing… I guess that has to do with the fact that I have washed it a thousand times over the weekend. Oh, and Mom has insisted that I keep using her creams and potions…err…lotions if I am going to keep on using the makeup. There is also something called ‘serum’. I have to use different stuff in the morning than in the evening—I even had to use it all yesterday; no matter that I didn’t use any makeup. It seems that skincare is important.

Huh! Who knew? I’m just a guy. No, really!

I look at my hair next and sigh. I washed it this morning and used the products that Miss Sally gave me. It has never been so…light and feathery—it almost floats. It has also never been so shiny. Mom has insisted that I start taking care of it—including brushing it out at night.

I blow at the bangs over my left eye and know they are going to drive me crazy all day long.

I check my eyebrows again and they look…normal. Mom had noticed the difference, but Dad was clueless, so that is encouraging.

Mom calls up, “Jimmy, come on, Love—you’ll miss the bus! Breakfast is ready!”

I go down and give Mom a hug. It surprises her as much as me! “Well good morning to you, too, Hon! Your oatmeal is ready. Hurry up! The bus will be here in twenty minutes.”

I start downing my oatmeal to Mom’s dismay, “Jimmy! Slow down! We talked about smaller bites!”

I groan. How am I supposed to ‘hurry’ and ‘take smaller bites’? I do as she says and am surprised that it only takes me a couple minutes more to eat it—and I feel fuller.

I run upstairs and brush my teeth with minutes to spare. I hug Mom again and grab my books, then almost grab the pink coat on my way out the door.

That would have been a disaster!

Jill is already waiting at the bus stop and whispers, “Morning, Chrissy!”

I blush and look around. We’re alone. I give her a cross look, but don’t have time to say anything, since the bus pulls up, right then.

She goes to her ‘peeps’ and I sit in my usual spot.

And so, another boring week at school begins.

---

I get on the bus at the end of the day and let out a sigh. It was blissfully boring in that no one pointed any fingers at me and yelled, “Pervert!”

No one said anything about my hair—even if they did notice. I thought I caught some of Jill’s posse looking my way a time or two at lunch—but I tell myself I’m just being paranoid.

I was conscious of my panties all day long. If I move just right, I can feel the lace tickle my inner thigh under my baggy boy’s uniform pants. I am happy to say that being tucked didn’t cause me any real issues, either—other than I had to go into a stall to pee, so that I could ‘re-tuck’. It is awkward trying to do that standing in the stall, though.

No, I did not sit to pee! I am a guy! No, really!

I wiggle my toes inside my shoes and feel my smooth nails rub up against my itchy boy socks and sigh.

That gets me wondering if…

I shake my head to clear it and smile at Jill and Barbie as they walk past me on the bus with a wink. Our new study routine is to begin today. I will change as soon as I get home—so will Jill and Barbie at Jill’s. Today, study group is at our house, though.

We all get off at our stop and I hurry inside. It doesn’t take me long to get out of the uniform and stand there in only the lacy panties. I shrug at the flat front staring back at me in the mirror, grab a bra out of my drawer, and put it on. Mom had adjusted all the straps for me during our ‘conversation’, yesterday, so it fit perfectly—and I was a little faster getting it on.

No, that’s not something I’m proud of—I am just stating a fact. No, really!

I put in the breast forms—I don’t even notice that I know refer to them as ‘breast forms’ in my mind—and shiver as my nipples stiffen. I’m going to have to learn to warm them up before putting them in!

I put on a pair of the leggings. Mom had explained those to me, as well—that they are supposed to be skin-tight and a little short. These are the winter version, I guess—at least according to her—since, they have a fleece lining and feel luxuriously soft and warm.

I take out a long-sleeved t-shirt—form-fitting for my enhanced…chest…and pull it on. I shake my head again at how much I now look like a girl.

I put the pink flats on my bare feet and go to my bathroom, where there is more light—and a mirror. I go through the motions of applying the makeup in my mind that Jill had drilled into me. I take a deep breath—and the plunge. Ten minutes and only one mistake later, I figure it is as good as it’s going to get.

I brush my hair back into a tight ponytail—something that Mom had made me practice yesterday, and wrap the special little rubber hairband around it, pulling it even tighter. Of course, I put it up high, since I’m in ‘Chrissy’ mode and I’m told that’s where it’s ‘supposed’ to be. I use the little clip that Miss Sally gave me and sigh in relief when I banish the stupid bangs out of my eye.

I had gotten to the point during the day that I didn’t notice them as much--just like Miss Sally said I would—and I only tucked them behind my ear ten times a minute instead of twenty; but they were annoying me now, again.

---

I’m in the kitchen laying out my stuff when Jill and Barbie come in the front door. They take off their coats, hang them in the closet, and give me a big girly-hug before starting to take out their own stuff.

We study for an hour-and-a-half and easily finish our homework in that time. Mom comes in about thirty minutes before we’re done and asks, “Would you girls like Chinese takeout? Mr. Alexander has to work late and I don’t feel like cooking. Barbie, I’ve already cleared it with your Momma to stay, if you want. Jill has a standing invitation, as always.”

I nod and say, “That sounds fine to me, Mom.”

I notice Barbie give me a strange look, then refocus on Mom and say, “That would be lovely, Mrs. Alexander.” Jill also agrees and Mom pulls out the menu. We all pick out something—with the plan of sharing.

When she goes to place the order and we’re putting our stuff away, I look at Barbie and ask, “Why did you give me that look a bit ago?”

She shakes her head and mumbles, “It’s nothing,…Chrissy.”

I shake my head and give her a bit of a glare, “Spill! What did I do?”

She sighs and says, “Girls usually don’t call their mothers, ‘Mom’. Sometimes it’s, ‘Mother’, more often it’s, ‘Mama’, ‘Momma’, ‘Mumma’, or even ‘Mummy’. I just get so used to seeing you as Chrissy and then you do something that…jars me. It’s nothing, though. I’m not criticizing you—not for that. Now, if you don’t sit up straight, keep your legs together, and eat in a civilized manner, you’re in trouble!”

She giggles—Jill right along with her. Mom comes in right than and looks at us, “What’s so funny, girls?”

I sigh and say, “Nothing…Mummy!”

Now, that gets me a look, let me tell you! But Jill and Barbie just giggle. Mom rolls her eyes and shakes her head, “Girls!” She looks at me and says, “Chrissy, can you get things set up while I go get the takeout? Who wants to come with me?”

I nod and Barbie says, “I’ll come help, Mrs. Alexander.”

Jill says, “I can stay and help Chrissy—unless you need me Mrs. A.?”

I give Jill a funny look. Setting the table is not rocket science. Mom doesn’t seem to catch on to anything and just says, “Thanks, Hon. Sounds good—I have the TT today, anyway and there isn’t much room. Come along then, Barbie, I hate cold rice!”

Once they have both left for the garage, I start pulling out plates and setting the island. Jill starts grabbing silverware and grabs my hand when I set down the last plate, “Are you OK, Jimmy? I mean, really? I know you want a chance with Barbs—but I…could tell you had lacy panties on today by the way you were squirming. You were tucked, too—weren’t you?”

I sigh and nod—very pale, “Yeah. You mean you could see the panties?” The terror is clear in my voice.

She shakes her head, “No, like I said, if I didn’t know things, I would have never guessed. But, knowing things let me process your squirming and…errr…lack of anything up front…for what it was.”

I sigh again and help finish laying out the silverware and the napkins. “I don’t really know why I put on those panties. I mean, if I’m going to wear them—and now I have to, since Dad made me drop of the full donation bag at church yesterday and my old undies are in it—I knew I was going to have to at some point. Wearing them forces me to…tuck.” I blush and she smiles.

She nods, “OK. I just want to make sure my oldest and bestest friend is OK.”

I wiggle my shoulders and say, “I will be, as soon as I get out of this bra!”

She giggles and says, “Hey! Now you know what it’s like for us real girls!”

I shake my head, “It’s not that, Jill. I am only wearing this for Barbie’s sake. It’s not the same as with the panties—there isn’t any need for me to wear a bra like there is for panties…of some sort.”

She nods and says, “Well, you will get used to it. But I doubt she would notice—or care—if you take it off.”

I sigh and hear them already pulling into the garage. The restaurant is only about three minutes away. I say, “I’ll think about that for another study day. I wasn’t really expecting to have to wear it this long.” I turn red, “Not that I’m not happy to have you over for dinner!”

She gives me a razzberry and Mom and Barbie come in with the food.

---

The rest of the week goes about the same—without the meals every night. A couple of days, I wear the ‘original’ panties and don’t have to tuck—I notice on the days that I do, though, that I am more prone to keep my legs together and sit up straighter in school. First, there is ‘nothing there’ to ‘get in the way’ of holding them closer together. Second, as the week goes on and I do tuck after school, I am just getting used to sitting that way because of the constant reminders from Jill. Barbie never says a word and I know Jill is only doing it to ensure that I don’t trigger something within her.

Being a loner in school—an invisible one, at that—has certain advantages when you’re doing something like this. No one says a word about my hair all week. Well, if you don’t count Sara Gibson—one of Jill’s posse—who just says it looks nice in a walk-by at lunch one day. I am stunned when she does and see Jill wink at me from her table.

I shrug it off and go back to my Spidey graphic novel.

I take great pains not to squirm or otherwise act funny because of the panties, though. Jill’s warning stays in the front of my mind—not that she meant it as a warning. I certainly take it as one, though—invisible, or not.

As for the bra… I don’t wear it a couple of days and Jill is right. Barbie either doesn’t notice—or doesn’t care. I guess being flat-chested is only an issue when you’re out and can be seen? It’s not a question I feel comfortable asking—not even Mom, so I let it drop. I decide to occasionally wear one—just to get more used to it for whatever reason—but it doesn’t become a part of my daily after-school routine.

Speaking of routine—by the end of the week, I am able to put the makeup on pretty fast and without major mistakes.

No, I am still not proud of that! Well, maybe a little—but only because I worked hard at it. I’m still a guy! No, really!

The problem is—as the week goes on—I find my face looking, well…plain when I’m not wearing it. I find that when I go into the bathroom and see myself in the mirror, I am more prone to being shocked when I’m not wearing than when I am.

Now, that bothers me a bit. Well, that and the fact that I am now wearing panties full-time. I am still convinced that’s not normal.

As for the whole reason for this? Well, studying is going great! All three of us are getting straight A’s.

What? Oh…yeah… Barbie and I. Well, to be honest, I don’t know. She is treating me like one of the girls, which, on the one hand is good, I guess. But…

Jill just tells me to give it time—that she can guarantee me that ‘Barbs is interested—but just needs some more time’.

---

When Saturday rolls around and they want me to ‘Chrissy’ up and go to the mall with them, I am genuinely thankful to have an actual, valid excuse. I text back in the group-text, Sorry, the Christmas Pageant is in two weeks and we have rehearsal today.

I get back a variety of sad emojis and text back, See you guys on Monday.

Now, I don’t have a huge roll in the pageant—I am just a lone shepherd—but I still have to attend practice. I am just as much invisible at church as at school, given that many of the kids at church are at school. The church is on the school district boundary line, though, and there are a lot of kids from the neighboring school district—they don’t pay me any more attention than the ones from mine, though.

I stand there, my staff in hand, by the fake rock and ‘peer’ out into the painted ‘valley’ where my ‘sheep’ are grazing. That’s my whole role—the whole reason I grew out my hair.

Yeah, I know—pathetic, right?

When it’s all over for the day—three hours of practice for an hour-long play and ten minutes of me ‘peering’—Mom drives me home. I’m surprised to see Mrs. Greeley’s car in the drive. I look at Mom and ask, “Is Barbie here? What’s going on?”

Mom shakes her head and drives the QS5 into the garage.

What? Oh! The Audis? No, we’re not rich, or anything. Dad is the sales manager at the local Audi dealership and we get ‘free’ cars to drive around for advertisement purposes. That’s why he works such long hours.

Anyway, Mom says, “No, Hon. Mrs. Greeley asked if it was OK to talk to you. I told her it is OK with me—but, it’s ultimately up to you.”

I look at her, confused, “What does she want to talk about?”

She just shakes her head and says “That’s for her to say—if you’re up to it.”

OK, now I am pretty sure I should be worried—but, I’m more curious.

What? You wouldn’t be?

I shrug and say, “Sure—but I’m not in Chrissy mode.”

Mom surprises me when she says, “No, she wants to talk to Jimmy.”

I give her a look that I’m sure conveys my mounting terror. Now I am sure she’s here to tell me that it’s all over.

Mom just gives me a hug and says, “She’s in the living room.”

I sigh and grab a Diet Pepsi from the fridge on my way to the living room. I see Mrs. Greeley sitting on the couch and start to ask her if she wants something to drink when I notice she already has coffee and an insulated carafe on the sofa table.

“Hi, Mrs. Greeley,” I say with a nervous tremble in my voice.

She smiles and says, “Hi, Jimmy. It certainly is different to see you like this after the past week.”

I nod, still very nervous, and she smiles wider, “Sit down, Hon. You’re not in trouble, or anything. I just want to talk—well, and ask a big favor of you.”

Now, maybe an adult thinks that’s comforting. My heart is really beating hard now. I swallow hard and sit down in the love seat. I unconsciously sit up straighter and have my legs closer together than normal. I take a nervous sip of Diet and nod for her to continue.

She completely surprises me when she says, “Jimmy, Barbara had her weekly meeting with her psychologist this morning. It’s not something she likes doing on Saturday mornings, but it is necessary. It wasn’t easy getting those Saturday appointments, let me tell you!”

She closes her eyes and gathers herself. At that moment, I realize she’s as nervous as I am. I don’t know what to make of that.

She continues, “The thing is, Dr. Myers, her psychologist, has noticed a marked improvement in Barbara’s overall demeanor. No, she’s not over her trauma—it’s like PTSD, you’ve heard of that? Post-traumatic Stress Disorder—although, now they tend to call it PTSS. ‘Syndrome’ instead of ‘Disorder’.”

She shakes her head and apologizes, “I’m sorry, Jimmy. This is still very hard for me to deal with—even after a year. Harder still, of course, for Barbara. I tend to digress as a coping mechanism. What I am trying to say is that Barbara has made progress since we moved here. Dr. Myers would like to know if that is just the move—or if you somehow have something to do with that. She would like to meet with you—both alone and with Barbara on Wednesday after school. If you are willing.”

I sit there, shocked. I shake my head to clear it and see her face fall. I realize she misunderstood what I was doing—thinking I was refusing. I quickly say, “I will do whatever I can for her, Mrs. Greeley! In case you haven’t noticed, I really like your daughter.”

She smiles and says, “Yes. That’s apparent by what you’re doing. I just hope it’s not for nothing. Dr. Myers knows about Chrissy…and that is who she would like to meet. Are you still willing?”

I feel the blood drain from my face and my palms get sweaty. I look at her in shock, “You mean go out in public as Chrissy?”

She nods, “You’ve already been to the mall. How would this be any different?”

I sigh and say, “You don’t understand. I was in some sort of numbed shock that day. I…don’t know that I could do it…again. Barbie and Jill wanted me to go with them to the mall today. You don’t know how thankful I was to have a legitimate excuse not to.”

She looks at me in surprise, “Jimmy! You don’t ever need to feel like you have to have a ‘legitimate’ excuse. You have to be honest with the girls. I know this is asking a lot. Just think about it, OK? I need to know by Monday morning, though. I can’t block the appointment slot longer than that if we’re not going to use it.”

I slowly nod and ask, “How…would I become Chrissy, if I decide to do it. I certainly wouldn’t go to school that way!”

She shakes her head with a smile, “No, Hon. Of course not. I would pick you both up a little early at school instead of you taking the bus home. You could change at our house and then we would drive over. The whole thing should be over in plenty of time for your normal study session with Jill, which would be at our house, for once. Jill’s Mom said she would bring her over. I can take you both home.”

I sigh. So, Mrs. Holiday knows about this, too, then.

I take a sip of Diet and say, “OK, Mrs. Greeley. I will think about it—I promise. I can’t promise that I can do it, though. She won’t see me as Jimmy?”

She sadly shakes her head, “Well, she could meet one-on-one with Jimmy, but that wouldn’t work for a joint session with Barbara. She really needs both sessions to research whatever it is she is trying to find out.”

I nod. I have no idea what to do.

Mrs. Greeley comes over to me and takes me in a hug, “Thank you, again, Jimmy—Chrissy. No matter what you decide, I know you are making a difference in my daughter’s life just by being in it—not like that…monster…from before. Give her time. You are just such a doll for doing this!”

Surprised by the hug and the statement, I hug her back and nod in her…chest.

---

I look at myself in the mirror. Like over the weekend, I am…disappointed? That’s not the right word… I don’t know what is. My face just looks…undone. I had even worn some mascara yesterday as Jimmy—after church. I think Mom noticed, but didn’t say anything. I’m pretty sure Dad was clueless.

I sigh, then pinch myself when I catch myself wondering if I could get away with it at school. My eyelashes are already stained much darker than normal from the mascara—even when I am not using it. I shrug, I guess that…helps?

I groan. Helps? That my eyelashes are permanently stained by the mascara that I willingly put on?

I’m a guy, dammit! Right?

I check and make sure everything looks OK. I had secretly tried on a ‘cami’, as Barbie calls them, under one of my school uniform shirts. Even a white one under my white shirt was visible—and not like a boy’s undershirt. I know that with the jacket, it would be much less noticeable, but we are allowed to take off our jackets in class—and even being invisible in school, it would be weird if I didn’t. So, no ‘cami’.

The tie is chaffing at my neck—the stiff, itchy collar, nothing like on my ‘after-school study uniforms’. That’s what I have started calling what I wear when in ‘Chrissy’ mode.

I sigh and take one more look—no signs of my panties. I can see what Jill meant by ‘lack’ of ‘anything’ up front—I’m in lacy panties and have to tuck—but, I also get that no one should ever be able to tell. Now, if I could just figure out how to better situate things when going to the bathroom at school. The stalls are small and getting everything back is difficult. I read on the internet that if you sit and hold things, it stays ‘tucked’—as long as you don’t drop your panties and pants to your ankles like normal guys do.

I am not ready to even think about sitting to pee, though! I am a guy, dammit!

Right?

Besides, have you ever looked at the toilets in guy’s stalls? Gross!

I shake my head and go downstairs for breakfast. I actually get down before Mom has to call up to me that I’m going to be late. She smiles when I come in the kitchen and give her my now-usual hug, “Good morning, Hon! My! Down before I have to call you? What’s up with that?”

I sigh as I pour my cereal, “I was having a little trouble sleeping. I don’t know what to tell Mrs. Greeley and she needs to know this morning.”

Mom nods and says, “Yes, I need to call her after you leave. I do need an answer, Sweetie.”

I sigh and take a bite of cereal. Mom looks at me and asks, “What is that bothers you about it, Hon?”

I shrug and swallow my cereal. “I don’t really know, Mom. It’s silly, I guess. I just…I mean… She’s a shrink! And I’m wearing girl’s panties and…stuff. She’s going to think I’m nuts!”

Mom hugs me from behind and says, “She knows why you’re doing it, overall, Hon—the after-school activities. It’s up to you whether you tell her about the ‘panties and stuff’.”

I sigh and stare at my bowl. I nod as she squeezes my shoulders, “OK. I’ll do it. I think I’m going to regret it! But, I’ll do it.”

She gives my shoulders another squeeze and asks, “Are you sure? If you commit, you can’t back out—that would cost the Greeleys a lot of money if they have to cancel without a legitimate reason. You getting cold feet isn’t one.”

I take a deep breath and let it out—watching the little ripples form in my milk—and slowly nod. “Yeah. I’m sure, Mom. I just hope it actually helps Barbie. I don’t feel like we are making any sort of progress.”

I blush, “I mean… Oh, you know what I mean!”

She giggles and says, “I hope that’s not the only reason you’re doing this. But, yes, I know what you are saying. Give it time, Hon. This meeting with her psychiatrist may turn out to be a good thing for both of you.”

I give her a double-take.

I have no idea how to take that.

She just smiles and pats me on the butt, “Finish up. Bus comes in fifteen minutes.”

I finish my cereal with a feeling of impending doom and walk out to the bus stop after brushing my teeth.

Jill is already waiting and sees the look on my face.

She just asks, “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

I nod and am surprised by the hug I get. It’s the first one I can remember ever getting from her in public. I blush at the giggles I hear coming from her posse as we get on the bus and she moves towards the back to sit with them.

Of course, the bus had pulled up while she was still hugging me—and they had seen.

I bury my nose in my Avengers graphic novel and try and ignore the whispers I hear coming from them.

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

---

What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

---

 

Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

Part Six

School was nothing special on Monday—other than the posse giggling if any of them happened to pass by me. The first twenty-or-so times, I blush. After that, I just ignore it—well, I try to, anyway.

Our after-school get-together at Jill’s is fairly routine—except for the discussion that somehow gets woven into the studying.

Jill starts, “OK. Should we start with world history? This holocaust stuff is really a downer right at Christmas. I’d just as soon get it over with!”

Barbie and I both shrug and nod.

Jill continues, “So… Chrissy, you’re going with Barbs to see Mitsi’s Momma on Wednesday?”

She asks it in a nonchalant, innocent kind of way.

My eyes are bugging out, “Wait! Dr. Myers is Mitsi’s Mom? Really? I’m dead—it’ll be all over school!”

In case I didn’t mention it—well, I guess I didn’t; why would I? Anyway Mitsi Myers is one of Jill’s posse—another of the ‘Hot Girls’ in school.

Barbie grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, “Breathe, Chrissy! Dr. Myers can’t tell anyone what you talk about without your permission—unless she thinks you’re going to harm yourself or someone else.”

Jill winks at me and gives me a smug look.

I resolve to kill her later—maybe something from this history book! Or maybe just with the book itself—it’s certainly heavy enough!

She says sweetly, “You didn’t answer the question, girlfriend. You—as in Chrissy—are going with Barbs to her see our peep’s Momma?”

I notice she doesn’t say ‘psychiatrist’ or ‘shrink’ and suddenly get why she said it that way. Oh! She’s still going to get it! But, I am beginning to better understand some of what would have gone over my head just two weeks ago. Maybe my brain is turning into pink cotton candy.

No! No, no, no! I am a guy, dammit!

I pale. I’m a guy going to see a shrink, as a girl, and the shrink is my best friend’s peep’s mother.

I groan and retort, “Yes, I’m going to see Dr. Myers. So, what?”

She slaps my hand, “No need to get all bitchy, girl!”

Barbie giggles for the first time since I got here. I finally get what’s going on—Jill is putting Barbie at ease. Of course, it’s at my expense. Jill gives me an ‘it’s about time’ look and I sigh and cool my jets, “Yes, I am going. But I had no idea that she was Mitsi’s Mom.”

Jill changes gears and talks about Hitler for a bit, then, just as I am getting settled into the subject of actually studying, she circles back around—throwing me off my game again, “Mitsi’s really nice, you know. I’m sure her Momma is nice, too. What do you think about her Barbs? You know her.”

Barbie spouts off some stuff about the Holocaust, then casually adds on, “Oh, yes. She’s really nice!”

Now, I have been subjected to this ping-pong type conversation between them over the past two weeks. Well, actually, it’s more like ping-pong on a spinning carousel that is on a Ferris wheel. But this time is the first time that I have been pulled into it in any significant way.

Mostly, they would talk their girl-code around me while we study. I find my brain hurting as I try and keep up.

“Who is nice?” I look at them, confused. I thought we had moved on.

Barbie says, “Dr. Myers, of course. Who did you think? Mitsi? She’s nice, too—but then, so are Sara and Kate!”

My eyes bug out. I’m sure my head is going to explode!

Before yours does, let me catch you up to where I am at—you’re on your own, then. No promises your head won’t explode with mine, though.

Sara Gibson—you’ve already met her in the drive-by talk in the cafeteria in school—and Kate Greer are the other two ‘peeps’ in Jill’s posse, along with Mitsi Myers and now Barbie.

Now you’re caught up!

See? I told you it wouldn’t help!

My head explodes and pink cotton candy falls all over the history book in front of Barbie. Well, not really—but it feels like it!

I shake my head to make sure it really is still in one piece, “OK, so let me get this straight… Hitler is bad—Dr. Myers, Mitsi, Sara, and Kate are nice… And that has…what…to do with the Holocaust?”

Jill looks at me like I’ve lost it, “Well, Hitler can’t be nice if he caused the Holocaust! Really, Chrissy! I swear you’re not paying attention today.”

I put my head in my hands.

We finally do get our studying done, but I am sure I am going to need to ask Mom for some headache medicine when I get home.

On the way out, Barbie gives me my usual goodbye hug. This time she whispers a simple “Thanks” in my ear and gives me an extra squeeze. Jill just winks at me over her shoulder.

I walk home in a daze. I still don’t understand everything that happened this afternoon.

---

After Jill and Barbie leave the next, the study session was at our house, Mom says, “OK, Hon, we need to get your stuff ready for tomorrow. Mrs. Greeley is going to pick you up from school at 2:30—an hour early. The front office is already aware and you’re officially excused. You will then go to their house, where you will need to quickly change before you go to the appointment that is at 3:15.”

I numbly nod—trying to process all of this. Mom smiles and hugs me, “You’ll be fine, Hon. Now, what do you want to wear. You need to go as Chrissy—but there are many Chrissies, as we’ve seen. There’s the more androgynous, tomboy Chrissy—all the way to the girly-girl Chrissy that sometimes comes out; though never as much as at the mall that night. I know you haven’t been comfortable in those Chrissy shoes, since.”

I shake my head, “I don’t know, Mom. I mean, I don’t know what Dr. Myers is expecting.”

It’s Mom’s turn to shake her head, “It doesn’t matter what she is expecting, Hon. I don’t think she is expecting anything specific, in any case—other than that Chrissy is there to support her peep.”

I give her a double-take at that.

She continues, “I know you’re nervous about going out in public as Chrissy, again. Just remember that no one noticed anything the last time—or, if they did, they didn’t care. I honestly don’t know what version of Chrissy is best for the meeting, Hon—but, I think the more you gravitate to the girlier side, the better you’ll feel that you’ll not be noticed. Total girly-girl is probably not best, since you don’t have the mannerisms for that—but something on the girly side of how you have been studying. I would say a bra is a given…”

I sigh and nod, “OK, what do you suggest, then?”

Mom giggles, “Oh, what is a girl to wear?”

She smiles to let me know she is kidding with me and holds out her hand, “Let’s go explore your closet, shall we?”

Thirty minutes later, we—that’s a loose ‘we’, but I willingly go along—decide on the mid-length denim skirt and the pink cashmere sweater, with a pink cami under it. Of course, I will be wearing a bra.

What? Yes, I argued against a skirt, at first. I haven’t worn one since…the mall. Mom does make some sort of weird sense, though, when she says the skirt will keep reminding me that I’m ‘Chrissy’ and that I need to act that way—the best I can.

I have gotten used enough to the bra by now that there is no guarantee that it will—even though I only occasionally have worn one.

So, I need a skirt to remind me that I am a guy pretending to be a girl—which is what everyone needs to see. A girl that is—not a guy pretending to be one! Duh! Keep up! I swear!

Mom gives me her impish look and I know I’m in trouble. She says, “Of course, if you really want to do it right, you’ll wear your heels.”

My poor eyes. I’m afraid they’ll never fit back in their sockets, now. Like the Grinch’s heart—they grow three sizes in that moment.

She continues pounding the stake through my heart, “Your toes are still in really good shape and would look adorable in the opened-toe pumps. The heels are just kitty ones—at an inch-and-a-half—and you can practice walking in them tonight. OK, the stiletto is more of a challenge than if it was a block… Of course, you could also wear the pink flats, I guess. But, the heels just go better with the overall look.”

My head explodes pink cotton candy all over the room again.

Mom picks them up and says, “Just try them. If you break your ankle, then you have a legitimate excuse to back out of the meeting!” She has that impish grin on her face again.

I sigh and some other person’s hands take the shoes from her—I know they’re not my hands.

I shake my head and take off the flats that I am currently wearing and slip on the ‘pumps’ as she calls them. To me, they represent the ‘Towering Inferno’. I had just seen that movie on one of the classic movie channels—and while it was really cheesy, the height of the heels certainly matches the height of the building!

Mom holds my hand to steady me and I walk around the room—looking at my white nails peek out the holes in the toes of the shoes. To my surprise, I only wobble for about one round, then I figure out how to steady my ankles and not twist them.

Mom lets go of my hand and coaches me to put one foot more in front of the other and to put the heel solidly down first. Then we practice on the stairs for a bit. When we get down to the hall—off the carpet—I am shocked to hear that signature sound of women’s heels on the hardwood floor in the hallway. A sound that I normally only hear Mom make—well, or occasionally Jill; or some other woman or girl visiting.

Now it is coming from me!

I see the pink cotton candy landing on the hardwood and give Mom a terrified look. She gives me an encouraging smile and says with a hug, “Just think about it, Hon. I guess we can put both pair in the bag and you can decide tomorrow?”

I nod and she makes me walk around the house for another ten minutes before she relents and lets me go up to take them off. As I make it to the top of the stairs, she says, “I’ll be right up, Hon, to show you where the razors are.”

I nearly trip in the heels and fall back down the stairs, I turn so quickly.

I look at her confused—I am sure that I don’t have any hair on my face. I check closely every day, after all.

I told you, I am a guy!

She smiles that smile that makes my head hurt. I feel more cotton candy getting ready to forcefully escape my ears.

She shrugs and says, “Heels or flats—you can see your legs. You don’t have much hair. But, Hon, any is too much—for a girl. It’ll grow back, I promise! Why do you think girls are always looking for longer-lasting options, like waxing or laser treatments?”

I let out the deep breath I didn’t even realize I was holding and hold my retort.

The pink cotton candy covers the whole upstairs, though, when she throws in that I need to do my underarms, too.

“Yes, I know no one can see—but it’s like with the lace. A girl knows.” There’s that impish grin on her face again as she hands me a pink razor and this bottle of girl’s shaving gel. “I know you’ve never shaved before. Do you need help? It’s easier in the bath than the shower—at least to start out with.”

I just turn red and shake my head.

I’m a guy! I think I can figure out how to shave!

I am totally embarrassed when I look at the little bandaids on my ankles when I get into bed. Mom was good about it when she got them out and put them on for me, “You did really well only cutting yourself twice, Hon!”

I sigh—and marvel at how the sheets feel on my hairless legs. It feels…good!

I groan as the cotton candy floats in the air above my bed.

---

The one thing I notice first thing when I put on my clothes is that they feel totally different with no hair on my limbs. As for none under my arms, it tickles when I put on my deodorant.

I sigh—I can still sort of smell the ‘chocolate strawberry’ scent of the shaving gel I had used last night. I am starting to regret not showering this morning, but I had spent over an hour in the bathtub last night. Mom had even surprised me by putting in bubble bath before I got in. Of course, it had its own flowery scent—but it left my skin feeling…well, soft. There was some kind of bath oils in the potion she poured in.

I finish getting ready and grab the bag with my neatly folded ‘Chrissy’ clothes in it. I also grab…my…purse. It has all of my makeup in it.

I once again beat Mom’s breakfast call when I enter the kitchen and give her a hug. She doesn’t say anything this morning—there is no need. She knows why.

I silently eat my oatmeal and give her a hug on my way out to the bus. She squeezes me and says, “It will be OK, Hon. I promise!”

I nod and walk out to the bus stop—more like a zombie than a human. I mean, isn’t that just another definition of ‘dead man walking’?

Jill doesn’t say anything—she just hugs me and doesn’t let go until the bus door opens. I really do ignore the giggles this time. I sit down and open up my ‘Flash’ graphic novel.

---

I look up at the clock and Mrs. Thomas, our English teacher, nods at Barbie and me. We both quietly gather our things and leave the classroom. I can tell Barbie is nervous being alone with me in the hallway in Jimmy mode—even after all this time. I sigh to myself and am happy I decided to do this. I can only hope it helps.

We sign out in the front office and go outside to find her Momma waiting for us in the visitor’s parking right in front of the school.

Barbie gets in front and I get in back. I see my bag and purse in the back seat, waiting for me. She was supposed to pick it up from the house before coming—so, I guess I don’t have that as an excuse.

I squelch the urge to…giggle…when I think about breaking my ankle in the heels and getting out of this. But, I have already decided to wear the flats. Well, and that feeling I got walking down the hall with her.

Mrs. Greeley greets us both and quickly drives off as we are returning the greeting. It’s like a switch is thrown, once Barbie is in the car with her Momma and I’m out of site in the back seat. She chatters about school the whole way to their house—which only takes about five minutes. They live closer to town and the school than we do.

Mrs. Greeley just parks in the drive, without pulling into the garage, but she does open the big garage door. Barbie hurries in ahead of us and Mrs. Greeley shows me to the guest room with an apologetic smile.

I quickly open up the bag, knowing that we need to hurry, and let out a huge groan when I see that the flats are not in it. I must have forgotten to put them in before I zipped it up this morning!

I shake my head and get out of my uniform. This is just off to a great start! Not!

I check that things are still properly tucked and put on the bra. I don’t really have time to warm the breast forms, so my nipples just have to deal with the stiffening cold. I put on the cami, then the skirt. I gasp as I feel the silky lining caress my hairless legs—it’s like the sheets on steroids!

I shake my head, knowing I have to focus. I put on the sweater and smile at it’s soft warmth. I sit down at the vanity and see there are actually lights on it, like on Jill’s—in the guest room? Huh!

I switch on the lights and quickly put on my makeup. Either I am getting better, or I just luck out—it turns out perfectly on the first try.

I look at the heels with that feeling of impending doom, again, and slip them on. I take a few steps to steady myself and look at the clock on the nightstand. It’s only been fifteen minutes!

I take out the little magnetic studs and place them on my ears, letting them snap together in just the right spot on the first try.

What? I got lucky again! What did you think?

I close the clasp on the little heart-shaped necklace and let it fall into my ‘cleavage’ on top of the pink sweater.

I stand up and take one final look.

Jimmy’s gone—there is a hot chick looking back at me in the mirror.

I gasp and hurry out of the room after grabbing my purse and the bag with my uniform.

I make it back down the stairs and into the kitchen even before Barbie does. Mrs. Greeley comes over and hugs me, “Chrissy! You look lovely—you’re a real doll!”

I sigh and say, “Thank you, Mrs. Greeley. I’m still not sure about these heels. It’s my first time…”

She looks down at them and say, “I think it’s time you call me Grace, Hon. And the way you walked in here, I would never have suspected that you’re a novice in them!”

I give her a funny look.

She smiles, “After what you have done—and are doing for Barbie. Don’t you dare let her know I called her that. Anyway, you have more than earned the right to call me Grace, Hon.”

I nod, suddenly shy. I simply say, “OK…Grace. If you say, so.”

She smiles and says, “I do say so.”

At that moment Barbie comes rushing in. She stops in her tracks when she sees me—the words, “Say so, what,” dying on her lips.

She walks around me and just lets out a low whistle, “You go, girl! Here, give me your eyeliner.”

In a wink, I have flicks on my eyes again and…Grace…giggles with her.

She says, “I was telling Chrissy she has earned the right to call me Grace, Hon.”

Barbie looks between us and then simply asks, “Really?”

I must have missed something.

Grace just nods and waves at her face with hands—I’ve noticed girls do that to keep from tearing up and ruining their mascara. I still have no idea, but then says, “OK, we have to go!”

Still totally confused, I follow Barbie and…Grace to the car and we make the short trip to a private medical facility downtown. The whole car ride takes about ten minutes.

We get out—yes, I make sure to get out ‘properly’, since the skirt is doing a really good job of reminding me—and go into the modern glass and steel building. A quick ride on the elevator, dispatches us out onto the eleventh floor—to an open reception area for Dr. Myers’ practice. It seems she has the whole floor.

I look at the clock over the receptionist as…Grace signs us in—3:10. Well, at least I only have to suffer for five minute—if the doctor is on time.

I don’t even get a chance to show that I remember to sweep my skirt in the waiting area, since we are called straight back to an office-type room with several comfortable-looking chairs around a table—well, Barbie and I are. Grace stays in the waiting area with her tablet and a book downloaded onto it.

I guess she is used to all of this.

I follow the girl in scrubs—she doesn’t introduce herself, which seems rude—and Barbie down a marble-floored hallway. I’m conscious of the clicking of my heels on the floor—and the absence of any sounds from Barbie’s flats.

I remember to sweep my skirt in here and take a seat opposite Barbie in one of the chairs. The nameless girl offers us a drink. Barbie takes a Diet Dr. Pepper. I take a Diet Pepsi.

Barbie and I don’t even get a chance to open the cans. At exactly 3:15, a girl that is clearly related to Mitsi Myers comes in—although, I would have guessed her to be her sister more so than her mother.

She smiles at Barbie and comes and gives her a hug. She then smiles at me and clasps my hands in hers. She says, “You must be Chrissy! Welcome to my practice. I’m Rita Myers and I am certainly happy to make your acquaintance. Thank you so much for coming!”

I smile awkwardly at her and don’t know what to say, so I just respond, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Dr. Myers.”

She sits and starts asking us a bunch of questions about school and studying. She doesn’t address the elephant in the room, though: Me.

After a bit, she excuses Barbie to go sit with her Momma and we are left alone in the room.

I sigh—now comes the truth of what this is about. I prepare myself to be criticized and proclaimed the proverbial pervert.

I am stunned when she says, “Well, Chrissy… Shall I call you that—or do you prefer Jimmy?”

I sort of mumble, “Chrissy is fine—dressed like this.”

She nods sagely and continues, “Well, Chrissy—I have to say that I’m very impressed.”

I take a nervous sip of my now luke-warm Diet—we’ve been in here nearly thirty minutes of the hour-long session. I guess she notices my grimace and gracefully rises to get me a glass filled with ice from a small freezer in the room.

She hands it to me with a wink and continues, “I hate warm soda, don’t you?” I nod, still wondering where this is going. She says, “Like I was saying, I’m impressed. I do want to emphasize, again, that what you say here is confidential. You’re technically not my patient, but you’re under the confidentiality clause for this session. Now, when I look at you, I see a beautiful young woman that is coming out of her tomboy stage. How does that make you feel when I tell you that, Chrissy?”

Confused, I take a sip of my Diet, now on ice and contemplate how to respond to that. I mean, what does it have to do with anything?

Sure, I am happy that she is confirming that I can pass as a girl in public—when needed. But?

She smiles and says, “Just for clarification, Hon—this is where I wait for your answer. Oh, and there is no wrong one. You obviously present as a gorgeous young lady—one with some obvious boyish tendencies. Like I said, a beautiful young girl coming out of her tomboy stage. How does that make you feel when I describe you that way?”

I take a deep breath and then let it out in a big sigh. I finally respond, “I don’t know. I don’t know how that should make me feel. I guess a little safer that I can present well enough that I won’t have some idiot kill me for being a pervert. But, I am not really out to present as a girl—not really—other than to put Barbie at ease. So, I guess it’s a little confusing to me, too—that I can pull it off.”

She smiles broadly and says, “Beautiful! Thank you, so much, Chrissy, for being honest with me. I, honestly, would be worried if you weren’t confused. So, tell me. I’m dying to know—why are you doing this?”

I look at her like she’s lost it. Then I remember—she’s a shrink…

I sigh, “Well, for Barbie, of course. To help her. But, yes, to be honest, for me, too. No! Not because I’m some girl inside a boy’s body, or anything… I want her to get better—so, that…maybe…I can date her.”

She nods and laughs—not in a mean way. I don’t feel dirty when she does, or anything. It’s actually a good-natured laugh. She says, “Bully for you! Good luck with that, Hon! She’s certainly a catch—if, and I do mean if, we can get her over her hump. So, you are determined to keep this up?”

I nod resolutely.

She smiles and says, “OK, you will have an hour right after Barbie every Saturday, then.”

I worry about my eyes again. I feel them about to drop in my lap.

She actually giggles, “Well, Hon, this is certainly an experience for you—one that most boys never get, but it’s going to be confusing for you and the Greeleys are determined to not let anything bad happen to you. It seems Grace likes you—a lot. I understand you haven’t met Mr. Greeley, yet, with him on his business trip, and all—but Grace seems to be pretty sure you’re worth protecting. After this session, I tend to agree with her.”

She winks at me.

I take a gulp of my Diet and hope I don’t let it dribble down my sweater.

She then looks at me seriously, “You aren’t confused about anything, yet, are you? Remember, this is confidential.”

I sigh—and let her know about my…issues…with the panties. Well, and now, my newfound love of hairless legs.

She nods and says, “OK, well I stand corrected. You’re a pervert!”

I think I’m going to die. Then I get mad!

I say, “What? I thought you were supposed to be here to help! What kind of bull therapy is this?”

She smiles and says, “Good! Get mad at that, Chrissy! Because it is bull! Why do you care what I, or anyone else, thinks? By the way, I think you’re perfectly normal! Anyone that genuinely prefers guy’s underwear over women’s is certainly insane! You’re just brave enough to admit it. We’ll continue this on next Saturday. I understand that you have other commitments this Saturday, but I’ll see you next, then? OK?”

I pull myself down off the ceiling as I figure out she was just baiting me. I nod.

She says, “Good! Oh, and don’t worry so much about school—I have a feeling that things will iron themselves out there, as well.”

I give her a funny look, but she doesn’t elaborate and gets up to indicate the ‘session’ is over. She personally escorts me out to the waiting area and hugs Barbie and Grace, then me. We are about to leave when the elevator opens and Mitsi steps out.

Dr. Myers smiles and waves at her, then I feel my heart fall to the floor and crash when she looks at me—and I know she knows!

I see…black…and feel myself falling.

---

My eyes flutter open before I actually hear anything. I’m lying on a couch, Barbie kneeling next to me—holding one hand in hers; her other pressing a cold compress onto my forehead.

She sees me open my eyes and exclaims, “Chrissy, are you OK?”

I try to sit up, but someone else pushes me back into the couch. I look up and see Grace. I ask, “Wha…what happened?”

Then I remember!

I groan, “Oh…yeah. Mitsi knows!”

Then I wail, “Mitsi knows!

Then I see her—Mitsi, that is. She comes over to me and says, “Yes, I know. Is that bad? I don’t get it?”

Dr. Myers comes into my field of vision and says to Grace, “Let’s let her sit up.”

Grace and Barbie help me sit up and I groan again when I see Mitsi looking at me with a mixture of concern—and confusion.

I look at her in abject terror.

Dr. Myers looks at me with obvious concern, now. She asks, “Chrissy, what are you feeling, right now?”

I look at her, hopeless, and say with no intentional sarcasm, “What? You mean besides crippling terror and complete hopelessness that my life is over? Besides that? I’m not sure… That I’m dead maybe?”

She shakes her head and says, “Well, I feel a little better that you’re joking about it.”

I’m joking? Good to know! I thought I was being serious!

She looks at Mitsi and asks, “Mitsi, what are you feeling, right now?”

She look confused and says so, “Confused. I still don’t get it.”

I take a deep breath and say, “You don’t get that you have my life in your hands. If you utter a word about this at school, I’m dead.”

A light goes on in her eyes, “But I won’t.”

That’s all she says. It’s my turn to be confused.

Now, she takes a deep breath, “Look…Chrissy, is it? Aside from the fact that I was raised to honor confidentiality, I get that you’re doing this—mostly—for Barbs. Why would I jeopardize that? Just because you think I’m some shallow babe, doesn’t make it so.”

Ouch! That stung. No, really!

She doesn’t stop, though, “Look, I know you’re Jill’s BFF—always have been, always will be. All of us in the ‘posse’, as you call it, know that. Jill is the first to admit it. We would actually all like a chance to get to know the infamous ‘Jimmy’—the one that Jill so fiercely protects. I now get why she thinks you’re so sweet—doing what you’re doing for Barbs. Yes, they caught me up while you were out. But being Barbie’s doll doesn’t change anything. Even if I also get that there is a selfish piece to that—I don’t hold that against you. Barbs is a prize worth fighting for.”

Dr. Myers looks like she’s going to have a stroke. Grace is trying hard not to die laughing. Barbie is just looking back and forth between us, in shock.

I suddenly grin and giggle, “You’re OK, Mitsi. You won’t tell? ”

She shakes her head, but adds, “I hope you will tell the rest of the ‘posse’, though. They really care about both Jill and Barbs—and, well, they deserve to know.”

I start to protest.

She cuts me off, “And…don’t you deserve some friends, for once? We all see you—even if you think you’re all invisible at school.”

My jaw drops to the floor, then snaps shut.

I stutter, “I…I…I’ll think about it.”

She just nods her head and asks, “Are you OK? If so, I have homework to tend to. Jill has your English assignment.”

I have a sudden newfound respect for this little fireball. I nod, “I think so.”

She gives me a genuine, heartfelt smile and says, “Good, it was really nice to meet you, Chrissy!”

And she’s gone before I can respond. Barbie is giving me a hug and Grace and Dr. Myers are helping me up.

Dr. Myers says, “Well, I guess you know my daughter. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize her seeing you would be an issue. But, maybe it all worked out OK. I can promise you, Chrissy, that she won’t say anything that you don’t want to be said. Not because I will tell her not to, but because she knows not to betray a trust—intentionally given, or not.”

I nod, “I think I get that. Please…thank her for me.”

She just smiles and says, “Why don’t you do that for yourself. Tomorrow, at school—or on the bus; I know you ride the same route.”

I sigh and say, “I’ll…try.”

She hugs me and says, “That’s all anyone can ask, Chrissy. I’ll see you next Saturday, but Grace will give you my private number. If you need to talk, don’t hesitate to call. If I don’t answer, leave a message. I’ll call back as soon as I can; that I also promise you. OK?”

I nod and Grace and Barbie lead me, still shocked, to the elevator.

---

I get out of the car at our house. I have a cup carrier with five extra-large chocolate shakes in one hand, my purse over my shoulder, and my bag in the other hand.

Normally, our study session would be at Jill’s today, but Grace had called my Mom and explained that we should all talk—after we study—so, Mom had insisted it be at our house.

What? Oh! The shakes—Grace insists it’s some magic that only girls know about. Chocolate and ice cream… I don’t know. I’m a guy, but maybe it will help them. Sounds like voodoo to me.

What? No, I am a guy! Really!

What? The heels… So? And so what if I fainted? I mean, really??!?

Anyway, we walk in and Mom and Jill are already there. Mom fusses over me, but I hand her and Grace one of the shakes and insist we need to study. I take the other three shakes into the kitchen and am followed by Barbie and Jill. I hand each a shake and ask Jill, “So, we have English? What else?”

She slaps my arm and we go into this topsy-turvy mix of studying and ‘talking’. The funny thing is that I half-way keep up, this time.

By the time we’re done, Jill looks at me in complete sincerity and says, “Mitsi’s right, you know! It’s time that you really meet my other friends—they’re good friends. They’d be good friends to you, too—just like they are to Barbs, here. So what if it’s as Chrissy?”

I look at her—my eyes on the counter and pink cotton candy all over the kitchen. I ask in exasperation, “And just how is that supposed to work, genius? I’m not going to be Chrissy at school, so that’s out. Being the posse’s friend as Jimmy is equally out for the same reason that Chrissy even exists!”

Barbie lets out a strangled gasp and exclaims, “I’m sorry I’m such and idiot!”

I quickly poke my eyes back in where they belong and pack the cotton candy back in my brain. I’m sitting next to Barbie, this time—that doesn’t happen too often—and I pull her into a hug and stroke her hair. I say in a soothing voice, “That’s not what I meant, Barbie. This isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s in this State, even. It’s all that idiot’s that we won’t name. But that doesn’t help us with a solution, in this instance.”

Jill comes over and takes us both into a group hug. She says, “Let’s just see how this plays out, but Chrissy, I still would really like it if you would open yourself up to Sara and Kate. Mitsi won’t tell, I promise, but Sara and Kate are just as trustworthy—and it will tear at Mitsi and me to have to keep the secret.”

Barbie hugs me back and says in a whisper, “Yes, Chrissy—you need to get to know the peeps. They are special—just like you. We’ll figure something out, OK? You just have to stay open to possibilities—and I’ll try extra hard, too, OK?”

I nod, not sure what I just agreed to. But, for once, it’s not tied to a feeling of impending doom.

Well, much…

Then, Mom calls us for supper. Pizza in the dining room—and Dad’s home. That feeling of doom quickly returns, full-force.

---

I sweep my skirt and sit down in my chair at the dining room table. I sit up straight and cross my feet, still in the heels, at the ankles under my chair, keeping my knees close together. I do all of this at the threatening look of Jill that I have learned to read, all-too-well.

I probably would have done so without the ‘reminder’, anyway—but not because I’m not a guy! No, really, I am!

Right?

Dad says a quick prayer over the pizzas—something that we really only ever do when he’s home, and I take my one piece.

I see the look of surprise in his eyes as I nibble on it.

The wrath of the ladies in the room would be much worse on me than his surprise, let me tell you! I give him an impish smile and enjoy the look of confusion on his face.

I think I’ve just discovered one of the infamous female weapons against men! Just confuse the hell out of them—errr, us…

Mom looks at Barbie and Jill and says, “First girls, I want to say that I agree with Grace that you’re old enough now to call us by our first name. Jill, Barbie, please call me Cindy—and this is George.”

Dad nearly chokes, but regains his composure, so I don’t think he was expecting that—although, I doubt he really cares. Especially not with Jill—and he knows how much I care about Barbie…

Grace smiles at Jill and says, “The offer is open to me, too, Jill. Please call me Grace. You have certainly earned that privilege, as much as Chrissy, through your friendship and support of Barbara.”

Dad is still trying to wash down the pizza stuck in his throat. I decide to test my theory of complete confusion, “So, Daddy, did you sell any cars today?” I finish it off with another impish grin.

I think Mom is going to choke herself, on giggles.

Grace, Barbie, and Jill all look at me, confused—then burst out laughing. Finally, Dad gets it—and clears his throat with a huge gulp of beer before guffawing, himself.

All of that doesn’t save me from the hangman, though. Mom says, “So, Chrissy, Grace told us about the…incident…today. Would you care to elaborate?”

By that, I know it’s not really a request…

I slowly chew my nibble, then, when it’s clear that it’s not going away, I swallow and say, “Errr…what did you want to know, Mom? I was worried that Mitsi Myers would out me at school. Well, not ‘out’ me, since I’m not like trans, or gay, or anything. Oh, crap! You know what I mean!”

Mom smiles dangerously and says, “Language, young lady!”

I know she is—half—kidding. She says, “Yes, I think so. And?”

Now, I look her, exasperated. I look around the table and see a mix of curious and impish faces. I look back at Mom and can’t help but parrot, “And? And what? It terrified me!”

She nods, “And? Don’t keep making me pull this out of you like hen’s teeth!”

I sigh. I really have no idea what she wants.

What? Like you do? If so, you tell me!

I shrug, “And I still don’t know what you want. When I came to after I…fainted… We talked it all out and I believe Mitsi when she says she won’t tell.”

Mom just cocks her eyebrow, the ‘and’ left unsaid, but clearly in the air none-the-less.

I splutter, “That’s it! We came home and studied.”

Mom sighs and says, “Is there anything about the session before all of that you want to talk about?”

I shake my head, “Not really. I just told Dr. Myers about some of my concerns and she listened. She wants me to meet with her on Saturdays after she meets with Barbie and I told her I would—but mostly to get her off of my case. I appreciate the gesture, but there is no sense wasting either of our time—or the money.”

To my surprise, Dad speaks up, “Well, you let us worry about the money. We’ve already told Grace that we’re picking up that tab—and I think it is a good idea for you to go.”

He says it in a way that doesn’t really leave any doubt that I will be going.

I look at him in a shocked…and hurt…way, “So you do think I’m crazy?!”

He takes Mom’s hand and they both shake their heads—in that way that I know they aren’t just placating me. Mom says, “No, Hon. We don’t think that at all—we haven’t been lying to you and we still aren’t. But we do agree with the Greeleys that talking through some of this with a professional will be good for you—and may help Barbie in the process, too. You do still want that, right?”

Dammit! They played the Barbie card on me!

I nod.

Mom gets that impish look on her face and says, “Good! Now that that’s settled. What else did you want to talk about?”

I groan.

The impish look gets worse, “I think we need to decide on a second name. Just Christine won’t work. Before we knew your sex, your Daddy…” More choking from that end of the table. “…and I were in a serious debate. The boy’s name was quickly decided on—you know about that one. We also quickly agreed on Christine… It was the second one that caused us problems… I was in favor of Amanda, or Janice. Your father wanted Uhura…or T’Pau!”

Jill gets up and slaps his back, he is choking so hard.

Mom wiggles her eyebrows and says, “You get to choose, Hon. The wife of a Vulcan ambassador and the mother of one of Star Fleet’s finest; a poor sexually harassed yeoman; a token African-American communications officer; or a Vulcan powerhouse?”

I groan again and watch the cotton candy fall all over the leftover pizza and my untouched side salad.

Mom just giggles; Dad continues to choke; Jill is smirking; and Barbie and Grace are clearly lost.

Mom gives me a serious look and says, “It’s up to you to settle this nearly sixteen-year-old argument, Hon. No pressure! Who will you pick?”

I groan again, “Ummm… Really?”

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

---

 

Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

Part Seven

I look up in unmasked surprise—mid-bite—as a shadow falls onto my ‘Green Lantern’ graphic novel and I hear a familiar voice ask, “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

I, of course, am sitting in my usual spot—alone—trying to catch up on the action in my novel and eat my sandwich at the same time.

What? Oh, it’s lunch—on Wednesday. Keep up!

Anyway, I look up and see Mitsi sitting down without waiting for an answer.

I automatically check to see if I had mistakenly put on a red shirt, instead of the regulation white uniform one.

In case you’re interested: It’s white.

The questioning look on my face says it all—no words are needed as I try and swallow the nibble I had taken out of my sandwich.

Mitsi smiles and shrugs, “So, I hear you went with ‘Amanda’? I would have gone with T’Pau, myself. She winks with a giggle.

I check to make sure my eyes aren’t in my sandwich—or messing up the Green Lantern, somehow.

I stutter, “H…h…how… What…? Wait!”

She just smiles smugly and says, “Jill caught me up on the bus this morning before Kate got on.”

I sigh, “So…no one else…?”

She shakes her head and takes a small bite of her salad. She slowly chews it and gives me an intense stare. After she swallows, she says, “I told you I wouldn’t tell.”

I sigh again and nod, “Yes. And I want to thank you for that. I mean that, honest.”

She smiles and says, “By the way, if you think Mama set you up with me coming into the office, you’re wrong. She didn’t know I was coming by…” She starts to say something else when another—much bigger—shadow falls onto the table. I look up and see Brad Fleming standing there. He’s looking at Mitsi and says, “What’s up, Babe? If you don’t want to sit with your posse, you can sit with us! You don’t have to sit at this loser’s table.”

What? Who’s Brad Fleming? Seriously? He’s only the senior quarterback and just took the school to the State Championship. You seriously don’t know Brad?

Oh…and he’s Mitsi’s boyfriend.

Mitsi gives him a glare—I’m pretty sure it’s what it would look like if she were Supergirl and using heat vision on him. She says, her voice dripping in contempt, “Brad, Hon, if you want a date this weekend, you need to go back to your pack of ravenous wolves and sit down. We’ve had this discussion—I don’t sit with wolves…”

Now, I’ve never seen Brad’s eyes bulge before. I see him checking to make sure they’re still there where they belong—instead of me for once—and then dig his hole a little deeper, “But, …”

That’s as far as he gets before Mitsi clenches her middle finger to her thumb—forming a circle—and Brad is lifted into the air and choking through the power of the Dark Side.

Well, that’s the look she gives him to cut him off, anyways.

He turns around and slinks back to the jock’s table without another word. I actually can picture him as a whipped wolf in that moment—with his tail tucked between his legs.

She serenely looks back at me and says in a low voice, “Sorry about my rude jerk of a boyfriend. He’s so going to have to grovel if he thinks he’s going to get anything from me this weekend!”

I give her a surprised look and she giggles, “What? TMI? Sorry—you’ve stepped into the Circle, now. Get used to it. So, Amanda? Spill!”

I sigh and close my novel—it’s clear she isn’t going away.

I shrug and say, “Well, I like Spock. It seemed like a good tribute… Not that it matters, anyway—it was a joke my Mom was playing on my Dad. But if it were real, it would be Amanda Christine—not Christine Amanda. Still going by Christine, though. I think my Dad was still choking this morning when I left.”

I grin at the memory of the look on his face when I announced my ‘choice’.

Mitsi smiles and says, “You’re actually very handsome when you smile. If you were, well, you know… I would say you’re very pretty.”

I blush.

She shakes her head, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You do look better with makeup, though. Your eyes are all washed out without it. They pop and are gorgeous when done up—especially with that cute little flick you had. You look a lot like Taylor Quick when they’re done up that way.”

I grimace and look around. No one is paying us any attention. Well, not listening attention, anyway. I’m getting some ogles from other loser tables—and stares, no make that glares, from the jock table.

I look back at her and say, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She giggles and says, “You need to relax, Hon! I won’t embarrass you—at least not on purpose! I do, however, want to broker a meeting with the rest of the Circle.”

I raise an eyebrow and swallow my nibble before asking, “Circle?”

She smiles. She really is quite beautiful—and hot—when she does that. She says, “What you call Jill’s ‘Posse’. We’ve always called ourselves the Circle. Long story for some other time. Anyway, I want you to meet Sara and Kate—and come clean with them. I can hold your confidence forever—without breaking a sweat—and Jill would never tell. But it’s eating at her—I can tell. We don’t keep a lot of secrets within the sisterhood.”

I blow out the air in my lungs and check again to make sure my shirt hasn’t somehow been cursed and suddenly turned red.

I quietly—and wordlessly—take a nibble out of my sandwich. Mitsi just sits there and quietly takes a bite of her salad—but, her deep green eyes are boring into mine. They look gorgeous framed by her flame-red hair.

I’m beginning to think this ‘Circle’ is code for ‘witches’!

I sigh. I can’t take it!

What? I’m a guy and she’s a witch! I would like to see how long you could stand up to that stare!

What? No, I don’t really think she’s a witch. Maybe just an enchantress…

I ask, “What do you have in mind?”

Her smile brightens the room again and her eyes soften to warm, green embers. She says, “Meet me in the library during fifth period study hall. Jill and Barbs will be…elsewhere.”

I sigh and nod. She nods and finishes her salad—and starts asking me about my ‘Green Lantern’ novel.

I just give her a confused look, but answer the questions while she continues to give me an impish grin.

The cotton candy in my head takes on a purplish hue—she seems genuinely interested!

Who knew?!?

---

I feel the hard shove in my back and the locker slam against my face before I know what’s happening. I am brutally spun around and am suddenly looking into Brad Fleming’s furious face. Then I see a bright light as I feel his right fist connect with my left eye—hard.

Hard enough that I continue to see stars. He lets me go and says in a menacing voice, “That’s for chatting up my girl! Do it again and you won’t get off so easy!”

