Lewis and Melissa are newly graduated college students waiting to get started on their Masters in the fall. They decide to extend spring break to a three week vacation where they can deepen their relationship by sharing the hobby of skiing they have in common with the hobbies they want their significant other to embrace and share.

Lewis tapped the gas as his mustang came out of the midpoint of the last tight turn. Having got enough revs he clutched, and dropped straight from his over revved third to fifth before applying heavy gas. This resulted in the car rocketing around the rest of the turn toward the straight. Tires squealed, near slipped and re-gripped the road. Easing gas, clutching shifting to sixth he re-dropped his right foot to the gas pedal, and took off out of the curve. From the over revved forty-five he had entered the thirty mile an hour recommended curve, he exited it at nearly eighty and still accelerating.

Seeing that aside a bit of gentle bending there looked a good distance ‘till the next fold of land that would likely force the road into more curves, he let the speedometer climb beyond one-twenty and glanced at his girlfriend. Melissa was still gripping her seat with a slight tight expression. She was failing in her attempt to appear calm. He knew he had scared her on that last turn, it would have given her a shot of adrenalin, as it had him. He was happy that she, like him, now was an adrenalin junkie. Even if she was in denial. He had talked her into driving from the ski slopes of Southern Colorado to the foot hills in Arizona instead of flying, yielding three and a half more days of excitement. Excitement that included some accelerated freefall at the more flat, near midpoint of the journey, prior to swinging back into the foot hills.

Unfortunately, his part of the vacation would soon be over. However, at least he had decreased the five days of searching for peace and transcendence, or something, to three. Further, by aggressively driving his car with their skis on its roof rack instead of flying, it meant that part of two of those three days had some adrenalin fueled time too. Man and machine verses land and cop.

“We should be there in twenty odd minutes, which is earlier than their shuttle bus would have got us to the retreat if we’d flown.” Lewis stated smugly.

“That is unless we get a speeding ticket or crash.” Melissa interjected. “If we are so close, and it’s only a bit passed ten; why don’t you slow down? You know, so we actually get there?”

Lewis grinned broadly at his girl. “Oh Mel, you know you like it.” He eased off on the gas to look like he was appeasing her, when in reality he would have had to anyway shortly, as the fold of land was about to pounce the car in mere moments.

This commune would be a drag, but he was sure that Mel was the one, and you had to be willing to make some compromises in a relationship. Putting in the token effort for three days of this vacation, meant he could say he honestly tried the ‘hippy roo rah’, and not have to do it again.

Mel had been hooked after throwing herself out of a perfectly good airplane, and he had got her skiing moguls on black diamond slopes. She had been adamant she was only an intermediate skier. Melissa also didn’t think she would enjoy skydiving. It had taken tons of coaxing, and pushing, to get her to make the first, and of course the harder second jump. Harder because you actually know what to expect the second time. However, now she was the proud owner of an “A-type” skydiving license. With exam eight, the simulated emergency jump from out of a Cessna at two-point-five “K” feet, and a total of twelve jumps from the King Air at fourteen-five “K” feet, logged in her jump-log-book. Lewis knew she was hooked.

Of course the King Air jumps were supposed to be at an altitude of twelve thousand max, with the whole cabin being open to the atmosphere. But the club knew its members enjoyed the extra seconds of accelerated free fall the higher altitude allowed. They had joined the club, and jumped for three days before the skiing. During which, Melissa had passed five of the eight exams needed for the “A” license, while he finally got his “C-type” license.

Lewis recalled his first jump, nearly three years ago, while thinking about how happy he was to get Melissa to take her second jump. Almost everyone thinks that skydiving is scary. If you decide to learn by the accelerated free fall method, it actually is scarier than most people can imagine. That is why making the second jump, is the more important jump to take. Only a third or so of the crazy adrenaline junkies that make that first accelerated freefall leap, take the second jump after.

There are two main methods to getting your “A-type” skydiving license. One, the static line method, takes more time and has numerous, typically over a hundred, jumps from a low altitude with your ripcord hooked up to the plane. So your chute opens as you fall away from the plane, and you don’t experience freefall. The second is accelerated freefall. This is where you pay to have two jump masters fly with you for your first three exams. Then one jumpmaster for the next four exams, and the final eighth exam you spot your own emergency simulated jump, prior to the jumpmaster letting his two static line students cramped in the Cessna with you, jump. Melissa had only needed to retake exam three, which is common. Lewis retook it sort of twice, but the second retake had the second jumpmaster record his free fall with a helmet video cam. He actually took exams three and four together. So Lewis didn’t really retake the exam a third time, as his next jump after, was for exam five.

The King Air that both Lewis and Melissa used, has its rear door and the seats removed. This allows for the largest number of jumpers. In fact aside the pilot and copilots chairs and essential equipment to flying the plane, everything else is gutted. The sacrificial, cough, skydivers sit along the floor of the empty fuselage. At jump time the primary and secondary jumpmasters, cling from outside the plane to the edge of the door opening, looking back in while the sacrifice, cough cough, student, backs into the middle of the doorway. The door of course has been removed to cut back on un-needed weight. The two jumpmasters ensure peel off from the plane as a unit, by the one toward the front of the plane being dragged into the planes slip stream first, and the rear one last.

The student has spent hours learning how to arch their body in order to fly it. They also learn the hand signals needed to understand commands. It’s pretty noisy falling through air. There are ones for bending or straightening arms and legs, arching more, relaxing, and wave off for indicating planned chute deployment. The signals enable the jumpmasters to aid in stable flight in the three axis of available movement in the air.

After reaching terminal velocity the body that can only sense acceleration, can only feel the wind buffeting up against their jumpsuit, and thus feels like the wind is pushing them up, allowing them to fly. Flying… Well in reality, flying flippin’ fast straight down toward the earth anyway.

“Look, its sign posted!” Melissa suddenly called out, interrupting Lewis’s wool gathering.

Lewis glanced, and sure enough they had obviously paid to advertise along the side of the rural main road. Mandelson’s Meditation Meet & Spa – Rejuvenate, Relax, Rewind and find yourself. It is right in three miles.

He wondered if three miles from the opposite direction the sign said it was ‘not right’ being it would be a left turn from that direction. Lewis made sure to not snort, at the whole find yourself. He knew exactly who, and where he was, so had never needed to find himself. ‘Well I can handle three days.’ Lewis thought to himself.

The view was amazing, Lewis had to grant. In the foot hills of the Rocky Mountain Range, this section of Arizona was pretty country. It was also, at just over a six-hour drive from their apartment, a little too close. Hopefully, Melissa will not want to visit this boring retreat during their next vacation. Then they can spend more time skiing, or at the on the way, or return trip sky diving sections of the three week trip.

Of course as they’d wrapped up their Bachelors in December, they were able to take more than just spring break to have this long vacation. With starting their Master’s in the fall they wouldn’t be able to extend this break next year.

Slowing down and indicating, he made the right turn. A second paid sign advertised the spa a few miles ahead. The road was not as well up kept, so he stayed in fourth gear, with the engine purring along eating miles in the forty’s.

“Oh, You will enjoy this Lewis, as much as I enjoyed sky diving.” Melissa stated, while getting exited. Lewis kept quiet not wanting to annoy her by explaining how much he was hating the idea of the next part of the vacation.

Pulling onto the driveway for the spa Lewis decided to only up the gear into third to negotiate the gravel road. It twisted into the pine canopied hills. The mustang left a cloud of gravel dust to obscure the rear view back to civilization. The bends and the trees seemed to remove the car from realty. Eventually it dead ended into a gravel parking lot, with a single log building. Seeing a half-dozen or so cars Lewis was worried the room must be tiny or communal.

“Melissa, I thought we had a cabin? As in our own cabin. Not a shared cabin.” Lewis queried while parking the car, and pointing the single log cabin.

“Yes, we have our own cabin. That is the registration, and shop. We hike a couple of miles into the countryside for our cabin.”

“We have suitcases, not ruck-sacks.” Lewis said.

“Don’t worry Lewis, we leave everything in the car. You are about to return to a simpler time where the modern world doesn’t interrupt,and butt in on your life.” Melissa calmly claimed. “I know you expect this to be boring, but just how you pushed me to make the second jump, and I fell in love with something important to you. I know when you learn to let go, you will enjoy this too.”

Lewis pulled the keys from the ignition and got out of the car. He was interrupted from closing the door by Melissa. “We don’t take anything of ours into the retreat can I have your cellphone, oh and the keys to unlock the glove box so we can pop our cell phones in?”

“Can we change clothes at least? I am a bit sweaty from driving in these, and what about our under wear for three days?” Lewis asked, while handing the keys, and his cell phone over. The warm dry Arizona air greeted Lewis. The snow and coldness was only visible on the tops of the far low mountains they’d driven from nearly three days ago.

“They provide simple clothes that won’t distract us from our meditation. You can get a shower here after we check in, if you feel sweaty. I plan to. Oh, be a dear and pop the trunk.”

“Hey, what’s with the back pack?” Lewis asked seeing Mel grab the small one from her suitcase.

“Just some feminine essentials, hair dryer, make-up, skin moisturizer, tampons.” Mel said while swinging it on to her back.

Sure enough after checking in and confirming cabin five for the next two nights, showers were indicated to be available. Lewis and Melissa were each given a towel, cloth laundry bag, pair of cotton socks, and a loose linen robe. His socks were plain white, and his robe was a brown colored one, while Melissa’s socks were pink and her robe was an off-white color like the bags.

“If you leave your wallet and car keys, we will lock them up here for you, and return them when you check-out.”Cynthia stated. “After your shower, please leave all your clothes in a linen bag, and we will have it laundered and ready for you when you’re leaving.”

Lewis bemused turned toward the showers only to be interrupted by Cynthia. “You locked up all personal items like phones in the car, yes?” After the nods she continued.“Except for shoes, you take nothing of your current life with you. This will allow you to be able to relax, and find your true self without any distractions.” Lewis figured he would wait for the other shoe to drop. He was getting a bit cynical on what this retreat was all about. Further, he might not be allowed anything from his current life, but Mel had a small bag full. The throwing out comment of a specific product was obviously made to shut him up.

The wide opening to the showers had a partition wall in the middle, splitting the opening. So the ‘Men’s’ and ‘Women’s’ were like large cubicles of the same single restroom. The one partition wall was the only cubicle wall. Thus on the rear wall where four shower heads were positioned,there was about an inch gap to the partition wall, enabling a person to peek at the other four shower heads for females to use. The lowered shower area ran the full length of the rear wall with merely the cubicle partition wall to split the males from the females.

Said partition was like a public restroom with a near two foot opening at the floor below the partition, and open to the ceiling above. So if a person crouched down, or jumped up, they could look at the opposite gender taking showers, or using the open loos. These Lewis saw were lined up facing the showers. Heck, if you walked to the support posts you could peer through the near inch gaps between each partition wall and respective support post. Or crawl beneath and be in the women’s.

The sounds of Mel’s shower starting reminded him to get a move on. Thankfully there was no one else in the restroom. Lewis didn’t think it would be nice to be taking a shower while another guy was sitting taking a dump opposite him. The final wall had a urinal and a couple of sinks. It was mirrored above the sinks, because they obviously wanted everyone to be on display. There were no cubicles or shelves for the placing your change of clothing. Thankfully, closest to the opening of the communal restroom, there were some hooks he could hang the towel,and stuff on. He propped his boxers at the top of the laundry bag so he could easily get to re-wear them after the shower.

The shampoo that dispensed from the wall mounted unit had a flowery smell he wouldn’t normally use. He watched the washed off soap suds from Mel’s shower float with the water under the partition wall and around his feet before finally ending up at the drain. His own joined it when he rinsed his head and he stared bemused at the concept.

He had been interrupted from drying when Melissa told him to use the conditioner too. So Lewis hung up the damp towel and took a second shower while hearing Melissa drying her hair. The delays meant that he was just wrapping on the robe when Melissa popped her head in to his section.

“Just wear the robe. Leave your boxers in the laundry bag.”

“Melissa, this is getting rather odd. Is there any more weird clothing I am going to find myself stuck with?”

“Well there will be clean socks and robes you can change into, but they all look the same. Unless you’re wanting to wear the shorter version I’m wearing.” Melissa joked. “I doubt it would close, and I know its length would provide everything to be on view.”

“Phew, with the odd separation from all my stuff, the flowery shampoo, and you telling me to use conditioner… I was beginning to worry.” Lewis said.

“Oh, you thought it was some weird force a man to meet his feminine side.” Mel smirked.“It is to remove you from distractions, not to challenge your manliness. Of course the shortest robes and smallest socks are pink so short guys with little feet could feel challenged.”

Melissa suddenly snorted. “Though I’ve never seen a guy wear a pink robe or socks. Actually men shorter than me often wear a robe that’s a lighter brown than yours. It is between our robes in length. So I guess men are fairly easily pushed out of their comfort zone.”

“I am glad my paranoia is unfounded.” Lewis stated while tying his robe closed after placing his boxers with the rest of his clothes. “I know we’re a lot hotter during the day in Arizona, but it’s going to be pretty chilly at night with the limited clothing.”

“Trust me, you will need the cold air to feel better after leaving the sweat lodge and the cabins are really warm and cozy. Are there any other complaints or concerns?”

Lewis, needing something to pull Mel’s leg over joked. “Is there some elitism over height, with the color coded robes?”

Melissa laughed. “If there was, you have the robe for the tallest people, so you shouldn’t feel discomfort. I don’t know whether to laugh at your absurd worries, or be concerned in your lack of trust in me.”

Lewis grinned, to let Mel know he was joking. “But, what if the elitism was to the little people.”

“Hush you! Let’s get going.” Mel giggled while whacking his shoulder.

“The shuttle bus, just radioed in that they got stuck in traffic so instead of getting here shortly. They might not get here for an hour or two.” Cynthia informed them as they dropped off their linen bags of laundry. “Oh, and bow to your superiors too tall people.” Lewis realized Cynthia was wearing the shortest pink robe, and had overheard them. They both laughed and Lewis bowed, while Mel curtsied.

“I know the trail, Cynthia. I’d rather get to camp than wait here. I wasn’t planning on waiting anyway.” Mel said. “Come on honey.” As she crossed the room Lewis suddenly realized that beneath the thin robe, Mel was naked, and Cynthia too. As the bottom edge of Mel’s robe swung up high on her thigh, he realized that without boxers it might be easy to see his excitement, and turned away from Cynthia. As she gave him a knowing smirk Lewis realized he hadn’t turned fast enough. He exited through the held open door blushing, hoping Mel didn’t notice.

“Mel you did say ‘large’ earlier.” Cynthia called out from behind. When Mel looked at his crotch that hadn’t managed to shrink it was game over as it swelled in the pride of knowing his girlfriend had talked about it. Mel just gave Lewis a huge Cheshire grin, waved to Cynthia, and started out on the trail.

“Won’t you need a sports bra?” Lewis asked, trying to recover.

“Don’t you like knowing I’m naked beneath this thin wisp of cloth? I know one part of you that does.” Melisa, grinned while teasing Lewis. He didn’t need to know that she was wearing a new set of underwear and had five more sets in the back pack she wore.

“Oh, I like. I just thought that you said it could be painful to exercise without one.” Lewis floundered.

“We are just casually strolling to camp and will be meditating and relaxing in sweat lodge and using the hot tubs. Bras aren’t needed as long as I don’t have to run, or do work.” Mel said, while swinging her head so her hair swirled out. It also caused her robe to tease him with a good shot of her upper cleavage. Not enough for her demi-cup bra to be visible though.

“So we use the Jacuzzis in the nude?” Lewis asked, warming up to this vacation.

“Yep, and we often go nude in the sweat lodge too. Don’t worry, you are larger than average so have no need to be embarrassed.” Mel comforted after popping the ‘p’ in the ‘yep.’

“I might be concerned about getting excited.” Lewis interjected, while also getting jealous realizing that as his girlfriend said she had come here often she was obviously used to looking at, and had seen many other men’s equipment. Worse those men had seen his girlfriend nude.

“Most women will take it as a complement, as long as you don’t go all hound dog, and ogle them.”

Lewis looked out at the countryside trying to calm himself, and regain control of his body. It was beautiful, and maybe he might find this to not be as boring as he had originally thought. “You know if you had emphasized the clothing I might not have put up so much of a fight.”

“Oh, so if I had said you would see naked women, you wouldn’t have pushed me out of a perfectly good airplane at fourteen thousand feet?” They grinned and kissed. Melissa’s hand slipped under his robe and grabbed him. “See aren’t you happy to wear only the odd robe now?” She quickly ran ahead to stop Lewis from finding she wasn’t as naked as he thought she was.

“We’re going to need another shower.” Melissa said, while throwing the robe over her sweat coated body. As the rest of the three day group were going to be at least another hour behind them, and those that were already here were currently in a sweat lodge meditation cycle. Something they apparently couldn’t interrupt mid event. The two had spent a fun time in their cabin exploring each other’s bodies and swapping bodily fluids.

However, in less than half an hour there would be the first detox lunch. This usually followed the initial meet and greet, but that part of the schedule had been scrapped. Mel was fairly sure Lewis was fine with what she had swapped into place instead.

“Come on get your robe on, and bring a towel. There will be new robes in the showers. We need to get a shower before the guests in the sweat lodge finish. They’ll want a shower before lunch.” Mel said and opened the cabin door, without bothering to tie her robe closed.

Lewis quickly jumped away from the open doorway, grabbing his robe and a towel.

“Come on slow poke.” Mel said whilst walking away. “You don’t know where the showers are.” Lewis jogged after, fumbling the tie and quickly caught up.

The camps shower room didn’t even bother to have a partition dividing it into two different gender sections. There were though thankfully cubicle walls around the loos, but the urinals were open, and the six shower heads ran along a tiled lowered drain area with no partitions or shower curtains.

“Wow group co-ed showering.” Lewis exclaimed. “I’ve never showered with five others at the same time before.”

“Oh, we shower in larger groups than six in here. Some can soap up while waiting for water.” Mel replied cheekily while wrapping her hair up, and clipping it with some kind of hair slide. “Can you rub soap on me while I wash your hair?”

“Wash our hair again?”

“Well just yours. It is good to get some decent shampoo and conditioner to feed your hair, as you don’t take the best care of it.” Melissa said, but grabbed Lewis’s shampoo coated hand, and placed it on her boob to reduce the barb of her words.

Lewis was busy massaging Mel’s body, and enjoying the feel of her hands kneading into his scalp when the guests who had finished their time in the sweat lodge entered. Even though Lewis had made love to his girlfriend twice, scant minutes earlier, seeing two pretty naked young girls join them caused him arousal. Smirks, and comments from the three older women, and jabs from the three blokes had him blushing scarlet.

“Hey don’t worry about it. First time yes? Names Rob.” One of the guys said holding out a hand that a bemused Lewis shook. There then followed a surreal twenty minutes as the group introduced itself to one another with everyone naked getting showered. Lewis knew he couldn’t let Mel know he only remembered Rachel and Zoe’s names. The two girls he had strongly reacted to.

It was especially essential to ensure she didn’t find that out, when he later discovered they were both still in high school on spring break. Seniors to be sure, but even if eighteen that still meant they were school kids, unlike Mel and his twenty-three years and being Uni. students. The girls were cousins that helped out at the resort, Zoe being the owner’s daughter.

The other six had checked in for the five nights or full week camp. Four of the six adults were older couples than himself and Melissa, likely in their thirties. The last two men were single, and most likely in their late forties. Both of the older men were very hands on, with the young cousins. They also spent a lot of time checking out Mel. Lewis knew it was only him being present that stopped them being as hands on with Mel.

Apparently seven people had checked out this morning. The retreat ran two, three, or five-night and full week packages. Those on the five-night package shared their vacation with one of the two-night groups and the three-night group. The weekly in addition to that also got their first day with the last day of a fourth group of people, and their last day with the first day of yet another group.

Lewis was bemused that in a reverse of established marketing where usually the weekly rate caused the nightly rate to be reduced, apparently mixing up with several other groups of vacationers was enough incentive to make the five night and weekly packages substantially more. Later Lewis will think he should have been more concerned on what that implied.

Fourteen-year-old Douglas often feels his twin gets the better of him in their deals. The latest has him trying to ensure he doesn't lose his twin's U15 soccer teams good birth into their playoffs. Their step-mum caught them trying to swap, where Douglas would do his twin's detention. So now he is playing soccer for the first time this year. Of course neither his step-mum or step-dad know this, because they thought it was Douglas's U15 soccer team. Breanne is on the girl's field hockey team.

Out Centre
By Fallen Leaf - Playing in Lilith Langtree’s The Center

Chapter 1

Douglas cursed as he was subbed back into the game, but at the position his twin loved. It was his twin’s fault he was stuck playing soccer too. He thought he had managed to salvage the problem when he had begged off as starting striker by informing the coach he was a bit under the weather and would prefer midfield. Up until the last fifteen minutes it was working too. They had been up one – nil, and the coach decided to rest both Douglas and Michael for next week’s game. Michael the relief striker had never played a full game and had been running on fumes, and Mark the team’s third and last striker had just been injured.

That was bad enough, but for reasons unknown the whole team had stopped playing and they were now down two to one. So with less than five minutes of game time he needed to score a goal. Scoring a goal would be hard enough for his twin, but for him even more so, as he never had managed to score a soccer goal in game time before. So there was no pressure, yeah, right.

The U15 league they were in had no overtime and a draw was all they needed to enter the preferred post-season bracket. A loss and they would have a short week, and have to travel instead of getting a game with home field advantage. Other than private practicing with his twin he hadn’t played soccer in nearly a year. At the beginning of this year’s season they had started to pretend to be each other during school sports time and Saturday game time, to enable Breanne to play the sport she had preferred. During their personal practice he would set up his sister, thus why he had weaseled into midfield. It had worked too, getting him an assist on Michael’s goal. He had figured he had enough skill to hopefully get away with no one noticing a different person was playing. Rather ironic if his step-parents realized the twins had been swapping places now when he was actually playing as himself.

Both of them were watching too, verses only one, due to his sister being in detention. Normally the other step-parent would be with him, pretending to be Breanne, at the other school field. He had agreed to cover Breanne’s detention but their step-mum had caught them as they started the swap. She thought he was being coerced into taking his sister’s detention and had angrily demanded to know how he could think to jeopardize the team’s post-season chances as obviously Breanne, who hadn’t played soccer in nearly a year, would be rusty. In realty he was the one that was rusty, in addition when they were in the U14 league he had played midfield to his sister’s striker. She was the more aggressive twin, and furious that girls couldn’t play with boys after thirteen.

Sure he played left center striker for Breanne, but with both wings, the girls hockey team played with four strikers, whereas the soccer coach rarely played two strikers as their coach only had three. Breanne thrived on being a glory hound. Douglas was more willing to set-up and assist another to get the glory. Even if by doing so, it meant more running and harder work.

“Get out there Douglas! Get us the goal we need!” he heard his step-dad yell as he ran onto the field.

Most kids at school did a double take when he referred to the second parent with the prefix of ‘step’. That would lead into the depressing tale of his birth mother’s death shortly after delivering the twins. This then followed by the car crash that killed their birth farther, prior to their step-mum of just over a year returning to Australia with them when they were eight. Nearly two years later they had a step-dad and only step-grandparents. Their three grandparents in the US had failed to stop their step-mum from taking them out of the country losing guardianship. They had been too busy fighting each other to realize they might want to rally around a common enemy. Then again Douglas thought that might have been the best thing as his step-mum was better than two of the US grandparents. He also couldn’t really complain about his step-dad and step-grandparents.

He missed his Grandma though. His Mum’s mum who had practically raised the twins and the person they would have happily called Mum but didn’t, because they knew she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to usurp her daughter that had given her life for the twins. Their birth Dad’s divorced parents were self-centered and no great loss to the twins.

As he ran up the field the crowd's noise brought Douglas out of his internal musing and back into thinking how he was doing as the striker in these final minutes of the game. The stress of being found out mounted and was likely the reason for him feeling so sick. He’d missed badly to the left, which only saving grace came from hitting a defender prior to going out, resulting in a corner. However, the corner was cleared, and in his other near shot on goal he lost the ball to a defender’s tackle that his sister would most likely have beaten. So that was a goose egg from the prior two chances. With the minutes ticking by and their opponent concentrating on defense it was unlikely he would get many, if any more shots on goal. Stumbling with a shot of pain that cramped his stomach and made him hobble his stride, he groaned. Not again, the stumble had slowed him down just enough so it looked like a defender would get to the cross from his right wing, before him. But, in the next moment the defender stopped moving.

Douglas forced himself to battle through the pain taking the three paces needed to get to the cross and trap the ball with his left foot. He thought he had contacted with too much force and was expecting to see the ball shoot too far right before he could get his right foot to it. However, within moments of shooting off his left foot the ball miraculously stopped dead. With the ball only slightly right of where he wanted it, he looked at the last defender and goal keeper. Due to the defender that had been running in from the left stopping, there was an open section of the goal just left of center. Kicking with the outside of his right big toe he walloped the ball at the gap with a line drive that added minimal air. He became more confused as neither defender nor goal keeper moved to attempt to fix their errors as with body leaning forward he finished the follow through of the kick.

Momentarily wondering if he had missed hearing the whistle he glanced over his left shoulder to see no one behind him moving. It wasn’t going to count he must have missed a whistle. He was clearly onside though, and couldn’t think what was being called. Returning to look at what he was sure was a goal he was boggled to see the ball floating a few inches off the ground about five feet in beyond both himself and the defender. Before he could query what was going on the ball suddenly shot forward toward the left hand goal post. With a wicked curve to the right at the last moment it pounded into the net of the goal, and movement, noise and the prior absent breeze roared back to life. Searing pain roared up both his legs and his neck screamed in agony as if it had just suffered through whiplash. Then as instantly as the acute pain arrived it was gone, and he felt so great, he wondered if he had actually imagined the pain.

Thankfully after the ball was kicked off following the successful goal there was only a bit of kicking the ball back and fro’ until the final whistle was blown. The thankful qualifier because Douglas was too confused to do much of anything as he replayed in his mind the weird goal he had just scored. He was glad, as team and coach congratulated him on saving the game. Relieved that he hadn’t let Breanne down, as he knew she would not have stopped giving him grief if he hadn’t played well enough for the team to even tie. Ecstatic that he hadn’t been found out for swapping places with his twin, and thankful with the stress gone that he was no longer feeling the pain of before.

“Way to go champ! That was a real beaut’!” his step-dad ruffled his hair.

“Great goal! You were really good at the end there.” His step-mum stated, and drew him into a hug. “So where d’you want to eat? We’ll go there after picking your sister up.”

Following his step-parents, Douglas left the school’s field and headed for the school buildings. With their eyes no longer on him, and the game over, he mulled over what had happened during the game. Had he imagined it? What the heck was that? He glanced back at the goal as if looking at the playing field would provide answers. Unfortunately none were gleaned from the look.

“Hey well done, Douglas!” Alan called out as they got closer to the school buildings where a few groups of students and parents were milling about whilst others were getting into cars and joining the line of cars jockeying to leave the school’s parking lot.

“Of course you’re all happy. Wait ‘till I get to talk to your sister. Our season is over!” Leah moaned barely giving a glance to Douglas as she passed them following her family, swinging her sports bag, with her hockey stick handle sticking out. She swung her bag to the other hand as she passed them.

Douglas watched her leaving and his euphoria of the goal collapsed. Great as usual Leah didn’t really notice him, and knowing his luck she will chew out Breanne for getting detention when he has swapped places with his twin. Then again maybe not, with their season over he didn’t need to be Breanne, so perhaps his twin would get the yelling she deserved for not being available for the game. It would be nice for a change if the swapping didn’t seem to only cause inconvenience for Douglas.

The main reason he had accepted swapping places with Breanne was so he might have a chance to get to know Leah. When he pretended to be Breanne she at least did notice him.Unfortunately it was more a competitive, nearly argumentative relationship where he was usually on the back foot not knowing what his sister had said to her earlier in the day that had her so wound up against him. It probably didn’t help that as she played the other center they were forced into a dynamic of competition.

“Come on Douglas. Let’s get the car while your mum signs the jail bird out.” His step-dad said, interrupting Douglas’s wool gathering, also getting his attention to follow him to their car. “So how about Mick’s?”

Douglas thought about it and figured it was a reasonable choice. It would make his step-dad happy and slightly annoy Breanne. “Sounds good.” He replied while wondering if his sister whom had not been burning calories would get something fried. He knew she hated the boiled options, and the Irish Pub, as his sister quoted, only fried or boiled food. Making you choose between unhealthy and un-tasty. Urban myth stated it was un-tasty, as their idea of boiling is a huge multi gallon pan of boiling water that leaches the flavor from respective orders being dunked and scooped out for serving. She would then swear that they boil their salads. That, but of course is patently untrue, for Douglas knew that they obviously quick fry and freeze those. How else could they be so tasty and not destroy the whole tasty food is fried moto.

Douglas smirked at Breanne’s groan when they arrived at Mick’s. The smirk to ensure she knew that it was to annoy her that he chose the place. Well one of the reasons anyway. The place was fairly crowded. It was a typical Saturday later afternoon rush of mainly families getting a late lunch or early dinner. Douglas noticed a few kids from his school and Breanne headed off to a table where her friend, Nicole was sitting, stealing a couple of Nicole’s fries as she sat at their table. He continued with his step parents following the hostess to their own table, not seeing anyone he really called a friend around.

As they turned a corner, Douglas failed to notice John sticking a leg out from his seat to trip him. Surprised he fell forward and instinctively raised his arms to absorb the forward fall then realized he wasn’t falling, but hanging unbalanced at the midpoint of the fall with all of the restaurant noise cut off. Looking around he saw no one was moving. It was exactly the same as what had occurred during the soccer match. This time he knew that it wasn’t due to a missed whistle. Somehow time had stopped. As panic threatened to overwhelm him a crazy thought caused him to snort back a laugh. Namely if time was off taking a breather maybe he should take a load off and ignore the reason for a panic attack. If it re-started he wouldn’t need to worry anymore, and if it didn’t well he obviously wouldn’t be rushed by time to find out a solution.

It only left him with the problem of how to recover. Was he frozen too? No he was thinking, and had moved his head to look around the restaurant. Feeling really odd he lifted the one of his feet that had been trapped by John’s leg, he slammed his foot down on John’s ankle then stepped over it and then walked around to the side of his step dad so no one was anywhere near John. It was weird not only did time stand still but it would appear that he could choose which fundamental laws he desired to still be active while time was taking a breather. As until he removed his trapped foot he had been hanging outstretched and unbalanced in mid-fall. From which while hanging in the air and giving gravity a raspberry he was able to move his trapped leg and not worry about the unbalanced sections of his anatomy having to also follow the rules. Now he was safely positioned, how did he get time to start once more he wondered?

Douglas realized that time had restarted when he heard John yell in pain. “Fu… Douglas you twit! You might have broken my leg!”

“He is nowhere near you. Also the only reason for you to have your leg so far out into the aisle is to try to trip someone. I bet you rushed too late sticking your leg out to try to trip Douglas and rolled your ankle.” Douglas’s step dad defended Douglas, wrapped his arm around him, and drew him away from John’s table. While daring John Senior to disagree. It appeared that the son was just like his father and he wasn’t going to let the idiots ruin their family time. With neither John having a comeback the Parson’s continued to their table and early dinner.

It was rather ironic but Douglas nearly managed to find a further way for the steps to work out about the swapping when he ordered without thinking. Well actually he had been thinking.He had recalled the stomach pains of earlier and thought to order light to appease the upset stomach. Of course normally the Saturday meal after a game was played he would still be Breanne and ordering a salad and forgot he was not Breanne. Breanne would happily be ordering a half pound of grease with cheese, bacon, fries and a leaf of lettuce as a token vegetable to mop the lard with. He actually enjoyed the salads here and was left with confused steps and an angry sister that hissed into his ear that if he had ordered correctly he could have still had his bloomin’ salad, when she switched with him.

Douglas felt shards of pain in his gut and struggled to get to the ball that had been passed from his right wing. The pain in his stomach became so unbearable he just wanted to roll up into a ball but he must get to the ball before the defender. His legs were shooting beams of pain back up to his torso and he had to lean on his hockey stick to stop himself from collapsing. If he didn’t get moving he would let the defender get to the ball and miss his chance to getting the needed goal. His sister would never let him live it down.

Pushing off on his stick he somehow was able to now be in front of the ball and the defender coming in from the left had stopped. The goal keeper was also stopped too far right leaving the left side of the goal open for his shot that he swung his hockey stick to drive into the soccer ball.Soccer ball? Looking at himself he was wearing Breanne’s field hockey uniform but he was on the soccer field. The defender and goal keeper were in boys soccer uniform. They had frozen because of being startled seeing Douglas in drag complete with hockey stick on the boys soccer field.

The football barely moved five feet as the hockey stick didn’t drive it as a kicking leg would have done. Suddenly Douglass could hear the crowd screaming “Look at the bloomin’ poofter!” and comments about “He’s wearing a skirt!” or “Have you ever seen girl’s legs on a boy!” Douglas couldn’t work out how he was suddenly dressed in the girl’s hockey uniform. While trying to escape the field he sees his sister running onto the field, “You should have let me play! You should have taken my detention! Now everyone knows you’re a girl!”

“What!” Douglas yelled while sitting up suddenly in his dark bedroom. Trying to turn on the lamp that was on the side table.He fumbled and knocked it off. Thank fully he was able to grab it before it even started to fall and placed it back down carefully. However, turning the switch didn’t turn it on. The bedside clock showed it was three-twenty-four in the morning. He had to get out of bed and shuffle to the door in the minimal lighting from the night sky and street lights that trickled in through his window. He nearly fell as he crossed the room as something felt wrong. Maybe the earlier stomach cramps were a precursor to getting sick as he felt dizzy and unbalanced.

Getting to the door he flicked the switch for the bedroom light, but it, like the lamp, didn’t turn on. There couldn’t be a power cut as his clock showed it to be still three-twenty-four. It was odd for both bulbs to have blown at the same time. Perhaps there was an earlier power surge or something. Anyway being up told him that he needed to visit the bathroom so he opened his door and quietly headed that way.

Douglas nearly cursed when the bathroom light also failed to turn on. He turned on the vanity mirror lights and the vent and when they didn’t turn on, figured there must be a power cut. Did his clock have battery back-up? Well he really needed to go, and as long as he didn’t close the door his eyes were more or less able to see in the half light from the landing window. Lifting the lid and seat to the toilet he then reached into his pajama bottoms for his member. As Douglas reached closer to his groin in ever increasing worry his hand finally brushed something just prior to the inside of his legs. The startling reaction to roughly and suddenly coming in contact with the nub sent numerous dichotomous feelings flying along numerous new nerves to his brain. He only just managed to stop himself from peeing all over the floor by clamping down hard, swiveling dropping pajama pants and squatting over the toilet with the seat he might have liked to sit on, up against his back. The pleasure of releasing the pee was unfortunately erased with the panicked concern of how his dick seemed to have shrunk inside his body.

Barely stopping himself from collapsing into the toilet he was startled by the bathroom light, vanity mirror lights and vent all suddenly turning on. Through the open bathroom door he could see his bedroom light was also now on too. He also could now see that his pajama top had two bumps beneath it. He had breasts! He also had released some pee onto the floor before he managed to get into the new position this body needed for that bodily function. Jumping first to turn off the vent before it woke someone, and then closing the door, he then finally cleaned up the mess on the floor and flushed the loo. As he calmed down enough to be able to pay attention to himself he realized he had wet his pajama bottoms a bit. So he took them off and looked at the new him, or probably more correct her, between his legs. What was he going to do?

His new breasts looked huge. How did Breanne hide hers when she pretended to be him? Breanne! She could help him look like himself so no one needed to find out. He detoured from going straight to Breanne’s room when he saw both his lamp and bedroom light needed turning off. Then realized he needed new pajama bottoms as his sister might just scream if he woke her up without bottoms on. Lastly he dumped his old pajamas into the linen basket and then quietly entered his sister’s room.

“Breanne! Wake-up” Douglas quietly pestered his sister.

“Douglas stop pestering me or I will get you in so much trouble!” Breanne half asleep, disgruntledly whined back.

“I have a huge problem! You need to help me Breanne!”

“I bloody well don’t have to help you with that!”

Out Centre 2
By Fallen Leaf - Playing in Lilith Langtree’s The Center

Douglas need's to enlist the help of his twin as she knows how to make herself look like him. Now he needs to learn how to do so to.

~o~O~o~

Chapter 2

Douglas figured he needed to get to the point. Much like tearing an ‘elasterplast’ off in one pull. There was hopefully less pain just getting it over with. He did need his sister’s help after all. “I’ve got breasts and a… I’ve got all girl parts!” Douglas quickly stated.

“What! I swear Douglas I am going to get you in so much shit for this!” Breanne still mainly asleep hissed while turning on the bedroom lamp and turning on her brother…

“How the hell?” Breanne asked, while climbing out of bed and grabbing Douglas’s breasts. Causing her brother to step back and cover them protectively. “They’re real! Have you been wrapping them before? Have you been taking hormones too?”

“No, I just woke up with them, and I’m… well, a girl down there too.” Douglas hissed back.

“That’s not possible it takes months to years for tits to grow that big. You’re bigger than me!” Breanne declared not comprehending the second part of Douglas’s reply, because she over-reacted to the impossible first part.

“Breanne, I have not been growing these. I went to sleep a boy and woke up… I woke up a complete girl. I need to know how you hide your breasts when you pretend to be me.”

Breanne looked at Douglas having finally completely woken up. “What do you mean, ‘a complete girl’?”

“I mean I have girl parts between my legs. My dick is gone!” Douglas stated then sunk onto the bottom of Breanne’s bed. Somehow admitting it was gone took all his fight from him. “Now can you tell me how to hide this from our steps?” Breanne of course had to verify the ‘complete girl’ statement, and Douglas couldn’t even develop enough energy to care. I mean they were both girls now. What was the reason to worry about his sister seeing something she was infinitely more familiar with already? Hey, and if he was lucky maybe she could prove him wrong from his current despair. Unfortunately luck wasn’t with him.

“Douglas, I am a lot smaller than you up top. You are not going to be able to hide your boobs as easily as I can hide mine. Anyway I still have to play soccer in the league’s playoffs, and I am better than you at soccer.”

“Yes I could do without any more nightmares of having to play soccer in your hockey uniform.” Douglas added, and then seeing Breanne’s quizzical look added, “Don’t ask!”

“Fine; I won’t.” Then after sighing, “We can’t have the steps stopping us swapping like our step-mum did today. I mean yesterday. So it is easiest if I become you, and you become me. I mean you become Breanne full time.”

“What!” Douglas yelled to be quickly shushed by his sister.

“Look I enjoy soccer, and want to see how good our team can do. The chest binding I am using can flatten my barely there breast buds so they don’t poke out through your T-shirts. It can’t hide yours as easily. I think my training bras will be too tight but let’s see you try them on.”

At which point much to Douglas’s surprise, Breanne took her nighty off and picked up Douglas’s pajama bottoms and pulled them on. Completely indifferent to showing her naked body to her brother.

“Douglas, I don’t have anything, you don’t now, have. You are going to have to get used to seeing vaginas now, seen as you have one. Anyway see how much smaller my breasts are compared to yours.” Breanne brazenly commented then still topless walked over to her dresser and opened the second-down-right-hand drawer. Reaching to the back she pulled out a plain white piece of spandex type material that looked sort of like a too small ribbed T-shirt that had its top cut off so there were no arm holes. She pulled it over her head and arms, and positioned it to cover her breasts. Breanne then reached back into the drawer pulled out a second, and threw it at Douglas. “Here try this on, and you’ll see what I mean.”

Douglas initially struggled, and thankfully accepted his sister’s help after she had put his pajama top on. Once it was on he felt extremely uncomfortable. The annoying discomfort of the material compressed tightly against his newly sensitive nipples wouldn’t be too bad, as too the tightness from breathing in too deeply. However, the pain filled feeling of his breasts being squashed into his ribs was not something he could ignore. Further, unlike his sister that now looked like he did last night when he had put on his pajamas. His breasts were still obviously poking out, and would be noticeable unless he was to wear a thick sweater as well as a shirt. As the boys’ school uniform was a thin V-neck sweater he couldn’t hide his breasts and appear to be a boy, where Breanne could. She could look like a boy with a thin T-shirt over the compression torture device.

Douglas was much happier, and gleefully gasped in a few deep breaths after getting the torture device off. Unfortunately his sister had a new torture device to have him try, ‘bras’.

“Okay I won’t be able to help you in the morning to get dressed so let me show you how to try on my school uniform so you will be able to get ready on Monday, and also what to wear today dependent on what the steps decide we are doing this Sunday.” Breanne stated then closing the drawer opened the one above it, and grabbed out different underwear. She sorted it into standard girl panties and bras, more girly girl style undergarments and some boxer boy style underwear.

Over forty minutes later, and Douglas boggled at how he currently felt glad wearing his sister’s nighty. Something he was sure he would never be glad to be wearing before, but at least the too tight training bra, and more girly of the girls panties were off. Unfortunately, Breanne told him the boy style underwear was not for him. “I need to be Douglas, and I’m not wearing Douglas’s used skivvies. The rest of this underwear I’ve never worn. Our step-mum bought it, not me.”

He was so hoping the world would end before Monday so he wouldn’t have to wear the skirt, blouse and bright red satin ribbon tie that the girls’ school uniform consisted of. He could pretend the blazer was a jacket even if it buttoned oddly. It was the best part of the uniform and mores the pity, optional, thus normally not worn. Thankfully the beret was also optional except for special events. He wished he could wear the thicker grey boys’ shirt instead of the thin white girls’ blouse that did nothing to hide his new assets. Also how come the girls’ uniform didn’t have a grey V-neck sweater? No, it came with a thin bright red cardigan that didn’t even have buttons where they were needed, that is to close the thing over the female assets. The cardigan was like a photo frame saying ‘look here!’ It was odd to realize for the first time he wished he could wear the boys maroon tie, actually all of the boys’ uniform was preferable to wear.

Breanne pulled from the back of the third drawer a bottle of pills, and some boys’ vests, the bottle had been hid beneath. Taking the boys vests, and the boxers too, and picking up from the bed the compression tube she’d let him try on previously she said, “Well the rest of the clothes in here are yours. Goodnight Breanne.” With the chosen items of clothing she left for his bedroom that was no longer his.

“But, that means I will have your detentions…” Breanne had left though, and Douglas yet again realized he lost on the trade with his sister.

Breanne couldn’t believe what had happened. She entered her new bedroom and after turning on the light, closing the door, and throwing her items on her bedspread she threw both arms in the air and offered a silent yell as if she had just scored a goal. The yell was silent because she didn’t want her steps to wake up. Walking over to the window she closed the curtains wondering how her brother could change in a room with them open. Opening the drawers she pulled out Douglas’s undies and threw them on the floor before putting away hers. Feeling justified she swallowed one of her anabolic steroid pills before hiding the bottle. Hopefully the steroids would keep enabling her to develop muscle and stop her from developing any annoying girl secondary parts.

She had been imagining her brother disclosing he wanted to be a girl as the best cover for her to ensure she didn’t have to become a woman for nearly two years now. Somehow she would talk him into taking estrogen and they would swap places without anyone being the wiser. He had willingly agreed to play hockey so she could play soccer. Sure he was willing because he was interested in Leah Martins, the hockey team captain. But Breanne wouldn’t dress up as a girl just to catch a skirt. She justified he must be in denial. So he didn’t enjoy playing soccer, didn’t like being the center of attention, and found it hard to approach and start talking to a girl. Breanne just chalked those up as him being more of a girl than she was. She had no problem talking to boys or girls. Though she did hate the attention boys gave her, so rarely talked to them.

Before she had to get him to take the next step in her plan, he had somehow magically turned into the girl she always knew her brother could be. He’d agreed to let his hair grow a little long, while she kept hers as short as her steps would let her so they could easily swap places. Tomorrow she would go to the barbers and get a boys haircut. Something she’d always dreamed of getting. She looked around her room. She needed to get some posters on the wall. The room like her old one was too unisex. She needed to make it obvious that this was a boy’s room. Get some best buds too. She didn’t think Douglas even had a cool friend. In fact did he have friends?

With one more look around her room she noticed the pile of underwear. After quickly bagging the undies and sneaking outside to the trash to dump them, she got into bed and went back to sleep. Tomorrow would be the first day of her new life.

Breanne awoke to the curtains being drawn open and the sun invading. “Come on get up Douglas.” Her step-mum stated before leaving, and knocking on Breanne’s door across the hall.

As Breanne thought about how she disliked being called Douglas, she did have to admit that she now knew one thing she disliked about being a boy. It would appear that the common courtesy of knocking on her door was awarded her because she was a girl. She’d need to change that, as the last thing she needed was one of the steps walking in while she was undressed.

As she got her shower she thought about the name issue. Douglas was correct to not use his middle name of Marcel as she was sure to be teased with that, but she didn’t want to use Douglas seeing as she thought of that as her wimp brother. Doug was too close. Mark though, that was enough different and at least a nod to her actual name. Happy she finished her shower, dried and dressed in boxers, boob covering and vest. Throwing the towel over a hook on the back of the door, prior to opening it, she then headed to her new bedroom to finish getting dressed.

Breanne sat down at the table and helped herself to cereal. “I was thinking of getting my hair cut.” She told her step-mum.

“About time.” Her step-dad said while reading the paper. “I think you would get a lot less problems like yesterday at Mick’s if you got a decent haircut. Are you actually going to cut it this time?”

She ignored the comment and poured the milk into her bowl. Her step-dad was busy reading so she felt she could get away with it. It was so nice to actually be expected to get her hair cut short anyway. So she grinned at her private victory.

“Oh Breanne, what are you wearing!” Breanne’s step-mum startled her and she was looking at her outfit to work out what was wrong before remembering she was no longer Breanne. She looked where her steps were looking, at her brother, and spit her cereal out.

“Good god sis! What the hell!” Breanne laughed at Douglas in his/her wardrobe disaster. Why had he thought braless would work with that baggy T-shirt. Sure it was loose and appeared to cover everything but when the light was on it, as it was with the sun shining through the breakfast bay-window, the shirt was practically see-through. She always wore it with both the compression vest and a normal vest. Then remembered she’d taken her compression and boys vests with her last night, and Douglas obviously hadn’t wanted to wear one of the more feminine camisole undergarments her step-mum tried to force Breanne to wear.

“Language Douglas!” her step-dad frowned at her.

Her step-mum quickly dragged Douglas from the room, and Breanne went back to her cereal. Her step-dad returned to his paper and silence was restored; well sort of. The shouting match between Douglas and their step-mum over what Breanne should wear was invading the breakfast nook, and obviously preventing her step-dad from getting into the paper. It would appear that Douglas was losing mainly due to his lack of female fashion knowledge.

A few minutes later their step-mum returned to the kitchen. “I’ll drop both of you at the salon in the mall. Then you can look in at the game store or something for a bit, as I am going to need to get some clothes for Breanne.” Then before her husband interjected, she added looking at him, “It is needed, I’ll explain later.”

“I figure I’ll just walk to the corner barber’s.” Breanne said. Internally giggling that her step-mum wouldn’t realize she knew that the later discussion would be about Breanne hiding the true size of her breasts. Would her step-dad stubbornly get too far into the conversation or heed the warning hints, and avoid getting stuck in the middle of that one? Poor Douglas would never be believed that the boob fairy dropped them off over-night. Now if she could only find out how he had become a girl, and if the reverse was possible?

“Oh, what happened to the twin solidarity of the same haircut to enable Breanne to have her short hair?” her step-mum inquired.

“As we are well into Spring, it’s getting hot and I feel like a change. I don’t enjoy all the extra work on having hair this long.”

Her step dad looking over the paper decided to interrupt. “Well then dear, why don’t you have a mother-daughter day at the mall with Breanne; and Douglas do you want to work on the roadster with me, after getting back from the barbers? If you give me a hand we should get it up and running, and we could take it for a spin.”

Breanne nodded, prior to turning to see Douglas scowling angrily at her from the doorway in the peasant blouse, she swore she would never wear, and a short faded jean skirt with her wide plastic black belt. A pair of open toe wedge sandals completed the outfit. The off white blouse had a dropped circular neckline with baby blue silk ribbon thread along the edge of the neck opening that then went “V” due to the fact it was supposed to be worn with the three buttons undone.

Of course Douglas had fastened them. Its short sleeves were puffed at the shoulders with a lacy over-sleeve that through its holes showed the silky sleeve beneath. Both inner and outer sleeves were reattached together with blue ribbon thread at their edge. The short sleeves were just covering three inches of the arms. It also had pale silver butterflies on the outer lace, and the necklines ribbon ended in a tied bow beneath the buttons. Beneath the blouse Douglas was wearing a pastel blue camisole vest and a white bra. It was her largest bra a true “A” cup verses the “AA” padded training bras, but it looked a little tight. Douglas was probably almost a B-cup verses her AA buds.

Their step-mum noticing Douglas quickly got up and undid the buttons. “There Breanne, I knew this blouse would look darling on you. You need to get a quick breakfast so we can get to the mall.”

“I want to go for drive in the roadster. I’ve been looking forward to it.” Douglas grumbled petulantly.

“Breanne, you can another day. It is only fair for Douglas to get the first ride though, as he has been working on the car with me for the last few months.” Their step-dad informed. Breanne smirked, this day just kept getting better.

“You are also in trouble young lady. After I talk with your father we will decide on your punishment. Now what do you want to eat, we need to get going.”

“I’m not hungry and I don’t want to go out in this!” Douglas stomped his foot and ran back to her room. Breanne shook her head. She would need to teach Douglas how to argue, or their steps will realize he isn’t Breanne.

Their step-mum placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder, who had thrown the paper down. She held him gently to keep him seated. “I’ve got it. I think I know what this is. I sort of have been expecting this. You know how teenage girls can become.” With that she left, and Breanne was left trying to look clueless and not bursting out into laughter at the hole, Douglas, her new sister was digging himself into. Judging by the look Breanne’s step-dad was giving her it would appear she hadn’t done a good enough job of looking innocent.

After washing up her cereal bowl she decided to quickly get out to the barbers so she had more time in the roadster to enjoy. Sure she could hear some of her step-mum and Douglas’s argument, but it wasn’t worth wasting time trying to listen in on. “Can I get some cash for the barbers?” She asked her step-dad.

“Say hi to Bob for me while you’re there.” Breanne’s step-dad requested while handing her some money. “Hurry back son.”

Breanne was chuffed, enjoying the walk there and back, and finally getting a short boy’s hair cut that had previously always been denied her. Even the veiled threats from John senior about what his son would do once his sprain was healed was fun to taunt back against. The fact he was in front of her in line for a haircut at the barbers didn’t have any chance to ruin this perfect day.

She had a great time insincerely worrying what would happen to his loser of a son if he actually tried anything against her. “I mean if his ankle is sprained while I was unaware, just think how many bones he will break if I take it upon myself to actually notice your son.” She had gleefully told him as she left the barbers, and the old fogey spluttering. She was done sooner due to her hair cut being faster than the attempt to coax hair to be sculpted over the bald patches that John’s barber had to attempt.

Getting home and even working on the roadster for nearly two hours didn’t yield her new sister and step-mum, from said sister’s first mother-daughter mall visit. Breanne had messed up handing her step-dad the wrong tool a few times, but felt she had managed to make him believe that it was due to distractions at school, and not that she wasn’t the son he thought she should be.

“So we should just check the fluid levels and we can take it for a spin. Douglas do you want to have lunch here, or can you wait, and we will grab a late lunch outside somewhere on the drive?”

“Let’s use the car and drive for lunch.” Breanne quickly answered. She could find out how bad Douglas’s day was tonight after the steps were asleep.“I want to make a change and am thinking of using ‘Mark’ as a nickname from shortening my middle name.”

“Well I think Mark that you are making a few good choices in the new you. Now does the windshield washer reservoir need filling?” Her step-dad queried and got her looking at the correct reservoir. Thinking his son as being extremely distracted when he had to show him where it was, but hey at long last he actually acted like a son.

Ellin takes her daughter, the one she thinks is Breanne, to the Mall.

~o~O~o~

Chapter 3

Ellin glanced across the car to her daughter in the passenger seat. Breanne, having been caught out for wrapping her breasts, was totally shaken. Her cloak of usually far too sure of herself confidence was stripped away. Ellin had never thought she could have got her daughter into the blouse she was currently wearing. She just had to take her to the jewelry store, and show her the earrings. They were clip on too. So she can let Breanne do her whole spiel on never getting her ears pierced, and then show her the dangling sliver and sapphire butterfly clip on earrings. Then Breanne will have a vested interest to wear this outfit again, as they go so well together.

Probably should start with clothes first. Move from the necessary, correctly fitted bras, on to matching panties? She’d probably not be able to go truly pretty there, unfortunately. Then tops as Breanne’s current outfits were too tight to wear. Hence, why Ellin had got her into the current blouse, as it was one of the loosest tops Breanne owned, that wasn’t ugly. Could she get her into dresses and skirts? She’d got Breanne to wear the denim skirt. That Breanne had not demanded to wear her usual jeans was quite surprising. Yes, Ellin thought she should likely be able to make ground there. She had a greater chance at that than being called Mum at least, unfortunately. She wasn’t too sure how to end that thought.

It hurt that both her children adamantly stuck to calling her step-mum. However, at least it wasn’t evil step-mum. She was determined to be the best step-mum ever. Well she could try. They’d saved her. Hopefully she could be good enough that they valued her as an acceptable step-mum one day.

Thinking back to where she was, when she first saw them, got her thinking of the past. Ellin was back in the American hospital. She was coming down from her latest drug induced escape. She was in one of those few and far between momentary lapses of normalcy. Down from the madness and fog of oblivion, but prior to the claws of drug withdrawal tearing her apart, and causing the sweats, and shakes. She’d run into the children’s ward by pure accident, in her intent to find an exit to escape into whatever U.S. city she was currently in. Thereby, escape the agents that were going to arrest her, and hold her for deportation. She knew now it was Baltimore, but then it was another city the band was playing in.

The band, boy did she ever mess up there. The concert to end all concerts, and her ticket out, rather than returning to ‘no-where-ville’, Northern Territory, as a college drop-out, prior to even finishing one semester. Well ‘no-where-ville' was appropriate, the closest place with a population of barely two hundred was Mataranka, and that was the height of civilization compared to actual home. Home, a lean-to-trailer, and less than half a rod of land to scratch some food out of in the middle of swampland, that came with all the poisonous and dangerous critters the Aussie outback could throw at you. Yes, back to the trailer-trash life, where she’d be lucky to be someone’s ‘Sheila’. The life that she’d fled to Darwin, to escape. Being one of the Jilkminggan school’s top students didn’t get her to stay out, it now seemed. Well one last bash before heading back. A few bands had actually chosen to come to Darwin. Darwin, population that had somehow finally exceeded one-hundred-thousand, one ‘huge’ city.

Ellin had landed the back-up bass guitarist for ‘The Schicks’. Yep the back-up’s back-up, score! Yeah right. Then again the lead bass scored a few girls, and didn’t take any with him back to the US. However, at least Brian put in the effort to get her a visiting visa, passport and paid for the flight out of ‘no-where-ville’. Then how did she repay that? When she thought she had a chance with the lead singer she’d jumped ship. He was just being a dick, or in need of using one, and she fell to being a band groupie. No longer any of the band's actual girlfriends. Brian had left the band too. A bad abortion ensured she couldn’t have children. Another reason to escape the world with drugs. To not admit the hell she was living.

The kids had left their psychologist, as she barreled around the corner, then slowed down to try to blend in. The Doctor was neither bad nor good, Ellin later found out. Unfortunately the grandmother was the client and she wanted the children to have grief counseling for losing their mother at birth. If their grandmother hadn’t spent time hammering the sacrifice her daughter made so the twins could live, they probably wouldn’t need counseling. Their mum died during child birth, and most likely just wanted her kids to be happy, rather than moping in depression of their mother’s death.

A comment from her son-in-law sent the grandma off, and as the grandmother screamed about the sacrifice her daughter made, Ellin knew the children needed help. Funny that when she pushed her effort into trying to help someone else, she finally was able to help herself. The drug withdrawal, a pain that could suddenly be ignored. Oblivion to hide in, not needed when two wounded kids needed her. She’d fallen in love with Marcell too, but that came later, and was more of an evolved mentor friendship than romantic fiery love. He wasn’t quite old enough to be her Dad, but it was closer than her being old enough to be the children’s mother. She was twelve years the twins senior, while he was fourteen, hers. The children always were what had got her though. Best drug treatment clinic ever. Their problems left no time for her to worry about her own.

She’d been all set to get Breanne into a girls’ soccer program. It was over beyond Parramatta though. So in the hope she could get her interested in the field hockey at North Rocks she’d pushed her into that first, and Breanne came alive on the hockey field. It really was like a completely different daughter. No longer was there a moody over aggressive, and competitive really mannish tomboy, suddenly there was a more excited, and actually alive girl thriving. Too bad the hockey season was over.

Her obvious interest in Leah Martins was tempered on the hockey field, and it seemed with organized interaction actually had a better chance of developing. Mary, Leah’s mum, had told her stories of her daughter pulling her hair out in despair. The young lady had confessed to her mum that she was positive she was a lesbian, and had said she could easily see herself in a relationship with the girl on the hockey field, but not the Breanne that shows up at school.

Leah did swimming and dance too. Perhaps she could find a way to get her into the same dance class? Carefully pulling into the mall parking lot, she decided she needed to call Mary, and let her know she was shopping in the mall with the Breanne that shows up on the hockey field.

Douglas was positive that he was currently in hell. He was loaded down with multiple store bags in both hands. Bags filled with girls’ clothing he despised. Well he figured he should modify that statement. The bags were filled with girls’ clothes that he would like to see being worn by other girls. Unfortunately they were going to be clothes that he would be wearing, and that was where the despising was coming in to play. His entire morning, and a good chunk of the afternoon had been wasted being dragged from store to store and forced to try on just about every style of female clothing known. He had only succeeded in two victories against what his step-mum wanted. She had won everything else and he now had clothes that he knew Breanne would never have worn before, as they were too girly for his tomboy twin.

He also now knew things he had never wanted to know or be. He was apparently just shy of a 28B cup up top. In two things bought he was a junior size four, nearly a third of his purchases were a size two, and then the weirdest size was for most of his new clothing that included a handful of unwanted skirts and dresses. For these he was a size zero, which just sounded nuts as a clothing size. He wondered for girls smaller than himself if there were negative numbers too? Otherwise what would those sizes be? He would have to ask Breanne. Further, how could his size vary so much between manufacturers? I mean they had to be using a standard didn’t they?

His feet had stayed the same size six that Breanne’s shoes were. Of course even saying that he had plenty of shoes back home, this didn’t stop his step-mum getting a few pairs more for the new outfits. His step-mum stated that those shoes, in Breanne’s closet, wouldn’t work with some of what they had just bought. Go figure.

His two victories were more won as he recalled how Breanne had stated she would never do them so he knew her arguments, having heard them so many times espoused by her before, and thus enabling victory now for him. He had loudly exclaimed in the jewelry store that having your ears pierced was just like a farmer tagging his cattle with ear tags to declare ownership, and he wanted to never have pierced ears. The jewelry store assistant actually came in on his side stating that for someone with such strong feelings against getting ears pierced, those feelings should be respected.

Unfortunately she still managed to agree that a pair of clip-on silver earrings that each had a dangling small silver butterfly with pale light blue sapphires mounted as both eyes and smaller ones in their wings were just perfect to go with the peasant blouse being worn and must be bought. Thus he currently kept noticing the pinch and swing as his head moved, and had to stop himself from accidentally reaching up and touching them. This was just another burden he found himself having to bear.

Douglas was sure that the commission from the expensive earrings obviously played into the associate championing Douglas’s right to not have his ears pierced. It was a poor consolation as he was still stuck not only with multiple girly outfits, bras, panties, but also wearing the pair of clip-on earrings that apparently matched his peasant blouse. Along with the earrings his second change to the outfit his step-mum had forced him to the mall in, was that he now was wearing one of his new bras that better fit his boobs than Breanne’s bra had. His boobs, well there was an expression he never thought he would be using, coupled with shopping for girls clothes and jewelry.

The other victory was against high heels. Again copying Breanne’s argument that she didn’t like the pressure on her toes, nor the way her body moved and would never wear them. Further, he would destroy any heels his step-mum bought by breaking the heels off and using the sharpest blade he could find in the garage to destroy the shoe, way before he ever got used to wearing the torture devices. Due to this he ensured no higher heels were bought other than those with at most one inch wedge heels, like the sandals he was currently wearing. So he had kept it down to five pairs of new un-needed shoes, and three of the sets were flats.

“Hey Breanne, nice blouse.”

“Breanne!” Douglas’s step-mum tugged his arm turning him, while telling him, “Your friend complimented you on your blouse. I told you that you looked good in it. I am so glad I finally got you to wear it.”

“Wow earrings too! I never thought I would see the day, Breanne.” Leah exclaimed. “You look really pretty.”

Douglas in embarrassment looked down at his feet. Could anything more go wrong? “They’re clip-ons. I will never get my ears pierced.”

“What, not even for me?” Leah asked and Douglas was speechless. “Well even if clip-ons, they match the outfit, and I think they’re the first pair of earrings I’ve ever seen you wear. This is the prettiest you’ve ever dressed. I always despaired at your prior casual clothing. I swear if it wasn’t for the school uniform, and hockey I would never see you in a skirt.”

“Breanne, why don’t you spend some time with your friend? I’ll take the bags filled with your new style in outfits to the car.” His step-mum just had to emphasis the victory in getting him new girly outfits. He had failed completely in stopping his step-mum in feminizing Breanne’s look.

“New outfits! Let me see,” and Leah was diving in to the bags.

Of course after holding two summer dresses against Douglas and declaring how she wished she could have been here to see her in them she stumbled upon the new bras. “Oh I thought you looked different.” Leah declared while staring at Douglas’s chest. She still seemed to be able to see his boobs even when Douglas covered them with both arms in shamed embarrassment.

“Leah, why don’t you come home with us, and Breanne can show to you the new style she has bought. Douglas is likely to be out with his dad. So we can have a girl’s day, okay?” Douglas’s step-mum quickly changed the subject to gloss over how Breanne had been obviously wrapping her breasts to look smaller before. Also she saw how embarrassed and shy Breanne looked around her friend Leah. There was mutual interest too, and more important the dominant male mannerisms were absent. If it took her daughter being interested in another girl to jump-start her development out of tomboy, then she was going to find ways to ensure Leah was around more often. This might be the only hope she had to keep a daughter.

“I’m hungry, and I am not playing dress up anymore today. Also I deserved to go out with the roadster. I spent hours working on it.”

“Breanne, I don’t think you worked on it once. Definitely nothing compared to the time Douglas spent helping Dad on it. Why don’t I pop everything in the car while you treat Leah at the food court? I will meet you there in about an hour or so. I have a couple of things I want to get done.” Without waiting for Douglas to agree she handed him some money and left with the bags.

Leah waited to ensure they were alone and then pounced. “Okay Douglas, spill. What the hell is going on!” Leah exclaimed.

“What… I am Breanne!”

“Yeah right! No, I know you’re Douglas and not Breanne. Are you transitioning?”

“What?”

“Have you finally realized you should have been the girl twin, and Breanne the boy? Or are you just experimenting with being a girl?” Leah asked. After waiting and realizing that obviously Douglas needed some prodding she continued. “Look Douglas, I’ve run interference all year so no one else on the hockey team worked it out, but I figured it out fairly early on. It’s pretty obvious when I am interacting with two people that are both interested in me...”

Douglas gasped and tried to leave, but Leah held his arm too firmly while changing tracts and trying to not be quite so aggressive.“Douglas, you are not as forceful as your sister. So I know that you, and your twin swap places at times. The only reason I never said anything was because I knew Breanne would never play hockey, and you made our team so much stronger.”

Though Douglas quickly latched onto the fact that it appeared Leah had a vested interest to keep things quiet, he still felt he could muddy the water and pretend to be Breanne. It definitely helped that he was now a real girl. “Leah, I must act differently at different times without knowing. But I am Breanne, and I play hockey. I am not my brother Douglas. He plays soccer.”

“Douglas, I don’t mind. I actually think that you make a better girl. I am okay with you being on the team while transitioning. The breasts are amazing they really look real.” Leah then grabbed Douglas, and as he shot away from her obviously conflicted, Leah was momentarily confused. Those breasts felt real.

“What the hell, Leah! Shall I just grab yours?” Douglas said trying to work out how Breanne would act.

“Do you want to?” Leah asked and as Douglas blushed she pounced. “I knew it. You are Douglas. Breanne wouldn’t have blushed. She would have likely tried to help herself to that offer. Are you actually both girls? What the hell is going on, Douglas?”

“Call me Breanne.”

“No, that is your sister.”

“Well she is being me currently, so I would appreciate you calling me Breanne.” Douglas stated.

“I’ll call you Bree, if you honestly tell me what the hell is going on. Are you both girls?”

“Currently, yes.”

“Come off it! I asked for honesty! You don’t suddenly change from being a boy to a girl the next day.”

“Um, that’s about what happened.” Douglas admitted.

“What! Explain!” Leah demanded. So after ensuring they were still alone Douglas explained the three a.m. wake-up discovery, and Breanne’s decision to change places full time. He didn’t mention his problems with the lights and the weird problem he had with time, as he was still totally confused about those things. Then how having agreed to swap places with Breanne; He still was unsure how that happened. This then led to him being in trouble with the steps for Breanne’s binding of her chest. Coupled with Breanne getting out in the roadster while he was stuck in shopping hell explained his surliness. How it wasn’t fair considering he had worked on the roadster, but all the good things he had done were now awarded to Breanne. He would also now sit Breanne’s after school detention for the rest of the coming school week.

“So if you were a boy, why did you willingly dress as a girl and play hockey?” Leah asked.

“Breanne hates hockey and loves soccer, but both steps demanded she do a girls sport as she couldn’t keep playing soccer in the U15 boys’ league. I didn’t really want to keep playing soccer, and Breanne is better at it than me, and you play hockey…” Douglas gasped and looked at Leah stopping suddenly, realizing he might have said too much. Actually, there was no might about it. He’d said something he never intended to say.

“Seriously you were willing as a boy to dress as a girl just to be with me?”Leah watched Douglas’s blush and enjoyed the feeling of power. “You are so sweet! Thank you.” She grabbed Bree into a hug and started thinking how she should handle this. After a few minutes she swung away so Douglas wouldn’t see her grin. Having thought back her interactions and recalling how Douglas had looked yesterday in his soccer uniform versus the prior times. “You played soccer yesterday and Breanne went to detention. That’s why you were playing at midfield instead of striker?” Leah figured if she asked enough questions she would work out what was really going on. As if gender flipped while sleeping, did he really think she bought that?

“Yes, I prefer playing midfield, and our step-mum caught us trying to change places before the game.” Douglas answered.

“You really were a boy yesterday weren’t you?” Leah asked recalling how he had looked in his uniform. Of course he could have stuffed something in his pants too, but it was unlikely that parents would demand only one twin to act like a girl if they were both girls. So was Douglas in the process of transitioning and trying to pretend he was a girl down there? As Douglas only nodded she knew she needed to work out a way to get him talking so he tripped up some more, and thus enabling her to discover the truth.

“So you are saying that yesterday you were a boy, and now you are a girl.” Leah waited and after Douglas nodded continued. “So you’re fine with both of us going into the women’s bathroom and proving it to me that you are now a girl?” When Douglas cutely blushed almost crimson while nodding, Leah grabbed an arm again, and dragged him into the women’s restroom. Well if he was only going to nod she would have to get drastic to force him to confess. She would get to the bottom of this, and when she sees his thing she can use that to force Douglas to do something she figured. If he completed transitioning he could be a good girlfriend.

The lady touching up her make-up watched them in the mirror as Leah forced Douglas into the disabled stall and locked the door. Both eyebrows rose when she heard one girl tell the other that they didn’t believe them, and had to lift up their skirt to show it, for proof. Overcoming her initial embarrassment Marcy nervously called out. “Do you need help? I have my cell phone with me.”

Quickly thinking of a possible excuse having run through her mind what words she had obviously said a little too loudly. “No Bree’ told me she got a piercing, and I called her bluff.” Leah said through the door.

“Is that true Bree? You can tell me, and I will help you. You don’t have to show anything. Do you want to come out?”

As Leah constantly used eyes and head to indicate to Douglas to say something, he pulled in a nervous breath. “I don’t need any help. I am okay. Thank you for offering but I don’t want you to call anyone.” Douglas finally gambled out in a rather unconvincing scared voice. At the same time he nervously lifted his denim skirt.

“Bree is your Mum at the mall? Are you with anyone? I really want you to both come on out or I’ll call the police.” Marcy decided that the second girl sounded far too nervous to be a willing participant in the other girl’s actions.

While the conversation was occurring through the stall door Leah had pushed Douglas’s hands and skirt up higher. After boldly reaching in and pulling his panties to one side she had been shocked, and lost any train of the conversation having now seen Douglas’s vagina. He was a girl! She staggered back until she was pressed against the opposite partition wall. She was so sure that Douglas was a boy. Her parents must be evil to force one twin to dress as a boy, and name her with a boy’s name.

So it was actually Douglas who gained bravery due to his fear in the woman’s threat of calling the police, that adjusted her clothing, and unlocked the door. He quickly exited the stall leaving a stunned Leah in it. “See I am fine. You don’t need to call for help.” Douglas forced out hoping to stop this going really bad.

Marcy was completely confused by the shift in dominance between the pair of girls. Now concerned for the girl she thought to be the aggressor she stepped in and shook Leah’s shoulder gently. “What’s wrong?” Marcy asked.

Leah’s brain was failing to reboot. She kept seeing Douglas’s vagina appear as she moved his panties to one side after having hiked up his skirt. “But... it… there… has…” she mumbled.

Marcy of course drew the wrong conclusions from the snippets of conversation heard as to what Bree’s friend must have seen. That of course led to her being worried for Bree. “Bree how old are you?”

“Fourteen?” Douglas confusedly replied, sounding more like asking a question.

“Does you Mum know you are pierced down there?” Marcy asked Bree, assuming the shock of seeing Bree’s pierced labia, had caused the other girl's meltdown.

Breanne enjoys Douglas's hard-work with a day out in the Roadster.

~o~O~o~

Chapter 4

Breanne smiled as the wind that was barely stopped by the windshield tugged at her new shaven head. She wouldn’t have wind tossed hair with knots to untangle ever again. Turning to her step-dad, Dan, she smiled at the smiling glance he gave her prior to him returning to look at the road. The car shot along on the surface streets of Carlingford and they were quickly on the M2 Motorway toll road and heading west along the ring of Sydney’s suburbs.