So much for invisibility…

I sort of slide down the locker into a sitting position on the floor and he’s gone. There’s no one else in the hallway—at least I’m that lucky—until Mitsi, Sara, and Kate come around the corner. Most kids don’t use the library for study hall anymore—they go to the computer lab or stay in their homeroom with their own laptop—so, it’s not really a surprise that there is no one else around.

Mitsi sees me first and rushes over to me, “Jimmy! Are you OK? What happened?”

I gently touch my eye and feel the swelling already starting. I shake my head to clear out the cobwebs—not the pink cotton candy kind, but the pain-induced fog that is quickly enveloping it.

Mitsi says, “Kate, go get the nurse. Sara, go tell the front office. Whoever did this is in a lot of trouble!”

I reach out a hand and say in a stunned voice…

What? No, I am really still stunned from the blow!

Anyway, I reach out my hand and say in a voice indicative of my stunned state, “No… Wait… That’s not a good idea…”

Mitsi is kneeling by me and reaches up to gently brush the bangs out of my left eye and survey the damage. She looks at me and asks, “Why…?”

She stops and gasps, “Oh, no he didn’t! Brad did this?”

I sigh and nod at the same time Sara and Kate gasp.

Mitsi looks hard at me, the fury and disgust clear in her eyes, and says, “You don’t have to protect him because he’s my boyfriend. This is assault!”

I shake my head—it’s starting to clear a little more—and sit up straighter. I give her a lop-sided grin, “In a way it’s kind of cool that he thinks I’m enough of a threat to be jealous. I mean of me?”

I think he jarred the pink cotton candy loose in my head because I giggle.

But, yeah! I am a guy! This proves it!

Err…right?

Mitsi and Co. look at me with concern and I sigh, “It hurts—more than just my pride—but he’s a school jock. What are they going to do to him? He’ll get a slap on the wrist and I’ll look like an idiot.”

Mitsi is shaking her head. Kate says, “Jimmy, it doesn’t matter that Brad is a jock, nor that he’s Mitsi’s boyfriend—there’s a zero-tolerance policy for violence here. The thing is—you’d both get suspended. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t do anything. You were involved.”

Sally is nodding in agreement. Mitsi looks really pissed and says, “Well, I can promise that when I’m done with that jerk, he’s going to wish he’d just been suspended. He’s going to find out what blue balls really are, it’s going to be so long before he gets a chance to use his.”

I shake my head, “I must still be loopy. I thought you said something about blue balls? You mean…”

Mitsi shrugs, “Yeah we do… And no, he won’t for quite some time. And, yes, I know there really isn’t such a thing as blue balls. Now, can you stand?”

I get up, shakily, and we go into the empty library. The only person in there besides the four of us is Mrs. Johnson, the librarian—and she’s half blind and twice that deaf.

The girls lead me to a secluded study area and Mitsi checks my eye again. She sighs and says, “That’s going to be quite the shiner, but it’s not cut and the swelling isn’t too bad. Your bangs hide it somewhat.”

Kate looks at me and says, “OK, first Mitsi—what’s this meeting all about—and second, Jimmy, I can hide that if you don’t mind me using a little concealer. I mean, I know it’s makeup, and all, but…” She sees the look on Mitsi’s and my face and sits back, “What? It’s not that stupid! I’m just trying to help!”

Mitsi giggles and says, “Jimmy?”

I sigh and say, “Look, Kate…and Sara. I know we’ve known each other for years, but we’ve never interacted—other than in class. Even though we have a very good mutual friend.”

They both look at me, confused. Sara says, “Yeah, Jill—so?”

I sigh again… I look at Mitsi and say, “I don’t think I can do this!”

She shakes her head and asks, “Is it OK, if I do?”

I blow out my breath and nod.

And Mitsi tells them about Chrissie. Of course, there are bulging eyes and a plethora of giggles. When she is done, I find myself in a group hug and Kate says, “Well, then! The concealer shouldn’t be a problem for you!”

I groan, “I appreciate that, Kate, but, I don’t want it out there, at all, that I’m Chrissie. That’s just something that I do for Barb’s sake. There is no such thing as Chrissie here at school, so there is no such thing as Jimmy being OK with makeup.”

Kate nods in thought, “OK, I get that. But, if we do this right, no one will know. The whole reason for concealer is to be invisible—sort of like you endeavor to be all the time.”

Sara looks at Mitsi and asks what I have been wondering, as well, “What’s your plan with all of this, Mitsi? It’s clear that Jimmy has no intention of coming to school as Chrissie. That means that he still can’t interact with Barbs here the same as he does with her after school. So, what is this all about? When are we supposed to all be able to get together? If that’s your plan.”

She sighs and says, “Jimmy, you really should let Kate work on that eye. She’s good. As for the rest, Jill and I have talked and we’re not sure, yet, either. This was just the first step.”

Sara nods and Kate looks at me and holds up a bottle of flesh-colored liquid from her purse with an inquisitive grin.

I sigh and say, “OK—I guess I can wash it off if it looks stupid, right?”

Kate cocks her head and says, “Yes, it will wash off—it’s not waterproof, or anything. As a matter of fact, you want to be careful if you get hot and start sweating, it will run right off. I mean that’s not likely in this weather, but you get what I mean? You’re lucky we’re really close in tone and complexion.”

Then she asks me a funny question—not funny ‘Ha-Ha’, but one that I don’t get. She starts shaking the bottle and looks at me, like she’s looking into my soul, “Jimmy does it embarrass you to wear makeup? I mean, if so, why are you doing it?”

That takes me for a loop. I don’t know how to answer that question. I mean I’m a guy, right? I mean, yes, I’m a guy! And guys don’t wear makeup. But—does it embarrass me? I don’t think so—there’s something else…

I shake my head and say, as she starts gently dabbing the liquid under my bruised eye and wincing at my wince, “No, ‘embarrass’ is not the right word. I mean… It’s not normal for a guy to wear it—and, yes, I work hard at being invisible—so, those two things go hand-in-hand. No, I don’t want to get laughed at, any more than the next guy. And, I certainly don’t want to get beat on anymore!”

Sara says, “So… If you were sure that you wouldn’t get laughed at—or that no one would beat up on you, you would wear makeup?”

I laugh at that. What? It was funny!

I say, “Well, two weeks ago I would have said, ‘Hell no!’

She just smiles and retorts, “And now?”

I shake my head and say, “Well, to be honest, Mitsi said something to me at lunch, which I still don’t understand what was all about—the lunch, I mean; not what she said.” I look at Mitsi and she shrugs. I say, “She said my eyes look much better with makeup. I couldn’t agree more. They look really plain without and I would actually prefer to wear it, now—but, I’m not that brave trendsetter that’s going to go all out there and wear it to school. Like I said—I don’t want to get laughed at. I really mean that.”

Mitsi says, “So, you’re not embarrassed by it. You’re just not brave enough to go out in public with it on?”

I shake my head and say, “You know that’s not true, Mitsi. You’ve seen me in public with it on—just not as Jimmy.”

She smiles, “Touché! But, I was referring to Jimmy.”

I sigh as Kate gently turns my head from side to side and looks at my face in the different light. I shrug, “It’s not something I can do and still hide. If I could…” I shrug and let it drop.

Kate just smiles, “Well, I think you look more like yourself now. As for the other, let me think about it. Like Mitsi said, I’m good. But, we better get to our next class. The bell is about to ring.”

I stop off in the boy’s room on the way and look in the mirror. Kate has done an awesome job hiding the bruise. I mean I didn’t actually see it before, but I sure feel it. Between her magic gunk and my bangs, I may escape school unscathed.

Yeah, right!

---

I get to our next class and the second bell hasn’t rung yet. Mitsi is frantically texting on her phone. Kate and Sara are whispering to Jill and Barbie, who are looking in my direction with concerned faces.

Then Mrs. Smith comes in and doesn’t even start class before she says, “Mr. Alexander, Mss. Gibson, Myers, and Greer—please gather your things and go to Mrs. Blackthorn’s office.”

Mitsi had just put her phone away and looks up shocked, along with the rest of us. Mrs. Smith says, “Don’t make me repeat myself, please. Go now and I suggest you don’t dawdle on the way!”

The four of us look at each other, totally confused. I shrug at Barbie and Jill on the way out.

Kate explodes when we’re out in the hall, “O!M!G! What the hell? The principal’s office? Not even the vice-principal? Straight to jail!”

No one responds to her tirade. No one has a response.

We walk into the front office and Mrs. Sprout, the secretary, tells us to have a seat. After several tense minutes, the door to Mrs. Blackthorn’s office opens and Brad Fleming storms out. He doesn’t even look at us on his way out to the hall.

Mrs. Blackthorn beckons us in and tells us to sit in the chairs lined up in front of her desk.

She starts out by looking closely at my face—and smiling. Then she says, “Ms. Myers, would you mind giving me your phone?”

Mitsi looks confused, but hands her her phone. Mrs. Blackthorn asks after trying to access it, “Care to unlock it?”

Mitsi shakes her head, “No Ma’am. I prefer not to.”

She looks hard at Mitsi, “Even if it will reduce your and your friends’ sentence?”

Mitsi shakes her head resolutely. Mrs. Blackburn looks at the rest of us, “Would any of you like to convince Ms. Myers to change her mind?”

None of us speak up.

She sighs and says, “No matter—Mr. Fleming gave his up and I have the texts I need from them.”

She looks straight at me, “Mr. Alexander. You’ve gotten yourself and your girlfriends here in quite the mess, young man.”

I look at her before checking my lap for my eyes. I’m also pretty sure I didn’t wear a red shirt, so I don’t check the one I have on. I just say in a totally perplexed tone, “I honestly have no idea what you are talking about, Mrs. Blackthorn.”

She just smiles at me and swings her computer monitor around so that we can all see it. She presses a button on her keyboard and the video of Brad Fleming ambushing me from behind starts playing. I watch myself pathetically slide to the floor after he cold-cocks me. Then, after he disappears, Mitsi, Kate and Sara come along and help me up and move towards the library.

I hang my head. The video clearly shows that I did not aggravate the incident—that I was ambushed and did not fight back. It also clearly indicates that the three girls in the room knew what happened—even if they did not witness it. I’m sure that’s what Mitsi’s texting was all about—to Brad.

Mrs. Blackthorn looks at us with something akin to…respect? She says, “So, Mr. Alexander. This clearly shows you were not a willing participant in the altercation—nor, did you fight back. I also have eye-witness accounts of what happened at lunch with Mr. Fleming. If you had come forward of your own accord on this, we wouldn’t be here. Not reporting the assault, unfortunately means that you must be punished, as well.”

She looks at the three unwitting girls and says, “That includes the three of you as accessories. Ms. Myers’ texts are very…graphic… And I have no doubt that Mr. Fleming will certainly regret his actions today, well beyond his two-week suspension.” She actually giggles, “Not that I can condone the punishment you are doling out, young lady!”

The look in her eyes says otherwise, however. Women! I don’t think I will ever get them! I try hard—but pink cotton candy lands all over Mrs. Blackthorn’s desk.

She continues on, “Had you given up your password like Mr. Fleming, Ms. Myers, then the collective punishment of this group would have been reduced to three after-school, one-hour detentions. As it is, I’m afraid the four of you will have to endure five after-school, two-hour detentions. You will be helping me tutor freshmen in various subjects. I trust you have learned your lessons!”

She puts on a fake, stern look and we are all floored. We get the slap on the wrist—and Brad gets the hammer!”

She smiles and says, “And, Mr. Alexander, I don’t know who…fixed…that eye, but you should profoundly thank them. It is excellent work. You may now go back to class. Your detentions will begin next week and your parents will be duly notified.”

With that, she shoos us out of the office and Mrs. Sprout hands us each a hall pass with a wink.

We all walk to our homeroom where our last period, English, will begin in twenty minutes.

I stutter, “I…I…I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to pull you into this with me…”

Mitsi slaps my arm and admonishes me, “Stop right there, Jimmy! You did nothing wrong! And neither did we! She had to give us something for the technicality—and trust me, ‘Mr. Fleming’ is going to suffer for this!”

She smiles and Kate pulls us all into a group hug, then she says, “Jimmy! You’re going to have to be careful!”

I see a little of the ‘concealer’ on Sara’s blazer. Kate takes me aside and quickly dabs some more ‘potion’ under my eye, while Sara goes into the girl’s room to wash the stuff out of her blazer.

Kate kisses me on the cheek when she’s done and I look at her in shock. She smiles and says, “That’s just for being so sweet to Barbs—and for being such a good friend to Jill. I’m glad we’re getting to know each other better. Welcome to the Circle!”

Sara comes out, a damp spot on her blazer, but no other sign of the ‘potion’. She smiles and gives me a hug, having heard what Kate had just said and says in a serious tone, “Ditto!”

I look around and wonder who’s going to sweep up all the cotton candy littered through the hall!

---

Mom and Dad weren’t really mad about my detention—they weren’t happy either, though. Especially when they found out that I wasn’t really to blame. They accepted Mrs. Blackthorn’s explanation that I was being punished with a minimum sentence for a technicality and let it go.

With her…

Me? Well they congratulate me for sticking up for my friends.

What? No! Not Brad Fleming! Seriously! Pay attention! Do we have to go over the whole thing again?

Anyway, I figure the rest of the week will drag by and I will serve out my sentence next week.

Little did I know! I mean, I am a guy, after all!

Enough said—I cannot fathom the female mind…

Mom goes out and buys a bottle of concealer when she figures out why I don’t have a black eye.

What?!? O!M!G! Of course, I do! Black as Darth Vader’s cape. It was just covered up! Aren’t you paying any attention?!?

Anyway, she goes out and buys this bottle of concealer—after she makes Jill give her Kate’s number so she can text her and ask her what brand and color it is she used on me—and then makes me practice dabbing it on. Well, after I put a bag of frozen peas on my eye—after gently washing off the stuff that Kate had put on me!

What? I’m chattering! Really? You go through what I have and see if you can be brief!

So, anyway, I get up the next morning and groan when I see my eye. The peas must have worked—there is very little, if any swelling, but it sure is a beaut in terms of black eye!

I go through the motions of using the special little wedge-shaped-sponge-thingy that Mom gave me after I wet it and wring it out. I add a little of the concealer-potion-stuff to it and dab it on. It’s less tender this morning, but it’s still, well, sore. So, I gingerly dab.

After a few minutes of blending—well, that’s what Mom called it; so, what’s your point?—the monstrosity just…disappears.

I finish getting ready and go down and give Mom a hug. I look at the clock and sigh—this getting down here before she calls me is getting to be a bad habit—I’m like ten minutes earlier than her normal call!

I am a guy, after all—and have a rep to protect!

Err… Right?

Mom smiles and scrutinizes my face. Satisfied, she says, “Good job, Hon. Oatmeal’s ready and bus is in twenty minutes!”

She goes about her business and I nibble at my oatmeal—I don’t think I could shovel it in, anymore, without choking if I tried. It’s amazing how much better it is if you slow down and enjoy it.

Umm… I am a guy…?

I have this weird flash of older kids—but strangely younger than me, at the same time—taunting me; laughing at me; calling me ‘girly-boy’.

Just as quickly as it came on—it’s gone.

I shake my head and go up to brush my teeth—that blow to my head must have really stirred up the cotton candy in there!

I hurry out to the bus stop and Jill is waiting. She smiles, “Mornin’, Hon. You OK?”

I nod and say, “Mom says I did OK hiding it?”

She scrutinizes my face and says, “No one will notice unless they know to look. Still; are you OK?”

I sigh as the bus pulls up and the door opens, “As good as can be, I guess…”

So, when I get on the bus, already anticipating cracking open the newest ‘Peter Parker’ graphic novel, I’m totally blown away when Jill grabs my hand and pulls me further back in the bus to her posse—well, ‘The Circle’, I guess.

I ask in eloquent exasperation, “Whassup? What’re you doing, Jill?”

Mitsi just says, “Shut up and sit, Jimmy!”

My mouth snaps closed instead of delivering the intended retort. Kate pats the seat next to her and I sit. She inspects my work and pronounces it ‘well-done’ and I look at one of the girls, then the next—until I have looked at the three ‘Circle’ girls that ride the morning bus—Barbie only rides the afternoon bus home with us. Sara is on a different route, entirely.

Jill says, “OK, Jimmy-slash-Chrissie, you’re officially a member of ‘The Circle’, now.”

I want to shush her so bad, but a quick look around confirms what I already know—no one gives a shit about the conversation—except Freddie Fender, who is most certainly wondering how the loser, Jimmy Alexander, got in good with the posse. But, he is sitting way up front and can’t hear the discussion—unless he has super-hearing.

Maybe I should somehow check?

Jill pinches my knee and hisses, “Pay attention, Hon! This is important!”

Kate says, “I have a plan…”

Jill adds, “I had my own conversation with Blackthorn yesterday—after your…session…with her. It was…enlightening.”

I give her a confused look.

She smiles—it rivals Mom’s impish one… I suddenly have that impending dread of doom.

She says, “So, there’s no official school policy against boys wearing makeup. There is an official school policy against discrimination—on any basis. And, as you already know now that you’re a convicted felon…” She giggles and continues, “…there is certainly a zero-tolerance policy against violence. So…”

Kate jumps in, “We’re going to ease you into wearing your eye makeup at school. It won’t completely counter your uniform, but it will help start allowing Barbs to differentiate you from the other boys at school. We can slowly acclimate her to you…”

Jill says, “We know it’s not rational—her thoughts about boys and you—but, if we’re going to get her to the point of not freaking out when you’re around without adult supervision…”

I sigh and wonder how the bus driver can see with the cotton candy stuck all over the front windshield.

I say, “Ummm, I appreciate the sentiment, guys… But, I’m not wearing makeup to school!”

When they all give me a jaundiced look, I stutter, “Well, th…th…this is diff…fff…ffferent!”

There! I sure showed them!!!

Kate says, “Sit still!”

Jill hands her my purse with my makeup! How did she get that?

I try to get up to chase my eyeballs rolling down the aisle, but Mitsi squeezes my shoulders—not in a forced, but in a very supportive way and says, “Let her do her magic, Chrissie… No one has to know, Jimmy…”

I sigh and sit tight as Kate very quickly puts a perfect very thin tightline of liner on my lids and a very light coat of mascara on my upper and lower lashes. She hands me a small mirror—I later find out that it’s called a ‘compact’ because there is this compacted powder in it—and I can tell it’s there. But I have to really look to see it. It’s genius.

I wonder why the driver doesn’t have the windshield wipers on full speed to get rid of the sticky, pink cotton candy on the windshield. I hope she has extra wiper fluid!

We pull into the school busyard and we all file out.

All three girls give me a hug—and I go my separate way as they hook up with Sara and Barbie. My purse is very carefully hidden under my coat—I just have to get it into my locker with no one noticing!

I feel all warm and…well, good…at the looks I’m getting from some of the other kids at having received the hugs from the ‘hot girls’.

But, I feel a layer of invisibility peel away—and wonder at what price?

---

I sigh. Peace and quiet!

I open my ‘Peter Parker’ graphic novel and take a small, but satisfying bite of my salad.

I silently groan when I see the shadow quickly engulf the panel I’m reading. I look up and Sarah is sitting down, without asking. I guess it’s a ‘club privilege’.

I raise an eyebrow.

She giggles, “My turn, today.”

Before she can say another word, Chad Little comes over.

What?!?!? You don’t know Chad Little?!?!? He’s only Brad Fleming’s ‘go-to’ wide-receiver.

Oh, and he’s Sara’s boyfriend.

Oh, right—you were just pulling my leg! You really did know!

Anyway, Chad comes over—and scampers away at one ‘look’ from Sara.

I’ve got to get me one of those!!!

Sara turns back to me and smiles, “So… Anyone say anything?”

I know exactly what she’s talking about—my eye; well, eyes, actually.

I simply shake my head, no.

She smiles brightly, “See! It’s still very light, but over time, we can increase it and no one will be the wiser—just like the proverbial frog in hot water…”

I sigh, “I don’t think that’s actually a proverb, Sara.”

She giggles, “Well, you know what I mean!”

I smile and nod.

There should be cotton candy everywhere, right now, but, I’m actually enjoying the company. It would, of course, be nicer, if it was Barbie.

Lunch period is over before I know it and the rest of the day goes by without incident—not even a strange look at my eyes.

---

Friday goes by the same as Thursday. I am coerced into ‘eye-pop-light’, which is slightly heavier that ‘eye-pop-extra-light’, on the bus, and I fill it out more at home for after-school studies. My big surprise for the day is Jill sitting with me for lunch—the first time since we have been in school with a grade associated with it.

No, Greg doesn’t even attempt to come over. It seems word is getting around that it’s not a good idea to interrupt these lunch sessions.

The only thing that mars the whole lunch is some sort of…vision…of the group of older, yet younger, children taunting me—the same one as before. It starts when I reflect on the last time I can remember having lunch with Jill in school—sometime around…Kindergarten.

It quickly dissipates and I don’t think Jill notices. I leave lunch feeling oddly at peace—it could have only been topped if it had been Barbie; but only barely.

So, when I wear a light coat of mascara and a very thin tightline of liner in my role as shepherd during the pageant over the weekend—and no one says a word—it’s…encouraging.

I sit at home afterwards and fill out the eyeliner and add two more coats of mascara, in spite of being in ‘Jimmy’ mode, and wonder what this means?

I gasp as I have another ‘vision’—it almost seems like a flashback, it’s so vivid.

I don’t say anything about the ‘vision’—and Mom and Dad don’t say anything about the makeup. Not even when I wear the same light version to service the next day…

Of course, I wonder how long it takes them to clean up the cotton candy from the pews after we leave…

So, when I get on the bus on Monday morning, already wearing the makeup, Jill, Mitsi, and Kate just smile. The bruise under my eye is mostly gone and only needs the lightest of coats of concealer.

What? That’s what it’s called! Pay attention! Did you really think it was some sort of potion? O!M!G!

I am a little worried about detention today—and the fact that it will mess with our after-school study time—but, am grateful that Mitsi, Kate, and Sara will be with me.

What? So, sue me! They’re nice!

It would only be better if Barbie was going to be there. It seems like the more I do, the more I get pulled away from her!

What? No! I don’t wish detention on her—are you crazy? I just wish she could be there!

I am decidedly in a huff at lunch and decide I’m going to tell whichever member of the ‘The Circle’ shows up for ‘lunch duty’ today to take a hike—even if it’s Jill!

So, when the shadow appears, I take a breath to tell them to leave me alone and look up—and lose my breath and resolve in one fell swoop. To my utter surprise, a very nervous Barbie is standing there—looking like she’s ready to bolt.

I very carefully sit up straight and take on a more feminine posture. I smile and say, “Hi, Barbie. Would you like to sit?”

She gives me a nervous smile and timidly nods, then hesitantly sits. She says in a very low whisper, I can barely hear her, “Hi, Chrissie. You look…funny…in that boy’s uniform.”

I smile and respond, “Ummm… Well, my skirt was dirty…and we have to wear a uniform. I checked—there’s no policy on which uniform you have to wear.”

That much is true—boys could wear the girl’s uniform and vice versa.

She smiles and says, “Well, I prefer you in proper clothes—but, I’m glad to finally have lunch with you!”

I feel my heart melt and the rest of the day, detention included, is just wonderful.

---

The rest of the week actually flies by. It’s the last full week before Christmas and once it’s over we will be out for two weeks on Christmas vacation.

Detention isn’t bad—Mrs. Blackthorn isn’t such a blowhard, once you get to know her. Sara, Mitsi, Kate, and I help her tutor students in need of help in various subjects and I feel really good when the light goes on in their head—the light a professional teacher couldn’t turn on!

I can tell Mitsi, Kate, and Sara feel much the same as I do.

All of the girls convince me to ramp up the eyeliner minimally by Friday and add another layer of mascara. No one in school seems to notice—or they don’t care.

The cotton candy in my head is getting better about staying there—and Barbie is having lunch with me every other day.

The only problem is, I keep reminding myself that I’m a guy…

What? You don’t believe me? I can show you—errr…I just need to untuck first, OK?

Anyway, the more the cotton candy is happy to stay in my head and the more I remind myself that I am a guy, the stronger these…visions…become. They’re becoming more than annoying.

Oh…and Mitsi is going to break up with Brad Fleming. It seems he really is a jerk. Now, the cotton candy lands on the moon when she starts complaining to me today—ummm…Friday…when we have a short break in detention…about how much she regrets having put out for him these past few years. She laments that she will miss the orgasms, but that she isn’t going to satisfy that jerk’s needs anymore!

Like I said, when you see a large, fluffy, pink moon tonight, you’ll at least know why!

So, now all I have to do is get through my joint—with Barbie—and individual sessions with her Mom tomorrow.

Yeah, the fact that I am OK with panties and wearing some makeup to school bothers me… But, these recurring visions—now becoming dreams at night—are starting to bother me more.

I just don’t know whether to bring them up.

I mean Barbie and I are making progress and this isn’t about…me!

Right?

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

---

What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

---

 

Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

Part Eight

Mom drops me off at Dr. Myers’ building and I ride up to the eleventh floor. I had decided to come dressed more comfortably today. Starting to wear the light makeup at school somehow has boosted my confidence enough that I come in a more ‘neutral’ Chrissie mode—jeans and a sweater. Oh, and flats.

I still wear a bra and have full eyeliner and mascara, plus lip gloss on, though.

I take a seat in the waiting area after signing in and notice that Grace isn’t here. I guess she just dropped Barbie off, too. I look at the clock over the receptionist’s desk and see that I only have about five minutes before our joint session is to begin.

What? Oh, yeah—sorry. I need to catch you up.

Barbie and I have back-to-back hour-long sessions scheduled. Barbie spends her first forty-five minutes with Dr. Myers alone, then we do half-an-hour in a joint session, then I spend my last forty-five minutes alone with her.

Jeannette, the receptionist, smiles and motions me in.

Show time! Or, well, something like that.

I’m still not sure what I’m going to say.

I decide to just see what happens…

I enter the room where Barbie and Dr. Myers have been holding the session—Room Four—and give Dr. Myers a girly-hug when she gets up and comes over to me. Barbie comes over and gives me one, too, then we all sit down.

Dr. Myers smiles and says, “So, Chrissie—I hear there was excitement at school this week. How is Jimmy doing?”

I give her an awkward smile—talking in third person about myself feels funny. I mean—I am the same person…

I shrug, “Most of the physical damage has healed—I think he is doing OK.”

She nods and gives me a wink. I think she did that on purpose. Why? I have no idea, but hope to find out later.

The next half hour flies by as Dr. Myers engages both Barbie and I in a series of questions that guides the discussion. The gist of it is, Barbie seems to be getting more and more comfortable being around Jimmy at school—while nowhere in the same universe with other boys.

She’s OK being around boys when in a group of girls that way outnumbers the boy or boys—or if there is an adult woman around. Dr. Myers notes that she’s lucky that all of our teachers are women.

With Jimmy, she’s now comfortable enough to sit in a crowded cafeteria, for example, and have lunch without a full-on panic attack. She’s not ready to go for any private walks, or anything, yet, though.

Dr. Myers gives her a big hug and whispers something in her ear when her time is up. Barbie nods and smiles, then leaves the two of us alone in the room.

Dr. Myers smiles at me and asks, “OK, how is Jimmy really doing? And, yes, I know Jimmy and Chrissie are the same person. First, I wanted to see your reaction when I asked that—and I got the response that I expected, well, no hoped. That you know that, too.”

She grins a little at the sour look on my face and continues, “Second, I needed to get you used to the delicate balancing act we had to be in over the next half hour. Barbie is getting used to Jimmy being around her—but she has put up this carefully constructed wall in her head that Jimmy and Chrissie are two separate people. Not healthy in the long run, but good enough for now. We can slowly work at tearing down that wall, together, OK?”

I take a deep breath and nod.

She continues with a confirming nod of her own, “Hopefully, that will help her with her overall anxieties. Sadly, that is likely a much longer road—one that she will hopefully come to the end of one day.”

She cocks her head and says, “Somehow, I get the feeling that you’ll be there when she does, though.”

I smile crookedly at her, “I hope so.”

Then she straightens her notepad and plays with her pen. She looks me straight in the eye and repeats, “So, back to my original question, Chrissie. How is Jimmy really doing?”

I sigh. The dream was stronger last night—strong enough that the taunting woke me up in a sweat. It took me a while to get back to sleep. It had all seemed so real. I’m pretty sure that it is something my brain is just trying to work through.

I’m a guy and guys don’t admit to this stuff.

Right?

She just continues to quietly sit there. I’m sure she can read the inner turmoil and struggle on my face.

I sigh and shake my head, “Jimmy’s fine Dr. Myers. Being able to have lunch with Barbie a couple of days a week is awesome! What the school did with Brad sent a clear message to not mess with whoever happens to be eating at my table—well, and the girls themselves! I never realized…”

I let my words drop and she giggles, but remains otherwise quiet.

After a couple minutes of silence, she says, “OK, Chrissie, I’ll start. When I saw you last week, you were all dolled-up and doing your best to be ‘Chrissie’. You were doing an admirable job, but it was still…awkward. I did see you as tomboy. Today, I see a much more relaxed, Chrissie—both in terms of garb and behavior. I think you are coming to be much more in tune with your Chrissie role—and with time, that may actually bleed over into Jimmy’s behaviors. I know you have strived to be invisible at school—but that protection, inappropriate as it is, has been cracked with the Brad incident.”

I feel my face pale.

She says, “I’m not saying this to alarm you—or to persuade you to change anything. I just want you to be aware. You don’t have any ‘guy’ friends to use as a baseline—and that can warn you of Chrissie-like behavior, the way you now have a bunch of girlfriends that will point out when Chrissie is acting more like Jimmy. Does that make sense? I want to make sure that we keep that as a topic on our weekly agenda. I may also consult with a friend of mine that is more of an expert on such things. Oh, and don’t get me wrong, I think it’s perfectly fine for boys to have feminine tendencies—and vice versa—but what I think and others think at school may well be different.

I suddenly have ‘the vision’ and jolt a little.

She gives me a concerned look and waits.

After a few minutes of complete silence and her just looking at me, I break.

What? OK, I’m a guy, not a frickin’ Navy Seal!

“It’s just…”

I let it drop again.

She doesn’t let it go, though, “Just what?”

I sigh, “Well, mostly ever since Brad…assaulted…me. I still have a hard time calling it that, but the girls insist that’s what it was. I mean Mitsi even broke up with him over it!”

She nods and says, “The girls are right, Chrissie—it was assault. You’re sure you want me to call you Chrissie?”

I sigh and nod, “Yes, I have to keep reminding myself that I am when in these clothes, or I might slip up and…really get beat up! So, that is a concern of mine!”

She nods, “OK, Chrissie, you were going to say something else, though, right?”

I sigh again, “Well, ever since Brad assaulted me, I have been having these…dreams.”

She just quietly looks at me, waiting.

I blow out my breath and say, “It’s always the same—well, mostly. Although it seems to be getting more vivid. I’m surrounded by the bigger—older—kids and they’re taunting and shoving me. They’re calling me things like sissy and girly-boy. The weird thing is that in the dream, they’re older than me—somehow, I just know that—but they only look like they’re maybe eight, or so.”

She’s taking some notes, quietly letting me talk. She looks up when I pause and asks, “These kids—are they boys?”

I shake my head, “Both boys and girls—they just seem like they’re maybe two or three years older than me.”

She writes some more, “So…you’re what? Five?”

I shrug, “I have no idea. It’s all sort of foggy—it’s just a…feeling…I have. Especially when it happens during the day.”

Her eyebrows go up at that, “So, you have this ‘dream’ during the day? Are you not sleeping and falling asleep in class?”

I shake my head, “Err…no. I mean, the dream did wake me up last night and I had trouble falling asleep again, but that was really the first time for that. No, during the day it’s more like a…vision…than a dream.”

She silently nods and sits there looking at me.

I want to scream at her!

What? I just bared my soul to her and she just looks at me!

I jump when she speaks, it had been quiet for so long, “I’m sorry, Chrissie. I had to think about that for a minute. I don’t know what this means, yet, but I want to keep track of the times you have this ‘vision’ and how many times you have the dream. Write down any details you can remember as soon after the event as you can, while they are still fresh in your mind, OK? We will figure this out.”

She makes a couple of notes and then asks, “Have you told anyone else about this?”

I silently shake my head.

She nods and prods, “Are you going to? You know I can’t—and won’t.”

I shake my head and say, “I’d rather keep this between us, for now. I mean it all started after Brad knocked the cotton candy loose in my head.”

She gives me a funny look.

I just grin lop-sidedly back at her.

Bam! Two can play at the mind game thing!

I shrug, “I mean… I think he just messed with my head. I hope it will pass, so there’s no sense making a big deal of it, right?”

She shakes her head, “Well, no, I don’t think it’s ‘nothing’—but, we do need to establish what it is and I understand your hesitation to bring this to others’ attentions, for now. At least you’re talking to me about it. At some point, if it doesn’t just ‘go away’, as you so eloquently put it, I will be urging you to talk to others to maybe help explain it. However, it will still be your choice.”

I nod.

She looks at her watch, “Our time for today is up, Chrissie. You have my private number. Use it if you need to—I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or on the weekend, OK? And I may bring in my friend in our session after Christmas, OK?”

I nod again and she rises and gives me a girly-hug.

I check the room—no pink cotton candy anywhere.

Should I be worried at that?

I leave her office with a sigh and see Mom waiting for me in the waiting area. She smiles and I wave at Jeannette on the way out. Jeannette waves back and says, “You look really cute today, Chrissie. I love that top!”

Bam! Pink cotton candy is stuck all over everything!

Whew! I was getting a little worried there… I mean, I am a guy—right?

---

The rest of the weekend is pretty quiet. We all wrap our presents and put them under the tree. As I finish up the one for Barbie and start on Jill’s, I suddenly have a panicked thought.

I go find Mom and ask, “Ummm, Mom… You don’t think that Mitsi, Kate, and Sara will get me anything, do you? I mean me getting something for Jill—and Barbie is a given, but… I mean, I don’t get girl’s rules on these things. It’s so much easier with guys. Well, I think—not that I really know, I guess.”

O!M!G! I’m chattering!

Mom smiles, “Slow down, Hon! Does it matter if they get you anything? If you want to get them something?”

I look at her. I think there is cotton candy that is running out my nose—the pressure in my head has gotten high enough to liquify the stuff and I’m hemorrhaging it out my nose. It’s pushing on the backs of my eyes—I can feel it! Soon, it will be leaking out there, too! Like some weird Cotton Candy Ebola—‘CCbola’. I wonder if it’s contagious and I’ll be quarantined? Worse! Is it treatable?!?!

I shake my head to get these weird feelings under control and say in a low voice, almost a whisper, “Well, I don’t want them to feel bad. If I get them something and they don’t get me anything—or vice versa—won’t that, like violate some girl-code, or something?”

Mom smiles impishly, “Is that Jimmy or Chrissie asking?”

“Mo…o…o…ooom! You know what I mean!” I know that comes out in a whine, along with liquified pink cotton candy goo that is now splattered all over the walls.

I hope she doesn’t make me clean that up!

She tones down the imp and shrugs, “Why don’t you just get them something and then see what happens?”

I sigh. Getting something for Jill has always been easy. We’ve always gotten each other a gag gift—and this year is no different. Barbie was a little tougher, but with Mom’s help, I found her a cute heart-shaped necklace at Frostings that is similar to mine—well, Chrissie’s—oh bosh! You know what I mean!

What would I get these girls? Mom is right, would I get them a gift as Chrissie—or as Jimmy. I mean, we really haven’t even gotten together as a group with me as Chrissie. Detention was always my excuse for that.

And I’m not really looking forward to it—whenever it happens. I just think it will be awkward.

Anyway, I get an epiphany when I think about what I do know about our common ground, with the limited knowledge I have.

“Mom, can you drop me off at the Dragon’s Tooth for a bit?”

She gives me a really funny look and then says, “Sure? Give me twenty minutes and I can drive you over.”

---

So, Christmas is on Saturday, this year and Christmas Eve is a big family thing, for us. So, Jill gets it all set up that ‘The Circle’ will be meeting at her house on Thursday for a sleepover.

What? Yes, that includes me—well, Chrissie-me.

What’s that? Are you crazy? No, I’m not sleeping over. I will be heading home sometime during the night.

And before you even ask, yes, I’m nervous. I just hope it won’t be awkward. And, yes, I’m totally glad that I got those presents.

I walk over to her house at around four in the afternoon. I’m wearing a pair of the leggings and a comfortable sweater. Jill had said to come in comfortable clothes, so this is the best I’ve got. I’m not wearing a bra, though. I have my bag with the presents in it and go in without knocking, like always. I hang up my coat—yes, the pink one—and see that I must be the last to arrive, since the closet is full of other coats.

I walk into the kitchen and Mitsi lets out a little scream! She says, “Oh, Chrissie! You scared me! I didn’t hear the doorbell!”

I give her a curious look and Jill giggles, “Ummm… Chrissie just comes in here—like I just go in over there. It’s always been that way for us.”

Mitsi smiles and comes over to give me a hug, followed by Kate, Sara, and finally Barbie.

What follows is strange, but at least not awkward, I guess. I mean, when I’m Chrissie and over here studying, it’s mostly ‘business’. Sure, I would get pulled into those topsy-turvy, inside-out, forward-backward, weird girl conversations during the studying, but we were still pretty focused.

This is totally different—I’m fully immersed in pink-cotton-candy-land!

Of the girls here, outside Jill and Barbie, Mitsi is the only one that has actually met ‘Chrissie’ and Sara and Kate are quick to start treating me more like a girl than they normally do at school when we’re at lunch together.

I guess I should have expected it, but then again, why should I have? After less than an hour, I’m headed back home to put on a bra and something less comfortable. Sara and Kate ‘just have to’ to see in my more girly mode.

I sigh as I put on the bra and then my skirt. I guess it’s a good thing that I just shaved my legs last night.

What? So, sue me! It feels nice!

What? My underarms? Well, yeah… I did those, too… And, no—not because it feels nice.

What? Why, then? I…don’t really know… I guess… O!M!G! Just go away! Will you?

Anyway, I put the same sweater back on and grab my flats. I’ll be hanged if I’m going to wear heels—none of them are!

Mom smiles and hugs me before I tromp back out into the cold with a grumble.

I go back in and Sara and Kate are right there at the door waiting for me.

Kate exclaims, “Chrissie! You look awesome, girl! Why would you ever dress any other way—that tomboy look just doesn’t suit you!”

Sara nods and says, “You’re gorgeous! Come on, Kate’s going to do your makeup and I’m going to do your nails!”

They each have an arm and are pulling me towards the kitchen. I come to a sudden halt and they nearly pull my arms out. “I don’t know, girls. You know I only do this for Barbie’s sake. There isn’t any need for me to go that far.”

Kate’s face falls, “OK, I guess we were getting a little carried away and steamrolling you. But, would you let us—just to see?”

Sara gives me a pouty-face and says, “Look, we know you like to do your eyes—you’ve already admitted to that. Give this a try. If you don’t like it, we’ll never bring it up again.”

I sigh, “That’s what I’m afraid of—that I will like it!”

They giggle and know they’ve won.

Pink goo sprays all over the wall—hemorrhaging from every pore in my body. Can girls get CCbola, I wonder?

I sit there at Jill’s vanity, after completely washing my face, and experience the feel of foundation for the first time in my life.

What? No—I’ve never wanted to feel it! But, I can’t say it feels bad–just…foreign.

What’s that? No! I’m am a guy!

I think…

I sit there while Kate dabs and spreads the foundation—of course, I have no idea what that is until she tells me—on my face.

I suddenly get that feeling—I know I’m about to have another ‘vision’. I brace myself and grab the edge of the vanity.

It passes pretty quickly, but the girls all notice.

I now know that ‘foundation’ is to even out skin tone—and that I don’t really need much with my complexion. Whatever that means? But I figure it is hiding most of the blood-loss in my face.

Even so, Kate exclaims, “Chrissie! What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost!”

I sigh and shake my head. I say, “It’s nothing. I mean, somehow this just seems…wrong.”

Sara takes my hand and says, “Hon, you were OK with it a minute ago. What happened? We really aren’t trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do. We honestly thought you would like it.”

I sigh and feel my hands tremble. Pictures of girls taunting me flood my brain. I force them out by focusing on Sara’s face and wail, “That’s the problem! I think I do—but, I shouldn’t!”

Jill says, “Bull! It’s like that time with my panties!”

I look at her like she’s crazy. I ask, “What does that have to do with anything? I mean, yes, it’s what got ‘Chrissie’ started, but I am…working through my feelings on that. And, yes, just so the rest of you know, I admit it! I wear panties all the time now!”

I get this group-indifferent ‘So what?’ look and groan.

Jill says, “I’m not talking about a few weeks ago! I’m talking about when we were in Kindergarten. You borrowed a pair of my panties back then and told me you were going to wear them because they were nicer than yours. I happily gave them to you. You brought them back to me the next day and told me to put them in the wash—but to never talk of it again. You looked scared. I never said anything to anyone and I didn’t ask—although, I’ve always wondered. Ever since I was five.”

Now, I know she’s crazy! I never borrowed any panties from her!

“Jill, I love you like a sister, but I think you must be remembering a dream of some sort…”

I gasp… A dream!

It all comes flooding back…

The panties. Wearing them to school the next day. We were in a K-5 at the time. I didn’t get a chance to tell Jill that I was wearing them; she was sick that day. I didn’t tell anyone—not even my parents. It was Jillie’s and my secret. But, Joey Hanson found out. He saw them when we were in the bathroom. Joey was in third grade. I was in Kindergarten.

My life that day was a living hell—courtesy of the third grade.

Oh, they were careful not to let the teachers catch on to their bullying.

Somehow, I blanked out the memory.

I look in the mirror and see the tears streaming down my face and the very concerned faces of five girls surrounding me.

I whisper, “I need to talk to Dr. Myers.”

I don’t even notice Mitsi grabbing her phone and quietly talking on it.

Jillie and Barbie are hugging me and I don’t process whatever it is they are saying.

I just feel like all the cotton candy deflated in my head—and me with it.

I feel…sad about that.

Mitsi grabs my hands and says, “Mama will be here in ten minutes. We don’t live far and she just got home.”

I shake my head and can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face.

I check—they’re not pink.

---

Mitsi brings her mother into Jill’s room, where I am still sitting at the vanity with tear-streaked foundation dabbed on my face, and she asks the girls to leave us alone for a minute.

I look at her and wail, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

She comes over and gives me a hug and shushes me, “It’s OK, Hon. Now, what’s this all about? Mitsi is very confused and couldn’t really give me any insight.”

I sigh and take a deep, trembling breath. I look at her and tell her about the ‘vision’ and finish with, I guess it wasn’t a vision?”

She shakes her head and says, “No, Hon. It seems they were flashbacks of a repressed memory. Do you mind if I bring in Jill?”

I shake my head and she pokes hers out and quietly says something. Jill comes back in with her and sits down next to me, taking my hand in hers, confused and her eyes full of questions.

Dr. Myers says, “Jill, you remember giving Jimmy those panties so long ago?”

She seems shocked and nods, “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

Dr. Myers asks, “You were sick the day Jimmy wore them, right?”

She thinks back and slowly nods, “Yes, I gave them to Jimmy and I guess he wore them the next day. It was our little secret. He really liked the way they were softer than his and…the colors and patterns. This is hard to remember everything, but, I had a slight fever the next morning and couldn’t go to school. The fever was over by lunch and so Jimmy was allowed to come over after school—he gave me the panties back and told me to put them in the wash, so I suppose he wore them. He made me promise to never say anything about them again. He was…different…after that. I think that is when we got to be even better friends and he sort of shunned everyone else. The kids at school—the older ones—would give him a hard time when no one else was around. I never knew what it was about.”

She nods and I think I’m going to die. The humility of that year pressing down on me. Forgetting was such bliss.

Dr. Myers asks, “Chrissie, is it OK to let the others in now?”

I sigh and close my eyes, “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know anything, right now.”

Jill squeezes my hand and Dr. Myer says, “I think your support group is there for you and I think you need them. Once we get you settled, I will talk to your parents and we will see where we go from there. OK?”

I silently nod. Drained.

She gets up and lets the others in—all of them clearly confused.

She quietly lets them know what is going on after confirming with me that it is OK. There are a lot of gasps and Mitsi asks, “So, what does this mean, Mama?”

Dr. Myers says, “Well, Chrissie—or Jimmy—and I have a lot of talking to do. I will bring in a friend that is much better at these types of traumas than I am, but we will figure it out. All I can say at this point is that I am fairly certain that Jimmy has long had Chrissie in him and now we need to figure out what that means. Chrissie, what I am also fairly certain that this means is that you should feel no confusion about the enjoyment that you were experiencing at Kate putting that makeup on you.”

She gives me a pointed look, “Are you OK with me going next door and talking to your parents? I will be right next door.”

I take a deep breath and actually feel better. Better than I have felt in a long time.

I nod and she gives me a hug and asks Jill to come downstairs with her.

Barbie looks at me, still confused, “So, you’re as messed up as me? What a pair we make!”

I look at her and feel an odd warmth, “So, we’re a pair are we? As in couple?”

She giggles, “Well as messed up as we both are, it seems reasonable don’t you think? I mean you are my doll, after all—maybe more so than we thought?”

I shake my head, “I don’t know. Would that be bad?”

She smiles, “No, I don’t think so.”

The others are quietly taking in the exchange. Finally, Mitsi breaks in, “OK, you two—you need to get your own room! But, I still am confused about some things, Chrissie.”

Jill walks back in at that moment and says, “Me, too. So, that whole ordeal is why you became a loner? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

I sigh, “I don’t know, Jillie. I was so traumatized by the whole thing, I guess, that I blocked it all out. I remember now thinking that I couldn’t trust boys or girls because they all attacked me that year. By the next year, I guess they were all over it and I just completely blocked it out. But, I could never trust anyone but you.”

Sara quips, “Jillie?”

Jill giggles, “It’s what he used to call me, before… I haven’t heard that in a long time…” Her voice trails off in nostalgia.

Kate looks at me and asks, “So…makeover?”

I sit there and reflect. Yes, I’m drained.

What? You wouldn’t be?

But, I have friends—as in plural…

Are you paying attention? Plural—as in more than one!

Err… Where was I?

Right. I have friends for the first time that I can remember.

I know the cotton candy is gone—forever. But, I am actually glad about that! I…ummm…don’t like cotton candy.

What? So, sue me! Like you do?

I’m, ummmm, quite happy with the warm, soft pink angora bunnies moving in, in its place.

I smile, “I guess I need to wash my face again?”

Sara giggles and Kate nods.

I just get back to the vanity when my phone buzzes.

I look at the Caller ID and say, “I have to take this, guys.” I answer, “Hi, Mom.”

“Jimmy…Chrissie… Whoever! Are you OK, Hon? Do you want to come home? Dr. Myers is still here.”

I feel the pink bunny cuddle around my brain. “No, Mom. I’m fine—for now. I do want to talk—later. But, is it OK if I spend some time with my friends? I would really like that.”

There is the slightest of pauses, then, “Of course, Sweetie. Have fun. We’ll talk tomorrow. Your father and I love you. You know that, right?”

I giggle.

What? Don’t even start!

“Yes, Mom. I know. I love you, too.” I look up and see Mrs. Holiday standing in the door with a concerned look on her face. I say, “Mom, I think maybe Mrs. Holiday would like to talk?” She nods and I hand her my phone. She leaves the room and I look back at Kate and smile.

She starts dabbing the foundation on from my freshly-washed skin up and Mrs. Holiday comes in and hands me my phone back. She says, “Chrissie, you’re spending the night. No arguments—your Momma and I are in agreement. However, there are some rules. You and Barbie will not be…alone. OK?”

I smile and feel another furry animal animal cuddle up against my brain and start—purring. Bunnies purr? I nod and Kate starts explaining eye shadow to me.

---

I look in the mirror and can’t believe it’s me. I look…hot!

Guy? What guy?

What? Oh… I…don’t know, either. The pink bunnies in my head are having bunnies!

Barbie says, “O!M!G! My girlfriend is hot! I mean…” She blushes…

I blush right back!

I can’t say I have ever been as surprised when she kisses me… On the mouth… And not just a fleeting peck. I think her tongue licks out my stomach!

I was mistaken! The fuzzy, warm things in my brain aren’t bunnies…

They are most certainly…pink Tribbles!!!

I look down and see the imaginary red shirt that I have on turn pink!

I think I taste her stomach, too.

I think I’m bleeding pink!

The other girls all make annoying noises and Jill says, “OK, remember Mom’s rule, you two! We still have presents to open!”

After we have pizza and eggnog, a ‘Circle’ tradition I’m told, we go to the living room to open presents. Jillie and I wind up exchanging ours in the first round and both giggle at our respective gag gifts. I hold up my babydoll negligee that I am to sleep in tonight to the oohs and aahs of the others. She holds up her three very naughty thong panties that I got her to replace the three-pack of panties she had given me—I blush.

The second round I get Mitsi and I hand her my gift. I’m totally nervous! She opens the package and looks at it in surprise, then gives me a bright smile in response. She shows the first edition, first of the series Manga novel to the girls and pouts that she won’t know what happens after. The others agree with her—until they each get first editions of the rest of the series; one of the series for each girl.

I had no idea what to get any of them, except they all showed a little interest in my graphic novels. I had no idea if it was real, or not, but I took a chance. It seems it paid off!

As for me, I get a complete eye makeup set from Kate, everything I need for a manicure from Sara, and a certificate for a year-long membership at Mitsi’s dojo for self-defense lessons from her. I have to laugh at the last one. I hug them all and then get nervous again, when I am in the round with Barbie.

She opens my necklace and breaks out in tears as she asks me to put it on her. She asks, “JC?”

I smile and tell her the engraving stands for Jimmy Christine. She giggles and I know I now have a new nickname.

I open hers and blink. It’s a beautiful set of dangly, pierced earrings—diamonds. Well, I’m sure cubic zirconia. And a coupon for getting my ears pierced at Frostings.

I look at her, confused. She smiles and says, “I just knew you wanted them pierced. I don’t know how, but…”

We taste each other’s tonsils again and I wonder how we’re ever going to pick up all the Tribbles that are exploding from my brain!

What? The original James T. isn’t the only one that has to deal with the little suckers! Care to help?

After Sara does my nails, including my fingernails—my toes are a hot pink, while my fingers are a soft, nude pink that you can’t really tell is on them—we all get into our pajamas and I experience wearing the soft, silky sleepwear of the girly-world for the first time—even if I do keep panties on under the babydoll bottoms to remain tucked.

Barbie and I snuggle up together on the couch and Jill turns on the ‘Squallmark’ Channel to watch the non-stop Christmas movies, certain to make the most hardened criminal squall like a baby.

---

I help make the pancakes the next morning and gather my things to walk home. I hug all of my now true new friends.

What? So what if they’re girls?

I give Barbie a kiss when no one is looking—then another when they are.

I walk home and find Mom and Dad both sitting in the kitchen drinking their coffee. I give them a hug and yawn, “Good morning!”

Now, I’ve never been a coffee drinker, but we didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so I pour a cup and add lots of cream and sugar and sit down with them—knowing they want to talk.

I’m not really looking forward to going through it all, again, but know that they deserve—and need—answers to their questions. As much as I do.

I take a sip of the coffee, grimace, and add some more cream.

I sigh and Mom looks at me with the worry still clear in her eyes, “Did you have fun last night, Hon?”

I nod, “After things settled down, yes, it was a lot of fun. I mean…it was very girly, but they treated me like a friend—a true friend. Other than with Jillie, I’ve never really had that. I wouldn’t…let myself…”

I see Mom smile and I realize I had called Jill, ‘Jillie’, again.

Dad looks at me and says, “Dr. Myers told us some of what happened and placated our fears enough that we let you stay over there last night. Especially because Dr. Myers said she thought it would be good for you. But, if you’re up to it, I’d like to hear it from you. What’s going on, Son?”

I look down at my pink cashmere sweater and giggle at that. He grimaces. “Sorry, Dad. You have to admit that’s kind of funny.”

He sighs, “Are you still my son? Not that I care about that, you know?”

I nod, then shake my head, “I don’t know, Dad. I think so, but I am pretty confused, right now. What I do know is that last night—for the first time since I was in Kindergarten—I felt freed from my own prison. One I didn’t even realize I had put myself in.”

Mom reaches over and hugs me.

I feel tears start to well in my eyes, but, I’m sort of cried out and they just dry up before they can spill over onto my face. I sigh, “I’m remembering more and more of what happened back then; although, the memories are still a little fuzzy. I mean, I was just five after all—and I don’t have Barbie’s eidetic memory. She can remember everything back to when she was two, clear as a bell!”

I take another sip of the coffee and find myself getting more used to the taste—kind of like this pink sweater. I guess it grows on you.

“What I can remember is that I borrowed a pair of Jillie’s Disney Princess panties—I don’t remember which movie. Belle, I think. Anyway, I was proud and was going to tell you both after school. I knew it wasn’t ‘normal’ for me to wear them, but Jillie didn’t see the big deal—and neither did I. It was going to be our secret for the day. Then she got that fever…”

I take another sip of coffee and close my eyes, “It was the bigger kids that tormented and harassed me. They were good little bullies, too. They made sure that no one was around to find out and report it to the teacher—nor, that there was a teacher around to witness it. They threatened to tell everyone if I told—and, by then, I had gotten the message that wouldn’t be a good thing.”

I sigh, “It wasn’t just boys, either. The girls were almost meaner.”

Mom squeezes me tighter in her hug.

“So, I decided to give the panties back to Jillie and never do anything like that again. I kept telling myself that I was a guy. It became my mantra and soon began to sort of sink in, I guess. I never said anything to anyone and soon the bullies moved on. And I made myself forget it ever happened according to Dr. Myers—she called it ‘repressing’ the memory, or something like that.”

I drain the cup of coffee and Dad gets up, shocked, I can tell, and pours us all more.

“When I had a legitimate reason to start wearing girl’s things again it started slowly bringing back the pain. I kept beating myself up about it. I kept telling myself that I was a guy. It was important to me to keep that wall up around the pain—and convincing myself of being a ‘guy’ is…was the glue holding it all together. Then Brad pounded the crap out of me—and the glue fell to pieces. Even Dr. Myers doesn’t know, yet, what that ultimately did to crack the memories wide open, but I started having flashbacks and dreams after that.”

I toy with the cream and pour a bunch in my coffee and stir absent-mindedly. “Then, last night, the camaraderie and increasing…joy of the makeup brought it all to a head.”

I sigh and look at them—with only a little terror in my eyes. “And now you know as much as I do.”

Mom squeezes me again, hard. She says, “OK, Hon. Obviously, you will continue with your sessions with Rita—Dr. Myers. She is also going to bring in a friend of hers that specializes in gender issues—at least until we understand the depth of this better. But, are you OK? For now, I mean? She offered to come over today and talk some more—if you need it.”

I shake my head and say, “No, Mom. I don’t need that. She deserves her Christmas and I want us to enjoy ours. I get it may be awkward at times, but I’m…OK…”

Dad nods and says, “OK. Do you want to help me fry the turkey—or help your mother in the kitchen?”

I smile, “Can’t I do both?”

Dad laughs and Mom giggles. The tension breaks and Dad nods, “Of course—but not in that sweater!”

Mom smiles and says, “I have a nice apron for you, Hon. Why don’t you go take a shower and then we can plan out things. Dress however you feel most comfortable.”

I hug them both and go to take a long shower.

When I come down an hour later, it’s in leggings, a comfortable top—no bra—and full makeup.

Mom just hugs me and Dad is really great about it—he actually doesn’t say a word. While I know he is struggling to get used to seeing me this way, I know he doesn’t really care--as long as it makes me happy.

I look around and hope the pink Tribbles that are all over the house don’t fall into the turkey fryer. You know that would be a mess!

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

---

What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

---

 

Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

Part Nine
I check myself in the mirror for the thousandth time.

What? Oh, sorry! It’s the first day of school after Christmas break.

What? Christmas? It was great—well, mostly. Yes, I struggled with some things, but Mom and Dad were great. I did hit a slick spot in the road when we went over to Gramma’s and Grampa’s. Let’s just say, it will take a bit longer for them to get used to the idea that Chrissie may be a part of me that doesn’t just go away.

What? Will she? O!M!G! How should I know?

Maybe…

I sort of hope not… I mean I had fun over the rest of the break with the Circle. Kate taught me all about makeup and Sara about caring for my nails. Do you have any idea how much you’re actually supposed to do with them? O!M!G! I thought you just chewed them off and that was it. It’s like with my hair and the stuff Miss Sally wants to me to do. And don’t get me started on how much work makeup is—five thousand different looks, depending on the time of day and where you’re going?

What? Barbie? O!M!G! You’re nosy! I am not going to kiss and tell! But…well, I would have to tell a lot, if I were that type of gossip!

Anyway, I look in the mirror and sigh. I check my face one last time. The eyeliner is perfect. It ought to be after all the practice I had to go through over break. It’s totally tight and very thin. The mascara is light, but definitely there—if you know to look for it. Overall, it’s understated, but my eyes pop, none-the-less. Sure, the Circle will probably notice right away. But will anyone else?

I also check to make sure the heart-shaped pendent is hidden under my shirt and the tie is covering it all.

Hopefully, my cloaking device at school will still be strong enough to maintain my invisibility.

I don’t think Spock got to the Romulan Commander, yet…

I look at the clock and sigh one more time. I had gotten up earlier than usual, this morning. I had ‘the dream’, again for the first time in two weeks, but it was not as strong—it seems my issues aren’t over yet and the pressure of going back to school is bringing them back out.

At least I slept.

Which is good, because Brad Fleming’s suspension is over today and he will be back at school.

I check the settings on my cloaking device and wade through the waste-deep pink tribbles in my room to go down for breakfast.

When I get out to the bus stop, it is freezing and I feel for Jillie in her skirt. I give her a girly sort of hug and smile, “Your legs look cold!”

She gives me a sour look, but grins afterwards and quips, “And you know you wish yours were, too!”

I blink at her, but don’t retort—the bus has arrived.

Of course, she pulls me straight back to the Circle—and I miss out on some prime Avengers time.

O!M!G! What? I like my graphic novels! So, sue me!

We get out at school and I don’t immediately break ranks with them. I go over with them to meet up with Barbie and Sara and carefully give Barbie a hug. I am back in Jimmy mode and still have to be very careful not to spook her. Sara gives me a sisterly, girly-hug, like it’s no big deal, and I blush—I feel my cloaking device weakening.

I give them a wave and move off towards the front door. I am about to go up the steps when the jocks block my way. Brad is in the background, but Greg says, “Just because you’re my girlfriend’s best friend—like some girl—doesn’t mean we aren’t going to make your life miserable, you little shit! Your days of invisibility are over. And if Jill breaks up with me over the likes of you, you little shit, then you may or may not live to regret it! You got it, you sniveling girly-boy with your long hair and makeup?”

I feel faint. At least the number of pink Tribbles around has greatly diminished. It seems Spock did get to the Commander, after all. And these jocks must certainly be Klingons the way the Tribbles are reacting.