Now on the M2 Dan let the roadster go. It was unusual for police to have traps on a none holiday Saturday afternoon. He was of course carefully keeping an eye out for their easily noticed orangey-red stripe, which was then topped by a racing chequered black and white, and then finally plain white top cars. Their distinctive look had given him a head’s up many a time to take his foot off the accelerator pedal. No speeding tickets so far thank goodness. Mind you being now in the flashy roadster he might need to be more careful.

Of course his wife drove more than him really. During the work week Dan rode the train from Epping into his office in Sydney for work. The roadster was his car, and he had just got it ready to drive today. If he chose to drive it for work, it would only be to the train station’s car park. It really wasn’t smart attempting to drive into Sydney. There was an unofficial three side war between pedestrians, motorists and cyclists for the streets of Sydney. Unfortunately, no one had told the three sides that the train company was the only partial victor of their conflict. Luckily he didn’t have to cross one of the more deadly roads. Nope, Dharawal Liquors, Spirits and Wines, the largest alcohol distributer for New South Wales, Queensland, Northern Territory, ACT and Victoria, had the office he worked out of. It was on the same side of the road as the station exited onto. So he didn’t have to worry about the over twenty pedestrians killed so far this year from aggressive drivers.

He’d done well for himself. Especially when he’d thought his life had collapsed when Teresa ran off with an old high-school sweetheart flame. Even when she initially deserted the kids with him, and he had juggled the two jobs of keeping an income coming in while keeping the family running, he kept his position. He’d stayed afloat largely due to the help from his parents. Two years later in the divorce she got awarded custardy and child payments for kids she suddenly felt he didn’t have any rights to see. In just over a year those payments would be finally over, and most likely the second child like the first would be back in his life. Back in his life due to being eighteen and not having to avoid him on their ‘Mother’s’ court won say so. Rachel his eldest had told him Wayne was counting the days ‘till he could visit him once more. Both kids according to Rachel liked only one parent and that was not their mother.

Looking at Douglas he hoped for the day he could finally say he was the Father of four kids. Currently he was only Dad to one, and step-dad to two, though of course he was paying for all four still. How much would Breanne cost him this weekend? He would be getting the answer to that tonight. He slowed while changing lanes to not take the A2 fork north, rather staying on the ring road that had just become the M7 Westlink slightly earlier. Once clear of the Congestion he let the Roadster purr. “What do you think of that power, son?” He asked over the increased wind noise, and while noting an automatic toll taking booth slip by.

Breanne grinned and nodded back, not even attempting to speak over the wind and risk her voice sounding wrong for Douglas. Thankfully Douglas was quiet, for she had most concern being found out if she said something. Not only did her voice typically range over slightly higher frequencies, even when she attempted to deepen it, but she knew she had habits in saying things that differed and might get noticed. Her rumbling stomach, suddenly cramped. She hoped they would be stopping soon and eating.

As the pain increased she got dizzy as her view became blurry. Something wasn’t right. For superimposed over the view was a slightly different one. In one that she knew was correct the sun was falling from overhead in front of the car, which made sense as they were traveling sort of west, and it was the afternoon. The second had the sun shining in from a high angle on the driver’s side of the car, which would only be the case if they were traveling south in the early afternoon. Her queasy stomach made her worried she wouldn’t be able to keep lunch down, if she even managed to eat it in the first place. That would suck as she knew she was hungry.

The wonky view showed the car pass the Power Street exit which overlaid on the Sunnyholt Road exit they actually passed. Her stomach was meanwhile attempting to do a tumbling floor exercise, and she swallowed back the bile and acid from a thankfully failed upchuck. The double vision continued to bother her though as after passing above both differently named roads there was no feed on access from Power street, while Sunnyholt road did have one on her passenger side of the car, complete with toll booths for entry onto the toll road. Less than a minute later and the wonky vision of the road finally had an entrance on her side of the car, though there had been no exit, unless you counted the Power street one several hundred meters before. Looking at the entrance that in reality wasn’t there, she saw several police cars. One of them suddenly turned on their flashing lights.

Thankfully the awkward stomach cramps and ghost false image faded away together. “So where are we eating?” She asked her step-dad. Hoping if she ate soon she wouldn’t get a repeat of the earlier cramps. Initially she’d worried it was that time of the month. Thankfully as soon as she had thought that she had realized it wasn’t possible for that yet, which was extremely good news as Douglas had her purse. It also brought up a concern on how she was going to handle those days when pretending to be Douglas.

“We could be in Mount Vernon in about twenty minutes. How’s that sound, Mark?” Her step-dad asked, obviously currying favor by using the newly minted name. She knew she could likely talk him into the Distillery but that was only slightly more than five minutes closer, and not as fancy a fare offered. The only thing was she’d have to interact with the other members’ kids as Douglas. Then again she was going to have to start the birth of the new Mark somewhere, why not at The Lodge at Mount Vernon. Being members only, meant a lot less kids for the initial outing than would be at school, plus it would be only the best social movers if there even was anyone from her school there. This was the exclusive club for Sydney. The waiting list to become a member was over five years. During which you still paid base membership dues.

“Sounds good,” Breanne said while seeing the exit sign for Power Street and getting a feeling of déjà vu. Oh and the sun was still high but over her step-dad’s side of the car. That’s right they were traveling south now on the ring road. “Hey don’t the police usually stake out the on-ramp here?”

“There is no on-ramp this way from Power Street.” Dan replied, but still eased his foot off the accelerator when he saw his speed.

“I meant the next street’s entrance, the one that doesn’t have an exit that pairs with this one.”

“You’ve seen police there?”

“Just about every time we travel to Mount Vernon.” Breanne lied.

“I guess they must be easier to see from the passenger side of the car.” Dan said while pulling into the outside lane after checking there was room. Having maneuvered into the slower lane on the left he broke to the same speed as the previously approaching car ahead.

Just prior to the point of being able to see the merging on-ramp where she had seen a few police cars they were overtaken. Moments later there was a changed not quite déjà vu. This time she saw the flashing lights a bit in front of their car, though still on the left hand side, and on the on-ramp. Whereas before when she’d seen them they had been level, or actually just behind their car when its lights had gone off. It had seemed so real, how lucky she was to have imagined there would be a police trap here. Had she subconsciously made note of the police cars’ speeding trap on prior trips to the Lodge? But Douglas normally sits on this side of the car. She was normally behind the driver on the right side of the car.

Dan slowed more to allow the police car to enter the toll road in front of him, its sirens now blaring. “Thank you Mark, you likely have just saved me, the money your sister is spending.” He decided after the close call to increase only enough to stay slightly over the speed limit. It was still fun even if not traveling at quiet as crazy a speed as he had been. “Mark, with soccer finishing in three to four weeks, have you any idea what you might want to take up for summer?”

“How about tennis,” Breanne said before suddenly realizing she had goofed up.

“Douglas you turned that down, even though I wanted you to play with Breanne in the mixed tennis camp and tournament the Lodge is putting on. There will be some really nice prizes.”

“I didn’t want to play with my sister. I mean come on, I’m fourteen.”

Dan withheld comment on how young fourteen still was. Instead he asked. “Then who did you want to play with?”

“Leah…

“Leah Martins?” at his son’s nod he carried on. “The Martins are not members of the club. Look you know how much Breanne wanted to play. If you did this for her, Mark. Well she would owe you and I would owe you double. You actually could find a girl that is in our social… What I mean is that you have a better chance of starting a relationship with a girl by being noticed competing than being her partner. In fact being on the same team could be a sure fine way to prevent a relationship from launching.”

“You do mixed doubles with Ellin.” Breanne noted how he had been referred as Douglas when he dropped herself in it and was Mark when his step-dad needed a favor. Unfortunately, Douglas disliked tennis more than soccer. He had refused to do this exact mixed doubles with her, and she was unsure if even saying he had to do it to ensure the steps didn’t work out they’d swapped would work here. There was a limit that she knew she couldn’t push her brother beyond, and she was fairly sure this was way further along than that.

“Your, mum, and I had been in our relationship before we started playing as a tennis team.” Dan stated emphasizing the ‘mum’ rather than wasting time starting in on a battle over Mark using ‘Ellin’, before muttering. “Even then it can still be a close thing at times.”

Slowing down he took the off ramp for ‘The Horsley Drive’. Breanne saw the northern edge of the Sydney International Equestrian Center. It ran along the inside of the ring road from the other side of the cross road. They turned right onto Horsley, traveling under the toll road, and west toward Mount Vernon. A couple more turns and after passing ‘The nineteenth hole driving range’ they entered the private drive. Stopping at the gate Dan lifted his club pass up over the side window to the guard who lifted the barrier letting them in.

Breanne remembered asking why it wasn’t electric, and being told that having it be manually lifted showed the club to be more pretentious. As paying a staff to lift the entrance, and exit barriers was more expensive than installing an electric one. Personally she thought it was poor money management.

Being half two the restaurant was rather empty. As they were being walked to their table a man called out. “Afternoon Dan, are your better half and daughter following?” Breanne looked to see a couple with two girls. One was about her age. She figured she’d seen her at the club before but not interacted with her. She was still staring trying to think if she knew anything about the two girls only vaguely paying attention to her step-dad talking with the other kids’ wrinkles.

“I should be mad with you Douglas, but I guess I have to give credit where credit is due, that goal yesterday was a beaut’.” The elder girl said. Did Douglas know her? This would be awkward.

“I hadn’t realized you went to North Rocks.” She decided as the best thing to say. Hopefully Douglas knew her from the club as she’d not seen him interacting with any girl but Leah at North Rocks.

“I don’t. We go to West Pennant Hills.” The still un-named girl replied for herself, and so far unspoken younger sister. There was a bit of a pregnant pause as Breanne didn’t want to say anything, and was hoping for a few clues, like why she would be at a North Rocks’ game. “West Pennant Hills was the team you destroyed the playoff chances of yesterday.” She finally clued him in on why she would be at another school’s soccer game. “Oh, and I am Sophia, and this is Marlene.” She indicated the younger sister. Who even though likely thirteen or fourteen showed she would most probably be prettier than Sophia later. Marlene took after her mother who could be a top model. Sophia resembled her dad too much to escape being called handsome. She knew that Sophia was not like her in desiring to be handsome though. “I know your name as it has been tweeted all over our school’s social network. We have even been talking about your sudden hair cut. So you can stop worrying if you were supposed to know me, and forgot me.” She snorted with the humor at her own expense. Sadly she seemed to expect people who knew her would forget her.

“Well I wish I didn’t know you Douglas, and I recommend you don’t visit our school any time soon.” A voice from behind Breanne called out. Spinning she saw a boy that she also didn’t know. “Brett, midfielder for the team you more or less single handedly dismantled yesterday. You’ve met my older and younger sisters, now you meet the best Morrison kid.” He held his hand out and shook hers. “Why didn’t you play striker from the beginning?”

Breanne figured she needed to go with Douglas’s excuse. “I was a bit sick, and felt the team would be better with Michael starting as striker.”

“God, that was you playing under the weather!”

“Brett!”

“Sorry mum.”

“Michael, can we pull another chair or table up so these two can join us?” Mister Morrison asked.

“I could move your drinks to those two tables pushed together. It has a great view of the eighteenth green, and the afternoon breeze I swear is known to bring the Pacific Ocean’s freshness from the terrace through the open veranda doors.” The Maitre D’ offered, and after getting the nod asked. “Could I get you anything to drink Mister Parson, Master Parson?” Michael’s idea was a better decision than pushing a square table up against the current six-person round top, or worse trying to squeeze a seventh of the overlarge rounded wicker chairs to go around the table.

Breanne quickly found herself sitting between Brett and Sophia, with her step-dad opposite between the Morison wrinkles, and Marlene was sat beside Sophia. This enabled the adults to have their own conversation, and Sophia and herself to have sort of three conversations that waxed and waned. She had a conversation just with Brett, while Sophia had one with Marlene, the second was with Sophia, and the third was all four of them talking together.

The entrees halted most of the individual conversations. Breanne became worried as half way through the meal her stomach cramps returned with a vengeance. She also got feelings of choices to make, and others to avoid. Why she was thinking the best of the numerous options started by accepting Misses Morison’s offer even though this included finding out she wouldn’t get a girlfriend as far as she could see, which true was a bit over a couple of weeks, but when bad choices could yield a girlfriend by this evening it was as if the universe was out to get her. Thinking she could manipulate what would happen, was she going mad?

She was awake and yet dreaming of hundreds of futures, they were all overlapping. She had to make choices to shut off some of them so the number was reduced to stop the headache. Ones that ended with one ominous word, ‘Syndicate’ were the worst. Quickly toggling options to get rid of those seemed to remove most of the aches and drowsiness. It was worse than drowsiness though, her brain seemed to not quite work right and was muffled, and ‘chained?’ in those images. Removing the obviously bad options that led to those scenes seemed to let her see about twenty choices, each of a different two weeks forward from now, which was confusing to keep track of. In those two weeks the only possible girlfriend were those where she got with Sophia, and she knew even in those options where she had chosen to accept her that she never considered her a girlfriend even when she was apparently kissing her.

What was even odder was that in most Sophia knew too that she was being used, and always didn’t care. Refusing to believe she could have a gift and not be able to use it to her own advantage she quickly went back trying to see which options led to her getting Leah as her girlfriend. There were only three; one enabled her to have her as a girlfriend for one day prior to the ‘Syndicate’ ending it. The next was three days and then the same ending. The last was half a kiss for the length of relationship, and ‘The Center’ broke it up, and she suddenly had a gay boyfriend. That nearly had her throwing up. In fact looking through them except for four, all the ones with ‘The Center’ arriving led to her having a flamboyantly gay boyfriend or a rather pretty boy one. Three she had no one and knew that ‘The Center’ had labeled her nonsexual and according to them will not have a relationship. The fourth reading a file that she somehow felt had been purposely left out for her to read, it said “…subject is bisexual, the interest in girls being actually secondary to a refused acceptance of his homosexual primary interest in boys…”

“Douglas…

“Mark. Son…

Breanne managed to get up from the table, through the open door, and out onto the patio before hurling up on the terrace. She needed to do whatever it took to avoid ‘The Center’ they initially seem like the good guys, but the forced feminization or masculinization of the newly gender flipped. The lies, manipulation and basically brain washing so their kids will appear to have similar percentages of sexual orientation to the world at large were sickening. All of it just so ‘The Center’ blends in, and doesn’t stand out. The manipulation in some ways is nearly as evil as the ‘Syndicate’ that is completely obvious in being evil. ‘The Center’ allows all freedoms except who you can be sexually attracted to, and contact with your actual family that they stole you from.

“Hey son, sorry you must be going down with something we should leave.” Her step-dad joined her outside.

“No I need to accept Misses Morison’s offer.”

“We can…

“I must do it now.” Breanne turned and returned into the dining room. “I am really sorry, I must be still not completely better. However, I would completely love to do it.” Breanne said the last part looking at Misses Morison. The lady looked across the table to Sophia, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh yes, yes, yes! A million times yes!” Sophia squealed.

“Fantastic, I am sure that you and Sophia will make a perfect couple. I’m sure you can exchange contact info with my daughter, and make all the arrangements when you are feeling better.”

While Breanne/Mark is upset with not getting too much information, Douglas/Bree is stuck learning more than he ever wanted about being a girl. He might argue that he is getting the too much information his twin is cursing not getting.

~o~O~o~

Chapter 5

Breanne was now left with a dilemma or three. Firstly, as she had just emptied her hungry stomach she really wanted to eat the second half of the meal on her plate, which was at a table where sat the other diners who almost definitely would not desire her to re-join, as they obviously think she is ill with a potentially contagious or at least totally unappetizing sickness.

Secondly she needed to talk with Sophia and find out exactly what she had agreed to just now, and if her power was true it needed to be done in private sometime now, which as Sophia and her family thought she was sick, she was clueless how that was supposed to play out. Lastly, she cringed refusing to think what was required. If the first two items weren’t impossible then surely the third one was. Maybe she should go back to revisit her disbelief that she could select from different futures. At the very least could she get the full script rather than a few crib notes? She stared longingly at her wonderful dinner.

“Mum, can I be excused.” Sophia asked. As soon as she had been given permission she got up and took Douglas’s hand and dragged him from the table, and her food. As they approached the front she grabbed the Maitre D’s attention. “Can you have Douglas and my drinks and food brought to the Rose Garden? I know the flowers settle my stomach, and I’m sure Douglas needs the food and doesn’t want to waste your delicious food.”

As soon as they were alone walking toward said garden, Breanne thanked her profusely. “Douglas, it is no bother I could see you trying to work out how to get back to eating your food.” Sophia seemed to be girding herself then plowed forward. “Can I ask you a personal question though?” Breanne nodded unsure what to say. “How long have you known?”

Breanne was slammed out from the relieved great happiness of somehow actually getting her food, back into her prior overly worried feelings about her crazy power of seeing different futures, and the weird belief she could manipulate the end result within certain restraints. She was left questioning how the heck Sophia knows about her power. “You know!”

“I’m friends with a girl that was unfortunately born with the minor birth defect of being mistaken at birth as a boy, Douglas.” She calmly said. “She has shared that there are times some of the medicine she is on along with the extra anxiety in social situations she is under gives her a ‘tricky’ stomach too.

“I’m sorry Ma’am that we bothered you. Come on Leah we need to go or it will be the time my mum picks us up and we won’t have got everything done.” Douglas attempted to defuse the situation. If Leah could get her arse in gear they could just run out of the restroom, but she was still doing far too good an impersonation of a statue, for plan ‘A’ to work.

“Bree, I asked you a simple question. As you avoided it I think I need to have a few words with your mum. Let’s give your friend a moment to recover from the shock you gave her, and you let me know what time and where you expect to meet up with your mum.”

“I am not pieced down there!”

“Well, can you explain your friend’s reaction?”

“It was joke. I made it look like I was by putting a loop ring on the lip. But the ring is actually not a complete circle. I am not pierced there. Heck, look even my ears aren’t pierced.” Douglas quickly un snapped one of her earrings. “If I don’t even pierce my ears you can be damn sure I didn’t pierce anyway else.”

“You prat! I really thought you had pierced your cunt.” Leah wacked him on the shoulder, well at least she was finally responding even if it was to humiliate him.

“Sorry Bree’s prank bothered you ma’am.” Then they were both running from the lady before she thought of anything else to say to them. Like demanding to see Bree’s mum.

“So how do I know you weren’t always identical twin sisters and your steps are crazy pretending one of you is a boy?” Leah asked after finishing her pastry. The two were sitting in the food court having escaped the lady in the restroom. Neither knew whether she did or didn’t believe the story Bree had spun of having pretended to get a piercing. Leah had thanked her for the perfect opening to use the word ‘cunt’ in polite company, much to Bree’s shame.

“About the only thing I can think to defend against that is if we were both girls but one of us is forced to pretend to be a boy…Then why wouldn’t we have just swapped places earlier…As Breanne was always the more aggressive of the two of us, and is obviously soccer crazy.

“If she not only wanted to play on the boys’soccer team, but also wanted to be a boy all along, and if I was actually a girl… Then why wouldn’t we have just swapped once, me into her, and her into being the boy you are concerned our steps forced me to be. Then we would not be worried about all the swapping back and forth we’ve been doing. Conversely if we enjoyed swapping places why would we now stop swapping?” Douglas replied sort of thinking it out as he or she rambled then took another sip of her drink. Not noticing that his internal thinking had flipped genders a few times.

“Bree, people don’t just suddenly change gender overnight. It is far more likely that you and Breanne have always both been girls, and your steps are evil.” Leah replied rationalizing. “Fraternal twins don’t look nearly as identical as you and Breanne do.”

“Leah, our pediatrician, Doctor Woods, would have not stayed silent on the abuse. Our real dad, our grandma, and the hospital we were born at would have to be willing to sign off on the farce. I think it was my sister taking something to stop her breasts growing and binding them that enabled us to look so similar before my spontaneous growth of a pair of...” Bree stalled from saying the dreaded word while indicating her new assets to his anatomy.

“What is your sister taking, and your boobs are bigger?”

“I don’t know, but when she saw my breasts she asked if I had been taking hormones too. So I guess she is taking male hormones, and yes she had one size “A” bra that was too tight for me. Thus the wardrobe disaster that led into this shopping hell. On Breanne that one is loose, she barely fills the “AA” training bras and I fit into a B-cup, seen as that is what my step-mum has bought today for me.

“Bree when you talk like that I think you are a girl as boys aren’t usually so catty.”

“Catty? What do you mean?”

“God Bree, you really didn’t know what you just did?” seeing Bree’s clueless face. “Fine, maybe you were a boy after all, but you are now, all girl.”

“That’s what I said.” Bree confusedly interrupted.

“Not what I meant. Oh , don’t worry about it… Head’s up, your mum is approaching.” Leah’s non sequitur woke Douglas back up to worry, and he quickly checked he wasn’t doing anything that would let his step-mum know he wasn’t Breanne.

“Okay girls, are you ready? Leah, are you here with anyone or do you want me to drop you home?”

“Actually can I come back with you? Bree still needs to give me the fashion show I was promised. I’ll do her nails for school tomorrow too.” Leah said.

“If you want to ask your mum if you can come to a sleepover, then you’re more than welcome for getting dinner with us tonight. I know it is a school night but if you mum is willing to let you stay the night, we would be delighted. I would love to see you get Bree to act more girly. If you could get her to go to school with nice nails I would let you have a sleepover whenever you wanted…

“Hey guys, Bree here. You know the person you’re planning events for without my input.” Douglas forced his way into the conversation. “I would love it if Leah can have a sleepover with me tonight, but my nails are fine the way they are.”

“Silly, a sleepover is all about nails, and outfits, and hair, and all good girly stuff. Let me ask my mum, Misses Parson.” Leah quickly turned while getting her phone from her purse and texted her mum.

Douglas’s step-mum grabbed her son’s hand, which she thought was her daughter’s. “Seriously this cuticle disaster is what you think fine nails should look like.” Ellin said, keeping her daughter off balance so the sleepover could be made a fait accompli. She turned to look at Leah. “If you need help convincing your mum, Leah, let me know. As I need your help here badly. Bree really needs to stop being such a tomboy.”

“That is good as she just said she was going to call to talk to you.” Leah’s phone started ringing while she talked so she then handed her phone over to Misses Parson and grabbed Bree’s hand from when Bree’s mum released it. Then Leah whispered coquettishly into Bree’s ear. “I would be so happy if you let me play with you. Won’t you let me play, please?”

Douglas couldn’t stop himself from blushing at the innuendo. He became concerned that he was already rationalizing that he could paint his nails as he was now a girl. Was he willing to do something crazy just to get more time with a girl? He suddenly realized that yes, he was, heck he had willingly worn a skirt while he was a boy just to be able to talk to her. Allowing Leah to play with his nails now he was a girl was far less demeaning. Hell, he was worried that he might have accepted letting her play with his nails to get a sleepover with her even if he was still a boy. Was there something wrong with him?

“God’s though Bree, your hair is terrible. About the only things going for it, is that it is cut evenly and without any split ends, but I don’t know what I am going to do with it tonight. It is just too short and boyish. Yuk!” Leah’s tirade was ended when Misses Parson gave her the cell phone back. “Oh hey Mum… Yes… Yes. Of course I will. Thank you. I love you too.” Leah put her phone away, and beaming grabbed hold of Douglas. “Thank you Misses Parson for inviting me to a sleepover with Bree. We are going to do so many girly things together that Douglas will be sick.”

Douglas gulped as he was not too sure that Leah meant him, or his twin acting as Douglas, with that last statement. What had he signed himself up for? Oh yes, a complete girly-girl makeover. He was doomed. Tomorrow was school too, did he not already say he was doomed.

“We need to get Bree some cosmetics. Come on girls, its shopping time!” Douglas was left realizing that no matter how doomed he might have thought he was. There was always a lower level of doom, as Leah happily dragged him after his step-mum; a step-mum whom had waltzed off after dropping the latest doom bomb.

As the garage door opened and their car edged in, Douglas saw the empty space that the roadster usually sat in. His sister was obviously still out gallivanting in the car, when she hadn’t done any of the work on it like he had.

“Good it is just us girls. Let’s get everything into Bree’s room. Have a quick fashion show as the outfits are put away then I’ll leave you girls to play with Bree’s new cosmetics while I get started on dinner. You two can be in charge of clean-up after dinner and then escape back to Bree’s room for your sleepover. As it is a school night I’ll get the men to bed early so you can have a very quick ice-cream-giggle-time in the sun-lounge, but I promised your mum you would be to sleep by eleven. As long as I don’t hear any noise after you go to Bree’s bedroom by eleven, then I will pretend you are both sleeping. Okay?” His step-mum rattled off the itinerary for the late afternoon evening as Douglas’s stomach rumbled to the word of ice-cream.

“Well Bree’s tummy is onboard Misses P.” Leah giggled as she ran for the house with nearly half the bags from the boot. Douglas blushed realizing that the one pastry and drink in the food court was all he had eaten all day. Grabbing a few bags himself he ran after, seeing his step-mum smirking from the corner of his eye. Just think he could be in the roadster if he hadn’t suddenly become female overnight. That thought was of no help with his current predicament. Running after a giggling Leah also didn’t help in delaying the next item on the agenda. That which was scheduled to occur after unloading the car.He realized what was next, unfortunately, too late. He shouldn’t have carried so many bags, as his step-mum had brought up all the rest. Now there was no reason to delay it.

“Twirl again Bree.” Leah requested for the umpteenth time. “Now cock your hip, and blow me a kiss. Come on; work it baby, work it! We really need some music and some lights, and a runway. Bree your bedroom, even if it’s twice the size of mine, is too small.”

“We could have her walk across the landing?” Douglas’s step-mum offered.

“Nowhere for us judges to sit, let’s head to the living room?” Leah countered. Thus half an hour later Douglas found himself working the living room. This time, and thankfully the last one, he was in a flimsy white blouse with pastel pink accents. It hung off one shoulder, showing a healthy amount of cleavage as it asymmetrically dived across his front. One arm left completely bare. Heck most of that side was bare too, as the blouse was a too short affair that left his midriff bare. His painted pink nails, yes breaks to his new bedroom to change make-up for the next series of outfits had occurred, matched the blouse’s accents and his strapless pink bra was partially visible through the flimsy thin blouse, even if it was quote unquote covered.

The blouse was really too transparent to be truly classified as covering it. Apparently it couldn’t be worn with one of his current camisole vests though as they were longer. ‘Go figure that rule out,’ Douglas thought it was weird how some under layers could be visible while others couldn’t. Worse yet was when the same under layre could only be allowed to be visible in certain areas but not others, and there were exceptions and consistency flaws to the whole concept too. The black tulip skirt, which clung to his bottom like a second skin and kept his upper thighs tightly bound to each other, flared out just above his knees while he twirled on command. He was wearing the same sandals as before but his toe nails were now also painted hot pink too. The earrings didn’t completely go with the outfit but as he refused to let them pierce his ears. They still had demanded he at least wore his only pair of earrings, even if they didn’t completely go.

The hi-fi system was booming out pop music from a local radio station and his step-mum and Leah were perched on the settee drinks in hand. Both were yelling out moves for Douglas to do for them in his last outfit from the day’s shopping. The rest of the clothing had thankfully been allowed to be put away. Douglas figured in a bit he could gracefully bow out, and get this ensemble away too, including the unwanted make-up.

“Bree, just one more seduction pose and twist and I’ll get you a drink to celebrate the end of your first fashion show.” Leah yelled over the music.

“Yes but do the two handed kissing blow version as you do have two adoring fans.” Douglas’s step-mum loudly added with her, well almost the usual smirk.

Glad for it to be finally over Douglas swayed toward them to the beat of the music, and then he cocked his hip hard and suggestively moving both hands to his face blew a kiss, each hand ending pointing toward his two members of audience. He then indicated with the fingers for them to come toward him. Then after they edged toward him and just before both got up, he giggled while waving them off, and span. He stopped mid twirl gaping at his sister and step-dad that had obviously been behind him. God knows for how long. Oh there were levels of doom even lower than he had thought of before, he now realized.

Taking in Breanne’s shocked expression, and his step-dad’s questioning one, he was at a complete loss at what to say. As they were between him and the exit he was also trapped.

“You got your ears pierced! What about your tirades that it was the same as a farmer tagging his cattle? Are you a piece of meat now Breanne?” Breanne demanded of Douglas into the silence that came when their step-mum shut off the hi-fi system by remote. How could Douglas have changed Breanne’s personality so much in one day, and why wasn’t their step-mum realizing that it wasn’t Breanne acting so… ‘Ahh! Needs must when the devil drives,’ Breanne thought as she continued the act. Some of which like the surprise to the outfit, earrings and dance, weren’t actually acting. She only got a rough poor man’s cliff note version of events to be, not the meat and potatoes of what was going to happen. Case in point, ‘Spring frigging Formal Dance.’ Well the extra side effects hopefully wouldn’t include something of that level too here.

“They’re not pierced!” Douglas exclaimed back before Breanne said something to unearth their charade. He had never seen her so frustrated. Quickly he un-clasped one earring to show his sister and step-dad.

Now knowing why she needed to say what she’d thought an odd comment of an illusion of a tag still being a tag, along with an animal sound. Breanne worked out something to incorporate that while hoping she wasn’t about to get grounded. She had a commitment tonight after all. “So you are wearing a simulation of a pierced earring. A tag is still a tag. Your convictions aren’t very strong. So it is just the pain of getting your ears truly pieced that stopped you from being tagged. Moo!”

Douglas is forced to apologize and the girls escape to Bree's bedroom for relationship soul searching or something like that

~o~O~o~

Chapter 6

“Douglas, apologize, your sister is allowed to change her opinion on something. Further, even if Breanne does not chose to change her mind and get her ears pierced your mum and Breanne’s friend both have pierced ears because they want them, and your reasoning is rude and demeaning to people that want to get their ears pierced. I had been completely impressed with how you acted today and you have just ruined it with that boorish comment.” Their step-dad angrily stated and it took Douglas a moment to realize for once, that it wasn’t him that was in trouble or being addressed but Breanne.

“I told you I wanted to go by Mark instead of Douglas.” Breanne surly stated.

“Then act like Mark, and we will call you Mark. Now apologize!”

“Sorry ‘sis’, your new style got me by surprise, and I miss-spoke.” Well she had got the important boxes for the initial meeting checked. Breanne quickly apologized not realizing she had stressed ‘sis’ and that her new sister and Leah would think she had done so on purpose. It was galling and cruel that she had to help push them together. Her jealousy didn’t help her apology any either. Worse she had one more time she need to say things to push them together.

Douglas didn’t want to accept the back-handed apology but didn’t want to appear bad to his step-parents as they likely wouldn’t have caught the stressed ‘sis’ nor know it was likely intended as an insult, so decided to change the subject. “So you are now going by Mark. Is that for Marcel?” he asked, to avoid actually saying he accepted the insincere apology.

Leah also noticing that it seemed Mark had insulted Bree decided to add her own muddying. “Mister and misses Parson can Bree and I head up to Bree’s room?”

“Sure that will work, and ‘Mark’ can help me prepare dinner.” Mrs. Parson replied.

As the girls left Dan interrupted his wife. “I’ll help you dear.” He then after checking his watch turned to his son. “You have forty-five minutes Mark, best get moving, and know if I didn’t think this was important that things would likely be different after your earlier tasteless comment.” He could explain in the kitchen what their son had planned for this evening, and why he didn’t ground him.

Bree let Leah drag her back upstairs and happily shut her bedroom door. She was thankful to finally be out of the awkward situation downstairs. If she hadn’t been wearing such a tight skirt that impeded movement she likely would have been the dragger due to his desired haste to get away as soon as allowed. As she removed the blouse she noticed Leah had grabbed a blue bra from his new underwear drawer.

“Swap bras too and then put on the blouse you were wearing this morning as it goes with your earrings.”

“I was going to take the earrings and make-up off.” Douglas answered.

“That will be taken as a victory by Marcel, ‘call me Mark, because I think I would get teased using my real name…’

“You do know that’s my name…

“Nope, you are Bree now. One hundred percent grade A cow… girl. Ye-Ha! Actually what was Breanne’s Middle name?” Leah asked.

Bree’s eye glistened slightly with unshed tears as she reverently whispered, “Julie.”

“Julie is your mum’s name, my Jubrelie?” Leah asked while handing a tissue to her. Bree nodded and turned away to wipe her eyes. Leah hugged her from behind. “Hey think about it, I am happy to keep calling you Bree, or either of the other two.”

“Let’s stay with Bree, but…” Bree gathered herself and soldiered on. “In private, I kind of like being your Jubrelie.”

“Anything you want, my Jubrelie, you’ve got it.”

Giggling through her tears she hopefully asked. “So I can take the earrings and make-up off?”

My Jubrelie, if you really want to of course, but know that Marcel will count it as his victory, and you are so pretty wearing earrings, and I saw you first as a girl wearing them, along with the peasant blouse. For those reasons I would really hope you wore both for our first evening meal, our first date together. Please…” Leah fluttered her eyes and pouted cutely. Sighing Douglas, no Bree internally corrected herself in who she was. Having decided that she changed bras, and blouse. She then checked in the mirror to ensure her earrings hadn’t been moved by the clothing change.

“Now come on I need to do your nails. Sit!” Leah indicated for Bree to sit at Breanne’s vanity.

Bree turning from having hung up the other blouse in Breanne’s closet lifted her hand. “My nails are done you did them already.”

“Bree, really you can’t see what is wrong. Your nails are hot pink, which was for the other blouse. Now… Yes, I think silvermist will work best. Come on Bree, sit. You know make-up is a girl’s war-paint. Men might think we do it for them. They are completely wrong. Marcel is clueless on this topic, and tonight we are going to destroy him.” Leah moved the stool out from the vanity so she would be easily able to get to Bree’s toenails.

“Let me change back into the denim skirt first” Bree asked mainly to delay and decide if she wanted the upcoming nail treatments.

“Nope, the denim skirt was nice and casual for the day, but what you’re now wearing is better for evening wear. Oh, yes my Jubrelie, I will be doing your first evening make-up!” Leah squealed delightfully at the realization.

“Leah, I am not comfortable with more make-up. Fine I’ll let you do my finger and toenails in silver, but no more…”

“Silvermist, Bree, the colour is not just silver. Come-on spoilsport let me get the spacers in between your toes. You know I wonder…” Leah looked carefully at the nail polish. “As this is so translucent I want to see how it looks over the hot pink, I can always add a second coat, or remove it all if it looks bad but I am hopeful that it might look good.”

A few minutes later and Leah was bouncing on Breanne’s bed while Bree sat at the vanity stool waiting for her nails to dry. “Bree, please let me do your make-up for tonight. If you don’t like it we can remove it, but at least I will have done your first evening make-up, please.” Bree falling to Leah’s deadly pout, figured there was no harm in letting Leah be able to say she had done her first evening make-up. There was plenty of time to take it off before dinner, so sat and acquiesced. She was curious how she would look too. Though she didn’t want to admit it she had actually liked how her nails had looked. Leah didn’t need to be offered twice as she set to with gusto.

“You don’t think this is too much.” Bree asked looking at herself while twisting her head from side to side. Three coats of mascara had thickened and made her lashes appear longer. Even when he was Douglas he had naturally long eyelashes, and that stayed true when he became a girl, but the mascara appeared to make them even longer as well as thickening them. The eye shadow went from a mid bright electric blue at the inside to a very pale pastel baby blue. Her cheeks had a bright rosy bloom and her silver lips could not be ignored. Glancing at her nails she could see it appeared they were a muted pink beneath a nearly translucent silver veil.

“Nope it is just right. Let me do mine so you can compare.” Leah said. “Can I borrow your green wrap around dress for tonight, Bree?” Bree nodded from Breanne’s bed, and watched Leah taking off her face, having relinquished the vanity stool to her. “God, your sister has almost no jewelry. I have the perfect pair of emerald earrings at home that would go with the dress but will have to make do with my silver hoops.”

Bree trying to appease Leah jumped in. “I think your dangling hoops work better than studs, and silver goes with dark green.”

“Wow look at you girl, coordinating and knowing what works. The emerald earrings aren’t studs though they have three dangling gold chains with several emeralds in them. If your ears were pierced, I could let you borrow them when you wear the wrap.

“Well sister you have gone all girly, and getting your ears pierced too.” Mark stated having just walked into the room and seeing Douglas, nope there was no Douglas here he was actually seeing his new sister, dressed to the hilt. Mark was in athletic shorts and a white V-neck T-shirt with under vest beneath. Even though freshly clean and pressed, it was quite glaring how he was dressed compared to the two girls that were dressed to the nines.

“Marcel, you know that now this is no longer your room, you should knock before entering a girl’s room.” Leah said after looking out the door and ensuring it was just the three of them.

“What the f… Douglas you told her!”

“I worked it out Breanne. I’ve known since the start that it was Douglas playing hockey, not you. I didn’t care because Douglas helped the team, and you wouldn’t have.” Leah defended Douglas. “Also she is Bree now so I can keep you guys straight.”

“Then don’t call me Breanne, to stop a potential problem call me Mark. Any-way, Leah, are you going to show Bree how make-up looks done right on a pretty girl?”

“I did Bree’s make-up, and she is a beautiful girl. I would date her, actually I am, and tonight is our first date.” Mark reared back shocked at Leah’s confession. Well that explains why she only had three chances to end up in a relationship with her. “All along I was more interested in Douglas than you Mark. Now she is Bree, you have no chance, I like girls not boys.” As Breanne further found out why any relationship would be so short, and was also realizing that she could leave, they had already reached the point she thought she needed to nudge them into, Leah however kept on talking before he could excuse himself. “Please close the door when you leave Mark, we girls are having a slumber party, and boys are not needed. Aren’t you supposed to be with your mother making our dinner too?” Leah turned and went back to working on her make-up, completely ignoring Mark.

After the door closed Bree let go of her held breath. “That was a bit mean Leah.”

“Mark was not being nice to you Bree. Some times its okay to be mean or others will walk all over you. Can I see if your wedges fit me, and borrow them tonight if they do?” Bree took a moment at the abrupt conversation change prior to nodding. It had also taken her most of the time she paused to realize that Breanne’s shoes were now hers.

Leah completed her make-up then rose while unbuttoning and slipping her blouse off her arms. Bree couldn’t stop herself staring at the lacy black demi bra, and of course what was beneath Leah’s nearly transparent bra. Going over what Leah had said she might actually be getting something going her way, and she would willingly accept all the prior losses for the current gain. She tried to not blush as Leah proceeded to pull the tight jeans she had been wearing off next, as if he wasn’t directly in front of her in his sister’s, no her bedroom with the door closed. The small lacy black briefs matched Leah’s bra. When Leah passed her heading for the closet to get the dress, Bree couldn’t stop feeling hot, nor stop enjoying the beautiful girl passing by virtually naked. Leah’s tight bum was prominently displayed as what little piece of cloth there was at the back of the panties was of the same transparency as the bra was.

Leah deliberately took her time getting the dress off the coat hanger enjoying the hungry eyes following her every move. Her nipples had to be as hard as diamonds as she was excited knowing Bree was interested. She slipped it on her arms and wrapped it around herself then tied it closed loosely. Leah then turned to confirm that Bree was still staring at her. “See something you like?” she asked knowing full well the answer. “If you wear the make-up down to dinner I’ll let you undress me tonight.” Smiling at Bree’s gorgeous innocent blush she waltzed back to the vanity stool. “Could you do my toe nails in the same silver mist?”

“I don’t want to mess them up. You did everything so well, as you know what you are doing.” Bree replied.

“Bree you need to learn, and it is easier to apply nail polish to someone else’s toes than to your own. We have plenty of time so if you mess up a nail it can always be redone.” She then placed the spacers between her toes. “Except you have pink beneath your silver mist, we both have the same nails and silver lipstick. We’ll have the same open toe wedge and silver accent jewelry. So you’ll be silver blue and I’ll be silver green. Do you know the biggest advantage of having the same colour lipstick on?” After Bree shrugged Leah continued. “We can kiss and not have to always then fix our lipstick.” Leah stole a quick kiss while Bree was stunned from her comment. This was going to be fun.

Bree was left reeling. He had fantasized kissing Leah for nearly two years, but never thought it would occur. Definitely she never expected that it would be Leah kissing him, nor that he would be a girl. He never thought his heart would be racing and thumping so loud surely her steps could hear it downstairs, nor the feeling of light-headed-slight-dizziness. Jeez he was such a girl. Come-on she was kissed and he/she was going to swoon. He had always thought romance novels saying the women swooned were so cheezy. Now she gave herself a female pronoun and just tried to mimic the same cheesy books that when he was a boy he made fun of.

“Are you going to paint my nails Bree?” Leah asked, knocking her out of her internal musing. Knowing full well what the kiss had done.

Strangely Bree was not glad when she finally finished from her kneeled position painting Leah’s toenails. It had taken a few retries to get the coating on smoothly. Now, unfortunately, she no longer had reason to hold one of Leah’s feet. Nor any reason to stare carefully at her foot. Looking up she noticed that Leah had sprawled her other leg sideways causing the slit of the wrap around to open to the waist and allowing him to look at the crotch of her black lace panties. Oh now there was reward for being on your knees. She could clearly see Leah’s parted lips and a moist patch on the materials. Quickly looking up at Leah and seeing her watching her she gulped.

A knock on the bedroom door had her spring back and hit the door to Breanne’s clothing cupboard. She had just righted himself when her step-mum entered. “Oh you two ladies look lovely. I am going to have to get myself dressed too. Leah, are you going to go barefoot it would be a shame to hide those toenails in the trainers you were wearing?”

“Bree’s going to let me borrow her other pair of wedges once these dry. She painted them. Her first set of painted nails so of course I am going to show them off.”

“Wow Bree, you did them well. You’re going to be able to paint your own too, now. Anyway, dinner will be in fifteen minutes, so don’t mess up your make-up. I’ll see if Dan is willing to dress up a bit too. So, dinner in fifteen, actually make that thirty minutes, okay?” After getting two sets of acknowledgments she let herself out re-closing the door.

“Bree, I love your mum.”

“Step-mum…

“Come on Bree, cut her some slack she’s been your mum now for like half your life. She thinks you were hiding your breasts and yet she goes out buying you new clothes. She could have said for punishment you can wear the wrong sized stuff. Or forced you to get used clothing, but no she bought you new, and brand name clothing that is currently in style.”

“Well I wasn’t the one hiding them, and I am sure forcing a child to wear clothing that doesn’t fit is some kind of child abuse.”

“Not if it was the child that tricked the parent, and she doesn’t know that it was Mark that was hiding stuff from her unless you’re willing to admit what happened.”

“Well she was the one that took us away from my Grandma. Off to another country…

“Where you met me, are you not happy to have arrived here? I thought you liked me.” Leah pouted putting it on a little thickly.

Bree came up short on that one. Realizing her first few comebacks would hurt or insult Leah, she had to really think a moment. If she was about to start a relationship with the girl of her dreams then she couldn’t be mad at her step-mum for uprooting him or she wouldn’t meet said girl of her dreams. Saying he would have met someone else, though potentially true, would be at best cruel to Leah. At worst, and of course more likely, blow any chance of catching the girl. Further, unless she thinks her steps were some kind of mad scientists that experimented on children she had to figure this whole gender swap thing was going to happen whether she was here or still back in the states.

What were the chances if he was in the states, of the girl he was then chasing as his dream girl, would like Leah, actually bat for the other team. Thus still be possible to catch when last night’s madness occurred. So she was left having to re-visit his preset rant against his, no her step-mum. “My mum died for us. My grandma that raised us said that we must never forget that her daughter gave her life for us and we should call her grandma to honor what her daughter, our mum, did for us. She said that we must honor our mum by not giving anyone else that title.”

“Okay I can see that.” Leah said to diffuse the situation a bit while she internally thought about how the grandma had manipulated her grandkids to dislike their new step-mum. “So I was wondering if you were interested in another kiss.” Needless to say Bree was extremely happy to try out some more kissing.

Having fixed Bree’s and her own make-up after their make-out session, Leah decided she had put together a good argument to make Bree see that she had a good step-mum. “Your grandma is not selfless, Bree.” Seeing Bree about to interrupt Leah continues quickly. “No listen to me on this. Being a bit selfish is not bad. In fact it is vital and Bree, you really need to be a bit more selfish at times. Your grandma, just like everyone has an agenda. She had lost her daughter, and needed her grandchildren to acknowledge that daughter, to minimize her loss.”

“So what’s your agenda?” Bree angrily retorted.

“Oh I have many, but to stick on topic, the ones in regards to you are as follows. I want to have all your attention. In order for that I want the relationship between you and your parents to improve. So they have a vested interest to keep me interacting with you. If I can encourage you to do things that your parents want you to do then I get more time with you. For me this is easy because your parents don’t know of the change. Where I teach you to fit in as the girl you now are, they see the metamorphosis of an angry tomboy that hated anything girly into a polite pretty happy daughter.”

Bree stared at Leah trying to work out what she had just told her. It was bad wasn’t it? Manipulative even, then why did it seem good for her?

“Bree, hopefully you are interested in me. Acting on that feeling is selfish. The reason that is not bad selfishness is because it aligns with my selfish desires. I have been granted my wish. I wanted Douglas’s mind in Breanne’s body. That Bree, is who you are. I get my cake, and eat it too. What I am trying to explain to you is that in business and life there are four types of transactions, and you should always strive for ones that are win-win…

“Leah, what are you talking about?”

“Bree, humor me. This was told to me by my Grandpa when I was mad with my parents for grounding me and returning Alexei’s DS3 a couple of years ago. ”Leah held up a hand to stop Bree from interrupting her. “I had tricked Alexei with a win, loss transaction. That is I won and Alexie lost until my parents grounded me, and forced me to return the DS3, and then I lost completely on the transaction.”

Leah paused and stopped herself from going off track. “My Grandpa finally made me realize that I shouldn’t be angry with my parents, because a win-loss or loss-win transaction will at best help one side of the transaction once. You will only trick or be tricked by someone once so it is a bad end to a transaction between friends.”

There was a knock on the door and it opened to admit Misses Parson wearing a floor length crimson ball gown with scooped neckline. She was also holding a bag. “Leah, your Mum dropped this off for the sleepover and it has your school uniform for tomorrow. Shall we now head down to dinner? I think Dan will have got everything onto the table.”

So did Mister Parson and Mark dress up nice and handsome for dinner too?” Leah asked, with a smirk.

“Oh, my husband has washed up quite nicely, thank you Leah. Mark I am sorry will not be eating with us as he is out with his girlfriend this evening.” Both girls were shocked by that comment. “Breanne, I know how badly you wanted to do the tennis mixed double with Douglas…

“I do not want to play tennis with her…im!” Bree started off exclaiming then forced the ‘im’ as she corrected the pronoun. How could Breanne do this? He knew exactly what she was going to say too. ‘Bree aren’t I the super nice brother I will be the partner you wanted me to be for the mixed tennis that prior to turning over my new leaf and becoming Mark, when I was Douglas, I had no interest in doing.’ Then in private ‘if you don’t accept they will know we swapped.’ This was not going to happen. Leah had said she wasn’t selfish enough. Brea… Mark was not going to walk all over her and get his bloody tennis! The nerve of…

Leah was suddenly hugging her Jubrelie, and frantically rolling her eyes trying to convey the items she couldn’t say. Also rubbing Bree’s back soothingly. “Bree it’s okay relax. Your mum is talking about Mark’s girlfriend playing as Douglas’s partner. Not you, I think.” She almost whispered the last part.

Bree heard her step-mum nervously laugh. “Well this went different than I expected, but I think Leah has a better grasp of what I meant to say. I thought the explosion would be elsewhere so I messed up the delivery of this.” Ellin took a breath and ensured the crisis of a nuclear meltdown had been averted at the current moment thanks to Leah’s intervention. Pausing she got back to the point, having rearranged the order of her planned spiel. “Mark has a girlfriend who wants to be his mixed double partner. I hope you aren’t upset he chose his girlfriend instead of you. I know, well I thought I knew…

“That’s great mum, I know how much I’d tried pestering Douglas into being my mixed double partner, but I thought he was going to suddenly force me last minute when I’d accepted I wasn’t going to play in that tournament.” Hopefully, using the mum card would distract her mum from wondering why her daughter was no longer interested in tennis and win brownie points from her girlfriend.

“Dan and I are going to check our friends with sons…

“Please mum, I really, really do not care, and don’t want to enter. I am no longer interested. I mean it, mum. Do not try to set me up with anyone…

“Even if it is with me?” Leah asked. Bree enjoyed the feeling, Leah was still hugging her so tightly, it was really nice.

“It’s mixed doubles…

“I look quite dashing when I dress like a boy. However, I wasn’t talking tennis.” Leah let Bree know, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Leah Anne Martins!”

“Misses P. you know my middle name?” Leah stated after the initial shock of thinking her mum must have arrived.

“I might have heard your mum yell it at you, a time, or ten.”

“Oh.” Then trying to hide her blush she carried on. “Shouldn’t we head down for dinner? Poor mister Parson might think he needs to send out a search party.”

“Poor my foot! The man has three beautiful ladies as his dates for the evening.” Ellin’s smile couldn’t be bigger. Her daughter had called her mum, and not just once. Ellin had never thought this day would come. Sure she’d hoped it would, but thought it never could. She needed to work out what Leah was interested in. It was Christmas in two months.

A rolling boil...

~o~O~o~

CAUTION - This chapter contains flashback to a traumatic event. There is no graphic description of the event but it is referenced by a character's words while they are having a flashback and reliving it. This is the most traumatic section of this story, and as it is my first I might be being overly cautious in flagging it.

Chapter 7

Mark stumbled across the landing, after closing what had been her bedroom door behind him. Frozen into inaction he just stalled in the mid landing on his planned trip back to his new room thinking on what he had just learned. How his sister, and she was most definitely his sister, had escaped from the prior cocoon of being his slightly effeminate, totally useless, pathetically weak brother that he hated, into a confident sure girl. One that obviously was happy and had fully embraced being female.

It broke into Breanne's cycle of hatred for all things Douglas, and pushed her into truly accepting what would be coming soon. Her immanent gender swap which she now realized Mark hadn’t thought through to the final goal properly before. She had wanted to be male because females were weak, females could be hurt, and she hadn’t been in control when she was a girl. If she couldn’t rely on males to protect her then by god she will be male, and protect herself. Further, her useless brother should be a girl, he was a failure as a boy. Well Douglas now was the girl Bree, and soon Breanne would be a young man, so that meant Mark needed to protect Bree. Or he would be a hypocrite in how she thought of her failure of a brother, Douglas.

Now that Douglas was gone, and actually understanding what being Mark would entail, namely being there to protect his sister, meant her disgust of Douglas didn’t have a target. Breaking the cycle made her realize that the standard she’d held Douglas to three years ago was ludicrous. Before her bitter anger, and warped justice, and means to ensure she was never in a situation of not being in control, not being strong, How she easily found ways to blame everyone but herself on what happened, and how she held Douglas most at fault. Had held Douglas more at fault than even frigging Jeremy, the fifteen year old heartthrob she couldn’t believe was interested in her. What the fuck did she expect an eleven year old boy to do?

Of course Douglas had been distracted at the party, with the video game set up. The party that was in the main house for Ansley, Jeremy’s just turned thirteen-year-old little sister, which they were actually invited to be at. She’d left quietly, not wanting Douglas to notice her leaving. Yet she then blamed him for not noticing she’d snuck out of the common area when she knew full well his attention was elsewhere. She’d followed Jeremy’s plan of heading out the back door when his parents were busy in the front of the house, where she was supposed to be. Instead she’d crossed the wooden deck, and went down the steps to the backyard, and saw the door under the deck, as he had told her she would find. She’d knocked, and was happy when he let her in to his bedroom apartment and the private party he had promised her. She was so bloody stupid!

The laundry list of people her eleven-year-old-self, had held responsible for her screwed up life had started with her grandma. The one that showed her pictures of her mum and then ones of herself at the same age, showing how they looked like identical twin sisters. As a four to five year old, or younger child she literally took grandma’s statement that, ‘if her daughter was alive today she would have eventually looked like me’ to make her think her mum was the same age as her grandma. As grandma was identical to mum in her mind she thought of her as her mum. Even if she demanded to only be called grandma.

When she was six and her dad started dating Ellin an eighteen year old where their nineteen year old part-time nanny was still in high school, she took the fact Ellin was a college drop out to mean she was a high school dropout. Looking back now she is fourteen she wonders if their grandma deliberately didn’t fix or encouraged that fallacy to be believed. She does know that her grandma referenced repeatedly that Ellin was a college dropout, a drug using groupie, and that she was a year younger than their nineteen year old nanny, Clair, whom was still in high school, and set to do something useful with her life.

In her mind her dad was trading in mum for a girl two generations younger than his first wife. Having Ellin in the house started a war. Clair was on grandma’s side as she was going to be out of a job. Grandma was also not around as much and the kids were in the trenches of a war they couldn’t understand. Of course her eleven year old self thus added her dad and Ellin onto the laundry list of those at fault for what happened. If her dad thinks he can date a woman half his age she should date Jeremy. She is three fourths his age. She would have never done it if he hadn’t first, she’d used to shift the blame.

At eight years old her dad died in a traffic accident. She was sure it was punishment because he had in his mid thirties married a teenager, basically a girl half his age. Yes, dad was smote because he replaced mum with a high-school-dropout-drug-using-groupie. She hadn’t known then what a drug-using-groupie was, but she knew it was a really bad thing, based on how grandma had said it. What at eight she couldn’t work out was why he was punished while driving with grandma also in the car? Was grandma supposed to be punished for something? Or was the fact she lived proof the punishment wasn’t also for her.

At eleven she had riled wondering when Jeremy was going to be punished. Sure she didn’t tell Douglas what had happened, but he wimped out when she said that next day at school he had to beat Jeremy up for her. He had to, or she wasn’t safe from other boys, and he refused. He let her get hurt, and just had fun playing video games. He needed to be added to the list five times as he was most at fault, and obviously useless.

How had she not seen the ridiculous standard she held her brother to? She had just got so caught up on her hatred for him. Looking for fault in everything Douglas did, as proof she was right to hate him. Looking for ways to lash out and hurt him because he hadn’t protected her. It took Douglas being removed from the playing field for her to see how far she had warped logic into justifying how she must punish Douglas.

Though grandma, unlike dad, survived the car accident, she did so with a broken hip that led while in hospital to an infection and other complications. The upshot of the injuries meant she was physically unable to take care of the twins. So Ellin is added a second time to the list because when she won the custody battle she brought them now they were nine years old to Sydney. If they had stayed in the U.S. then they wouldn’t have been invited to Ansley’s birthday party.

But no, they were uprooted to Sydney, where Leah’s mum, a friend from Ellin’s Northern Territory Jilkminggan school days had relocated. Mary had a job for their step-mum, working as a hair dresser in her salon. So they arrived in Carlingford and got enrolled in Murry Farm School, specifically mister Black’s form 4B class. Unlike the United States, everything in Australia was a competition. Their Sherwood court neighbor Sarah made sure to let Breanne know that mister Black’s class was only ranked second. Her class with misses Swanson, 4S was for the smartest students their age. Of course Breanne knuckled down and ensured Douglas did too so they will get into the top fifth form, and shut up miss smarty pants.

Leah refused to listen to her. She said she was happy in Miss Edmunds class 4E, the youngest and newest fourth form teacher at Murry Farm. Leah stated that as long as her fifth form teacher was just as nice she wouldn’t care if she ended up in the bottom fifth form class. Breanne had a devil of a time to get Douglas back on track studying after that. He was easily manipulated by a pretty face so another couple of reason’s to add him to the list. He probably was listening to Ansley too, when she needed him to protect her.

She recalls the dread, worry and anxiety to see if they made the class list for mister Michaels, whom teaches 5M, which is the top fifth form class. Initially Sarah was gloating as she is on that class list, but the twins are not on any list. Sarah said that they probably have been held back to repeat fourth form. However, Sarah gets worried when she notices that several of the kids she was sure would get in 5M were also on none of the school lists.

Then the twins had a meeting with the headmaster who discusses the goals of their new class 5/6 D which combined the top fifth formers with the bottom sixth formers as there are not enough students for a whole new class in both years, and they want to see if the brightest fifth formers can raise to the challenge, and push the sixth formers as half the class is a year younger than the other half.

The end result was the following year going into high school at North Rocks a year early, while still only eleven years old. It led to them being a year younger than their class mates, and mixing with the older kids of high school like Jeremy. Breanne accepts now that placing Sarah onto the list of people responsible for her getting hurt shows she was scarred to accuse Jeremy. For aside a stupid decision that she made, he was the only one that should have been blamed. However, in her fear of blaming the one at fault she found a convoluted method to blame nearly half a dozen that were not. From out of this incorrect list of who was at fault, her feud with Douglas had been spawned.

Breanne’s epiphany was interrupted when she noticed through the landing window Sophia’s red Hyundai i30N. Well she assumed it was Sophia’s, as she had told him that was what she drove, and she was picking him this evening, and that was the style car that had pulled into their driveway. Running to Douglas’s bedroom she grabbed his tennis racket and the prepared bag and ran for the stairs. Unknowing of her panda blotched eyes, she yelled bye toward the kitchen and the wrinkles, while opening the front door.

Ellin, woried she was about to miss her son leaving, began running from the kitchen, called out to him. “Mark I want you back by nine as it…

“See you about nine thirty,” Breanne quickly cut in, and closed the front door before Ellin arrived. In order to get the return time she needed. Mark had turned his phone off earlier so they could say they hadn’t noticed it wasn’t on later.

“Hi Sophia, nice car,” Breanne exclaimed throwing Douglas’s racket and bag over the front passenger seat into the backseat foot well. Then noticing the gear stick as she quickly sat in the bolstered leather looking bucket seat that wrapped her safely up, and closing the door, she asked. “It’s a manual?”

“Yep, six speed manual; my baby flies, and Speedy is just six weeks old.” Sophia grinned, popping the clutch and shifting into reverse so she could back out of Mark’s driveway. “Is everything good with you and your parents Mark?”

“My steps,” Breanne absently corrected while bristling at the wrong name. “I’m good ‘till nine thirty.”

Sophia held back on joking about keeping Mark out later so he would be bad for her. “North Rocks courts, yes?” she confirmed. Looking at Mark’s panda splotched patches around his eyes and the way he was sitting that just screamed deeply upset girl, that had just been crying.

Breanne nodded and tried to relax into the seat. This was one really nice car. She really did need to force the conversation she needed to place all the cards on the table. Breanne just couldn’t remove her guilt that she knew even if she did that she would still get most of the things she wanted, at the expense of using Sophia. She was still raw from reliving a chapter of her life she thought she had chained closed from herself. Why had Mark let it reopen, she hadn’t wanted that.

Having awoken to how she had used Douglas she questioned if she should be allowed to know she could bare all, and still come up smelling like roses. Sadly there was no way to remove her guilt as her power didn’t hide the overall plot. True it hid some fairly large items like Leah being completely lesbian, and the spring formal she needed to get a tux for and take Sophia to, a week next Friday. They were a few minutes away from the courts, and if she wanted to do this the conversation had to start soon or it would be too late.

Did she have the right to do this, was it fair her using Sophia. From the time in the rose garden Mark had known her personality was beautiful, and saying you must do this or the Center gets me and my twin…

“Do you want to talk about what is bothering you?” Sophia asked deciding to not say his name as he appeared to react badly to it last time. The question intruded on Breanne’s guilt laden wool gathering.

“Sorry I was enjoying your playlist, Cranberries, then Lithium, and now Chvches.” Breanne quickly covered for obviously being too silent. Hoping to get Sophia talking about the music she likes, while still startled by the use of being addressed as Mark earlier.

“You left your house like a scalded cat. I know men like to always appear macho but as you accepted me as your partner. I really would like to know if something is hurting you. You never know I might be able to help you. I can’t if you shut me out though.” Sophia used the word ‘men’ instead of ‘boys’ to stroke Mark’s ego, or as it showed let her know there was something seriously bothering her passenger. How she wished she could have used ‘girlfriend’ instead of the word ‘partner’ though. She sighed how could she get Mark to open up to her? If he saw she could help him, and finally stop hiding that he was transgender from her then perhaps he could become her boyfriend.

“That’s part of the problem. I know you, and only you can help me. I know I can bare all to you, and that makes me guilty knowing that you will help me.”

“Well I like that you think there is something only I can help you with. I could waste my time saying that, what you said is flattering, but I find it highly unlikely to be true.” Sophia slightly uncomfortably stated. “However, I won’t. I am going to use your statement that as I am the only person that can help you, why are you not asking for my help already instead?”

“Because I will be using you,” Breanne admitted, deciding to go with the best option that included her being open with Sophia. At least she felt better that in this version though using Sophia, the girl would know she was being used. Well Breanne figured, she could always chicken out and join the versions that would send both twins to the Center. Then Bree wouldn’t get a relationship with Leah. They both would leave Australia. He could get Bree a girlfriend or there were three boyfriends she could have. She would punish Ellin, but she no longer wanted to punish her…

“Mark!” At Sophia’s yell of that name Breanne found that they were parked in the strip mall a couple of blocks prior to the tennis courts. Sophia had parked the car and turned it off while Breanne was debating what to do. “Thank you for finally actually paying me some attention. I can tell you right now that if this is how you plan to continue spending time with me then to hell with the spring formal.” She took a breath to calm herself. “Now apparently not only am I the only person that can help you, but also you a using me. You are going to start talking, and if you ignore me again and don’t start talking…

Sophia huffed in air while trying to think of what she wanted to say. Finally deciding on saying, “Then when I restart this car it will be because I’m driving you home as we are finished. Are you clear on this?”

“Yes, sorry Sophia. Look there’s no easy way to start this so I’m just going to start. My twin and I, both have powers.” When it looked like Sophia was going to start the car she quickly rushed on. “No, I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve been debating whether or not I had the right to share this with you when I knew how you would act if I told you. It was my guilt of using you that caused me to be distracted, and I apologize that I wasn’t paying attention to you.”

“Okay I am going to suspend my disbelief. What do you mean by you, and your twin having powers?” Sophia asked.

“Well they’re both linked to time. I am not really sure what my twin’s is, but in general terms hers is some kind of control over the present time, while I have a kind of control of future time.”

“Hmm you know it sounds initially quite mysterious, but then it is so vague it could come across as something that couldn’t be proven.” Sophia dubiously stated.

“Oh, I know I can prove both my sister’s and my power before ten this evening. My control of the future lets me know that something critical will happen at nine forty-seven this evening. I must have you with me as otherwise I can’t interrupt my sister’s first ever sleepover with her new girlfriend Leah.”

“Is this the same Leah you mentioned as your first crush?” After Mark’s nod she continued. “Are you planning on using me to break up your first crush, and your sister?”

“No actually this will ensure they’re not broken up…

“You do know that if you are lying to me on this I will never forgive you.”

“I’m not lying on this…

“And yet I hear a ‘but’ in your voice, what are you lying about?” Sophia demanded.

Breanne took a breath then quietly said. “Leah wasn’t my first crush.”

“You actually have already lied to me, when we agreed to answer some questions truthfully to get to know each other.” Sophia clarified. “We said we could refuse to answer, but if we answered we would do so truthfully. Yet you chose to lie.”

“I didn’t lie, Mark was there then, and Leah was Mark’s first crush, and my second crush.”

Sophia zeroed in on the person sat next to her who had just admitted they might not be Mark all the time. How should she handle this? Was their therapist aware of this? How should she talk to them? Was she helping or exacerbating the problem if she called them Mark? Unfortunately Mark was the only name she had to use for them. She was fairly certain though that she was currently in the car with a girl. Mark was a male name.

“Do you want to talk about your first crush?”

“No!”

“Fine then let’s go back to why you want to interrupt your sister, and Leah’s first ever sleepover, and why you need me to do so.” Sophia quickly backtracked from that minefield of the other conversation. She could accept it as they didn’t lie to her, and also avoided a question that they were majorly uncomfortable talking about for now and not that they had lied. However, Sophia felt she needed to return to that probably if their friendship was to develop.

“I must have my sister use her power while I change. If I go home alone I will not be allowed to interrupt them. If you are with me when we get home about nine-thirty, then Ellin will allow us to talk to them for fifteen to twenty minutes.”

Sophia noted internally the things in that statement she needed to get more details on but decided first to stay on her initial line of query. “How do you know your mum will only let you interrupt their sleepover if I’m with you?”

“My power lets me see how doing a specific thing will prevent certain unwanted futures, and enable versions that are beneficial.”

Sophia carefully thought about what they had told her, so far. “Have you used it on me?”

“Well sort of indirectly, yes. That’s why I was quiet in the car. There were still options where I benefit, one of them this one is where I tell you the truth about my power, the other I felt like I would be manipulating you as you would not know about what I have started to tell you, but I knew either of them would still work. Now of course only this option is available to me.”

“So you were debating if you should use me?”

“No, in both options I am using you. I was debating not choosing either and letting something bad happen to myself, and not quite as bad happening to my twin and not use you at all, verses telling you about our powers that would lead to me using you.”

Sophia was trying to work out how she could be used if the person confessed ahead of time to doing so. If she knew everything including the intended using, she couldn’t be used. “You are saying if I knew everything you believe you will still be using me?”

“That is what my power shows me, yes.”

“What is the bad event you see happening if I am not there to allow you to interrupt your sister’s sleepover.

“I need my sister to use her power while I change. That way the precogs of the Center are unaware I changed.”

“Other precogs like you?” getting a nod, Sophia was now more interested in the second mention of a change than the Center, and boy did she ever hear the capital letter on that word, another thing to circle back to. “This change occurs at nine-forty-seven tonight?” When they nodded to her correct guess, Sophia barreled on. “Are you going to tell me how you change?”

“That will be one of the ways of proving we have powers, so yes I will tell you.”

“Will you swear to never lie to me?”

“As long as I can choose to avoid a question…

“Like how you didn’t want to talk about your first crush?” Sophia pushed.

“It wasn’t Mark's first crush, and after nine-forty-seven I will be Mark so it’s not really relevant.”

Sophia was increasingly thinking she needed to delve into the first crush. “And if I think it is relevant?”

“I hope you don’t.” They almost begged.

“What if I say it is a condition to me coming and interrupting the sleepover?” The tears falling down their cheeks and how they folded in on themselves made Sophia feel evil. What was so bad about hiding their first crush? It might be humiliating, but how could it cause this strong a negative emotional response.

“Please don’t.”

“I promise I will not mention about your first crush to anyone. I also promise I will go with you to your house at nine-thirty and try to help interrupt your sister’s sleepover after you truthfully state that it is not your intent to hurt anyone by doing so. However, I’m sorry, but I think I need to know all about your first crush, if you want my help.” Sophia didn’t know their existed an expression that upon witnessing it, made you feel you should swallow your prior words, but she regretted what she had uttered almost as soon as the words’ meaning had been realized by the person that heard her.

With their knees drawn in against their chest their head resting on them and arms tightly hugging their legs to their body the softest emotionally dead whisper began while they stared into the car’s passenger foot well unseeing. Shakes rippling through the tightly held bundled body, and tears now free flowing. “I was eleven, and he was fifteen. Douglas and I were in 5/6D, in primary school. So we had skipped into high school seventh grade a year early. Ansley…

The emotional conflict was too much for them. They continued rocking. Sophia leaped over the gear shift and center console and hugged them to her. She could feel their breast buds even if there was both a binding and normal vest beneath their tennis T-shirt. She had been right they were born a girl, or they had gynecomastia she accepted another choice that would mean she wasn’t correct. Sophia uttered soothing noises while holding them. She was so glad when they relaxed from hugging themselves enough to cling to her instead. Sophia couldn’t help thinking that Ansley was normally a girl’s name. She tried to get their attention that they could stop. She didn’t need to know, but they weren’t hearing her.

They had used ‘he’ not a female pronoun, was Ansley a boy? What was the deal with the oddness of them discussing Douglas as if he was someone else. They were Douglas, before deciding on the second male name Mark weren’t they? She was worried as their eyes were vacant. Figuring she would just hug her while she tried to work out what was going on. Surely their therapist would have resolved this.

Sophia was startled when they started whispering once more in the same voice. The one that eerily sounded dead. “He had told me he could get Ansley to invite both of us to her thirteenth birthday party. We were having a hard time in high school. The other girl from 5/6D who was supposed to be in our class moved… He promised we would make friends and fit in, but I needed to… If I promised him to sneak out of the party to him then he would get his sister to invite us to her party, and we could fit in… He was so good looking… A fifteen tear old boy and he was interested in me!”

Sophia tried to calm them down. She kept telling them it wasn’t important. She didn’t need to know, but it was too late, they were deaf to hearing Sophia, they weren’t in her car any longer. They were back in wherever they were during Ansley’s thirteenth birthday party, and Sophia was along for the ride until they escaped what she had realized was an actual hell.

“He wouldn’t stop… The pain never stopped… His hands were everywhere... The pain… It tore through me… I tried to stop him. I swear I did Sophia… I did try… He said that I didn’t… I’m not a slut… I’m not bad… I’m sorry… I hated Douglas… I was going to use you… He said I was filthy and wanted it… I didn’t… I didn’t… If I say anything then everyone would know… all the high school boys would be told… They would do it too… Don’t say anything Breanne… He would know… He would punish me… He could always do this again… I couldn’t… not again… I won’t tell… I hated Douglas… He was there… I blamed him… But I tricked him… I snuck out… I’m bad… It’s my fault… I have to protect my sister Bree… Not her… This… No… Please…

The stream of words interspersed with sobbing collapsed into mumblings and nonsensical sounds. It was clear that they had multiple names for themselves. They talked of Douglas as if they were a brother instead of it being actually an old name they had used for themselves. They called themselves Breanne, a name that Sophia knew was their sister’s. Now admittedly Psychology was the course she planned to study in university next year, and she knew that just having an interest didn’t make her a psychologist, but it clearly appeared that their therapist hadn’t unearthed this when they diagnosed them transgender. Sophia seriously thought gender dysphoria an incorrect diagnosis. This needed to be resolved before anything like that could be decided, and this was so not resolved.

Sophia allowed them to cling to her while gently rubbing their back and trying to sooth them. They were mewling, with the occasional hiccup. Their body shutting down as they ran out of energy, finally they fell into a restless tormented sleep. Sophia kept saying soothing words, that they were safe. Letting them know they were safe with Sophia, while stroking the sides of their shoulders. Hoping they would fall into a dreamless sleep to escape the hell they were trapped reliving.

Sophia was so far out of her depth on this. Their parents needed to be told. Sophia was sure the Parsons’ didn’t know. She was going to kill the boy, once she got his name. He would be the same age as her now. Most probably he was a senior at North Rocks High School.

Simmering to a conclusion

~o~O~o~

Chapter 8

Breanne suddenly startled awake when she realized she’d been sleeping, hugging someone. Initially panicked she leapt as far as the car’s passenger seat area would let her move away. Her leap caused her rear to hit the dash and her hands clung, one to the dash the other to the door so as not to fall back next to the person sharing her seat. The seat was reclined against the rear seat bench. Thankfully she realized it was Sophia and she tried to hide her panic.