“No, Greg!” We all turn to a furious Jillie standing there, her arms crossed under her breasts. “I am not breaking up with you because of Jimmy—I am breaking up with you because of you!”

He takes a step back—shocked.

Sara is standing there right next to Jillie—the look in her eye, just as furious. She shakes her head and looks at the now very pale Chad standing next to Greg, “Ditto, Chad. I am truly disappointed in you. I thought you were a better person, but, I guess once a wolf—always a wolf!”

Mitsi is standing there and visibly trembling in fury, “Don’t worry guys, you won’t have to worry about girlfriends in this school, anymore. Oh, we’ll make sure to get the word out to the other schools—and our connections to the sororities and colleges, too. Sure, there are whores out there that will take the likes of you—maybe you’ll get lucky and ‘score’ one of them.” She makes air-quotes around ‘score’.

I look at the Circle standing there in firm defense of me and am suddenly drowning in pink Tribbles—until I see Barbie standing back with a look of utter terror on her face. The confrontation with the guys is seriously messing with her.

I close my eyes, then signal Mitsi. She looks over to Barbie and rushes to her, just as Mrs. Blackthorn comes out the front door. She asks, “Is there a problem, here? If not, then I suggest that this crowd breaks up and you get to your classes immediately. Oh! And just in case there are any ideas, I have a video of the whole thing.” She glances up to the security camera above the door.

I see the guys get even paler—if that’s even possible.

As everyone is going in, the guys with their tails tucked between their legs…

What? Really? O!M!G! No! Pay attention! They’re not ‘tucked’ like me! What are you even thinking? I mean, seriously?

Anyway, as we’re going in, Mrs. Blackburn pulls Mitsi, Barbie, and me by side and looks intently at a very pale and trembling Barbie. She asks, “Mitsi, your Mom is treating Barbara, right?”

She nods and hugs Barbie closer, “Yes, Ma’am—both her and Chrissie. Sorry! I mean…”

Mrs. Blackthorn looks perplexed, then looks at me—the light going on. She nods, “Would you mind getting in touch with her. I think this qualifies as an emergency. If that’s OK with you, then…Chrissie…and I will take her to the Nurse’s Office.”

A clearly guilt-stricken Mitsi nods and says, “Yes, Ma’am, but…”

Mrs. Blackthorn says, “We’ll talk later. I think Barbie will be OK with Chrissie’s help?”

I walk carefully over to her and put my arms around her. She doesn’t shrink back, but doesn’t fully acknowledge it’s me, either. She looks at me and asks with a glazed look in her eyes, “Chrissie? Really?”

I nod and steer her towards the front offices where the nurse has her station. Mrs. Blackthorn acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world for me to be escorting her as ‘Chrissie’.

We get to the Nurse’s Station and I sit Barbie down on a chair. She has my right hand in a death-grip, clutched between both of hers. I look at Mrs. Blackthorn with clear worry and then sit down next to Barbie. The nurse is clearly out of her element and is obviously relieved when Mitsi comes in and says that her Mom is on her way and will be here in fifteen minutes. She sits down on the other side of Barbie, who breaks down on her shoulder and lets go of my hands when she throws her arms around Mitsi’s neck.

Mrs. Blackthorn quietly motions for me to follow her into the hallway and asks, “Jimmy, I am not telling you to let me know what this about, but I am asking.

I sigh and nod. I give her the nutshell version—about a hazelnut’s worth—of how I have been helping Barbie. She is still processing that when Dr. Myers comes in and we follow her back in to the Nurse’s Station. She takes one look at Barbie, then back at me, “Jimmy, I think we need Chrissie. The full Chrissie. I know from Mitsi that you two are an item and I think she needs you now, more than anyone.”

Mrs. Blackthorn asks, “What do you mean?”

I sigh and ask, “Can I borrow a school uniform—I mean a girl’s one? I know you have spares for emergencies. Like you said earlier, I think this qualifies as an emergency.”

She gives us a bewildered look and nods.

I follow her, totally worried…

What? Get real! No! I’m not worried about dressing in the uniform! O!M!G! I’m worried about my girlfriend! Seriously! Get a clue, will you?!

We go to a side room in the front office and there are a number of uniforms for both boys and girls hanging there in a closet for those occasions when they are needed—say someone spills lunch all over themselves, or something…

What? It’s the best example I could up with on short notice! So, sue me! You have a better one?

Anyway, I find a uniform in my size and Mrs. Blackthorn says, “The only problem is, we have extra stockings, but not shoes. We don’t keep those.”

I look down at my boy’s dress shoes—and she follows my gaze. Then she shocks me when she asks, “Do you know your size—I mean woman’s size?”

I nod and say, “It’s a six-and-a-half, medium. Why?”

She smiles and says, “That just so happens to be my size and I have extra shoes in my…office…” Her face falls, “But, they’re all heels. I don’t think it would matter that they aren’t regulation Mary-Janes, but…”

I sigh, “If you’re worried about whether I can walk in them, don’t… I can—although, I’ve never tried anything higher than three inches.”

The Tribbles are getting dangerously close to turning back into cotton candy.

She nods, “Well, I don’t have anything here under four, but, if you can seriously handle three, then four should be fine for no longer than you should need them.”

She leaves the room for me to change and when she comes back in after I am in the full girl’s uniform, sans the stockings…

What? You think I am going to put on a pair of heels with knee-high socks on? O!M!!G!!! Even I know that won’t work!

Anyway, she hands me a pair of open-toed black pumps with a four-inch stiletto heel. She looks at me and shakes her head. I had let my hair down and was absent-mindedly combing through it with my fingers.

“If I didn’t know…,” she lets the thought drop and I put the shoes on. They fit perfectly and my hot-pink toenails peek out the peepholes in front. They’re cute! I wade out the room of neck-deep pink Tribbles.

What? Don’t even start with me! I don’t have time to debate this! Barbie needs me and you’re seriously worried about the fact that I think my toes are cute? O! M! G!

I follow Mrs. Blackthorn back down the hall to the Nurse’s Station. I am certainly conscious of the near synchronous clicking of our heels on the marble floors—echoing loudly in the long, empty hallway.

I see her looking at me out of the side of her eye and can’t help but grin a bit as I am walking every bit as perfectly in them as she is. If I only had a mirror, I would see a grin that looks a lot like the impish one my Mom gets.

We go into the Nurse’s Station and Barbie sees me. She jumps up and comes over and hugs me and kisses me deeply. She exclaims, “Oh, Chrissie! It was terrible! They were ganging up on your friend, Jimmy and I was so afraid…you were going to get hurt!”

She staggers back and sits down heavily.

Dr. Myers says, “Can Barbie, Chrissie and I have the room alone, please?”

The others leave as I go and sit down next to Barbie and take her hand in my left and stroke her hair with my right. She just looks at me with a mix of infatuation and confusion.

Dr. Myers says, “Barbie, are you OK? I think you just realized something, didn’t you?”

She is still looking at me—not in revulsion, not really in shock, but a little in pain, “Chrissie—you’re Jimmy. I…I…I… I knew…but, I couldn’t…”

She breaks down and sobs. I pull her head to my shoulder and keep stroking her hair as she soaks my borrowed blazer—all the way through to my borrowed blouse.

Finally, she stops and looks back up at me. I give her a worried look.

What? Of course, I’m worried if she’s still my girlfriend after this—but that’s not all I’m worried about. I may be a guy—but I’m not that shallow!

She stretches up and kisses me. It’s not the same as before—there is hesitation there, but, it’s with the knowledge that she’s kissing me. Whoever that is…

She takes a shaky breath and does her best to steady it. Then she looks at Dr. Myers and says, “What does this mean?”

Dr. Myers shakes her head and says, “We’ll have to explore that, Hon, but I think it may mean that you’ve had a major breakthrough, today. Do you want me to get you excused for the rest of the day?”

She looks at me and then back at her, “No, I think I am OK… If I can freshen up, first.”

When Dr. Myers bring Mrs. Blackthorn back in, she actually giggles, “Hon, that’s not a problem. You can use the staff bathroom right around the corner—assuming you have what you need?”

Barbie smiles wanly and says, “It’s in my purse…”

Mitsi giggles nervously and holds it up for her, having followed Mrs. Blackthorn in.

Then Mrs. Blackthorn says, “Chrissie, Jimmy, whoever, I think you might want to freshen up, too? I’m not sure you’re going for the raccoon look?”

I gasp.

What? No! I’m not going for that look! But, that’s not what I gasp about!

“Mrs. Blackthorn, about Chrissie…” I shrug. I don’t know where to go with it. Barbie is already in the bathroom and Mitsi is helping her.

Dr. Myers looks at Mrs. Blackthorn, “Jimmy-slash-Chrissie is under my official care, as well as under Dr. Gina McMasters’ later this week. We’re still evaluating all of this, but, I don’t think Jimmy is ready for Chrissie to be a known fact here at school. Am I right, Jimmy?”

I sigh and nod. Mrs. Blackthorn nods and says, “Understood. Just remember Jimmy, Chrissie is always welcome, should she wish to come.”

I see the pink Tribbles pour into her mouth as she’s talking, they are so deep.

I nod, and feel that impish grin form, “You do realize that Jimmy and Chrissie are the same, right Mrs. Blackthorn? I’m sure Dr. Myers can help explain…”

She sputters, “Well, of course…!”

I wink and say, “I don’t think Chrissie will come out, unless she can continue wearing your heels!”

She sputters some more, then breaks down laughing, “Oh! You little imp! You got me! Go change and fix that makeup. Boy or girl, if you’re going to wear it, it has to be to code!”

I wink at her and swim through the pink Tribbles back to her office to change. I barely make it before the bell rings and the hallways are flooded with students that would have seen me in a skirt!

I sigh.

Crisis avoided!

Yeah… Right!

---

The jocks leave me alone the rest of the day. If looks could kill, the whole table of us at lunch would be dead, though.

What? Oh, yeah… I’m sitting with the Circle.

What? Of course, I’m dressed as Jimmy!

What? Oh, right… Yeah, well, Barbie is sitting across from me and keeps giving me shy, confused looks—but, she’s not bolting. She even rubs my leg under the table with her foot on one occasion.

Anyway, the jocks give us all glares set on ‘kill’. The thing is, they seem to be the ones wearing red today.

Now, the looks I get from other tables are another matter… They range from total shock to complete envy. Yeah, my cloaking device is certainly fried now.

I also sit with the Circle on the ride home and Barbie sits next to me. She hesitantly takes my hand at one point—and doesn’t let it go the rest of the ride.

When we get off, it’s together. For the first time ever, I get off the bus with Jillie.

Barbie squeezes my hand and says, “Chrissie…um, Jimmy… Oh, bosh! I’m sticking with Jacie! Anyway, I am looking forward to studying with you. I’m getting more and more used to you in this…getup. But, I much prefer you in your more comfortable clothes. You are going to get…comfortable, right?”

I smile and say, “You know I am, Barbie. I am just glad that you’re now able to stand me looking like this. I’m not ready to do anything different at school. I don’t know that I ever will be…”

She nods and gives me a quick kiss, then she hurries off after Jillie.

I go into the house and sigh. I wade through the Tribbles to my room and wonder what to wear. It’s been such a weird day—but, the main progress made between me—the actual me, whoever that may be—and Barbie was in a skirt.

So, I pull out a warm lined woolen skirt and slip it on. I decide to go all-out and put on a bra and my forms, then a warm sweater. I put on my warm, comfortable boots and redo my makeup. I even add a little eyeshadow—just for the heck of it. I put on a second coat of lip gloss, smack my lips and look at myself in the mirror…

Who am I? I mean, really? This isn’t what a guy does? Err…right?

I shake my head, grab my purse, go downstairs, and put on my warm, pink coat. I grab my books and hold them close to my chest as I walk across the yard to Jillie’s.

Anyone looking at me would see a young teenage girl walking across the yard, holding her books to her chest in the typical way a girl does. I don’t even realize I’m doing it…

What? Don’t go there! I was thinking, not paying attention!

Anyway, I go in and Barbie nearly knocks me over when she hugs me and gives me a deep kiss. If this is what it takes to get a kiss like that, then skirts it is!!!

What? Like you wouldn’t?

Really? I mean… I’m… Oh, bosh!

---

The week goes by without any huge incidents. My invisibility is gone, and I find myself in a strange new status. I am in with the hot girls—the ones that don’t have boyfriends, anymore. I gain a certain popularity through that—but, that also means that I am not just no longer invisible. I am now fully visible and at the center of a lot of people’s attention.

The jocks? Well, they find themselves completely unable to get girlfriends. I don’t understand it, but it seems there is some girl-code-thing. The word spreads like wildfire and they are suddenly pariahs—everywhere. It will be a long while before they get over this hump and find someone that’s willing to be seen with them.

That doesn’t mean that they don’t still have a following at school—they are the jocks, after all. And, I am starting to get strange looks from some of the guys—the ones that aren’t trying to get me to hook them up with one of the ‘hot girls’…

The dynamic within the Circle has changed, too. With the girls not having to worry about going out or doing things with their boyfriends, discussion topics shift. Some of it is about boys… Not about what stupid thing their boyfriends did—or didn’t do. No, now it’s all about which boy is cute.

I may be on the Chrissie side of Jacie when with the girls—and totally treated like Chrissie—but, the Jimmy side is able to give them perspectives that are new to them.

Not that I have the best ‘guy’ perspectives. I mean I used to think I was a guy. Now, I’m not so sure. I have no idea what I am.

What? You do? Really? So, you’re a shrink, are you? OK, then, smarty-pants, you tell me! I sure want to know!

So, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when they all want to go to the mall Sunday, after church. I don’t have a lot of arguments that I can put up—other than, going as Chrissie, which is what they want, would now put Jimmy even more in danger of being recognized if we run into anyone from school.

What? You don’t get it? Really? O!M!G! Let me spell it out for you, then. Jimmy eats with the girls and is often seen with them in other settings, like on the bus—so, if suddenly Chrissie shows up with them at the mall and someone recognizes Jimmy, then… Bam! Another blackeye—or worse.

What? Why not go as Jimmy? You tell me! The girls want Chrissie. And, to be honest—so do I.

Sort of…

O!M!G! Don’t give me that! I…like spending time with them, but not as full-on Jimmy. And androgynous Jimmy certainly isn’t going to the mall with a gaggle of giggling girls! Are you crazy?!?!

Barbie looks at me on the bus, “Jacie, you haven’t changed your mind, right? You’re coming, dressed comfortably.”

That’s her code for being dolled-up.

She gives me a pouty look, “You promised you would use your coupon and I really want you to come.”

I sigh, “I will see what I can figure out, Barbie. But, I’m still afraid that I will be found out. I mean that story about Chrissie being Jimmy’s cousin is lame—and will only go so far, anyway.”

She smiles, “I just know you can figure out something. We can talk to Dr. Myers tomorrow—and you have a session with that new doctor, too. She’s supposed to be an expert in these things.”

I sigh and nod, “I also have an appointment with Miss Sally, tomorrow. Maybe she will have some ideas…”

I look at Barbie in thought—she is somehow acting differently towards me. Things have been different since the ‘Jock-Incident’—I just can’t seem to fully put my finger on what it is. She is somehow closer to me, but somehow getting more distant at the same time.

What? No, she’s putting up a good front. What? Call it intuition—if I do have ‘girl’ in me, then I must have some woman’s intuition, too. Err… Right?

---

I look at Miss Sally in the mirror as she combs through my wet and conditioned hair. I still am not used to having someone else wash my hair for me. She smiles back at me and says, “Your hair is in much better shape, Hon. Good work. I can also tell that you’re taking better care of your skin, too. It’s looking much better. I actually have some vitamins that I would recommend you start taking, overall, for your hair, skin, and nails. Actually, they’re the same as your Momma takes.”

I nod, distracted. I look at her, suddenly timid, and say, “Ummm…Miss Sally, I have a problem.”

She looks back at me and sort of lightly smacks my shoulder and says, “Hon, you’re old enough to just call me Sally. So, what’s your problem?”

I look at Mom in the mirror, then at…Sally and say, “Well, I’m not sure Mom would agree with you, Miss Sally, but thank you. As for my problem…well…”

I let her know about my upcoming trip to the mall tomorrow.

She smiles back at me and calls Mom over, “Cindy, please tell your…daughter…that…she can call me ‘Sally’—or your son, whichever is more appropriate!”

Mom comes over and says, “Son or daughter, doesn’t matter Sally. I don’t think that’s right.”

Sally gives her a stern look and says, “Don’t you think that should be my decision, Cindy? I get manners, but I did invite her to.”

Mom sighs, “I’m sorry, Sally. You’re absolutely right. It’s just not a norm for our family values.”

She smiles and looks at me, “You call me Sally, Hon, and that’s that!” Then she looks at Mom and says, “So, I have some ideas for her other problem.”

Mom looks perplexed and I know I’m sunk. I hadn’t said anything to her about it…

She finally asks the inevitable, “Other problem?”

Sally gives me a ‘look’ in the mirror and I clue Mom in. She just shakes her head and asks, “Why didn’t you ask me about this, Hon?”

I shrug, “Would you have had any ideas?”

She looks pensive and giggles, “Yes! I would have said we need to ask Sally!”

The tension broken, Sally laughs and says, “Well, let’s cut your hair for this round and then I have some options. Are you, overall, happy with the cut from last time?”

I sigh, “Well, the long bangs over my eye were frustrating, but they’re finally getting to where they will mostly stay behind my ear if I tuck them. It’s not optimal, but I can live with it.”

She smiles and says, “It will get better as it gets longer. Assuming you want it longer?”

I simply nod.

She nods back, “OK, then, for tomorrow—after we get things trimmed and shaped up for today—I have some ideas. So, first, you’re OK with basically going in the same direction as we have been?”

I nod. Not sure what that ultimately means, but I don’t know what else to do.

She sighs and says, “OK. It’s getting long enough to do some things with. It will look more feminine this time—unless you put it in a ponytail. Is that what you want?”

I slowly nod. I mean it is what I want.

Err…right?

She looks at me. I mean she really looks at me and…waits.

I finally say, “Yes…Sally. Let’s see how it goes. I can always come in and have it cut if I need to, right?”

She smiles and nods, “Of course, Hon! Any time!”

I nod in confirmation.

She starts trimming my hair and says, “OK, I’m thinking maybe some colored clip-in extensions—maybe pink and blue for your blond hair—and then some colored contacts. You could also add some fake glasses on top of that?”

I look at her perplexed, “Where would I get anything like that?”

Sally laughs, “Hon, I know all kinds of people, but my sister is an optometrist here in town. She can get you set up with both in no time. Oh, I think we need to give you a bit of a wave. Are you OK with that?”

I shrug, “I don’t know… If you…and Mom…think so?”

Mom says, “Yes, I think that would look perfect. Some loose curl for body—is that what you’re thinking, Sally?”

She nods and starts putting my hair into these large curler thingies. When she is done, she pours this really stinky stuff on them and puts me under a hair-dryer-hood-thingy on a stand. While I am sitting there, she talks to Mom and then to someone on the phone.

After the little bell goes ‘ding’ on the hair dryer, she comes over and checks to see if I’m ‘cooked’—her word, not mine. It seems she is satisfied, so she takes out the curler thingies and brushes out my hair. Suddenly, it has this…wave…to it. It’s like really girly now.

I am both enthralled and terrified at the same time.

It looks awesome! But, so totally…girly…

Mom and Sally both look at me—the question clear in their eyes.

I say, “I like it! I really do. It does scare me a bit, though. How long will this last?”

Sally says, “Well, it’s a perm, Hon. Perm—as in permanent. It will last quite some time…”

I sigh and nod.

Mom says, “I think it’s lovely, Hon. If you put it in a ponytail, no one should notice. If you really hate it, there are ways to relax it, right Sally?”

Sally nods, “Yes, if you wash it several times right away, it will mostly wash out. If you leave it in for twenty-four hours, it will be set and last several months.”

I look at myself in the mirror and really like the look. It still scares me.

What? So, sue me! I am supposed to be a guy! Err…right?

Sally says, “OK, Zoe, my sister is waiting for you. She will fit you with colored contacts and some fake glasses. That should be plenty enough, together with these clip-in extensions to throw anyone off the trail of who you are.”

She takes these long hair pieces, some in pink, some in purple, and clips them into my hair—then brushes it all out, so that you can’t tell they are fake.

I look at myself in amazement. They alone make a huge difference in how I look!

I give her a hug and Mom pays. Then we go to see her sister.

An hour later, I’m ready to go to my appointment with Dr. Myers. I have near-amethyst-colored contacts in. My eyes are an electric purple color and absolutely stunning. I also have a pair of designer frames, that she got as a sample, with plain glass in them. They are pink ‘Dolce & Gabbana’ cat-eye frames that go well with my extensions and contact color.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I see a hot girl that bears a resemblance to me, but…not. I wouldn’t recognize me if my life depended on it!

I leave everything in and Mom drops me off for my appointment with Dr. Myers and Barbie.

I go in, not knowing what to expect—it’s my first real appointment after the ordeal before Christmas—and after Barbie’s breakdown. Barbie’s had forty-five minutes with her and we are getting ready to start the thirty-minute joint-session.

Suddenly, I’m nervous!

Dr. Myers does a double-take when Jeannette motions me in. Barbie just gasps and giggles uncontrollably, once she figures out it’s me.

Dr. Myers asks, “Chrissie? Care to explain?”

I grin nervously and explain the trip to the mall tomorrow. Dr. Myers nods and says, “OK. That makes sense, I guess, but this isn’t your long-term solution, right?”

I sigh and shake my head—and the joint session is over. I am certainly confused. I have no idea what to do, at this point.

Barbie whispers in my ear, as she is leaving, “Hon, You’re hot!”

She giggles and leaves the room—as a new woman comes in. I assume this must be Dr. McMasters. She is really young and beautiful.

As expected, Dr. Myers introduces the woman as Dr. McMasters. She smiles at me and says, “Why don’t you call me Gina, Hon? I find, as intimate as we’re going to have to get on some on things, that it just works better.”

I sigh—another one. I nod, “OK, Gina. It’s hard for me to call adults by their first name, so if I slip up, it’s not out of disrespect.”

She nods, “Understood. It would be quite the opposite, right?”

I nod and Dr. Myers says, “Well, then. Chrissie, how did things go over the holidays? OK?”

I nod, “For the most part. I just really don’t know who I am anymore.”

Gina speaks up, “Well, that’s what we’re going to explore, Hon. Rita has explained your history to me and we will set up some separate sessions just between the two of us, but, for now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to just answer without really thinking about it, OK? Just whatever your first instinct is, tell me. There is no right or wrong.”

I nod and she starts asking me these really strange questions about whether I can easily recognize songs, or voices on the phone. Then she asks me these convoluted questions about geometrical objects turning in space. When she is done, the Tribbles in my head are in knots. It’s easier following the Circle’s conversations than whatever that was.

When the time is about up, Gina smiles at me and says, “OK, Chrissie. We will need a weekly session, on top of your sessions with Rita—Dr. Myers—and your friend Barbie. What I have gathered, so far, indicates to me that you certainly have a strong feminine side and are very well likely to be transgendered—at least to some extent. We will need to explore that much more. It’s nothing to be ashamed of—or afraid of. I’m here to help you figure it out, OK?”

I sigh. Just what I need—more questions. So, I’m not a guy?

“OK, Gina. Sure. But are saying that I’m not really a guy?”

She shakes her head and says, “No, I’m not saying that, Chrissie—or Jimmy. What I’m saying is that gender is fluid and we need to figure out where you lie on the spectrum between male and female. You most certainly lie more on the female than male side—that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re a ‘girl’. We will have a lot of time to talk through this. OK? Don’t fret about it. Can you meet with me during the week? My office is not far from your school and I could even come meet with you there during a study hall.”

I let her know when my study hall is and she says, “OK, I will talk to your school nurse and your principal and see if we can set something up for Tuesdays. OK?”

I nod and they both give me a hug.

I leave the office and go out to the receptionist area. My head feels like a level-six space storm is raging in there.

Mom drives me home and I just sit there. She doesn’t ask questions, knowing that I need to process things. When we get home, she helps me take out the extensions and I let her know what Gina had said.

She hugs me from behind, then starts brushing out my hair—something I love when she does. She says, “Love, you know that you just have to be who you are. Stop trying to force yourself into some preconceived mold. Your Dad and I love you—no matter what.”

I sigh and turn and give her a big hug.

---

When we get home from church, I quickly go to my room and change into jeans and a sweater. Of course, I have my bra on, with breast forms inserted, and I put on my comfortable boots with the two-inch wedge heel. Then Mom helps me clip in the extensions and brush them out, before I put in the contacts.

What? Yeah—that takes me a while. Being new to contacts, and all. I finally do get them in and still marvel at having purple eyes when I look in the mirror. I look completely different.

I put on my makeup and even add the flicks that Kate had made me practice. I add the glasses and check myself in the mirror. If Jimmy was gone before when Chrissie was around, then Jacie makes Chrissie disappear to the same extent. There is very little of Jimmy visible, at this point.

Mom peeks in and smiles, “Lunch is ready, Hon, then Betty will drive you and Jill to the mall. Are you sure you’re ready to get your ears pierced?”

I sigh and nod, “I think so, Mom. I mean, even as Jimmy I should be OK these days. Right?”

She shakes her head and says, “Oh no, you don’t, young lady! You’re not putting this off on me. This is completely your decision.”

I giggle as the pink Tribbles in my head tickle my brain, “Yes, Ma’am! Ready or not, I have a feeling it’s going to happen, so I may as well be onboard with it. Barbie would likely never forgive me if I back out now!”

Mom giggles, but turns serious, “Yes, Hon, but you can’t let her to push you to doing something you don’t want. Not something like this.”

I sigh, “I know Mom. I am just telling myself she is. Deep down, I want to do it—and so much more, I think.”

She smiles and gives me a hug, “Ok, come on. Let’s eat. I just wish your Dad could see you right now. I would love to see his reaction!”

We both giggle and wade through the Tribbles to the kitchen.

So, an hour later I’m sitting in the piercing chair at Frostings, clutching the Teddy Bear tight to my chest and the girl is explaining the current sale to me, “Your coupon is good for a single piercing in each ear, but we currently have a buy-one-get-one-free sale going on. So, your coupon is actually good for a double-piercing in each lobe.”

I know I have a full-on deer-in-the-headlights look and Barbie squeezes my hand, “You should go for it, Hon! It would look so awesome! You can put the sparkly ones you picked out up front and simple gold studs in back, if you don’t want them to stand out as much.”

Jillie says, “Barbs, don’t pressure the poor girl. What would her cousin think?”

I am sitting there scared.

What? No—not of the piercing! Of my feelings. The ones that want more than just double piercings, even. Like the other girls in the Circle.

What? I did? I did, didn’t I? Call them the other girls …

I sigh and say, “OK. Let’s do it. Like Barbie said, though—the cubic zirconia studs in front and just small gold balls in back?”

The girls nods and makes little black dots on my ears. After a few minutes of discussion among the girls—and several repositionings of the dots—I hold my breath as the girl pops the studs through my ears, cleans them, and puts the backs on.

I look at myself in the mirror, now with four studs piercing my body and…smile.

What? Yes, I know Jimmy is going to regret this in the morning at school, but Jacie/Chrissie is enjoying the look immensely for the moment.

Sara says, “Jacie, that looks hot! What say we go get those nails done up right?”

I blush.

What? Sure, I would love to.

“Sorry, Sara, I don’t think that would go over well with Jimmy.”

She sighs and Kate says, “I know what’s next, though! And no arguments, hot girl!”

Barbie and Jillie giggle and they all pull me out into the mall and to this ‘Brow Bar’ place. I give Kate a ‘look’.

She giggles and says, “Hon, we’ve got you taking care of those lashes and lid lines—now we need to finish cleaning up those brows. A friend of mine works here that is the best eyebrow threader in the region!”

I shudder.

What? I don’t know what a ‘threader’ does, but it sounds painful! I mean, you thread needles, right?

The girls push me in and before I know what’s happening, I’m sitting in this reclining chair and ‘Yvette’ is using these threads in some complex manner and moving them across my brows.

What? No, it doesn’t hurt, at all.

When she’s done after a couple of minutes, she raises the back of the chair into a sitting position and I can see myself in the mirror. For Jacie, the brows look great—slightly arched and highly-tapered. For Jimmy…

Kate says, “Don’t worry, Hon! With your bangs down, no one sees your brows anyway. But, now Yvette is going to show you the proper technique to shape them as part of your makeup routine.”

She smiles at me and takes up this pencil and fills in my shaped brows with little lines, then she uses a small flat brush and some powder stuff that is a light brownish color and starts outlining them, then filling them in some more. While doing this, she explains how she had threaded them in relation to points on my face—it is some complex calculus that includes the edge of my nose, my irises, and the edges of my eye. She uses the handle of the brush to demonstrate the markers and says I need to pay attention those same markers when doing my makeup.

When she is done, I gasp. They are absolutely, stunningly perfectly shaped and sculpted. I just sit there and stare.

Kate giggles, “I take it you like them?”

I just swallow and nod. Kate pays Yvette and purchases an eyebrow pencil, powder, and brush. I object, but she tells me that Yvette gives her a big discount—well, anyone in the Circle gets it.

Then Mitsi says, “OK, Jacie, one more thing—those flats are OK, and all, but Chrissie was hot at school in Mrs. Blackthorn’s pumps the other day. We need to get you some four-inch heels.”

I am already uncomfortable enough with the guys in the mall checking us all out.

What? O! M! G! You wouldn’t be? Yeah, right! Liar, liar, pants on fire!

So, when we come out of the shoe store and I have my comfortable booties in my bag and I’m wearing the pair of four-inch stilettos that are similar to Mrs. Blackthorn’s—only these are a hot pink that match my hair extensions, glasses, and toenails—I feel my butt swaying in that way that the heels make it. I also know that my calves are popping in the skinny jeans.

What? I wasn’t expecting this! You think I planned it? Really? Really?

Anyway, I am walking out into the mall, stabbing Tribble after Tribble with my stiletto heels, and complaining about being the only one in heels in our gaggle, when disaster strikes.

“Well, hello there ladies!” I come to a full stop when I see the group of seniors from school coming up to us. The three boys—Chris Hines, Fred Singleton, and Sam Prince—are the core of a successful highschool garage band. Normally, they wouldn’t have dared talk to the Circle—even though we are all only Sophomores—because of their ‘Hot Girl’ status and them going out with the jocks. Now that those relationships were over, cute band guys were second on the rankings of eligible boyfriends—and they know it.

What? Me? Well, no! The other girls think they’re cute?

What? O!M!G! Grow up! So what if I did say ‘other’ girls? Get a life, will you?

Anyway, I am suddenly very nervous!

What? Will you please stop interrupting and let me just tell the story? No! I’m not nervous because a bunch of cute boys are talking to us!

What? Yes, they’re cute. Oh! Bosh! I’m nervous because they may recognize me. Cute, or not!

Anyway, I am suddenly very nervous! Barbie holds my hand in a death-grip. She’s getting better around boys after her ‘breakthrough’, but she’s still nervous.

Suddenly, I have reason to be a little more nervous. She is…smiling at Chris Hines. Yes, the lead guitar and head of the band.

I can almost feel the ‘click’ as I suddenly know where the subtle change in the status between us was—is—headed…

I feel a couple of Tribbles shrivel up, but am quickly pulled back to reality—a.k.a., the discussion—when I realize that Fred Singleton, the drummer, is talking to me, “…from around here, are you? I’m Fred Singleton.”

I sigh and say in a timid voice, “I’m Jacie Alexander and, no, I’m not from around here.”

Jillie jumps in, “She’s Jimmy Alexander’s cousin and is here visiting, since they’re still on winter break. She may be transferring here next year and we’re showing her around.”

I nod and watch as closely as I can, without seeming like I’m staring. Unfortunately, he seems to think that I’m flirting with him—or something.

What? You tell me! I certainly wasn’t flirting with another guy! Are you crazy?!?!

He gives me a wink and says, “I’d be happy to help show you around!”

Mitsi says, “Slow down, Loverboy! She’s taken!”

His face falls a little and then he refocuses on Sara, “But you’re not, right? Would you like to get a shake at the drugstore?”

What? Oh… Yeah… The mall has this ‘Old-fashioned Drugstore’ with a ‘Malt Counter’. It’s actually a popular place with the kids.

She blushes and says, “You seem a bit forward—and desperate there, Loverboy!”

He shrugs and says, “Look, you’re all newly eligible and I’m sure not for how long. Can you blame me for trying? At least give me—us—a chance.”

I notice Mitsi looking at Sam Prince, who plays the keyboard, in a funny way. I look back at Barbie and she’s still smiling at Chris.

I sigh and say, “Can you excuse me for a moment, gentlemen? I need to go down that hallway for a minute…” I point with my head to the hallway with the public restrooms and don’t even ask, I just pull Barbie with me. She still has my hand in a death grip anyway.

We go around the corner out of their sight. I stop.

What? You thought I was going to go in? Are you crazy?

I look into Barbie’s eyes and sigh, “You like him, don’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip and nods, tears forming in her eyes. She wails, “I don’t know what to do, Jacie! I love you like a sister—that’s the problem, though. I thought I could love you differently, but I’m just not a lesbian and no matter what you may think—you’re a very beautiful and very hot girl. That’s all I see anymore—even when you’re in Jimmy-mode. I had to make myself see you that way. Now, it’s too late. Can you forgive me?”

I hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek.

What? Of course, the Tribbles are disappearing! The mall is full of Klingons! The band members must be Klingons in disguise!

I feel empty, but know that I started this whole thing with the goal of helping Barbie and the hope that there could be more. I have helped her and there is more to do in that regard. And there will be more—just not the way I had hoped.

I ask gently, trying my best to keep my voice steady, “Are you ready to try dating a boy again, now?”

She shakes her head and says, “I honestly don’t know, Jacie! I…I…I…want to when I see Chris. But…”

I pull her into a tight hug and know I will regret what my next words are, “How can I help?”

At that moment, Jillie comes around the corner and nearly walks into us. She lets out a little scream and asks, “What’s going on, girls?”

I fight the tears that want to flood my face. I fight them hard and take a deep, trembling breath to steady my voice. I say with as much confidence as I can muster, “I’m trying to figure out how to help Barbs get together with Chris Hines.”

There is a sharp gasp from Jillie and the look she gives Barbs is set to ‘kill’. I shake my head and say, “It’s OK, Jillie. I mean, sure, I’m disappointed, but I understand that she’s not a lesbian even under her circumstances. I also get that she won’t likely ever see me as anything other than a girl. I mean, we worked hard to get her that far. Even though, she had the breakthrough and knows that I’m not really. But, since even I don’t know who—or what—I am…”

I shrug and Jillie still gives her a glare. Barbs breaks down and starts to cry. It doesn’t soften Jillie—much—she looks at me and I give her a wan smile. I hope she gets my unspoken message.

She sighs and says, “OK, we will talk about this later. Sara and Fred and Mitsi and Sam are going to get a shake. I don’t want to tag along, right now. Are you saying that you want to go with Chris, Barbs? Can you handle that?”

She pales and emphatically shakes her head, no.

Jillie looks at me in exasperation and shrugs. I say, “I guess the three of us are just going to have to have a talk with Chris—alone. No, he is not to know about Jimmy, but…”

Jillie gives me a shocked look and I grab both their hands and pull them out into the mall before I can change my mind.

We go back up to the group and Sara and Mitsi give us a surprised look. I guess I look like a girl on a mission.

What? I do look like a girl—and I am on a mission. At least it’s easier to walk without all the Tribbles in the way.

I walk straight up to Chris and ask, “Chris. Would you like to get to know Barbs here?”

He blushes and shrugs, “Sure! But I thought she and your cousin were a thing?”

I shake my head, “They’re really good friends, yes. But more like siblings. The thing is, Barbs needs special attention and I will make it my mission to hunt you down if you hurt her.”

I think he knows I mean business and nods.

I say, “OK, then. Here is how this is going to work… Jillie and I are going to chaperone the two of you—for Barbie’s sake. You will be chaperoned by Jillie or I, while I’m in town. Later, Jimmy may be in on it. That is until either you two decide to not make a go of it—or Barbs is comfortable enough to be alone with you. Understood?”

He nods, confused.

I sigh, “We will explain—how about we go to Emerald Wednesday’s and find a quiet table where you can buy her something nice?”

He nods, stunned. I nod back and our group breaks up into two. I watch Sara and Mitsi go towards the Drugstore with Fred and Sam, then I take Barbie’s arm and pull her towards Emerald Wednesday’s, which is in the opposite direction. Jillie and a stunned Chris follow behind us.

What? I know… Don’t even go there, OK? I’m trying hard not to get sucked out the open hatch into space without a suit.

I look around and there’s not a pink Tribble in sight. I feel more like the pink panther, right now, than the cuddly little balls of fur. No, not the cool panther in the cartoon, not even the inept Inspector Clouseau—no, I am much more like the infamous flawed pink diamond…

I sigh and pull Barbs into the restaurant and ask for a secluded table for four. When we are seated and our drink orders are taken, I look at Chris and ask, “Do you know what happened to Barbs? I mean what her last boyfriend did to her?”

I feel Barbs stiffen next to me.

He nods, “I’ve heard rumors—and that it turned her into a lesbian. I was a little surprised when it seemed that she was interested in your cousin—although, no offense—he is a bit feminine.”

Barbs bristles, “Guys! I’m like right here!”

I ignore her, even though Chris has the grace to blush. I continue, “I have gotten to know her very well through my cousin and, trust me, she isn’t a lesbian. That much has been firmly established—and she is interested in you. But she’s fragile…”

“Guys!,” she explodes, “I’m right here!”

I look at her, “What? You’re interested right? He needs to know to treat you right, or the Circle will kill him—along with Jimmy and me.”

She shakes her head, “Maybe this was a mistake…”

Chris reaches over and takes her hand, “Give me a chance. Please.”

She jerks her a hand a little, but somehow finds the strength to leave it.

She sighs and gives me a pointed look, “Look, Chris. Jacie’s right—even though not very…diplomatic. I’m damaged goods and it will be hard to get me to relax into a new relationship with a boy. Jimmy has been really sweet—my doll, actually. Well, more like a rock. Anyway, I did experiment with going out with a girl—a very special girl and I just…can’t. I love her like a sister, but I am just not wired that way. I am finally starting to get to the point where I don’t want to run off screaming when there is a boy around. I have Jimmy to thank for that. I would trust him with my life. I don’t know that I can trust you like that, yet—but… I would like to try.”

I can feel the heat coming off Jillie—all the way across the table. She’s hot—and not just hot-looking. She’s steaming mad. But, she holds her tongue.

Finally, we make plans for Chris to pick Barbs and me—as in Jacie—up tomorrow after our study session at Jimmy’s house. We’ll go for something to eat at one of the fast food places and see where it goes.

As we are getting ready to leave, Mitsi texts that Jeff will drive her and Sara home, so Jillie texts her Mom to pick Barbs, her, and me up in fifteen minutes.

We say goodbye to Chris and walk out front. Jillie doesn’t say a word the whole time—so, it’s awkward. Mrs. Holiday picks up on the tension, but doesn’t say anything—she just keeps looking over at Jillie in the passenger seat, up front, and at Barbs and me in the back.

I don’t know what to say.

What? Oh don’t start with me! I really don’t feel like talking about it! OK?

We drop Barbs off at her house and she gives me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before she gets out. She thanks Mrs. Holiday and hurries inside.

As soon as the door is closed, Jillie turns around and is a panther-but not a cuddly pink one. Maybe she’s more like a badger—or a Tasmanian Devil.

She spits out, “What the Hell, Jimmy?”

Her Mom says, “Jill! Language! Now, what’s going on? I could have cut the tension with a knife!”

I sigh and say, “Barbs and I broke up. I guess you can say that—I’m not sure we were ever really together. She can only picture me as a girl now—and she’s not…into girls.”

I look at Jillie, “I think she really did try, Jillie. I understand that she’s just not wired that way. I always knew it was a long shot, anyways.”

She just shakes her head, still furious. I say, “Don’t hold it against her, Jillie. I don’t.”

What? I don’t know if I do, or not. That’s beside the point! I still like her and I don’t want this to break up our group. The group I finally have…

Mrs. Holiday pulls into their garage and we get out. Jillie says, “Momma, Jacie is coming up with me to my room for a bit. OK?”

She nods and Jillie pulls me up to her room and closes the door.

That’s all it takes—I break down and the tears won’t stop. I finally have to just take the contacts out.

Jillie just hugs me and says, “What are we going to do? This is going to make it awkward in the Circle, now.”

I sniffle, “I will just go back to my table, Jillie. It’s where I belong, anyway.”

She looks at me in absolute, unbridled fury. If I thought she was mad before, she is in super-nova-melt-down-mode, now. She is so mad, she sputters, “James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander! I won’t hear you talk like that! I’ve known you my whole life and you’re my best friend and I better never hear you talk that way again! Do you hear me? Do you?”

I actually shrink back a little, I’m so shocked. I’m back to making sure my eyes are still in my head. The door’s closed and I don’t think they could fit under it, so they must not be rolling down the stairs, yet.

She comes over and gives me a fierce hug and whispers in my ear, “I have always loved you, you know. I wouldn’t know what to do if we were ever separated!”

Then, pink Tribbles are suddenly blowing the roof off the house, there are so many. She kisses me and my toes curl. If she wasn’t on top of me, I think my foot would ‘pop’.

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

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Part Ten

She breaks the kiss and I sit there out of breath. When I finally catch it, I stutter, “B…b…but… Why? When? What…?”

She giggles, “Look, Jacie. Let’s stick with that, for now, OK?”

I nod.

What? What the hell do I know, right now? I think someone threw me out the hatch into space. I’m still trying to breathe. My innermost dream just came true—Jillie and I kissed. And it seems she wants me to keep doing so.

I wonder if all these pink Tribbles out here with me have little space suits on—or if they don’t actually need to breathe?

Jillie pulls me back to reality, “I think I’ve always known that we were meant to be together, but you shut everyone out and, somehow, I knew I had to give you space. When all of this came about—then things with Greg fell apart—it was too late again. You had your heart set on Barbs and I wasn’t going to mess with that.”

She kisses me again and my toes curl.

She breaks the kiss, “That’s why I was—am—so furious with her, right now. She hurt you!”

I shake my head and say, “No, Jillie. Like you, I’ve always wanted you. I wouldn’t have even looked at Barbie if you hadn’t been with Greg. My world fell apart when you started dating him. I just sort of gave up. Am I glad that I did what I did for Barbs? Of course! But, this is so much better!”

She kisses me again and my toes curl again—I also feel a stirring…down under and squirm a little.

I say, “But, you mean you’re OK with…whatever I am?”

She smiles and says, “Look, Hon—I am in love with you. I don’t care which part of James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander you wind up being—or if it’s all of them. I agree with Barbs on one thing, though; unless you decide on one, I’m sticking with Jacie. It’s just easier!”

She kisses me again. My toes curl and I feel all gooey and funny inside. The pink Tribbles are purring so loudly, I can barely hear. I feel all warm and snuggly.

I look up at Jillie when I open my eyes and she’s giving me a strange look but has a grin on her face.

She sighs, “Look, I would love nothing more than to keep this up—but we need to get you cleaned up and go downstairs. I think we have some talking to do with both our Moms—since both our Dads are out of town.”

I sigh. I know she’s right. “We should also probably let Barbs know… I know she feels really bad, right now.”

What? If it wasn’t for her, then Jillie and Greg would probably still be together! And I would still be a loner with no friends.

Jillie giggles, “Yeah. I should still be mad at her, but, right now, I feel like I’m floating on clouds!”

I picture us on pink cotton candy clouds, surrounded by pink Tribbles, and it’s raining pink goo onto the pink panther down below. I suddenly have a fit of the giggles.

Jillie just looks at me in exasperation. I shrug and giggle some more, “Sorry. I couldn’t explain it if I tried!”

I wash my face and redo my makeup in my normal ‘simple’ look. Jillie helps me take out the extensions and I leave out the contacts—thankfully I have a container and drops in my purse for them. When I finish brushing out my hair, I am back in normal Chrissie-mode—except for the twinkling studs in my ears and the gold balls right behind them.

With that reminder, I call Barbs. She answers and hesitantly says, “Hi, Jacie. Are you mad at me? You don’t have to…”

I cut her off and say, “Barbs, I’m not mad at you—we’re not mad at you—Jillie’s with me right now. Well, I guess, technically, I’m with Jillie. Anyway, the point is—we’re together!”

There is silence on the other end and then the light bulb seems to go on and she lets out a little scream, “O!M!G! Like together, together?”

Jillie says, “Yes, Barbs. We’ve both wanted it forever and were both too stupid to do anything about it. I was very mad at you earlier tonight—but, all I can do is thank you from the bottom of my heart, right now!”

I hear sniffling on the other end and she says, “I still feel terrible about how it all happened!”

Jillie says, “Look, we’ll talk about it later. I’m sure Mitsi’s Mom will have a hay-day with you two over it. Right now, we need to concentrate on getting you comfortable with Chris. I actually have a good feeling about that.”

There is a gasp on the other end, “You do?”

Jillie nods and says, “Yep! We have to run now, Hon. We’ll talk tomorrow, OK? We’re good, right?”

Barbs says, “Oh, I hope so! I love you both! Hugs! Until tomorrow!”

I hang up and we swim through the Tribble-laden clouds to the door and slide down the pink-goo falls cascading down the stairs to the kitchen.

Jillie says, “Mom, Jacie and I have something to tell you. Do you think that we could invite Mrs. Alexander over for dinner? We only had drinks at the mall and I’m starved!”

She gives us a funny look and says, “Sure. If she’s game.”

A quick call has Mom over in about ten minutes and while we’re waiting on the pizza to be delivered, Jillie says, “Well, Mom, Mrs. Alexander…” She looks at me and takes my hand, “James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander and I are officially a couple.” She giggles.

Both our moms exclaim in unison, “Well! It’s about time!

---

The next day at school is a swirling mix of varied emotions and phaser settings. It starts when Jillie and I get on the bus holding hands and sitting together—like, really close together. I think Freddie Fender is going to have a stroke when he sees us together—and it’s obvious we’re ‘together’.

But, when we get off the bus and the jocks—Greg out in front—see us holding hands, we’re in serious need of the Organians! He splutters and spouts off about how I’m going to regret being alive.

I seriously miss my cloaking device, right now. Jillie just puts her nose in the air—as do the other Circle members—and we walk right on by the sputtering Greg. I’m surprised to see Barbs acting exactly the same as the other girls. I just keep checking to see if I can maybe somehow get my cloaking device working again.

When we get inside, we go into a side hall and spend the ten minutes before first bell catching up on what happened after the groups split up at the mall. Of course, Mitsi had caught Jillie and me up on her hooking up with Sam—on a trial basis—after she breaks all the windows with her screaming when she realizes that Jillie and I are finally together. I think there’s a new hashtag on social media, right now: ‘#It’sAboutTime!’ It’s permanently etched into my eardrum after she screams it! The bus driver just gives her a harsh look before closing the door and driving off.

Anyway, we all get caught up. Sara and Fred are going to give it a go, too. So, when they find out about the post-study-session plans with Chris and Barbs, it becomes a big group-thing.

When we’re walking to class, I sigh to Jillie, though, “Now, I’ll have to Jacie-up. I wasn’t planning on that tonight. This is going to get complicated.”

Jillie looks at me and says, “Why? You don’t have to go as Jacie—or Chrissie—or even Jimmy, for that matter. You can go however you want.”

I shake my head, “No, I can’t. I mean, can I? Well, no—I would either have to go as full-on Chrissie or Jacie or as full-on Jimmy. So, comfortable Jimmy is out. The guys don’t know about me…and I don’t trust them enough for them to know. I mean, the girls are just hooking up with them and don’t know them, either. And, even if they did, they thought they knew the jocks, too. I mean, you thought you knew Greg—you went out with him for two years.”

She sighs as we walk into the classroom and says, “To be continued…”

I nod and go take my seat across the room.

What? Yeah! Assigned seats suck!

I can barely pay attention to what’s going on in class. Just last week, I was struggling with going out dressed as a girl—which I was, at first, only doing to help Barbs, then because I found myself liking it. At least I had an excuse at that point—even though I acted like I was resisting. Honestly, deep down, I liked—no, like—it. But now, I don’t have an excuse…

The bell rings and I shake my head as I file out of the room with the rest. Jillie is waiting outside the door with Sara, Mitsi and Barbs. They all sit on the side of the room by the door, so they are always out first. We walk to our next class and Jillie giggles, “Earth to Jimmy! I think it was a good thing I was taking notes?”

I sigh and nod, “Yeah, I couldn’t concentrate. I don’t know what to do about tonight. I’m about to decide it may be better for me to just stay at home.”

Jillie pouts, “You don’t want to go out with me?”

I sigh, “I want nothing more, but…”

Barbs asks, “But, what? Jimmy—it actually feels good to be able to say that without falling in the floor in terror—you have helped me come out of my shell. At least as far as I am able to, up to now. Now, it’s time for me—and the rest of us—to help you. Do you want to come as Jacie?”

I sigh and put up token resistance.

What? The Borg? Where?!?!?

“It’s not that simple, …”

Barbs cuts me off, “Sure it is, Hon. If you want to come with us as Jacie, then all you have to do is come with us as Jacie.”

I hurriedly look around and sigh—there is no one else around.

I retort, “Let’s say, for argument’s sake that’s what I want to do—how would Jillie and I be a couple?”

Jillie says, “You know that doesn’t…”

I shake my head, “Not because of that, Jillie. If we’re a couple as Jacie and Jillie, then how would we be a couple here at school as Jimmy and Jillie? It wouldn’t work—not without the guys knowing.”

It finally begins to sink into their heads.

I put up my best shields, but I see that Borg cube down the hall and they’re just beaming right through them.

I sigh and shake my head, “We need to get to class!”

What? I can tell them later. I just don’t know how—or what it means…

And so the day goes—class after class with after-class discussion after each one. Only, we’re not getting anywhere. I honestly don’t have a solution to my problem, outside of telling the guys about Chrissie/Jacie—or going as Jimmy.

My other big problems are my ears and my hair. I had spent half-an-hour in front of the mirror this morning putting my hair into a ponytail, which showed my ears and the double studs in them. I would then sigh and take the ponytail down, which would hide the earrings but showed off my more girly hair. I would sigh, rinse and repeat.

Finally, I just left my hair down and decided to hope for the best—it seemed easier to explain than the double-piercings. It also helped tone down my shaped eyebrows.

What? No! I didn’t use makeup on them. But they are still shaped.

To my surprise, no one really says anything—well, other than the jocks that are giving me shit, anyway.

All of this just serves to confuse me even more. I hear the Borg voices in my head, ‘Resistance is futile.’

Finally, at the end of the day, Mitsi comes up with a solution—at least an interim one for tonight. She okays it with her Mom for all of us to just come together in their pool/guest house for pizza.

What? I didn’t say anything about them being loaded? Well, her Mom is a shrink, after all—and her Dad a renowned surgeon. So, yeah. They’re loaded.

Jillie and I—as Jacie—will show up and I will just have to be careful. At least until we can get a read on these guys.

---

We all meet at my house for our after-school study session, then everyone breaks away to go home and get ready for the impromptu small party. Of course, it won’t go late, since it’s a school night.

Jillie actually doesn’t go home; she had brought her stuff over and we get ready together.

What? No, I don’t get to see her naked! What do you think I am? Some sort of pervert?

What? O!M!G! Of course, I want to see her naked! Wouldn’t you?

Anyway, I do get to see her in a pair of the thong panties I gave her for Christmas and I feel a strange stirring in my own panties.

Jillie insists that I put on my skinny jeans that just go to my ankle, a pink sweater, and my four-inch heels. She dresses similarly, including heels, so I can’t grumble—too much.

Then she helps me put in my hair extensions and ‘suggests’ that I do more sophisticated makeup than I normally do—for an evening/party look. She helps me do the contouring and blended smoky-eye look, after I put in my contacts.

Of course, my glasses hide a lot of the work. Overall, even I have to admit that the look is hot—especially when she does a similar one of her own.

When we are both done, she gives me a toe-curling kiss—this time, we’re both standing and my foot does pop.

What? You mean you’ve never seen ‘The Princess Diaries’? Really?

What? Yeah, it’s a girly thing to do. Seeing as how I am wearing four-inch stilettos and enough makeup to cover every square millimeter of my face, I think that’s OK.

Err…right?

Anyway, my foot pops and I stand there as we kiss. I feel that strange stirring in my panties again and the pink Tribbles are popping out my ears, they are multiplying so fast.

She breaks the kiss and we fix our lipstick. We go downstairs—once again riding the cascades of pink goo to the kitchen—and find Mom, who’s going to drive us to Mitsi’s.

She smiles at us, “You girls look very nice! Actually, no, you look hot. It’s a good thing you’re together now!”

I blush and she continues, “Just remember, Jacie, that biologically you’re a boy and Jill is a girl and that boy plus girl equals baby under the wrong circumstances.”

I exclaim, “Mom!”

She shakes her head and says, “Look, I’m serious. Betty and I talked and we both agree that we’re not going to change the way we treat you. We trust you—even when you’re here, or over there, alone. We also know that you likely will…experiment. I also know that you’re on the pill, Jill—but that doesn’t always give you total protection.”

“Mom!” I think I’m going to die!

She smiles, “I also know your Momma had this talk with you—she told me.” She winks at Jillie, “This is for Jacie’s benefit.”

I think I’m going to most certainly die on the spot. The Tribbles are shriveling up and are getting sucked out the hatch—until Jillie closes it with a giggle and a toe-curling kiss.

Mom giggles, “OK! Come on! Let’s go before I have to call the police!”

She drops us off at Mitsi’s house—after we get a passport, visa, and United Federation of Planets’ approval to get through their gate.

What? I think I mentioned they’re loaded—and their security is tight! I mean there are red-shirts all over the place.

What? Well, OK—not really. But there could be!

Anyway, Mom drops us off at the front door after using warp six to get us up the drive it is so far, and we both get out. We go up the massive steps to the even larger front door—a shuttle hanger door comes to mind—and Mom drives off. Jillie gives me another toe-curling, foot-popping kiss and pink Tribbles cascade down the steps and the drive after her—but she is already at warp six again to get back into our galaxy before she dies of old age.

Jillie fixes my lipstick with her finger and I inspect hers. We each add a coat of lip gloss and she rings the doorbell.

Dr. Myers—as in Mitsi’s Mom, not her Dad—answers the door and smiles at me, “Hello, Jacie. Hi, Jill. Come on in before you freeze to death out there!”

We follow her into the shuttle hanger—err, hallway—and she takes our coats. Jill, of course, has been here before, but it’s my first time, and I’m having a hard time keeping my jaw up where it belongs. It keeps wanting to fall on the highly-polished marble floor.

Dr. Myers looks at us and says, “So, Mitsi tells me that you two are now the item—and Barbara is interested in Christopher Hines? I can’t keep up with you kids! But, I don’t want to seem like I have you in a session. I only caution you that Barbara is still fragile and so I actually think it’s a good thing that you all are meeting here tonight. Don’t hesitate to call me if need be. Mitsi, of course, knows to as well.”

I go between blushing and nodding and not knowing what to say. Jillie just smiles, “OK, Dr. M. As for Jacie and I; well, we’ve known each other our whole lives—well, Jimmy and I have—and were just too stupid to know what we really had with each other. This whole situation made it clear to us—or, at least clear enough that we acted on it. I’m sure James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie, here, will tell you all about it in your next session.”

She actually giggles, “Yes, I’m looking forward to that. Hopefully, we can settle on one of those names, though! Anyway, the girls are in the guest house. The boys aren’t here just yet. Something about having to load their van. I’m not sure what that means, though?”

I shrug, “I’m not sure, Dr. Myers. I mean, they have a band and I think they have a van they use for that. Maybe they plan on playing something tonight?”

She smiles, “Oh? A band? Hmmm… Well, then. We’ll see how it all plays out!”

I do a double-take. Did she just make a pun?

I check around for Romulans—maybe she is drinking some of their ale?

Jillie gets it, too—and groans, “OK, then, Dr. M. I think we’ll go out there before you really get started!”

She pulls me through the shuttle hanger—err, hallway—to the bridge and then we go out a hatch to the rec hall…

What? The house is as big as the Enterprise! I mean really! I’m sure of it!

As we are hurrying to the pool house, since we left our coats in the house, Jillie asks, “Is she like that in your sessions? She can get pretty corny, but she’s a pretty cool Mom.”

I shiver and say, “Not really. I guess she has to be more ‘professional’ in her sessions?”

Jillie nods and gives me another kiss before we go into the little building that serves as the Myers’ pool and guest house. It’s about the size of a ‘normal’ house.

What? Well, it seems like it! I guess it’s actually about the size of a small cottage. There is plenty of room, that’s for sure.

As we enter, Mitsi comes over and gives us a hug, then rubs our arms to warm them up. Sara, Kate, and Barbs then hug us, too.

Barbs smiles and says, “I’m glad you could both come! I still feel terrible about…”

I shake my head and cut her off, “Don’t, Barbie, I already told you we’re good. Yes, I was hurt at first. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I got just what I’ve always wanted with Jillie. I just didn’t ever think it was an option. You made it possible, so—thank you. The jury is still out on the whole ‘Chrissie-Jacie’ thing, but I’m happy that it’s out in the open and not locked away in some far corner of my mind. I actually have friends now—and that is thanks to you.”

She blushes, “OK. If you’re sure?”

I nod and she looks at Jillie, “And us?”

Jillie goes over and hugs her, “Yes, I was furious with you—but I agree with Jacie. You were just the catalyst we needed to get our chemistry reacting in the right direction.”

Barbs blushes again and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out the locket I gave her for Christmas and holds it out to Jillie and says quietly, “I think this is more appropriate for you to have.”

Jillie looks shocked and I say, “Barbie, I gave that to you and it was meant for you. We are still friends—no; more like you’re my sister. Please keep it—and wear it. I mean that.”

Jillie nods and takes it from her hand—just to fasten it back around Barbie’s neck with a hug. Barbs comes over and gives me a tight hug and whispers in my ear, “You still are my doll, Jacie. I know you and Jill belong together—I can just feel it!”

I hug her back and smile in her hair. We break the hug and there is a knock on the door.

Mitsi opens it and the guys come in—loaded down with instruments. Sam puts down his portable keyboard and gives her a hug and she gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. The procedure is repeated with Sara and Fred after he lets go of the cart that holds his drums.

Chris puts down his guitar case and the amp he has on a roller cart and looks at Barbs, who is suddenly very shy and insecure.

I sigh and go over to her, “Barbs, come on. We’ll give Chris a group hug. How is that? Come on, Jillie, you get in on this, too!”

Jillie comes over and I motion for Chris to come over. Barbs stiffens, but joins in on the hug and relaxes after a few seconds. Jillie breaks out of the hug and I wait a couple of seconds and follow suit. Barbs looks shocked when she is standing there alone in an embrace with Chris. But, the shock isn’t one of fear—I think she is surprised at herself for maintaining the hug.