“Hey, there, are you back with me?” Sophia asked them quietly as soon as she’d seen the initial panicked wild animal look in their eyes resolved into calm acknowledgment of where, and with whom, they were with. Trying to not make any sudden moves she pulled her right leg up so she could stretch it over the center console and over to the driver’s side of the car. As soon as they worked out what she was doing she saw the relief shining in their cried out eyes.

“I think we should get you home, you need to speak with your parents about this…

“What time is it?”

“It’s nearly eight…

“You promised if I told you… You said you would interrupt my sister’s sleepover at nine-thirty.”

“We need to talk to your parents…

“Then the Center or Syndicate gets us. They use children with powers. We disappear. The Syndicate will uses drugs and other children’s powers to make us their slaves. We can hide because I will become my brother when I become a boy tonight. My brother Douglas became a girl last night. He is now Bree, and if I show to you that currently I am a girl, then after the change at nine-forty-seven that I am then a boy, you will help, and keep my secret. My power says so.”

“Your power allows you to change your gender, when you like?” Sophia asked suddenly concerned, and angry.

“No, all the children go through that change once when their power first awakens. It is outside our control. The disturbance of an awoken power, or if we lose control of our powers by being too emotional, are what alerts the precogs of the Center or Syndicate to know it will happen. Bree’s power somehow prevents them being aware of us. We can swap lives so there is no paper record for the Syndicate or Center to follow. With no trail to follow they will be unable to find us. But, this only happens if you do as you promised. If we tell my parents, if anyone else looks into this then either the Center or the Syndicate will always show up. It is just a case of which one gets here first to steal us, and hurt us. We always end up being kidnapped by one or the other.

Sophia was left thinking one should be careful when asking how something can be. For she now knew of a way she could be used, when knowing full well she was being used. What’s worse she knew unless she could see she was being scammed, she would let them use her. If they were truthful about the Center and the Syndicate then she will help them cover this up. She will, willingly be used.

“Back up a moment, your power told you it will be awoken at nine-forty-seven tonight. You don’t have your power yet, but you talk of using it already.”

“I got brief moments of my power working prior to tonight's full awakening happening. The full awakening occurred for my brother now sister last night, and I've seen that mine will happen this evening. I’ve had three of the brief moment occurrences. The first one enabled me to save Dan from getting the speeding ticket. The one he talked about at lunch today. The second was the most involved, and occurred while at lunch. It showed me some nasty things which were what made me sick, and from it I knew I must accept whatever your mum had offered while I was distracted, too busy looking at some horrible possible futures that could occur…

“When you said yes to my mum you didn’t know what you were agreeing to?” Sophia interrupted.

“Correct it was a huge surprise when you started gushing about never having a date when going to a dance before, and how happy I had made you and all the things we would do…

“You didn’t want to go to the dance with me, when I thought you had asked me to it?” Sophia part asked, part exclaimed.

“Sophia, all I knew was it was critical I accept your mum’s offer. I had no idea what it was. I was rather busy seeing hundreds of different versions of the future two weeks, and most of them were really bad. As I selected different options I noticed that all the best ones were lost if I didn’t say yes to your mum right then. So for that reason I came back in and said yes. So yes I became aware of a lot of surprises, one was going to the dance with you.”

“So you don’t want to go with me, and only are because your power said you must…

“Sophia, I have got to know you, and I am not unhappy about going to the dance with you. I can’t lie and say it wasn’t a complete surprise as it most definitely was. Having got to know the real you, how on the inside you are the most wonderful beautiful girl…

“But on the outside I’m ugly…

“No, Sophia you are not ugly. Your mum is so beautiful she could work as a model and you father has to be the most handsome hunk I’ve ever seen. Definitely drool worthy. I see a blend of the two of them in you, and that actually excites me. More than that though, on the inside, you are the softest, kindest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Sophia still upset chimed in. “However, I heavily favor my father’s handsome visage on the outside. I’m not blind when I look in a mirror.” Sophia said while taking a few more notes on the true gender of the person before them. “So what else did your power tell you, should be done to manipulate our futures at lunch time, and when was the third time your powers activated?”

“In addition to agree to your mum’s proposal, I also somehow had to talk to you privately and we must finish our meals, which until you made it happen, I had thought those things to be impossible. I had also thought they were separate things to do too, but you effortlessly combined both. Lastly I had to ask you to go to a sleepover when you drove me to play a game of tennis later in the evening. I was positive that one would be impossible until Bree told me she was having a sleepover just before you picked me up, and I realized if we interrupt their sleepover during the critical time, Bree can use her power on me while I change so the Center don't find out. Then you’ve been invited to a sleepover by me even if it is for just fifteen minutes, and it wasn't as I thought incorrectly, my sleepover. So impossible weird request, I suddenly found to be perfectly doable. There were a few other things I needed to do to get my sister, and Leah to become girlfriends. Obviously that was so they had a sleepover we could crash. Oh, and the third time my power was briefly active was on the drive home from the Lodge, and it involved me having to moo at my sister, among other things to help them become a couple.

Sophia stared at this wildly amusing wonderful person. She wanted to be part of the madness that would obviously be spawned from her seeing the route to the best future. Life would be great if she had someone say ‘we need to cluck like a chicken and we will get concert tickets’ or some other nonsense. “What name do you want me to use for you?”

“Call me Mark.”

“I don’t think you are Mark, though.” Sophia carefully stated.

“Not yet, true, and I’ll still look more like a girl than a boy even though my genitals will change, but tonight I become a boy, a girly boy true, but a boy, so I need a boy’s name.”

“You don’t have to. My friend dresses as the girl she is, and has a girl’s name though the body she was born with was male and she was incorrectly named Jonathon when she was born. I think you shouldn’t shut off yourself to the side of you that is a girl, and that is going to be one of my requirements.”

“Requirements?” the person worriedly queried.

Sophia took a breath, was she really going to allow herself to be manipulated? It seemed she was. “First requirement is that you truthfully answer me. For the second, I need more information. Let’s start with how these children get selected. What is different about them that as teenagers they will swap genders, and get super powers?”

“Remember that I see possible futures, images, spoken words and noises along with the key points in the present that are like switches to toggle between them.” Seeing Sophia was about to interrupt, Breanne indicating to give her the time to answer her question. “Thus it is primarily discussions from the versions of the future where we went to the Center, and where we as new 'candidates' were given an explanation about what had happened to us, and why. So my answer is from future seen information from Center agents explaining what happened in the past, to cause these children to be the ones this happened to. So it might not be true, there are things I know the Center lies about. This seems truthful.”

“That is perfectly acceptable. Then answer as truthfully as you can or indicate like you did here that the source is questionable.”

“Apparently some experiment in the United States had a leak of a chemical that got into the water intake of a company that bottles drinking water. The Center or an organization that created, was affiliated or linked to the Center later was in charge of monitoring the people that drank the contaminated water. When after a certain amount of time they saw no side effects they stopped their careful monitoring and thus lost track of a large number of the people that drank the water.” Breanne looked at Sophia to ensure she was following her so far. “There might be shipments of the contaminated water that they lost track of too.”

“So you and Bree both drank the contaminated water…

“No our mum did while she was pregnant with us. That was something they hadn’t thought of, and that is the common denominator. All mothers’ died around childbirth like ours did. So the Center covered up for the company that killed our mum and everyone else’s. They also kidnap the children. They say it is to protect them from the Syndicate.” Breanne drew in a haggard breath.

“For all I know there is an organization that has two departments, the Syndicate as one, and the Center as the other.” Breanne put to words her must scary worry. “Then they control one group completely using kids with powers that like to be nasty to others, and using drugs and any other illegal means. This allows them to relax control on the other group slightly, but they tell them that their sexual orientation will flip one-hundred-and-eighty and have a program which to me seems if not brain washing at least controlling and manipulating. In all cases the children are stolen from their homes, their families and their lives. They are told to not complain or the bogeyman, ‘The Syndicate’ will get them. It just seems too pat, too much like an easy way to control the kids.”

“Why do they flip the children’s sexual orientation?” Sophia asked.

“The Center must be invisible, not noticed by anyone. If their groups of children had more gay and lesbian relationships that heterosexual they would stand out. Normally in a group of school kids most are in a heterosexual relationship, by flipping what they were prior to the gender change they keep the percentages similar as would be seen in a large sample of not gender flipped children. Thus not stick out and be noticed. The Center is training these powered children like soldiers or spies, currently to get the children that awaken with powers before the Syndicate gets them. However, I can see how easy this could be abused and lead to wars. At a minimum between the Syndicate and the Center. But what if they become a countries secret weapon.”

Sophia reached across the car to gently stroke their shoulder. “I will help you. We will interrupt your sister’s sleepover and you are probably going to hate my conditions but though I will benefit from them, they are for you too. You likely won’t believe me.”

“I don’t care, the only thing I want is for you to be at tonight’s sleepover. That only us four at the sleepover know and all promise to not tell anyone else. I will not mind your conditions.”

Sophia laughed and said. “You should be careful and not offer that to just anyone. Any way, first you need a name.”

“I have chosen Mark.” Breanne said.

“Your name must be gender neutral.”

“What, why?”

“I thought you said that you didn’t care and would be fine with anything I said.” Sophia pointed out.

“I want to use a name or at least have it nod to a name that my mum chose.” Breanne hoped, unknowing that her breathing was becoming erratic with her agitation.

Sophia calmly diffused the building anxiety by inquiring. “Of course, but then I need you to tell me the full name you were given at birth, the one Douglas was given, and your birth parents full names.”

Breanne allowed her breathing to settle back. “I was named Breanne Julie, and Bree was named Douglas Marcel. Our middle names are our parents’ Christian names. I don’t know their middle names.”

Sophia recalled one of her prior psychology assignments that had included working on names and their gender prevalence. “Well gender neutral names closest to your parents would be Marley and Jules, so what do you say to being named Marley Jules Parson so you can honor both?”

Breanne couldn’t understand why this simple thing made her smile. It must be because she was honoring her parents she decided.

“Next this is my senior year, and in addition to the spring formal, I have the débutante ball, our senior prom and the Lodge has the Christmas and New Years balls. So I would like you, Marley Jules, to be my date for all five events.”

“It would be my pleasure…

“There’s something more Marley.” Sophia interrupted her. “For one of the Lodge’s dances you will wear a lady’s ballroom dress, and you will be my female date.”

“No, Sophia, I will be a boy. Boys don’t wear dresses.”

“Marley I am not convinced you are a boy, and for the rest of my senior school year and the Christmas summer holidays, we will explore you being a boy and a girl. Up until I go away to college we will see if you are my best male friend, one of my great female friends, my boyfriend or my girlfriend. There is no requirement you must be rigidly one or a combination of them. The key thing is we will have fun, and you will be open to exploring both boy and girl items.”

“I will be a boy from tonight on.” Marley pointed out, sounding a little like a petulant child.

“Marley you have never explored the wonders of being a girl. You need to be able to live both to be able to decide what is best for you to live as.” Sophia calmed her stroking her shoulder, wishing she hadn’t shaved her head so she could stroke the shoulder length hair she’d had before.She'd need to look into wigs tomorrow after school.

“I’ve had fourteen years living as a girl, I don’t need to explore my feminine side.”

“Marley you have spent your preteen, and teenage years denying Breanne’s existence. You have not lived as a girl, and to become a healthy adult you must. So we will be having several sleepovers with your sister and Leah. How you think the fifteen minutes tonight counts as a sleepover.” Sophia just shook her head in exasperation.“If anything thinking that proves you know nothing about being a girl. Further, to quote your own power, it said you needed to invite me to a sleepover on the way to playing tennis this evening. So you are inviting me to one this Friday, if you don’t then the future you know as the best one is in jeopardy. We will do each other’s nail, hair and make-up. It is required by me. Just like having a date for my formal dances I would like to experience a high school girl’s sleepover while I am still in high school, and not just fifteen minutes of one I wasn't invited to.”

Marley’s expression was a study of contrast. Sophia was sure she saw the gleam of excitement at the idea. Then again she could be projecting onto Marley. Really Marley needed therapy but the paper trail would likely get the Center and the Syndicate involved in controlling the twins lives which was absolutely the worst thing that could happen.

No she would be there, a friend to talk to, and someone to lean on. She would keep Marley safe while making sure she experienced both girl and boy activities in a safe environment. She knew at times Marley would think they were being pushed. However, she would try to not project on to them. She wasn’t such an egotist to think she could be Marley’s therapist.

But, she could be her friend, and unfortunately she would likely be the best Marley could get while staying safe. She now knew why Marley’s best outcomes involved her believing she was using her. She just hoped she kept herself grounded; this person’s very fragile personality was what was at stake. She couldn’t afford to mess up. She needed to air on the side of Marley using her, to ensure she didn't become the user.

“Just the four of us at the sleepovers, though.” Marley said.

“Well there is one other that must be there.”

“No I can’t let anyone else know. It must be kept to just the four of us. I am sure of that.”

“Marley, do you remember me talking about my friend, the one that was thought a boy when they were born and incorrectly named Jonathon. They’ve never gone to a girl’s sleepover event. Their parents wouldn’t let them, because until the summer after their eighteenth birthday they can't get rid of their birth defect.Early this summer holiday she's getting SRS as their Christmas present, but they will have finished high school before then.”

“Sophia, I know, and if it wasn’t that I was positive that this secret must not be shared with anyone other than the four of us. I would so want to share this with your female friend. I am really sorry that I am denying her this chance, but it just won’t work.” Marley felt it was so cruel to think everything could work out then have just one thing be the item that denies her chance at a happy life. She knew though that at most it must be limited to the current four in the know. She knew if Sophia pushed she would let the fifth girl join them, and either the Center or Syndicate would be her future.

“Marley, you never asked me for my friend’s real name.” Sophia gently prodded. “Her true name is Sophia.”

“Like yours.” Marley said sadly knowing how Sophia would keep telling her things about her friend in order to get her to know her friend. Then it would be harder to refuse accepting them. However, Sophia was looking at her funny, like she expected her to figure something out. So the friend had the same name...

She looked at the smirking Sophia, before suddenly realizing what Sophia had told her. The beaming smile on Marley's face was a keeper, and complete with glistening eyes, it was a wonderful sight. Marley didn’t think she’d ever understood or experienced happy tears before.

~o~O~o~

And thus my fellow friends 'Out Centre' comes to a simmering Conclusion

I hope you have enjoyed and feel the time spent was worthwhile
Thanks
Fallen Leaf

Thomas Allan Wehl’s silver tongue has got him out of many tight spots. From age thirteen he has finely tuned his skills in conning bartenders to serve him beers to the point that here he is at age fourteen and seven-twelfths quaffing pints and abetting in the delinquency of pretty minor girls. Can her silver tongue get him out of trouble as fast as it’s getting her in to it?

It was my last day of half term and I was bored and wanted to enjoy the sunny early June day in Hessle. I’d done my usual trick of going into the local pub and asking for two pints. The twenty quid note clearly visible to the land lord / bartender on a slow Monday pre-noon lunch splutter. I had my date of birth ready with the year four years prior to the actual one, but as I thought I wasn’t even asked if I was over eighteen. I was likely the first sign of business he’s had, and he probably was the owner desiring to get some money to prime a hopeful lunch rush.

After popping some of the loose coins in the tip jar and sticking the ten spot and two pound coin in my pocket, I took the two beers out to the bar garden, so he’d think the second was for my friend. Yep, as I only shared two long weekends between my Grandma’s in Hessle and my Uncle’s in Elloughton each year, I didn’t have any friends here. I didn’t really have any at home in Helston, or at my boarding school located fairly close to the dead middle of the Yorkshire Moors. In other words, the middle of nowhere.

If you zoomed in on the Yorkshire Moors with likely the highest rez’ zoom of an internet map you’d finally see deer trails with the hamlets Cockayne and Glaisdale. Draw a line between the two. The center of that line, where the map doesn’t even show there to be a dear trail let alone any name for the surrounding area, is more or less where the thirty odd acres of my boarding school is located. Anyway, I was enjoying my last full day of my holiday and planned to drink the beer and hopefully have a great end to my Summer half term.

Seeing nothing happened as I drained the dregs of the second glass I decided to walk to the next pub. See I’d found that it was the second order of two pints that usually didn’t work. That’s no problem in the UK as a few minutes walk and there’s a new pub ready to get its mitts on a twenty quid note. That’s strange too, I mean I’m getting more than thirteen pounds back, but somehow try to pay with four two pound coins a five or even a ten spot and the success rate goes down. I guess they figure only an eighteen-year-old has twenty-pound notes in their wallet.

Perhaps the beer gave me courage, or maybe the girls were bored and wanting to do something before they too return to school tomorrow, but taking a shot to try to pull seemed almost easy. Perhaps some none verbal communication had clued me in sub-consciously that I already had their interest. It likely was all working together for once, and I had rolled a one on my ‘D-100’ saving throw.

“Hey girls you fancy a pint at the lion?” I boldly asked instead of just shyly walking by them both, as they cut out of the lane on my left, turning toward me. The delivery went off without stutter or any sign of being nervous while I pointed behind them up the street a bit where the next pub was. It’s slightly mis-hung sign displayed in faded and gone paint ‘Tne Ped L or ’ with a single lion image in dusty red on a dirty white background, that was likely once bright red on pure white.

The two giggled and looked at each other the brunet’s cheeks gained a slight blush. The blonde though was made of sterner stuff. “Aye, I’m Anne Marie and this’s my friend Melisa. So you’re inviting both of us to the pub? We’ll get kicked out as we’re both fourteen, girl, and the land lord knows me’ Da.”

Well true I was a bit skinny and my near blonde locks brushing my shoulders were close to the max length the school allowed the boys to wear their hair, but I figured perhaps she thought I was eighteen and thus a girl as I was obviously too short, nor carried the bulk, for an eighteen-year-old lad.

“I’m Thomas, a boy.” I added the emphasis because I was nervous and wanted to not be mistaken as a girl. “And I’m fourteen too. Ya’ don’t even have to come inside. I’ll bring the three pints to the garden outside.”

“You really can get beer served from a pub?” Melisa asked nervously. She was a cute brunette, but definitely the wing-lass to Anne Marie’s ace pilot.

“I just finished two pints at the black swan.” I boasted.

“Oh, I can’t do that. My Mum would kill me.” Melisa said, and I thought this was the beginning of when my luck would turn to its usual kind. I concentrated on memorizing their beautiful bodies before they left me alone.

Anne Marie was a willowy blonde with two dimples on her smiling and mischievous face. “Tom boy, you going to get two beers from this pub too then, and bring them outside to us, lass? Melisa you can have a sip of mine, unless she’ll let you share hers.”

Well I hadn’t been shot down, so I took the joke of being referred to as a girl thrice more because she hadn’t shot me down and a little teasing was good to break the ice at the start of a relationship. “Melisa I can get you, your own pint too.” By now we had got to the side beer garden of the pub. It wasn’t as nice as the black swan’s that was a true garden. The lion’s looked like it doubled as overflow parking too, as a stretch of gravel ran up to the two wooden tables that were almost an afterthought beside the fence.

“No, a sip or two is all I want.”

Well that made it easier. I was ordering what I always did so had full confidence it would work. “Tom boy, we’ll save you a seat here then lass.” Anne Marie said jumping up on the table and likely deliberately flashing her knickers beneath her mini skirt before crossing her legs. Seeing me looking, and likely blushing, she winked. “Be careful of the peddler.”

“Peddler?” I asked then saw the pub’s sign with missing letters and laughed at Anne Marie’s joke.

Even with a small lunch crowd inside from the heat, I easily got my two pints from the bar and ensured I didn’t spill any at the two steps before the door that was a bit hard to navigate with the indoor dim lighting change to bright outdoor sunshine. Using my bum to open the door I was heading back. The girls were still there. I must admit, I’d been worried they might have left. Melissa was glancing nervously all over the place, and I was glad I’d left her outside while getting the beers. Crossing the gravel with my own Cheshire cat grin I made to hand one pint to Anne Marie.

“Pop them on the table as if they’re both yours.” She shook her head and I now was thinking could they be working as undercover agents for the police. They both looked fourteen. Melisa could be fifteen maybe, but not eighteen. My paranoid brain though was all ‘this is too good to be true, ergo it isn’t.

After glancing around though Anne Marie picked up the pint and took a draught that let me know she was familiar with drinking. She had to coax her less svelte friend in to drinking. However, after getting her to take the second she then offered mine for drinking too. “Melisa you should take a sip of Tom boys too.”

“Sure Melisa, this is my third, so it is better if we share.” I offered not wanting to appear a skin flint as Anne Marie was sharing hers.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course, not I’ll share a pint with you any day.” I flirted, and it must have worked as she actually held my hand to steady and control the glass as she daintily sipped several times. Still with her hand over mine holding the glass she pushed the glass toward me.

“Your turn.” Melisa said and as I looked over the glass into her brown eyes taking a deep gulp, I saw the pink lip stick stain on the far side of the glass she’d left on my glass.

“I think I’m jealous. We should take a sip from each other’s glass too.” Anne Marie said twisting her glass then holding her glass out to ward me. She’d uncrossed her legs again and with the slight parting of her legs the black lacey panties were partially visible once more. Needless to say I wasn’t looking at either glass.

As I was initially looking elsewhere than at the glasses, I was just about to take a sip before I realized I had to glance at my glass to ensure I was correctly lining it up to tip it into Anne Marie’s mouth. Her glass on my lips informed me to open my mouth and I was already swallowing before thinking her beer tasted different than mine. Which was odd as I had bought two pints of the same beer. Hers had a slight cherry flavor though.

Even with the three of us sharing both pints I probably drank a good bit more than one of the pints before both glasses being empty. I was happily tipsy where you just have to giggle at everything said.

“You probably should return the glasses to the bar. Mister Hughes hates the glasses being left outside.” Anne Marie told me. The request seemed natural enough that I wondered why I’d never thought to do that before. I did realize that both glasses had multiple pink and red lipstick stains blurred around the rims. That actually made me think they should get back quicker because I wondered if lipstick marks might truly stain the glass if not cleaned off right away.

The bar was empty when I entered. I had to be careful not to fall over when I stumbled on the two steps down just inside the door. The near trip was caused because my eyes weren’t adjusted to the dim interior from being in the bright outdoors, and I’d forgotten nearly stumbling down them last time I entered. It of course brought the bartenders attention fully onto me. Due to that he arrived directly opposite the bar to take the glasses from me as I arrived. “Well if my sobriety test at the door didn’t tell me to cut you off young lady then your obvious make out session with my glassware has. You’ll need to fix your make-up before you go home, or your parents will think you’ve been loose with a boy even if they don’t twig you’ve been drinking.”

“I didn’t… I’m not…” Well there is no way to answer those accusations and not get in more trouble, so I just fled the bar in humiliation.

“Oh, I thought you might bring another couple of pints.” Anne Marie said, as her greeting, which considering I was already flustered didn’t help me in any way. “I was just kidding. You planning on doing anything else today?”

“Just wanted to have some fun before travelling back to school tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, we actually have school starting first thing. Must be nice to only have classes in the afternoon. Where do you go?” Melisa inquired.

“Tomorrow afternoon I travel back to Bellmare Moor School. Classes don’t start ‘till Wednesday though.”

“You want to hang at my house?” Anne Marie asked, and after my nod stepped in closer causing me to take a step back and find myself against the picnic tables bench.“We need to fix our lippy and take a mint to mask our breath.” Anne Marie had a green roll of polos out and after popping one in Melisa and my hands had taken one too. I watched as both girls then took out lipstick. Marie’s red and Melisa’s pink and with the whole both stepping in against me for sharing the polos and being against the built-in seat of the picnic table, unless I rudely pushed them I had a frontline seat to watching both girls pucker up to repaint their lips. “Cherry red or candy floss pink?” Marie asked me.

“Anne Marie, remember I told you I am a boy. Could you step back?”

“Tegan, I know you told me you were a tomboy and I will help you with that. I chose red as you didn’t.”

I could taste the cherry flavor that I’d tasted first with Anne Marie’s beer, as she brushed her lipstick against my lips. “Come on pucker up Tegan, like you’re going to get a kiss. In fact, if you let me do this I will give you a kiss.” Well she’d already started, and I realized the whole bartender calling me a lady meant I’d already got lipstick from the whole sharing the same glasses, and I get a kiss. Well it was a no brainer. I puckered up and accepted Tegan as my nickname. I then got a kiss which apparently meant we needed to fix our lipstick again.

Thus, I found myself between Melisa and Anne Marie, arm in arm, heading back up the side street I’d initially seen them coming down. I was escorted toward downtown Hessle, but before leaving the old houses into the commercial center she stopped at a two-story house in a row of several. About an eight-foot length of newly repainted gloss black fence contrasted with both neighbors’ fence that had the time worn faded old black with rust on either side. The gate opened with minimal squeak in to the postage-stamp concrete front yard. Within three steps, and Anne Marie had the front door opened.

Stairs started on the right against the common wall of next doors. The rest of the space to the other neighbor’s common wall was a small living room. Unless you counted the rear of the sofa as the boundary between main hall and then about three-feet narrower living room. A white sheet was stuck into the side of the stairs with thumb tacks. Whether that meant the area under the stairs was a room, cupboard or child’s den I wasn’t sure.

Sitting in an arm chair that poked into the sofa’s marked hallway to the kitchen was a slightly overweight middle aged man in boxers and white vest. A floor standing fan blew toward his slightly sweaty flushed face, and the thinning brown hair seemed to cling to his head. He was watching a tv that was sat on the final piece of living room furniture. A table with that shiny false wood grain laminate top and four thin plastic legs.

“Tegan head up stairs with Melisa. Da, it’s a crisis intervention. I must save Tegan from her tomboy ways.”

“Wait a moment lass and introduce me to your new friend. You should offer her tea too. I am sure the crisis can wait a few minutes and not interrupt polite manners.” He grabbed a pair of trousers I’d failed to note were on the back of the sofa and proceeded to pull them on while I wanted to back up out of the house, but Melisa was right behind me and not letting me escape.

“Tegan, come over here and let me get a good look at you lass. Bet you are a right boy charmer like my Anne Marie.”

So next I’m going to shake hands with Marie’s Dad, who after partially redressing in front of me is calmly stood in unbuckled-belt-unzipped-trousers and vest as if this is not unusual. He ignores my arm and hugs me kissing my cheek. “Nice to meet you Tegan, so you go to Hessle High School too?”

“No sir, Bellmare Moor School.” I took a step back to get out of the hug. Would it be rude to wipe my cheek? I mean what the hell!

“Tegan take a seat. Oh, let me get my shirt off the sofa. It’s just too hot and I wanted to rest after getting off work. So, a private girls’ school. Where is it?” Marie’s dad pulled his shirt on while watching me sit on the sofa.

“It’s north of Malton sir. It is coed too. My sister goes to an all girls. I could never go there.” I mean of course I couldn’t go to a girls’ school. I was a boy. I was also so thankful I’d turned down the other option my parents gave me, an all-boys boarding school. As how could Tegan be attending an all-boys boarding school.

“Melisa are you going to help Anne Marie bring through the tea?” then as Melisa started to head to the rear of the house he added. “Ask Marie to show you where the foldout table is too.”

“I can help too.” I started to get up.

“No sit Tegan, I want to find out about you. When did you move to Hessle?”

“My Grandma has a house on Tranby avenue, sir. So, I’ve visited here for odd weeks all my life.”

“Will you be back for the Summer?”

“Not ‘till November. My parents are currently in Cornwall, but it’s too far to travel for the half-term holidays so I spend those here with my Grandma.”

“Oh, you’re like Anne Marie, one parent Cornish and one from the East Riding of Yorkshire. I wondered if you had moved here from Cornwall. My wife wanted to name our daughter Tegan, but her niece born three months earlier got given their Grandmother’s name and we eventually decided on Anne Marie. Melyonen, my wife, thought her name was not current, and her Mum would never accept us calling her granddaughter Violet.”

I was so glad I hadn’t mentioned sharing my half terms with my Uncle in Elloughton, as with my Grandma being my Mother’s Mum, and my Uncle being my Dad’s younger brother I wouldn’t have a Cornish parent to explain my name. Thank you, Anne Marie, for choosing such an awkward name for me to explain having. I mean can my Dad still be called John Allan if he has been re-patriated a Cornish bloke?

“So do you know Falmouth? That’s where I met Melyonen. Falmouth Docks won a Naval repair contract and to make deadline hired machine specialist up and down the country. I was there for eighteen months.” Marie’s Father told me, and I smiled and nodded and wished I could escape the house. I mean why did she invite me to her house if one of her parents would be there? I hope her Mum isn’t here too.

“I live close to there. I live in Helston, its a few miles away but I’ve visited Falmouth a few times for shopping.” I had been about to say for the second-hand book store, but figured a more generic shopping would sound more like what a girl would say.

“Oh, yes Falmouth has some nice stores. You will have to talk with Melyonen when she gets home. She’ll want to know which stores are still open.”

I had thought I had been so clever too, but I’d royally screwed myself. I was panicking but the girls were arriving one with the foldout table the other with tray and tea service.

“Tegan is the opposite of you, Anne Marie. She lives in Cornwall and visits her Grandma in Hessle. I mean if she lived in Falmouth instead of Helston she would be the exact opposite. Do you remember us visiting Helston? We’ve done it a few times on the trips to Penzance.”

“As soon as she introduced herself as Tegan, I was like Cornwall or Wales, where do you live, and we quickly got onto common Falmouth shops. Sugar or milk for your tea, Tegan?”

“I’m fine thanks.” I meant I didn’t need tea. I really wanted to get out of the house before the Cornish lady of the house got home and found me out as a boy.

“Wow she even drinks her tea black like you, Anne Marie, and her lipstick’s the same colour, cherry red, yes, Tegan?” Melisa inquired. I found myself with a black cup of tea and could only nod having lost my voice as I suddenly realized how bad my situation was. Of course my lipstick’s the same it’s her bloody lipstick.

I can’t even recall what we discussed while the torture of being a guest for tea occurred. I was actually glad for the escape to a girl’s bedroom while her father was downstairs and would likely kill me if he discovers I wasn’t the Cornish princess he thought I was.

Thomas Allan Wehl’s silver tongue has got him out of many tight spots. From age thirteen he has finely tuned his skills in conning bartenders to serve him beers to the point that here he is at age fourteen and seven-twelfths quaffing pints and abetting in the delinquency of pretty minor girls. Can her silver tongue get him out of trouble as fast as it’s getting her in to it?

“Close the door Melisa. Sit up on this stool, Tegan.”

“I need to leave before your Mum comes home. I don’t know clothing shops in Falmouth.” I started to panic, and Anne Marie calmed me down by holding on to me. Then kissing me. Somehow, I was sitting on the stool in front of her vanity mirror. The surface was filled with make-up, hair brushes, and other paraphernalia. The room was tiny and with wardrobe, vanity, stool and twin bed there was almost no floor space left. In fact, it was rather astonishing said items fit in the room.

“I’ll tell you about the shops while doing your make-up. Then you can talk to my Mum and leave. If you go now my Dad will smell a rat. What do you think he’ll do if he find’s out I’ve been kissing a boy in my bedroom with the door closed, and that you got me drinking beer first?”

While I resumed panicking, Anne Marie whispered with Melisa a bit then returned to hug me before I’d thought to get up off the stool. I blame it on the room being too small for me to think I could fit anywhere but where I was sat with the two of them in the room too. “Can I borrow your silk blouse?” Melisa asked while removing her top. I was staring at Melisa’s brownish coloured bra.

“You can’t wear it with a nude bra.” Anne Marie replied. I didn’t think the bra was nude, it was totally opaque?

“Fine can I borrow a white bra, and your silk blouse?” She then proceeded to take her bra off. “What do you think of my boobs, Tegan? If you sit nicely and allow us to do your make-up, you have the benefit of sitting in a girl’s room while girls get changed.

“I’ll show you my boobs too, if you let me shave your legs and pits.

Once more, look at two pairs of breasts and get make-up put on that I could always wash off later. Shave off leg hair that will grow back and whatever pits are or get found out as a boy in a girl’s bedroom. A bedroom with two girls in varying degrees of undress and that I had contributed to the delinquency of, a few minutes or so, earlier.

End result, after about an hour talking about Anne Marie’s favorite clothing stores in Falmouth and latest girl trends in fashion and getting make-up applied, I was now in the shower of the upstairs bathroom in a pair of girl’s white knickers with the shower door open, but the bathroom door locked. Aside the knickers the only thing I’m wearing is make-up, and talk about jumping in at the deep end.

Eyebrows plucked, eyelids powdered, eye liner drawn, and two coatings of mascara, because it’s supposedly additive or something to the first coating that’s dried and one coating is a job half done. I think I might’ve been tricked on that one. All of that was just the eyes, oh and somehow I forgot the metal clamp eye torture device that I am sure has only one function, and that is to cause pain so plucking eyebrows doesn’t feel as bad next time. Lip liner, lipstick, lip gloss and blush hopefully round out what I let the girls do to me, but I probably forgot something or ten. Anyway, with me are two girls also only wearing knickers, one pair a lacy black, the other a more plain cotton nude.

Yes, I have learnt nude isn’t nude but skin coloured, go figure, and did I really need to learn that. Melisa’s knickers, though briefer than the pair I have on, actually covers her privates, which is not the case with Marie’s thong, and I will leave it at that. I think her knickers are actually naughtier than having nothing on, which is also a new thing I learned today. So I’m snogging with a nearly naked girl, while the other took a disposable shaver to my legs. Every so often they swapped and I would then be snogging with a girl that to all intents and purposes is naked. Occasionally this odorous task was interrupted due to an apparent need to add more of the flowery smelling women’s shaving cream. I think Psych Majors list what the girls are doing as Pavlov’s training version ‘X’. Then again I might be missing a letter or two.

I found out that I shouldn’t have agreed to getting my pits shaved. I kept thinking I was going to get cuts all under my arms when I discovered what pits were. I’ve known my Dad to cut himself while shaving and the shape of the armpits, seemed it should be harder than one’s face, to shave. Maybe it isn’t and when I finally get some facial hair I will find that it is worse to shave your face than under your arms. Thankfully, either they are more skilled than my Dad at shaving, or it isn’t as bad as I feared, as I wasn’t cut once. However, I will be living in a boys’ dormitory for the next five plus weeks and I just know someone will notice before it grows back.

I’d also been duped into the knickers just in case Marie’s Father sees me, but as my bulge was lying diagonally to stay barely covered it was a pointless attempt at deception.My boxers would have covered it better. Wrapping up they told me to use the shower wand to wash off my legs. The cold water caused shrinkage prior to me adjusting the temperature to a more comfortable one.

“No, use the cold setting.It solves the bulge problem.” Thus, I turned it back to cold and bore the discomfort from cold water on legs then lean one arm after the other into the shower from outside it with towel around waist to stop splash-back? Well at least it wasn’t winter.

Having checked the coast was clear I was escorted back into Marie’s bedroom and while Melisa painted my toenails, Anne Marie worked out the outfit I should wear. Twenty or so minutes later and aside the wedge sandals we were all dressed. I’d not realized that aside being a bit taller than the girls I had a similar shaped and sized bottom half to Melissa. Of course, my upper torso which hadn’t yet broadened as it would when I got somewhere with puberty didn’t even have the smaller curves Anne Marie’s sported.

I had a pad added to my knickers, and I was to pretend I was on my period.Thankfully even Marie’s largest miniskirt was too small for me, as she’d wanted me to wear one of her miniskirts. I fit into Melisa’s black cotton knee length skirt and pastel pink blouse, and the other two girls now sport the miniskirts that Anne Marie was planning to have us wear.The black skirt was tight, but I was told this is good as it would force me to take smaller steps. It also on me was though not a mini a good three inches above my knees, as I am taller than Melisa.