At that moment, there is another knock on the door and Kate smiles. She opens it and gives a cute guy a kiss and a hug. She says, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet John Uptain. We’re ummm, well, we’ve sort of hooked up. He goes to St. James.”

What? Oh, St. James? St. James Academy is the parochial private school that the rich and famous go to. After seeing this place, I’m surprised that Mitsi doesn’t go.

As it turns out, John only lives a few houses over. Of course, in this neighborhood, that has to be several miles away with the lot sizes. They have to be about a parsec apart, each.

While we’re getting to know John, I can’t help but notice that Chris is holding Barbie’s hand—and she’s letting him. I smile. Now to just keep increasing the distance of the ‘chaperones’. If Chris does anything to hurt her, though, there isn’t a shield in the Federation that will protect him.

The band members quickly break away from ‘their’ girls and start setting up. John is surprised and says, “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring our instruments!”

Chris looks at him, intrigued, “You play?”

John nods, “Bass guitar, and a few other things…”

Chris looks at Sam. Sam sighs, “Sure! Always the keyboarder because we are the quickest to set up. I’ll be right back.”

Before anyone knows what’s happening, Sam is back out the door. Chris just smiles, “We just mess around a bit. We have a gig or two set up in some local dives. We’re not into making a lot just yet, but our name is getting out there.”

John raises his eyebrows, “Name?”

Chris shrugs, “P.S.T.K.”

John’s brows go higher, “You’re P.S.T.K.? ”

At that moment, Sam comes back in, his breath visibly swirling around his head in the cold. He hands John a guitar case and rubs his hands together to warm them.

Chris grins, “Let’s see what you’ve got! Johnny be good!”

John groans and opens the case to take out a bass guitar. He smiles and hooks it into the amplifier that Sam had also pulled behind him. He starts tuning it by ear and asks, “So, I’ve always wondered… P.S.T.K.?”

Fred laughs, “‘Phasers Set To Kill’, of course. It came to us when we would watch the hot girls kill people with their phaser-looks at school.”

John laughs, as do the rest of us that had no idea what it stood for, either. It is a pretty closely guarded secret. Chris says so, “Please keep that to yourselves, though. We just let you in on one of our biggest secrets—it drives people crazy not knowing and it helps with our marketing.”

I smile—Chris must be pretty serious about this working out if he is willing to let us in on the secret.

Fred sits down at his drums and starts tapping out a beat with his sticks and the actual band members start playing ‘Titanium’. John quickly joins in with a basic bass line.

We all start singing and then everyone comes to a complete stop when Barbs starts really belting out in a voice that is worthy of the opera.

We all look at her and she blushes, “Too much?”

Chris shakes his head and Fred counts them in again. This time Barbs measures her voice, but still takes the lead. The rest of us not playing just sort of back her up.

When we are done, we all laugh and giggle. It takes us a moment to realize there is clapping in the background. Dr. Myers and the pizza guy are standing there. Dr. Myers says, “Wow! That was perfect! Do another!”

The pizza guy is nodding.

Chris looks at Barbs and shrugs, “How do you feel about ‘Thunder’?”

She smiles, “Sure.”

And Fred counts us in. We have some fun and do all kinds of crazy stuff in the background—playing like old-fashioned backup singers.

What? You know things like, we ‘boop’ and we ‘bop’.

We’re all laughing at the end, again. Dr. M. and the pizza guy clap enthusiastically and then give us two thumbs up as they leave us to eat our pizza.

I look over at Barbs as I take a slice and see her close to Chris and pretty relaxed. This seems to be working.

Oh? Did I mention it’s like a total blast, too? Especially, when Jillie and I sneak a few toe-curling, foot-popping kisses in one of the bedrooms away from everyone.

---

I yawn. We weren’t out really late last night, but it was still almost eleven by the time I got to bed. Then it took a while for my brain to shut down enough for me to get to sleep.

The dreams I had after that were very nice, though. My toes were permanently curled and my foot was in a perpetual pop. Pink Tribbles were everywhere.

I yawn again and get in the shower. I check—the water isn’t pink, so I guess I’m awake.

Well, sort of.

I get ready and go down to eat my frozen waffle, then go out to the bus stop. Jillie is already waiting and gives me a toe-curling kiss just as the bus arrives. Of course, we just ignore the kissy sounds that everyone is making as we go back to the Circle’s staked out territory on the bus. Freddy Fender seems to be chasing his eyeballs down the aisle—otherwise it’s a normal morning. Well, the new normal for me, anyway.

What? I’m still not used to having friends—let alone finally being together with Jillie.

Jillie, Mitsi, Kate, and I all giggle about our antics last night. I, once again, have to wonder about Mitsi—she rides the bus and goes to a normal school. She is the first one on the bus in the morning and the last one off in the afternoon, since that is where the route starts and stops. For a loaded family, she sure isn’t being spoiled.

We get off when we get to school and go meet up with Barbs and Sara. There is a fair amount of laughing and giggling as we talk about last night. Then Chris, Fred, and Sam join us and we all walk in. As we’re going up the steps, Chris says, “Jimmy! You missed an awesome party last night, Bro! You should’ve come with your cousin.”

I sigh and give him my prepared answer, “Sorry, my Dad’s out of town and I had to help Mom with some stuff. I wanted to come and be with Jillie. Maybe next time.”

He gives me a funny look, then looks harder at me—and smiles. He says, “Yeah. You should do that! We’re going to all get together again this weekend to play together again. I’m trying to get the girls to join the band as singers—and Johnny Uptain, too, as a bass player.”

I shrug and act like I don’t know what he’s talking about, “Yeah, Jillie said you had fun. Sorry I missed it all!”

We split apart when we’re inside and I can’t help but notice the quick kiss Barbs gives Chris on the cheek. She certainly is doing better after last night.

The first classes go by fairly quickly. And then it’s study hall—and my Tuesday meeting time with Gina McMasters. Mrs. Blackburn and Nurse Felix both agreed to the meeting, which we will have in a side room of the Nurse’s Station.

What? My cover? Well, it seems I have this ‘rare genetic disease’ that requires me to have weekly treatments in the nurse’s office.

What? Yeah, lame, I know. It could have at least been something cool, like I got bit by radioactive spider, or something…

Anyway, I go to the Nurse’s Station and Nurse Felix leads me to one of the side rooms where Gina is already waiting. She gets up and gives me a hug, “Hi, Jimmy—or do you prefer Chrissie or Jacie?”

I sigh, “Whatever works for you, Doc. Although, in school I am definitely ‘Jimmy’.”

She nods and says, “OK, ‘Jimmy’ it is. You certainly look different in that boy’s uniform—although, there are certain feminine overtones. I can tell you’re wearing eye makeup, your hair is certainly on the feminine side, and are those double-piercings in your ears now? Those certainly send mixed messages to those that are paying attention. Is that your intention?”

I sigh, “To be honest, Gina, I have no idea. I just know that I feel better with the eye makeup—my eyes look…boring…without it. I like my hair longer. I think both make me look…better. As for the earrings… Well, that was a sort of spur-of-the-moment decision that I love when in Chrissie/Jacie mode. It does cause me consternation when in Jimmy mode, though, because I can’t really put my hair in a ponytail without flagging the piercings—at least until they heal and I can take out the back ones and put in less feminine ones in front—if any—during the day.”

She nods, “So, you’re ashamed of them?”

I shake my head—shocked at the question. “No, not ashamed. Confused, yes. Also, I just am not ready for questions that I don’t have answers to. The jocks have already noticed and are starting to cause me problems—I have to figure it all out and don’t really know where to go with it all.”

She nods, “OK, I understand. I have also noticed that you’re talking more like a girl—not just your tone and pitch, but also your vocabulary. Speaking of tone and pitch—that seems to be your natural tenor. You are also not developed in other areas that I would expect. So, it doesn’t appear that you have actually started puberty. Is that a fair assessment?”

I blush and nod.

She smiles, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I do want to get a blood sample and run some tests. Tabatha—Nurse Felix—will get that for me before you leave. But, let me ask you this.” She looks at me intently and asks, “How do you feel about the fact that you could start puberty any day and start developing as a boy—into a man. Does that thought bother you?”

I blanche.

What? I hadn’t thought about that. About what it would—could—mean. The Tribbles tremble.

I sigh and stutter, “I…I…I don’t really know. I mean…” I shake my head, “I don’t know, Gina. I’m so confused!”

She pats my hand, “It’s OK, Hon. That’s why we’re talking. I know you’re confused. The thing is, you’re also obviously conflicted. If you weren’t, then you would come right out on one side or the other—either, a firm affirmation that it would bother you, or a firm denial that it wouldn’t. Does that make sense? We do have to figure out the best course for you.”

She waits for my nod and continues, “So, my next question is this.” She looks at me intently again, like she is looking into my soul, “Depending on what the blood tests say—if everything is normal and you’re just a late bloomer—do you want to delay it further to figure this out? Or just let nature run its course?”

She shakes her head when I start to answer, “Don’t answer me right now. Just think about it. A week one way or the other is not going to matter—even if you were to start puberty right this moment. We’ll talk about it more next week, OK?”

I sigh and feel like I’m drowning in Klingons, Romulans, and the Borg. I nod.

Then I blush so profusely that I burn the pile of Klingons and other villains on me at her next question, “Jimmy, do you masturbate or fantasize about sex? Or, have you ever actually had it, maybe? Remember, I can’t tell anyone.”

I watch the villains hopping around in pain with their third degree burns, howling their curses. I am pretty sure they are going to throw me out the hatch without a suit.

I look back at her, “Ummm… No, I don’t masturbate. No, I haven’t had sex. Yes, I fantasize. I guess you could call it that. When Jillie kisses me, I get this…warm…feeling and feel…good. I even get my panties a little wet. I had…nice…dreams about her last night and my pajama bottoms were damp this morning. Is that what you want to know?”

She smiles and nods, “And when you get ‘damp’, is it sticky or just sort of wet? Like, does it dry kind of crusty?”

I shrug, “It’s just wet, I guess. Does that mean something?”

She smiles, “It just gives me a better idea of your development down there. You’re obviously mentally going through a development, but not so much physically, yet. It tells me that you’re close to starting and that we need to figure some things out quickly. Just think about what you want for the short term for next week. OK? I won’t see you on Saturday, but you can let Rita know if you come to a decision by then—or ask her questions, too.”

I nod and she says, “OK, Jimmy, your next class is going to start in a bit and I need to let Tabatha take your blood. I will see you next Tuesday, OK?”

I nod and she gives me a hug and leaves the room while Nurse Felix comes in to take a two-liter bottle of blood. She needs an anti-grav unit to cart it out of the room when she’s done.

What? Well, no. Not really, but it sure feels like it.

Oh, it’s not pink—in case you were wondering.

I don’t get much time to talk to Jillie about the session during the rest of school, so we sit in her kitchen after our study session when we are alone again, after the rest of the Circle has left. Both our Moms are working late and both our Dads are out of town, again. We have ordered some take-out Chinese to be delivered and are waiting for it to arrive.

Jillie looks at me in deep thought, “So, she is looking into your hormonal status? OK, but what do you think you will answer her about her question?”

I sigh, “I don’t know, Jillie. I was hoping you could give me a little idea about what your thoughts are. I mean, assuming that we were to stay together, which I most certainly want.”

She shakes her head.

I feel the Tribbles dying.

She says, “Of course, I want to stay together, too, idiot! But, it’s your decision what happens to your body. I told you, I love any or all of your…characters… Those are just external apparitions of your real spirit—the real you.”

I sigh and hold my thought as she takes the money her Mom had left for us and goes to pay for the food that has just arrived. She comes back in and we open our boxes so that we can share.

I look at her as I chew a piece of broccoli from her ‘beef and broccoli’. I swallow it and ask, “But let’s just say, for arguments sake, that I would decide to go with Chrissie or Jacie. Then ‘me’ would become more girly—I would have to. Gina already commented that I am talking more like a girl, as it is. You’re saying you would be OK being in a committed lesbian relationship?”

She swallows her bite of my ‘cashew chicken’ and says, “If it’s you, I don’t care. How many times do I have to say that?”

I look around and there are these strange orange flowers everywhere—and I am suddenly covered in these…spores. All I can think about is Jillie at that moment. Then, I’m covered in pink Tribbles and feel all warm and…gooey…inside.

I smile at her and say, “I love you, Jillie Holiday. You know that, right? I think I always have.”

She smiles back and takes another piece of my ‘cashew chicken’ with her chopsticks and pokes it in her mouth. She suddenly looks me seriously in the eyes and says, “I love you, too, James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander. I know I always have. So, get used to it. You’re stuck with me forever, now!”

I feel a stirring below and my panties get wet. I squirm a little in my seat and she winks at me, “I’m wet, too. Let’s finish eating and go make out on the couch!”

What? Nope! No more details—other than…

Nope! Not even that!

O!M!G!!!! No!

---

I wake up and smile. I had the most wonderful dreams last night—they are even better after making out with Jillie.

What? No! I told you! I’m not talking about that!

Just to be clear, though—it’s Saturday and I’ve made out with her every evening after study group.

What? Why do you keep asking? I’m not giving the details! Why can’t you just be happy for me?

Oh! If you find out what these weird orange flowers are that are suddenly everywhere, let me know? Ever since Jillie took me to that field—I could have sworn I heard Spock laughing in the distance—I can’t stop thinking about her.

What? O!M!G! Details? Sure. She’s sweet and cuddly and like a huge, warm, pink Tribble… And, that’s all you need to know!

Anyway, I need to get ready for my joint session with Barbs, then my individual one with Dr. M.

Mom drops me off at the medical building and I go to the eleventh floor and say hi to Jeannette. She compliments me on my outfit—I’m in between Chrissie and Jacie. I have the pink hair extensions in and the colored contacts, but not the glasses. I also am wearing my bra and inserts. My hair is down, but pinned back on the left side with a bejeweled barrette, showing off my double-pierced ear. My bangs are hanging down loosely over my right eye—I’m finally getting more used to them. The whole look is very feminine, to be honest—and I love it.

What? So, sue me!

What? A guy? Sure…

Err…right?

Anyway, I go in and hug both Barbs and Dr. M.

Both seem a bit surprised at how I am presenting and I just shrug and smile, “This just seemed like ‘me’, today. Jillie certainly liked it, too. I didn’t think she was going to let me go!”

Barbs giggles and Dr. M. winks.

Dr. M. says, “OK, Barbie and Jacie, I think today will be your last joint session. Based on the progress Barbie has made over the past week, I think there is not a real need for it. I am, however, not releasing either of you from your individual sessions. You both need those. Now, maybe more than ever. You’re both very vulnerable in your current states—but congratulations to you both for graduating to the next stage of support. And I mean that! You have both made significant progress!”

I giggle, “And I didn’t even know I needed it!”

Barbs giggles and Dr. M. laughs and says, “Well, I think most everyone can use some level of ‘support’.” She winks.

I nod and Barbs hugs us both and leaves Dr. M. and me a little early so we can talk.

Dr. M. looks at me in a serious manner and says, “OK,…? I’m not sure who I’m talking to today?”

I giggle, “I think you and I both know that whatever the name, it’s still just little-ole-me. But, I’ve come to an agreement with Jillie and Barbs that, for now, Jacie seems easiest when I’m not full-on in some other ‘mode’. I even confuse myself!”

She laughs, “OK, Jacie, then. And, like I just told Barbie—especially after Monday night—I think it’s time for you to just call me Rita. I know you’re calling Dr. McMasters ‘Gina’ and you are one of my daughter’s best friends—sister, actually. I don’t usually extend the courtesy to many patients, so please accept it in the vein it’s intended. I value your friendship to our family.”

I feel the Tribbles take over the whole eleventh floor.

I sigh and then smile, “OK, Rita. I have to say that you are now the third adult that has offered me that privilege in the past couple of weeks and my Mom is having kittens over it. I completely understand the honor you are bestowing on me and I thank you for your trust and will do my best to be worthy of it. I can’t promise that I won’t slip up and call you Dr. Myers—or Dr. M., though.” I giggle, “But, won’t it be awkward around the others in the Circle? I don’t think I trust myself to try and parse that out.”

She laughs, “That’s an excellent point, Jacie! And, don’t worry. I plan on extending the offer to the entire Circle—maybe even the band, if they seem worthy.”

I smile, “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

She nods, “And you were all really good together. But, enough of that. How are you doing, Jacie?”

I sigh. The pile of Tribbles contracts—Captain is on the bridge and playtime is over.

I think about my response for a minute and then say, “I’m doing good, Doc… Rita. I think I really am. I was really bummed when I figured out that Barbs was interested in Chris. That was purely out of selfish motivation. I told myself that I was doing all of this to help Barbie—and, to a certain extent, I was. But, I certainly was strongly hoping to get ‘rewarded’ for it. And it looked like I was for a while—until it looked like I wasn’t…”

Dr…Rita nods and says, “Look, Jacie. That is very astute of you to observe that, but I think you’re being too harsh on yourself. Especially after Barbie told me what you did for her after that. Don’t beat yourself up over being human, OK? Unless you aspire to be Vulcan?”

I put my hands up to my face to keep my eyes from falling out. I’m not sure I catch them, though! I hope the Tribbles don’t get hair all over them.

She giggles, “What? You don’t think I haven’t caught some of your geeky Star Trek references? I’m a die-hard Trekkie, myself. That’s one of the things that I really appreciate about you. And, no, there is no shame in a girl being a Trekkie!”

I smile and feel a little impish, “Well, being Vulcan would certainly have its beneficial qualities, right now! I am so confused! Gina is asking me questions that I have no answers to. I honestly don’t know what to do.”

She nods, “I understand, Jacie. I do. I’ve talked to Gina and know what she is asking of you. She’s not intending to put pressure on you—if anything, she’s trying to relieve it. Think of it this way…”

She pauses to think, then continues, “You’re not sure what you want. You don’t know if it would be bad or good to develop as a male. Of course, to a certain extent, you can’t know that until you do. Have you heard of Schrodinger’s Cat? No? Look it up before you talk to Gina on Tuesday. The thing is, if you are not dead set on developing as a boy and it doesn’t bother you to not hurry, then why would you hurry? On the other hand, if it bothers you that you’re not developing, either as a boy—or a girl—then, you need to be having a different conversation. Does that make sense?”

Suddenly, I come out of the space storm and the static on the forward screen is gone!

I smile, “Yes, it does.” I giggle, “But it scares me because that was as convoluted as some of the conversations the Circle has and I followed it!” Then I sigh, “I still don’t have an answer, but I think I have the right questions to consider.”

She nods, “What Gina is proposing is potentially putting you on a hormone blocker for a short while—until you’re certain which way you want to go. There is, under normal circumstances, absolutely no harm in it. It just further delays what is already delayed in your case.”

I go over and give her a big hug. I look at her surprised face and say, “Thanks, Dr. M.—Rita! That helps a lot. I’m glad I have both of you as my docs! Mom and Dad—and Jillie—all tell me it’s up to me and that they support me, and all. But, I don’t know what I want them to support! Gina gave me things to think about, but we didn’t have enough time to really talk before I had to struggle with her questions… Oh, sure, she told me—like you did—that I could call her any time, but, it didn’t seem like it was worth bothering her—with my insignificant insecurities, I mean.”

She gives me a stern look, “James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander! You never worry about calling either me—or Gina! Do you understand?”

I chase my eyes that are threatening to escape out the hatch into space and explode—or would they implode in space?

She giggles at the look on my face, “Barbie told me about that little ‘full name’ secret. I love it! I also mean it. Do we understand each other?”

I grin and nod—then hug her again.

I break the hug and say, “Thanks, Rita. I now have a clue what to think about between now and Tuesday. I can’t say I will have an answer, but at least I feel like I have a chance of finding one!”

I sigh and take my heart in my hand—I have to know!

What? I’m curious!

“Do you mind if I ask a somewhat personal question?”

She looks at me—intrigued. She says, “Jacie, you may certainly ask. I can’t promise I will answer, though.”

I nod, “Well… Monday night—when I was at your house… It was the first time… And I love Mitsi like a sister, now… But, then John showed up and…”

She giggles, “Jacie, stop! You’re chattering like a girl—and not making any sense. Except to another girl. You want to know why we sent Mitsi to public school and don’t spoil her, right?”

I’m shocked!

What? You wouldn’t be?!?!? She must be Deanna Troi in disguise!

I nod.

She smiles, “It was a joint decision. Mitsi had made friends—your Jill included—that went to public school when it was time to decide where to send her. Her Dad and I decided that friendships were worth more than snooty private education. To be honest, we knew that, with our money, we could get her in wherever she wanted to go to college. We wanted her to have a normal childhood—like we did. Her Daddy and I both grew up in middle-class families—we weren’t born into rich. Mitsi was OK with that—and we’re all glad we did it this way. She has wonderful friends—like you, Jacie. I’m not saying she wouldn’t have made good friends at St. James, you understand, but we’re happy where she is at.”

She winks, “Now—that is between us. Doctor-patient confidentiality. OK, doctor? Oh…and one more confidentiality—you know she turns sixteen in February. Please don’t let her in on the fact that she won’t need to ride the bus, anymore. Of course, none of the Circle on your route will… But, your Daddy would understand the capacity of her car better than little-ole-me would!”

She winks and I break down into a fit of the giggles.

I hug her, “Your secret is safe with me. And, thank you for all of your trusts in me today, … Rita!”

She hugs me back, ferociously, “No, thank you, Hon. You’ve been a really good friend to Barbie—her doll, as she calls you—and a perfect addition to the fierce friendship of the circle. I don’t know what you will ultimately decide, Jacie, but I know you are always welcome in our family. I also know that you need to scoot and help the other girls get ready for the real party tonight. The boys won’t be spending the night in the guest house, but you, Jacie, are most welcome. All of the Circle’s mothers are in agreement on that.”

I sit back—stunned. I look to see if she is still holding the phaser in her hand—just to see if it is set to light or heavy stun.

I carefully wipe the tears from my eyes and hug her once more, “Thank you, Rita. I won’t abuse your trust.”

She breaks the hug and looks me intently in my eyes—serious as a phaser set to kill—and says, “I know you won’t, Jacie. I know you won’t. Now, go! I will see you tonight—and I look forward to some more fun music!”

I smile and just get up to leave. I give her one more smile and leave—there is nothing really left to say.

I smirk at the Klingons in their cells on the way out. I nearly stop at the Romulan Commander’s cell to curse her for destroying my cloaking device, but just wave on my way out. James T. Kirk didn’t need one—and neither does James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander!

I ride the elevator down feeling so much better. Even if I still have no idea what to do.

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

Part Eleven

Mom drops me off at Mitsi’s and I hurry up the steps to the shuttle hanger door. I ring the doorbell and a man that I don’t know answers it. He smiles at me and says, “You must be Jacie? Mitsi said you’re the only one missing. I’m her Dad and since you’re calling my wife Rita, you can call me Scott. OK?”

I swallow as he leads me in and nod, “Yes sir, if you’re sure.”

He smiles, “I’m sure, Hon. You know the way to the pool house, right?”

I sigh. I think I take the turbolift up three decks to the bridge, then the third Jeffrey’s tube over. Right?

I see he’s still waiting for my answer and nod, “Yes, Sir. I’m pretty sure I can find it.”

I’m also pretty sure Jillie can track my phone if I get lost.

What? I already told you that this place is huge! It shouldn’t take me more than a week to walk from the main house to the guest house.

He shows me to the back door and I follow the path past the winterized pool to the pool house and Jillie opens the door before I can knock. My toes curl and my foot pops before I can go in.

What? Of course, she just kissed me! What did you think? Scurvy, maybe?

Anyway, we go in out of the cold. I help get things set up and before I know it, the guys show up with their stuff. John shows up right after that and brings his own bass guitar and amplifier.

Shortly after that, the food arrives. The Myers go all out and the catered food is delicious.

Then the guys start playing and Barbs sings lead. The rest of us sing backup and we have a blast—we also sound really good.

Scott and Rita have invited all of the Circle’s parents over and Sara and Kate’s parents are there. Jillie’s and my Dads are both, once again, out of town and so it’s just our Moms. They listen to the band for a bit, then they all go back to the main house for some ‘adult’ partying and us kids have more fun in the guest house.

After a bit, Chris comes over and sits by me. He says, “OK, Jacie—spill. Why isn’t Jimmy here? His Mom is in the house over there…”

Barbs comes over and sits down in his lap. I chase my eyes as they roll out the door and towards the pool. Thankfully the winter cover is on tight and they don’t roll into it.

She kisses Chris and says, “Hon, don’t ask questions that can’t be answered.”

I sigh, “Look, Chris. If I tell you, it could be really bad for Jimmy. How do I know I can trust you?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t guess you can know that. All I can say is that I like Jimmy, so there isn’t any reason for me to hurt him.”

I nod, “Yeah. You seem like a stand-up guy. You even have Barbie calmed down enough to sit in your lap! I never thought I would see the day!”

She giggles and kisses him again.

I fight to keep my eyes in and say, “OK, Chris. Here’s the thing… I am Jimmy.”

He nods, “Yeah, I know.”

I run after my eyeballs again.

When I get back, I ask, “Huh? How? Wha…?”

He smiles, “It was pretty self-evident. You call Barbs ‘Barbie’ and only Jimmy ever really does that. You also call Jill ‘Jillie’—again, a Jimmy thing. Now, that could just be spillover from Jimmy to his cousin, but it didn’t add up. I mean the biggest thing is that you are never both in the same place—like Clark Kent and Superman. Plus—Christmas vacation has to be over everywhere by now, right?”

I sigh and nod. I give him an emploring look, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

He shakes his head and I ask, “And the other guys?”

He smiles and calls out, “Hey guys, we won’t out Jimmy at school, right?”

There’s this joint response, “Nah!” Sam says, “It’s about time that he admitted who she is—now Jill can have some fun, too!”

I see Klingons everywhere! The Tribbles are going crazy!

I bluster, “They knew, too? How many more at school? Can I even go back?”

I look around for Romulans, Borg, Khan Noonien Singh, Q, and any other villains I can think of. I thought I got rid of anything red!

He laughs, “Chill, Dude…ette! As far as I know, no one else knows. I think the jocks are trying to stir up rumors that you’re gay, or something, but they aren’t making much progress. They’re still trying to get girls—any girls—to go out with them. I knew the senior hot girls had power, but I never realized how far down the ladder that power goes—or up. These guys couldn’t get a date at our school if their life depended on it—nor in a lot of other schools in a hundred-mile radius. Not even in college. The power of the hot girls; too bad we can’t harness that!”

He gets a funny look on his face, “Wait! That would make an awesome song! Fred! Write that down!”

“On it, Bro,” Fred exclaims. “Way ahead of you!” He is humming and jotting something down. Sara is watching and giggling.

I sigh. Nomad is right outside the window.

Jillie comes over and takes my chin in her hand, then gives me a toe-curling kiss.

Nomad explodes and the Klingons take cover. The pink Tribble population just tripled.

I feel my panties get damp and squirm a little. Chris laughs, “Now, that’s what I’m talking about, dudette! Look, we don’t care who you are—but we’d prefer you to be Jacie in the band.”

My eyeballs are halfway down the driveway before I catch them.

What? In the band? What’s he talking about?!?

I blow my eyes off and stick them back where they belong, “In the band? Me? I thought you just wanted Barbie?”

Sam comes over, holding Mitsi’s hand, and says, “No. We want you all. Barbs is a great lead singer—but you, Mitsi, Kate, and Sara are awesome singers, too, and could be backup—or even sing lead on some songs. We could really kill with the four of you. Johnny has already agreed to come on board—and so has Barbs.”

Fred pulls Sara over and asks, “So, what about it, girls? Are you in?”

Kate is busy kissing Johnny. She breaks the kiss and asks, “What do you think, girls?”

Mitsi, Jillie, and Kate all nod—then they all look at me.

I think there is about to be an immenent Dominien attack. I groan and chase my eyeballs down again.

What? Me? Sing? As a girl? In a real band? In public?

I sigh, “What would that mean, exactly? I mean besides risking being outed even more. P.S.T.K. is really popular with our school crowd, unless you have forgotten—someone would be bound to clock me, at some point. Then I would be clocked in the other sense of the word—as in pounded!”

Jillie kisses me again and I’m sure I got sucked out the hatch—I can’t breathe when she’s done.

What? My toes? Of course, they’re curled! What did you think?

Mitsi says, “Well, Jacie, you could just come to school and leave Jimmy at home. You know, pull the bandaid off in one quick jerk?”

I think she melts on the floor—I guess my phaser-look is getting better. I didn’t really mean to set it to ‘kill’, though.

Sara nods, “Why not, Jacie? You have our protection! You’ve seen what we can do when we set our minds to it—and put our connections to good use. If you want to come to school as Chrissie or Jacie, then you should!”

I sigh, “It’s not that easy, guys! I mean… I don’t know what I want. I like being Chrissie-slash-Jacie—it’s a long-forgotten dream come true. But, I don’t think I’m ready for that at school. I need more time…”

Jillie kisses me again—deeper than ever. She breaks the kiss with an audible ‘smack’. She wipes the lipstick off the edges of my lips with her finger and sighs, “Look, Jacie. No one is pressuring you. We are all here to help you. If you need more time, then take it. But, you can still sing in the band as Jacie—she’s not known in school. You’ll just have to be someone besides Jimmy’s cousin for the band. We’ll figure something out—and it could be a good way for you to experiment with what you want?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Rita’s voice comes from the doorway. I jerk my head around and see her smile, “Jacie, that would give you the opportunity to interact and socialize as a girl and see if that is what you ultimately want. It’s not quite as good as doing so at school, but I understand your hesitation there. Think about it, OK? For now, it’s time for the boys to come to the main house for the night. It is two a.m., after all!” She laughs and is obviously in a good mood as she ushers Chris, Sam, Fred, and Johnny out of the guest house.

I feel a little guilty at getting to stay—especially now that they know about me. But, only a little. They are strapping young men in the prime of their puberty—while I’m…not.

Mitsi still insists that Jillie and I sleep in one of the rooms by ourselves.

And that’s all I’m going to say about that! Well, that and reality is so much better than dreaming!

What? You mean you don’t think so?

What? Are back to asking that, again?! I told you! I’m not telling! And don’t go asking Jillie either!

Oh, bosh! Who cares? Go ahead. She can still only purr right now, anyway!

---

I sit in Nurse Felix’s side room and fret over what I agreed to over the weekend.

What? You weren’t paying attention again, were you? You were too busy trying to be nosy about things that don’t matter to you!

Anyway, I finally agree to be in the band as Jacie. They all kept badgering me while we cleaned up on Sunday.

What? No, they didn’t pressure me—‘strongly encourage’ is how they put it.

What? OK, yes, Klingons do that with disrupters, too. But, that’s not how it was—they really want me to be a part of the band. So, I finally gave in.

Now, I’m beginning to think there are Klingons around with disrupters—maybe teaming up with the Romulans and the Dominien? Would they team up? Pink Tribbles help us!

Gina comes in and breaks my reverie. I am relieved—until I remember she will want an answer on the other issue.

She smiles, “Hi, Jimmy. How are you doing? I hear from Rita that you joined a band—as Jacie? Is that true?”

I duck—the Klingon disrupter shot almost gets me, but goes wide!

I sigh, “Yes, Ma’am. I…hope it’s the right thing.”

She looks at me with her head cocked, “You’re not sure?”

I shake my head, “I’m still worried that someone will figure it all out. I mean, the band did—I didn’t tell them about Jacie, but they still figured out it was me. How long will it be before more people figure it out? If the jocks get ahold of that piece of information, then I’m not sure the shields the girls have put up around me will hold.”

She smiles, “Afraid of the Borg, are you?”

I run after my eyes before someone steps on them out in the hallway—you know how kids are in school hallways. Paying attention is not something that is normal.

She giggles, “Well, like Rita, I have noticed your propensity to mention all things ‘Star Trek’. I’m not a tried-and-true Trekkie, like Rita, but, I do know a thing, or two.” She winks at me.

I sigh and check my eyes for foreign matter before sticking them back in, “Well, aside from not considering myself any good at singing, my biggest worry is the Borg, the Klingons and Romulans, the Dominien, and Khan finding out about me. So, yeah…”

She laughs and it breaks my tension as I grin. She says, “Jacie, you will be fine in the band. Jimmy, you will be fine in school. Yes, you need to be careful until you openly admit to being Jacie—or Chrissie—in school, if that is your intention. If you do that, then you will be behind other ‘shields’ than just the girls’. I have seen Jacie, though, and without knowing that hot girl is you, I wouldn’t guess it, at all. You just have to work out your backstory with the others and make sure you all stick to it.”

I take a deep breath and nod.

She smiles, “So, have you thought about my question, Jacie? And, yes, I am calling you Jacie. I think it is more fitting, so, unless you tell me otherwise, that is what I’m going with. Is that OK with you?”

I nod.

What? Yeah, it freaks me out! I see a Borg cube outside the office. It also feels…right. Resistance is futile, after all.

She nods back, “OK, Jacie. Your blood results came back completely normal. You’re not intersexed and there is no indication of any other issues that would prevent your puberty from starting. You are just a plain-Jane late-bloomer. But, you will start—and I think soon. Especially, if you get sexually aroused at any frequency—and I think that may be the case, now?”

I sigh as I chase my eyes down, again!

I nod timidly once they’re back in.

She smiles, “I figured as much. Jill is hot and you’d have to be a Vulcan to ignore her—unless she maybe has a field of orange flowers around and then even that wouldn’t work.” She winks and I barely keep my eyes in where they belong. I will probably have black eyes from slapping my hands to my face so hard to keep them in, though.

She waits and when I don’t say anything she adds, “Look, Jacie, I’m not pressuring you. But the longer you wait, the likelier it becomes that you will start puberty—male puberty. Now, if it’s not something that bothers you, then there is no problem. I don’t really think that’s the case, though—am I right? At the very least, you’re not sure?”

I sigh—deeply.

The Borg cube has come closer. I hear the hive’s mantra in my head, ‘Resistance is futile!’

I nod, but don’t trust myself to say anything.

She looks at me intently. I feel like she’s the Borg Queen and is transporting straight through my shields.

Finally, I say, “I…I…I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think I want to go through puberty as a male—but, I don’t know that I can be a girl, either. I don’t really know anything about being one—other than I love being in the Circle, and wearing the clothes and makeup, and being a part of the conversation, and…”

She laughs as she gives me a coy look out of the side of her eye.

What? I don’t get it? What’s her point?

What? You do? Really?

Care to clue me in?

“Jacie,” she asks, “did you just hear yourself? Go through that list in your head again.”

I do as she says…

“Oh… Right…,” I sigh.

What? Yeah… Sometimes it just takes a mindmeld to get your head on straight.

She smiles, “That’s quite the list that doesn’t sound to ‘boyish’ to me. But, I agree that you don’t know what being a girl means. I also agree with Rita that this gig with the band as Jacie is a good way to explore it. I just wish it could be more full-time—like it would be if you were going to school. But, this should still be a good test for you. I also still highly recommend you go on a blocker—at least until you’re sure you don’t want to be Chrissie/Jacie. If that’s what you decide. You’re almost sixteen and I would even be OK with giving you a light dose of hormones if you want, once you are. Like the blocker, it wouldn’t result in permanent changes if only for a short time. I’ve talked to your parents and they are OK with it, as well. It is up to you, though.”

I sigh. Then I take a deep breath. Then I go for a spacewalk. Then I rinse and repeat.

What? If I’m going to try out being a girl, I have to start acting like one, right?

What? You know—not making up my mind. Then changing it after everyone thinks I have.

I look at her, suddenly dead serious. I don’t know why, but that mind meld did something to me—or the Borg have assimilated me and I just don’t know it, yet.

I say, “OK, Gina. I think you’re right. I need to know more about being a girl before I can decide to go that route—or not. I am willing to go on the blocker until school starts next year—and maybe on hormones when you say it’s OK. That will give me the summer to be Chrissie/Jacie full-time. Is that too long? Does that seem OK?”

She looks pensive and then nods, “Yes, Jacie, I think that is a good plan. That would give you about six months on hormones, which is the longest I would want to go without you fully committing to transitioning. After that, some of the changes could become much more difficult to reverse—depending on how you react to them. I don’t offer this lightly and it isn’t really the usual course—normally, I would wait for you to be on the blocker for longer and give you more time to experiment with being a girl. I think this is a special case, though, and am willing to make a highly-supervised exception. I will talk to my endocrinologist friend and we will map out the best course for you. She will likely want to see you, first—even though your baseline bloodwork is done. OK? For now, if you want, I can have Tabitha give you the blocker. She has already okayed that.”

I have that sudden feeling of impending doom—at the same time the pink Tribbles are exploding into space.

I simply nod and Gina goes out to get her.

---

The rest of the day is a blur—including classes! Thank the pink Tribbles that the Circle is looking out for me and taking good notes. All I can do is keep rubbing my arm where the little bandaid is covering the spot that Nurse Felix gave me the shot that ensures that the little tribble-makers down below don’t grow into big tribble-makers.

Jillie has already demonstrated that I don’t need…

Oops! See! I told you I was distracted and you almost got me to talk about things that are none of your business!

Anyway, I have to pay extra attention during our after-school study session to make up for my lack of attention at school—before Jillie will make out with me after that. And even that has to wait until after I tell her all about my session with Gina.

Then it’s rinse and repeat with Mom and Dad after they get home.

What? Yeah… Jillie stays for supper—and then some. What’s your point?

What? No! I’m not saying anymore!

Well, besides the fact that Mom and Dad are very supportive of my decision to go on blockers and see the endocrinologist.

What? Her name is Dr. Lisa Collins.

What? The appointment? Tomorrow. Right after school. Tenth floor of the same medical building Rita’s in.

What? No, I’m still not talking about Jillie and me…

---

So, when I walk out of Dr. Collin’s office the next day, it’s with the ‘security’ of knowing that I’m healthy as a sehlat.

What? I’m not a horse!

Anyway, she agreed that I am healthy enough to be put on hormones any time after I turn sixteen and Gina is OK with it—or Rita. She said I will be on a combination of estrogen and progesterone. She also said it would be bi-weekly shots—if I decide to go through with it.

Oh, joy! Another recurring shot.

I grumble as I ride the elevator down and get into the car with Dad. He’s driving the TT today and he gives me a look. I smile and he asks, “OK, do you want to drive? Don’t tell your mother, though! You need to be careful, OK? You don’t look anything like the picture on your permit!”

I giggle and he lets me get in the driver’s seat. I carefully adjust the seat and the mirrors, then press the button to start the 220 horses. They purr like pink Tribbles on super-grain and I carefully take off.

Forty minutes later, I pull into the driveway.

What? OK, so I didn’t take the wormhole home. We may have gone on a five-year mission to explore a bit. So, sue me!

I hurry in and quickly catch up on studying with Jillie before catching up on some make-out time. She giggles as we go to my room and then my toes start curling—there isn’t much talking until supper, after that.

After supper, Jillie and I clean up the kitchen for Mom and we all talk—Mom sitting at the table.

I dry the dishes, as Jillie washes them.

What? O!M!G! Of course, we have a dishwasher? But we don’t like put the pots and pans in it.

You do? Well, good for you!

Anyway, I am drying the stockpot that we used to make the noodles in and sigh, “I don’t know, guys. Am I like doing the right thing? I still feel really confused. I am preventing myself from developing until at least my birthday—and maybe longer if Gina doesn’t think I’m ready. Even then, it may just be temporary because I could like still change my mind for several months after that.”

I put the dried pot away and grab the wet skillet. I shake my head, “Then there is this whole band thing. Am I crazy?”

Jillie comes over and kisses me. It doesn’t even phase Mom, anymore. She looks me in the eye and says, “Jacie, you will do fine.”

Mom nods, “Just give yourself time to come to an understanding with yourself, Hon. You will know what to do when the time is right. It’s your choice and you have the freedom to choose. Not all have that support, so just go with it and let it happen.”

I sigh deeply, “But, I don’t know who is me and who is not, anymore. I mean, I love coming home to being Jacie—or Chrissie. Oh, bosh! You know what I mean. It almost seems like Jimmy at school is an imposter—although, that is most certainly me, too. And the other kids are like starting to pick up on the fact that I—Jimmy—am acting more and more…well, feminine. The jocks are starting to gain traction on getting people to like believe that I’m gay.”

Jillies kisses me again and giggles, “You are, Hon. You’re a lesbian! Who knew I was? I guess we’re lipstick ones!”

Mom laughs a little uncomfortably and says, “Let’s leave the labels off—you are in love with Jill. Period. What your gender is, and what hers is, is irrelevant. But, you’re right—it is likely going to get more complicated at school with every passing week. We are all here for you, Hon. But, you’re going to have to shoulder a bigger burden than you would if you were just plain-Jane Jimmy…”

Jillie giggles at that and I sigh, once again. I finally say, “I know, Mom. Thanks for that. Really. But now I’m going to have to have broader shoulders—and that doesn’t fit with Jacie’s image.”

What? It’s true! I am going to have to carry a Gorn on them.

Mom smiles and Jillie giggles. I just shake my head and kiss Jillie, since we’re done cleaning the kitchen and she has to go home. I kiss her again at the door and my foot pops. I watch her walk across the yards to her front door, then go back to the kitchen.

Mom is still sitting at the table and she has me sit down. She gives me a serious look and says, “Hon, if it’s too complicated, we can make it happen that you go to Jacie. We’ve discussed this, though.”

I sigh, “I know Mom. I’m just not ready for a step that big, yet. I know that if I stay this course that I’ll have to cross that bridge next year. I’m more comfortable as Chrissie/Jacie than I would have ever thought possible when I started doing this for Barbie. I’m really thankful that my memory was freed—but is it sort of like Khan being awakened from his forced sleep? Maybe it would have been better if the memory had remained repressed?”

Mom sighs and shakes her head, “That’s a question for Rita—or Gina. But, I can’t believe it was healthy for it to be in a cryotube like that—to use your analogy. Something was bound to wake it up—at least now you have the opportunity to make the choice before your body made one that you may not want.”

I nod and give her a hug. “Thanks, Mom. I know you’re right. I’m going to go to bed to think about this. I need to come up with a backstory for Jacie and mentally prepare myself for becoming a female backup singer in a fairly popular band. I guess that means I’m going to need more girl’s clothes. That should make Daddy happy!”

Mom laughs and I hug her again and go upstairs. When I finally get to sleep, I have the most wondrous dreams of Tribbles and Klingons getting along. The Borg are dancing to P.S.T.K.’s music and aren’t trying to take over the universe. Khan winks at me and yawns as the Gorn on my shoulders shrinks into a little chameleon that looks just like Rapunzel’s pet, Pascal.

My dream fades into blackness and I fall into a deep slumber. I still have no idea what is going to happen, but, somehow I am coming to be at peace with myself.

I mean if Tribbles and the Klingons can come to peace, then everything must be OK!

Err…right?

---

The rest of the week goes by quickly. A new routine has formed within the Circle, though. Everyone has a boyfriend…

What? O!M!G! No! Not Jillie and I—you know what I mean!

Anyway, with the jocks being the school pariahs, the band members’ status in school rises. I am also being pulled more and more into the Circle’s wider social circle—including hot, i.e., ‘popular’, girls that are juniors and seniors. Of course, it’s a nightmare tightwalk for me. My status as Jillie’s boyfriend and the guys in the band covering for me helps, but I do get asked by several of the girls why I’m wearing mascara and eyeliner—and have my ears double-pierced. The studs are harder to hide when you’re looking for them. Jillie just deflects it all with saying that she thinks it’s hot and I’m doing it for her.

I’m not sure they all buy it.

I kind of feel like I have pointy ears and green blood.

Oh, and the jocks are really peaved. I’m pretty sure if any of them ever caught me alone, it wouldn’t bode well. Thankfully, I’m either always with the girls—or there are cameras around. The only time that it gets dicey is in the bathroom. After one really close call, I don’t go to the bathroom at school, anymore.

Of course, I have come really close to wetting my panties on an occasion, or two. Maybe being a Borg wouldn’t be so bad. Do they have to pee? I don’t think so…

What? Have you ever seen one go to the bathroom?

Anyway, the girls pull me even deeper into Jacie-land after school every day to prep me for my role in the band. They are teaching me to do my makeup differently—I’m going to be a distant cousin of Fred’s and a highschool dropout that would have been a senior, so I will be like wearing it a little more heavily and more like sophisticated.

They have also convinced me to start growing my fingernails out more.

What? O!M!G! No! Not glamour-length, or anything. They will be a little long for Jimmy, but actually a little on the short side for Jacie. It’s like all about compromises.

Err…right?

Anyway, when the girls decide we need to go to the mall after school on Friday to shop for clothes for Jacie, there isn’t much I can say. It turns out that some of the ‘upper’ hot girls—you know, like the juniors and seniors—are coming, too. I almost back out, but Jillie talks me out of it.

So, we all meet at Sara’s after school. I have a basic Jacie outfit in a gym bag, along with my extensions and glasses. I put the bag in Sam’s trunk during school and get it out when he drops us off at Sara’s. We go in and I quickly change clothes and put on my makeup after putting in the contacts. The girls help me put in the extensions and I put on my glasses.

I look in the mirror and smile—Jacie’s back and doesn’t look at all like Jimmy.

Mitsi looks at me and gives me a hug, then asks, “OK. Does everyone have their signed consent forms?”

I look at her, “Consent form? Like for what?”

Jillie giggles and gives me a toe-curling kiss. She hands Mitsi two sheets of paper and says, “Here are mine and Jacie’s.”

I give them all an exasperated look. I smell Klingons—and not the kind that get along with Tribbles.

Mitsi smiles and says, “Well, the girl members of the band are going to do a little bonding today…”

I feel the Gorn on my shoulder getting heavier.

Sara says, “Jen’s boyfriend works at ‘The Ink Hole’ and is going to do the work.”

What? Jen? Jennifer Simpson is one of the senior hot girls. Everyone… Oh! You were pulling my leg, again. Like quit it! O!M!G!

I ask, “Isn’t that a tattoo parlor?”

Kate giggles, “Yeah. We thought about getting matching tatts, but some of our parents like wouldn’t go for that. We convinced them that getting our belly buttons pierced isn’t a permanent thing, so…”

I exclaim, “O! M! G! I can’t like get my belly button pierced! What are you like thinking?”

Jillie gives me another toe-curling, foot-popping kiss. She breaks it with a loud ‘smack’ and says, “It’s something that Jacie would have—especially when all the other girls in the band do. Sorry, Hon, but you’re just going to have to take one for the team on this one. Your mother signed the form, after all.”

I see the disrupter fire coming from four directions at once—I can’t duck it. Thankfully, the Borg pull me out just in time.

What? Of course, they assimilate me. Resistance is like futile, after all...

So…

An hour later, we are all shakily standing—everyone of us as pale as a victim of the dikironium cloud creature—with glistening jewels adorning our navels.

What? No! It didn’t hurt like I thought it would. O!M!G! It was like a hundred times worse!

From there, we go to the mall and spend three hours going through shops after we meet up with Jen, Paige, and Noel.

What? Like, you already know Jen! Who? Oh… Paige Thompson is another senior popular girl and Noel Wells is a junior one. You really didn’t know that?

I easily spend the five hundred dollars that Mom coaxed out of Daddy for the expansion of my wardrobe—plus the extra two hundred that she gave me on top of that.

Chris picks us up and drives us home after we eat at Emerald Wednesdays and I fall into bed, exhausted, after kissing Jillie good night and putting away my clothes.

What? Of course, Jillie helped me put them away!

What? O!M!G! Of course, I had to model everything for her and Mom. Mom was just a little worried about the look the girls had chosen for Jacie in the band, but, in the end, agrees that it certainly takes away any suspicion of Jacie being Jimmy.

What? Like, let me sleep! Of course, Daddy had a minor coronary when he found out that I spent it all. It got worse when he saw my bejeweled navel.

What? Yawn! Like, yes! It hurts a lot! What did you think?

---

I yawn and look at myself in the mirror. It was around one a.m. when I finally got to bed and two things tell me that what happened yesterday wasn’t some dream. First, the huge dilithium cystal in my belly button is glistening brightly. Second, it still hurts like I imagine having a Ceti eel larva enter my ear.

I take a shower and gingerly disinfect the dilithium crystal. Then I get into full Jacie ‘band-mode’.

What? Yes, I have my appointment with Rita—but we’re having our first full band practice right after that.

When I go downstairs with my ‘older’ makeup look, ultra-short mini skirt…

What? Of course, I have leggings on! It’s like cold as Rura Penthe outside!

Anyway, my ‘older’ makeup look, ultra-short denim mini skirt, white semi-see-through blouse that lets my pink bra show through, and four-inch stiletto, open-toed pumps. I look more like an eighteen-year-old than the fifteen I am.

Mom chokes and Daddy has another mid-sized coronary. Mom says, “Umm…Jacie, are you sure…?”

Daddy is a little more forceful, “No daughter of mine…”

At that moment, Jillie comes in—unnanounced, as always—and gives off a little scream; then gives me a to-curling, foot-popping kiss. She says, “Jacie! That look is perfect! That’s exactly what we were going for for Jacie in the band! George? Cindy? Don’t you think it’s just like perfect?”

Mom shakes her head and Daddy mumbles something under his breath. Mom says, “Hon, you need to be very careful dressed like that. It’s very provocative, which may be OK in the band—but it sends signals that you may not really want to send.”

I sigh, “I know, Mom. Trust me. But, I really want to throw off any suspicion that this is me.”

Jillie giggles and Mom laughs, “OK. Just be careful. OK, Hon? Now, come on. Eat your oatmeal and then I’ll drive you to your appointment.”

Now, if I thought Mom and Daddy were being weird about my outfit, I suddenly find myself in Dr. Bashir’s shoes on Deep Space Nine when he was subjected to his inquisition when I get in to see Rita.

What? Yes, she’s like worried about the signals I’m sending and my intentions.

I talk her down and deflect by asking about my question, “I know this is weird, Rita. It’s basically a costume, though—just for the band. And yes, I’ll be very careful and stick really close to the girls. But… I have…another question.”

She looks at me, her head cocked. She looks like she isn’t ready to drop my outfit, just yet, but is intrigued with my change of course.

Finally, she sighs, “OK, Jacie. I will let this drop—for now. But, we will continue this later—when you’ve had a chance to see what happens. So, what is your question?”

It’s my turn to sigh, “Well. I was wondering if it would have been better if my memory had remained repressed? I mean, then I wouldn’t be struggling with any of this…”

She nods and then shakes her head—then nods again. She looks really pensive and says, “Well, Jacie. It’s never good to repress a memory for too long. You repress them to give yourself time to heal from such intense mental anguish that you can’t process it—but you have to process it, eventually. Sometimes a repressed memory can remain that way for a really long time. Yours, however, was bound to come bouncing back—at least this way, it was in about the best circumstances you could have asked for. Imagine if something had triggered it years from now and you were married to someone that is not nearly as understanding as your Jillie is.”

I sigh and nod, “OK. I get it…I think. I just am like so tired of trying to figure this all out. I just want the decision—and everything to be like over with.”

She smiles, “Welcome to growing up, Hon. This is certainly a curve ball in those regards, but, essentially like any other ‘grown-up’ decision you have to make—and live with the consequences. I know you think you’re a mess. Let me tell you, however, that you’re handling this better than many others that I know. Gina thinks so, too. But, you have a wonderful support structure and that makes a huge difference. Don’t fret about it so much, Hon. Just use these next few months to see how things go—and keep talking to me and Gina. And keep asking such great questions.”

She looks at me and her eyes crinkle as she says, “And just be really really careful about the signals you send out dressed like that!”

I smile wanly, “OK, Doc. Warning noted. Your daughter was one of the main instigators of this look, though!”

She nods and says, “Yes, I figured. I will be having a talk with her—I will be holding her responsible for keeping you safe in that getup. Now, go to practice and good luck with the gig tonight!”

I gulp!

The Gorn just turned into a huge Horta.

“Gig,” I exclaim. “Like what gig?”

Rita looks at me in complete surprise, “The one at that new hip restaurant downtown. What’s it called? ‘The Golden Egg’, or something like that…”

I start trembling, “We’re playing a gig tonight—at the ‘The Greek Goddess’—the place that has a waiting list for reservations that’s weeks long? You’re kidding me, right? This is some kind of test?”

She smiles, “Well it isn’t the ‘Kobayashi Maru’, if that’s what you’re asking. And no, it’s not a test, at all. At least not my test—much more so, the restaurant’s. If I understand it all correctly—if you do well tonight, you could get a long-term contract to play there on the weekends.”

I feel faint, but Rita just gives me a big hug and says, “You’ll do fine, Hon! I’m sure of it—just be careful dressed like that!”

I groan and hug her back.

I fight through the Romulans to the waiting area. Jillie and Mom are waiting and notice my ‘mood’. They look at each other and don’t say anything as I fight through more Romulans to the elevator. We ride down in silence.

Once we’re in the car, I almost scream at Jillie, “Did you know that we have a gig tonight? At the ‘The Greek Goddess’? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

She hugs me and says in a soothing voice, “Because we knew you’d react this way. We wanted to let you see how well you do at practice before we told you. No one thought about Rita mentioning it.”

I duck the Klingon fire and yell at Mom to take evasive maneuvers to avoid the Borg cube.

Jillie keeps her voice calm and enunciates each word, “Jacie! Look at me! It will be fine!”

I shake my head and Mom just quietly smiles at me in the rearview mirror.

She drops us off at Mitsi’s house and we go to the guest house where the band has set up. I am very quiet and the others quickly pick up on it.

Jillie simple says, “Rita spilled the beans.”

Mitsi says, “Oh! Right! Like, I didn’t even think about that. I should have warned her to keep that under wraps.”

I want to scream, but Chris says, “Well, then—let’s get started. Jacie, you have an awesome voice and there is nothing to worry about. No one will ever suspect that you’re Jimmy looking like that. Now, we may have to hire extra security to keep the guys away…”

I am suddenly buried in Hortas.

“Oh great! Like, just perfect! I’m going home. Who will take me?”

Jillie just gives me a toe-curling, foot-popping kiss and pulls me to the back-up singer microphones—and they start playing.

After the third song, I’ve found my voice again and am feeling better.

Until…they make me sing lead on the fifth. I start out with a croak and we start over. On the third try, I nail it and can feel my face splitting with a smile when I hear the playback from the recording that Johnny made on his computer, using a good-quality Yeti microphone. It’s not a studio-quality recording, but it’s plenty good enough for me to clearly discern that I’m as good as Barbs.

As a matter of fact, we are all good. I just happen to harmonize perfectly with Johnny. Barbs is perfect with Chris. Jillie is really good with Sam. Kate and Sara both do really well with Fred.

In short—we rock. And I feel a confidence that I have never felt before.

Chris looks at his watch and says, “OK, let’s break it down. We need to be set up at the Goddess in two hours and ready to go in three. Good work, people!”

Us girls all do a group hug, then we all give our significant others a huge good-luck kiss.

And we get to work breaking things down.

Suddenly, the Klingons and the Tribbles seem to be getting along again.

I smile.

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

---

What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

---

 

Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2018 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

---

Hi All,

I have to sincerely apologize to my readers for the original version of this Chapter. :-)

I took Barb's comment to heart--I didn't take it as her criticizing me, in the least. But, she was right--I did rush this one, much too much. I am not going into the reasons, but just know that I had them.

At any rate, I hope this is more in line with what those of you that have supported the story deserve. It doesn't change the story, but I hope it adds to it. Please feel to revise/add to your comments, if you disagree (or agree, for that matter).

I left my original comment at the end, so that new readers will have context for the original reader comments. I think I can safely say, there seems to be interest in a continuation. :-)

Once again, thanks to all of you for supporting the story and Happy New Year!

HUGS!
S

Part Twelve (REVISED)
I look around the stage set up in the restaurant and am suddenly nervous again. We have just finished getting everything set up—well, the guys have, since it’s only the instruments that really need setting up—amidst the backdrop of the crowded restaurant.

Why a Greek-themed restaurant has become the hottest item on the preppy teens’ and twenty-somethings’ list of places to go in town is anyone’s guess, but here we are. It supposedly has to do with ties to the ‘Greek life’ on the campuses around.

What? Oh, yeah. There are three university/college campuses within easy driving distance—all with their own set of ‘Greeks’.

Oh! Did I mention I am nervous, again? I feel like the restaurant has been transported to Pollux IV and Apollo is going to come out any minute and point his finger at us.

What? The Borg? Yeah—they’re there, too. Oh! And Q…

I check to make sure my white blouse hasn’t turned red, as Chris does the first ‘mic check’.

What? Of course, it hasn’t! O!M!G! Really?

Then, I chase my eyes down the steps to the stage when I see a table full of the jocks from school—without any girls, of course.

I can actually feel Greg’s lust as he stares at me—and the heat as they glare at everyone in the band but me.

I get my eyes back in without a waitperson tripping on them and look at Chris, who is beckoning to me. I sigh and go over to him and have to go chasing my eyes down again—this time they make it into the kitchen and get a little greasy, making it harder to keep them in.

What? No! It’s the slippery kind of grease—not the sticky kind!

Anyway, he says, “I talked to Apollo, the owner, and he wants us to do some songs from ‘Mamma Mia’ and Barbs says you know the words to all the ABBA songs?”

What? I like ABBA. So, sue me! I can’t wait for ‘Mamma Mia 2’, although they better not have killed off Donna!

Anyway, I split my attention between trying to keep my slippery eyes in and focusing on what Chris—who suddenly seems to have turned into a back-stabbing Cardassian—is trying to say. He hasn’t quit talking, “…and so, we want you to take the lead. Everyone else is comfortable playing the music from the sheets and the backups can read the words, if they need to—but the lead has to know the words. This is make-or-break on getting the long-term contract!”

I hiss at Chris, “You can’t just like fake ‘ABBA’! That’s like trying to fake Elvis! Besides, I don’t want to be out front and center—I don’t really want to be up here, at all. Are you like crazy?”

His face falls and Jillie pulls me to a back room, where we are out of sight, and gives me a toe-curling, two-foot-popping kiss.

What? O! M!! G!!! Yes!!!! I’m on my knees and out of breath!!!!! I must be out the hatch again—I’m not sure I’m tethered, though!

She breaks the kiss with her signature ‘smack’ and asks in a coy voice, “Do it for me? For us? For all of us?”

I sigh and try and pull myself back in the hatch—the lifeline is frayed and in danger of breaking. And there’s a Romulan Bird-of-Prey coming in fast!

I sigh, “Jillie! Did you see that table out there? The one full of jocks? I can’t have the spotlight on me—no matter how good this disguise is!”

She nods and says, “And did you notice that you’re the only one they have eyes for? Greg looks like he wants to eat you like pink cotton candy!”

O!M!G! There like go my eyes again!

I giggle at my next thought and exclaim, “I know! He is like a Ferengi and wants to acquire me. I think he would like me to be the Ferengi female—you know naked and at his beck and call.”

Then I get serious again, “And that’s why I can’t do this, Jillie! I mean like really?”

And I’m suddenly out in deep space again, my toes in a death curl and my feet totally useless. I can’t breathe until I hear the ‘smack’ of the hatch closing. I take in greedy gulps of air and look into her endless deep-green eyes framed by her flame-red hair.

What? I’m in love!

“Resistance is Futile”, keeps running through my head.

I sigh deeply and say, “If this goes badly, it’s on all of you and I will sell you to the Ferengi!”

She giggles, “Females aren’t allowed to conduct trade, remember?”

I nod, “If this goes badly, I won’t be female. Besides, the ‘The Ferengi Rules of Acquisition’ are subject to interpretation and depend on the situation, so if there is enough gold-pressed latinum involved…”

I shrug.

What? O!M!G! Would I like really sell them? Of course not!

Err…I think.

Jillie squeezes both of my hands and I feel her lifeline tether to me. I sigh and nod. She wipes the lipstick off the side of my mouth with her finger and refreshes it for me.

Then we go back out and Jillie nods at Chris. He looks at me and I try to pull the knife out he put in my back. It’s not quite ready to come out—we’ll have to see how this goes.

I nod and he takes the main microphone as the lights dim. He hands it to Apollo, the owner, and I suddenly feel like I’m on Pollux IV, again—and wearing a red dress. Depending on how this goes, it could result in the same fate for him as for that Apollo…

He introduces us, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce P.S.T.K. to you as tonight’s entertainment. As is tradition, they will start out with some songs from ‘Mamma Mia’!”

There is some mild clapping.

Chris shouts, “Good evening, Greeks! Are you ready for some fun?”

There is a lone shout back, “Just get on with it! We want to hear the hot girl sing!”

I look and it’s Greg. I reign in my phasers. Not that the other girls do. Greg melts into a puddle of greasy goo on the floor and we have to take a break while someone cleans up the spill at Table Eight. They are certainly honoring the name of the band, tonight!

What? O!M!G! Of course not! You know what? I have a bridge on Vulcan I can sell you like cheap. Interested?

Anyway, Fred counts us in and they start playing ‘I Have a Dream’. I miss my first cue and blush, but close my eyes—that I’m trying really hard to keep in—and start out a little timidly on the second go-round.

I pretend I’m out in space, floating in an isolation suit—all alone. I feel my tether to Jillie and my voice gets stronger—I’m just singing for myself. No one else can hear me.

When the song comes to an end and the music stops, you could hear a pin drop in the place. Then wild applause after the stunned silence.

I blush as I feel a tight hug from behind and see Jillie’s arms around me.

Then Fred counts us in on ‘Dancing Queen’, followed by ‘Does your Mother Know?’—and it’s finally time for a short water break.

I’m completely drained. I feel like Seven-of-Nine at the end of her cycle—in total need of my charging station.

The applause dies down and we all get a bottle of water to rehydrate. I notice Greg eyeing me again. He has a funny look on his face—suddenly, he reminds me of the Cardassian.

I shudder and turn around to find Apollo talking animatedly to Chris—the others start gathering around him and I go to see what’s going on. I come in on the tail-end of what he is saying, “…like to offer you a contract, right now. You’re great! I assume you can play more contemporary stuff, too?”

Chris says, “Yes Sir, we can play most anything that’s currently popular. What are you thinking for a contract?”

Apollo smiles, “We’ll talk details later, OK? I’m sure we’ll come to a deal. Now, get back to playing!”

I breathe a sigh of relief when I can fade to the background and Barbie takes over for some of the more currently popular songs.

---

I’m somewhere between being totally drained and totally exhilarated when our first true ‘set break’ comes up. We have a twenty-minute break to get a snack or something to drink—and use the restroom. And I need to go.

What? You don’t see the issue?

Really?

OK, let me clue you in. I’m not Borg, so I have to pee.

What? I thought we established they don’t have to pee?

Anyway, I have never had to go while out as Chrissie or Jacie—other than on that first outing to the mall.

What? I held! Remember?

Anyway, I still don’t feel comfortable going to the women’s room. I mean still think there has to be some sort of Cosmic Guard there with a phaser set to kill and making sure guy’s don’t go into the women’s room—even if they are dressed like a hot girl.

Jillie comes over—oblivious to my discomfort—and says, “Come on, Jacie. Let’s go freshen up, Hon!”

She takes my hand and pulls me towards the women’s room and I pull back before we can enter.

I mean, I need to chase down my eyes, anyway.

She hisses in my ear, “Don’t make a scene. I know you have to go after all that water you drank!”

I sigh and let her pull me into the forbidden sanctum of womanhood. I am sure we pass through some black hole into an alternate dimension and then a wormhole when we pass through the door.

Luckily, the only ones in here, at the moment, are the other Circle girls and they fall all over me and congratulate me on how great I sang the ABBA songs. I squirm and Jillie giggles, “Let her pee, girls!”

She looks at me and giggles again, “Make sure you sit!”

I hold my retort, since a young woman we don’t know comes in. I blush and go into one of the stalls and take care of business.

What? Details? Are you sick? Pervert!

I come out and the girls are all around the huge, well-lit mirror—the strange woman included—chatting and ‘freshening up’. The woman looks at me, “Hon, that was awesome! I’m told you’re going to sing some more in the second set?”

What? Where did she hear that? Several Borg beam in.

Kate says, “Yes, she’s our secret ABBA weapon!”

I try and dodge the disrupter fire from the Klingons storming the room, and barely get out of the way. I’m out of breath, though.

The woman smiles and leaves. Jillie gives me a quick kiss and says, “Breathe, Love! You’re fine!”

She pulls me back out into the restaurant—and we run right into…Greg coming out of the men’s room.

I chase my eyes that have found their way into a hot pot of soup on the stove in the kitchen. My whole face is on fire when I pop them back in.

He is once again beaming one piece of clothing off of me at a time, using his eyes as transporters. My eyes are still steaming from the hot soup and the steam pressure is beginning to build in my head—and will soon escape out my ears.

Jillie squeezes my hand and says, “Hello, Greg. What are you doing here? Planning on going Greek in hopes of getting a sorority girl when you grow up?”

He turns red and ignores her. He looks straight at me and says, “Hello, I’m Greg Chapman. I don’t think you’re from around here? Although, there is something familiar about you.”

Suddenly, the Tribbles are going crazy and there are disrupter beams coming at me from all directions. I take a glancing hit and it wakes up my survival instincts. The Klingons won’t get me! I won’t let them!

I smile and say, “No, I’m Fred’s cousin from Nebraska. I dropped out of school and decided farming isn’t for me—so, he offered me a spot on the band while I work on my GED.”

Greg is nodding his head, but the Tribbles won’t settle down. He states more than asks, “So, I assume you don’t have a boyfriend?”

I shake my head, “Sorry. I’m not on the market.”

He turns even redder and says, “Is that so? You don’t look like Fred. I’ll figure this out…”

He turns and leaves and the Tribbles are going crazy. The red alert claxons are going wild. I’m back out in space without a suit.

I feel Jillie pulling me back in by my tether. She takes me back to that back room and shuts the door behind us. She gives me a deep kiss, but I’m so distraught that my toes don’t have the energy to curl.

She gives me a serious look and says, “Greg Chapman is stupid! He’ll like never put two and two together to figure out that Jacie is actually Jimmy. Breathe, Hon! Breathe!”

My hands are shaking so hard, I’m not sure I can go back out there. I sigh, “Jillie, stupid, or not, I have a bad feeling about this! He may not figure it out—tonight, or ever. But, someone will. I can just feel it!”

She squeezes my hands to stop them from shaking and gives me another kiss. My foot makes a lame attempt at popping. She breaks the kiss and looks me straight in my eyes, “James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander! I love you! The Circle is behind you. The band is behind you. Yes, it’s your life—but how long can you keep your demons hidden?”

I don’t get a chance to retort that the Borg are way worse than mere demons. There is a sharp knock on the door and it swings open from the force of the knock.

Something doesn’t seem right about that; I could have sworn we latched it behind us, but it looks like it was just leaned to instead. Chris pokes his head in with a strange look on his face and says, “Three minutes!”

His look distracts me. Why? You really have to ask? Why would he think it’s strange that Jillie and I are alone behind closed doors? I mean, really?

Jillie nods at Chris and fixes my lipstick after giving me another kiss. My foot almost pops this time. She just smiles at me and says, “It’ll be alright, Hon! I’m right there behind you!”

I smile back wanly and shake my head. I want to say that I just don’t think her shields will be strong enough to protect us, but Sara pokes her head in and says, “One minute!”

I want to scream! This isn’t some huge concert with thousands of people waiting! Just like a hundred, or so.

And a table full of Cardassians…

We go back out onto the stage—in spite of the feeling of impending doom—to a rousing applause. I somehow find the strength to sing ‘Fernando’ and ‘Waterloo’. Feeling my strength coming back, since the world hasn’t ended in some huge explosion, I sing three more to more loud applause. I’m actually starting to feel good. The Tribbles are even starting to purr a little.

We take a quick water break and Chris asks me, “What did Greg Chapman want?”

I shrug as the Tribbles shrink back a little, “We just ran into him coming out of the bathroom and he was asking who I am…”

He shakes his head and says, “No, I mean outside your d…”

At that moment, Apollo comes on stage and takes the microphone off of its stand. He smiles brightly and says, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it appears we have a romantic in our crowd tonight! Mr. Chapman would like to ask Ms. Jacie of our wonderful band here a question. Give it up for Greg!”

The red alert claxons going are deafening. I want to put my hands to my ears to drown out the noise—not hear the alerts to danger.

Chris gives me a concerned look—I barely register it.

All I can see is a smirking Greg as he takes the microphone and smiles at me—well, it looks more like a Cardassian ‘smiling’. A Cardassian crossed with a Gorn. Suddenly, the knife that Chris put in my back is insignificant. I feel like I just had a bad transporter accident and my body is put together in some strange way with the way people are looking at us.

I’m pretty sure the next knife to my back will be fatal.

I feel Jillie’s arms surround me from behind, but I know her shields aren’t strong enough.

Greg says, “Well, ‘Jacie’, is it? I would just like to know if that’s how you plan to come to school on Monday—or if you’ll just come as that tranny-fag, ‘Jimmy’?”

There is a loud buzzing in the restaurant as people stare at my disfigured body from the transporter accident.

It slowly fades as I’m sucked out the hatch with no protection.

My tether breaks as I feel Jillie’s hold on me break. I quickly run out of oxygen and embrace the blissful cold blackness of open space as my eyes slowly float away.

---

“My God! He’s dead, Jim! Why did you let him wear red?” I groan as the voice in my head is replaced by mummering, then more coherent words, “Jacie! Chrissie! Jimmy! James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander! Wake up!

Then I feel my toes involuntarily curl as I am sweetly and gently kissed on the lips.

My eyes pop open—and are intact and in my head for some reason. I have no idea who put them back in—nor why they didn’t just implode in space.

I stutter, “Where… Wha…?”

Jillie kisses me to shut me up and when she breaks the kiss, she says, “You’re in the back room. You fainted when Greg outed you out there. You’ve been out for several minutes and we brought you in here out of the chaos. Are you OK, Hon?”

I groan as it all comes back in one terrible rush. I can’t stop shivering, I’m so cold. I guess that’s what exposure to deep space does to you. I whisper, “I told you all this was a terrible idea! Now, my life’s over!”

“Not over, but certainly more complicated,” Rita says as she comes through the door, a contrite Mitsi behind her.

I stutter again, “Wha… How? Rita?”

She smiles, “Scott and I were just down the road at Vincenzo’s. I wanted to be close by—just in case. Although, I certainly was more worried about having to deal with something happening because of the way you were dressed than this!”

Mitsi says, “I’m so sorry, Jacie. Maybe if we hadn’t pushed you into something that hot, he wouldn’t have paid you so much attention. Chris says he was lurking outside the door when you and Jill were in here before. He must have followed you from the bathroom and heard you say something.”

I sigh. Now I know what was bothering me. We had closed the door. He must have opened it enough to listen in on our conversation. Of course, Jillie and I gave him just the tidbit of information he needed.

I’m too numb to even nod in acknowledgment. Jillie just says, “The bastard! I can’t believe I ever dated him! Jacie! We will figure this out! I promise!”

Kate comes in before I can even attempt a retort and says, “I…I…I hate to say this, but it’s all over the school’s social media circles, now. The other jocks were taking pictures while Greg was being the ass he is and those are now like going viral after they posted them. It’s like about a fifty-fifty split of people coming out in support of you—and others…not…”

I feel the welcoming embrace of absolute-zero space once again begin to envelope me.

Rita shouts at me, “Jacie! Snap out of it! You can’t go into a cryotube until this goes away. Not like before—neither you, nor your memories. You are old enough—and mature enough—to deal with this! Do you hear me? The Borg have assimilated you—now you can learn to deal with it. Or you can fight it. If I remember right, Piccard did—and won. Seven-of-Nine found a way to live in both worlds—well, sort of. My point is that this is not the end. You still have choices. You still have to make choices!”

The coldness of space recedes, but it leaves a different kind of cold void in its place—the Tribbles are dead, shriveled little furry corpses scattered everywhere. The Borg have won—there is no hope. ‘Resistance is futile.’

I have been fully assimilated into the ‘collective’ against my will.

I feel a cold hopelessness take over the cold void in my body and mind.

I sigh and sit up. I rub the back of my head where I was laying on an ice pack. I feel a small lump where I must have hit my head when my consciousness was sucked out of me by some new species of vampire cloud.

Jillie kisses my head and says with a rueful blush, “I’m sorry, Hon. I wasn’t expecting you to drop out cold, like that. I couldn’t hold on enough to prevent you from getting that lump.”

I grimace as I vaguely remember my ‘tether’ breaking. I sigh, “It’s OK, Jillie. It’s not your fault that asshole outed me!” Then I groan, “But, what now? There’s no way I can go back to school, after this.”

Jillie squeezes my hand and Kate says, “Well, you still have the Circle firmly behind you—and roughly sixty percent of the wider circle of popular girls are like solidly behind you; with another thirty or so trending towards supporting you.” She is busily following the social media feeds on her phone.

Somehow, I’m not reassured. I smile wanly at her for her attempt at encouragement, though. I notice Rita just sitting back and watching what’s going on. I’m not sure if that should worry me, or not.

Sara comes rushing in and stops when she sees me. She rushes over with a smile, hugs me, and says, “Welcome back to the living, Hon! Are you OK?”

I shrug and wince as I feel a headache coming on.

She continues, “Once Chris explained what was going on to Mr. Apollo, he was like furious—Mr. Apollo, I mean. Well, Chris was—is—too.”

I can’t help but smile at her rambling.

What? I have to find something to maintain my humanity!

She is rambling on, “But, like anyway, Mr. Apollo’s niece is transgendered and he is a huge supporter of LGBT rights. He thought Greg was going to ask you to the prom, or something—Greg like totally led him on. Anyways, he like threw the jocks out and banned them from the restaurant for life! Chris, Barbs, and the guys are still talking to him about the contract for the band. I need to go back and let them know you’re OK. They didn’t want to crowd you.”

I sigh, “Well, any contract will have to be without me.”

There are gasps all around.

“You can’t do that, Jacie,” Barbie exclaims as she comes in. She adds, “Mr. Apollo was very explicit in his offer that the whole band perform. He wants you—not because you’re transgendered, but because you’re good.

She seems to think about what she just said and turns beet red. She rushes over and hugs me. I wince as my head hurts again. She breaks the hug and says, “I’m sorry, Jacie! I didn’t mean to come across like an insensitive bitch! Are you OK, Hon? I mean I know you can’t be alright…but are you alright?”

I can’t help but smile at that. It’s more a frightened grimace, to be honest—I actually understood that. It scares the Hell out of me!

I nod and say, “Yes, to the latter. No, to the former.” Then I shake my sore head, “I’m sorry, guys. I really am. But I feel like I’ve been transported to a different world and am missing some pieces in my reassembly. I would be so embarrassed to go out there and try and sing again—with everyone judging me. Judging me on my ‘gender status’—not on any talent I may, or may not, have. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’re going to hold your chin up high and damn the photon torpedos, Hon!” I look up in surprise as Mom rushes over to me and gives me a huge hug.

I can’t hold back the tears anymore and let the floodgates open. She coos me and strokes my hair while I cry—being careful to stay away from my lump, once she accidently touches it and I flinch away in the beginning. I don’t even hear her feral growl when she finds it.

When I’m cried out, the hydroponic tanks on the ship are overflowing—and I look like a miserable raccoon.

I take a trembling breath and Rita asks, “Feel better?”

I nod.

What? O!M!G! I mean, I do feel better—that doesn’t mean I feel good. ‘Better’ is a relative term.

She pats my knee and gives me a hug. I sigh and say, “That doesn’t mean I know what I’m going to do, though.” I smile wanly at Mom, “Besides damning the photon torpedoes, that is.”

Mom squeezes my shoulders and Rita says, “Well, we’ll talk about that. That is what I am here for, after-all. Not as your shrink, but as the mother of one of your best friends that also happens to be a shrink.”

I can’t help but give her a double-take at that and then another when she winks at me. Jillie’s right! Mothers are different when it’s just the girls.

She says, “Look around you, Jacie. You’re surrounded by a support circle that is impenetrable. Yes, you were dealt a severe blow tonight, but that circle is here, none-the-less. And don’t discount the boys in the band. They just don’t know how to deal with all this ‘female emotional nonsense’. She makes airquotes around the ‘female emotional nonsense’.

She says, “They are just out there doing what they know how to do—be busy with something. Ironing out a contract is what helps them—it gives them something to do. But, I think you know that. It’s not like you don’t have an understanding of what it’s like to be a guy.”

I sigh and nod, “OK. But, I’m ready to get out of here. Can we just go home?”

Mom nods and Kate fixes my makeup enough that I can venture out of the room. Mom and Jillie take me between them in clear defiance of anyone—or anything—trying to mess with me. We go out into the restaurant and there is a sudden roaring applause.

I turn beet red as I duck the disrupter fire. I honestly didn’t expect that there would still be anyone here. But, I guess I was only in that back room for about half-an-hour. I also didn’t expect any sort of applause—if anything rotten tomotoes, maybe.

Mr. Apollo comes over and asks, “Ms. Jacie, are you OK? I can’t apologize enough for what happened here tonight. I can only hope that you will forgive me and come back with your wonderful band to play for my customers and for your fans?” He nods towards the crowd.

I blush as I look at the people, still standing and clapping, and sigh, “I don’t know, Mr. Apollo. I have to think about some things—but, I won’t say ‘no’, OK? As for forgiving you. For what? You couldn’t like know what Greg was up to. It’s not your fault that he’s lower than trash compactor scum.”

He smiles and takes my hands in his, “You remind me so much of my niece in Greece. Please come sing for us?”

I respond, “I will certainly think about it. I promise, Mr. Apollo. Please thank everyone for me.”

He squeezes my hands and Mom takes me out to the car as I hear him go to the microphone and announce that I am OK and that I thank them for their support.

Mom and Jillie take me home and I collapse on the couch. Rita had followed us in her own car—I have no idea where Scott is in all of this—and she comes in behind us.

The four of us talk for a couple of hours—part of which Daddy is video-conferenced in from wherever he is this time.

We talk about my ‘feelings’. I mean, they try to get me to. To be honest, I am so numb right now, I don’t have any. I feel like Han Solo frozen in carbonite—or maybe a better analogy is Anna after Elsa freezes her heart, right now. I doubt Han felt anything—I feel the cold.

What? I like ‘Frozen’. So, sue me!

After a while, after Daddy gets on, we talk about the band. I guess Chris had emailed him a copy of the contract at Mom’s bidding. Well, Mom’s bidding through Jillie texting Barbs.

Daddy says, “Hon, it’s actually a really good contract for a starting band. I mean, I’m no expert on music contracts, but I do understand contracts.”

I sigh, “That may be, Daddy, but I don’t know that I can like get in front of a crowd ever again. It was like bad enough when I was anonymous—now like everyone knows.”

I notice Rita smiling in a funny way. I don’t get it and feel a strange heat rise in my cold void. I call her on it, “What? I don’t see what’s so funny about that, Rita!”

She smiles brighter, “Good! Get mad! At least that’s an emotion—as is fear! Both can serve you well in all of this. I don’t think it’s funny, at all, that you now have a very specialized version of stage fright that you’re going to have to get over—whether you ever set foot on a stage again, or not, by the way.”

She lets that sink in before she continues, “What I was smiling at is the fact that you’re calling your father ‘Daddy’. Have you even noticed? Now, that’s not a purely girly thing to do, but…”

She lets that sink in and then shoots the torpedo that sinks the Enterprise, “And I doubt you even notice that you use the word ‘like’ a lot, now. Not in the sense of liking something, but like so many other teenage girls that throw it into sentances in really strange places. Mitsi does it, Jillie here does it, so do the other girls in the Circle. You’re picking up their bad habits—habits that I think only Jacie/Chrissie would pick up.”

My mouth opens to retort. Then closes. I need a break to go chase my eyes. They had stayed firmly in place since the ‘outing’. Now they’re on the loose again.

I finally get them back in and see Jillie just nodding in agreement with Rita. Mom is smiling at me in that funny way she does as she winks at me. Daddy…

Damn! I am doing it!

Anyway, Daddy is nodding, too. He breaks the silence, “At any rate, Hon, you should really consider the contract. As Rita just pointed out, I think, at some level, Jacie is here to stay. And I also think, that you enjoyed singing. I’ve seen the YouTubes.”

I chase my eyes down again and croak, “YouTubes?”

Jillie nods and says, “Kate has kept an eye on the social media. It wasn’t like just the asshole jocks that posted videos, some of the restaurant patrons posted videos of us singing. Since we weren’t like under contract, there was nothing illegal with that—another reason we need a contract and a manager. Anyway, there has been a flurry of postings and counter-postings. It’s like created this strange web of links between the band singing and you being outed. At this point, there is like a clear majority on your side.”

Rita breaks into my stunned thoughts, “That doesn’t mean that there aren’t enough that aren’t on your side to not be concerned—and careful, Hon. The point is, your Daddy’s right. You clearly enjoyed doing it—scared as you were. Do you want to miss out on that? Sleep on it, Hon.”

Daddy breaks in and says, “Yes, Apollo has even offered to give you tomorrow to decide—you can go and sing, if you want, and see how it goes. His offer to the band is still contingent on your decision to be in the band, though.”

I sigh. Why do I feel like the weight of the universe is on my shoulders?

I say, “That’s not fair, though, Daddy! I mean, if I like don’t want to—that shouldn’t like penalize the band!”

I shake my head and blush, “Wow! I like really say ‘like’ a lot, don’t I. That used to like drive me crazy as Jimmy.”

Rita smugly smiles and winks at me. Then she drives the final torpedo home. Well, I guess, technically, she targets it and Mom and Daddy push the launch button.

She says, “You also need to decide about Monday, Hon. How are you going to school?”

I vehemently shake my head, “That one is easy! I’m not!”

Mom takes my hands and squeezes them. She looks me in the eye and I know I’m dead—red shirt, or not. She says, “Yes, Hon, you are. You can’t hide forever. This is one horse you are just going to have to get back up on.”

Daddy jumps in and says, “I know it’s not fair, Sport, but life seldom is. Unless Rita gives us her official medical opinion that we’re wrong in sending you.”

I guess I was wrong, it is Rita that sends the death torpedo as she shakes her head and says, “No, I can’t do that, since I agree. James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander, you have to face this—both the public situation at school and the band. More importantly, you have to face yourself, I wasn’t kidding before, you can’t go back into your cryotube, Hon.”

I feel my self melt and Jillie comes and squeezes me. She whispers in my ear, “We’ve got your back, Hon. I’ve got your back—no matter what you decide.”

Mom says, “We just need to know your decision before you go to bed tomorrow, so we can let Mrs. Blackthorn know. She is, of course, already aware of what Greg and Co. have done. She’s not happy.”

When I finally get to bed an hour later, I’m drained of all energy. Another type of vampire cloud? The only thing keeping me alive is the slight energy transfer I got from the foot-popping, toe-curling kisses that Jillie gave me before leaving. Mom even let her come to my room to give us privacy for her to deliver the transfer.

I think she just wanted to talk to Rita alone, to be honest, but I enjoyed the moment—and the trust she gave us, none-the-less.

I sleep in spurts and have really weird dreams of the Borg taking me over and my body being replaced with more and more foreign parts against my will—and the Klingons laughing at me. A Cardassian stabs me in the back and a Ferengi pays the Romulan that saves me—so that he can own me and I can be his naked, submissive wife.

I finally give up trying to sleep and get up at dawn to take a long shower.

I still have no idea what I’m going to do come Monday. I do, however know, that I don’t plan on singing at the Goddess tonight.

Well, I’m pretty sure…

I mean, I really shouldn’t…

Err, right?

---

I look at myself in the mirror.

Jacie stares back at me—well, sort of. Jillie is right behind her in the mirror’s reflection and looking over her shoulder.

I sigh, “I don’t know how I let you talk me into this, Jillie!”

I’m sporting a toned-down look compared to last night, but it’s still a sort of edgy party look with a blue shorter, just-above-knee-length dress that would make any prom-going girl proud. It actually matches the blue of my eyes. I am not wearing the contacts, or the glasses. I do have the extensions in my hair, though.

What? Oh, right—you missed some things…

Jillie had come over in the early hours of the morning. She wasn’t able to sleep, either. Then the rest of the band congregates at the house a few hours later. Everyone—well, the girls, at least—give me supportive hugs. Everyone, no really this time, lets me know how worried they are.

I understand that they really are concerned about me—and not just about what I’m going to do in regards to the band.

Anyway, we sit around and discuss things for an hour. Kate brings me up to speed on the social media situation. I just can’t bring myself to go there just yet. She reports much the same that Jillie had surprised me with last night—the trends are all in my favor. Of course, that goes hand-in-hand with the trends for the band.

I know she doesn’t mean to put pressure on me, but it does. The fate of the band is in my hands—well, at least the fate of the band’s start.

Strangely enough, though, I realize that my fate is tied to the band. At least to a certain point. The discussions last night made it clear that the band can be a great ‘shield’ for me as the world comes to grips with ‘Jacie’.

If I decide to go with Jacie, that is.

The thing is, I’m not sure I could lead the double-life of Jimmy at school and Jacie in the band. So, if I decide to do the band thing, does that mean that I’m also committing to being Jacie fulltime?

I sigh and listen to the chattering of the girls and smile at the lost looks on the guy’s faces. I find myself able to keep up with the girls’ conversations and I know they can’t.

I don’t know what that means, but I’m still thinking about it when everyone but Jillie leaves and I promise to make a decision within the next hour.

---

So, anyway, now you’re caught up… Back to the story.

I sigh, “I don’t know how I let you talk me into this, Jillie!”

I’m sporting a toned-down look compared to last night, but it’s still a sort of edgy party look with a blue shorter, just-above-knee-length dress that would make any prom-going girl proud. It actually matches the blue of my eyes. I am not wearing the contacts, nor the glasses. I do have the extensions in my hair, though.

She spins me around and my breath is taken away, as my toes curl and my foot pops. She breaks the kiss and smiles, “You know it’s the right thing to do, Jacie. For the band, for Mr. Apollo’s niece, and for you.

I look at the slowly growing population of Tribbles in the room. Their come-back is less than stellar. Nowhere near warp speed—more like quarter-impulse, if that.

I sigh deeply, “I’m not doing it for Mr. Apollo’s niece—I don’t even know her. I’m certainly not doing it for me. I just want to bury my head in the sand somewhere—even if it would mean maybe having a Ceti eel larva slip in my ear. I’m not even doing it for the band. I’m really only doing it because you asked me to.”

I shrug, “I’m still not convinced it’s the right thing to do, though. At least it will keep my mind off of tomorrow—I still can’t believe my parents are making me go to school.”

She kisses me again and I’m once again in space without a suit—toes completely curled under—but securely tethered to her and she pulls me back in before I can completely suffocate.

She smiles brighter, “We’ll look out for you—me right out front. No matter how you decide to come, Hon. Now, come on—let’s fix that lipstick and go downstairs. Jeff should be here any minute to pick us up.”

We walk down the stairs. It’s a funny feeling to actually have to walk down them, again. I had sort of gotten used to the pink cascades. That river is completely dry, right now, though, and I have to carefully pick my way through the rocks in the dry river bed—in my heels.

Mom gives me a hug and says, “You look wonderful, Jacie—or Chrissie? Much more appropriate than last night. Break a leg, Hon. Rita and I both are just a text away, if you need us. OK?”

I take a deep breath and nod. The Borg implant that has replaced my vocal chords isn’t working right now, so I give her a squeeze and break the hug just as Jeff pulls up the driveway.

She pulls me into a hug one more time and says, “I’m proud of you, Jacie! Not that it matters, but I think you’re making the right decision to at least give this a chance. If you decide to not go through with the contract, after-all, at least you’ll know you gave it your best—and so will the band.”

I simply nod and try to pull some moisture back into my parched mouth. Jillie and I quickly walk through the cold to get in the van.

I’m immersed in gratitude for my bravery and compliments on my look. I’m quiet the whole ride, though. I certainly don’t feel ‘brave’. I still feel like I am in the mirror universe and don’t know who to trust and who to not.

What? Yes, I trust the Circle. They like have my back!

Err…I think…

Anyway, when I step into the restaurant—firmly gripping Jillie’s hand—I almost turn right around and retreat from the scores of enemies that flash in front of my mind. Jillie squeezes my hand and pulls me into a hug, that is suddenly expanded to one big group hug—the girls on the inside and the guys on the outside.

I giggle, “OK, guys. I’m not running—but, I can’t breathe!”

The huddle dissolves as quickly as it had formed and Chris says, “I don’t think you understand, Jacie. We all feel awful about what happened to you last night. It was all our fault.”

I start to shake my head, but Barbie just puts a finger on my lips. Chris continues, “We know how hard it is for you to even come in here, let alone sing. We are all firmly behind you, no matter what you decide. Is that clear? No matter what!” Everyone is nodding—and it’s clear they all mean it.

I feel light-headed at the love I feel from this group. I also don’t feel any better—their fate is still in my hands.

Then Mr. Apollo comes over and takes my hands, “Ms. Jacie. Thank you for coming back. I still can’t apologize enough for what happened to you, last night.”

I once again start to shake my head and retort, but he just shakes his head in a clear sign to let him finish. He says, “I talked to my niece last night and I have to admit that she put me to further shame. She quite firmly reminded me that no one in this group has any idea what you are going through, right now. She clearly understands that we are all here to look out for you, but she also, quite firmly, admonished me that it is extremely unfair to put the burden of the band on your fragile shoulders.”

Now, I truly am light-headed.

He continues, “She has seen the YouTube videos and is quite certain that you have a future in the band, but that said future will only happen if it truly is your decision—not one out of guilt, or other misguided incentive.”

I see funny looks on everyone’s faces and know they must mirror mine. I don’t know where this is going. I look around for Cardassians.

He finally blows the cotton candy that has reformed in my mind right out of it. He squeezes my hands and says, “So, Ms. Jacie, I once find myself in need of begging you for your forgiveness. I hope that you will sing with your band tonight. And I hope that you will find enjoyment in it. I hope that you will decide to stay with the band and sing with them when they perform here. But, I also want you to understand that they will be performing here—with or without you.”

He winks and I fall into his arms giving him a hug of such immense relief that I think I’m going to collapse. I fight the tears that threaten to ruin my carefully crafted makeup, but give up when I see that all of us girls are going to have some work to do.

I take a deep breath and accept the Kleenex that he offers me. I wipe my nose and nod, “Thank you, Mr. Apollo! Oh, thank you! Yes, I will sing tonight. I still can’t make any promises on what the outcome will be, but I will promise that I will give everything in me that is left to give!”

He smiles and nods and the girls pull me to the girl’s room for a serious makeup repair job while the guys finish setting up.

Kate quickly redoes all of our makeup after we completely wipe our faces clean. I find myself chattering along with them, like I had been a part of the group my entire life.

I know I am just fooling myself, though. I haven’t been—and I’m not. My day of full reckoning is still coming and there is nothing that will stop it.

Somehow, I find the strength—supplemented by the tireless energy of my Circle—to put those thoughts aside and go out with the band an hour later.

When I step out onto the stage for the first song, ‘Money, Money, Money’, however, I’m not sure my Borg voice implant is going to work. I let out a ‘squeek’ and get it going on the second cue. I just focus on keeping the damned implant working and not on anything else and am surprised to hear loud applause—I realize the song is over and I have stopped singing.

I feel Jillie’s arms wrap around me from behind—in comforting support. I look around and smile at the others, then nod at Fred. He counts us in for the next song…

The rest of the night goes OK. I mean, there are still dead Tribbles everywhere, and a few Klingon corpses, from last night. You would have thought they would have cleaned the place up better—but there were a lot of bodies after the battle.

I finally relax enough to let my shields recharge a little when no one in the crowd makes a crack about me. As a matter of fact, no one even mentions anything about me—or last night. They just seem to enjoy the food and the music.

I don’t know if Mr. Apollo somehow specially picked the crowd tonight, or not. It doesn’t seem possible, since reservations are so hard to come by. There is a clear sense of support from everyone here, though. So, my shields make it to maybe ten percent, or so. Still far too low to take a direct hit, though.

And I will be going into a full-out war at school tomorrow.

With that thought, I feel the strength of my shields drop a couple percent.

I feel my shoulders sag a little and the comforting arms snake around me from behind. I hear Jillie’s voice whisper in my ear, “We’re here for you, Love.”

I smile and we finish our last set to a roaring applause. We take our bows and convene in the back room, where I, once again, find myself in the center of a crushing group-hug.

Fred says, “That was awesome, guys! Clearly our best work, yet! Jacie, you rocked! But, how are you feeling?”

Now, being a guy under all of this, I know that’s not a normal ‘guy’ question. I also know he is genuinely asking it—for all of the guys. The girls will ply me with much more—later.

I smile and sigh, “I… I’m surprisingly OK. It was hard—but I could feel your support. All of your support—and just knowing that the pressure was off and that you were still there for me, means so much you can’t imagine!”

I smile and hug Jillie. After a foot-popping, toe-curling kiss that we break with a loud ‘smack’, I look at Chris and ask, “So, where do we sign?”

---

I sigh and look at myself in the mirror. I see the reflection of a pretty teenage girl in her school uniform. She has long, blonde hair framing her school-appropriate makeup that accentuates her striking blue eyes.

What? I had to make a choice and since I am dead, anyway, I may as well die dressed comfortably.

Err… Right?

What? Oh right—you have trouble keeping up! It must be a guy thing.

Err, you are a guy, right? I doubt a girl would find any of this interesting!

Anyway, after the signing ceremony last night, I had to make a choice. I don’t know if it was residual ‘glow’ from the support I received from my ‘peeps’ last night, or some other nudging from the Force, I just decided to Hell with it. Damn the photon torpedoes, as Mom said.

Mom had called Mrs. Blackthorn late last night and let her know my decision. And now you’re caught up, again. So, can we get back to the story?

I shudder and look at the clock.

I pick my way through the rocks back down to the kitchen, trying to avoid the newly-formed crevices in the river bottom that have been created by the extreme drought. I notice a slight pink trickle forming though. Great! Now, it will just get muddy!

Ewww!

I give Mom a hug and take my bowl of oatmeal from her. I give Daddy a hug from behind before I sit down with him at the table. Daddy had gotten home late last night and both have taken the day off for my meeting with Mrs. Blackthorn at ten. Jillie and the others are already in class—it was thought best for me to come after school had already started for my initial talk with the front office.

I look down at my bowl of oatmeal and know that I can’t choke it down anymore than I could a bowl of Klingon Gagh.

I finally give up and Mom at least has the good grace to not try and force me to eat it. She just puts some protein bars and an instant breakfast drink in my bag.

The drive to school feels like a shuttle-transport to Rura Penthe. It seems I have been sentenced to a lifetime term on the Klingon prison planet and there isn’t much I can do about it.

What? Escape? Yeah, I know the real James T. did… But, I’m just a fraud…

The shuttle docks at the front entrance of the penal colony…

What? Oh, sorry…

Daddy parks the car in a visitor’s spot and I look at the school with that feeling of impending doom.

My life has already changed forever—the Borg implants can’t be removed now.

It is getting ready to change even more.

I sigh and get out of the car, drawing on what residual energy I can from my peeps…

---

This is the end of the first book. If interest remains, I will work on book two after I get a few other things cleaned up.

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

Thanks for supporting the story and Happy New Year!

HUGS!
S

---

Jacie went to extreme lengths to help a pretty girl struggling with her past. The result was an unexpected twist of fate.

---

 

Battle of the Bangs
A Jacie Alexander Story

Copyright © 2018 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
All image originals sourced from Creative Commons.
All movie-related references made in this novel are trademarked by Paramount Pictures, Disney, Universal Pictures, Marvel, or DC. All other characters are completely fictitious and any similarities with actual persons are purely coincidental.
 
Continued from Barbie's Doll.

---

 

Prologue

Daddy parks the car in a visitor’s spot and I look at the school with a feeling of impending doom.

My life has already changed forever—the Borg implants can like never be fully removed now. Like Seven-of-Nine, I will now always carry some of the implants, even if I try to dissimilate myself and go back to my old life.

A life that is getting ready to change even more over the next few hours—let alone the days, weeks, and months.

I sigh as I get out of the car, drawing on what residual energy I can from my peeps, and walk towards the front door…
 

---

 

 
Part One
I steel my resolve and take a deep breath. Momma takes my left arm and Daddy takes my right. Together, we walk up the steps to the front door of my looming prison.

Momma gives my arm a comforting squeeze as Daddy opens the door for us. She smiles at me and says, “It’ll be OK, Hon. I know this isn’t what you were expecting today to look like. I know this isn’t your ‘Plan A’. Sometimes we just have to punt in life and go with ‘Plan B’.”

I silently nod and scan the hallway for Klingons. The coast is clear—not a soul in sight. Klingon, Romulan, or other.

Together, we walk the hallway to the front office and Daddy leads us up to Ms. Sprout’s desk. He lightly knocks on the doorframe and she looks up and smiles, “Good morning, Alexanders!” She then looks straight at me and asks, “So, Jacie, is it now?”

I simply nod as I bite my lower lip. I’m still expecting a Klingon death squad at any moment—or worse.

What? The Borg can still die.

Anyway, Daddy says, “Good morning, Ginger. I think Penny is expecting us.”

I fight hard to keep my eyes in. Daddy’s on first-name basis with the powers-that-be in the school?

Ms. Sprout smiles and nods, “Yes, George. She’s expecting you. Just go on in.”

He says, “Thanks, Ginger.” And he leads us to the warden’s office, where I’ll be officially added to the prison rosters. A nameless Borg in a Klingon prison.

What? I have no idea if Klingon prisons can hold the Borg! That’s beside the point! I mean, like really!

Anyway, I still haven’t said a word and my ears perk up again when Momma says, “Yes, thank you, Ginger. You’re looking lovely, today, by the way.”

Ms. Sprout giggles and I pull back on Daddy’s arm as I attempt to turn around and chase my eyes that are quickly rolling down the hall—away from Ms. Blackthorn’s office. He continues to pull me tightly by my arm into the office, though, and I resign myself to just going in blind…

I guess my cursed Borg technology takes over and regenerates new eyes for me—ones that won’t fall out anymore—since I can very clearly see Ms. Blackthorn stand up and prissily shake Daddy’s hand, then give Momma an equally prissy hug.

I now know my new Borg eyes won’t easily fall out anymore, because they try—they really do…

She then looks at me and says, “Good morning, Ms. Alexander—Jacie, now, right? Not, … Chrissie?”

Again, I nod. My Borg technology hasn’t caught up enough to alleviate the parched cotton-mouth that I have.

What? No, it’s not cotton candy. Just plain old white cotton—baked dry and completely parched in the deserts of Tatooine…

What? No! Desert! Not dessert! Where is the fetish with cotton candy coming from? That’s last year’s fad!

Anyway, I nod and try and pull some moisture back into my mouth. I sort of croak in a cracked voice, “Yes, Ma’am. That was like sort of decided for me…”

She nods and replies, “Yes. Jacie, then. We’ll talk about that some more in a bit. For now, please have a seat and let’s talk. We need to plan how this will all unfold—and how we’ll ensure your safety.”

My eyes struggle hard, once again, to pop out—but are now seemingly stuck firmly in my head. I sweep my skirt and sit down on a chair between Momma and Daddy.

She continues, “Yes, we have zero tolerance on bullying and violence, as you’re well aware, and we have an all-inclusive transgender policy—albeit untested, since you’re our first—but I’m not naïve enough to think that alone will be enough to protect you from such evils.”

I sigh and nod. The bitter taste of blood floods my taste buds as I bite my inner lip a little too hard. Momma squeezes my hand and I ruefully run my tongue over the bloodied inside of my injured lip.

Ms. Blackthorn gives me a searching look and smiles, although somewhat awkwardly, “Look, Jacie, I know this wasn’t completely your choice—not even close. Your parents and I have talked quite a bit. The thing is, completely your choice—or not—it was, no, is your choice. You can still change your mind.”

I take a deep breath and feel a little moisture gather in my mouth. I think the Borg Queen is stoking my anger a bit, since my heart is beating harder—almost pounding— and I’m suddenly, well, pissed.”

What? Can the Borg get pissed? I guess so…

Anyway, I take a moment to calm my nerves and say, “You’re right, Ms. Blackthorn. It is my decision—one I had to like make under duress. My choice to even like make a choice was taken away from me. I had to choose. As for that choice, for better or worse, I’m going to like give this a try. I’ve talked to my shrin…, err, psychologists—and, yes, I’m like so screwed up, I need two—and we all agree that I need to like explore this. So, yes, I’m here as Jacie. And, yes, I’m like here to stay. At least, for now…”

She smiles. I mean she actually smiles, this time. She nods and replies, “Good for you, Hon. So, I’m not going to lie. This is going to be tough on you. Extremely tough under the best of circumstances. It’s also going to be at least as tough on us. You’re our first transgender student, believe it, or not. While there is a lot of media coverage on transgendered children, actual openly transitioning students are fairly rare. And, yes, I know you don’t consider yourself actually transgendered or in transition, but more in exploration. The thing is, for all intents and purposes, as far as we the school are concerned, you’re in transition. That is also what your doctors have attested to.”

She looks at us all sitting here and seems to think about something. She says, “It looks like we’re going to be here a bit. Forgive me for not asking sooner. Would you all like anything to drink? Jacie, you look like you could use something for that dry mouth?”

My eyes fight against their restraints again as I nod, “Ummm, Diet Pepsi, maybe—or, like some water?”

What? I thought I was covering my issues pretty well. She must have some Betazoid blood in her…

She nods and looks at Momma and Daddy, who both agree a cup of coffee would be great. Ms. Blackthorn goes out and talks to Ms. Sprout and then comes back in to retake her seat.

She says, “Coming right up! Now, where was I? Oh! Right… Difficulties… So, we need to officially consider you ‘in transition’ for the extra protections to kick in.” She takes a breath and continues, “As you already are aware, we have a comprehensive security camera presence in the school, but there are blind spots. They also don’t cover the restrooms—on purpose and for obvious reasons. You’ll be using the girl’s restroom, since you’re now officially attending as Jacie—a transgendered female; another ‘perk’ of your transitional status—so, you’ll really need to adopt the female habit of going in a group.”

I blush and awkwardly nod. I’m saved from responding by the clinking of a tray, though, as Ms. Sprout comes in with the drinks—a Diet for me and coffee for the three of them.

We all thank her and Ms. Blackthorn continues after taking a sip of the steaming, black coffee Ms. Sprout has poured her, “So, I’m aware that you have your ‘Circle’ that will be there to protect you. We’ve rearranged your schedule to make sure that you’re always in class with at least one of them. We’ve also rearranged seating, to have you sitting next to one. I do, however, expect that to be only for protection and not to giggle, gossip, or otherwise disturb the class. Am I understood?”

She gives me a pointed stare and I squirm in my seat, in spite of having done nothing wrong. I simply nod.

She shakes her head and retorts, “No, I need to hear you say you understand, Jacie.”

I sigh and take a sip of my Diet, then simply say in a low voice, “Yes, I understand, Ms. Blackthorn.”

She nods and takes another sip of coffee. I look out the sides of my eyes and see Momma and Daddy both just quietly sitting there, adding creamer and/or sugar and stirring their steaming coffee.

Ms. Blackthorn takes another sip of her coffee, obviously pensive, then continues, “Now, like I said I know you have your ‘Circle’ and we know that there is some level of support from other students, thanks to the social media feeds. We’ll come back to those in a minute.”

She takes another sip of steaming coffee, and continues, “At any rate, there is a level of support—and a ground-swell of opposition to the formerly popular jocks, as you call them. But, this is high school and, if one thing is utterly clear, it’s that popularity is a fickle thing and allegiances can and quickly do change. You can’t rely on your current status to maintain any sort of protections.”

Another sip, then she adds, “You’ll need to remain extremely vigilant and you’ll need to rely on tried and true friends to protect you. Obviously, the male members of your band should also fall into that category. You’ll need to walk a very fine line, though. I will not tolerate violence or bullying from either side. Am I clear on that?”

I nod and know she’s expecting a verbal acknowledgement, so I say, “Yes, Ma’am. But it’s like not fair when they can like fight the battle outside of school and it spills over. That’s the whole reason we’re like even here!”

What? I don’t know where that came from either. The Borg Queen still influencing my thoughts? She must be stoking me on.

Anyway, she smiles and says, “I told you we’d get to that. Now seems like the proper time to discuss it.”

Ms. Sprout comes in and refreshes the cups of coffee and Ms. Blackthorn continues, “So, the culprits that ‘outed’ you at the restaurant were engaging in bullying, plain and simple. You are correct that I don’t have any real leverage over what they do off-campus, but, I do have jurisdiction over what happens when using school resources. When they posted the videos to social media and those spilled over onto school feeds, they became culpable under school rules and regulations.”

She blows on her refreshed steaming coffee and grimaces as she takes a sip. She looks at me, her face completely serious, “Jacie, they will all face the consequences of their actions—at least in terms of what the school can do. I’ve also recommended that your parents seek further legal guidance on what to do outside of the school’s jurisdiction. That being said, taking action against them is a two-edged sword when it comes to you.”

My reinforced eyes actually make it outside their sockets, this time, but only for the briefest of moments. The Borg technology just immediately beams them back in.

I retort in an incredulous tone, “What? How? Like I didn’t do anything wrong!”

She nods, “No, Jacie, you didn’t. However, there will be a blame game. This is high school. It’s only slightly better than Kindergarten—although, still much better than Congress. Anyway, many that support the jocks, as you call them, are plain and simple homophobic bigots and will use the actions we take against them to their advantage. Again, we’ll keep a firm finger on the pulse of what’s going on—but, it will likely cost you some popularity points.”

I feel my eyes beam back in again after they make it all the way to Ms. Sprout’s desk from the explosion in my head.

What? The steam released from my head blew them that far! And, no, it wasn’t from pink cotton candy! What is it with you and that stuff?

I actually sputter, “Popularity points?!?” My frustration is clearly evident in my outburst. “Ms. Blackthorn, you seem to be like under the misconception that I give a damn about popularity!”

Daddy squeezes my arm tightly and Momma slaps my knee. She admonishes me, “Language, young lady! Apologize to Ms. Blackthorn, right this instant!”

I feel the blood rush to my face as I flush and I sigh, “I’m sorry, Ms. Blackthorn, but popularity is like the least of my worries. I wish I could just go back to like being invisible!”

She nods sagely, “Apology accepted, Jacie. The thing is, you aren’t invisible anymore. So, you do need to worry about your popularity status. That’s what will provide you with your best protection. If you’re in with the popular girls, then you’re behind a wall of protection stronger than even I can provide you. You’ve already benefited from that. The thing is, you’ve been protected by the pom-pom fortress up to now because the girls thought the jocks were picking on the poor, helpless friend of other popular girls. That solidified the support around you from all factions. This is a different issue, all-together. There are political issues here, both with a small and with a capital ‘P’—and that support may well splinter now.”

I sigh, “And that’s why this is all like so unfair!”

What? Of course, I’m whining! Wouldn’t you?!

Momma squeezes my knee and Daddy just harrumphs into his coffee.

---

 

 
An hour later, I’m sitting on the stage in the auditorium. I’m flanked by Cardassians, including my own parents who seem to have been taken over by them. Their knives are firmly embedded in my back. I look at the mix of Klingons, Romulans, and other scum gathering on the battlefield on the auditorium floor below us.

I can’t help but smile when my friends…

What? No not the scum! You know, P.S.T.K.!

Anyway, the band huddles in one section, front and center, and they wave up to me in a fully supportive gesture. I timidly wave back and curse the Borg Queen that won’t let me just transport out of here. It seems I’m a Borg soldier now—fighting a fight I didn’t sign up for.

Resistance is futile… And all that sh…

What? Language. Yeah… Right…

Anyway, the thing is, my Borg technology hasn’t adapted to this throng of enemies’ weapons.

I’m fully vulnerable to hits—even lethal ones. And there are several Klingons that have their disruptors pointed squarely at me. They’re a new type of weapon—set on ‘painful disintegration’. Nothing the Borg have had the chance to adapt to. So, I’m vulnerable.

What? I know I’ve said that! So, believe me, already!

Anyway, I sigh as Ms. Blackthorn, stands up and makes sure the knife she’s put in my back is still firmly seated, then she twists it hard as she goes to the microphone and speaks, “Quiet! Calm down! We’re here to set some things straight. We’re here to talk about Jacie Alexander’s role in this school.”

I groan as she twists the knife even further. I try to get up and run, but the Cardassians flanking me, a.k.a., my parents, twist their knives, as well, as they hold me in my seat.

Ms. Blackthorn continues, “Many of you know Jacie—formerly known as Jimmy. Many of you don’t—or didn’t before she gained infamy through social media. So, if not before, now you do. But, to be crystal clear, Ms. Alexander’s role here in school has not changed from that of Jimmy before—it’s that of any other student. Well, maybe it has changed a little, since Jacie’s is now that of any other female student. She will attend as a girl—with all rights, privileges, and responsibilities of that role. I know many of you don’t understand. Many of you may not agree with her choice. I don’t care. Ask her questions, if you have them. But know that I will not tolerate any sort of bullying.”

She looks around as there is a buzzing of voices—coming more loudly from the festering cesspool of garbage compactor scum, a.k.a., the jocks.

She continues, “In case there are some of you that aren’t from this planet and haven’t been paying attention to the social media feeds—or the school news—let me play you an example of what I will not tolerate.”

She digs the knife in deeper, this time with a brutal twist—nicking my spleen and causing massive internal bleeding—as she nods and the screen above and behind me springs to life with the video of my ‘outing’ at the Goddess.

I simply want to die. I would welcome those painful disruptors disintegrating me, right now. The pain of that evening comes rushing back and I start to see black as the blood rushes out the mortal injury she has inflicted on me with her knife.

The video comes to an end and Ms. Blackthorn calls me to the microphone before the transporter can fully beam me into deep, dark space without a suit—where I can die in peace.

I stumble, literally, to the microphone and blush at the snickering coming from the cesspool.

Ms. Blackthorn takes my hand and says into the microphone, “Let’s be clear. This is cruel and unusual punishment. Not only through the fact that this video exists—or the situation portrayed in the video, for that matter—but, also through the fact that Jacie here has to relive the evidence, again. And relive it in front of all of you.”

She delivers a pregnant pause, then looks straight at me and inquires, “But, I have to ask you, Jacie, can you identify the individuals that were a party to this?”

What? Where did this come from? Like, huh?

I feel the black curtain start to descend as I begin to beam out into space, but then hear a harsh whisper from behind me as Momma hisses, “Jacie! Focus!”

I take a deep breath and say in a barely audible whisper as the curtain recedes, “Yes, Ma’am. Greg Chapman like was the one that convinced Mr. Apollo to let him speak at the Goddess. Mr. Apollo like had no idea what Greg was up to, though. Brad Fleming and Chad Little were the others there that night and like the ones that made the video. I don’t like know who posted it, though.”

Ms. Blackthorn nods and says, “Thank you, Jacie. Now, since the video made its way to the school news site, thanks to the excellent exposé of bullying by our intrepid school reporter, Louise Lane, this has officially become evidence in a case of school bullying. Along with this video, that includes any commentary made on our site—or any that is cross-linked to other feeds from it. We are currently combing through those. Any remarks that can be considered as bullying will result in the appropriate consequences.”

There’s a stunned silence in the auditorium. I’m silenced, along with the scum on the floor. Actually, I think I’m on the floor.

What? No! Not on the floor with the scum—on the floor of the stage! Pay attention, will you?

Anyway, I’m further floored when she continues, “Did I make myself clear, earlier, that we will tolerate no bullying? Mister Chapman, we will talk later, but consider yourself expelled from this school—effective immediately.”

The silence becomes deafening.

She pounds on, “Mister Fleming—it was your account that posted the video. You will join Mister Chapman in his expulsion. Mister Little, you were clearly complicit in this whole ordeal, but there is no clear evidence that you actively engaged in the bullying, so you will begin an immediate four-week suspension, since there is also no evidence that you actively opposed it. That makes you at the very least an accessory to the crime.”

The silence becomes even more deafening. I feel light-headed. I’m floating in space… I’m just not sure if I have a space-suit on. I look down at Jillie and feel the secure and very comforting tug of her tether as she smiles at me.

Ms. Blackthorn continues to pound, “Mr. Thorn and Ms. Sage, you will join Mr. Little in a suspension—effective immediately, you’re both on a three-week one for inflammatory, derogatory, and bullying remarks we have identified. I’m sure there will be more to come.”

The silence begins to break as people begin to realize that this is bigger than just the cesspool. It’s expanding to the pond-scum. No one is safe, including the Harry Mudds of the school…

Ms. Blackthorn lobs the last anti-matter grenade, “Like I said, we continue to look through the posts for other infractions. I can only advise those that have stepped on Ms. Alexander here to seek immediate legal advice, since I have advised her parents to do the same—to seek prosecution of those individuals for their involvement in hate crimes. And we have made permanent copies of all feeds, so any attempt to delete any posts will be a futile effort.”

The buzzing becomes very loud.

She continues to spray them with anti-matter bombs, “Now, I would like the named individuals to come to the front office to receive official notification of their sentences. I expect everyone else to quietly return to class—including our newest student, Jacie Alexander. Please welcome her to our fold!”

She loudly claps and there is a very mixed reaction from the stunned ‘floor’. Many clap and cheer—just as many seem very…worried. Oh, and openly hostile.

The Dominion is alive and well.

This solitary Borg soldier is certainly in trouble.

Then, the Circle rushes up and hugs me. And the guys from the band circle the Circle and glare at anyone that gives me an odd look.

Momma hugs me and Daddy…does, too.

I try and fix my jaw—it breaks when my lower one hits the floor when he hugs me.

Fortunately, I’m Borg…

What? No! I’m not proud of that! But, it can come in handy when you like suddenly need new body parts…

---

 

 
I sit at the Circle’s table at lunch. Well, I guess, technically, it’s more of a ‘P.S.T.K.’ table, now…

Our lunch period started directly after the impromptu assembly.

What? Of course, I’m still in total shock! What did you think?

Jillie is unabashedly holding my hand—almost sitting in my lap. Barbs is right next to me and glaring at anyone looking our way. Kate, Sara, and Mitsi are the second line of defense—backing up Barbie’s glares.

Then, there’s Chris, Fred, and Sam. While not in the league of the girls with their ‘phasers’ and their ‘kill’ setting, they’re doing admirably well at fending off any male offenses.

I almost can eat.

I just like stare at the salad in front of me, though.

Jillie says, “OK, Hon! You need to like eat something! Do you want me to go get you like something else?”

I sigh and take a nibble of salad, just to get her off my case. I over-chew it, though, and almost gag as I try to swallow it.

I wanly smile at Jillie as I force the macerated nibble down. Once I feel it hit the pool of boiling acid in my stomach, I choke out, “I like appreciate the support, guys, but I feel like I’m the main exhibit on Talos IV…”

I notice the blank stares from everyone.

What? I know! Star Trek novices!

I sigh, “‘The Cage’? Like really? No one?”

More blank stares…

I sigh more deeply, “No matter. Like everyone is staring—or glaring—at me. I’m like…well, a Borg…”

Jillie leans over and kisses me.

What? No, not just a quick smack. A real kiss.

What? My foot? Yeah, it does its best to pop under the table…

I blush even deeper.

Now everyone is staring at me—at us…

What? Yeah, I feel better.

Err…I think…

I sigh as I wonder if my lipstick is messed up. I check out Jillie’s and see hers isn’t—so, mine shouldn’t be.

Like right?

I sigh again and say, “OK, guys. So, I feel like the goat—or was it a sheep—staked out for the T-Rex in Jurassic Park, but that’s not going to change anytime soon… So, I guess we like need to go to class, huh? I mean, do we really? Who wants to like just get out of here…? We could skip class.”

Barbs just nods at going to class and Jillie gives me another breath-taking, foot-popping kiss.

So much for just ‘getting out of here’.

I put my less-than-half-finished salad on the conveyor belt to who-knows-where—the trash compactor where the jocks live, I guess—and we all move towards our next class.

As luck would have it, it’s English—and I have it with Jillie. Oh, yeah, I now sit next to her…

What? Yeah, I remember what Ms. Blackthorn said.

What’s your point?

Anyway, English is strange.

What? No, not the language! The class! Keep up, will you?

Anyway, Jillie and I go in. Well, the other Circle girls also have the same class. We like always have—even when I was here as Jimmy. Now, I’m wearing a skirt and going by Jacie, though. Well, and sitting between Jillie and Barbs. Kate is directly in front of me and Sara in front of Jillie, sitting to the right of me. Mitsi sits directly behind Barbs, to the left of me.

What? Jimmy? He used to sit on the other side of the room… By himself.

Anyway, I’m surrounded by my best friends—and have never felt more vulnerable in my life.

I sweep my skirt and sit down in my seat as Mrs. Hawkins comes in. She looks at me and smiles. I’m not sure if it’s genuine, or not.

She doesn’t publicly acknowledge me—or make a big deal of me being here. At least there’s that.

I get enough stares and glares from the others in class. No one had said anything like out of the ordinary coming in—I’m not so lucky going out, though.

Haley Simpson…

What? Yeah, she’s like Jenn Simpson’s sister.

What? Jenn Simpson? You remember her—the senior hot girl that we went to the mall with? You know, Jennifer!

Anyway, her sister, Haley is a wanna-be hottie—and sorely lacking her sister’s class. Jenn is popular for all the right reasons. Haley is not, because she’s her sister’s antithesis and she exudes all the wrong reasons.

She corners me on the way out of the classroom and says with a sour face, “Well, well, well, Jimmy. You certainly look…disgusting. I certainly hope you’re like happy getting our best athletes expelled or suspended. Now, we’re just a loser school, with a loser hot-girl-wanna-be. And she’s not even a girl.”

Mitsi just looks down her nose and says, “Well, it’s certainly good to know that you’re not a girl, Haley. We’ve always known you’re a wanna-be, just not that you’re a wanna-be girl. I’ll be sure to let your sister know. I don’t think she’s aware.”

Haley just spews poisonous steam from her head and stalks off in a huff.