Melisa has the white silk blouse she wanted to borrow on. It’s not tucked in. Neither is her pale pink one that I’m wearing. The bottom three buttons of each blouse is un-done, apparently that’s the current ‘in’ style. Being loose it tends to mask my lack of curves. I guess after the girls did something it looked more realistic as now it looks right, where half an hour ago it didn’t really. Marie found a pink training bra that hadn’t gone to Oxfam yet. Having it beneath the blouse makes it look like I have something there. Anne Marie has a hot pink boob tube that leaves her midriff bare and enables me to see her navel is pierced, thanks to the open buttons I can see Melisa’s is too.

Oh, yes that reminded me on the piecing fiasco. It started with me kissing their navels and finding out Melisa’s Mum owns a salon in Hessle, and did the navel piercing. That led them to looking at my dangly earring.

My left ear is pierced. I did it earlier this term at school, and my parents only know about it due to a phone conversation when my cousin, Jessica, informed them, she says, accidently. Well they said if Anne Marie’s Mum sees I have one earring she’ll know I’m a boy. So they pierced the other one. In the wrong place. I mean I looked in the mirror and could see they didn’t match. Thus I used a pen to place a dot on my left ear that mirrored my new piercing in the right, and a dot on the right ear where they should have pierced it. From one left earring piercing that I thought would make me look a rebel boy I now have two pairs of piercings, which just screams princess.I removed my dangling earring as it looked odd having it and three studs. Now with four studs I wonder why I didn’t just remove the one dangly earring.

“Anne Marie, can you and your friends come down please?” A woman’s voice called up.

“What do I do about the sandals? You said to wait fifteen minutes for the polish to dry, not too long ago.”I guess my voice must go into a higher pitch when I panic I noticed absently even though I was nervous.

“Carry them down and tread carefully you don’t want to get something to stick to you nails.” Melisa opined.

“Actually, they’re probably dry by now.” Marie blew on my toes then went to touch the toe that was painted first. Several quick taps later she said they were dry, and helped me quickly put on the open toe sandals.A second call from downstairs echoed up the stair well and we legged it down.

“Hey Melisa, hi dear, and you must be Tegan.” Marie’s Mum said to me after the others and myself had greeted her. “You look so pretty, but you need a haircut. I hope Melisa your Mum can squeeze her in with Anne Marie’s appointment, because, Tegan, your hair really needs some love and care. Anne Marie, grab your thin black belt for Tegan to borrow so she won’t have to change back into her clothes as there isn’t time. You really should have got her to wear one of your skirts rather than Melisa’s.”

As Anne Marie thumped her way upstairs Melisa chimed in. “Melyonen, it was hard enough to get her to where my knee length skirt. She only wears Jeans!”

“Well I’m proud of you Tegan for wearing your first skirt. I’m sure my daughter will have you in mini’s when we visit my parent’s this summer.” Marie’s Mum took the belt from her daughter and threaded it through my skirt’s waist loops. “Dave was saying you live in Helston. We’ll talk about all things Cornwall and shops in the salon but as we go tell me your favorite place to eat in Helston? Come on girls let’s get going.” She led us to the back door.

“I like it when we get pub lunches at a place between Helston and Falmouth actually. I don’t know if it was just great pub food or the name of the place that interested me more, but the pub’s called ‘Trengilly Wartha’.”

“Oh, it’s pretty around there too, the churning creek beneath the bridge and a few falls if you walk some of the forest trails up the stream bed. Yes Tegan, I’m going to enjoy talking to you.

The back garden was walled in with a bit of grass and a few bushes. The gate opened onto a snicket. I had all my clothes and wallet in a Debenham’s plastic bag. I was worried on returning their stuff back to them. They had school in the morning and I would be traveling back to mine in the afternoon.

Once the snicket opened into Hessle town center I knew where I was. “How am I supposed to get Melisa’s and your clothes back to you?” I whispered to Marie.

“Consider it a gift, your first girly clothes.” She whispers back. She is really milking the tomboy joke.

“Come on girls stop whispering we need to get to the salon.”

“I really should be getting back home. I need to pack and you want to get your daughter’s hair cut, Mam. I don’t want to be in the way.”

Marie grasped my arm painfully and whispered in an almost hiss. “Don’t upset my Mum or I’ll say you know what.”

“Let’s see if she has an opening. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t. I really want to talk to you. It’s been nearly a year since I was last home and I want to have a chin wag with someone from home. It would be nice if Anne Marie and you can spend some time together when we come down this summer too.” With no easy way out of it I was herded into the Salon.

Well that’s me snookered.Of course,Melisa’s Mum could squeeze me in, and somehow my hair cut had increased to include blonde high-lights as with Marie adding dying streaks of off-blonde to match my natural light brown or off blonde hair colour. Supposedly the end result is we would look like identical twins. Right, Anne Marie’s Mum is obviously a real joker, and likely the source for the comedic talent in the lass I’ve had to deal with for the last few hours. Thankfully some hot oil thing couldn’t be done.

“So your Mum is Cornish Tegan?” Marie’s Mum asked.

“No Mam, my Mum grew up in Hessle. My Grandma has a house on Tranby Avenue.” Melisa’s Mum was interrupted from jumping in to the conversation as the salon phone rang and she went to answer it.

“Call me Melyonen, Tegan. I want our families to become friends.” Thank you flippin’ Anne Marie, for calling me Tegan, I worried again. Melyonen was still talking though. “How did your parent’s meet?”

“My Dad studied for a degree in Math in Manchester University. They met there.” I wasn’t lying they did meet there; it just wasn’t the first time. No they first met when Beverley Grammar school for boys held a dance for the girls of Saint Mary’s Convent High School.

“Your Mum grew up in Hessle? Maybe I know her, what was her name before she married?” Melisa’s Mum asked unfortunately the phone call didn’t distract her from querying on Hessle gossip.

“Ella Goss.”

“Brin Goss’s daughter?”

“That’s my Grandma.” I was so screwed, of course the salon owner would know my Grandma.

“Didn’t you just move to Cornwall from Yeovilton?” Melisa’s Mum shot her next salvo at our bit of lying.

“Yes, my Da’s an officer in the Royal Navy he was based at Yeovilton, but is now based in Helston.” I haven’t been sunk yet. Hopefully I won’t be questioned specifically about my Dad’s Cornish origins. I just needed to steer the conversation away from Cornwall somehow.

“Well Helston’s not too far from the coast, but Yeovilton is nearly smack bang in the middle of Somerset. What are Naval bases doing that far off the coast?” Melyonen asked.

I had to stop myself from leaping and cheering. Thank you Anne Marie’s Mum for providing what I wanted. “They’re both naval air bases. My Dad is a navigator on helicopters, so he is usually either based on a frigate or shore based at a naval air base.”

“Well Melyonen, we can do the hot oil hair treatment too if you want as I don’t have to worry about the squeezing in of Tegan, anymore. That was Misses Wells on the phone she just rescheduled, and Tegan, it’s your Grandma that has the other appointment I was concerned might slip.” I joined in with the dance Melisa and Anne Marie orchestrated with yells of cool and other cheers. What else was I supposed to say? I must copy the true girls as I’m scared stiff of being found out if I act any differently.I was also in dread, would we be finished and out of here before my Grandma came? She finished up the painting of what looked like light brown glue with the folded tin foil wrapped around the painted hair to Anne Marie and then wheeled the torturer’s cart to the chair I felt shackled to. Melisa arrived with the plastic pot of glue for my hair and swapped it with the used one on the cart. She then left through the ‘private’ labeled door, likely going to the back to clean out the used bowl.

“My daughter has the exact same skirt and blouse and she wears it the same way you do, Tegan. Oh, but your navel isn’t pierced.” Well of course it isn’t. I’m a boy here.

“Oh, Tegan, yes, you should get yours done too. I mean we’re sort of like twin sisters being we have one Cornish parent and one Yorkshire one.” Anne Marie chimed in. Her tin foil bedazzled braids moving as she turned to look at me. What is she trying to get me to have done now? Whatever it is, hell no.

“I know how you girl’s are. Let me quickly do it, and you can button up your blouse. You’re off to school tomorrow and what your Grandma doesn’t see she can’t tell you off for doing.”

I was completely flummoxed on what Melisa’s Mum was talking about. Why would buttoning the blouse stop my Grandma from seeing my high-lights. Maybe she meant I could get out of the salon before my Grandma arrives. “Okay, but quickly please.”

When she lifted my shirt up I was worried she would find out my lack of breasts. Thankfully she didn’t go that far. A large light brown plastic thing was gotten out from one of the drawers. She opened part of it and pushed something in. I had my navel piercing before realizing what I had agreed to.

“There we are then. Let’s just do up the buttons. Melisa get me that cape. I swear daughter don’t you use your noggin or is it just there to attach earring ornaments to.Don’t worry Tegan I’ll soon get started on your hair.”

Well the next near ninety minutes were spent on getting the same tin foil lacquered and layered hair do, with a bowl of more whitish glue though than Anne Marie’s light brown. Mine will do the opposite of what Anne Marie’s glue does. Of course, I was informed that we should get our eye brows looked at while waiting on the hair treatments, and our make-up fixed. Didn’t the twin devils already do that?

Having the foil removed and washed with a flowery smelling shampoo and conditioner that I needed bottles of was next. The kneading of my head was really nice. Heck if this is the usual treatment in a salon I think I would use them from now on for this part. Oil packets that had been heating in a portable plastic boiler thingy, were squeezed onto our hair and combed in. Sometime later Melisa and her Mum used hot crimping tools to straighten our hair. I take it back; the head washing is to lure you to drop your defenses before they attack with the next torture implement.

With hair dried while being brushed I stared at the mirror and wondered where this shiny slick off-blonde with blond highlights hair, came from. My hair was beautiful and after being straightened fell way beyond my shoulders. I felt sad that “I’d have to cut it before school, because straightened it was several inches beyond my shoulders. I couldn’t recognize the beautiful girl looking back, well she looked familiar, but I kept drawing a blank and then thought how I would definitely date her. Is it bad that I think my female self is out of my male self’s league?

“You two could be twins. Just one’s got darker dyed streaks, while the other had blonde high-lights added to obtain the look.” Melisa’s Mum opined.

Anne Marie’s Mum agree. “Doris, you did it perfectly. Now my daughter has a twin sister. Take a picture of me standing between my twins. I’ll label it ‘Daughter, Mum and other Daughter’.” Melisa’s Mum took the picture. I’d have called it cascading skirts, because the skirt of Melyonen’s dress was mid length between Marie’s miniskirt and my knee length one.

“Perfect timing Tegan, that looks like your Grandma’s car.”

Horror of horrors the dark bottle green Triumph with red leather seats was parked on the street outside the salon and my Grandma was locking the driver’s door. I looked at Anne Marie and she finally looked worried too. What do I do now?

“I’ve got to go!” Melisa announced and ran through the door labeled ‘private’.

I was debating if I was better off trying the same or seeing if there is a rear entrance but found I couldn’t move. I was so scared I was frozen where I stood for the picture. I think Anne Marie was frozen on the other side of her Mum too. I kept wishing Grandma to suddenly turn back to the car. Go anywhere; just stop walking toward the salon. The door opened and Melisa’s Mum had to gab.

“Afternoon Misses Goss. I’m sorry I’ve squeezed your Granddaughter in so I’m running a few minutes late. Just give me a few minutes to clean up and I’ll be right with you.”

“My Granddaughter, Helen? What’s she doing out of Queen Margaret’s?” My Grandma’s eyes slid over the three of us and looked around the salon.

“Your other Granddaughter, Tegan.” Melisa’s Mum said and I could see from my Grandma’s bewildered expression that everything was about to come out.

I needed to do something, and I decided all I could do was try a super huge lie and see if I could get away with it. My throat was so dry I sort of croaked and had to pause and start again. “Hi, Grandma, it’s me, Tegan. I made a couple of new friends today and they pushed me to address my ‘Tom, boy’ ways. Things got a bit beyond what I expected. Here I am for the first time ever voluntarily being in a salon, and it seems I delayed your appointment.” I waved with one hand while my other clung to my skirt to stop it from slipping.

“Doesn’t she look pretty Misses Goss?” Anne Marie finally came to offer some help.

My Grandma looked from Anne Marie, her Mum, to me, to Melisa’s Mum and then back to looking swiftly to and fro’ between Anne Marie and me with shock. Was she going to let everyone know the truth?

“Please Misses Goss, let your Granddaughter know ‘ow pretty she is.” Anne Marie looked the picture of pure innocence slightly ruined with the famous Hull accent of dropping ‘H’s, or is that the ‘ull accent.

“I don’t think…

“I know I should have said something Grandma, probably talked to you before. But it’s done and we can talk this evening or tomorrow.” I was likely blabbering but trying to force her to understand my panic and need. Please just once Grandma, cover for me. I pleaded with my eyes and hoped she could grasp what I was thinking and actually do it.

My Grandma finally said. “I think I’d better sit down. Doris do you have any tea?”

“Just give me a moment I’ll get my daughter to make us some tea.”

“Hi, Misses Goss, I’m Melyonen, Anne Marie’s Mum. I guess my daughter really changed the looks of your granddaughter. I’m sorry for the shock, but if she was that much of a tomboy, this must be a welcome relief.” Melyonen was obviously nervous and afraid she’d stepped over the line as my Grandma was just staring at me. I guess Melyonen is one of those people that must talk when no one is talking as she waded valiantly in to fill the silence. “I’m from Falmouth. My parents are still there, and I’m hoping Tegan and Anne Marie can become friends. My daughter is always at a loose end when we visit Cornwall. Tegan says she lives in Helston with her Dad and Mum, your daughter, Ella. Your son-in-law flies in helicopters. You could’na’ get me in one, ‘fraid of heights, you see. Dog’s too. It’s why I won’t let Anne Marie have one. Though where’d we put one anyway. Not allowed dogs in the front or back, and we don’t live in a castle.”

“I never expected to see Tegan in a skirt and blouse. It’s always been jeans and t-shirt.” Grandma finally came to Melyonen’s rescue. I was wondering what weird random fact was going to be thrown out next.

“I take it then the skirt and blouse that look just like my daughters, are my daughters?” Melisa’s Mum said having returned from the private area.

“Yes Mam, I’ll get them washed and ironed tonight so I can give them back to you tomorrow.” I quickly jumped in.

“I know your Grandma has a specific washday. She can drop them back whenever, and I can wash them so don’t bother with that dear.”

“I’ll get them washed with my weekly wash on Wednesday, Doris. I might not be back in town ‘till Saturday though.”

“Whenever is convenient Misses Goss. Here comes the other scamp, my daughter, Melisa, with our tea. Melisa can you clear up, so I can take care of Misses Goss.

“Well, come here girl; let me get a good look at my granddaughter. Stand up straight. Let me fix your skirt.” My Grandma adjusted my skirt and it was back to clinging to me tightly. “Doris you’ve really outdone yourself. Tegan is gorgeous, and I can safely say I never thought I would say that about the prior Tom boy, she used to be.” I internally groaned. On the positive side my Grandma had let me get away with my lie. On the negative I still had a night and half a day to take whatever my Grandma decided my punishment should be.

“I’m so glad, Misses Goss, this is my treat.To be part of helping a girl to finally start the initial blossoming into the woman she will be. Tegan shares my Mum’s name. Doris, what’s the damage?”

“Wait a second Melyonen,I’ll be paying for my granddaughter’s haircut.”

“I wanted to treat her as she, like my daughter, is half Cornish. It was fun talking about Falmouth and Helston with her.” Melyonen said.

“Tegan, when did you become half Cornish?”

“I’m sorry Grandma, Mam. I sort of kept quite so you would assume that was the case. It just seemed easier than trying to correct everyone. With being named Tegan and currently living in Cornwall. Then you all were saying I was like Anne Marie, half Cornish.”

“Your ability to tell whoppers didn’t leave when your tomboy ways did. Lying by omission is still a lie. I must have told you a thousand times, if I didn’t tell you more than once, that a lie that survives is truth’s dagger, and your name, Tegan, comes from Wales. Between your Grandfather’s Goss family and my Wood family you have Irish and Welsh roots prior to all the Yorkshire twining. Tegan is your Grandfather’s Mum. By pretending to have Cornish heritage you dishonor your own name, you’re Grandfather, and your Father who considering he grew up in Skidby and went to Beverley Grammar school would likely be very confused to find out you’d been trying to make him a Cornish man.”

“Ah, it’s no worry. Telling tall tales is a gift, and she likely felt it would make her more comfortable. However,Tegan, I will only forgive you if you call me Melyonen from now on, like I’d asked you to do earlier. She has made strides into becoming a woman, and the fib didn’t hurt me. I did enjoy talking to her about Cornwall and I would like to participate in the initial steps of her blossoming into a beautiful woman. When we visit my parents this summer in Falmouth, Anne Marie will be glad to have a friend there that she can now visit. Misses Goss, could you please let me treat your granddaughter?””

“Melyonen, I thank you for the offer, but I am happy to see and reward the growth of my granddaughter too, and will pay Doris.”

“Can I get acrylic nails done then Mum, like Melisa’s?” Anne Marie asked.

“If Tegan wants them too, I’ll pay for that. Is that acceptable?”Melyonen asked looking at my Grandma.

“Thank you Melyonen, for your generous gift, and I am very happy to accept if that is what Tegan wants. Tegan, please thank and let Melyonen know if you want matching acrylic nails with Anne Marie, like Melisa has.I know your Mum, as a teenage girl, was thick as thieves with her girlfriends, and they always did things together.”

What the heck is Grandma playing at? I looked at Melisa’s nails though they weren’t as long as her Mum’s they still stuck out a good half a centimeter beyond the digits end. If I showed up at school with nails like those…

“Tegan, finally my Mum will let me have acrylics. I’ve been asking for ages. Would you get them too, so I can get them, please?”

“Melyonen, please let your daughter get nails to match her friend Melisa’s.”

“I’m going to. I also want to participate in helping you grow toward the woman you can be. If you think she should get them, then you should get them for yourself too. A friend doesn’t let her friend do something she wouldn’t do too.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t do it. I would love to get acrylics, but my school doesn’t allow them, so don’t penalize your daughter because my school has a stricter dress code than hers.” Ha take that Grandma, my silver tongue found the way out of that trap.

“Tegan, no fibbing, your school has no problem with the girl’s getting acrylics the length Melisa has.” My Grandma torpedoed that excuse.

“Tegan, please” Anne Marie begged.

“Thank you Melyonen for you generous gift, I would love to have matching acrylics…

“Yes!” Well at least two girls were happy, and no, one of them wasn’t me, I am a boy. The two real girls dragged me into their crazy happy jumping about hug thing.

Okay girls you can look at the colours and styles. Melisa show them the book, and get the prep started. I can start on Misses Goss, and will get you both taloned during the wait times, so there’s no undue wasted time.

Thomas is not just failing to see the forest for the trees but oblivious to the trees as he pursues boons while attempting to ignore debts incurred even after they are due. Will he understand what his Grandma is trying to teach Tegan, or keep blaming her?

Getting into the Triumph I startled from my hair getting pulled followed by my head being tugged back by my hair trapped behind by back. “Oh Tegan, you’re going to need to be more careful sitting down and when you go to bed tonight. Lift yourself off the seat and tease your hair up a little before sitting back. That’s right girl now pop your seat belt on lass.” How much longer was she going to punish me with female pronouns? We pulled away from the curb and I started wondering what my punishment was going to be.

“Well young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?” My Grandma asked as she drove away from the Salon.

I pushed myself into the red leather car’s cushions hoping for a miracle. None materialized as we made a third turn and I lashed out at Grandma. “It would have been okay if you hadn’t disagreed on my school’s rules on nails.”

“Tegan, I’m not going to aid you in your lying. I’ve told you that a lie that survives, is truth’s dagger.”

“You accepted me as your granddaughter and being named Tegan…

“Tegan, I didn’t aid a lie there. That was a case of barn doors wide open, and the horse had already bolted. I tried to minimize the impact based on what you had already done.”

“How does me having acrylic nails minimize the impact?”

“This summer Anne Marie is going with her family to Falmouth. That is basically right next door to where you live, so Tegan needs to be in Cornwall this summer. I will likely be pestered by Doris and Melyonen for updates on my granddaughter. Doris will have all my friends knowing about my granddaughter Tegan, and I don’t lie, so I must have two granddaughters. Melisa and Anne Marie have said they will write to Tegan at Bellmare Moor…

“They both know I’m Thomas. They’ll write letters to Thomas not Tegan, so there will be no oddly addressed letters arriving at my school.”

“Their parents might ask to see or post those letters. Your school is not too far away that Anne Marie’s family might not decide to visit. There are too many people that expect Tegan, so by pressing you to get acrylics they will get Tegan. Thomas is gone.

“Then what was wrong with me letting them think I’m half Cornish?”

“Your parents told my Leslie Thomas Goss, before he died that they were naming their son, Thomas Allan, after both him and your Dad. Thomas was both your grandfather’s middle name and his father’s first. As you chose Tegan, I at least brought it back to the man your parents wanted to honor in naming you. Les’s Mum was named Tegan, and now Tegan, you are named after her. Les was my husband, in naming you after him your parents wanted you to be his legacy. I miss Leslie every day. I could honor him, in seeing him in you, and you Tegan, just threw Thomas Allan away, as easily as a piece of trash.”

How do adults make you feel a few inches tall? It was just a lark a bit of fun and she blows it all up out of proportion and brings out the guilt trip. I am left miserable; she is grieving, reminding herself of what she has lost.

“Tegan Allana Lesley Wehl, do you think I’d ever let you, dishonor my husband?”

“I didn’t choose Tegan. Anne Marie introduced me to her Dad as Tegan. He wanted to find out where I lived, and as I answered Cornwall well he was positive I was half Cornish and half Yorkshire like his own daughter. That’s when I found the Cornish link and that it would have been Anne Marie’s name. It seemed easier to be half Cornish so he didn’t question if I was a girl. I never said I was…

“But you never said you weren’t. The ease of the story all falling together, even to the point of what you said and didn’t say is one of the reasons why I think you should become my granddaughter. Come on open the garage door, Tegan.” My Grandma said handing me the garage key from her handbag. I was startled as I hadn’t realized we were already idling outside her house.

“Come on into the back sitting room, Tegan.” Grandma said locking the kitchen door after I’d entered the house. According to Grandma, a house should always have two sitting rooms. The front is formal for guests, and the rear is practical for family.

“Light a fire for me.” She was busily looking for something in the glass cabinet book shelves that were normally kept locked. I took the coal scuttle and carefully poured some coal into the fireplace. This was a more usual task when I visited in November, but I knew that when my Grandma was speaking the way she currently was, you should just do whatever she told you to do. Things just got more and more awkward until you found you had to do it, even if you ever tried not to. Turning the key for the gas valve and striking the match the fire flared from the gas poker through the coal heap I’d poured. Yes, it is always easiest to just do what my Grandma asks.

Once a couple of years ago when I was being a stubborn brat she’d asked me to prune the rose bushes and I had chosen not to, and said I was reading. She’d said fine but I couldn’t read my book until the rose bushes were pruned. Taking the book from me and locking it in the very same class bookcase she was currently perusing. She pushed me outside the kitchen door where the pruning shears and gloves were on the exterior kitchen window sill.

I, being stubborn instead went to play with Mark who lived a few houses down. We’d been playing for a while when Mark’s father came out and said we couldn’t play in his garden as we were making far too much noise and stopping him from working. Mark was all set to let me leave, but I talked him into returning to my Grandma’s house and play football in my back garden.

When we arrived, my Grandma handed me the pruning shears and gardening gloves, telling me she’d now asked me thrice to get done today the pruning of her rose bushes found in this back garden growing along that fence, and it would be better if I started taking care of those specific rose bushes now. I dumped the gardening tools on the garden seat. I always hated the rules she forced me to use with that word, and hoped my friend didn’t question how oddly pedantic my Grandma was in asking me to do an errand.

After we’d been playing for a while I glanced around thinking I’d seen something. The rose bushes seemed wilder than I first thought they were. There was absolutely no way I was pruning the rose bushes as the job was harder than I’d originally thought it would be. Ten minutes later and Mark’s mother arrived saying she needed him to help her with the shopping. I looked at the rose bushes, but they were so thick with braches filed with thorns it would take me hours to prune. Knowing that I left tomorrow back to school, I knew if I just ignored the rose bush today she’d have to get the gardener to take care of it.

I began to dribble the ball around the garden making up an imaginary game. This carried on for a bit until I stumbled accidently kicking the ball at the garage wall. It bounced off the garage wall hit one the swings support posts and ended up in the middle of the rose bushes against the fence. I couldn’t get to the ball unless I cut some of the bush back. It had to be a strange coincidence, but I was determined to stick this out this time. Normally when I got to this point I caved, but was determined to stick it out this time. I kept telling myself I leave tomorrow; nothing could make me prune the rose bushes.

A chattering noise and I see a squirrel pulling one of the gardening gloves toward the rose bushes. Worried I might end up having to do the job without gardening gloves I chased it and thankfully got the glove when it wasn’t too far beyond the thorns. So, I’m on the ground arm stretched out in the soil beneath the rose bush holding the glove when I hear the chattering. Beyond the glove protected by the thorns of the rose bush is the squirrel thief, but behind the squirrel there seems to be a paperback book. It’s my paperback book. The one Grandma took from me saying I couldn’t read it until the rose bushes were pruned.

Well I now found myself pruning the bushes and nearly three hours later I was able to retrieve the football and my book. Though of course it wasn’t my book. I’d been daft to think the squirrel could have got the book from a locked bookcase and dragged it under the rose bush. Nope obviously when the gardener had dumped the fertilizer into the well in the greenhouse, a bit of the fertilizer bag must have torn off and got blown under the rose bush. In my agitated state I’d thought it was my book. However, part of me was positive it had been my paperback I’d seen earlier, and even if it wasn’t the rose bush had not been as overgrown when I first looked at the requested task, I’m sure.

Needless to say, from that day on I did whatever Grandma asked me to do. I left the being stubborn and difficult for my parents. The tasks were always much simpler if done right away than the ones I’d tried to evade. So on a hot early June evening she wants me to light a fire. I’m lighting a fire.

“Sit down Tegan, and take this.” I sat on the sofa beside her where she’d patted, and took the book.

I looked at her and then back at the book.“Do you want me to read it Grandma?”

“Read what?”

Well we were off into weird land this evening. “The book you gave me.”

“I gave you something? What and where is it?” Grandma asked.

“The book you gave me, that is right here, in my hands.” I waved the book at her. “Do you want me to read this book?”

“What does the title on the cover say?”

I went to read the title, and hopefully get some answers but the letters I knew were there on the front cover, now I was giving the book all my attention, were gone. I recalled there were three words in black cursive ink. Now it was just a plain light brown leather covered book. I flipped it over thinking maybe I’d twisted it back to front when I waved it earlier. The other side was completely blank, identical to the front. I just knew it was the back though. The spine matched the back in having no markings aside some straight black lines an inch or so near the top and bottom edges. Other than that, it was blank and offered no clue to what the book was. Starting to flip it back to the front I saw the three words.

However, as soon as I was looking straight at the front it was blank once more. I turned my head and the book at a steep angle and the three words appeared. A long word, beneath it two letters then beneath that the third word. The third word was short but longer than the two letter word. It was ‘Word’. No it wasn’t it had gone again. The first word started with a capital ‘D’. Now it was gone too. It seemed the more I concentrated on anything the less I saw. The annoying thing was if I didn’t concentrate I could vaguely know there were three words, but the vagueness meant I didn’t get the information. The middle word was ‘of’ and it was a completely blank book cover once more.

Frustrated I figured the title would likely be inside the book too so I should just open...

“Don’t open the book Tegan. The title must be read before this book is opened.”

“It’s annoying Grandma, I see bits of the three words when I glance at an odd angle. But I can’t see anything if I concentrate and look directly.”

“What have you seen, Tegan?”

“Three words in fancy black calligraphy swirling letters centered at the top of the front cover. Each word is on its own line. First word is long and starts with a capital ‘D’. Second word is all lower case and is ‘of’. The third word starts with an upper case ‘W’ and I thought it was ‘Word’ but then knew it wasn’t.”

“Tegan, give me the book and turn off the gas poker I think the fire is going well.” After I returned she handed me the book once more.

“Which is the front of the book?”

“This side is.” I pointed holding the book front side up. There were no words visible, but I knew this was the front.

“Tegan today is the first day you are aware of the book and you’ve almost got its title. The first letter of the first word, all of the second and almost all of the third, and I am pleased to talk with you about it.”

“I think I would remember if I’d seen this book before Grandma.”

“Tegan, can and will remember, but Thomas never could. Thomas was holding it just two days ago when you arrived from your Uncle’s Saturday evening. Since Thomas was four every new visit to my house the first thing we do is sit down here and I give him this book, and away in its trance it has put him in ‘till I take it back. Every single time since the first time I gave it to him on his fourth birthday, when I brought the book to where you were living in Carpenter’s Park.

“Thomas was the best candidate of all my grandchildren and both my children.” Grandma leaned over and placed a hand on mine.” You’re Mum had the worst reaction a girl has ever had with that book. It would burn her hand before she had the chance to drop it. I have only had her try to hold the book two more times. The third time was the only time she could hold it. The third time she was pregnant with you.”

I was rather concerned. I mean sure I loved reading fantasy and fiction books. Even dreamed of something fantastical happening in real life, but this oddness was a bit worrying. Had Grandma fallen into dementia, or gone mad and worse was it contagious because I seemed to be in one of my fantasy books and sure I wanted to just jump in with both feet...

I took a deep breath, I’d always ridiculed the characters that didn’t accept the wonder when something odd and unique happened. I would enjoy whatever this weirdness was unless I thought it was hurting me.Then I would do whatever was needed.

“Tegan, are you awake lass?”

“Grandma I was just thinking. I am still aware of the book. I haven’t drifted off into sleep as you said usually happens when I held it before. You have dropped a large amount of oddness on me. Is this book magic?”

“Look at the fire, Tegan.”

‘Why does she do that!’ However, even angry I looked at the fire and I knew my Grandma was doing something while sat next to me. I wanted to turn and see what she was doing but years of doing what my Grandma asked had me held to the task assigned. It was frustrating how she evaded and as usual provided no response to a direct question.Then again if ever she were to answer quickly, it would likely mean I wasn’t talking to my Grandma.

The flames looked odd. I’d turned off the gas poker why were they looking greeny-blue? They were shrinking. The fire was dying, it was nearly out. “I think it’s going out. I should turn the poker back on.”

Suddenly the flames flared momentarily into the chimney bright orange then from a normal fire slowly they cut back again their colour changing to greeny-blue and almost sputtering out. Two more times they almost spluttered out then to roar up the chimney to diminish once more. After the third time it went out. No it didn’t just go out. There were no glowing embers, no ash beneath the coal rack. The coal looked cold. I wasn’t going to touch it to verify though. Even if it looked like the fire hadn’t ever been lit.

“Tegan, what happened to the fire?”

“You saw it too. It dimmed and flared, dimmed and flared and went out.” I said getting annoyed.

“Is that what you saw; The fire dimming and flaring twice then going out?”

“No it flared three times…

“Tegan, while remembering the rules to contain I’ve always told you must occur when speaking or thinking of what I have always told you to use for something that occurs once more than twice, can you give me a constrained sentence of what you saw?”

I carefully thought before speaking. Years of having that word and the punishments I’d been given for idle use had reinforced in me care with that word. “Grandma the fire went through a cycle thrice of dimming to greeny-blue flames ‘till it almost died then it momentarily flared brightly up the chimney orange, then after those cycles ended, it dimmed, went out and looks like it never burned.”

“Tegan, was that magic, and if so, is the power of a thing happening once more than twice contained?”

As I could see that Grandma was just going to make me do all the threshing to decide magic was real or not I figured she deserved a googly for all the odd bowling she’d sent my way. “Grandma, remember the day I refused to prune your rose bushes and after finding myself having to do it anyway, I called you a witch.”

“I don’t have any problems with my memories, Tegan. Now my joints aching before its going to rain, and a host of other medical conditions old age gifts us with. Those I have, but my memory is as sharp as it ever was, my girl.”

“Grandma is the reason why you didn’t get angry or punish me for calling you a witch that day, because you are a witch?”

“The reason I didn’t get angry when you started throwing out labels might be a bit like you not getting angry or wanting to lash out at me for referring to you as a girl, or calling you by your name, Tegan. Do you recall how I answered that question?” Grandma turned round and asked me a question. It wouldn’t be Grandma if she answered, yes Tegan, I am a witch.

I had to think a moment to recall the exact words and ensure I had it correctly formed in my mind.The requested quote was another of those phrases my Grandma has used often. “You said, ‘A label is as true as the one using it believes and I won’t waste my time getting angry if another thinks differently of me than I do myself. I know exactly what I am and whatever others think has no power changing what I know.’ You’ve also often enforced that you shouldn’t lie. Just today you told me that omission is a lie too, and then surely evading the question is a form of omission. Thus I ask you twice, Grandma, are you a witch?”

“Tegan, stop! Don’t even think of trying to say that. I’ve punished you many times for idly using that next word. You would be best off not using that word again for as long as you can, considering what it has already done today.” Grandma looked older and world weary. I was worried, but she seemed to shrug off the years with her next calmer breath and my vibrant Grandma, was thankfully sitting down next to me once more.

“Look I know you’re getting frustrated. That’s why you’re randomly asking me questions instead of thinking of the answers to the questions I asked you. The key thing above you must think about is I said ‘Whatever others think has no power changing what I know’ and I also warned you how that which happens once more than twice must be contained.” She took a sip of her tea that I’d not noticed she had before. I was mesmerized by the steam swirling off the freshly poured cup.

“Thankfully, we can see from your description of what the fire did once more than twice, that it was contained. It had been constrained by the fact that afterward the fire looking like it was never lit. We can go to sleep safe tonight in the knowledge it won’t suddenly flare up and burn the house down. I believe you put it well when you said I had dumped a whole heap of oddness on you. I’m sure if you thought of all the oddness you experienced today you could come up with different questions you might want to ask me. So Tegan, what do you ask me?”

I gazed at the book still in my hands. Grandma told me to not open it until I had read the title and I almost had the third word. I started looking at it askance to see if I could get more of the title. I mean I wasn’t going to make the rookie mistake of trying to run before I could walk, and open the book before reading the title. There are rules of course I’m going to follow them. “I’d ask to learn magic of course.”

Grandma sighed then shifted to get my attention. “Tegan, if you knew there were prices to pay to being a witch, would you pay them?”

“What kind of prices? Are they a one-time cost or a constant requirement to pay?”

“Very good questions. Tegan the price is sort of both or one-time depending on how you view them. The one you might think the highest initially might be not valued as being that costly as another later. As you change through life so do the costs of witchcraft. Also, just like taking a loan from a bank depending on your growth as a witch you could either pay less early or more later depending on the paths you choose to walk. You don’t just become a witch, it is a way of living.”

Could she be more vague? So many words to say it is and isn’t. I thought back on my interactions with my Grandma and thought about what was her defining characteristic with how we interacted. “Does the cost have something to do with your constant berating of me to not lie?”

“That’s one of them. When I first entered the salon and worked out who you used to be, I nearly pulled the whole building of cards, you, and your two accomplices had made. I want to say right now that though I have benefited in you becoming Tegan, I didn’t do anything to manipulate you into how you got yourself where you were, and I wasn’t going to lie to help you get deeper into the mess you’d made, as I don’t lie. Then I realized how everything had fit together to not let you or the girls get found out. Magic had lent a hand in what had happened. Another that we will call a meddler got involved, but I had two choices to choose from that point forward that allowed me to not lie. Each had a debt due for the magic so far done.