The Circle—sans me—does a high-five and giggles.

I just deflate and dejectedly follow them to our next class, which is trigonometry. Well, Jillie, Barbs, Sara, and my next class. Kate’s taking geometry and Mitsi’s in pre-calculus, so we split up and go our separate ways, with me sandwiched between Jillie and Barbs. Sara’s leading the way and clearing a path for us.

This is certainly a barrel full of monkeys.

What? Oh, one of Momma’s sayings… It means ‘loads of fun’, or something like that…

Anyway, I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this. Now, girls are starting to go against me, too—at least some of them.

We run into Jenn Simpson right before going into the classroom. She comes over and gives me a hug and says, “Hang in there, Hon. You still have a lot of support—don’t let them get to you.”

I sigh, “Can you tell that to your sister?”

She gives me a questioning look and Jillie explains what had just happened. Jenn gets the same sour look on her face as her younger sister had just exhibited—only hers is in honor of her sister and not me.

She shakes her head and laments, “She just won’t learn. I’ll talk to Momma about her—again—she’ll straighten her out. Not that it’ll stick with Daddy…”

She lets the sentence drop and hugs me again. She gives me a final squeeze, then hurries off to her class.

I sigh and follow Sara into the classroom and find my new seat—between Sara and Jillie, this time. Barbs is in front of us.

Ms. Zweistein comes in and starts the class as if nothing is out of the ordinary. When she calls on me to answer a problem, she just says, “Jacie, please give us the answer to 2b.”

I blush and provide the correct answer and life goes on.

What? No, it’s not ‘To be, or not to be’! Grow up, will you?

Anyway, Haley’s giving me the evil eye. And she seems to be gathering a small following, if the crowd around her after class is any indication.

Just great!

What? No! Not really! Are you crazy?

Anyway, I’m drained by the time I sit down on the bus. I almost forget to sweep my skirt and keep my knees together. Not that Jillie would ever let that happen!

What? Of course, Jillie doesn’t let that happen! What did you think?

Anyway, other than the one event with Haley, everyone else pretty much leaves me alone. Thankfully, she’s not on our bus. But there are some of her seeming new disciples that are—and they’re giving me semi-dirty looks.

I sigh and look at Jillie, “I have a bad feeling about this. Haley’s gaining traction with more and more girls, I think. Sure, they’re mostly freshmen, but, still…”

Jillie just kisses me and Mitsi says, “Don’t worry, Hon. She actually crossed a line today, when she said you aren’t a girl. In terms of your transgender status at school—you legally are. She was just lucky that there wasn’t anyone around to hear it. I texted Ms. Blackthorn, anyway, just so she can check the video feeds.”

I sigh after un-popping my foot from under the seat.

What? Yeah, it’s hard to do sitting in the bus.

Anyway, I un-pop my foot and sigh, “Yeah. Well, I hate to get any more people in trouble.”

Kate says, “Stop right there, Hon! You’re not getting anyone in trouble—they’re like doing that on their own!”

Barbs just nods—emphatically. Sara, who now also rides home with us to join our sessions obviously agrees with the others.

I sigh again—and Jillie gives me another kiss.

The bus comes to a standstill at our stop and we all get off. Study group is at our house, today and Momma is home, having taken the whole day off for our meeting with Ms. Blackthorn.

I know she and Daddy were also going to meet with our family lawyer right after the school meeting. I didn’t even know we had one!

She puts out freshly baked cookies and I grab drinks for everyone, then we get down to business, including catching up on the classes that I missed this morning.

An hour-and-a-half later, my nerves are a little better and I’m caught up. Momma says, “OK, girls. What kind of pizzas shall we order? Rita will be here in two hours to pick up Mitsi, Kate, and Sara, so there’s plenty of time.”

We quickly agree on two large pizzas and side salads and Momma orders them to be delivered. Then she sits down and says, “Well, girls, there’s no reason you can’t all hear this. Jacie’s Daddy and I met with our lawyer, today. She also conferenced in the school’s lawyer.

The three jocks won’t get out of their school-imposed sentences. In addition, we are seeking injunctions against them. We’re not seeking financial damages, except from the Chapmans. The financial damages really only punish the parents and the Flemings and the Littles seem like good parents, whose kids just got messed up with the wrong crowd. The Chapmans are trouble, though—sorry, Jill, but I think you may agree?”

She smiles ruefully and nods, “Yes, Ma’am. I certainly found out their true colors when I broke up with Greg. He certainly hasn’t like strayed far from the trash compactor, as Jacie would say. His Daddy’s a real piece of garbage and I think his Momma’s the spawn of that monster that breed’s in it.” She giggles ruefully, “It’s strange that I never realized it when I was going with him, though. It doesn’t surprise me that he like colored Brad and Chad the wrong way.”

Momma nods—as does Mitsi, Sara, and Kate.

The doorbell rings a few minutes later and Momma goes to pay for the delivery. She returns while I’m passing out new drinks. We all take a piece of pizza and nibble on it.

Mitsi swallows her nibble with a thoughtful expression and inquires, “Cindy, do you think the band could like seek damages, as well? I mean, what he did like had the potential to hurt us, too.”

Momma looks pensive for several chews of her nibble and then she swallows and takes a sip of her drink. Then she says, “That’s a very interesting thought, Mitsi. I don’t have the answer, but we can certainly look into that. The band should have legal representation on retainer, anyway. Since Jacie’s Daddy is your interim manager, he can look into that for you.”

Mitsi nods and says, “Thank you, Cindy. I’m not sure why we would like ever want to replace George as our manager, though.”

She smiles and says, “Well, you want someone who understands the music scene better than he does. He’s a great salesman—and could sell freezers on Hoth, but, he doesn’t know the ins-and-outs of the music business. You need someone that knows what works best for you in that industry.”

Kate says, “That may be, Cindy, but we like trust George to look out for us—not himself.”

She smiles and gives her a hug, “I know, Hon. We’ll figure something out. But, tell me, how did the afternoon go?”

I sigh—she just had to go there. My stomach was just settling down. Now my pizza looks like Gagh, again.

Sara says, “It seemed to be going pretty well until Haley Simpson like did a drive-by attack.”

Momma looks stunned, “Margaret Simpson’s youngest? Don’t you girls get along with her older girl, Jennifer?”

Kate nods, “Yes, Ma’am. We get along great—and so does Jacie. Both the pre-and post-outed version. Haley’s a horse of a different color. Although, like she’s more of a cow than a horse!”

Everyone giggles—even me.

What? It’s like funny!

Anyway, Momma inquires, “So, what did little Haley do to deserve this sentiment?

Mitsi outlines her attack and Momma shakes her head and asks, “Did you girls report this to Ms. Blackthorn?”

Mitsi nods and says, “Jacie like was upset when she found out, but Haley is the perpetrator here. There’s like nothing for Jacie to feel sorry for her about.”

Momma looks at me and asks, “Is that true, Jacie?”

I sigh, “Yes, Momma. I mean, like the jocks got expelled or suspended because of me. I don’t care about Greg, but…”

Momma shakes her head, “You can’t think that way, Jacie. They’re the masters of their own destinies. You did nothing to make them act the way they did. It was their choice. They’re the ones that forced your hand. Do you really feel sorry for them?”

I sigh, “It’s not that I feel sorry for them, Momma. I don’t. But, like I’m getting blamed for their plight—not them. It like sucks!”

Momma exclaims, “Language, young lady!”

I blush but remain otherwise unrepentant.

What? It like does suck!

Momma sighs, “Look, I understand, Hon, but stooping to their level doesn’t help. So, what can I do? I know Marge, I can give her a call…”

Kate muses, “I wouldn’t do that just yet, Cindy. We told Jenn and she’s going to talk to her Momma. Ms. Blackthorn will also check the video feeds to see what was captured.”

Momma nods as Barbs says, “The bigger problem’s that Haley seems to be like gathering a following. She’s long been a wanna-be popular girl, or so I’m told since I’m like still the newbie here. Anyway, if this can’t be like nipped in the bud, there may like be bigger issues headed our way.”

Momma nods and says, “Excuse me girls, I need to give Penny Blackthorn a call.” She looks at me crossly and admonishes me, “Language!”

I cringe as her phasers hit me squarely in the chest. Luckily, they’re only set to ‘stun’. But, my bra is no shield and I feel the strong sting.

I nod, “OK, Momma. OK. Go! Before you break out the photon torpedoes!”

She giggles, in spite of herself, and goes into the living room with her cell phone.

The other girls…

What? For now, they are other girls!

Anyway, the other girls shrug as she leaves. They all agree that my language was like nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, it’s not like I said the F-word, or like anything…

We finish our salads and pizza and I put the rest in the refrigerator, just as Momma comes back in. She says, “Well, Penny wasn’t able to catch the conversation on the video feed. If push comes to shove, she could probably have an expert read her lips. But, she will be monitoring the situation extra-closely. I need you girls to be extra vigilante, too.”

Everyone but me says, “Yes, Cindy! We will!”

I just sigh. My shields are down to maybe ten percent and theirs are like going to quickly wear down, too. I’m not sure how we’re going to survive this new enemy coalition of the Klingons and Romulans.

I may be assimilated, but like I said, I haven’t adapted to the new technologies, yet. I’m clearly vulnerable. I could even still die…

What? I’m repeating myself? You know what, I don’t give a d…

Language? Go! Like leave me alone!

---

 

 
I hug Jillie. Rita had come and picked up the rest of the Circle and the two of us are alone in my room. Momma is on the phone with Daddy, who like had to leave on a business trip right after the meeting with the lawyer.

Her warm embrace in return is comforting—my safety tether. I feel like I’m going to get pulled back into deep space without a suit, again. Her lifeline is all that is keeping me sane.

Well, that and the kiss she gives me.

My foot pops and I feel my breath being sucked out of me.

I check; the tether is intact. My foot pops as I check.

I sigh in contentment as she breaks the kiss with her signature ‘smack’ and my foot eventually settles back to the floor. Of course, the simple fact that I can sigh, means that I can breathe.

What? Of course, it could be some Borg technology.

Anyway, I make sure the door is closed and we settle on the bed in a close embrace…

What? No! No more details…

We straighten our clothes and freshen up—well more like redo—our makeup an hour later and go back downstairs.

What? No! I told you no details!

Anyway, Momma is sitting on the couch, watching TV. She smiles knowingly at us and asks, “Feel better?”

I blush.

What? Yeah, so does Jillie.

Anyway, I nod and say, “I don’t know, Momma. Maybe I like made the wrong choice?”

She comes over and gives me a hug, “Give it a chance, Love. It’s still early in the game—and you knew it would be tough going.”

I sigh, “Yeah, but knowing and experiencing are two different things—even if they are closely related. Sort of like Vulcans and Romulans.”

She smiles, “Well, yes, and like I said, it’s not over yet, Hon. It’s likely to get worse before it gets better—but, you have the strongest shields in the Federation.”

I sigh again and say half-heartedly, “Yeah! Damn the photon torpedoes, and all, right?”

She just smiles and hugs me.

I can only frown.

What? I still don’t know whether I’m like doing the right thing, here.

Anyway, Jillie gives me a two-foot-popping kiss and breaks it with her signature ‘smack’. I greedily suck in air, now that the hatch is closed, since she has left me completely breathless with her simulation of deep space when kissing me.

Once, my face is back to a normal color…

What? It was blue from lack of oxygen!

Anyway, once it pinks up again…

What? Pink Tribbles? No… Where did that come from? They’re all gone!

Anyway…

What? Cotton candy? No! Go away!

Anyway, she rinses and repeats. And again…and again… Just like the ‘Energizer-Bunny’. Now, I even feel the stirrings of pink Tribbles, somewhere deep down inside me.

What? Maybe they’re not extinct, after-all!

Anyway, Momma finally just harrumphs and we all giggle. Jillie leaves to walk across the yards to her house—after bundling up, since it’s still Hoth-like outside.

I feel all warm and gooey inside, though—in spite of the blast of cold that hits me as I watch her walk home.

Then the cold sinks in as I think about tomorrow—and another full day of school.

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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Jacie went to extreme lengths to help a pretty girl struggling with her past. The result was an unexpected twist of fate.

---

 

Battle of the Bangs

Copyright © 2018 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
All image originals sourced from Creative Commons.
All movie-related references made in this novel are trademarked by Paramount Pictures, Disney, Universal Pictures, or Marvel. All other characters are completely fictitious and any similarities with actual persons are purely coincidental.

---

Author’s Note: I’m extremely grateful for the comments and support I received on part one. Overall, the story doesn’t seem to be as well received as the first book, though. I’ll keep a thumb on the pulse of responses (comments and kudos) moving forward and will gauge whether continuing the story is something that seems to be desired, or not.

Thanks for everyone’s support!

HUGS!
Shauna

---

 

 
Part Two
I wish I could like say that the next days—or couple of weeks—got better for me.

What mainly happens is that there is a stark polarization at school. I’m reminded of the U.S. Congress—two factions that are pulling further and further apart. Soon, they will be so far apart that there will be no overlap at all.

What? Moderates? They’re becoming as rare as pink Tribbles!

Anyway, Haley and Co. have gathered steam. Her faction consists mainly of religious and other zealots, homophobes, and the occasional actual jock supporter.

What? Huh? Pun? No, I don’t…

Oh! I get it! Giggle…

Anyway, a couple of things are pretty clear, by now. First, Haley is getting support—a lot of it—from an outside source. She’s too good at walking a very tight line…

What? Tighter than my eyeliner. What’s your point?

What? Yes, I use a fine-pointed liner. I don’t…

Oh! Go away!

Anyway, she’s walking a line that’s extremely annoying, but stays just on the right side of the rules—and what she’s doing can’t be considered bullying. At least not in an actionable sense.

Personally, I think a good Dominion invasion would serve her right.

Anyway, my suspicion…

What? No, it’s not just mine.

Anyway, the suspicion is that Greg’s parents are helping her out—just to stir up trouble.

What? No, we’re still working on the legal issues between our lawyers. That’ll still take a good while to get settled, though.

Anyway, the second thing that Haley’s actions are causing is a split in her own family. Jenn and her Momma are completely aghast at her actions and ‘beliefs’. Her Daddy is squarely on her side, though, and only helps to keep her stirred up.

So, there’s her growing ‘opposition’ party here at school—one that is becoming increasingly radicalized.

Then there’s the currently still larger faction that is on ‘my’ side.

What? No! I want nothing more than to be left alone.

Borg soldier, remember?

Anyway, ‘my’ side is the one of reason.

What? Of course, we’re the reasonable ones! We’re right, after-all.

Anyway, the group I identify with…

What? OK, then…

The group that crystalizes around me is the one that has issues with a-hole jocks and no issue with TG girls.

What? Language? Yeah. Bite me!

Blame the Borg Queen…

Anyway, in the beginning ‘my’ group is the larger of the two, with a majority of the school sort of neutral. They have an issue with ‘a-hole’ jocks, but not necessarily with all jocks. Most have a laisse-fair attitude towards TG girls, as they view me.

Over these last couple of weeks, though, like I said, things are becoming increasingly polarized. People are picking sides more and more—there is less and less neutral ground.

People gravitating towards ‘my’ side, for the most part, aren’t radical and we are still the larger faction. People on the other side tend to be mostly freshmen and sophomores, although there are a few juniors and seniors. And, like I said, they tend to be idiots.

What? My opinion?! Sure. My life, too! So, what’s your point?

The only relief I get from it all are our after-school study sessions, my personal ‘sessions’ with Jillie, and practicing/singing with the band.

What? The band?

Oh, right. You’re behind… Sigh. I do so wish you would keep up…

---

 

 

What do I say about the band?

Well, overall, we’re doing great. We practice two-to-three times a week after our study sessions, then several hours both days on the weekend. We play Saturday and Sunday nights at ‘The Greek Goddess’—under contract—and we’re still a huge hit there.

What? How did the ‘outing’ affect things?

Oh! Daddy did secure us a lawyer, and we’re exploring our options. Since it doesn’t seem to have caused us much—if any—harm, though, she isn’t sure we have much standing to sue.

Anyway, Daddy is still our interim manager and we’re making good money. Really good money for a high school band that only plays on the weekends. No, we won’t get rich, by any means, but good money is going into my college fund.

Oh, another thing! We made a slight change to our name. Writing ‘P.S.T.K.’ was just getting old. We now are officially known—and are legally registered—as ‘PS2K’.

Word is starting to get out about us, though—and Daddy is trying hard to find a better manager for us. There are just too many Ferengi and Cardassians to be careful of. The ones just out for the money and the others just wanting to stab you in the back.

What? Me?

Yeah. I’m still the ABBA queen—the band jokingly calls me the ‘Disco Doll’, rather than Barbie’s Doll, now.

And when Johnny B. hears us talk about the shi…

What? Language? Go…

Err… Well, anyway, when he hears us talk about the other kind at school, he just shakes his head. Especially, since in the grand scheme of things, it seems to be me against Haley.

What? Borg soldier. Remember?

Anyway, he just chuckles and calls it the ‘Battle of the Bangs’. It’s his inside joke from when I had to fight so hard with my bangs when I first got them—only now applied to this new situation.

What? Yeah. My bangs are epic, now! Much better than Haley’s!!!

What? No, they’re still basically the same as before. Just longer. And I’ve gotten used to them…

Anyway, I don’t think he’s funny, at all.

So, now you’re caught up.

---

 

 

So, to continue with the story…

I sit at my vanity and finish my makeup as I reflect on the last two weeks. I look at my work in the mirror and smile. I look hot. Not that I would have been overly happy with that just a few weeks ago.

What? No, it’s still strange—but I’m getting more used to the idea that I can look hot. Well, and that I can create that look.

I turn my head back and forth in the mirror and closely inspect my work, looking for any flaws. I know that if I have any in the bright ‘evening’ look that I’ve spent the last thirty minutes on, that Jillie will call me on it. If not her, then Kate, for sure.

What? The look?

Well, like it’s colorful, glittery and overstated—both because it’s stage makeup and it’s like supposed to be a sort of retro-but-modern-disco look. The one thing that I’m still not used to are the really long fake eyelashes. I feel like I could knock any attacking Klingons over with the things—simply by batting my eyes and creating a blast of wind.

Anyway, I pick up the dangly little disco balls and put them into the front holes in my ears and wince a little as I do.

What? No, the holes aren’t completely healed yet, so they’re still really tender.

Anyway, I stand up and look at myself in the mirror.

I still can’t believe it’s me looking back from the mirror.

What? What do I have on?

Well, it’s an ultra-short, sleeveless, pink dress. The skirt is pleated and comes just below my panty line. I’ll have to be very careful about flashing the pink, ruffled panties I have on.

What? Of course, I’m carefully tucked—and using a new contraption called a ‘gaff’ to keep me that way. Jillie found how to make it online—it’s made out of old pantyhose. I’ve gotten used to being tucked by now—just not to the gaff ‘flossing’ my butt.

What? The girls tell me I’ll get used to it after a couple more weeks. They all wear thong panties and swear by them.

Anyway, the ‘flossing’ certainly gives my butt more wiggle when I walk—it also makes me squirm when I sit. That’s something that Momma and all the girls get onto me about all the time. At least it’s getting better as I get more and more used to it…

So… Where were we?

Oh! Right! How I’m dressed. The sleeveless, strapless dress also has a pretty deep plunge in the front—you know, to show cleavage.

What? Me? Of course, I don’t like have cleavage. Give me a minute to explain, will you? We’d like make a lot more progress on this story if you’d like stop interrupting!

Anyway, Jillie also talked Momma into getting me these glue-on ‘breast forms’. Momma relented a week ago and ordered them at a store in the mall. After we went there this morning, and I was ‘fitted’…

What? That means they took this like really stinky, gooey glue and spread it on my chest…

What? No! I still don’t have hair on it. Are you going to keep interrupting me?

Anyway, the girl spread this glue-stuff on my chest and then on these huge silicone mounds with like fake nipples on them. After the stuff on my chest and on the mounds was dry, she carefully put the cold, heavy things on my chest and pressed down on them for a minute, or so.

When she stopped pressing down, there was still this noticeable weight on my chest—it was even more noticeable when I sat up.

What? Yeah—we had to take a trip to VS after that to like get me new bras.

What? B-Cups. Why?

What? No, I don’t like want D-cups! Are you frickin’ crazy!

What? Language? Bite me!

Anyway, the edges of the forms are like really thin and the girl put a little makeup on them. They’re like as invisible as I used to be!

What? Yeah…just more Borg parts…

Anyway, the point to that whole story is to say that I now have ‘cleavage’ to show off in the dress.

What? My shoes?

Five-inch, open-toed, pink suede stilettos.

What? Yeah, the weight of the breast forms like really messes with my balance in them.

The other girls just laugh when I like say anything, though.

Anyway, now that you’ve taken me down this side path through Vanity Fair, I really need to get downstairs—the van will be here any minute to pick me up for practice.

I spray a mist of perfume into the air and walk through it on my way out of my room.

I look at the stairs—the pink river down them is now long-gone and I’m like sort of bummed about that. I miss the Tribbles from those days.

The life of the Borg is pretty cold. If not for the life-force that Jillie and the gang give me, I would have to really think about ways to end this dreary existence.

What? No! I’m not talking about suicide, but…

Borg soldier. Remember?

---

 

 

I gingerly step out of the van. Fred is being a real gentleman and helping all of us girls get out.

What? Yeah, I said all of us girls. What’s your point?

Anyway, it’s a little icy and five-inch stilettos may sound helpful…

What? Like the heel could be a good icepick…

They’re not! Did you see them wear them on Hoth? I mean, really?

Anyway, we all safely get inside, walking very gingerly, and I’m like a popsicle when we finally make it to the bar room.

What? Yeah a pink popsicle. What’s your point? What flavor? Strawberry, maybe? I don’t know. Like a give a d…

Language? I’ll show you language!

Anyway, us girls go up to the bar and Apollo smiles at us and hands us each a big cup of steaming hot chocolate.

We thank him with a hug and go to the stage where the guys are finishing setting up.

What? Aren’t there any crowds? No, the restaurant is closed between two and five on weekends to gear up for the evening crowd. That’s when and where we practice on the weekends.

Kate, Sara, Mitsi, and Barbs take extra cups of hot chocolate with them to their guys. Jillie and I just hold hands.

What? Well, we may stop for a quick, hot-chocolate-flavored, foot popping kiss, too.

Anyway, we all congregate on the stage and finish our soul-warming drinks after everything is set up, then we start our practice session.

I wonder if the other Borg know about hot chocolate? I mean the Queen must be monitoring my thoughts, right?

Anyway, against my wishes and loud protests, Barbs and I are now pretty evenly splitting time as the lead singer. I still don’t think that my voice is that great, but the others seem to disagree with me on that point.

What? Learn an instrument? Me? Are you crazy?

Well, I mean the guys have talked me into learning to ‘play’ the tambourine—just to keep up the ABBA image…

Anyway, we go through our set of songs and Apollo…

What? Oh, yeah, calling adults by their first name has become an epidemic of global proportions…

What? Yes, I know that’s a pandemic…

Anyway, Apollo has also insisted we call him by his first name—without any ‘Misters’ attached to it. Mamma doesn’t like even publicly blink anymore when I call adults by their first name—I know it still bothers her, though.

What? Yeah, me too—a little. Although, it like is kind of cool, though!

Anyway, Apollo comes up after our practice set and says, “Great job! You’re getting better and better together. Look, I would like to do an all-disco evening in three weeks. Do you think you could expand your disco-themed repertoire to include more than just ABBA? I know it’s fairly short notice, but…” He lets the sentence drop with a shrug and an imploring look.

Chris shrugs back and looks around at all of us. We just like shrug, too—and nod. Chris looks back at Apollo and says, “We’ll give it our best shot. Any special requests?”

Apollo just smiles and hands him a sheet of paper with a list of songs on it. He says, “It’s no big deal if you can’t do them all; just as many as you can. If push comes to shove, we can supplement the playlist with CDs of the actual artists, but I’d like as much live music as possible.”

Chris takes the list and scans it. He nods, thoughtfully, and says, I think we can cover most, if not all, of these. The problem is getting the sheet music…”

Apollo grins and walks over to a table with a stack of paperback books on it. As it turns out, it’s all sheet music of disco songs. He looks up at us and says, “What can I say? I came prepared.”

The guys laugh and us girls giggle and we all like hurry down to leaf through the songs.

As we’re looking through them, Jeff inquires, “So, Apollo, is there any special occasion? What’s the deal?”

He grins, “Well, my niece is coming to the States to visit me and is huge fan of yours and wants to meet you—especially you, Jacie…”

All of our heads snap up and Chris asks, “How…?”

Apollo laughs, “Well, I may have video-conferenced with her a time or two while you were playing. Anyway, she’s coming over in two weeks and she just loves disco. So, I just thought we should make a bigger deal out of it.”

He winks and continues, “I also have it on good authority that we have a big birthday coming up—a sweet sixteen?”

Mitsi blushes and the rest of us girls giggle.

He says, “Of course, I can’t have you playing for your own party—but there will be a party. That I can promise you! And it will be a good Greek party! I’m sure Aphrodite would love to help me plan it.”

Mitsi blushes even more and all I can think about is that old movie, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” . I giggle and think about Windex and zits…

Mitsi goes over and gives him a hug and says, “Oh, you don’t like have to do that, Apollo, but thank you for the thought!”

He just gives her a quick squeeze and says, “Of course I do. Aphrodite loves to plan parties and I love to have them—especially for family.” He grins, “And, in case you didn’t know—you’re all family, now!”

We all laugh…

What? Well, yeah, us girls actually giggle—what’s your point?

Anyway, Chris clears his throat and says, “OK, guys! Come on! We need to do another practice set before the crowds start arriving.”

---

 

 

An hour later, the doors open for the evening crowd and people start filtering into the restaurant. The early crowd is mostly a cocktail one and we start our first set with more contemporary songs—which puts Barbs more front-and-center.

What? I already told you I’m fine with that!

Anyway, around seven, we transition to more ABBA—and even sprinkle in some of the songs from Apollo’s playlist for the disco party that we had been able to practice before the restaurant opened.

What? Oh, you know, songs like, ‘Night Fever’, ‘I will Survive’, and ‘Boogie Wonderland’.

What? Yeah, I am lead singer on those.

What? I already told you I don’t think my voice is that great!

What? Well, yeah, the crowd loved it. What’s your point?

---

 

 

Six hours later, the guys pack up the instruments and us girls sit down at the bar and watch.

The guys come sit down with us just as the last of the patrons filter out the front door.

Apollo comes over and gives each of us girls a hug and shakes each guy’s hand. He says, “Awesome night, guys! There should be a hefty bonus based on tonight’s revenue. Now, what can I get you to eat before Arastoo cleans up the kitchen?”

What? Arastoo? Oh, he’s Apollo’s chef…

Anyway, we all let him know what we would like and he hurries off to let Arastoo know.

While he’s gone, we leaf through the sheet music some more and pick out our final selections to practice.

By the time we’re done eating, though, it’s nearly one in the morning and we’re all yawning.

Jeff, who got a late start in school because of age cut-offs, is our driver, since he’s actually eighteen and stands the least chance of causing an issue if the police stop us for any reason.

What? No, of course, they don’t. But you never know, right? I mean the van is in about as good a shape as the Millennium Falcon… Getting pulled over for a flickering taillight is not out of the question.

Anyway, I wearily climb in bed at nearly two and quickly fall into a deep slumber.

I don’t even remember dreaming about Jillie and the hordes of pink Tribbles…

---

 

 

I wake up around ten with a start and think there is something seriously wrong with me—I have this crushing weight on my chest. Then I realize it’s just the glued-on breasts and sigh in relief.

I crawl out of bed and into the shower, where I stay under the steaming water until it runs cold—about forty-minutes…

What? We’re not on Tatooine!

What? Yes, I know we should like still conserve water…

Oh, bosh! Just go away!

Anyway, I finish my quick shower and pad back into my room with a towel wrapped around my chest and covering my ‘breasts’. It’s funny how well they actually do work to hold it up! It still feels funny having the weight on my chest, though. Especially when it sways with every step I take.

I sit down at my vanity and yawn. I put on the bare minimum of makeup, since I’ll just have to ramp it up for tonight.

I tuck and put on some comfy leggings and a large, soft sweatshirt—I think it’s lined with Tribble hair, it’s so soft.

What? O!M!G! Both the leggings and the shirt are pink. What’s your point?

Anyway, I put on some—yes, pink—ballet flats and make my way down the stairs to the kitchen.

Momma is sitting at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee. She gives me one look and just pours me one, too.

I sigh and smile as I take it.

What? Yeah…I’m getting used to it. She lets me drink it on weekends.

I doctor it up with some sugar and cream—nowhere near as much as when I first started drinking it, though. My goal is to be able to drink it black as Darth Vader’s cape.

What? I can’t help it! I watched ‘Stars Wars, A New Hope’, yesterday before getting ready for the gig.

What? Yeah, that one’s still like my fave! The first one and still the best!

What? I know it’s number four chronologically—but it was the first one made. I mean, like everyone knows that! Even the Borg Queen and she’s from an entirely different universe!

Anyway, I sit and drink my first cup of coffee and start telling Momma about the gig last night—and the upcoming disco night. While I’m telling her about it, she makes me a waffle and I pour us another cup of coffee—and then another.

By the time I’m done with my story and my waffle—I’ve had four big cups of coffee and feel rather wired.

I decide to watch ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ before I have to get ready for tonight. I ask, “Momma, you want to watch a movie with me? I would like rather watch it tonight, but, you know how it is with us poor working schlobs…” I giggle as she screws her face into a fake scowl.

Then she can’t help but giggle with me, “I suppose you want popcorn, too? And right after that waffle!”

I nod and go put the movie into the DVD player while she pops the corn.

I cuddle up to her on the couch and press play. I have trouble concentrating on the movie, though. Too many things are running through my head…

As Jimmy, I would often watch movies with my nerdy mom. As a young kid, I would cuddle up to her—but, I haven’t done so in a long time. Cuddled up to her as Jacie, though, seems somehow…well, right.

I take a handful of popcorn and slowly put one piece in my mouth at a time. I barely register the action in the movie as Vader wrecks his havoc.

I look at Momma—and fully realize for the first time that I really am thinking of her as ‘Momma’, now. Not that that’s like inherently a girl thing—but, it’s like something I’ve picked up from the Circle. Just like the ‘like’ that is increasingly becoming a part of my vocabulary and now my thought patterns, too it seems.

I absentmindedly take another handful of popcorn. I continue putting it into my mouth, one piece at a time.

I look down at myself on the couch. I’m snuggled into Momma, my legs tucked underneath me—just like I’ve seen Jillie do a thousand times.

Suddenly, I feel pink cotton candy start to fill my brain again. And Pink Tribbles start to purr in my stomach.

And I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing, or not.

I don’t even notice the movie come to an end…

---

 

 

The gig is a basic repeat of last night—although, we end much earlier, since it’s a school night. Even so, it’s still after eleven before I get into bed.

I lay there, my mind still swirling with the thoughts from my failed attempt at watching a movie with Momma.

Jillie’s goodnight kiss is still fresh in my mind and it only adds to my growing confusion.

I thought I was getting better at this whole ‘being a girl’ thing. I’m fairly certain it’s what I want. I mean, if my formerly repressed memories aren’t as fake as my Borg breasts.

I sigh and wonder what in the world I’m doing. I feel the cotton candy start to spread in my head again and sob into my pillow.

What? I thought it was gone, too!

I carve out a little cavern in the sticky mess in my head with a phaser and put a little square memory chip…

What? Yeah, it looks like a little painted piece of scrap wood…

Anyway, I put it there for safe keeping. I need to remember to talk to Rita about this.

I finally fall asleep and dream about the Borg implants expanding further into my body—becoming more integral to its functioning.

Then I dream of the Queen sending me into battle, like a good little Borg soldier—a true mindless drone just doing the hive’s bidding.

---

 

 

I’m groggy as I stumble down the steps for breakfast. I did not sleep well.

What? I don’t know what’s causing it! You don’t think I would fix it if I could? O!M!G!

Momma puts oatmeal down in front of me—and a cup of coffee, which surprises me!

I look at her, the surprise showing, and ask, “Is there a Death Star coming our way? A Romulan invasion? Galactus?”

Momma giggles, “No, silly. You’re almost sixteen and drinking it on the weekends, anyway. It’s also clear that you need something! Are you not feeling well? Betty called and Jill is sick today… Oh, and I got a text, your bus is going to be a little late.”

I shrug and take a sip of the coffee—black—and grimace. I take another and my shoulders give an involuntary shake. I sigh, “I like don’t know what’s wrong, Momma. I like had these weird dreams… I like feel like I’m losing myself. The longer this like goes on, the worse it’s getting.”

I take another sip of the bitter, black brew and shudder, then say before she can ask, “And, like yes, I’ve made a note to talk to Rita about it.”

Momma nods and replies, “OK, Hon. I know it’s an adjustment for you. Maybe we should have waited on the breast forms?”

I shudder, albeit a little less, as I take another sip of coffee. I take a nibble of oatmeal to cut the bitter taste. I swallow and shudder again, since the taste of the coffee is still dominating my taste buds. “I don’t know, Momma,” I reply. “Maybe I’m just tired. Or maybe I am coming down with something.”

Momma’s phone chirps, letting her know she has a text. She checks it and frowns, “Hmmm. Your bus is already ten minutes late and is going to be much later. A flat tire, or something. I guess I’ll just have to take you and drop you off my way to work. Come on, finish up! I’m already running late, now too. And why, in the name of Isis, aren’t you putting anything in that coffee?”

What? No! Not ‘Isis’ the terrorists! ‘Isis’ the Egyptian goddess. I told you Momma was a nerd—you know ‘Isis’, the old TV show?

No? Well, look it up! I don’t have time to educate you—or I’ll be late for my education!

Anyway, I shrug, “I want to learn to drink it black as Vader.”

Momma’s eyebrows disappear under her bangs and she just shakes her head.

I drain the cup of it’s bitter brew and shudder violently—but I do it! I drink it all!

I feel the acid churning in my stomach after the coffee burns its way down my throat, but I do my best to ignore it as I go up to brush my teeth and check my makeup.

---

 

 

Momma drops me off a block from the school parking lot and I start to make my way towards it to cut through the cars parked in it. The bell is just ringing and the last of the students are rushing in.

I should just make it before the tardy bell.

I’m lost in dark thoughts about my dreams when my path is suddenly blocked before I actually step foot onto school property.

I look up and see a Klingon glaring at me.

What? No, not a real Klingon! I know I fantasize about them, but this is some guy wearing a Klingon mask.

I look around—there’s not a soul in sight. Everyone else is already inside…

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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Jacie went to extreme lengths to help a pretty girl struggling with her past. The result was an unexpected twist of fate.

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Battle of the Bangs

Copyright © 2018 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
All image originals sourced from Creative Commons.
All movie-related references made in this novel are trademarked by Paramount Pictures, Disney, Universal Pictures, or Marvel. All other characters are completely fictitious and any similarities with actual persons are purely coincidental.

---

Author’s Note: OK, I’ve taken a step back and made some edits to my third part. My overall storyline is the same, but I have tweaked some things a bit. I know it’s taken a while, but I am also in the midst of trying times, myself. Anyway, I’ll continue to keep a thumb on the pulse of responses (comments and kudos) moving forward and will gauge whether continuing the story is something that seems to be desired, or not.

Thanks for everyone’s support!

HUGS!
Shauna

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Part Three

I look at the figure and stand frozen in abject fear—and exasperation.

Something is not right.

What? Of course, a person standing in my way, wearing a Klingon mask isn’t right! That’s not what I mean!

That never happened. I mean, I think it didn’t. My subconscious is telling me that this isn’t right.

I’m like totally confused and don’t know what’s going on…

That doesn’t stop my abject fear from completely paralyzing me. I can’t move. I can’t run—in either direction. Not away from the figure and not towards it either. My heart is pounding. I want to scream!

Why would Momma drop me off alone and in the open like this? It makes no sense!

More than confused—I’m like hurt.

What? No! No I’m not bleeding or anything. I mean psychologically hurt! Duh!

I’m likely going to die because my mother abandoned me to the enemy—there’s no amount of Borg technology that will protect me in this situation.

I feel betrayed; stabbed in the back—again. My mother turned out to be a Cardassian, after-all…

I steel myself for the death shot. I can’t move, so I may as well just give into the fact that I’m going to die.

I wish I could say that I get all Zen and accept my fate with cool calm.

No, nothing like that, at all. I like totally freaked and my heart is racing!

Just as I know the end is here, the figure makes a surprise move and starts to pull its mask off.

Then…

I hear the ‘snap’ of someone’s fingers and I blink just as I catch the briefest of glimpses of the figure’s face and gasp.

I blink again as I am suddenly transported from the scene into a somehow familiar room.

I’m thoroughly confused and I’m sure my Borg technology is failing. Whether it’s still functioning enough to save me, or not, is up for grabs, right not now. There’s no like doubt, however, that it’s certainly faulty. But it seems to have somehow transported me out of there.

I feel myself start to hyperventilate—still certain this is the end as I struggle to breathe. I don’t trust anything that I see—or think is real, right now. Everything seems…off… Wherever I am is probably still just as dangerous.

I feel someone press a bag up to my face. I breathe in and out into it…

I feel light-headed and see spots in front of my eyes. In spite of the bag over my face, I still feel panicked!

In and out…

The spots get dimmer and I feel the beginnings of a light headache behind my eyes.

In and out…

Slowly, my vision clears and the pressure from the newly-formed cotton candy clogging my brain starts to lesson.

Ever so slowly, reality becomes clearer and the world comes back into focus.

I look over at the two females sitting in the room with me and slowly push at the well-manicured hand holding the paper bag over my face.

I actually glare at them and almost have to start using the bag again.

I sigh and feel my glare at Rita and Gina soften as I lose my focus on them and refocus on my breathing. I take a deep and very shaky breath, then shake my head to try and break apart the still very real-feeling cotton candy that continues to thoroughly clog it up with fuzzy thoughts and sticky uncertainty.

I slowly start remembering what was actually going on and feel…pissed…

Rita looks at me intently and with obvious concern. She was obviously the one that had pressed the bag to my face, since she is right there and ready to press it to my face again at a moment’s notice. Not to be outdone, though, Gina is ogling me with palpable consternation. Rita is holding my trembling hand and I fight the urge to jerk it loose so that I can ball up the paper bag and throw it at them!

She quietly lets go of my hand and hands me a tissue. I blot my brow—it’s covered with a cold sweat. My heart is still pounding, but reality continues to slowly eke its way back into my consciousness as the terrifying scene just as slowly fades from my mind.

I continue to fight the urge to crumble the paper bag—but I honestly don’t know if I will like actually need it again.

I curse the Borg Queen—or is that Queens?—that has—have?— just invaded—no violated—my mind. I find my center of focus once again and glare at the two in front of me with unvarnished and swirling emotions. I lose the battle with myself and loudly crush the bag in a fit of rage.

Finally, I break the further silence that is still permeating the room, “Well, that was interesting—not! Remind me to politely, or otherwise, decline your invitation to like hypnotize me next time you want to.”

I feel myself start to shake again—less in fury now, but more because of unspent adrenalin vacating my body after prepping my body for a futile fight or flight situation.

One that wasn’t even close to real. Did I mention that I am pissed? If not—well, I am!

That was terrifying! My heart starts pounding again, just thinking about it.

Gina shakes her head and says, “I think we got enough out of that session for ten psychiatry students to write their dissertations. We need to talk about some of the immediate things, then Rita and I need to confer—and then we’ll all three need to reconvene and talk some more.”

I sit there, seething. I about sh…err cra… err…pooped in my pants and all she can think about are dissertations?

I don’t get a chance to retort in a less-than-respectful manner before Rita takes my hand again and says, “I think we made some real progress here, Hon. I know you don’t think so—but there was some powerful stuff in there.”

My roiling blood doesn’t settle.

I shake my head—it still like feels fuzzy with cotton candy—and get my chance now to retort, “Powerful? I don’t get it! I like only recounted what has happened since I went to school the first time as Jacie. You know what happened—even if I was supposed to act like you didn’t! We’ve gone over it all again and again before, in our sessions. The only thing that I like don’t get was there at the end with the Klingon. That never happened! And it like freaked me out!”

There! I showed them! Phasers set to full!

What? I know it’s a lame response—but, I’m like honestly still totally freaked out!!!

Gina seems to be oblivious to my freaked-outness and just nods. Rita also seems to be in La-La-Land and simply gets up and goes to the small refrigerator in her office. She pulls out a Diet Pepsi and hands it to me with the question, “Unless you’d rather have coffee? I just love hot coffee on a cold day, don’t you?”

I want to explode in frustration, but like forcefully blow the air out of my lungs and shake my head.

Coffee? Really? Who… I mean…it does sort of sound good…

I grimace and open the Diet and the pop of the can opening is reminiscent of what I feel like my head should be doing—letting off a ton of pressure before it explodes and sends cotton candy into space.

I take a big gulp of the Diet while she refreshes their coffee, but it like somehow doesn’t taste right. I notice the coffee smells really good, though. Something isn’t right…

Again.

Before I can process that, though, Gina says, “Ok, Hon. Just settle your nerves. I know you have questions, but let’s start at the beginning, shall we? We’ll get to that scene at the end in a bit. I have some ideas, but I want to let them percolate a little before I come to any sort of final conclusions.”

Rita just nods and takes a sip of her coffee after blowing the steam in my direction.

I get a strong whiff of the steam and suddenly the siren song of hot coffee short-circuits my Borg implants and they betray me. It just smells so good and I like just have to have some.

What? I have no idea why? I feel like some addict that needs her fix. I am actually salivating—like some sort of Pavlov’s dog!

What? Oh…yeah… I like did just say ‘her’…

Huh! Like whatever!

Anyway, I sigh, totally confused. I don’t know what’s going on in my brain, right now and it pushes me further into the abyss of unknown—and terrifying—deep space. To take my mind off of those paralyzing thoughts, I focus on my immediate need and ask, “Rita, could I have some coffee, too? I appreciate the Diet, but… Umm, I like just have this sudden craving for coffee.”

She looks surprised—well, sort of— and shakes her head as she inquires, “So, that was a true part of your story? Cindy really lets you have coffee? But you actually like it—contrary to what you recounted in your story? That was there at the end where things were getting muddled with what I know to be true. You had me a tad bit confused. I mean you seemed to not really like it, no?”

I pinch my eyes and squeeze them hard to keep the pressure from blowing them out of my head. Where is the real Deanna Troi when you need her? I thought they were like here to help me?! I’m like so confused, right now! All that is happening here is that I’m getting more and more confused!

I shrug and retort, “Well, no. I mean, at least not like in the way that I remember telling it, just now. Like, she does occasionally let me have some, though. I’m not sure why I’m craving it now… This is like all so weird! It’s got me freaked out, to be honest!”

Gina seems ever-so-slightly amused—although, she is trying really hard to hide it—and I hear the whine of a phaser overloading—it must be my head getting ready to explode.

She seems to get herself under control and her face turns into a blank mask as she innocently says, “I think it would be OK to let you have some—you obviously had a craving for caffeine while you were under hypnosis and folded that into your dream. Now, that craving you crafted under hypnosis is just carrying over to a craving in reality. It’s like we told you before we put you under, hypnosis is sort of like a guided dream—but we can only guide you so far. Just like with any navigation system, you’re still at the helm of the dream.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose again. I’m sure the pressure is going to have me hemorrhaging cotton candy again. I thought I was immune to CC-Bola after my last bout with it.

Navigation system? I’m pretty sure I just got transported to the Voyager right as it was thrown into the depths of the Delta Quadrant. What good is a navigation system now that we’re nowhere in the known universe?

Rita fights a smirk and hands me a cup of freshly poured coffee.

I’m beginning to feel like the butt-end of a bad joke to the them. I give her an acidic glare and take the cup with a mumbled ‘Thanks’. I take a sip of the vile liquid—black as Darth Vader’s cape—just like in my ‘dream’. And, just like in my dream, I grimace like a Klingon dreaming of Tribbles and give an involuntary and uncontrollable shudder.

I withhold the Klingon curse that threatens to come to my lips and once again wonder what is going on with me.

What? They wouldn’t understand the curse, anyway! No more than I understand what on Hoth is going on with me. Craving this vile scum isn’t helping my confusion any! It’s not like I need to wake up…

Or do I? Am I still dreaming?

I pinch myself and hiss at the pain.

Rita gives me a questioning look and nods towards the cream and sugar with a knowing grin. I get the feeling she’s taunting me, but I just stare at the coffee resolutely and take another sip—as if it’s some life-sustaining elixir.

I shudder uncontrollably again. I think they may feel the shockwaves hundreds of miles away. There may be imminent tsunami warnings…

It’s the strangest sense of déjà vu. But, something is like compelling me to drink it.

What? Like I can’t help myself—it’s just so good.

I shudder again. This more like an after-shock, though.

I look into the ebony depths of the cup and feel like I’m staring into a distillation of my current mood.

Again, before I can really process the contradictions this whole thing elicits, Rita jumps in, “So, there are a couple of basic things that I noticed as you were recounting your story. As you know, we took you back about two months—to the first day you went to school as Jacie and had you relate what has transpired as if we had no knowledge of the events. The first big thing I noticed, is that you would often get really agitated if we would ask you any sort of follow-up or follow-on questions. Your language would, at times, get a little rough—and you certainly didn’t like it if we called you on that.”

I look at her, still like totally confused, and hiccup in frustration.

What? They have an issue with my ‘language’? I’ll show them language!

I stare harder into the cup and could swear that it just got blacker! The liquid must be a mirror of my soul. I’m getting pretty convinced of that!

Before I can further react, though, she winks and takes a sip of coffee, then continues, “The second thing I noticed is that you were—mostly—short and concise with your statements. For the most part, they were devoid of any emotion—almost clinical in nature.”

I blink. I mean… Umm…

Huh? Like, I have emotions!

What? I do.

Err… Right? What is this I’m feeling right now—if not emotional? I mean I was just talking about how my mood is as black as the coffee. That I’m confused. That I was—still am—terrified.

Those like don’t count? Really?

Gina jumps in, “Except when we would ask questions, as Rita already mentioned.”

I feel my face burn! They need to get over this issue of them interrupting me—they were wanting me to tell the story, after-all! How was I like supposed to that with all of those interruptions?

Wait! I’m pissed! That’s like an emotion! Right? Right?

Rita nods and continues, “The third thing I noticed, is that you seemed to struggle with yourself when you got more emotional—you would default to your more clinical ‘self’ and would quickly return to it when you seemed to stray from that path.”

I blink and then look hard at Rita to make sure she hasn’t turned into a Cardassian—or worse. She’s like portraying me as some sort of robot. I’m not Data… Have I really become an emotionless Borg drone?

What? I’m human, dammit! Not some android or cyborg controlled by others. I mean just because I let kids keep me from wearing panties so long ago doesn’t mean…

Oh…

What? I didn’t say I agree! I just like sort of see what she is saying.

Anyway, Gina just nods with pursed lips.

I deflate—semi-defeated—and sigh as Rita asks, “Does that make sense, Jacie? Do you agree with what I just outlined? Is that you?”

I take a sip of the still-steaming coffee and shudder. I’m not sure which is steaming more—me or the coffee. I’m like also still not really sure why I’m drinking the shudder-inducing pond scum, to begin with.

Perplexed, pissed, and…intrigued, I further ponder her question as I take another shudder-inducing sip.

I contemplate and sigh.

I look at the same angles and from a different direction sigh again.

Try as I might, I still come to the same conclusion—I am human and I have emotions. I just don’t like showing them because that has always been a recipe for disaster as a guy. I decide to deflect.

What? It like makes the most sense! I know they won’t take silence as an answer for much longer.

I retort more than a little petulantly, “I guess what you were saying like makes sense, but I don’t know how to answer whether that like describes me, or not. Isn’t that like what you are supposed to tell me?”

Both Rita and Gina laugh and Rita exclaims, “Touché!”

I giggle in spite of myself and sip more pond scum—although, it’s beginning to taste more like warp reactor coolant now.

What? That’s an upgrade! What did you think? At least coolant fluid has a purpose! What good is pond scum?

What? An android should know that? Go away! I’m human dammit!

Anyway, Rita takes a sip of her own pond…umm…warp reac…ummm…coffee and like seems to reflect on my, …well…my accusation, a moment and then says, “OK, let me see if I can put this in your terms…”

I look at her and feel the pressure in my brain increase. I’m not sure if it’s cotton candy—or something much worse.

My terms? Why wouldn’t she do that in the first place? Is she like calling me stupid, or something?

She takes another sip of…coffee and then slowly starts, “So, let’s see… In Star Trek, Mr. Spock is half-Vulcan, half-Human, right?”

Spock? What does he like have anything to do with…?

I cough, surprised, and nod—completely baffled about where this is like going. I’m sure the consternation is visible on my ‘unemotional’ Borg face as I stare at her like she is the Borg.

She mocks me with a ‘stupid face’ and smiles, “Bear with me. So, he was raised on Vulcan and trained to take a place in the Vulcan Science Academy. He was conditioned from early childhood to embrace logic as a way of life—to repress his emotions. But he innately had them—as any other Vulcan would. The difference being that his mother often would encourage him to make use of them. Are you with me, so far?”

I want to be snarky, I really do. I know that’s not the best course of action, though, so I simply nod.

For now…

What? Of course, I’m still like highly confused!

Anyway, she smiles and nods as she continues, “Now, back to you. What I’m about to say is highly stereotypical and not what I believe, but it will illustrate my point, OK?”

I nod and smirk as I feel my eyes cross with impatience as to where this going.

What? The smirk? She just admitted that she’s flawed! So what if I have ‘emotional’ issues?

Anyway, she continues, “So, in your case, you were raised from early childhood as a boy—and discouraged from exhibiting any sort of feminine behavior. Not so much from your parents, but from your peers. Much like Vulcans are discouraged from allowing their emotions to rise to the surface.”

I feel the cotton candy expand in my skull and squeeze my brain. I nod slowly at her questioning look, but want to say something snarky so badly. The problem is that I actually am following her.

And I’m not sure I like where this is going—even if I still don’t know where that is.

She nods back and continues, “So, this is the stereotypical part. Boys or—more accurately—men tend to be less emotional, while girls, in general, tend to embrace their emotions more and even use them to their advantage. Again, I’m not saying that’s always the case, but that’s sort of the prevailing opinion. Am I right? You know—Guys are the Vulcans and girls are the Humans in this case.”

I look at her suspiciously. I sense a Klingon trap, but can’t deny her words and so I nod. I am, however, still lost as Voyager in the Delta Quadrant.

Rita ignores my confounded look and my steadfast silence. She plunges on, “So, this is where it gets a little complicated, but I think you’ll be able to keep up.”

She winks…

I feel like throwing up.

What? Maybe it’s the pond scum? It couldn’t be her affront on my intelligence, now could it? Of course, the desire to throw up also couldn’t be emotions, right?

Anyway, she continues, “OK. Spock had a choice to make, right? He ultimately chose sort of a hybrid solution to fit his hybrid nature. He was born with both Vulcan and Human traits and was raised being pulled in both directions—even if Mother usually ‘played nice’ and let the Vulcans heavily influence his psyche. Ultimately, though, he spurned the Science Academy and joined Star Fleet to make it work as best he could. Even so, he still chose logic over emotion in the end. The thing is, you see, that Vulcans can’t completely ignore their emotions, right? They undergo ‘pon-far’ every seven years.”

I nod, still not getting it. Pon-far? I mean that’s common knowledge—but what’s that like got to do with me? It’s not like I’m about to go into a murderous rampage if I don’t have sex…

On the other hand, I do feel a little like I am about to enter pon-far and strangle her. Maybe just not kill her…

Nope! At least it won’t be a murderous rampage!

She forges on, unfettered, and the few surviving, but endangered Tribbles in my head hungrily start eating the abundant cotton candy that’s clogging it up, “If we apply that to you, then you were born a genetic male—but, at the very least, with strong female tendencies; but, more likely, fully transgendered. That means you have a choice to make, like Spock. And, like Spock, you’re struggling with that choice—especially when your ‘other’ nature rises up and exhibits itself. The one that you have so long been conditioned to suppress.”

I blink and a familiar star—our Earth’s sun—in the alpha quadrant pops up on the navigation computer, but it’s still like 70,000 light years away—roughly seventy-five years at warp ten.

What? I mean it like actually makes a little sense. Well sort of—in a warped sort of way.

What? No! Not ‘warp’ like in ‘warp engine’! I mean, like really?

Gina perks up and nods enthusiastically. It’s her turn to take over the conversation, “I see where you’re going with this, Rita. I’ve said before, I’m not a Trekkie, but I’m still following you. That was a genius analogy. So, if I understand what you’re saying, the dichotomy that Jacie is showing is akin to that likeness. The clinical Jacie—or, the logical one, using your analogy—is her conditioned male side. And the emotional side she exhibits is her repressed female one!”

I look back and forth between the two—at the moment I like really can’t fathom what planet they must be from. It can’t be an advanced one, though! What was the name of that one that the Enterprise visited at the beginning of ‘Into the Darkness’? You know—where Spock goes into the volcano and Kirk gets demoted…

What? Of course, the rebranded Star Trek movies aren’t as good as the old ones! But, that doesn’t mean I won’t watch them. I just don’t remember the details as well…

What? Why did I think that to begin with? This whole gibberish is very akin to balderdash—not to mention outright witchcraft. Those aborigines on that planet would be idolizing these two by now. Back in Salem, here on Earth, I think they would like be burning at the stake!

Of course, the Borg Queen whispers in my mind that there is no such thing as witchcraft and that would be just another witch hunt…

Anyway, Gina continues to nod to herself and continues to dominate the session for a minute, “So, Jacie, under hypnosis, you still exhibited your strong male conditioning as your ‘default’ mode—but at times you went through this ‘pon-far’-thing and your ‘female’ emotions took over. I agree with Rita—that’s a very stereotypical representation, but a very effective way to portray it.”

I’m close to screaming! Who cares about stereos? Who listens to mono, anymore! Can you even like still get it? Well…maybe the cheaper Bluetooth speakers, but…

What? That’s what you use? Really? Ummm… I have some Borg technology that I can ‘donate’ that will certainly help…

Rita nods, “So, now to the Borg.”

I do a double-take and she giggles.

What? Maybe she can read minds! I think she must be part Betazoid, after-all! And like why does everything always have to come back to the Borg?

I sigh and feel drained.

Gina refreshes everyone’s pond scum…err…coffee and Rita continues after I take another shudder-inducing sip of piping-hot pond sc…err…coffee. “There are two main species that suppress emotion on Star Trek, the Vulcans and the Borg. Although, technically, I guess the Borg aren’t really a species—and, well, the Queen has emotions. But, anyway, I digress…”

I sigh as I think about the Queen. She certainly does have her emotions—and she keeps forcing them on me. Although, that’s not normal for just any drone. She must be taking a special interest in me… Am I the new Piccard? He escaped the whole mess.

So, can I?

Rita shrugs and takes a sip of coffee after blowing the steam off of her cup in my direction—causing me to have another uncontrollable urge to take another sip myself.

She continues, seemingly oblivious to the effect on me, “The main difference is that it’s the Vulcans’ choice, while it’s forced on the Borg drones.”

I nod to show my understanding, but, in reality, I’m once again thrown further into the Delta Quadrant. I am starting to have problems focusing on this whole thing. My mind starts to wander, but I do my best to act like I’m paying full attention.

What? I can’t show weakness now! I don’t like understand a frickin’ word she’s saying?

What? Are you really going to start on that ‘language’ thing again?

OK, then! I like thought not!

Jillie wants me to get that pair of boots with the four-inch heels, but they just didn’t feel right…

Rita plunges on and sort of half hear her, “You seem to be identifying more with the Borg than with the Vulcans in that regard. I don’t think that’s a fluke—you’re sub-consciously processing the suppression of your female side as forced. And rightfully so—just like a Borg drone would if the Queen would allow them to process it, that is. Anyway, that suppression is so ingrained in you now that when it’s being removed, you perceive that as by force, as well. Just like a Borg drone would inherently resist the removal of its implants.”

Wait! What? I watch my eyes blow through the glass in the window from the antimatter-explosion in my head. Even just paying half attention blew my mind completely. Just think if I had been paying full!

I can’t help myself, a very astute response escapes my lips. “Huh?”

Gina giggles, “I get it, Rita. Jacie, you feel as if the choice to be a girl was taken from you when those kids taunted you, so long ago. That forced you into the repression of those memories and the suppression of your true inborn female self. That then became your new norm—just like when a person is ‘assimilated’ by the Borg and they embrace the hive mentality. Now, that your free will has been returned to you—like when the Borg implants are removed from a drone and the hive mentality is neutralized—you don’t know how to deal with reality. Your mind defaults back to its ‘comfort zone’—its conditioning—and you think it’s being forced on you.”

I see that dim star again and know that I’m back to just seventy-five years away from home—if I can maintain warp ten in the right direction. That’s a very big ‘if’ though.

What? I’m not saying I agree with their cra…ummm, animal excrements—but, at least I’m starting to see the path they’re following.

Or—at least I think I am. This whole thing is still giving me a headache, though. I think I can cross off becoming a shrink from my list of dream jobs. You have to be too sadistic…

Rita blows more coffee-scented steam my way and I have the urge to take another sip of my own pond sc…err, coffee.

She nods in thought and takes the conversation back over, “So, you see, Jacie. Your clinical—or logical—delivery is just your sub-consciousness at work. The session clearly showed your dichotomy and inner turmoil. It also clearly shows that you still have a long way to go to be comfortable in your skin. I don’t think that’s news to you—or us, for that matter—though.”

I feel my nose scrunch up and I reach up to pinch it. I really want to scream right now. I feel my face start to burn and the pressure in my head sky-rockets.

What? I’m frustrated! I went through all of this and all they get out of it is that I’m not ‘comfortable in my own skin’?

I cool the phasers that are powering up in my eyes and sigh deeply. I also hold my tongue—for now.

Barely. Anything I would say would not be like productive.

Not that anything in this session has been!

Gina looks at me with seeming understanding and adds, “I know you think this was somehow wasted effort.”

I catch my eyes before they leave again. I guess she must be part Betazoid, too.

What? My face? Yeah that could like be a dead giveaway, I guess.

She continues on, oblivious to my inner musings, “I promise you it wasn’t. Rita and I learned a lot about you that we wouldn’t have, otherwise—now we can work on a better plan to help you on your personal trek.”

I blink. Was the supposed to be a pun? I barely keep the groan from escaping my lips. Of course, I think my face screwing up into another grimace may be another giveaway…

She takes a sip of her coffee and hides a slight grin behind her cup, then turns serious again and continues, “And I want to comment on one specific statement that you made—which should accurately reflect your memory of the actual conversation. You are not ‘so screwed up’ that you ‘need two shrinks’. How you’re processing this is a very normal reaction to what you’ve gone through, young lady. Am I clear on that?”

I feel my face turn bright pink as the cotton candy forces itself back into my head and nod.

I don’t feel any better, though. I’ve still been attacked by the Klingons, knifed in the back by the Cardassians, sold by the Ferengi, and assimilated by the Borg. How is that supposed to make me feel?

What? Oh… Yeah, I guess that’s her point…

Who wouldn’t need two shrinks?

Like, huh!

Rita chimes in again, “Absolutely! I’ll also add that I won’t mention your language usage to your Momma. However, I don’t want to hear any of it again. Am I clear, young lady?”

I can’t help myself, “Bite me!”

What? No, I don’t say it—but I certainly think it! That’s good enough, right?

I do, however, blush deeper and hold my tongue. My reflexive response would likely not suit me well, here, so I just nod. I can barely reign in my phasers, though.

Rita registers my annoyance and blows more steam my way—I take another sip of coffee. I don’t shudder—as much—anymore.

I let the bitter acid settle in my stomach and chew furiously on the inside of my cheek.

What? No, it doesn’t taste like cotton candy!

After a few seconds of complete silence in the room—and me still thinking about those boots—I inquire about the one thing that really bothers me about the whole episode, “But what about that part at the end? Momma abandoning me on my own like that—and the Klingon mask?”

What? I want to know! That part really bothers me. Who cares if the Betazoid witches that conjured up the scene have to try and explain it to me?

Gina nods and says, “I may not be a Trekkie, but I am a Star Wars fan. You mentioned watching it lately in your recounting. I assume that’s factual?”

My head jerks around to her so hard I feel the cotton candy rattle in my brain.

What? I know cotton candy shouldn’t rattle—unless it’s old and hard…

Anyway, that non-sequitur leaves me so confused that the familiar star is like quickly shrinking in size again as I’m thrown back deeper into the Delta Quadrant. This one lightyear forward, ten lightyears back thing in my understanding is getting monotonous.

I almost forget to nod that it’s correct that I had been watching ‘Star Wars’.

What? There is no crime in liking both!

She nods, “I’m going out on a limb here, but did you by any chance catch a glimpse of who was under that mask before we woke you up from the session? I think you may have…”

My mind forcefully returns to those last moments of my dream state and I blush as I see the face as plain as day.

I timidly nod. I like really don’t want to go down that galaxy and try to hide behind the steam escaping from my own coffee, but it just stabs me in the back and entices me into taking another sip.

I struggle with the revelation and fight the confession that will have to come to get any sort of answers. If I hide the truth and tell a lie, it won’t do any good.

Err, right? Saving face here is not the wise course of action. Right?

I give in and sigh. I take a deep breath and blow it out as I say in a resigned and confused tone, “It was, ummm… Well, it was… Me…”

She nods, “As I postulated. I want you to understand that this is just a working hypothesis, Jacie—I want to discuss it more with Rita. There’s actually a lot the two of us need to discuss—then the three of us after that.”

I nod impatiently. I feel my whole body shaking with fear, anticipation, and anger at her stalling. Who cares about the long list of possible side effects? I mean this is as annoying as those drug advertisements on TV!

“Don’t take XYZ if you are allergic to it…”

I mean, like duh!

Anyway, I really want to shout, “Get on with it!”

I feel my phasers powering up to the ‘kill’ setting but hold my tongue and my phasers—for now. I take a sip of coffee, instead.

What? I don’t know why! Haven’t we already established that? At least I’m not allergic to it!

She smiles as she watches the emotions play across my face. I want to set my phasers loose, but then I wouldn’t get an answer!

Finally, she continues, “Do you remember when Luke went into the cave on Dagobah? How Darth Vader turned out to be Luke? I think this is a similar thing—only your fear is not the Dark Side—not as Luke would see it, anyway. Your fear is setting your emotional ‘female’ self free. What’s more naturally emotional than a Klingon? You were basically telling yourself you’re your own worst enemy. Our questions about your emotional state at the end of the session prompted you down that path.”

My eyes widen and I chase them down as they escape and try to get back to familiar territory ahead of me.

What? It must be some part of their evolving Borg technology—being to finally escape again. Anyway, the familiar star is getting larger, again—maybe down to just seventy years at warp ten, now…

Could that be right? I mean it sort of makes sense. This whole session has become so weird—Psychology by the word of Kirk and Vader…

I feel my head nod slowly and I say pensively, my thoughts still in a turmoil, “But what about Momma basically throwing me to the Klingon…? Myself, if that’s what you’re saying? How does that make any sense?”

Gina hits me dead-center with a photon torpedo, then follows it up with her ship’s phasers set to ‘obliterate’. I can’t tell if hers is a Klingon ship, or friendly fire, though.

She responds, “Remember when we said you perceive yourself as a Borg drone that is being ripped from the hive and you’re fighting to stay, because it’s all you know—or remember. Basically, it’s what you’re most comfortable with?”

I nod—the star is fading again. I get the feeling I’m not going to like where she’s going. I am literally running out of steam, though, and can’t find the energy to get my phasers loaded.

She keeps relentlessly pounding my useless shields with her weapons, “Well, your subconscious self is blaming your Momma for your plight. She’s the one that originally put the thought in your mind that it’s OK to wear girls’ panties after your repressed memories were jogged loose. That is the point from which everything else sort of snow-balled and has thrown your life into the Delta Quadrant. I think you owe your Momma an apology. It’s not her fault, Sweetheart! You know she would never throw you to the wolves—Klingon or otherwise.”

I don’t even catch the Delta Quadrant piece as the volley of photon torpedoes hit me square in my Borg breasts and blow through them with a horrific blast to pierce my heart and shatter it.

What? I know she’s like right. I mean—it suddenly makes sense!

What? No, I didn’t say I like it—at all…

I feel all anger drain from me into space—left behind at warp ten.

I blink twice as I sit there, completely emotionally obliterated—and start sobbing.

Rita takes me into a tight hug and lets me cry it out.

After several minutes of uncontrollable sobbing, I push back from Rita and use the tissue she hands me to wipe the tears from my face and eyes. My makeup may be waterproof, but I know it’s completely ruined by the fact that a large portion of it wipes off on the new handful of tissues she gives me to replace the soaked and disintegrating first one.

What? Of course, I have an emergency makeup kit with me. What did you think? Kate would have my pretty little Borg-infested head on a silver platter, if I didn’t! I don’t get what your point is, though? Like I should be worried about that, right now? It was simply an observation!

Oh…right… Clinical thinking again…

Anyway, a thought hits me and I ask, maybe just a little petulantly, “So, how do you know the hypnosis actually worked? I could have been like making it all up. You know, on purpose—or, or…not.”

Gina just smiles this semi-evil smile and blows out over the cup of coffee in her hand—like she’s cooling it down. The steam hits my nostrils and I automatically reach out for my own cup and take a sip of the stuff that’s now tasting more like a bitter beverage that I should be drinking and less like pond scum that I should be avoiding.

Rita just grins—a little evilly, too—and says with a wink, “Oh, we have our ways, Hon. Trust me. We have our ways…”

She makes a point of taking a sip of her coffee.

I want to scream! Hit her with my phasers set to obliterate! Curse her in Klingon! Anything!

What? I want to know! She seems so sure. I mean I know I’m not making anything up—but how do they know?

But she remains infuriatingly silent on what those ‘ways’ are and says instead, “Now, I think you may want to go fix your makeup before your Momma comes to pick you up. Here, why don’t I get you some ice for this Diet Pepsi? I can’t stand hot Pepsi. Can you? I think the cold fizzy drink will taste much better than coffee on ice—although, there’s nothing wrong with a good cup of hot coffee. Especially on a cold day. Don’t you agree?”

I give her a bewildered look and take the cup of ice and the can of Diet with me towards the powder room. I leave the cup of coffee on the table—forgotten. As I pass Gina, she blows steam from her cup my way and I walk right through it.

I’m looking forward to my fizzy Diet on ice.

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As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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Jacie went to extreme lengths to help a pretty girl struggling with her past. The result was an unexpected twist of fate.

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Battle of the Bangs

Copyright © 2018 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
All image originals sourced from Creative Commons.
All movie-related references made in this novel are trademarked by Paramount Pictures, Disney, Universal Pictures, or Marvel. All other characters are completely fictitious and any similarities with actual persons are purely coincidental.

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Author’s Note:

So…

I know I left everyone in a dazed and confused state of mind after the last part. It was on purpose and to give you a sense of Jacie’s state-of-mind. The comments and comparable lack of thumbs-ups/kudos certainly made it clear that not everyone appreciated the part. While that doesn’t come as a surprise to me, there is a method to my madness and I appreciate those of you who are still sticking with me on this story.

If you are looking for some ‘normalcy’ and answers, this part should fit that bill. Just don’t look for all of the answers!

My hope is that this will make up for the dark and confusing parts leading up to this one.

Once again, thanks for everyone’s support!

HUGS!
Shauna

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Part Four

I look at myself in the small, but well-lit mirror in the powder room and grimace at the ruined makeup on my face. Kate would have a cow!

Me? I’m completely drained and don’t have the energy to obsess over my face—even though I have to admit that I look terrible. There are like a thousand thoughts flitting through my cotton candy-filled brain.

What? Yeah, it’s back—like with a vengeance!

I look at my watch—I was in there for over an hour and I only like really remember the last fifteen minutes!

What? Yeah, weird, right?

I like remember telling them the events from my first day at school as Jacie through until almost the present. But, I don’t remember the time that past doing it.

What? Yeah, like I said. Weird.

Anyway, I remember them asking me to portray all that has happened as if they had no knowledge of the events that took place. I don’t like remember any other questions, though, after that initial one. I only like really remember that persistently annoyed feeling when they must have asked additional ones. I’m not sure what was so annoying, though. That’s still fuzzy—just that it really was.

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly while I watch my makeup-streaked cheeks expand from the force of the air I am expelling. When the air is out of my lungs, I take another deep breath and then a deep sip of ice-cold Diet. I nearly purr at the taste of the fizzy goodness.

I shake my head—what was it with the coffee, anyway? It’s like I couldn’t get enough of it…

Maybe I am losing my mind—or have lost it already! Do the Borg need special shrinks? Or—if the Queen had a shrink, would it filter down to all the drones? Maybe I need three—or four. A whole hive of them? Do I need to get the Queen to assimilate more shrinks?

I giggle at the random—and absurd—thoughts flitting through the cotton candy in my head.

Yeah—it’s back, all right. It’s got my mind all mucked-up again. The sticky pink fibers are permeating every corner of my brain—and maybe that’s a good thing. I mean, well. Oh, bosh! What do I mean? I am still so confused from all that just happened, right now.

And the day is really just getting started!

I shrug in resignation and thoroughly wash my face; stripping off all signs of makeup. Then I put on some light makeup from my emergency supply kit. I’ll like fix it properly when I get home. I’ll need more than an emergency kit to do it right—and I’ll need a much more sophisticated look for tonight, anyway. So I would have been redoing it no matter what.

I will like also need a whole new supply of energy to tackle that…

What? No, not like the makeup. Tonight! Duh!

When everything seems to be back in some semblance of order…

What? No… I’m not in order. What did you think? Just like my face.

Anyway, I put my makeup back into its little pouch and stick that in my purse. Then I sit down on the toilet to relieve myself of the gallon—gallons? —of coffee I like must have consumed in there.

What was it with the coffee—and why did those two seem so smug about me drinking it? Or were they? It’s all such a fog. They seemed smug—but then I wasn’t really processing things clearly after that hypnotic session.

Was I just being paranoid?

But, then again, why the coffee? And why did they seem to be hiding something—smug or not?

I shrug in frustration and finish my business; then get everything situated down below. I check myself one more time in the mirror as I wash my hands and decide it’s like as good as it’s going to get.

I leave the powder room and enter the office to find Rita and Gina in an animated conversation. They immediately get quiet and smile at me when I enter the room.

I’m not sure, but the silence seems deafening and their smiles seem a bit forced—or am I just being paranoid again?

What? How does that make me feel? How would it make you feel? What an idiotic question! Studying to be a shrink, are you?

Anyway, I am like feeling really vulnerable right now and I don’t really trust my own feelings. That is how I feel!

Gina comes over and gives me a hug and Rita says, “I’ll see you tonight, Hon. I was able to score a reservation for Scott and me at the Disco Party. It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you! P2SK is becoming quite the hot item at the Goddess—and around town.”

I smile. Thinking of tonight is a bittersweet distraction and I quickly seize on it, since thinking about what just went on is just giving me a bumper-crop of cotton candy-head.

What? It takes my mind off all of what just happened. Distraction, or not, it’s still a huge reminder that I’m going to be the lead female singer of a popular band at a huge gig tonight. And that’s a direct result of what we were just discussing.

I feel my knees go weak again as my head threatens to explode and send cotton candy to the moon. It seems there is no relief for this poor overtaxed mind of mine. No matter which way I turn, there’s a storm of controversy!

I nod with a sigh and give her a meek hug. I force myself to focus on the band for a minute, “I know and I’m still not sure how I feel about that, either. It’s not like I ever had any aspirations of being like a singer.”

I clench my fists to stop the tremor in my hands. I let out a deep breath and focus on something positive, “At any rate, Apollo’s niece is like really nice and it should be a lot of fun. We’ve enjoyed expanding our song list beyond just ABBA. But, now Apollo is talking about expanding it from disco into classic rock…”

I shrug at my inability to maintain a positive thought, without immediately regressing into a controversy again. I feel a lopsided grin form on my war-torn face as I try to put a positive spin on my thoughts, “At least that would be more Barbie’s arena—she can sing.”

Rita just rolls her eyes and smiles knowingly. She squeezes me in a warm goodbye-hug and Gina quickly follows suit. Then I slip out and close the door behind me. I collapse against the door and try and catch my breath.

I lean there for what seems like hours, but is actually only a few seconds to let my heartrate come back down to normal.

I give what just happened a fleeting thought. That hug certainly wasn’t one from someone that was mocking me. I must have been reading too much into what I thought I was seeing, earlier. I sigh…

Paranoia. Isn’t that a sign of mental illness?

It’s a good thing I have a shrink—well, two, actually.

Finally, I wearily push myself off the door with my butt and walk away from the office—trying my best to leave my dark thoughts behind that door.

I’m only partially successful. That session was more than just a little terrifying.

---

 

 
I like really concentrate and put on a ‘happy’ mask as I walk out into the waiting room where I see Momma sitting there waiting for me.

Despite my best efforts to remain calm, I feel my breath catch in my throat and I squeeze my fists to get my emotions back under control. I feel my mask crumble into a million pieces.

So much for leaving everything back there!

What? I like know that’s exactly what they were telling me is my problem! Trying to squash my emotions…

Anyway, I walk over to Momma and give her an anxious and trembling hug.

She smiles worriedly at me and asks, “How was it? You look like you’ve been under a full-scale Dominion attack! I was going to let you drive, but I’m not sure you’re in the best condition for that?”

I ashamedly look down at the floor and numbly shake my head. I bite my trembling lip in a futile attempt to steady it.

What? I know she’s right. The last thing I like need to do right now is wreck the TT.

I hug her fiercely again and say with a catch in my voice, “I love you, Momma! We need to like talk, though. I’m so sorry!”

She gently pushes back from my hug and gives me a concerned look. Seeing my face, she quickly checks her watch with a shake of her wrist. She says with obvious confusion and concern, “It’s nearly eleven. We could go have an early lunch at Emerald Wednesday’s and still get you home in time to get ready for tonight. How does that sound?”

I hug her tight to me again to try and draw on her inner strength to steady my trembling, which is threatening to get out of control—she has always been so strong and I have no idea where she finds that grit. I fight to keep the sob from forming that is threatening to further betray my damned emotions and say in a shaky whisper, “That like sounds perfect, Momma.”

We hurry to the car. The ride down the elevator seems to take forever—with Momma giving me as many concerned looks as she gives me space to gather my wits.

She seems to instinctively sense what I need. How does she do that? It’s like with the panties—she just knew they were something that I…needed. Something that I needed to be me—to express who I really am.

I feel my breath catch as I feel another wave of shame engulf me. How could I be subconsciously blaming her for all of my issues?

We finally get to the car and Momma drives. Self-conscious and not knowing what to say—or do—I check my phone and see twelve texts from Jillie wanting to know how it went. I numbly text her back to let her know the session is over and that I will see her at two at home to get ready and I will fill her in, then. I finish the text with trembling fingers—I let her know that I need some alone-time with Momma.

I can’t help but smile at the ‘kiss’ emoji I get back in return—and a reminder that she has her monthly ‘date’ with her Daddy today, anyway.

Seventeen minutes later, Momma and I are seated at a table at the Emerald’s mall location. Jenna, our server, takes our order and…

What? Our order? Two half-salads and unsweet iced tea? What about it?

What? No, it’s not comfort food! What’s your point?

Deep breaths, Jacie! Just take deep breaths!

Anyway! Once Jenna leaves to fill our order, I fill Momma in on the ‘revelations’ of the session. Talking through them with her helps me process the confusion in my mind—at least like a little. Going through them with her outside of the confines of the medical building helps me put some perspective on things—sort of like a second opinion, I guess.

Of course, I thought that’s what the shrinks were supposed to be for. Helping me get over the confusion—not create more.

I have to fight the emotions that want to overtake me, especially when I get to the end, but I get through it, more or less with some semblance of decorum. At least I don’t make some emotional scene in the middle of the restaurant.

I finish with a shaky, “So, I’m like really sorry, Momma! I never meant to like blame you for any of this. Implied, or not—consciously, or subconsciously! I…I don’t have any excuses to give, though. I…I…’m still confused about all of this. I guess I really am a wreck!”

She reaches over the table and takes my hands into hers and squeezes them. She looks me squarely in the eyes and says, “There’s no need to apologize, James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander! I know you don’t really blame me for this. But, I’m glad it’s coming out who you do blame—which seems to be yourself.”

She pauses and takes a sip of her tea to let that sink in. Then she continues, “Well, don’t! Do you hear me? The fact that you’re transgendered is not your fault. And even if you’re not TG, then whatever this is still isn’t your fault! OK? Do you hear me, young lady? It’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s! It just…is what it is.”

I hurry after my eyes that have like made it almost into the kitchen…

What? Yeah, they seem to have now found a reliable way around the Borg technology, since this is the second time today. Or, on second thought, maybe this is Borg tech and they just beamed out to check on our food. Who knows?

Anyway, I contritely reply, “Yes, Momma. I hear you. That doesn’t mean my subconscious ‘self’ does, though. It’s been like running amuck today—I’m pretty sure it’s been like feeding my paranoia.”

Our conversation briefly pauses as Jenna refreshes our drinks and we resume talking after we each swallow a well-chewed nibble of our nearly-forgotten salads.

When she is gone I look at Momma and admit, “I don’t know, Momma. I mean, I like really don’t blame you… Not consciously, anyway. But, I guess I still don’t know deep-down that this is right. I like want to believe it is. On the surface, I do… But…that session today seems to like indicate that somewhere deep-down, I’m not so sure…”

Momma gives me a sympathetic look and says, “I know you’re confused, Hon. I have to trust that Rita and Gina know what they’re doing—and I think you do, too? Right?”

I sigh and nod as I stab another nibble of salad. She gives me a concerned look and seems to think it best to change the subject, for now. “So, how are the plans for Mitsi’s birthday coming along? Your Daddy has her car already prepped. She’s quite the lucky lady, getting an RS3. I know that she’s not otherwise spoiled, though. I think it’s a good fit—although, she’ll have to be very careful. That’s a powerful car. I’m not sure why a normal A3 wouldn’t have sufficed…”

I smile, actually grateful for the change in subject—and to a subject that’s not about tonight. “Well, I think she’ll be fine with it. She’s really responsible and when she turns eighteen she can turn it in and pick out whatever she wants. Not that she knows any of this—and I still have to keep it secret for another two weeks!”

I take another nibble and swallow. I think about how I had accused Rita of being smug earlier. That doesn’t jive at all with how she normally treats me—trusting me with a huge secret like this, for example. I must have just been taking things out of context. I mean they are the professionals—I’m just a screwed-up psycho…

I swallow another contrite nibble, then continue, “As for the party, Apollo and Aphrodite like have everything ready. Since it’s going to be a very large crowd, it will be held at ‘The Warehouse’. You know, that big event center that you can like rent out? Apollo is providing the food and Rita’s paying for the venue. Aphrodite is like doing all of the planning. But only Jillie and I know all the details outside of Rita, Apollo, and Aphrodite—not even the posse or the band know everything. It’s kind of weird that Rita trusts me with this…”

Momma shakes her head, “Rita trusts you and I don’t think that trust comes lightly. I know you had concerns about her and Gina today, but not all is always at it seems in the heat of battle. Like I said, I think we need to trust her. Anyway, speaking of Aphrodite—is she as nice as she seems? I mean, I haven’t met her, yet, but you and the band seem to talk her up quite a bit. I know she’s only been here for a couple of weeks…”

I nod and swallow my nibble as I contemplate my earlier impressions of Rita. I take a sip of tea to wash it down and decide to put those concerns on hold. I play with the salad on my plate and say, “Yes, she really is. She like fully transitioned five years ago—at eighteen. You know, SRS, and the whole shebang. She like started her ‘journey’, as she calls it, early and like never had to deal with the effects of male puberty. You can’t tell she wasn’t born a genetic woman—at least not as far as most people can see. I certainly can’t, anyway. I guess like a doctor could, maybe…”

Momma nods in understanding and asks, “So, I’ll meet her tonight?”

I drop my fork onto my plate with a clatter and run to get my eyes—they are busy checking out the boiling pot of soup in the kitchen.

What? I don’t know why! Maybe they have a thing about food safety? Or they want to steal the recipe?

Anyway, Momma giggles at the confused look on my face and explains as I contritely pick my fork back up, “Well, Rita got tickets to the party and Scott can’t make it. So, she asked me if I want to go…”

She seems to think a second, then asks in a worried tone, “That’s not a problem, right? I can call Rita and cancel…”

I shake my head vigorously and wish I could like create enough breeze doing so to cool down my burning eyes. Even the long fake eyelashes that Kate insists I wear don’t whip up enough wind when I vigorously bat them. I quickly reply, “Nope! Like, not at all!”

Momma smiles in obvious relief and then completely blows me away with her next question, “So, Rita and Gina asked me something funny and I’m not sure why. They wanted to know if I had a problem with you drinking coffee? Any ideas why that would come up? It was earlier in the week when we were talking about setting up your special session today and it seemed a bit odd...”

I give her a shocked look but repress the urge to hiccup as I shake my head. “No idea. They did offer me some during the session—and for some reason, it just sounded really good. I think I drank like three cups and it was like…delightful…”

Momma nods and says, “So, you’re developing a taste for it, are you? I wasn’t aware—I mean I know you have occasionally had a cup in the morning when you were tired, but I didn’t think you really liked it. I told them that, but I guess I was wrong. Anyway, would you like to go next door to ‘The Coffee Shop’ with me and get a cup to go? It sounds good to me, right now. And if you’re acquiring the taste…?”

I think about all of it that I like had drunk earlier and realize I don’t really have any desire for more. I blush and say, “I don’t know, Momma. It was really good for a bit, then I had my normal craving for Diet Pepsi and I sort of forgot about it.” I shrug at a complete loss of how to explain it.

She smiles and says, “But, I just love hot coffee on a cold day, don’t you?”

All of the sudden, the smell of the coffee coming from the nearby kitchen makes my mouth water and I nod, “I sure do, Momma. A cup of coffee sounds great!”

What? A girl can never have too much coffee!

Err… Right?

Momma seems a little shaken and shakes her head as she seems to be like mentally chewing really hard on something…

She quickly motions to Jenna for the check and pays the bill. Puzzled at my sudden desire, we go next door to get our wonderful cup of coffee.

---

 

 
I sip on steaming coffee—black as Darth Vader’s cape—on the way home and chew on what Momma and I had discussed. I’m still confused, but I feel a little better.

Maybe letting this emotional stuff out thing isn’t so bad, after-all.

Like, huh!

When we get home, I go straight up to my room to mentally prepare for tonight. That turns into mostly finishing my coffee and replaying the morning over and over in my head. I don’t really make any progress and finally give up after an hour. I decide to take a nice hot shower…

Half an hour after that, I get out of the shower and can’t help but think the steamy room is reminiscent of my foggy mind. I quickly wrap a towel around my ‘Borg’ boobs and step out into my room, a billow of steam following me…

What? My ‘boobs’ are certainly as fake as a Borg implant! Not likely as functional, though. Mine just are dead weight and good for nothing, other than filling out my bra… I wonder if they really were Borg implants if they would produce milk?

What? It’s like a legitimate question! Right? You mean you don’t wonder…?

Anyway, I wrap my wrung-out hair with another towel and put it all up in a turban to get it out of my way.

My brain still feels like it’s crammed full of cotton candy and I feel an odd mixture of being mentally drained from the session and physically wired from all the coffee. I also like still feel an odd controversy over actually liking the coffee, but can’t seem to like focus on thinking about it.

What? Focus on the controversy, I mean. I can certainly focus on the desire for coffee, though. As a matter of fact, a cup sounds really good…

Anyway, like I said, I’m wired, but exhausted—so I decide to maybe like try taking a quick nap and see if that will help clear my mind. I look at the clock and decide I still have time to take one before it’s time for Jillie to come over—barely. So it’s now or never.

What? Yeah, I could like really use her particular brand of therapy to relax me, right now.

What? No! I’m not giving you any details on what that would entail! I think we’ve like gone over that before! Pervert!

Anyway, I know I have to wait for any of that particular brand of magic, so I finish toweling my hair dry and put it into a quick braid while it’s still damp. It gives it a cute crinkle when I undo it after it dries that way.

I peek at my phone—I could text her and see if she could come over early. I sigh and wrap the hairband tight around the bottom of the braid as I shake my head. I know she’s still out on her monthly ‘date’ with her Daddy. I sigh and lay down on my bed and close my eyes—and try hard to relax.

I sigh again as I lay there and a gazillion thoughts tunnel through the cotton candy in my brain—all of them defying any attempt to fall asleep.

What? I’m tired! I really am! But, the coffee has those cotton candy pathways buzzing. It’s like there’s electricity racing down every fiber of it and my thoughts won’t settle down enough to let me rest.

My thoughts are so random, too. One path has me thinking about the boots that Jillie wants me to get; another has me thinking about my alter-ego pulling the Klingon mask off; another, about the fact that another cup of coffee sounds really good, right now…

And all of them are racing through my brain at once and crashing in on one-another with the force of atoms racing through a particle accelerator. I wonder if they will create dark matter and turn me into a meta?

I’m just about to give up on the nap attempt as totally futile when I drift off into a restless slumber. All the thoughts seem to crash together just then in one big bang and annihilate each other.

I finally settle into a deep enough sleep to dream and find myself back outside the school parking lot and the ‘Klingon’, once again, blocking my path to safety.

And, once again, in my dream state I don’t know it’s me. In a repeat performance, I’m completely paralyzed and can’t move.

What? You like know how it is in dreams, right? Something bad is going to happen to you and you like suddenly can’t move! Try as you might—whimper all you want—no dice!

Anyway, I stand there and can’t move. I can’t run away. I can’t run towards the ‘Klingon’ in any sort of futile attempt at bravado and attack it, either. I can only stand there and whimper as I watch the figure slowly and mockingly pulls off its mask…

And I, once again, see myself standing there, in all my unmasked Borg glory—grimacing at the paralyzed me.

I try and move my feet again, but they’re still firmly rooted to the ground.

What? The paralyzed me—not the Klingon one! I mean really? Did I like really have to explain that?

Anyway, I wonder if maybe I’m part Groot? I have actual roots going into the ground? Would Groot’s strength help me? Paralyzed me wants to shout at Klingon me, but I can’t get any words to come out. Not that, “I am Groot,” would likely be all that useful…

All I…err…paralyzed me…can do is whimper a pathetic and feeble nothingness and feel myself shake in terror—until I realize it’s Momma shaking me awake.

“…up, Hon! You’re having a nightmare! Plus, it’s time for you to get ready! Jillie will be here at any moment!”

I slowly open my eyes and reality like slowly sinks back in. It was just a dream—again!

I’m seriously beginning to hate dreams! Induced ones—or not. Plus, why did that particular scene play itself out again? I thought we had hashed through it all—the shrinks and I; more importantly, Momma and I…

I groggily look up at Momma and groan. She looks at me with concern and says, “Jillie is on her way over. Are you OK? Can you do this tonight? I guess that session wasn’t a great idea on the day of your biggest gig, yet.”

I want to retort, “You like think?”

I hold my retort and sigh. I know it’s not fair—just a remnant of my still terrified mind. I ask instead, “Jillie isn’t sick, right?”

What? I still can’t like totally separate everything I remember from the morning session from reality, right now. I acutely remember Jillie being sick and that was the reason Momma took me to school alone. Was she really sick—or was that just a part of the ‘dream’? Does that have something to do with me dreaming this again? But then why would I dream about my issues and not something about Jillie?

Momma gives me a funny look and shakes her head, “No, not as far as I know. Why do you ask?”

I sigh again. I guess I left that part of the story out at the restaurant. I explain, “Well, like some of the things in my session today just got things like totally muddled in my head—sort of a mixture of reality and…like dream or whatever that was that I experienced. In the ‘dream’, Jillie was sick—one of the reasons that you dropped me off alone at school in my dream. I was just like confirming that she’s OK. I was just dreaming about the ‘Klingon/Borg’ me again. I like really dislike dreams! I don’t get it, Momma. Something is not right with my brain!”

Momma hugs me tightly and says, “Well, Rita will be there tonight. I’m sure you can talk with her, if you need to. I don’t think there is a thing wrong with your brain—just how you are reacting to its thoughts. You’re not used to it giving in to its real identity. You’re still trying to figure out what—or who—that is. Give it time, Hon. Do you want to stay home tonight?”

I sigh again and shake my head—I need to let go of my paranoia from earlier. Thinking about that just conjures up more dark thoughts. I can’t help but giggle, though, as Jillie suddenly comes rushing into my room, unannounced, as usual, and gives me a cotton-candy-clearing, tonsil-cleaning, foot-popping kiss.

My heart starts racing in excitement—then settles into a warm, comforted state—although, still excited.

What? Like now that’s therapy!

What? I said ‘excited’—not ‘aroused’! And that’s none of your business, anyway! Even if I am a little aroused…

Anyway, Momma just shakes her head and giggles, too, “Well, it seems the real doctor is now in the house. I’ll leave you girls to it, then!”

Jillie breaks the kiss with a ‘smack’ and says a little contritely, “Hi, Cindy! Sorry, I like could just tell my Dollie needed a pick-me-up! Plus, the cryptic texts sent out an SOS to the stars!”

Momma sagely nods and I let out a contented sigh. Then I smile at Momma, “Speaking of pick-me-ups, how about we make a pot of coffee?”

What? I can’t help myself! A girl can never have too much coffee!

Err… Right?

Anyway, Momma sighs and Jillie gives me a really funny questioning look.

I just give them an exasperated look and retort, “What? It like just sounds good! Is there a problem with that? The cup from ‘The Coffee Shop’ has worn off and I need to be on my toes for tonight!”

Momma shakes her head and says, “And another coffee-monster is born. Sure, why not? Jillie, have you started drinking it, yet? Will your Momma let you? If you would even like some, that is.”

She shakes her head and says with a shrug, “Well, she doesn’t have anything against it, that I’m aware of. I am sixteen, after-all. But, I’ve never like really gotten into mainstream drinking it. I guess if like Jacie is suddenly so gung-ho about it, I can give it a try…?”

She shrugs again and Momma continues to shake her head as she leaves to go to the kitchen. The look on her face is strange, though. A mixture of consternation and pure befuddlement. Somehow, I’m not convinced the consternation is about me, though…

Baffled, I stand there—a swirling mix of frustration and confusion.

What? I don’t get what the big deal is. I also don’t get why I have these sudden urges for coffee… Is that Momma’s worry? Then, why does it seem that she’s not so much worried about me drinking the coffee, than me wanting the coffee? And ‘worried’ doesn’t seem to be the right word, either. Perplexed? Confused. Guilty…

I pinch myself—I’m being paranoid again!

Jillie turns around and interrupts my emotional reverie by giving me another cotton-candy-clearing, tonsil-cleaning, foot-popping kiss. When she breaks it with a ‘smack’, she looks me like deep in the eyes and asks, “How was the session? And what’s this about coffee?”

Suddenly, my musings about Momma’s emotions vanish and I spend the next hour telling her the whole sordid story while we get ready—and drink the whole pot of coffee that Momma brings up to us.

Of course, there are plenty of cotton-candy-clearing, tonsil-cleaning, foot-popping kisses sprinkled throughout to keep me going. Since is my second recounting, I am a little better at it, but I can tell that Jillie is like still as confused about the whole session as I am. Somehow, that makes me feel better. I thought it was just me that didn’t get it—it seems I’m like not alone in that universe, though…

I also decide to tell Rita and Gina that, while I am a nerd at heart, don’t have to have everything thrown at me in a ‘Star’ series speak. It’s starting to make me hate my favorite genre having it all linked to my psychotic issues…

What? They’re just going to have to deal and find a better way…

---

 

 
So… There is no kissing (or other stuff) and telling, but between getting ready and stepping out of the van at the Goddess, I certainly get a little ‘magic’ from Jillie.

I feel…good.

What? Not great. The butterflies in my stomach are having pink caterpillars and they are all tickling my throw-up button…

But, at least Klingons and other baddies are out of mind, for the moment. It’s all about the frightening night of high-powered disco that looms ahead.

I don’t even like totally really remember the ride over here—or all of us gathering on the stage. There are just like vague snippets of the ride. What vividly stands out the ones of cotton-candy-clearing, tonsil-cleaning, foot-popping kisses from Jillie. I know I stalled on answering a lot of questions from the posse, though. I will deal with those…later.

I take a deep breath and pull my entire focus into the reality of the moment. I smile as I look at everyone in the band totally decked out in disco garb. We all look like we just stepped straight out of the seventies! Then my smile weakens as the reality of what that means hits home again.

What? Yeah, I’m like still working on the whole not regressing into the negative thing…

Anyway, my smile returns as we finish setting up and I force myself to focus on the positive and push the negative thoughts aside—well, as best I can. All of Jillie’s therapy over the past few hours has like really done me wonders in boosting my positivity and I feel a lot better.

As I force my thoughts into a sort of positive-reinforcement loop, today’s session starts to become a dark and fading memory—at least for the moment—and I’m like actually looking forward to this tonight.

What? I like know, right? She really is the doctor!

Anyway, Aphrodite and Apollo come over as we finish setting up and ask us if we need anything before we start our first practice set.

I smile and give Aphrodite a sisterly hug.

What? Aphrodite? Yeah, she’s really nice. I’ll have to like catch you up on her later, though, K? We’ve talked a little and I know we need to talk more. She ‘gets’ me in ways that no one else I like know right now does.

What? No! Jillie and I are perfectly fine—but Jillie is not going through what Dite has…and I may be…

What? Yeah… I like started calling her ‘Dite’ (pronounced ‘Die-Tee’) as a term of endearment and now everyone else does, too.

Anyway, I ask Apollo, “Could I like have a cup of coffee? Black as Darth Vader’s cape?”

Jillie just gives me a look and shrugs in resignation. She looks at Apollo, “If you can’t like beat ‘em… Could I have one, too? Only, I like need cream and sugar—lots of cream and sugar!”

The others give both of us a strange look and then order a variety of sodas. Apollo just grins.

I just give them all a ‘look’ back.

What? I still don’t get their problem! I am not dwelling on this and a girl can’t have too much…

What? You’ve heard that already? What’s your point?

It’s like true!

Err… Right?

Anyway, Apollo brings us a whole big pot of coffee, lots of cream and sugar on the side, and a big tray of sodas—then we all get down to business…

Two hours of practice and two pots of coffee later, I feel good. Like, really good! Caffeine-buzzed, but good.

What? You wouldn’t be buzzed with that much coffee?

What? The restroom? Yeah, I have to go a bit more than usual… Your point?

Anyway, I like don’t feel too self-conscious about singing lead tonight. Somehow, we’ve all found a way to obsess less on the fact that we’re prepping for our biggest gig, yet—and, well just have fun.

What? I know it’s like weird, but I think Dite is largely responsible for putting us all at ease.

She’s hard to explain—at least for me. She just doesn’t seem to have a care in the world—and for someone like me, that’s inconceivable. Like, for example, she’s just been dancing around and singing along the whole time—and she really can’t sing. At all! I mean I’m a Goddess compared to her.

We all can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, though. I think that is what mostly what puts us at ease. The fact that she can just not give a sh… err, care about any of it and just let go. I mean Else has nothing on her with letting go!

Her nonchalance always pokes at my inner ‘me’, though. Why do I worry so much about what others think? Why do I worry so much about what I think others think? Why can’t I just be happy with myself like she can?

What? Putting others at ease? Like, even the others were like initially really nervous about tonight. I mean picture this: All the tables of this huge restaurant heave been removed and the place has been turned into a mini-disco. You know; disco balls and colored lights—the whole works. It’s epically retro—it’s also a huge gamble on Apollo’s part.

And he’s counting on us to deliver! Hence the nerves…

Basically, the way it all works is that those with tickets will be able to have three drinks—of any kind, as long as they are old enough—for ‘free’. Of course, that’s like just part of the ticket price. The ticket price also includes three appetizers or bar-type food. Anything more than that will have to be paid for at the cash bar.

The advance tickets sold out quickly and there will like be twice the crowd than during a normal ‘dining’ gig. Oh, and like another difference is it will be the same crowd all night long—not people coming and going as they finish eating. That’s like a whole different level of pressure—we have to entertain the same crowd for hours and not let them get bored with our performance.

So, yeah—this is like really different. And all of our nerves showed it when we got here. Oddly, though, I guess mine sort of got burned out in the session, because I felt less nervous than the others.

Anyway, we’re all feeling better. And I feel good—even great!

What? I already mentioned that? Well, it’s like such a different feeling to feel good—it’s been so long. So, maybe it like was a good thing to have the session, today. This is like taking my mind off the dark thoughts associated with it and somehow seems to be less intimidating in comparison.

Jillie and Dite have played their huge parts in my mood, though, and I have to find a way to thank them. Of course, that’s not hard with Jillie…

What? No! No details! Pervert!

Anyway, no matter how much I try and focus on the positive, I can’t like shake this nagging feeling that it’s like too good to be true. I like have this annoying intuition that it won’t last. There’s no doubt in my mind that the Klingons—not the ‘me’ ones—are still alive and kicking out there. And they want to kick me—or worse!

I like force myself to not dwell on the feeling, though, and take what peace I can—for as long as it wants to prevail.

I shove the dark thoughts into a corner of my mind and we finish our second practice set. When we’re done, we’re all like feeling pretty psyched. The songs are flowing easily and the last couple of week’s hard practice shows. Apollo is like certainly happy with our selected song list and things seem to be shaping up for a great night!

What? Positive thoughts! Like remember?

Oh! Speaking of! We’ll get a nice bonus out of it, too! We get a share of the ticket price—and a percentage of all extra sales—on top of our normal contract fare!

Anyway, when it’s clear that more practice won’t like make us any better, we all split up to rest up before the madness of the night descends on us. We have like forty minutes before the doors will open.

Jillie and I find a quiet corner and she gives me another cotton-candy-clearing, tonsil-cleaning, foot-popping kiss—then another. Then rinse and repeat. Well, you like get the idea, right?

What. No? Well, I’m sorry you’re so dense, then!

Anyway, as the clock ticks and her kisses keep coming, I feel my nerves and my resolve to remain positive start to fail me again. The only thing keeping me sane are Jillie’s kisses. There’s no talking between us—our mouths are too locked onto one another. There is a fair amount of panting, though.

I feel her kisses get more urgent as time goes on and know it’s a two-way-street. Somehow that like comforts me and I smile as I lean into the next flurry of kisses.

We break up our little session fifteen minutes before the doors are set to open and look deeply into each other’s eyes with a mutual sigh. There is one last ‘smack’ as we break one last kiss and I give her a squeeze, “OK, Love. Let’s go let Kate give us our last once over. I still can’t believe how hot you look in that makeup and outfit!”

She giggles and I can tell she’s like barely able to resist the temptation of another kiss, “Not half as hot as you, my little Disco Doll! Let’s go like give them the night of their lives, shall we?”

I give her a last squeeze and we lose the fight with temptation. One more foot-popping kiss and then we rush to the girl’s room where Kate deftly repairs our ‘make-out-makeup-damage’.

She shakes her head and says, “At least with the other girls, it’s just one per pair. You two are buy-one-get-one-free when it comes to repairs!”

Jillie and I just giggle and Kate proclaims us ready. Of course, we were the last ones in, so we all give each other a huge group-hug and high-fives after we’re cleared by her. Then we go out to meet up with the guys with like a minute to spare before the doors open.

Suddenly, my self-doubts start strengthening again. No matter how much I focus on positive thoughts, I still have no idea how I let them talk me into singing—let alone singing lead!

Jillie squeezes my hand and whispers in my ear, “You’re fine, Love! Go knock ‘em dead.”

I sigh and latch my safety tether to her rock-solid foundation. Although, like I said, even she’s a little nervous tonight.

Apollo looks at our little group and gives us a thumbs-up. Then he and Dite go over to the doors, unlock them, and start checking tickets as the throngs of people start filling the restaurant-turned-disco.

I feel my emotions—good and bad—use my stomach as a trampoline.

What? You know… They go up and down—doing backflips as they like bounce on my queasy stomach!

Anyway, I squeeze Jillie tightly in one last hug and we all follow Chris up on stage. The guys plug in and start playing a melody of several well-known disco songs as the lights start going wild with the music and bouncing off the disco-ball and spilt into a million swirling stars.

I dance around on-stage—completely mesmerized by the lights and the unending line of people coming in. I think I almost fall back into a hypnotic state until I’m brought back to reality when I notice Momma and Rita come in.

I shake my head to clear it and point them out to Mitsi and Jillie. I pull myself together and completely focus my attention on my tambourine and start ‘playing’ it—doing my best to ignore the mesmerizing lights.

I am starting to get myself back under control and hone in on those positive feelings. I smile at Jillie, who is rocking the triangle. Then I grin at Mitsi, who is shaking her maracas. Finally, I wink at Kate, Sara, and Barbs, who are just clapping their hands or snapping their fingers.

After about fifteen minutes, the line finally slows down and Apollo comes up on stage, leaving Dite to take the last of the tickets on her own.

Apollo motions for the guys to lower the music volume and takes a microphone from its stand. He shouts into it, “Good evening, Gods and Goddesses! Are you ready to party?”

I feel my emotions bounce on my stomach again. Suddenly, that ‘great’ feeling I had before turns on me and isn’t quite so ‘great’ anymore. The roar from the crowd is both encouraging and terrifying.

He continues, “P2SK is in the house and is going to fuel your Saturday Night Fever! Let’s party!”

He hands me the microphone and I take it with clammy hands.

Have you ever noticed that the Borg look like their hands would always be clammy—they’re always so gray and cold looking?

What? The whole Borg—not just their hands! Pay attention!

What? I’m procrastinating? Really?

Anyway, I fight the urge to wipe the sweat from my palms on my dress and listen to Fred count down the first song. I take a deep breath and start singing ‘Night Fever’, right on cue, and the disco lights once again go wild as the disco ball starts rotating and scattering the colors across the floor, walls, ceiling, and gyrating dancers.

I concentrate hard on the words and my singing and do my best to ignore the lights.

What? The last thing I need is fall into another hypnotic sleep while I’m up here singing!

Somehow, the lights become soothing to me as I finish the first song and my nerves settle some. After that, I find my positive loop again and fall into a rhythm. I actually start having some fun again—and the band as a whole seems to feed off that.

Mindful of focusing on my singing, I can’t help but wonder how I can be the one that is driving the band’s mood. They like certainly picked a poor leader when it comes to that! But it further forces me to focus on my positive side—the band and Apollo now all seem to be counting on me.

Like just great!

Anyway, the crowd is like awesome and help me stay positive. They sing along at times and dance non-stop like crazy.

I start to get that ‘great’ feeling again as I start having more fun, which fuels the band’s mood, which fuels the crowds, which fuels me…

What? That’s like one of those positive feedback loops I was talking about!

Anyway, I still have that nagging feeling that is trying to bring me down from my high and I fight it tooth and nail.

What? What feeling? The one that I will somehow have to pay for feeling good.

I’m mostly successful at suppressing ‘the feeling’—mostly thanks to that above-mention loop and we’re well into the second set when I notice Apollo frantically running around. I’m in the middle of ‘Boogie Wonderland’ and that feeling that I owe the galaxy a huge debt for that earlier good feeling forces itself to the surface with a vengeance and gets like really strong.

I still don’t know why Apollo is so frantic, but something is clearly wrong. Then I notice that Dite is not by her post at the door, nor is anyone else.

That feeling that payback is going to be a bitch becomes all-consuming and completely overpowering. I actually feel a little faint and more than a little sick to my stomach.

Then, all Hell breaks loose…

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As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

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Jacie went to extreme lengths to help a pretty girl struggling with her past. The result was an unexpected twist of fate.

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Battle of the Bangs

Copyright © 2018 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
All image originals sourced from Creative Commons.
All movie-related references made in this novel are trademarked by Paramount Pictures, Disney, Universal Pictures, or Marvel. All other characters are completely fictitious and any similarities with actual persons are purely coincidental.

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Author’s Note:

Now that hopefully the confusion from the first three parts has been lifted in Part Four, it’s time to move the story forward.

So, without further ado, Part Five…

Thanks for everyone’s support!

HUGS!
Shauna

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Part Five
I look at Jillie and the rest of my bandmates in concern as the fire alarm loudly sounds at the same time thick black smoke starts pouring from the kitchen and the sprinklers start spraying the crowd with cold showers of water.

The water hits the sound system and sends sparks flying before the circuit breakers cut the power to the equipment—and the lights. We are suddenly plunged into a frightening, loud, cold, wet, choking darkness

It takes a few seconds for the emergency lights to cut in. When they finally do come on, they reveal a terrifying scene: A full-on panic in the restaurant. People are rushing towards the front entrance to escape the acrid smoke and unending water without a lot of regard for anyone else’s wellbeing.

There are also people storming the stage, since the front entrance is effectively clogged with the fleeing mob and there is an emergency exit behind the stage.

Jillie frantically grabs at my hand, but we are quickly separated as the mob takes over the stage like a huge swarm of ants frantically overtaking some enemy invader in their hill…

What? Do ants ‘swarm’? Are you like seriously asking me that right now?

Anyway, Jillie’s desperate attempt at a hold on my hand is broken as the seething horde pushes its way towards the exit in the back—pushing Jillie out front and with it towards the door and me to the inside and towards the restrooms.

The emergency lights are dimmer in this area of the restaurant because of the thick smoke still pouring from the kitchen. I frantically look around to see if I can see Apollo or Dite—or Momma and Rita. I don’t see anyone that I recognize, at this point.

I’m soaked to the skin and shivering, but I’m not sure if the shivering is because I’m cold…

What? Of course, I am! That’s a stupid question!

What? I hurt your feelings? O!M!G! Like, bite me!

Anyway, I’m not sure if I’m shivering because I’m cold or because of nerves.

What? Of course, it could be both! Are you seriously asking me these stupid-a…, ummm, dumb questions right now?

So, anyway, I don’t see any of my peeps—or Momma or Rita. I decide it’s best to find my way outside and then find the others out there. I’m just worried about going out there in the skimpy dress I have on, soaked as I am, and the temperature certainly below freezing…

I start choking as the thick smoke fills the room enough to make it down to my level. My throat is instantly on fire and I know that frostbite is less of an issue than dying of chemical exposure. So, I turn back towards the exit and start to fight my way towards it. The restaurant is largely empty now, so the crowd shouldn’t be an issue…

I don’t even get the chance to take one step as I feel a strong arm surround me from behind—and a damp cloth cover my face.

I relax, since I assume it’s a fireman putting something over my face to keep the smoke out. I start to give a thumbs-up, but can’t seem to lift my hand.

Then everything goes black…

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I whimper… I can’t move and the Klingon is staring me down. Suddenly, it makes a surprise move and starts to take off it’s mask…

Wait! I know this story… It’s like just me, right? I start to relax…

Then, suddenly, the very real Klingon rushes me and starts pounding my head against the floor—over and over and over again. Harder and harder and harder. I know my skull is certainly about to split open!

I feel his hands pushing down on me—gripping my arms…

And…my eyes open…

I have trouble focusing. There are like several reasons for that. One, I have the killer-headache-to-end-all-killer-headaches. Second, something much worse than pink cotton candy has taken over my brain and it’s foggier than it ever has been. Third, it’s like quite dim wherever I am…

Then I hear a familiar voice, full of concern…

What? Ok, ok! Make that where ‘we’ are… Happy? You really need to get your priorities straight! You’re really worried about that, right now?

I groan and try and sit up. I feel a weight push me down and hear Dite say, “Jacie, slow down. You were knocked out with the same stuff I was. I think it was chloroform—or, at least something like it. Maybe ether with the headache I have…”

I groan again. My throat feels like someone poured acid down it and my lungs feel like they’re on fire. I already like mentioned my headache… Like right?

My eyes try and focus and I see a blurry Dite hovering over me—still pressing down on my arms and holding me down.

I croak, “What…? Where…? What happened?! Where are we?”

She shakes her head. At least I think she does—I still can’t see her clearly. She says, “I don’t know. I was standing at the door taking tickets. There was a lull in the line and the next thing I know, someone is pressing a cloth over my face. I woke up here—with you beside me. I just assumed that whoever took me did the same to you…”

I feel a panic attack coming on and struggle to sit up and croak, “Let me sit up, Dite. I like need to sit up!”

She gently helps me sit up and I pay for it with another nauseating round of migraine pain. I wait for the world—well, what I can see of it—to quit spinning and look at the blur that I’m pretty sure is Dite. “Then you don’t know anything about the fire?”

My vision must be clearing up, because Dite is becoming a little clearer—and, along with that, the obvious confusion and concern on her face as she asks, “Fire? What fire?”

I sigh and try and look around the gloomy surroundings. It seems we are like in some sort of long, narrow padded room and there are crates tightly stacked at one end. It’s neither hot, nor cold. There is a small light on the opposite end of the room from where the crates are stacked—it’s barely giving off any light and is flickering, like it’s running on a battery that is slowly going dead. There is no door visible—I assume it’s on the other side of the crates.

My brain is like still not capable of fully processing all of this and I shrug as I look back at Dite and try and focus on what had happened. “Apollo was like frantically looking around the restaurant. I assume it was for you—only I like had no idea at the time that you were missing. Then, all of the sudden, this black smoke started like pouring out of the kitchen and the fire alarm went off. There was like a mad rush of people like trying to get out and the smoke and sprinklers were like making a mess. I…I…I…somehow like got separated from Jillie and like pushed back to the restrooms where the smoke was like thicker. Then I like felt a strong arm like holding me. I like thought it was a fireman, but…the next thing I know is you’re like holding me down in this…wherever we are.”

I move my leg and notice the metal shackle around my ankle for the first time. There is like a short metal chain that goes through a thick metal ring in the floor and then to a shackle around Dite’s ankle.

Suddenly, the chill like really settles into my bones.

What? No, not from the ambient air temperature—like, from the reality that we have been kidnapped and are being held prisoner in some sort of padded room!

I look at Dite with the fear obvious in my eyes. She bites her lower lip and shrugs—obviously terrified, herself.

I crawl over to the side of the room—I can barely reach it with the chain holding me back—and try and pound on wall, but the padding is strong and thick. Dite says, “I’ve already tried calling for help. These pads must soundproof this room very well. I doubt people would hear us even if they were just outside these walls.”

I feel the now familiar signs of a panic attack coming on as my still cotton candy-stuffed brain like goes into overdrive with absurd thoughts.

What? What kind? Well, like that we’re being held on a Klingon ship in the cargo hold and it’s air-tight and we’re going to…

“Air! Dite—is this thing air-tight? I mean I like don’t see any light coming in! Is there any air?”

She visibly pales—even in the dim light—and shakes her head, “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about that. But, if they were going to kill us, why do it that way?”

I feel the darkness start to descend on me as I float out the hatch without a space suit. My tether just broke.

What? I hadn’t even thought about someone wanting to kill us! I mean aside from the Klingon in my dreams, of course.

I feel Dite’s hand clamp down on mine—hard. Her long nails dig into my skin and the pain pulls me back into the ship—err, stops my descent into passing out. She says, “Stay with me, Jacie! We’re going to be alright. Like I said, if they wanted to hurt us, they would have by now. I just have no idea what it is they do want. I think it must have something to do with the threats Uncle Apollo has been receiving.”

I look at her in alarm as I rub the deep indentions her nails like made in my hands.

What? No. They aren’t bleeding!

Anyway, I blurt out, “Threats?”

She nods, “Mmmm-hmmm. About us, actually.”

I blink. I blink again. I blink, once more. “Us? What do you mean ‘us’?”

She shakes her head, “He wouldn’t say much. What I know is that he—well, the restaurant—was getting threats about supporting LGBT rights and having me work there—and contracting with PS2K, since you are in the band.”

I feel faint again.

What? No, this time I’m like pissed!

“And he didn’t think that was important enough to let us know about? Well, I guess I should say ‘me’, since you obviously did!” I don’t mean to take it out on Dite, but her uncle is not there for me to scream at, at the moment.

She takes my hand and shakes her head, “He went to the police and they told him that it’s not uncommon to get threats like that, but that there have never been any hate-related crimes—at least not LGBT-related ones—in our area. It was their advice to keep it quiet while they investigate. I’m sorry, Jacie—neither one of us meant for this to happen.”

I sigh as reason like sets in—well, maybe more reason—I’m still pissed. But, obviously Dite is in the same mess as me and I doubt that like either she or Apollo wanted that.

I sigh again, “OK, so what have they like found out? Do you think maybe enough to get us out of this mess?”

Dite shrugs and says, “I am not going to lie to you, anymore, Jacie—not that I really intended to lie to you before. I don’t know. They dealt with my uncle. He knows people from old Greece…and if anyone can get us out of this, it is him. Well, them…”

We move around and try to get comfortable. The best way we find is to like sit back to back and lean back on each other. The chain doesn’t allow much more than that—or lying down.

We sit brooding in silence for a bit, then I like can’t take the gloomy atmosphere, anymore. I need to like do something—or I know I will go crazy. Well, crazier than I already am.

What? I like already need two shrinks!

Anyway, I lean my head back on hers and ask, “So, Dite, what was it like being TG in Greece? I don’t know much about your country, but like conventional wisdom here in the States is that the country is pretty conservative.”

I feel her head shake and her shoulders shrug against mine. “I was lucky—I was in a very progressive area. I think it is like anywhere—there are areas that are enlightened in Greece and areas that are not. I don’t think that my experience would have been any different than yours if you had started your journey at age five, like I did. I actually knew as far back as I can remember—I just got up the courage to act on that knowledge when I was five. I had had enough of people treating me like a boy.”

I nod my head as thoughts like fly through the cotton candy fibers in my brain.

What? You know—like all sorts of ‘what-if’ scenarios.

Before they can take off and explode my brain, Dite breaks into the thoughts, “So, Jacie, I never got your full story. You knew early on, too—but then were bullied?”

I sigh and nod. I know she can feel it, since our heads are still supporting each other’s.

I take a deep breath and give her the Cliff Notes version of my ‘panty’ story.

Somewhere in the middle of the story, she like twists around and gives me a big hug. I can feel her tears drip on me as I finish my story.

She had like remained completely silent during my recounting of the story—something that I am becoming well practiced in, by now. When I’m like done, though, she exclaims, “Oh, Jacie! I am so sorry! I knew you had faced difficulties, but I had no idea. Kids can be so mean!”

She squeezes me again and we settle back into our back-to-back lounging position.

She sighs, “Like I said, I was lucky. I grew up in an area that was more tolerant of my condition. We still took a lot of precautions. When my parents figured out what my problem was when I was five, we moved to that area and ‘Aleksy’ ceased to exist—‘Aphrodite’ emerged and has never been forced back into Aleksy’s false existence, since.”

I sigh—those what-ifs start playing in part of the cotton candy fibers in my head again, while the other part like continues to pay attention to Dite’s story.

She swallows—trying to draw moisture into her mouth. When she continues, it’s like clear that she is as thirsty as I am. A cup of coffee sure would be great right now! That like starts a third concurrent thought pattern tracking down the pink fibers in my head.

Dite takes control of the dominant thought thread, “My parents never treated me like a boy again after that. No one else knew that I was born a biological boy, so everyone treated me like the girl that I am. Well, except for some family members. Even Uncle Apollo was distant, at first. But, after he figured out that this was the real me, he warmed up to me and became a staunch advocate of LGBT rights.”

She tries to draw more moisture into her mouth and continues on with a cracked voice, “I got on blockers and hormones as soon as my doctor would allow them and had my surgery at eighteen. I have never once regretted it—I have never had even one second thought.”

I sigh. I wish I could like say that. “That’s awesome how it worked out for you, Dite. I can’t say that I’m not having second thoughts! My shr…err, psychiatrists are telling me that’s likely mostly due to my bullying at my ‘awakening’, so to speak. But, there are no guarantees that’s like what is causing my doubts—nor that even if that is the cause and the bullying hadn’t happened, if I wouldn’t have grown out of it.”

I giggle, suddenly giddy, “If only I could take the Enterprise and slingshot around the sun to go back in time and stop that from happening…”

Dite giggles, too, “Well, you know what happened when McCoy messed with time…”

I am about to like blurt out something profound about her even knowing about that, when there is a sudden lurch that throws us off balance and…we’re moving!

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We both let out a shriek as the world moves under us. It takes a second to like realize it’s not an earthquake, but that we’re in some sort of container—likely hooked onto the back of a truck.

We help each other sit up, only to be thrown over again as the vehicle makes a turn and then goes over several huge bumps—like throwing us around again. After several minutes of gathering a huge collection of bruises, it like smooths out-with only the vibration of the floor a clear indication that we’re moving.

We realize that we’re moving at what seems to be at a fast pace, if the initial acceleration that slid us back towards the crates is any indication. We also know that we’re moving on a smooth, fairly straight surface—like a highway or interstate.

That’s like bad enough that we’re being hauled off somewhere unknown. But we also realize that the air is getting thin. The giddiness from a few minutes ago is turning into our small, labored gasps for air!

I look at Dite and it’s clear she knows it, too. Neither of us says anything in the desperate, but clearly vain attempt to save what little oxygen is left in the container that’s clearly air-tight. I shake my head at the fact that like my weird Klingon thoughts from earlier were spot-on when it came to the crux of our problem.

What? No, there isn’t a Klingon! Really?

What? No! We’re not in a cargo hold on a Klingon ship! But we are in an air-tight container.

And we’re like running out of air.

Suddenly, we start choking as exhaust fumes come in through a vent that opens in the ceiling—followed by fresh air!

We take in gulps of the cold, brisk air that floods in and give each other a huge hug. The vent also lets daylight in—it seems to be like morning light. So, it’s been like at least six or more hours since the fire.

The vent closes and shuts out the fresh airflow—as well as the sunlight. We’re left with a new, but self-contained supply of air and the flickering little light in what is now clearly the front of the container.