I chose to make it harder for you to not be Tegan. Maybe you feel I gave you a higher cost to pay. I hope you’ll later decide it was far lower or no cost compared to the costs that the other path would have required us both to pay. I know in you being Tegan, the cost I must pay is far smaller than that if I chose the other path and it has yielded me a net boon. If you are Tegan, my granddaughter, then I haven’t lied. Now you must step up and pay the price owed.”

“Wait what happened to the magic. I have this book. You said all I need to do is read the title and then I can open the book. How does me paying with the loss of being your grandson Thomas, create magic? I can’t go to school like this with nails and…

“Why do the young always rush in after what they can get now, and not what they must put in first? Recall, I said it is like a bank loan. Demand the magic first and you must pay more for it later. Put the time and effort in to grow. Paying first to learn and gaining the magic years later. When you get it, you will have paid far less, or depending on how you think, and the paths trod, you could end up thinking what was paid was a boon to pay.”

“I will never think that you causing me to be humiliated. Making me look like a girl…

“Tegan, I had nothing to do with you looking like a girl.”

“You could have allowed my lie of the school rules on nails…

“I told you Tegan, I don’t lie. Tegan can go to your school with those nails. There are reasons stopping Thomas from doing so, but not Tegan.” My Grandma cut me off.

“I am Thomas!” I yelled, and my Grandma just calmly straightened the skirt I was wearing.

“Tegan, I don’t lie. You unfortunately still have to learn the cost of lying.”

“You really are a witch! If I go to school like this I will be at best teased and humiliated. I could be beaten, possibly even to death.”

Previously
“I told you Tegan, I don’t lie. Tegan can go to your school with those nails. There are reasons stopping Thomas from doing so, but not Tegan.” My Grandma cut me off.

“I am Thomas!” I yelled, and my Grandma just calmly straightened the skirt I was wearing.

“Tegan, I don’t lie. You unfortunately still have to learn the cost of lying.”

“You really are a witch! If I go to school like this I will be at best teased and humiliated. I could be beaten, possibly even to death.”

Grandma just gave me a look, you know the one adult’s give to an overly petulant child, while they marshal their thoughts to rip into the child’s outburst and make them feel a few inches tall and at least five years younger than they really are. I guess it is not really mature to yell insults, especially when the person you are calling a witch actually is one, but she really got me ticked. Did she not care that I could be killed?

Grandma calmly got my attention then let me know. “Thomas likely could, but Tegan wouldn’t have those worries. Now calm down, we have much to discuss and I don’t want to send you to bed without supper, as if you were a naughty little girl. However, if you behave so then young lady, I will treat you as you behave.”

All my bluster and rage were extinguished like a flame snuffed. I sagged back into the sofa and sighed. “Why do you want me to be Tegan?”

“I told you I don’t lie…

“No, you said you had two choices. You could call me on all the lies letting them all know I was your grandson, Thomas, or make me Tegan.” I interrupted my Grandma.

“Bravo!” My Grandma started clapping. “Finally, you see to the meat of the matter.” Personally, I could have done without the celebration, but she was bubbling with excitement.

“I want a witch to teach, Tegan. Your Mum didn’t even have a flicker of the gift. Your sister Helen was barely any better, but Thomas, a boy, when witches are always female, he had potential.” My Grandma got increasingly excited as she continued. “The book accepted his imagination, but you shouldn’t dream your life away. I can’t teach Thomas much.”

Grandma sighed, and then as if sharing a secret leaned in a placed her hand over mine that was holding the book.“Why Tegan, I often felt that I couldn’t even teach him the absolute basics to not get himself in debt to magic.”

Well I never! She patted my hand as I stared at her gob-smacked at her brazenly insulting me as if I wasn’t the one, she was insulting. “His gift could pass to his daughter if he was lucky to have one, but even if I see my great-granddaughter born how much time would I get to share witchcraft with her.” While I still tried to work out how to interrupt and deny that I had been un-teachable my Grandma looked deeply into my eyes as if daring me to challenge those insults.

“I told you taking short-cuts is costly in life. More so in trying to grow in magic. If I want to share in the treading of a life in witchcraft, I will get less time to share with your daughter, if you even have one, than I will with you. Further, if you Tegan get pregnant and have a daughter with the gift then I share in the teaching of two witches.”

“That’s selfish…

“I’ve never said I was selfless, and I’ve disliked every person I’ve met, that has ever said that they were so.”

“Well if you can turn me into a girl. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you change your son and his sons?”

“Let me start with your later questions first, as they are easiest. My son and the two grandsons he gave me, are for the most part between your Mum and your sister in magical talent. They are between virtually none and the barest flicker, so changing them would be close to pointless. You, Tegan though, you, won the lottery on getting the gift. You could be far more powerful than me. You also aren’t lacking in the intelligence department. When it comes to wisdom; well… Hopefully Tegan is a better student.” My grandmother told me how unwise she thought I was.

I was still trying to wrap my hands around it while she continued. “There are now with you, three of us. You recall my Aunt, your Great-Aunt Margaret?” I nodded. “Well she wanted to dress you up in girls’ clothes as soon as we saw your potential at four. Of course, she is more desperate than me. All four of her sons are childless.”

“Couldn’t magic fix that?” I asked.

“Magic isn’t the be all and end all. Everything has a price and two world wars are the main reason our coven is three. I used your Grandfather’s intelligence to get him chosen as an engineer that studied the downed airplanes during world war II. It was critical to the war effort, but safer to keep him alive and uninjured than the poor boys sent to the front lines. Selfish of me and done without my husband’s complete knowledge. I still have costs owed for what I did. Part of the cost Aunt Margaret and her sons paid for the spells to keep them alive during the war was found out later to impact their ability to have children. They’re not all the same costs and it’s not my story to share.

“Grandma, World War II, ended in 1945.”

“I thought I already told you that there was nothing wrong with my memory, Tegan.”

“But, Grandpa was born during the war and you were born after…

“Tegan, your above statement would be correct if you were referring to World War I. We might have encouraged others to think differently.”

“Grandma, Mum was born in the late seventies, Uncle Malcolm in the eighties…

“I’m a witch Tegan, we tend to age well.”

“What ever happened to not lying?” I asked incredulously.

“Remember, I told you a lie that survives, becomes truth’s dagger.” I nodded slowly, I was still trying to wrap my head around what truth’s dagger was. “Well if you want fact to be cut to a different cloth of truth, like, say showing up at a hospital in your twenties pregnant verses in your fifties or sixties, then Tegan, you make sure your lie survives.”

I think my Grandma couldn’t have ever said something that would shock me as much as what she just had. “You, you… you lied, Grandma.”

“Tegan, I am extremely sure I’ve told you that I do not lie. I am very careful in ensuring the truth is what I can live with it being.

“So you could live with Grandpa dying?” I lashed out. I don’t know why, but I was angry with the flippant way she regarded lying when she was in charge of the lie, verses how she would figuratively flay me for lying.

Grandma suddenly looked out the window into our rear garden and I think she was seeing something different than the evening shadows I saw. After sighing she continued. “Your Grandpa lived to ninety-seven. I didn’t shorten his life.I primarily offered initial sacrifices along with my husband’s initial sacrifice only when desiring to keep him safe. An initial sacrifice is paid then, not even a day later, so definitely not payable at the end of one’s life. I’m not sure, but are you accusing me of stealing my own husband’s life like a hag? That is a path I’ve never considered worth the cost to follow.” She starred at me, her eyes holding back tears that I’d caused.

“I didn’t mean that I thought you shortened it. I’m not sure, I guess I just missed him and thought if you could make changes…

“Within mere moments of extra time passing, it wouldn’t be you Grandpa that was alive. There are huge costs that are completely not worth paying for any of the methods I have seen to even parody prolonging life. Tegan, I miss Lesley every day, but I remember the near century we got to share which is more than many others get. Is it enough? No, it never can be. If you have something good you’ll want more of it no matter how much you’ve got, or had.”

I wanted to change the subject. I could apologize and say I didn’t mean it but we would still like now be stuck on it. We were just hurting each other. Instead I barreled into another question. “So, Great-Aunt Margaret who didn’t have that option apparently for her sons, like you’d had for Grandpa to pay upfront. Why did she risk the later cost if she knew paying later it might be too high to pay?”

“We were in a catch twenty-two. Those without a choice to pay initially like your Great-Aunt with four sons had to choose. She could use magic to protect and find the later cost, like she did. The cost caused sterility, impedance, or no apparent cost on the sons that had a lack of interest in girls, to be more specific, a desire as they say to bat for the other team, which meant no grand-children. You Great-Aunt's only other choice would be to not use magic to protect them during the war, and risk having them die and still end up without grand-children, but also loose time with her sons too.”

“One of her sons is gay?”

“Two of them are.”

“Well problem solved turn those two into girls and they can have children.” I said thinking I would be congratulated.

“Tegan, they want to stay boys. Thus, it isn’t problem solved, and both are now in their eighties. Anyway to bring this back to you, it was likely the driving force why a damaged Aunt Margaret said we should dress you up in girls’ clothes at four. ”

I looked at my Grandma glad my Great-Aunt hadn’t gotten her way with me even while feeling sorry for her. “If my Great-Aunt Margaret was willing to change me into a girl why not do so with her four sons?”

“It was likely due to what happened to her sons that influenced her to consider taking away your free will. There is a huge cost to pay for denying a person free will.” My Grandma informed me. “How’s the book's title coming?”

Well I wasn’t going to let my Grandma distract me away from what I planned to tell her. “You took away my free will. You are forcing me to stay as Tegan.”

“No, I didn’t nor haven’t. You have numerous choices that can be boiled down into four groups. Go to school in boys’ clothes with girls’ nails, earrings, navel ring and girls’ haircut, and pretend to be a boy. Refuse to go to school and get expelled and stay with me ‘till your parents can get you home where Anne Marie’s family will still try to meet Tegan. Run away, which I strongly advise is the group of choices you shouldn’t take, as they will likely lead to death or a bad life. Or lastly the one that I strong advise you to take, become Tegan.”

“So I have no choice!”

“I haven’t taken any of the choices away from you. I didn’t cause you to be in a situation where you were left with only one smart choice. I can only be accused in after the fact stacking the deck for the choice I think is best for you to choose. It is still your choice.”

“You have a spell to turn me into a girl?”

“The end result is a few months or years down the road, the group of spells will finally give you that, but initially well it is up to you to drive it forward. It is your own magic that needs to power the change. The catch twenty-two is only girls are witches and able to learn. You need to be a girl to have the magic to turn yourself into a girl.”

“There’s no hope then!”

“Tegan, you nearly have the title of the book. Thomas went to sleep as soon as he was given the book and forgot about it. The more you are Tegan, the more I can teach you. The good news is aside a ritual created by Thomas with no formal training that always delivers and surprisingly only has a debt owed magic of about one pound twenty six pence, Thomas has already cast a high order spell. So, twenty more minutes while I make some calls, then I need to lock the book away, and you need to make our evening tea.”

-~ooOoo~-

After taking the two plates to the kitchen table. I hung the apron up in the pantry and brought the butter dish back. I then offered the butter to my Grandma and sat in my place. The chicken breast had come out quite well, if I do say so myself, I self-congratulated. I’d grilled it without drying it out with some butter and thinly sliced aubergine and tomato. The other side of the plate had a summer blend of mixed lettuce with olives, snow peas and a julienne of bell peppers. I’d sliced the left-over third of a baguette earlier and had that on the bread board between the two of us.

“This is nice, Tegan. We need an early night as we need to go into Hull early in the morning to purchase five sets of school uniform. Thankfully now, the uniform store will be opening at seven for us.” Did my Grandma just imply she’d caused the store to open earlier? “You will also need some women’s supplies including casual and dressy clothes for evenings and the weekends. I will be traveling to school with you to smooth out your transfer into Tegan.”

“I was hoping to look at the book some more, I mean I’ve got three letters of the first word and all of the second and third words…

“Tegan, you’ve exceeded what’s safe and need a break. When you told me the third word seemed to be ‘word’, but you knew that was wrong I knew it was safe to let you keep looking…

“It is definitely ‘wood’. So, capital ‘D’ then little ‘o’ several letters ending with an ‘s’, followed by the two words ‘of wood’…

“It is that you aren’t questioning your mistake that lets me know it is dangerous for you to keep forcing it. Remember trying to grab power first has a large often unknown price to be found out later. Tegan tidy up the kitchen and I will see if your sister or Mum left any night clothes for you to use tonight.” Grandma said, and left the kitchen before I could tell her I was planning on sleeping in my pj’s.

“…And protect Melisa’s clothes with an apron.” Were the words drifting down to me as I took the plates to the sink to wash them up. I grumbled but went to the pantry to put the apron on again and proceeded to tidy-up the kitchen. She’d forced me to protect Melisa’s clothes with it when she had made me make our evening tea. It was as if she was finding ways to make me be a girl.

It was after I’d finished and hung up the apron that I worked out what the book’s three words said. Beside the Pantry are some shelves that Grandma has a few fancy ornaments and photos on. There’s a black and white photo of Grandma and Grandpa when they were in their twenties in pride of place. To each side of that are colour photos. One of her son’s family and the second of her daughter’s or our family. But, on the higher shelve there’s another black and white photo with six women in it. The four older I don’t know, and they likely have died, but the youngest two sitting on a wooden garden bench in front of the four standing unknowns are my Grandma and my Great-Aunt Margaret when they were teenagers.

The two family photos have been changed multiple times but the others were the same as when I, a nosey seven year old kid, was pestering my Grandfather on telling me about the top picture. I can clearly hear now my Grandpa saying to me, what he said when I was seven and bothering him to discuss the photos here. “Nay lad, that’s the ‘Daughter’s of Wood’ and ya’ d’na want ‘owt to do with ‘em when they got together like that.” He’d then gone on to distract me with the names of my cousins in the photo of my Uncle’s family.

“Grandma!” I yelled as I charged to the stairs and started to run up them, and wasn’t that a pickle I got myself in. I’d forgotten the tight skirt I was wearing. Yes, I’m still trying to work out how I forgot that. Let’s just say running up the stairs with a skirt down to your knees that clamps both thighs together is not one of my better things to try to do. I think the only way to top it would have been if I'd attempted to run down a flight of stairs. My Grandma was so happy to see I hadn’t torn Melissa skirt. Thanks Grandma.

“What’s the problem, Tegan.”

“Problem?”

“Why did you scream my name, and try to run up the stairs?”

“Oh yes, I know the three word’s of the book…

“Tegan, I said don’t try to read the book…

“I didn’t it’s the picture in the kitchen. I remember Grandpa calling them the ‘Daughter’s of Wood’. I didn’t look at the book, but obviously my mistake was the ‘o’ that’s an ‘a’. But I didn’t look at the book.” As Grandma was just staring at me I couldn’t help but squirm. Was I in trouble, had I incurred debt because I’d exhausted my manna? Hey until she says otherwise I have to come up with words for this stuff and why invent if you already know a pre-built system.

“Tegan, what’s done is done, but let’s leave anything to do with the book ‘till after a good night’s rest. I’ve found a nighty of Helen’s. Carefully go upstairs and take care with removing Melisa’s clothes and hang them in your wardrobe. I’ll show you how to take your make-up off so come to bathroom in your nighty. Oh, and keep your knickers on but take the bra off.”

Well I started to follow all of Grandma’s requests, but I was seriously ticked and would really give her what for. It wasn’t just the acrylics, she was stacking the pile in the ‘choose Tegan’ column, and that was not right. I had my nighty in one hand as I barged into the bathroom in just my knickers.

“Tegan why aren’t you wearing your nighty?”

“Grandma you gave me tits!” I yelled.

Previously

Well I started to follow all of Grandma’s requests, but I was seriously ticked and would really give her what for. It wasn’t just the acrylics, she was stacking the pile in the ‘choose Tegan’ column, and that was not right. I had my nighty in one hand as I barged into the bathroom in just my knickers.

“Tegan why aren’t you wearing your nighty?”

“Grandma you gave me tits!” I yelled.

“Tegan, don’t be vulgar, and I assure you that when I first met you in the salon you already were as you stand before me now. In addition to not being responsible for your womanly upper curves, I also didn’t give you hips, shrink your waist and height, nor give you long hair that is nearly a foot down your back. I’ll explain as we remove your make-up.” I placed my nighty on the side of the tub then sat down beside it as Grandma used some cream and a cotton ball and proceeded to gently rub my face.

“Did you really think if you were just Thomas in a skirt and blouse with make-up and a hair cut that I would have been as startled as I was when I first saw you? I can assure you that aside containing the once more than twice you had left gaping wide open, the only other magic I cast was to shrink Melisa’s skirt to fit you because even if I’d tightened the belt it would have bunched up badly, and if I did nothing then the skirt might have fallen down to your ankles.” Grandma took a moment to sigh and looked sadly at her new granddaughter.

“Tegan, when I entered the salon I saw a set of identical twins stood either side of their Mum. I knew you weren’t Helen or Thomas, its why I looked to the rest of the salon even when Doris said that it wasn’t Helen but my other Granddaughter Tegan, and I wondered if Thomas might be pulling a prank. Until you called me Grandma, and the whole ‘I used to be a Tom, boy’ I had dismissed you as not Thomas.”

“Why would I end up looking like Anne Marie?”

“Well that’s due to three, let’s call them, individuals. Tegan, on the Saturday evening you arrived from your Uncle's in November last year I said I knew you were tricking bartenders into serving you beers, and though I disapproved, I asked for three things. What were those three things?”

“Don’t hurt or damage anyone or anything, don’t encourage others to drink, and don’t drink at the Red Lion Pub.” I said with my head hung in guilt. In my haste to try to chat the girls into drinking at a pub I’d offered the first pub I saw and forgot that I wasn’t supposed to drink at that one. Grandma never gave me a reason and it’s not like I didn’t have plenty of other pubs to use, so I’d pretty much forgotten about it.

“Did you break any of those rules I gave you?”

“The last two.”

“I can make an argument for the first one too, Tegan. As not damaging anyone, includes not hurting yourself. Whether, you or the Peddler are most to blame in causing you to be standing before me as you do, is something that could be debated, but Anne Marie was the least at fault of the three of you. She merely provided the seed of an idea and an opening that the Peddler could use to change you.”

Grandma sighed, threw away the current dirty cotton ball and looked into my eyes with pain and pity. “My grandson, Thomas, whom I’ve constantly berated about the dangers of lies. Whom I tried teaching of paying attention when certain words are spoken or thought for they are a warning that something is open and must be contained. If Thomas listened to me on at least one of my warnings, then the Peddler wouldn’t have been able to do what’s been done.”

“Who’s the Peddler?” I frantically tried to think if I’d seen some shifty character trying to sell stuff that had fallen off the back of a lorry. My next thought was for a shady cloaked character on a bike with a basket for his wares to peddle.

“Tegan, you laughed as if it was a joke when Anne Marie pointed out the sign of the Red Lion Pub, that due to missing and partial letters. It reads as ‘The Ped l or’, she even said the pub’s true name.”

“The land lord of the Red Lion Pub is a peddler?”

“The Peddler is more a force than a person and the Land Lord has agreements with the Peddler. One is to not fix the sign. So all can be aware they are operating within the Peddler’s bailiwick. If I had chosen the other path in the salon to change you back into Thomas, one of the costs to pay is that both you and I would each owe the Peddler favors it would count as once more than twice. Which of course is a trap to the unwary to owe favors for the rest of eternity, and you can be sure that a force of chaos will be stacking the deck against containment.”

“Witchraft is a force of order?”

“Balance Tegan, but we are getting way off base and have more important things to discuss. Firstly, as I’ve removed your make-up look in the mirror and accept that you are Tegan, not Thomas. It is vital you accept who you are, but more of whom you are descended. Remember my husband, your Grandfather, Leslie, his Mother, Tegan and your Dad, Allan. All of whom, you, Tegan Allana Lesley Wehl, are named after.” Grandma then left me in the bathroom.

I stared, and I’ll blame this body for the leaking waterworks because aside the hair colour, my male bits and a cup smaller pair of boobs, I was looking at the Anne Marie I’d met before the fateful beers, even without a bit of clothing aside my knickers or any make-up on. I now understood what Grandma was meaning when she had said Thomas was gone. I may have male genitals but this body was, aside that, female. Further, unlike my sister, I didn’t see my parents or grandparents in my face. I didn’t see a female version of myself.

Washing and drying my face I slipped the nighty on and headed for the bedroom. I found my Grandma waiting for me. “Pop into bed, Tegan, I’ll fix your hair for the night. Now, Tegan Allana Lesley Wehl, can you tell me your full name?”

“Tegan Allana Lesley Wehl?” What was my Grandma asking?

“Be surer of your name, Tegan. It is yours, own it. Now write it again and again on this. Think of each of the people you are named after and how you are related to them.” She handed me an ordinary note book and pen. It had my full name written once at the top of the first page. Then nothing but blank lines.

“What am I doing?”

“Becoming familiar with your name, enforcing it as yours. Solidifying and stabilizing who you are so it can’t be ripped from you. Now keep writing while I talk. I’ve set your alarm for four thirty…

“Four thirty, why so early you said the shop opens at seven?”

“You’ve got more to do in the morning now, before we can leave.”

“Grandma if the Peddler was causing me to turn into Anne Marie why do I have…

I blushed, as I realized that I didn’t want to call out my male stuff.

“You also still have your strong slate blue eyes not the bright light blue ones that Anne Marie has. Your changes are skin deep only, and your hair will grow the same colour it’s always been. Remember I told you the price for getting now is always a greater cost. When I was telling you off for not honoring your name and relatives. I wasn’t doing it to humiliate you in front of your friends. I was containing the spell before you, were no longer you.”

I now felt disappointed with myself. There I was blaming my Grandma. Getting angry with her and she was stopping me from being more changed than I already was.

“I was adamant I would pay for your hair as you are not Melyonen’s daughter. I reminded you who your Dad was to stop either you losing your Dad or your Dad being changed by the free wild magic you had released. Anne Marie does not have magic, and the Peddler would have got yours when it completed changing you into her twin. Her personality and experiences would have overwritten yours. To all intents you would be dead, and Melyonen would have twins that had the same first fourteen years of life. ”

“If the Peddler gets more from me the more I am changed why would it get me to bleach parts of my hair to get blonde high-lights and Anne Marie to dye parts of hers while we are at it. If it was going to use the salon, why not cause me to bleach all my hair?”

“Does a river run in a straight line to the sea? The Peddler used Anne Marie’s hair appointment to establish a debt from you to Melyonen, to prepare to have you at the genetic level be overwritten to pay for that loan. Why use its magic when treatments at a salon achieve temporarily the same result? Melyonen is not going to pay for her daughter to only get her hair cut and pay for her daughter’s friend to get both a haircut and bleaching.”

“Then why force me to accept acrylic nails from Melyonen?” I asked worried I owed a debt now.

“Because I negotiated the terms and the Peddler was not involved in the transaction. It actually enabled me to completely stop the Peddler’s deal from going forward anymore, containing the wild magic you had let loose. I included it being listed as offered as a gift. Which instantly decreased what could be owed. She gave the gift to celebrate your first step from girl into womanhood and to be Anne Marie’s friend. To be a word of caution to tame her rather wild child to tread on less dangerous paths. Remember, how she said a true friend would also do what she enabled her friend to do? Melyonen, would not have been upset if you said no to the acrylics, she was willing to use you to deny her daughter. For her, whether you said yes or no, she won.” Before I got bent out of shape of being used I recalled Grandma’s words on selfless people. My Grandmother would count Melyonen’s willingness to use me, as a positive character attribute.

“You will have to use Melisa’s clothes tomorrow when we buy you your own. I will also buy new packs of underwear for both girls, and a silk blouse for Melisa so that we give them back more than the clothes you borrowed. Why do you think it is a good idea to give them back extra clothes, Tegan?”

“Is it to ensure I don’t have a debt to both girls for wearing their clothes and using their make-up?”

Grandma nodded smiled and got up from my bed picking up the notebook and taking the pen from my hand. “Have a good night’s sleep, Tegan. She flicked the light switch as she left the room and closed the door to.

After the day I’d had, sleep was determined to elude me. I analyzed everything my Grandma said looking for any fault or discrepancy against what I recall happening. Trying to see if I could find anything that could solve or prove that it wasn’t my own fault as Grandma heavily implied. I mean even if she managed to smooth things out with the school there would still be issues like would anyone twig that the day Thomas leaves school a relative that’s female just happens to show up and start. Also, rarely does one change school for the second half of summer term. In a bit over four weeks its final exams for the year’s course work.

Then there was tennis, gymnastics or athletics that girls had to choose two of. How could I shower and get changed in the girls’ locker rooms? At night I would be expected to sleep in the girls’ dorms which would raise the same issues. It’s all well and good Grandma saying that though Thomas would get teased or beaten while Tegan would not, but he still had enough to be found out as a boy and couldn’t stop worrying. Then there was the typical boy attitude toward pretty girls. Some of the boys in our school were too aggressive in their pursuit of girls. I feared their interest in me could also cause me to be discovered, if I ever slipped up and relaxed just because I wasn’t in a changing room or the girls dorm at the time. No I couldn’t relax anywhere, anytime.

I finally got myself to sleep and wished I hadn’t succeeded. I found myself a prisoner within my own body. I could see and feel what Tegan did, but I wasn’t in control. The dream took off from Doris returning after the phone call to announce Tegan didn’t have to be squeezed in as her customer had rescheduled and Anne Marie and Tegan were now her last customers for the day. ‘Wait that meant Grandma wouldn’t be there to stop the wild magic!’

I wanted to get my wallet out of the Debenhams bag to pay the bill, but I had no control of myself. Tegan was increasingly behaving like a girl, and her thoughts of what she wanted to do, and wear made be uncomfortable and queasy. My mouth opened but I could form no words to interrupt Melyonen and Doris’s imminent transaction of paying for the hair do. That would seal the loan; cause my debt to magic to be due…

Thankfully the alarm seeded control of my body back to me. I refused to not be in control of my life. The few hours while asleep were bad enough, and at least I know the things I dreamt did not happen. Grandma was knocking on the door and bringing a cup of tea as I was stretching and sitting up having turned off my alarm.

“Quickly drink your tea and then use the bathroom. Try not to get your hair wet. Your skirt and blouse are hung up in the wardrobe, you’ll have to use the same bra, but I’ve got you a clean pair of panties here.” Grandma placed the bra I wore yesterday with a matching pair of pink panties on the other side of the queen bed. I was a bit concerned as they were not only skimpier than the pair I wore, but also briefer than the pair Melisa wore yesterday. That little bit of material would be all I had under my skirt protecting me from being seen.

Adroitly cleaning teeth after breakfast, I was looking forward to the next task. As it wasn’t yet five thirty, I had ninety minutes to study the book. Grandma had planned to spend up to an hour teaching me how to apply my own make-up, and the balance on the book, but agreed that I had the choice to not wear make-up and spend the whole time on the book. After my horrible nightmares last night having that one victory was huge.

“What do you see, Tegan?”

I’d been all psyched up. I was expecting as I now knew the title to read it aloud and get started opening the book and learning magic for ninety odd minutes. Well I was positive I knew the title but I still saw the second letter as an ‘o’. Except knowing that seeing it as an ‘o’ being wrong and positive that I knew the title I was at the exact same point I left off yesterday evening.

“You still se the ‘o’?” Grandma calmly asked.

“I know it’s wrong though but can’t force it to be an ‘a’ I let her know my frustration.”

“Don’t try to force it, and at least you know more than yesterday. You have improved. Progress is still occurring. I am glad you don’t have all three words. I prefer you to steadily learn, and though you think this is slow you are doing so much faster than I did.

Even knowing what the title was it wasted thirty five of my ninety minutes to get the three words to show up. My other problem, aside the lost time was though the three words were there finally visible I knew something was wrong with the title. I threw the book down in frustration.

“Tegan, what’s wrong now? I thought you understood it would take time even to see what you expect to be there.”

“I can see all three words, but they’re wrong. I was so sure it was right. That I’d found the title. I wasted all my time trying to see what I thought the title should be and likely forced it to display what I wanted rather than what it is.”

“Tegan if I said, ‘You are wearing a black belt,’ would that statement be the truth?”

I looked at my belt and back to Grandma. “Yes.”

“But, Tegan it isn’t the truth. A statement that is closer to the truth but still is not the truth would be to say ‘You are wearing a thin plastic black belt with black cotton stitching, punched holes and a buckle made from a mixed alloy of metals,’ it still would not be the truth but it is truer than the first.”

“What’s that got to do… There’s more than three words to the title of the book.”

“Bravo, Tegan, bravo.”

I swear this magic stuff is beginning to be a good news, bad news deal. Tegan you’re a witch, but you can’t stay a boy to learn about magic. Well back to trying to read the book title. “I assume I am looking for something like ‘Grimoire’, ‘Spell Book’, ‘Book of Magic’, or ’Repository of all Magical Knowledge’ for the rest of the title.”

“Something like that.” My Grandma smiled at me and made a ‘go on’ motion with her hands to get me back to looking.

With less than five minutes left ‘till we needed to leave I’d got pieces of the fourth word that was either eight or ten letters long depending on how you count the two double letters. “Grandma is the next word in English?”

“Tegan, you do know how to amaze me. It took me over four hours after knowing there were more than three words to work out said more wasn’t written in English. What have you got?”

“Just that two of the letters are like the double letter a and e squashed together. They are not that though, nor are they the same and one is found near the beginning of the word and the other is the last letter and it is superscript to the rest of the word. If the word was a maths expression it would look like the initial part is risen to the power of the last double letter.”

“Well you can possibly look at this again if we have time when we get back. However, now we need to get to the station.” Grandma took the book and locked it up. I wanted to complain and keep looking, but knew we had to get into Hull.

Locking the garage door after Grandma reversed the car from the garage, I quickly got into the car to drive to the railway station. We found a spot on the street near the station and with a minor wait as the train was running a few minutes late, we were getting off the platform and onto the six-twenty-eight Hull train.

The train trip from Hessle to Hull is in that range of time that you wonder why you bothered sitting down. Dependent on if the train is trying to catch back lost time or not the trip is between eight and twelve minutes. If the train is busy and slightly behind, like it was this morning, it can and did take us nearly five minutes to find a seat. If we had not bothered, we would have wished we’d looked but having bothered one wonders if it was a wasted effort when just slightly over three minutes later we were pulling in to the terminus and bailing from the seat into Hull with a little less than twenty minutes to make the short walk to the School Uniform Store.

“We’ve time for a cup of tea.” Grandma remarked, to let me know we would be stopping for one. I think she runs on the stuff. “Come on ‘Two Gingers’ is there.”

We were still in Hull Paragon Terminus and I knew the ‘Two Gingers Coffee House’ was in the Paragon Arcade on the other side of the Ferensway* but there was a door clearly labeled with their business and hours of operation from '8:00 AM to 6:00 PM'. “I don’t think they’re open yet…

“Sure, they are. Come on Tegan, put a bit more welly in.” Grandma opened the door and chivied me to catch up.

She’d already got sat at one of the long tables and I hear her order two loose leaf teas and we’re apparently sharing a slice of cake, as I’m looking for the door I just entered through, but only finding a blank wall.

Well one of the ginger haired owners is here but I don’t know if the place was open or if he was here to get the place ready to open. With my eyes opened to how Grandma allowed the lie of her husband and her own birth to give them a younger age I am now wondering if the whole, ‘I don’t lie’ is part of the spell to mind bend reality. Now when Grandma claims to never lie, I’m looking at it as she means once more to bend the world to her truth.

The cake was nice moist and buttery without being too heavy and went well with the dragon pearl white tea that was on offer today. The tea was definitely well wet, though with the delicate flavor it probably could have done with us letting it mash a bit longer than the time we had to spare. I obviously wasn’t completely awake as it wasn’t till I left the rear seating area for one of the two doors that I noticed the lights around the two sides of the store front and doors weren’t on.

“We need to use this door Tegan.” Grandma said, indicating the space between the two long pale wooden tables which I swear was a plain white wall before, and wasn’t there a potted tree?

We exited the door and we’re stood between two shop fronts. One was labeled ‘Kingston Jeanery’ and the other ‘rawcliffes’ spelt with a lower case ‘r’ I noted the oddity. I was a bit turned around, I mean I knew Paragon Arcade had entrances onto Paragon Street, but it was closer to the station. I just wondered why we took the train to Hull if Grandma could open doors to where she wanted to be. Before I could ask though she was opening the door at a couple of minutes before seven. A door that stated it opened at nine not seven in the morning. The store front was as lit as the coffee shop’s front had been, in other words all the lights were off save background lighting focused on the display cases, shelves and mannequins.

I was pondering if I was supposed to lock the front door when a yell of “Tegan!” convinced me it was likely already in hand, and so I darted after Grandma as she was exiting the empty shop floor for the warehouse area behind. I had to run a bit as she was turning into a side aisle ahead of me. Several twists later and through a curtained off partition, and they designed the room to make you think you had come through the bay window of someone’s formal sitting room. A cuckoo clock was chirping the hour.

The second thing, in this front living room I noticed though, which made sense as of course they wouldn’t need a fireplace, was instead of the fireplace, there was a short step-up fitting platform. It was a clever idea, and likely calmed a kid about to be shipped off to boarding school, to be measured in a living room instead of a shop. The curtains swayed back closed and I even momentarily thought I’d seen the wall and bay window sill, which was silly as this was a prop in the store’s warehouse, not someone’s actual formal living room.

“Perfect Misses Goss, right on time. This is your granddaughter? Come on girl, stand up here, let’s get you measured.” The old skinny tall lady was the third thing I noticed. “Belmare Moor, yes? Oh, you’ll have your third year trials later this month. Am I ever glad I passed those murderous tests. Tegan, what’s Belmare Moor’s current mortality rate, for third year trials?”

“What!”

“Tegan she’s joking with you. Alice really that was completely inappropriate.”

“I have to get up early, then I deserve to get entertained. Tegan, thank you, I will treasure your horrified expression all week. Now take your blouse and bra off.”

The distraction of having my new assets measured allowed me to calm down from the last scare. With Grandma’s blatant use of magic I’d forgotten that ‘Rawcliffes’ was a normal store for supplying school uniforms. Actually, I was lucky Alice didn’t think my overreaction to her joke was suspicious. Probably Grandma, soothed more than me, when she intervened. It was odd talking about my finals this month, they were next month. Further, calling them trials was unusual. She obviously used the word to unsettle me and thus wind me up. I finally regained my composure due to working out why the odd word was used. Also, for someone as old as she was, she couldn’t be expected to recall which month finals were offered.

I guess one good thing about being measured for the girl’s uniform was I didn’t have to get an inside leg measurement. That could have caused problems for me, being a boy. Nope the skirt required waist, hips, and the front of the body length from waist to knee. There was an allowed range of one and a half inches below to two and a half above the knee to determine which one to get, and thanks to the peddler I now had hips.

Unfortunately my small waist and hips were not enough to get the longer skirt though. True the skirt that fit me was only three inches shorter, but as I didn’t want to wear a skirt in the first place, my problem was, that it was those three inches shorter. “When I grow this skirt will quickly fall out of regulation length, it’s only half an inch in currently.”

“Tegan, with your waist and hips this is the standard length skirt and the range is really only enforced when first bought and has growth factored in. If you grow an exceptional amount there is three-eighths hem I can let out.” Alice informed.

“Could you let the hem out now?” I asked hopefully.