Suddenly, I feel myself shaking—just craving that little view of freedom the open vent offered. Closing it off like just seemed to send the message that our situation is hopeless.

Dite like seems to sense my despair and says, “At least we know they don’t intend to kill us. As long as we are alive, there is hope, right?”

I shake my head and twist around to give her a hug. I fight back tears that seem to want to form—but it seems like even that little act is too much effort.

I realize like just how thirsty I am—and hungry.

I croak, my throat becoming more parched, “I thought that light coming through the vent was morning light, but I think it may have been evening light. We may have been knocked out longer than we like thought. I’m really hungry—but, worse, I’m thirsty. I wonder if whatever they used to knock us out with just like made that worse?”

Dite shrugs and nods, “I think you may be right. If so, we’ve been gone for around eighteen hours, give or take, now. If they were laying low during the day, then they would have had about six hours to get wherever it is they got to. If they drive all night, tonight, we would be hundreds of kilometers—maybe over a thousand—away from home!”

I feel a shiver run through my body and realize it’s not only because of the terror that statement like caused me…

What? You wouldn’t be terrified at being dragged hundreds of miles away from home, against your will, and with no idea where—or why? Really?

Anyway, I realize the temperature is like quickly dropping. Dite and I are both still dressed in our disco outfits—and they are not designed for warmth!

What? Our makeup? Like, O!M!G! Did you like really ask me that? Of course, it’s ruined! Like, really?

Anyway, I blurt out, “Like O!M!G!!! First they like try to suffocate us. They’re trying to starve us. Now, they’re like trying to freeze us!”

A crackly voice comes over an intercom that I hadn’t noticed before and I jump. It seems that Dite like hadn’t noticed it either judging by her equally high jump—and her shriek.

“Shut up youze two perverts. If it werz up to me, I would let you suffocate, starve and freeze—as long as it ended yourze miserable existence. Unfortunately, thatz not what I’m being paid to dooz.”

The front of one of the crates drops and reveals several bottles of water, a package of jerky, and a single blanket.

“Youze two perverts can get naked too-gedder and share the blanket. Itz going to getz a lot colder!”

The intercom shuts off and the maniacal laughter cuts out with it as we each grab a bottle of water and greedily drain it of its life-giving contents.

I look at the intercom, shudder again, and give Dite a scared look—which she like returns in spades.

We don’t say anything else, since it’s clear that the pervert driving us is listening in. It’s like clear, he’s a maniac and we don’t like want to give him any reasons to go off whatever contract it is he has and kill us.

But the cold is rapidly increasing and we realize that a refrigeration unit has been turned on! Dite whispers in my ear, “He was right, we need to get naked and under the blanket together to stay warm. I don’t trust the food or water, but we need something…”

I slowly nod and she quickly starts undressing. She must like notice my hesitation and turns to look at me, “Look Jacie, it is just us two girls. You don’t have anything that I haven’t seen—or had. And even if that were not the case, I am not sensitive about naked bodies. I go to the nude beaches in Greece all of the time!”

I shiver and blow out the air in my lungs, watching it form ‘smoke’, as we used to call it as young kids. I sigh and decide to get over my self-consciousness.

What? Other than my mother, Jillie is the only other girl that has seen me naked. And they’re like both very special cases!

I hesitate another second, then unzip my dress, since Dite is already fully in the nude, except for her panties that she would have to literally rip off because of the shackle on her ankle. She is pulling the blanket over herself and has the remaining bottles of water and the bag of jerky next to her.

I pull the dress over my head and undo my bra and let it drop, displaying my Borg boobs that are getting very cold. Unlike Dite’s nipples that are erect because of the cold, mine are like just in their ‘default’ position, which is oddly-enough erect—permanent ‘headlights’, as Jillie likes to joke about them.

I join Dite under the blanket and we move around so that we are laying side by side, the only way to get the blanket over us, chained as we are. We tuck it in under us, to counter the cold of the floor as best we can and I feel her warm, soft body next to mine.

I force myself to remember that this is not Jillie next to me—and squelch the fact that a real part of me wants to get erect. That, of course, starts a whole new round of self-incriminations. How can my body betray me—betray Jillie—like that?

What? I’m not like interested in Dite that way!

What? I’m not!

I mean…right? Just because she is a wonderfully beautiful and funny woman…

Dite smiles and opens a bottle of water and hands it to me. I greedily drink from it and take a handful of the jerky out of the bag that she has also opened.

We are both quiet for several minutes as we chew on the jerky and drink more water.

Then I suddenly can’t hold onto my bottle.

I drop it and things fade to black again…

---

 

 
The first thing that I like realize is that I’m in a heavenly soft—and warm—bed.

The next thing I realize is that I’m in that bed alone.

The next thing I realize is that I’m like not alone.

My eyes snap open and I see Momma and Jillie sitting in chairs on either side of the bed. Both are asleep.

I’m in a hospital room of some sort. I’m not hooked up to anything except one of those like annoying finger-clip thingies that monitor your pulse.

What? You know the ones I’m talking about, right? They clip onto the end of your finger and just bug the begeebers out of you!

Anyway, once again, I’m completely lost.

The last thing I like remember is laying next to Dite and drinking some water in the back of a big rig…

I gasp. Dite!

I look around—she’s not in this room, anyway.

My gasp wakes both Momma and Jillie, who both rush over and smother me in a huge hug!

After I can breathe again…

What? They were smothering me!

What? No! I didn’t mind!

Anyway, when I can breathe again, I ask the very astute question that is on everyone’s mind, “What the Hell happened? Where am I? How long has it been? Who did this? Oh, and what the HELL?”

What? That’s like more than one question? So, like sue me!

Anyway, Momma and Jillie drag their chairs over and Momma pushes the nurse call button.

The nurse appears almost immediately and sees that I’m awake. She fusses over me, taking my vitals and stuff, then Momma asks, “Jacie, Hon, do you want a Diet, or some water? We can get you some food, too, I’m sure.”

I nod my head and say, “Could I have a cup of coffee to start? It just sounds really good.”

Momma looks perplexed and says, “Well, we can get ice in the Diet Pepsi. I can’t stand hot Pepsi!”

I give her a funny look.

What? I have no idea what she’s babbling on about!

Anyway, I shake my head, “No, I can’t stand it, either, but I would really like a cup of coffee, right now.”

Momma shakes her head, like the world suddenly doesn’t make sense anymore. I like certainly know how she feels!

The nurse says she will get me a cup of coffee and have some food brought up. Then she leaves.

Momma, still looking like the cat ate her canary, says, “Your Daddy will be here as soon as he can. He was on that business trip in Germany and had problems with the weather getting home.”

I nod and fairly burst out, “Momma! Where is ‘here’?”

Jillie squeezes my hand and says, “We’re in a small town in southwest Texas—not very far from the Mexican border.”

Momma nods, “That is where that bastard was taking you and Aphrodite—to Mexico. I guess you were to become TG porn stars. They would have hooked you on drugs and forced you to do their bidding. And before you ask, we don’t really know why—or who was behind it. The FBI is in on it, since it was a kidnapping across state borders and they are sure that the guy that had you was just a contract hire.”

I nod and say, “He told Dite and me as much. Is she OK? Dite, I mean? We…we…we thought we were going to die!”

Momma hugs me and Jillie squeezes my hand. Momma says, “She is fine. She was just drugged into unconsciousness, like you. The doctors thought it best to just let you sleep it off. You have been here in the hospital for several hours—you’ve likely been out for twenty-four, or more. The doctors said it was a heavy dose. The FBI thinks it was to keep you quiet while you were smuggled across the border. Normally, there isn’t much scrutiny going in to Mexico, but…”

She shrugs.

I nod and Jillie picks up the story, “It’s been three days since you were taken and we had all about died of despair, since no one had a clue of what was going on.”

Momma nods, “Apollo let the cat out of the bag that he had been threatened—well, the restaurant. Of course, we were all furious with him—until the police let us know that they were the ones that advised him to keep it quiet. Then we were furious with the police. We’ll deal with all of that later. Anyway, Apollo knows some…people. I’m not sure, but I think they are Greek Mafia, or something. They are the ones that tracked you down and tipped the FBI off, who raided the truck at the border crossing. A few minutes later and it would have become an international incident.”

She shudders.

The nurse comes in with my coffee and I politely refuse the cream or sugar and blow on the steaming cup of stuff from the nurse’s lounge and not the cafeteria. The nurse was clear on that—I’m getting the good stuff; and in a ceramic mug, too.

She leaves us alone as I take a grateful sip and Momma seems like she’s going to explode. I just look at her and ask, “What? It’s like just coffee!”

What? I don’t like get what the big deal is!

Momma sighs and says, “Well, this is a sidetrack, but one we need to go down. I have to really apologize to you, Jacie. When you were hypnotized by Rita and Gina, they set a post-hypnotic trigger in you to crave coffee if the correct phrase was said. They triggered it in your session as proof that the hypnosis was actually effective. At my insistence, they gave me the trigger phrase, because I had to know for myself… I triggered it in you—but then I forgot the reversal phrase! I got it from Rita at the Disco party and was going to free you of the compulsion at your next break… But then all of…this…happened.”

She shakes her head, “Rita was pretty sure that if you heard it—even while unconscious—that it would take effect. But you still wanted coffee when you woke up even though I whispered it to you earlier—so I just repeated it and you still want it!”

Suddenly, a huge block of worry drops from my shoulders as at least one thing makes sense! I grin at Momma and say, “So, that’s what that ‘hot Pepsi’ crap was about? I remember Rita saying that at the end of the session, too. I will have to have a word with them about forcing me to do things, though. That doesn’t give me a huge sense of trust.”

The pointed look I give Momma conveys the same point.

She hangs her head and says, “I know, Love. I’m ashamed of myself—and Rita and Gina were going to tell you. It’s my fault that they postponed that. I have no excuse—other than I was—am—worried about you and wanted incontrovertible proof that the hypnosis was effective.”

I nod.

What? Yes, I’m like totally irritated—but, I’m not like pissed. I sort of get it.

I think.

Anyway, I look at Momma and pointedly take a sip of coffee…

What? I guess all of it I drank while under the post-hypnotic compulsion made me actually develop a taste for it!

Anyway, I say, “OK, we can all have a group session on that one—later. What’s like the next step in finding out who really did this? I mean I like have some ideas…”

Jillie nods emphatically, “Like Greg & Co., or Hailey and her Dad…”

Momma shakes her head and is about to say something, when she’s cut off by a knock on the doorframe and a huge guy in a dark suit comes in. He nods and says, “Good evening, Ms. Alexander, I’m Special Agent Zachary Bender with the FBI. Are you up to talking for a bit while things are still fresh in your mind?”

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

---

Jacie went to extreme lengths to help a pretty girl struggling with her past. The result was an unexpected twist of fate.

---

 

Battle of the Bangs

Copyright © 2018 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
All image originals sourced from Creative Commons.
All movie-related references made in this novel are trademarked by Paramount Pictures, Disney, Universal Pictures, or Marvel. All other characters are completely fictitious and any similarities with actual persons are purely coincidental.

 

 
Part Six

I look at the good-looking young man in the well-cut, dark suit smiling at me.

What? Can I like help it if he looks good?

Anyway, I don’t really know that much about Special Agents in the FBI, but this guy like seems awfully young to be one! He has an olive-toned complexion, but like looks different than Apollo and Dite. I decide he must like be of Italian descent. His suit is perfect—another thing that doesn’t like jive with my vision of ‘FBI’—it’s like a million-dollar Italian suit.

I realize that I haven’t answered his question because of my musings and he just like keeps patiently standing at the door with a smile on his face.

I nod and he comes into the room. Momma gets up and motions for Jillie to follow her. She says, “Please be gentle with my daughter, Mr. Bender. She’s been through a lot. Jillie and I are going to the cafeteria for a pick-me-up. They’re bringing Jacie some food, too. I assume you won’t hinder her from consuming it?”

He smiles brightly, “No worries, Ms. Alexander. I’ll take special care with your daughter—and, no, she needs to eat. I would never stop her from doing so. I won’t even mind if she talks with her mouth full!”

I look at Jillie and roll my eyes.

What? It’s like I’m not right here in a bed in like the same room with them.

I can tell Jillie is suppressing a giggle as she turns to leave. I’m still not in a giggling mood, though. The fact that there is like an FBI special agent in the room with me is a stark reminder of why I’m in here, in the first place. I can’t shake the feeling that something is…off, though.

When Momma and Jillie have left, he looks at me and points to the chair Momma had been sitting in, “Do you mind if I have a seat, Ms. Alexander?”

I simply shake my head, still trying to like figure out what I can say to him—tell him to help figure this whole mess out. And still wondering why my non-existent Spidey-sense is ringing a five-alarm bell.

He takes a seat and pulls a small recording device from his pocket. He turns it on and says, “Interview number one with James Tiberius Amanda Christine Alexander, also known as Jacie. OK, now Ms. Alexander, do you mind if I record this session?”

I look at him blankly.

What? He just like used my full name that way—well, it’s not really even my full name anymore, since, legally I’m just plain-Jane Amanda Christine, now. But…how does he know…?

He just sits there and the pregnant pause is like being recorded as absolute silence on the recorder. Finally, completely frustrated with my lack of intuition, I nod.

He smiles and says, “OK, Ms. Alexander, this isn’t a tricorder, so it can’t pick up the fact that you’re nodding. Can you please verbally acknowledge that you’re OK with the recording?”

My eyes are like still too tired to escape—that doesn’t stop them from bulging, though.

What? You didn’t like catch the tricorder reference?

I sigh, “Yes, Special Agent Zac Bender, I Jacie Alexander am OK with you recording this session.”

He smiles again. I think it’s to disarm me. I mean it looks genuine enough, but it’s beginning to creep me out a bit. It’s just like slightly…off…

What? I mean he’s smiling like too much! And knowing enough about me to reference a tricorder? I mean he can’t just be a huge Star Trek fan, too.

Err…like right?

Anyway, he nods and says, “OK, then. Let’s get started. First, do you mind if I call you Jacie?”

I shake my head, then sigh, knowing what he is about to say. “No, Special Agent Zac Bender, I like don’t mind if you call me Jacie.”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. I’m not sure why—I didn’t intend for it to be funny.

He winks and says, “OK, then, Jacie. Why don’t you just call me Zac?”

I give him a slight double-take, but then nod, “OK,…Zac…”

What? Like I said before, I’m like slowly getting immune to the effects of adults asking me to call them by their first names. Even Momma doesn’t have the proverbial cow, anymore, when I do.

He grins. I feel a little creeped out, again.

Is he like hitting on me? Could that like be it? I don’t like have any idea what it’s like to be hit on by a guy… Especially, not like one twice as old as me!

Before I can like ponder that any deeper, there is a brief knock on the door and a Hispanic-looking lady in white scrubs wheels a cart in with a tray on it that is covered with a metal lid. She says in a strong Hispanic accent, “Ms. Alexander, I have some food for you. My orders were to make it light, so I hope you like egg drop soup and crackers. If you eat all of this, you may have pudding or ice cream for dessert. Your regular meal will be at five, anyway.”

She takes the lid off of the tray and my nose is hit with the heavenly smell of a strong chicken broth laced with garlic and onions. I take in an appreciative deep lungful of the smell and notice the little whisps of egg floating in the broth like white cotton candy.

What? I like know, right? I told you I have cotton candy in…errr…on the brain!

Ignoring Special Agent Zac Bender for the moment, I pick up the soup spoon and dip it into the broth and stir. Then I take a spoonful out of the bowl and blow on it. Knowing it’s like still too hot, I stick it my mouth anyway and wince as I nearly scald my tongue.

I let out a moan—partly in pain and partly in pleasure. I say, “This is good, …?”

She smiles and says, “Thank you, Ms. Alexander. My name is Manuela.”

I take another spoonful and stick it in my mouth. It burns my throat on the way down, but it like tastes so good, though!

I completely ignore Zac while I finish my soup and crackers. Manuela is simply standing there while I eat with a smile on her face. When I’m done, Manuela asks, “Pudding or ice cream?”

I smile, “Do you like have chocolate of either?”

She nods and says, “Sure we do! Both!”

I grin, “Ice cream it is, then!”

She nods gravely, like it was a serious choice, and says, “I will be right back!” She looks at me, then at Zac, as she picks up my tray and returns it to her cart. She seems to have some thought go through her mind but doesn’t like verbalize it, though. She nods and hurries off.

I look at Zac and he turns the recorder back on. I like hadn’t even noticed that it had been turned off.

He gives me another smile and I shudder.

What? I like know I’m probably just being paranoid—but, I’m suddenly wishing Manuela would hurry back. I certainly wish that Momma and Jacie hadn’t left. I look around for my phone, but, of course, it’s not around. I like haven’t seen it since before the disco party.

He breaks into my reverie, “OK, Jacie, now tell me what happened. How did all of this transpire—and what do you think precipitated it?”

I shrug and like tell him the story of the fire and being separated from Jillie, then the rag being put over my face—and waking up in the container.

He doesn’t break in or ask any questions. Just as I finish that part, Manuela comes in with my ice cream and I sigh in relief. Of course, they likely think it’s because I want the ice cream.

What? Of course, I want the ice cream! But I’m like getting seriously creepy vibes from Special Agent Zac Bender—and I don’t know why!

I take the bowl of ice cream from Manuela and say, “Thank you, Manuela. This is so good! Do you think you could look in the cafeteria and have my friend, Jillie—or my Momma—come in here? I like need my purse and I don’t know where it is.”

My heart is like pounding hard. I like know I’m just being an idiot, but, something like just doesn’t seem right.

Manuela nods and takes my empty bowl with her. I reach for the water pitcher on the little table beside my bed. Zac grabs a glass ahead of me and pours it full of water. He hands it to me with a smile and I nervously drink it down.

He says, “So, Jacie. You woke up in the container and never saw the person that took you, is that right?”

I just nod—then whisper, “Yes.”

I start like feeling warm and a little tingly, all over.

He says, “And you don’t know who might have done this to you, even though you’re a little pervert that has antagonized everyone in your school and unfairly gotten several thrown out. Even though, you’re living it high in that sham of a band that accepts the likes of you—flaunting yourself in public? Even though, you have a girlfriend that shunned a perfect boy and traded him in for a pervert like you? You really have no idea who might have done this, Jacie?”

He reaches over and pulls the nurse call button away from my reach as I struggle to breath. My airway is closing up and I don’t have the energy to move.

He puts his hand to his ear and nods. Then he says, “This session is over Mr. Alexander. Pretend all you want. Have a nice life. If you make it through today, always be looking over your shoulder—you never know where a Klingon might be hiding behind the mask of someone you trust. You will never be safe!”

He switches off the recording device and I like can barely see him leave the room through the thickening veil of darkness…

---

 

 
My eyes pop open and I struggle with like whatever is holding me down.

Momma is right there and puts a hand over my mouth and Jillie takes my hand and squeezes it.

Momma says, “It’s OK, Jacie. Don’t try and talk—the doctor can explain. They had to strap you down because you were flailing around so much.”

My heart is pounding, my throat is on fire on the inside and hurts like Hell on the outside.

Jillie says, “You almost died, Jacie! They had to do emergency surgery on you, but you will be fine! Stop thrashing around and they can take these restraints off!”

Someone I don’t know—obviously a doctor—comes over and like gives me a serious look. She says, “Hi, Jacie. We haven’t formally met, yet, since every time I have seen you, you were unconscious. My name is Vicky Rodriguez and I am your doctor.”

She slowly starts undoing the straps holding me down as she continues, “Now, like your Momma said, you can’t talk, right now. We had to temporarily paralyze your vocal cords so that they can heal. When Jillie here found you, you were deep in anaphylactic shock and your airway was completely shut off. We couldn’t get a tube down your throat and had to do an emergency tracheotomy.”

She looks at me and says, “Do you understand what that is? Please blink once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’.”

My head is like spinning! Anaphylactic shock? Isn’t that like when you’re really allergic to something and have a reaction? I didn’t have anything that I was allergic to! And like a tracheotomy? That’s like where they cut through you’re throat and put a tube through the hole to breath. She said emergency—did they like stick a pen down my throat like they show on TV all of the time?

She is still looking at me, so I blink—once.

She nods, “OK. Because of the swelling, there was a slight mishap with your vocal cords and we then had to do some emergency surgery to fix them once the swelling went back down, which it quickly did with the appropriate medications.”

I blink.

She looks at me funny and asks, “Yes? Yes, what?”

I close my eyes in frustration. Is she like an idiot?? I wasn’t like blinking ‘yes’! It was surprised blink!

I open my eyes and force them to like stay open. I shrug and motion like I’m writing.

She smiles and says, “They’re bringing us a small whiteboard right now. Hang on just a little longer. We haven’t been able to figure out what you reacted to, though. The only thing we have on file—and your Momma knows about—is your severe allergy to MSG. Manuela, our cook, is adamant that there was no MSG in your soup. On top of that, we don’t even stock it in the hospital.”

There are like ten million thoughts going through my head as she talks.

What? Like what about Zac Bender? Where is he—I like don’t know what he did to me; but I like know he did it to me. And my voice? Will it be the same? I like mean, I don’t think I can sing—but how will this affect how others do? And…

At that moment, a young nurse brings in one of those small erasable whiteboards and hands it to me with a black marker.

I write on it, “What about Zac Bender? He did this!”

Momma says, “We don’t know where he went. The FBI says there is no Zac Bender that works for them—or was assigned to this case. There are now two armed policemen guarding your and Aphrodite’s doors and, trust me, no one gets passed me without me scrutinizing their badge and picture ID. I’m so sorry, Jacie, we should never have left you alone with him!”

I shake my head and write, “You couldn’t have known!”

She sobs, “But I should have checked!”

The doctor puts a hand on her shoulder and said, “Many people before you should have checked.”

Momma nods and says, “If Manuela hadn’t sent Jillie up here to look for your purse, you wouldn’t have made it.”

She sobs again and the doctor nods at the nurse, who gives Momma a little cup. Momma looks at her and the Doctor says, “It’s just a mild sedative, like we talked about. I think it’s time for you to take it.”

Momma sighs and takes the little cup, then a cup of water. She swallows the contents of both and sighs again.

I look at her, like shocked. Momma never takes medicine! This has like really gotten to her.

I feel the blood drain from my face as I remember the last words ‘Zac Bender’ uttered before I passed out. I write it down on the little board. Momma, Jillie, and the doctor’s faces all become pale.

Momma goes to the door and motions. Two men in loose-fitting dark suits come in. One is older and one is younger. Momma says, “Jacie, these are real FBI agents. I have verified that—believe me! This is Special Agent, Jerry Jones.” She points to the older man, then to the younger one and says, “And this is Agent Slim McMann.”

They both nod to me and the older guy says, “We’re sorry about this whole ordeal, Jacie. We’ll get to the bottom of it, though. We were back at our hotel waiting for you to wake up when this imposter was here. Something like that won’t happen again—not with the security layers we have in place, now. We thought the danger was over, since we killed the fellow that kidnapped you.”

Momma hands him the whiteboard and he reads it. He looks up at me in surprise, “He said this?”

I blink once and nod, just to like be safe.

I feel a chill go down my spine at the worried look that crosses his face. He says, “This is much more serious than I thought. We have a picture of the guy from the security cameras here in the building and just got word that he is an international assassin, Gio Franco, that is a part of the Italian mob. There was a pretty good chance that whatever he did to you would be successful, but it seems he intentionally left the door open for you to survive—otherwise you would be dead, right now. He is that good.”

I feel all hope of life drain from me at that very moment. I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if he had succeeded—then all of this would be over, at least.

What? All of what, you ask? Like Hell if I know! But, at least it would be over!

What? Yeah, I do like kind of want to live to find out what it is about. But, I like don’t want to live in terror and paranoia the rest of my life.

Like Klingons? Really?

My head pops up and I motion for the whiteboard. I quickly erase the contents and ‘tell’ them about his Star Trek references and his use of my ‘full’ name.

Special Agent Jerry Jones scratches his head and says, “Well, it’s clear he has his background knowledge of you. So, he must know someone that was able to feed that to him.”

Jillie speaks up and says, “There aren’t very many people that know the story of the Klingon with the mask, though. Surely Rita or Gina aren’t in on this!”

Momma shakes her head and says, “No, I can’t believe that.” She then explains who they are and the significance of the story to the agents.

Agent Slim McMann says, “Well, I think we’ll like need to have a word with them, regardless. We’ll need your permission, though, since it’s medically confidential information.”

Momma nods.

Special Agent Jerry looks at me and asks, “If we get you a computer, can you type out everything you remember about your encounter with Gio, since you can’t talk right now?”

I blink once and nod my head. I like have no idea how it will help, but I’ll give it my best shot. All of this has me so lost. What did I like ever do to anyone to deserve this? All I wanted to do was wear panties when I was five!

What? Well, like now, too. What’s your point? That’s like worth killing me over? Really?

I sigh and take the computer that Agent Slim hands me. The agents leave me alone in the room with Jillie, Momma, and the doctor.

The doctor says, “Jacie, we’ll keep your vocal cords paralyzed for another day to let them rest, then we will let you slowly start talking again. Unfortunately, we had to significantly tighten them during the repair. Best case, that will just give you a higher voice, which won’t matter, since you’re now living as a girl. Worst case, it could be a shrill, or squeaky voice—sort of like Minnie Mouse. We’re confident that it will be fine—if you take it easy and don’t stress them until they’re fully healed, which will take a week, or two.”

You like can’t imagine the thoughts going through my head right now… “Ladies and Gentlemen, P2SK and their new Borg lead singer, Jacie Mouse!”

Jillie squeezes my hand and says, “Don’t worry, Hon! I like just know it will be OK! I just wish I could like kiss you right now!”

The doctor smiles and says, “Well, you can—but no tonsil-licking ones!” She giggles and says, “I will leave you to write your report.”

She turns and leaves. Momma says, “I need to go call your Daddy. He’s finally back in the country, now, and should be here tonight.”

I take the board and ask, “What day is it? Time?”

Momma says, “You lost another day in this whole ordeal. It’s Thursday and ten in the morning.”

I sigh and nod. Momma gives me a peck on the cheek and goes out into the hall, leaving me alone with Jillie. She squeezes my hand and gives me a hard kiss on the lips.

She looks in my eyes and says, “There’s like more where that came from—as soon as we can. Promise!”

---

 

 
I look up from the computer and sigh. I’m so tired!

What? Sure, I’ve like been knocked out and unconscious. Sure, I’ve like been ‘asleep’ a lot. But, I’m like mentally exhausted!

I glance at Jillie asleep in the chair next to my bed and smile—then grimace. I’m envious—sleep for me like means more dreams—well, nightmares to like be more exact.

I sigh and read through my ‘report’ one more time. It’s like as good as I’m going to get it. I still don’t like know what good it will do, but maybe it will…

What? Like, it could!

Err…right?

I glance over at Jillie and wish she were in the bed with me. I miss her warm body against mine…

I gasp, that reminds me of the warmth of Dite’s body against mine—and the fact that I like really liked it.

What? That like confuses the Hell out of me!

I look at Jillie and sigh. I think about Dite and sigh deeper. As Yoda would say, ‘Confused, I am!’

I blush and jump like I’m caught red-handed when there is a brief knock on the door and a beautiful Dite smiles in through the door. She comes in, wearing a short, pink, fuzzy robe over a short, silky, black nightgown and fuzzy pink slippers.

She comes in and gives me a big hug as Jillie wakes up and stretches with a yawn.

Dite says, “Hi, girl! I am glad to see you awake! I am so sorry about your voice and what happened!”

She looks around and lowers her voice to a whisper, “Uncle Apollo is talking to his…friends. The guy that did this to you is part of the rival…family. This is causing quite the stir—especially, since Uncle Apollo’s…friends don’t know why the Italians are involved. They are rivals, but there has been a long-standing truce. This could bring that truce to an end!”

Jillie comes over and gives Dite a hug and says, “It’s good to see you up and around, Dite. What’s this about rivals?”

Dite looks around in fear and shushes Jillie, “Shhhh! Not so loud. We really cannot trust anyone around here. I heard about what Gio said to you, Jacie. Uncle Apollo said not to take it lightly!”

I groan!

What? Of course, it wasn’t out loud! Now how would I do that? I mean, like really?

Anyway, that doesn’t make the groan any less real!

All thoughts of Dite snuggled up to me under a blanket evaporate. The cotton candy in my head is still thick, but becoming brittle as the cold from the sheer terror that is beginning to take over my mind turns it hard and it shatters, little by little.

These people attacking me are terrorists—and they’re like winning! My mind is like starting to seize up from the horror of what could happen.

My paranoia has like just been put on steroids!

I look past Dite to the door and see the two cops standing there. But, like are they on someone’s payroll? Are they like just waiting to let Gio back in to finish his job when no one is looking? It’s not like I could scream.

I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. Dite seems to like notice and says, “It is OK, Hon. Those two policemen are on my uncle’s…friends…side. So, that means they are on yours. You are adopted family now.”

Somehow, that like doesn’t make me feel better. Adopted ‘family’? Does that like mean I’m part of the Greek mafia, now? Like it, or not, I’m family? But then, I don’t think there is an old-Greek term for family… So, is that even what the Greek Mafiosi call themselves?

What? I’m digressing? I think it’s called displacing…

I sigh and look back at the cops. Suddenly, I wish I was Borg. Assimilated, or not, I would know what they were thinking… Well, Betazoid would work, too—without all of the assimilation issues…

What? I told you, it’s called displacement. If I’ve learned nothing from my shrink sessions, it’s what displacing means. Like, look it up if you’re so curious!

I see Apollo stop and talk to the cops at the door. He winks and laughs, then comes in and gives me a hug. He says, “It’s good to see you awake, Jacie. It will be even better to hear you talk—and sing—again.”

I shake my head and shrug, then take my whiteboard and ask, “The restaurant?”

He shrugs, “It will take some renovations to get it back in shape. Mostly smoke and water damage. There never really was a fire, just a lot of smoke. Whoever did this likely started the sprinklers with a lighter. It was all geared towards creating a panic.”

I shrug and write with a wry smile, “It worked!”

He laughs softly and says, “Yes, that it did. The main thing is that you’re both safe. And right now, you both are—trust me on that. There are some new…layers of security for while you’re in here.”

I pale.

What? I’m like no expert in mafias—Greek, or not. But, I don’t think ‘favors’ happen without a price. I’m just not sure who will like be expected to pay that price…

He hugs Dite and says, “Come on, Hon. Let’s let Jacie get some rest. I need to talk to you.” He looks at me and says, “Rest up, Hon. We’ll have you out of here and home in no time!”

Dite gives me a hug and I smell her clean scent—very close to what she smelled like when we were naked together. It causes my heart to skip and I feel my face burn red in shame at the thoughts that I can’t stop.

What? What thoughts? Errr… Some things are like private—this is one of those things!

They leave and Jillie comes over and gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then she blows the cotton candy in my head to the moon—and beyond—when she says, “Y…y…you like her don’t you? I…I…I can understand that. She’s beautiful! I…I…I won’t stand in your way.”

---

 

 
This time my eyes do pop out and I have to chase them across the room!

It takes me a few seconds to like remember why I can’t get any words out when I try to answer her. I internally curse Gio What’s-His-Name and vigorously shake my head with an emphatic ‘no’!

I pull her into a hug and squeeze hard then take up the whiteboard. I write, “No! Doophus! I love you! Yes, I like Dite, but not like that!”

I hand the board to Jillie and she smiles—but I like think she doesn’t totally believe me.

What? Yeah, I like know… If I’m like confused as Hell myself, how am I like going to convince her, right?

Anyway, Jillie gives me a hug, but it seems…different…

I curse Gio What’s-His-Name and damn him to the darkest depths of Hell. Him and whoever is responsible for Dite’s and my kidnapping. I like wouldn’t be in this pickle if not for them!

Err, right?

Jillie says, “I like want to believe you, Jacie, but…” She shrugs and wipes a tear from her eye. She continues with a sniffle, “I saw how you looked at her just now.”

I shake my head and furiously wipe off the board. This is like so infuriating—and like totally frustrating—to have to communicate like this!

I write, “We will have to talk about this when I can. It isn’t like you think. I promise!”

She smiles and her eyes are still glistening, but the smile is more genuine. She nods and says, “OK, Hon. I believe you. I like was just so frustrated that I lost you at the restaurant and then you were gone without us knowing where. Then they found you naked under the blanket with her…”

I furiously wipe at the board again to explain and she gently grabs my hand. She says, “I know why you were—in my head. That like still isn’t totally making it down to my heart, though. I know you would have both likely died of hypothermia if you like hadn’t.”

I solemnly nod my head, pull my knees up to my chest and hug them. I rest my chin on my knees and blow the hair out of my eye in frustration.

Jillie giggles and I look at her. I guess the stress has like finally gotten to her!

She says, “You like just looked like one of the frustrated Disney Princesses! Sort of like Ariel when she couldn’t talk and get Eric to kiss her!”

I look at her…and grin.

She’s like back!

Errr…well, it’s like a start, anyways!
I wake up from my nap to the sound of Daddy coming through the door. He comes straight over and gives me a huge hug and I feel his tears dripping on my shoulder.

He just like keeps repeating over and over, “You’re safe! You’re safe! You’re safe…”

Finally, he pushes back from the hug and looks at me. He says, “I can’t believe you were in such danger and I was stuck in Europe and couldn’t be here to help!”

I shake my head and take up my whiteboard. I write, “There is nothing you could have done!”

He shakes his head and says, “I could have at least held your Mother’s hand.”

She hugs him from behind and says, “It wasn’t your fault, Hon. That is unless you can suddenly control the weather and used that as an excuse to stay away!”

He gives her a tired smile. I like guess it has become sort of a private joke between them.

I grin and write, “Weather Wizard!”

They both laugh and Jillie comes in at that moment. She looks around and asks, “What did I like miss?”

Momma tells her the joke and she smiles. I guess she’s like me—knows it’s some sort of private joke…

She comes over and gives me a hug and asks, “Have a good nap?”

I nod and my stomach growls.

And like right on cue, Manuela arrives with supper.

I hesitate as I take the first bite. Supposedly, the soup is what caused me to have the reaction before. I know Manuela likely didn’t like have anything to do with it, but my paranoia is like still very alive. Plus, they like still haven’t figured out how it did happen if it wasn’t her.

Momma notices my hesitation and says, “It’s OK, Hon. I really don’t think you have to worry about it.”

I look down at the soft foods…

What? Soft foods? You know, like mashed potatoes and gravy, things like that.

What? I like don’t know—I guess because my throat is still sensitive…

What? I like know they cut into my airway and not my esophagus. I mean…like, duh!

Anyway, I look at the food and shudder, then take a bite. I’m like hungry and they’re right here. If I’m going to have another reaction, at least they’ll be here to let someone know.

I sigh. It’s good. I like don’t think I will ever view food the same, though.

Momma just pats me knee and says, “It’ll be alright, Hon. You’ll see!”

I half-heartedly nod and take another bite.

When I swallow the last of the food on the plate and still like haven’t had a reaction, I feel like it may be OK.

Well, like this time.

I pick up my spoon and start on the chocolate pudding and purr.

What? I know I can’t like make any sounds, right now, But mental purrs like count, too! This stuff is seriously good!

I smile at Momma and Daddy gives me a hug. They tell me they’re going to a restaurant to eat and then back to the hotel for the night. Jillie is staying with me, though.

What? No not like in bed with me!

Well… I mean, like maybe just a little cuddling later…

Errr… Like, go away!

---

As always, if you enjoy this story, please remember to hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button.

---

Jacie went to extreme lengths to help a pretty girl struggling with her past. The result was an unexpected twist of fate.

---

 

Battle of the Bangs

Copyright © 2018 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
All image originals sourced from Creative Commons.
All movie-related references made in this novel are trademarked by Paramount Pictures, Disney, Universal Pictures, or Marvel. All other characters are completely fictitious and any similarities with actual persons are purely coincidental.

 

 
Part Seven

I watch Jillie texting on her phone and look at her with a scowl. My phone got lost in all of this and I like miss being able to socialize with the world. I love Jillie and all—but, at least I could text with the others and not rely on her relaying to me what the others are doing on break. I’m stuck here and can’t talk—let alone text. I pick up my whiteboard with a huff and write, “This is the worst spring break EVER!”

What? Why? Really?!?!?

First I get kidnapped, then I get locked up in the back of a semi and nearly frozen to death, then I almost die of an allergic reaction that was an intentional attack, and I like can’t talk because my vocal cords got messed up when they were saving me.

Does that like sound like a great spring break to you? Huh? Does it?!?! Well, like does it?!?!?!?

Anyway, Jillie sighs as she reads my message and gives me a kiss. I’m lying in the bed and so, my foot can’t pop, but that doesn’t stop it from trying!

She sighs, “I know, Hon. But, at least it is break—otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to come be with you. This way you aren’t getting behind in school, either. We may still miss a couple of days when it starts back up in Monday, but the band will send us any notes and assignments for us to catch up on.”

I scowl deeper. This like sucks!

What? No! I’m like not in a good mood!

What? Why not? The doctors promised to lift my talking ban this morning. It’s after lunch and my chords are still in their medically-induced paralysis. Momma and Daddy are back at the hotel catching up on things, since they’re missing work, and no one is telling me anything. After a quick examination of my throat by the doctor this morning, it’s just been Jillie and me…

Well, and my guards outside the door.

Thoughts race through the cotton candy fibers in my brain that just don’t do Jillie’s kiss justice. I can’t like fully concentrate on it. I like want to talk, but I’m like really not sure I want to know what has happened to my voice! I don’t like particularly want to sound like Jacie Mouse and it seems that’s like a distinct possibility after the emergency surgery.

What? I need to make up my mind! Like who asked you for your opinion?

I’m like just getting back into concentrating on the kiss when we both jump out of our skins at the exaggerated clearing of someone’s throat.

Jillie like shows off cat-like abilities as she jumps straight up and off of me. There is a loud smack as the seal of our lip-lock breaks. She turns in mid-air and comes down in a crouching-tiger-like position. I like am not sure if it was intentional, or not—it sure looks impressive, though.

My eyes quickly refocus on the interloper and see that it’s Doctor Rodriguez standing there with a mix of smirk and knowing smile on her face.

She says, “Well, Jacie, I was going to see if you were ready to try talking yet, but I can come back later. It seems you are engaging in deep-tissue massage therapy, right now. I never interrupt a Doctor at work!”

Jillie gets a funny look on her face, then can’t help but giggle.

I like just roll my eyes and open and close the fingers and my thumb—like my hand is talking. I point at myself and mouth, “I am ready,” as I emphatically nod my head.

It’s Dr. Rodriguez’ turn to giggle, then she says, “OK. Well, then. Let’s see what we’ve got. I discontinued the paralytic after my examination this morning and it should have worn off by now. Let me take one more look before you try anything, though!”

I take a deep breath and nod. My heart is beating like the combined drumlines at a fierce Southern football band competition!

What? Like… Will she like let me talk? Will I like sound normal? How different will I sound? Please don’t let me sound like Minnie Mouse!

What? Minnie Mouse is better than No Mouse? Really?

Dr. Rodriguez tells me to ‘open wide’ and I stretch my mouth as wide open as I can.

She uses a tongue depressor and shines a light down my throat looking at heavens knows what. After a little bit, she says, “OK, Jacie. Take it easy. Give me a quiet ‘Ahhhhh’.”

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. It like takes all of my will power to not try and just scream out loud! I slowly let my breath out and make the meekest of sounds possible. You can barely hear the sound, it’s like so quiet, “Ahhhhhh….”

She nods, “Good girl! Now, slowly ramp it up.”

I like can already tell my voice is not the same…

What? It like just feels different…

I take in another breath and slowly give the sound more and power—until I am at a normal volume.

Jillie lets out a little gasp—which like confirms my suspicion that it’s not the same. At least I didn’t hear a squeak coming from my mouth.

What? I was afraid it might sound like nails on a chalkboard—or something like that!

Anyway, Dr. Rodriguez says, “OK, Jacie. How does it feel?”

My hands like automatically go to my throat as she removes the tongue depressor. I shrug and gently clear my throat, feeling the vibration on my fingers lightly laying on it.

I let out a sigh. I like can talk! But…

I say, “I…I…I guess it feels…OK. Just like…different!”

I can hear my own words register in my ears at a much higher pitch than I’m like used to.

Jillie smiles and says, “Well, Hon—you’re not going to have any problems singing the soprano parts, now! You’ll kill the Bee Gee songs without even trying!”

I feel the blood like rush from my face! I like knew it was high, but that’s like really high! What if I decide… I mean… What if Jacie isn’t…

What? It would be really hard to sound like a guy like that! I’m like just saying!

Jillie had recorded my first sounds on her phone and I squeeze my eyes shut and nod for her to play them back.

I hear the voice come out of the speaker and the few remaining droplets of blood left in my face rush to my toes!

What? No… It’s like not Jacie Mouse!

The voice is clear as a bell—Angelic in quality. I think the Bee Gees would nearly be contralto compared to my new voice. Like, think the highest-of-the-high operatic fat ladies! And it’s like Jillie said, I’m like not even trying to go high. I like have no doubt I could shatter glass if I tried, now.

Dr. Rodriguez says, “Are you OK, Hon? I have nothing to compare your voice to from before, but you do seem to have a perfectly clear soprano voice, now. Is that bad?”

I shudder and Jillie says, “Hang on, Doc.”

I open my eyes and watch Jillie search through files on her phone. She pulls up a video of the band playing Night Fever. I’m singing—at my previous highest pitch, which would barely have qualified as soprano. There’s no doubt that I used to be mezzo-soprano.

Dr. Rodriguez nods and Jillie pulls up another video of us goofing around. I’m talking in my normal… Well, my…old voice… It’s clearly lower. I must be a whole octave higher, now—at least!

Dr. Rodriguez purses her lips and says, “Well, that is quite the difference, but it’s very clear—so, it won’t hurt your singing, right?”

I sigh and say, cringing as I can’t help but hone in on my new higher pitch, “No, I like suppose not. But, I…I…umm…I haven’t fully committed to being Jacie…”

Jillie gives me a double-take, “James Tiberius Amanda Christine Jacie Alexander! Since when?”

It’s Dr. Rodriguez’ turn to give her a double-take. I like almost giggle—but like only almost.

I shrug, “Listen to yourself, Jillie. Even you haven’t fully committed to me being Jacie in your mind. You still prefix my full name with ‘James Tiberius’.

She blusters, “But that’s different!”

I like just give her a look that clearly communicates my ‘Really?’ without me having to use my ‘new’ pipes.

Dr. Rodriguez jumps in, “I didn’t know, Jacie. I was under the impression that you were fully committed. I was even discussing getting you on hormones a little early with your doctors back home. I know that you’ve been having emotional issues. There are downsides to puberty suppressants—and putting you on female hormones has a short-term hypersensitizing effect on your emotions, but that quickly settles and the hormones help you mentally cope as your body and mind develops as it should—at least that’s my experience with similar cases as yours. This changes things, though.”

I sigh, “Welcome to my world, Doc. I’m like so screwed up that I have two shrinks!”

She gives me a sour look.

I shrug, “Sorry, psychologists! But, like you know what I mean. I’m fairly certain this is like the real me, but…”

She nods, “OK, well, your voice will mature once you go through puberty—no matter which way you go. It however won’t really change the fact that you are going to be a high soprano the rest of your life, though. Testosterone would likely deepen it slightly, but not significantly, I’m afraid, with the tightening we had to do. The damage was too extensive to even contemplate operating again—you could permanently lose your voice if we tried.”

I feel the tears well up in my eyes.

What? I like don’t know why! I like don’t know anything right now, other than like it seems another choice has been taken away from me! It should like be my choice! Even if it’s like the right thing for me—it should be my choice!

Suddenly, I like can’t stop the tears. Jillie pulls me into a hug and Dr. Rodriguez says, “I’m sorry, Hon. I truly am!”

My face is buried in Jillie’s shoulder and my tears are soaking through her t-shirt. I hear the gasp come from the door and Momma’s voice, “Jacie, Hon! What’s wrong? Dr. Rodriguez is it her voice? She can talk, right?”

I shake my head and keep it buried in Jillie’s shoulder. I hear Daddy growl, “What’s going on? Somebody say something!”

I lift my head and wail, “What do you want me to say, Daddy?”

I watch him like fall into the nearest chair in shock and Momma comes over and pulls me and Jillie into a group hug as I continue to sob.

---

 

 

I toss and turn and get all tangled up in the covers.

Jillie mumbles, “What is it, Hon? Can’t sleep?”

She pulls me into an embrace in our bed and gives me a toe-curling kiss, then says, “I can fix that!”

What? No! We’re not like in the bed at the hospital! Are you like stupid?

With my vocal cord surgery deemed a ‘success’ and my other health considered OK after my kidnapping, I was released this—I like think it’s still this—afternoon. I look at the clock and see it was actually yesterday afternoon, since it’s now like 1:32 a.m.

Jillie and I are sharing a room with two queen beds at Momma and Daddy’s hotel.

What? Of course, we like made it look like we’re sleeping in separate beds!

What? I like don’t know if they’ll believe it. I like honestly don’t care!

Anyway, I let Jillie curl my toes with her kiss and…

What? No! No more details!

What? Well, OK! Details? You want details? I’ll give you details!

I slept like a baby the rest of the night! Err…after about three, that is…

Well, and like except for the nightmares about being the fat lady in the opera…

---

 

 

So far, the ride home is like…well…boring. And we just got started!

I’m like being quiet—both because I’m still supposed to take it easy on my vocal cords and because I like don’t want to hear what they produce when I do use them! I like still cringe at the sound of my own voice!

What? Yeah, Jillie is in the car with us. What’s like your point? Oh… Yeah, we plan on doing some of that…

Anyway, there’s a procession of sorts. There’s a ‘non-descript’…

What? Why the air quotes? Well, if you’ll like let me finish…

There’s a ‘non-descript’ black car out front. Like with the FBI agents in it; like that kind of non-descript. You like know… ‘Men in Black’…

Behind that car is Apollo and Dite, followed by us, followed by another ‘non-descript’ black car. There are like other really non-descript cars out there, as well, according to Apollo.

What? Yeah with his ‘friends’. Both the FBI and his friends insisted on escorting us home after what happened yesterday. The FBI thought it best to get back to our home turf ahead of schedule.

What? What happened? Oh right, I like forget that you have issues keeping up… No worries, though. Like even I am having issues keeping up like with all of this!

So, Agent Slim caught a lucky break when he came to pick up the laptop that I had made all of my notes on. I had already been discharged and had left it on the little table next to the bed. Since it was like encrypted and under the supervision of the charge nurse, he was like OK with that.

Anyway, when he goes in to pick it up, there was some like feedback on his comms mic.

What? His words, like not mine!

Anyway, he quickly discovered a bug hidden on the underside of the table. He was able to trace the signal to a repeater and then to the kitchen. The dishwasher still like had his earpiece in even though I was gone.

They like still haven’t been able to get anything out of him but are like confident he sneaked the MSG into my soup. They like surmise that Gio placed the bug in my room when he came to ‘interview’ me. Everything being said in my room was like being monitored by this creep and recorded on his phone and sent to the cloud. The FBI is working on a warrant to get access to the account, but his is like encrypted and he won’t give them access. They can’t break in…

What? Why is that like hard to keep up with? Well, like you couldn’t, right? I had to like explain it again.

Anyway, it like gets weirder. The dishwasher, so it like seems, is tied to the Mexican drug cartels. The ones that Dite and were going to be delivered to. Again, they seem to be working with the Italian Mafia, who is working against the Greek one—even though there is a supposed truce. The Greeks are like on my side, which only complicates matters for me, since now I have ties to the Mafia—implicit, or not. Intentional, or not. Consented, or not.

It’s like enough for me to wish for the days of only worrying about the Borg! These suckers are like for real!

What? Yeah, that’s like the worst part. I still like have no effing idea why!

What? Language? Are you like really starting with that again? Do you like want to know what happens, or not?

Anyway, I look out the window and sigh. I’ll never have good feelings about Texas again—and certainly hope I never set foot in Alpine ever again. The people at the Medical Center there were terrific. Well, mostly—save for a certain creep of a dishwasher…

What? I like know it’s not Texas’s fault! But, like, well…you know…

Anyway, I see the sign announcing that we’re entering New Mexico and sigh again. It’s still a long way home.

I look back over at Jillie, who has a scowl of her own on her face, today.

What? Why? Well, I was like getting to that!

Anyway, she’s like staring at the menu on her phone—in particular at one app.

On a hunch, Special Agent Jerry checked her phone after they found the bug in my room.

What? Why? It had like something to do Mafia’s M.O., or something.

Anyway, he found this like little app that no one pays attention to on her phone. She didn’t like install it and has no idea where it came from. According to him, it like lets someone take control of her phone and turn on the camera or microphone without her knowing. Whoever is like controlling it, can video record anything she’s doing and track where she’s at while doing it. In essence, it like turns her phone into a sophisticated bug. It also like has the capability of transferring to other phones.

Special Agent Jerry checked Momma’s and Daddy’s phones, too. They don’t have the app on theirs. Dite’s and Apollo’s do. There’s like no way to know if mine did, or not, since it has disappeared. Mr. Jerry thinks that either my phone—or Dite’s—was the origin.

What? Yeah, Dite’s phone like was lost, too. Apollo got her a new one and as soon as she reinstalled everything from her cloud backup, the app was there. The FBI says that means that either the app has been on our phones for a long time, or it was installed after they kidnapped us, but before they destroyed our phones. Both Dite and I use fingerprint protection, but it would have like been easy to use our fingers to unlock the phones when we were unconscious.

What? Mine? Yeah, well the creep that kidnapped us could have taken it from my purse in the back before like starting the diversion… Dite had hers on her at the door while taking tickets.

Anyway, they like want to check my friends’ phones at home, too. They like think that will help figure some things out. Like why don’t Momma’s and Daddy’s have it? If there are certain friends that do—and others that don’t, like what does that mean?

What? Why doesn’t Jillie like just delete the app? Well, the FBI like asked her to keep it on there, so we like don’t tip anyone off that we know. They like installed an app of their own that lets them control the controller app…

What? I like told you it’s complicated!

Anyway, the app records the files and transmits them at certain times during the night, when the phone is charging to make it less noticeable. They will replace those files with scripted ones of their own to be transmitted. We can like feed the idiots doing this with false information. They made sure that like none of us give our friends a heads-up on this until they like can like be coached on what to do and say…

Not that I like could, anyway. I still like don’t have a phone!

---

 

 

We pull into the hotel right outside of Phoenix. We all climb out and like stretch big time! We go into the nearly-empty diner for a late supper after we check in and the FBI makes sure it’s OK. There’s no sight of Apollo’s ‘friends’, but I’m like sure they’re around somewhere close-by.

I like nearly jump out of my skin with joy, though, when Special Agent Jerry hands me a box with a new phone it. He pulls me aside and says, “Jacie, as soon as you reinstall everything from the cloud, the app may or may not be there. You know what to look for. It’s very important that you don’t let on that you know it’s on there, if it is. The phone is activated and you can set it up while we eat. If the app is on your phone, we’ll install ours before we leave the diner, OK?”

I nod vigorously. I like a have a phone again! I’ll be back in touch!

What? So what if that’s like really more important to girls? What’s your point?

We all order and I nervously set up my phone while Special Agent Jerry watches from across the table. It like gives me something to do besides thinking about my voice—or the fact that we’re all squeezed up at the table and Dite’s thigh keeps caressing mine as she moves.

Anyway, as soon as the apps are all reinstalled from the cloud, I check—and sure enough, the app is like right there!

I nod to Special Agent Jerry, who quietly comes over and hands me the instructions on how to download a special ‘game’ from the app store. Once it’s like installed, he checks something on his phone and nods. He now has control of the app on my phone.

I sigh. I’m like not an actor! This is like going to be hard. I can like now text again, but I can’t like say anything!

That doesn’t like stop me from blasting out a group text to the band that I’m sociable again!

I like spend the first half hour after supper in our suite’s common area responding to the various texts that I get back from my friends. Momma just shakes her head as she like watches Jillie and me cuddled up on the love seat. We’re texting in a group chat—that we’re like both in—without actually talking to each other.

What? I like know! Right? I like don’t get the problem either! It’s not like we’re not communicating with each other!

Besides, it like keeps me from having to like actually talk—and hear my voice. I haven’t like thought of the Borg in a couple of days—but it’s like they’ve programmed in a new voice for me. And like, once again, I had no choice…

Jillie notices my like hesitation in answering the last text and squeezes me in a hug. Then she like decides to communicate in other ways.

What? Well, I like think she is trying to see if we can like transfer thoughts by sticking our tongues down each other’s throats…

What? No! No more details!

The next day, Momma drives the Q7 while Daddy takes a nap. Like I guess he didn’t sleep well. I like don’t get it. Jillie and I didn’t have any issues with the bed in our room! Not that we were like really paying attention to it, though…

What? I told you! No more details!

Anyway, we’re like all totally dead by the time the familiar fog of the bay area becomes visible. When Daddy like finally pulls into the garage at almost seven o’clock, we all fairly like leap out of the car.

We had like split up as we came into town and Apollo drove to their house across town—with Agent Slim following him and Dite. Special Agent Jerry followed us home and he now walks across the yards with Jillie and me to her house.

As soon as we enter, we’re like mobbed by everyone in the band! After tearful hellos and looks of amazement as I tell my story—cringing the whole time at my voice—Special Agent Jerry whispers into my ear, “Have everyone quietly put their phones in this box.”

I whisper to Jillie to help and we go around and quickly get the whole group to do so while quickly shutting down any questions with a look. As soon as all of the phones are in the box, Special Agent Jerry closes the lid and says, “I know you’re wondering why we did that…”

And he quickly lets the group in on the issue of the apps. One-by-one he checks the phones and finds that like all of them are infected with the app—except for Jillie’s parents’ phones.

He quickly explains the plan to use the app against the crazies and everyone is like onboard with doing what’s needed—so everyone like installs the new ‘game’ on their phone that Jillie ‘discovered’ while waiting for me to wake up…

Unfortunately, we’re like no closer to knowing who or what started this whole thing. All we like know is that only my friends in the band—and Apollo and Dite—are the ones with the app…

I walk back home with Special Agent Jerry around ten-thirty after everyone leaves—and Jillie and I kiss each other good night. I’m going to miss sleeping with her tonight—I like could get used to having her in bed with me all the time…

What? Did you like have to go there? Really? I mean, like yeah! Dite was great to sleep with, too… Now, go like jump off a cliff!

Anyway, when we get home, Daddy is just turning off the news. He says, “Well, Hon, I had decided to keep you home from school tomorrow anyway. We need to take a trip into the city… As it is, though, it looks like you may get some extra time for spring break to make up for missing the real one!”

I give him a confuse look, “Like really? Why’s that, Daddy?”

He says, “Well, it seems the teachers are totally fed up, now, and there’s a nation-wide strike. It seems unlikely that you’ll have any school this week.”

I sigh—then smile…

It seems I’m getting a reprieve from having to face the Klingons at school. I’m not sure that my new Black Canary voice is ready for prime time, just yet…

---

 

 

I take the last sip of coffee from my large travel mug a look at Daddy as he puts the car into ‘park’. The drive had taken a little under an hour and now I like have to pee really bad.

He smiles back at me and says, “Ready?”

I nod and say, “I like hope they have a little girl’s room!”

He rolls his eyes, “Come on then! I’ve been wanting to introduce you for a long time, but I had hoped it would have been under better circumstances!”

I follow him into the building and immediately spy the restroom. I like make a beeline for it!

Much relieved, I like come out and see Daddy shaking hands with a nice-looking older gentleman. I hear him telling him that Momma couldn’t come because she had to work. Daddy waves me over and says, “Jacie, I’d like you meet an old friend of mine, Barnabas Jones! He has been our family lawyer for ages—well before you were born!”

The man smiles and gives my hand a gentle shake. He says, “Your Daddy has told me all about you—and has caught me up on what’s going on. I have a strict policy against bringing cell phones into my private office, so would you mind placing yours into this lock box? I assure you it will be fine—and right there when you’re ready to go. Trust me! I know how important they are to teenager girls!”

He winks at me and I smile. I place my phone into the lockbox along with Daddy’s. Mr. Jones closes the box and laughs, “Of course, that’s bogus—I don’t really have a ridiculous policy like that!”

I giggle, “Nice move, though, Mr. Jones.”

He laughs, “Jacie, Mr. Jones was my Grand-Pappy! Call me Barn—or Uncle Barn, if you rather.”

I nod, “OK, Uncle Barn. I like am getting more and more used to grown-ups asking me to call them by their first name. But it’s like still weird!”

He nods and says, “I know another little girl that thinks the exact same way… Anyway, we need to go through some legal things—then I want to introduce you to Rock Ford, my new detective associate. He is new to my team, since my long-time associate, Chuck Connors, moved to New York to head up the detective work at that office. He’s actually going to be in town this morning, though. George, you remember Chuck, right?”

Daddy nods and says, “Of course! It’ll be great to see him. So, he’s in New York, now?”

We go into Mr… Uncle Barn’s office and sit down while he and Daddy chat about Mr. Connors. I smell the coffee on the way in and he notices me sniffing it.

Ten minutes later, we’re all sitting again with a fresh cup of coffee and I can’t help but wonder who sits at the desk out front and if they like would normally be the one bringing in the coffee…

Anyway, we like go through a bunch of boring legal stuff…

What? Like, wills and stuff…

Anyway, after like about an hour—it seems more like three—there’s a light knock on the door and it opens a little. A pretty woman pokes her head in and says, “Sorry to interrupt, Hon, but we’re here.”

Daddy turns and looks at the woman, then jumps and says, “Brea! Congratulations, once again!”

She comes in and gives Daddy a giggle and a friendly hug then looks at me. Daddy says, “Brea, meet my...daughter, Jacie.”

I like notice the slight hesitation before the word ‘daughter’. I like don’t hold it against him, though—I’m like still trying figure that out, too.

Anyway, the woman smiles at me and says, “Hello, Jacie. It’s nice to finally meet you! Do you mind if I give you a hug? I’ve known your Momma and Daddy for a long time…”

Stunned, I like shake my head that I don’t mind and she gives me a friendly hug.

Uncle Barn says, “It may be a good time for a break…”

Brea says, “Yes, I’ll put on some fresh coffee. What would you like, Jacie? We have sodas…”

I say, “If you don’t mind, Ma’am, I’d like some more coffee?”

She giggles and says, “OK, then! But, only if you call me Brea! Aunt, if you must—I know how you young teenagers can be…”

I say, “Deal! Aunt Brea…”

She smiles and says, “I bet you’d like to get away from us old fuddy-duddies and socialize with someone your own age for a bit?”

I smile, like not knowing where she is going with this…

She opens the door and says, “Come on in, girls!”

I step back like in the nick of time as a blond whirlwind storms in, closely followed by an Asian-looking girl. Both rush over to Uncle Barn and he takes them into a huge hug.

They both shout, “Uncle Barn!”

At the same time, he says, “Day! Kim! Welcome to San Fran! It’s so great you could both come!”

---

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