“Young lady, you’re travelling to school today, so there is no time for alterations, and it fits you right now perfectly. Soon enough and you’ll be arguing to sneak one through that’s too short for sure.”

“Alice, please pack a small travel trunk with four sets of uniforms, and two ribbons after we leave. I’ll pay now for that plus a fifth uniform including ribbon, beret and blazer that she will wear out today. I will be back after shopping for Tegan’s other supplies.”

After getting me kitted in the girl's school uniform, Alice led us to the false bay-window floor length curtains, into and through the warehouse, then back into the shop front. I waited patiently not paying attention to the conversation between the two ladies, while everything got rung up and my Grandma paid at the register .

“Come on Tegan we have other things to shop for.” Grandma told me heading for the exit back onto Paragon Street. I expected us to go to the door we’d come out of when arriving, but to prove it wasn’t a real door, there was now an old stone wall column between the two businesses. “I guess you’ll want jeans amongst your casual wear?”

I nodded and saw a sale’s associate open Kingston Jeanery, the store next door, forty odd minutes prior to its nine-a.m. opening time.

Though I did manage to talk the sales associate out of the skin-tight design and got three pairs of regular jeans, they did trick me into two pairs of jeggings, and I discovered in the changing room that the girls’ regular fit was a whole lot tighter than the boys. I also found out when I tried them on that the jeggings were so tight they might as well be painted on, which meant I wouldn’t be able to wear them. I couldn’t use that excuse because I didn’t want to bring attention to the fact I was a boy, and Grandma failed to notice my hints and bought them despite my attempts to not get them.

We left the store and the extra door between the two businesses was ready for us this time. Walking through we were beside Cooplands bakery which is up Paragon Street closer to the Ferensway. The bakery was open, as it opens at eight, so of course we didn’t enter it, but re-entered the door we had just left and came out at the top of Baker Street, across the road was Debenhams.

“Grandma, why did we catch the train this morning, if you can just make doorways?”

“Doorways are limited in distance and must have a common name. The first three used that each was named ‘Paragon’, this last one was a little harder, but the business of bakeries are usually located on Baker Street. Any way, we just have a few more selections to get from Debenhams, and you’ll be kitted out young lady. Being just gone nine Debenhams is now open. Let’s finish shopping so we can get back home.”

After nearly two hours spent in Debenhams and loaded under far too many bags we returned to Cooplands, and got a cup of coffee and buttered scone. It was just what the doctor ordered as with the poor sleep last night and early start I was flagging. Thankfully the next door hop to Rawcliffes allowed most of the items bought to be loaded into the trunk.

The thanks was short lived as next Grandma and I, with a side of the trunk each, left the store and used the door to get in the PLA** office of Paragon terminus railway station. “Grandma, PLA takes about two weeks to get the passengers luggage to the destination.” I hissed to her quietly before the worker got too close to the counter. When he got closer I also pulled at the hem of my new school skirt hopping to draw it further down as the lecherous man behind the counter brazenly wandered his eyes all over me, mentally undressing me.

“Don’t worry Tegan, I’ll fix that. Good morning sir, I need to send my granddaughter’s trunk PLA to her school.” She smacked my hand away from my skirt. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it was lengthening my skirt that she planned to fix.

“Pop the trunk on the scale and unless you want to pay for extra weight take the shopping bags off the top.” The young man informed us. I guess chivalry is dead. I didn’t mean because I now looked a girl, but it’s his job and he expects my Grandma with my help to lift it off the counter and lower it onto the floor scale.

The PLA worker came around the counter as we lifted the trunk off it and stood behind me as I backed toward the scale, so Grandma could walk forward.

“Wait Tegan. Young man get out of the way. My granddaughter is fourteen and with you standing where you are it looks like you are trying to get her to back into you.” Grandma was frowning over my shoulder until he moved from behind me. I was just glad Grandma worked out his intention, as I would have been livid if what he planned to have happen had occurred. Perhaps he would have carried the trunk for Grandma, but didn’t because he was too busy orchestrating a groping of me. Was this something I had to constantly think about now?

I picked the few bags we would take with us off the trunk, so its weight could be read. As I stood up I noticed he had been looking at my bottom when I was bent over. It would seem he still got the secondary prize and I was suddenly feeling guilty at all the looking I had previously done of other girls. It’s different when you’re the oglee rather than the ogler.

Needless to say, I was quite happy to get out of the PLA office and get on the platform that the Hessle train will leave from in nearly fifteen minutes.

“Will you tell me now, how my trunk will get to school in time?” I asked after we sat on one of the platform seats waiting for our train to arrive.

“It’s dated, and the young man believes what just happened is him recalling us dropping the trunk nearly two weeks ago. His minor wrist slap for forgetting to get the trunk started on its journey pays back for his lewd behavior toward you, and failure to help a customer put the trunk on the scale. You not using the return half of the train ticket to Malton pays for the extra delivery cost of getting the trunk to your school in three days instead of the usual two weeks.”

“We’re not catching the train? Grandma it is quite a long drive to the school, and I swear the bus always uses different roads on the moors and all the road signs are still wrong up there***. I might get us lost.” I started to panic, being on the moors around our school in the evenings and not knowing exactly where you’re going is probably on the top ten list of stupid things you should never do.

“Tegan, don’t worry about it. I looked the school over before your parents offered it to you. I can find it on a cloud filled new moon night without a candle. Look, here comes our train.” Her distraction successfully pulled me away from paying more attention to her odd expression.

Having got home I quickly packed my suitcase with my purchases, and put Melisa’s outfit into the laundry. I then made a quick lunch for Grandma and myself. I brought a tray with the ploughman’s sandwiches on plates and a couple of cups of tea, and gave the one with milk and sugar to my Grandma who’d been resting in an armchair in the rear sitting room. I’d actually grown used to drinking my teeth black. Part of me was worried that it meant my personality had been partially overwritten for Anne Marie’s. Then I took stock that it was the only change I noticed and if I had to have one thing overwritten then my taste in how I took my cup of tea, though central to an Englishman’s life, was something I was willing to sacrifice, as long as everything else that was me, remained me.

“Tegan I will wash up the lunch things while you try to puzzle out the fourth word. Dependant on whether or not you manage in the next two to three hours will determine how we will address the one outstanding issue before we head back to your school.” Grandma told me prior to taking the tray of dirty pots back through to the kitchen, and I picked up the brown leather book once more.

I tried to not waste time being distracted wondering what the one thing left to address was. I was quiet successful, if I do say so, but what can I say it might be an annoying puzzle, but magic, kind of lends itself to provide a reason to concentrate. A bit over an hour and a half later and I had no idea if I had got closer on the fourth word, being that it wasn’t English and didn’t have any of the standard twenty six letters. I knew it was a concept of all knowledge, magic power, true names, and that the superscript double-letter symbol stood for all of that raised to the power of something else. Did I just need to grasp the concept, or must I pronounce this word that my gut informed me likely was not of any spoken language? It would be nice if as a concept I just needed to hold the image then I would only need to work out what it was risen to the power of.

As I glanced at the window looking out onto the backgarden I saw the translucent reflection of Tegan in the glass.

It’s myself! ‘Daughter’s of Wood source of knowledge, magic, power, and true names raised by the power of my own will.’ And the book’s cover was no longer brown, but blood red with the title in cursive black letters clearly visible even when looking straight at it. Including the fourth unspoken word, I now grasped the concept of.

“Perfect I won’t have to return to your school every week. You, Tegan, are going to learn your first spell. Tegan think ‘veiled for twenty-seven and eleven and open the book.” Grandma informed me. I hadn’t even known she was there.

“Don’t I need to be given a bit more specific information on what the spell does?”

“Tegan, just do as I ask, there isn’t too much time. Think ‘veiled for twenty-seven and eleven’. Open the book, learn the spell.” Grandma told me in a voice that sounded all kinds of frustrated with me. I did as requested and what do you know the spell explained all the missing information that my Grandma couldn’t be bothered to tell me.

Like hell it did. The bloody page was completely blank. I’d barely started to turn away from the book and Grandma is almost yelling at me. “Yes, Tegan the page is blank. Just keep looking at the page until you learn something, I’ll start making high-tea^.”

So for over two hours I stared at a blank page of a magic book. Magic sucks!

I was offered a quick interruption to scoff down a scone with a cup of black tea then back to staring at the blank page. I think I dozed off as suddenly I’m feeling… full? My hands are also hurting from holding the book so long. They feel hot, sweaty and itching and on fire. “Hell!” I dropped the book my hands looked like they’d got sun burned. There was something trapped inside me pushing and straining. Trying to escape.

“Great you have the spell. I’ll pop the book away.” Grandma picked up the now once more brown leather bound book that had no words on its cover and locked it up in the cabinet.

“Now, conveniently when she was shaving your legs, Anne Marie was only wearing crotchless panties. I need you to imagine the area between your legs looking exactly how Anne Marie’s did. Do you have that image firmly in your head, Tegan?”

I went through a gambit of emotions where embarrassed and humiliated took pride of place, but finally was able to think the image and nodded to let my Grandma know I had it. “Now Tegan, while keeping firm hold on that image say, ‘For twenty-seven hours and eleven minutes veil me with this image.’”

“Well Granddaughter you have just cast your first spell, well intentionally and knowingly for the first time at least. When you wake up tomorrow you will feel that odd full feeling and find you are able to cast it again. Do so, each morning at the same time and you will seem to have female genitals, and no bumps will show even when just wearing panties.”

Worried I patted the front of my skirt between my legs and felt I was still there even though the skirt seemed to go right in between my legs without meeting any obstruction. “It’s only an illusion, Tegan. The spell is only a beginning level easy spell that makes an illusion of minor changes to the witches own body for a limited duration. Oh, but next time you don’t need to give yourself the knickers too. I really don’t think that style is appropriate at your age young lady.”

“Should I put my suitcase into the car now, Grandma?” I needed to change the topic fast and work out how to stop all my blood rushing to my face.

“Actually, while you let me lock up, bring your suitcase to the green house.” I looked at my Grandma oddly, but then as she gave me the get going hand signals I grabbed it from beside the sofa and headed to the kitchen with it.

“If we need something from the green house doesn’t it make sense to pop the suitcase in the boot first?” I asked Grandma as she locked the rear kitchen door.

“We need the suitcase…

“Grandma, I don’t have the magic book to re-learn the spell.”

“Every morning you will wake up primed to cast that spell, as long as you don’t waste the spell casting a different illusion on yourself you’re covered. Now come on let’s get to the greenhouse.” Grandma opened the gate and headed across the garden’s paving stones to the green house behind the swing. She entered the greenhouse and proceeded to lift the wooden board off the well.

I couldn’t stop myself from shivering and getting worried. I have nightmares about Grandma’s well and it’s Helen and Grandma’s fault. Possibly it is because I’ve been told the story multiple times or it was so traumatic I do recall what happened when I was a few months shy of three years old. We’d come to visit our Grandparents and while Dad, Mum, Grandpa and Grandma were sitting on deck chairs in the back garden drinking tea and talking, I was chasing Helen around the garden. Well chasing in as far as a toddler can do.

Earlier Grandma had been watering her prize tomatoes in the green house with well water, and she hadn’t covered the well back up. The greenhouse door was propped open and the well was just inside the entry. Helen ran inside the greenhouse and seeing the open hole jumped over it. I toddled after my older sister, and fell in the well.

A well the gardener dumped fertilizer in. So a foot or two down there is then three or more feet of shitty water. I think my Dad broke the world record for running the hundred yards as I was just starting to cry out. I was likely swallowing Grandma’s secret tomato food, when I saw him hanging down into the well and yanking me toward the obstructed circle of light past the oddly shining stones of the well wall. I don’t have memory of being under the water, but Dad said I wasn’t visible and he plunged his arms into the liquid shit, frantically waving them ‘till he captured me.

I’m less clear on recalling the trip to A&E and the injections and course of antibiotics I was apparently put on, but I still have nightmares of the well’s cover being closed after I’d fallen in. Laughter and voices saying Thomas was a useless son and not worth getting dirty to save anyway. Needles to say, I was a bit put out that Grandma chose now, to water her flippin’ tomatoes!

Grandma stood in front of the now uncovered well, and said. “Ding Dong Dell; Belmare Moor Springs in my well.”

Notes:

‘*’ Ferensway is a major dual carriage way that sort of makes up one side of a pseudo ring road around downtown Hull. It is a surface street though, not a Motorway/Interstate Hwy (for US).

‘**’ PLA is/was a crazy system all attendees of boarding school become used to. It was a department of British Rail and now that the trains have been privatized, I have no clue what boarding students use to get their trunks to school. (Surely running an overladen luggage cart through a brick wall isn’t on the cards though). PLA stands for Passenger Luggage in Advance and it does go in advance it just gets there after you do. You ship it a week before you are traveling and it will arrive about a week after you get there. Its one useful function was to let professors know that you can’t give them the holiday work they assigned as, 'it is in the trunk' that hasn’t arrived yet. I always 'seemed' to forget to pack it in my suitcase, and they gave up in punishing me for doing so. Sometimes they even forgot to request it when the trunks surely had finally arrived.

‘***’ I don’t know if it was official policy or the local Yorkshire men that came up with this idea, but during World War II they went around the Moors and deliberately twisted the road signs to point the wrong ways. If you try to use road signs you will go in circles. They did it in case the Germans got into the country they would have a hard time driving in the Moors. They never explained why the Germans would be interested in invading the Moors though. It has been quite a few years since I was last on the Moors relying on the road signs (thank you GPS), but it wasn’t fixed then, and I expect it still isn’t.

‘^’ high-tea a small snack provided to children to stop them getting hungry when dinner is going to be served late.

Grandma stood in front of the now uncovered well and said. “Ding Dong Dell; Belmare Moor Springs in my well.”

Well thankfully my concern we were going to leap into the shit filled well was unfounded...

...as an archway rose and expanded out of the well in the same sparkling stone work that the sides of the well were constructed of in my nightmare recollections of being stuck down there. Flagstone pavers ran through the archway covering the well opening.

The other side of the archway was a stone room. That is a room constructed of solid grey stone blocks that looked as much in agreement to the glass sided greenhouse we were stood in on this side of the archway as is seen at the edge of a snow fall on the Sahara. Whereas looking around the arch the rest of the greenhouse and beyond garden and rear wooden fence were in evidence what was through the archway was not Grandma’s greenhouse.

“What the he…

Quickly stopping swearing I interrupted myself. “Nursery rhymes are spells?”

“That one is a cantrip. Think of it as a shortcut, and yes there is power in shared repetition. It lets me harness the course foundation this spell uses. Course isn’t the foundation my magic is founded on…

“Anyway now’s not the time to go into the foundations of magic. Quickly Tegan, there will be other students returning to Belmare Moor this evening, we can’t hold their Well Spring too long.” Grandma almost pushed me through the archway. I stumbled through while steadying my suitcase before I knocked it into the stones of the archway we passed beneath; and yes, the words ‘Well Spring’ were spoken with obvious capitals.

The other side was an octagon stonewalled enclosed room without window. There was a pair of open doors in one of the eight sides. Flames burned from torches in sconces that provided the flickering lighting. With Grandma joining me beside the wall, the archway folded into a fountain within a circular pond. The fountain was playing; a jet of clear water rose into the air and fell into the top smallest circular basin. Water was overfilling the three stone circular basins. The top basin having the smallest diameter caused a ring-shaped curtain of water to fall into the larger diameter basin beneath. If you included the circular pond as a fourth bowl of water, then thrice the circular curtain of water fell into a greater basin beneath.

“Tegan, don’t you dare mess with Belmare Moor’s Well Spring!” Grandma exclaimed, and I could here the capitals of each of those four words as before. I mumbled to myself, “The BMWS is strong in this one.” She hurried me through the pair of huge wooden arched doors and we were in my school’s staffroom. Grandma was not even smirking at what I knew she’d heard me say.

The usually closed oriental style wooden wardrobe was open. Its doors were smaller mirror images of the stone chamber’s ones. The fountain room looked smaller looking back through the wardrobe into it and the fountain proceeded to fold itself into an archway once more. Recalling that the bottom of the cupboard doors usually were just below waist height and that there should be drawers and the open stand below made a secondary image superimpose on the prior making the fountain room even smaller and creating a near three-foot step out of it into the staff room.

“Tegan!” Grandma’s yell caused me to shift my attention allowing the entrance of the re-enlarged fountain room to line up with the staff room floor once more.

“Misses Goss, so this is Tegan. Tegan, we’ve set you up in the fifth years’ ‘Seagull’ dorm, as they have a spare bed that neither the third years’ ‘Fire Escape One and Two’ nor fourth years’ ‘Fame’ dorms have. Well that is if Misses Goss is correct on your pillar.”

I was trying to get a handle on why my school’s staffroom had some kind of magic portal room in its oriental wardrobe. I mean as I couldn’t do magic until I became closer to being a girl and only girls could be witches one would expect a magic school to be all girls like my sister’s. This school seemed to know about magic. My headmistress Misses White carried on talking whilst I was thinking how strange it was that we all called our headmistress a witch and she just might be one.

Even with those distractions I didn’t miss the importance of ‘my pillar’ and that it was the right one. I added it to the earlier foundation of magic being the wrong one. Obviously there were different foundations and pillars of magic. As long as the words weren’t arbitrary it would appear there were different methods to magic which sure beat Grandma’s demand ‘to keep looking at a blank page until you learn something, Tegan!’ that must have been due to the time crunch to not actually be taught in a more usual fashion.

I was pulled from my musing when my Grandma proudly exclaimed. “Most Wood witches are Decay pillar, with secondaries of either Battle or Blaze. It’s why there’s never been a Wood witch at Belmare Moor…

“Hi, Miss Myles, nice half term?” My headmistress greeted Sharon, a second form girl that was trying to not look curious standing within the cabinet’s opening into the staff room. “Hurry up, out of the receiving room. You’re holding the Well Spring.” The pregnant silence as Sharon crossed the room to the staff room’s exit was so loud it was deafening.

As the door finally closed, Misses White strode to the phone. “Fiona, can you cover the staff room I have a new student and their guardian I need to take to my office?” Replacing the phone she turned to us as I saw the fountain folding into an arch once more for the next witch my school apparently hid. “We will continue this conversation in my office.”

Beatrice Walker was the next girl to step into the staff room. I, like almost every boy in the school had a major crush on the fifth year prefect. She looked at me inquisitively then nodded to Misses White before seeing my Grandma.

“Misses Goss, are you here to accept my family's terms?” Beatrice inquired while I was probably gormlessly staring, rather stunned she knew my Grandma and wondering how to leverage that to getting a shot at her. “A third witch and a drone is fair for the Wood coven.”

“I am sorry Miss Walker; Thomas has been pulled from Belmare…

“My Mother had right of first refusal to counter…

“Miss Walker, please meet Tegan. She is family. Sometimes family trumps even still open formal offers.”

Beatrice glared at me, causing me to take a step back. Before I could ask what the hell everyone was talking about Beatrice whirled around and exited the staffroom not quite slamming the door. I was still trying to think what to ask when the door timidly re-opened. Not as I thought for an apologetic Beatrice to return, but for the Latin teacher, Misses Mills to enter.

“Yes, well let’s head to my office to confirm... before we cause any more issues for this half term.” Misses White tried to fill the prior silence that had tamed the earlier pregnant one. “Fiona, thanks for covering. I wouldn’t have asked, but this is critical.” She then gestured us to follow.

I had never been in the headmistress’s office before. Two of the four large rope sash windows, each hung on their two ropes, were partially opened and allowing a gentle breeze to enter from the sixth form terrace behind. Beyond the terrace wall, a sliver of the sloped sundial lawn was visible prior to the girls’ tennis courts and forest after. Beyond the forest of this dell unseen the moor began its apparent endless carpeting of the rolling land. The sun dial and most of sundial lawn couldn’t be seen of course as it was hidden by the ten or so foot drop beyond this side of the terrace low wall.

Within the office chunky solid teak furniture failed in dwarfing the tiled floor room. The expanse of bared floor before her desk made it obvious you weren’t welcome in visiting the headmistress. She would be sat on her throne behind her defensive desk barrier. The ‘guest’ chairs, if they were for guests were haphazardly placed between the bookshelves that stood out from the walls more than the chairs in their solid, but failing attempt to dominate the huge room. The failure being in the huge open expanse of tiled flooring that the large furniture was unable to encroach upon. Heck you could probably allow twenty or so couples to hold a ball in the open space.

The headmistress muttered something about releasing the veil and spread her arms wide and the abstract tiled floor flowed as if made of water. The reason for the needed huge expanse suddenly apparent as a fifteen or so odd footed circle centered within a thirty-five foot diameter circle appeared. Within the smaller circle a pentagram appeared in the middle, the points of its star touching the inner circle. Then words appeared between the two circles, first at the points of the star. ‘Wood’ was at twelve o’clock if the point, pointing toward the headmistress desk was the top of the diagram.

My pondering if these were names of the five covens was dashed as the subsequent points going around clockwise from ‘Wood’, were ‘Course’, ‘Zephyr’, ‘Ore’ and ‘Irradiance’. I was interrupted in trying to interpret the rest by Misses White.

“Tegan, leave your suitcase here and stand in the very center pentagon, of the pentagram. Then we can find your pillars, foundations and work out why you’re joining our school so late.” I looked at Grandma and getting from her, a go on gesture and an unworried nod I decided not to argue. Thus emboldened I entered the pentagram, hoping I wasn’t about to be sacrificed to some demon. Hey it was a valid concern. Numerous words were written just within the circumference of the outer circle and the ones to either side of the twelve O’clock position were ‘Demonology’ and ‘Necromancy’ If those were Misses White’s most important as they were closest to her desk then I wasn’t too happy following her orders. I turned and started looking at what some of the other words said.

“Face the top, Tegan.” When I turned to face ‘Wood’ and incidentally the ‘Demonology’ and ‘Necromancy’ words beyond that I was most concerned about, and didn’t get any further correction I was glad that at least I’d worked out the orientation correctly. I mean it’s a flippin’ circle and all the words appear right side up when facing them from the center of it. How the hell is there a bloody top to it?

“Tegan, relax and let the magic flow through you.” Initially I wondered how I was supposed to relax on demand while standing in the headmistress’s office, a place I expected only kids in trouble usually ventured. I had been on a roller-coaster of emotions since yesterday that hadn’t let up in its dipping and swerving consistency. For everything I seemed to learn I unearthed a thousand more troubling questions. I had no idea how I was supposed to let magic flow through me, and whether I wanted to let it, when I worked out how to do so anyway. Needless to say I was about as relaxed as a startled deer facing hi-beams on a motorway at night, and likely about to face the same thing as said deer in such a situation would. My heart was pounding up my throat. Sweat seemed to be jumping ship prior to said collision. My mind was screaming at me to get the hell out of the middle of the f’ing ritual circle.

Have you ever been doing nothing and a hum seems to appear within your ears when there is no sound. The hum becomes a buzz with a sudden shift of frequency and it feels like pressure is building within your ears before there is suddenly a pop, often imagined rather than heard, and you return to the silence that had always been around you, whilst you had lived through noise and pressure that if it existed, did so due to your body creating it. Well imagine that but not within just your ears.

The buzzing is heard within your toes, finger nails the tips of your hair, but it doesn’t stop. There’s no pop and release it just keeps building. Then while it is occurring in your illusioned genitals and you’re worried of sporting a boner and wondering if the illusion will still cover it, you seem to have one within your none existent illusionary female genitals and your nipples become rock hard. They have no illusion to hide their occurrence and you’re sure both older women can see your new female chest ornaments protruding from the overly tight clothing that seems designed to show them off. The pop, when it occurs, is thankfully and annoyingly just before you are sure you would experience the usual male orgasm along with the ‘La Petite Mort’ of a still not experienced female, mind blowing one.

The word ‘Wood’ before me is nearly blindingly shining in front of the top point of the star that I initially don’t count the word within a Greek Corinthian style column that says ‘Blaze’ glowing to the left of me. It’s only when I notice that the word ‘Life’ in a Doric style Greek column that was as close to the middle space of star points ‘Wood’ and ‘Course’ as the word ‘Blaze’ was to ‘Wood’ and ‘Irradiance’ that I realized ‘Blaze’ had a muted glow that was its own, and not caused by the brightly glowing ‘Wood’.

This was concerning as the pillar titled ‘Blaze’ had three lines like radians pointing to three words along the inner circumference of the outer circle. One of those words was the Demonology I’d been worried about entering the pentagram for.

“See I was right Decay pillar on a primary Wood foundation. Tegan also has a secondary Zephyr foundation and a potential secondary pillar of Blaze.” My grandma interrupted my musing. Turning I saw there were two more glowing words behind me. Inside the Tuscan style pillar with an unreadable word that was directly at the six O’clock position and actually couldn’t be read anymore as it was irradiating brighter than ‘Wood’ was. Beyond the point of the star pointing just before five O’clock was the word ‘Zephyr’ that glowed a bit more than the word ‘Blaze’ was doing on the opposite side of the circle from it.

The line that ran from star point “Wood’ to star point ‘Zephyr’ was bright silver. Three of the other four lines creating the pentagram were still the original black. The fifth line that ran from the points ‘Wood’ to ‘Ore’ was grayish. It became closer to silver at the end closer to the ‘Wood’ point of the star.

Studying the Tuscan pillar that was at the base of the floor art, I found it to have, like the Blaze titled Corinthian column, three lines heading to the inside of the Outside circle. Each ended in a word but only one made much sense. ‘Hex’ the word on my right, that would be moving toward the seven O’clock if looking from outside the circle, likely dealt with hexes and curses but what ‘Gab’ at the six O’clock position and ‘Chrysalis’ heading toward five O’clock meant had me drawing a blank.

“Tegan come here and pull your blouse out of the skirt at the front.” My Grandma interrupted my next attempt to study the pentagram in more detail. She then pulled my blouse up as I hadn’t done so and touched my navel piecing. “One week should be good enough. When you get into your dorm get a shower and then change into your lilac crop top that shows off your navel.” She then mumbled something about veil that I wasn’t able to catch as she spoke so fast. Or more likely, it was I that even while trying to concentrate on the spoken words seemed to get distracted and unable to hear her words. I felt a tingle on my belly, and looking at my navel, I found the jewelry was changed.

Though it still had three gold chains dangling beneath, the stone had changed. Instead of the round amethyst there was a marquis cut stone that seemed to have orange, pink and yellow hues to it. The marquis cut stone was vertically oriented and the gold mounting had writing the letters were hard to read. Hard to read except for five that were several fonts larger. The larger letters were like old books that capitalized the first letter of a new chapter. Around the edge of the mounting each word’s first letter was made of the significantly larger font.

“Perfect, so she is enrolled?” The headmistress inquired.

“Yes, she will be on correspondent course for this Winter Solstice taking her third year trials on the three subjects of Decay’s pillar at Gwithial Ylt. She can use four of your subjects for the other choices.”

“Perfect, Tegan you are not allowed to speak of Gwithial Ylt to anyone that has not attended there, which for you is great as you actually haven’t seen it, so have no reason to talk about it. Wear the top you’re Grandma stated and you will appear to inform to all that you passed the third year trials Magna Cum Laude. They will assume you took them early, when you will actually be taking them late.”

My Grandma agreed. “Yes, ensure it is covered all of next Tuesday’s evening so no one sees it change when my illusion ends. Per the requirements of your other school you are not allowed to talk about it so if someone comments that you changed the piercing, do not say anything to confirm or deny making any change. Don’t lie Tegan, hopefully you’ve learnt that you only lie when you know what you are doing. You can’t get in trouble if you just refuse to talk about something and let them assume whatever they want.”

I frowned but didn’t really want to say anything as though it seemed my headmistress knew all, I felt less humiliated if I didn’t confirm she knew.

“Oh, and you need to study hard as in just a bit over six months you have your third year trials on seven subjects you should have studied for three years. Gwithial Ylt has a stricter pass criteria of about the top third verses Belmare Moore’s nearly half the third years.”*

While I was wrapping my head around the bomb my Grandma just dropped on me my headmistress ensured I had enough to worry about. “Tegan, you can’t just pass the trials. You’re letting everyone know you passed them Magna Cum Laude. Thus you need to be in the top five percent to not be lying.”

“Grandma, why didn’t you just give me the standard passing one?” I asked annoyed.

“Gwithial Ylt requires you to pass at this level to allow for them to accept you late in their correspondent course. Be thankful I didn’t give you Summa Cum Laude’s stone instead of the Padparadscha sapphire** you’re currently wearing. I considered to force you to aim for the top three percent and thus ensure you definitely meet their requirement.” Was my Grandma’s unhelpful reply to my query. It also made me wonder if the school’s actual requirement was lower than the one she had told me. Maybe I only needed to pass and by forcing me to think I needed to meet top five percent of students she got me aiming higher than needed.

“We also need to address why you chose to transfer here. The easiest is you want to specialize in the Life and Illusion pillars, as those are Belmare Moor’s specialty and you would have stayed at Gwithial Ylt if you wanted to specialize in Decay, Battle or even Blaze.” Misses White changed the conversation. “It also would explain why you don’t know much magic in them as obviously you didn’t study those subjects at your prior school.”

“I need to understand how magic works too. I mean I can’t be surprised when a well turns into a portal like how we got to school. Grandma you said you would explain more about cantrips, why nursery rhymes work the way they do, and stuff?” I tried to get a better understanding so I didn’t feel lost, confused and generally well... like my question fizzled into not knowing what to say, so did my thoughts.

“That is actually a good idea. A cantrip is a shortcut or crutch for using a foundation that you don’t have natural talent in.” My Grandma began and indicated I should sit in the chair beside her. “I like you have ‘Wood’ as my primary foundation and when witches were seen using trees as portals the legends of dryads were born. Similarly ‘Course’ witches were the birth of stories on naiads, mermaids and selkie. ‘

Grandma took a breath and before I could interrupt and ask questions continued. “Of course the male dominated none magical society would associate animals, monsters or men in place of the witches they’d seen. Case in point the best known legend of an ‘Ore’ witch birthed both the tales of an ‘effeminate man’ known as the pied piper and the vicious criminal harlequin, and the whole confusion of angels being effeminate male or female. Angels would actually be tales spawned from seeing ‘Irradiance’ witches.”

The headmistress interrupted. “We don’t have time for this. You will have to initially come off as a cold aloof snob that looks down on Belmare’s students, so as to not say anything that shows your lack of knowledge. I will assign detentions against your poor social behavior to provide some time for you to meet your Grandma, and myself. I will give you books charmed to be legible only to you, so others think your studying magic far beyond them. Ignore teacher’s questions, I will have prepared them that I am handling your detentions. Oh, and as you already have created an enemy I’ll call that prefect to show you around. Ignore her, and look down on her.“

My Grandma grabbed my hand “Tegan, no matter what she asks about Thomas and contracts, ignore her or tell her, that her Mother must talk about that with Misses Goss. Don’t refer to me as your Grandma. Don’t ask her anything…

“Due to what Beatrice assumed earlier she would have to at least respond to an inquiry on where Thomas is now going to school. Failing not to would allow a feud to be declared. When it didn’t take it would bring your house of cards down.” The headmistress became increasingly more agitated. “What can she say and not lie? I was unaware of the formal contract when I agreed to this, Brin.”

My Grandma got up and started to pace. Her frown stopped me from bugging her on what her business with Beatrice and the prefect’s family was about. I wasn’t stupid to not know it clearly involved me, and I tried hard to think what it could mean other than what it appeared to tell.

My Grandma started laughing. “We’re making this harder than it needs to be. Tegan, listen you need to repeat this verbatim. No adding words at all.” My Grandma actually waited until she had got me to verbally acknowledge I understood. Not accepting my nod, as a good enough answer.

“Tegan, use this only If Beatrice asks. Ignore anyone else as if the words weren’t spoken. But, If Beatrice asks where Thomas is, you reply. ‘Thomas has been enrolled in Sexey’s School near Lusty Hill, Somerset,’ Note you never volunteer or talk about it under any other question as you don’t want to lie.”

“But, Grandma if I say that it means I am lying…

“No Tegan, witches are steeped in tradition and this is a formal way of telling Beatrice to fuck off.” I gasped, I mean when my Dad accidently hits himself with the hammer I’ve heard him swear, but I never thought I would witness it from my Grandma even if she did something more painful to herself by accident. “Remember, it is only said if Beatrice asks specifically where Thomas is. For any other question about Thomas from her you tell her to have her Mother talk to Misses Goss. To anyone else you need to be a stuck up bitch. Everyone here including the teachers, you consider below you.”

“She can’t behave that way to the Gwithial Ylt alumni on staff.” The headmistress said as the only challenge to the instructions my Grandma had given me. I was busy pinching myself as I am in a room with the headmistress, and Grandma is telling me to be rude and disrespectful to her staff.

“So Tegan, there are four exceptions that require you to be polite they are your Headmistress, Misses White, the two teachers Miss Hodges and Misses Fitzpatrick, and lastly the head of the girls’ dorms, Dame Martin. Don’t talk about magic. Oh, yes remember the boys and men here do not know about magic.”

Notes:
*Passing criteria for both schools and the allowed stone to signify achievement
Gwithial Ylt pass ratings for third year trials:
Pass – Approx top third of class
Cum Laude – Top thirteen percent of class – Imperial Topaz
Magna Cum Laude – Top five percent of class - Padparadscha Sapphire
Summa Cum Laude – Top three percent of class – Trapiche Emerald

Belmare Moor pass ratings for third year trials:
Pass – Approx top half of class
Cum Laude – Top twenty percent of class - Topaz
Magna Cum Laude – Top thirteen percent of class – Blue Sapphire
Summa Cum Laude – Top five percent of class - Emerald

Gwithial Ylt pass ratings for seventh year trials:
Pass – Approx top two thirds of class
Honores Excelsis – Top thirteen percent of class - Pink Star Ruby
Honoribus Summum – Top five percent of class - Diamond

Belmare Moor pass ratings for seventh year trials:
Pass – Approx top two thirds of class
Honores Excelsis – Top twenty percent of class - Ruby
Honoribus Summum – Top five percent of class - Diamond

Imperial Topaz are golden orange yellow vs. the clear or cloudy light blue of standard stones
**Padparadscha Sapphire has a distinctive blend of orange, pink and yellow tones within the stone
Trapiche Emeralds have a six pointed radial pattern within the gem

I was trying to memorize the twenty words around the circumference of the outer circle when the floor flowed back into an abstract tiled design as it was when we first arrived. I became aware that my Grandma was hugging me tightly and her eyes looked strange. Was that fear or was she worried I would cause more problems. Yes, the problem maker that must be it. Of course she expects me to break some school rule and get expelled.

“Tegan, don’t let any boy touch your navel piercing.” Grandma said. ‘As if!’ No boy is getting anywhere bloody near me, I thought.

“That’s too much. The younger girls might not know…

“Dorothy, there is no reason for a younger girl to be around her, and they would ask, and be told not to. Boys though, you know they rarely ask.”

The Headmistress seemed to almost hiss. “Fine!” she growled out. “Tegan don’t let anyone touch your bling. If you deliberately cause a student major bodily harm I’ll expel you.”

My Grandma and the Headmistress were in a staring match and I’m left wondering on the dichotomous sentences. After the Headmistress seems to defer, my Grandma turns back to me and says. “Oh, also before I forget Tegan. Tegan Allana Lesley Wehl’s fourteenth birthday was yesterday, June second. Happy belated birthday…

“Grandma my birth…

“No Tegan, Thomas’s birthday was last year on November fourteenth. Please tell me your fourteenth birthday was yesterday, and thank me for wishing you a belated happy birthday.” My Grandma quickly stopped my interruption. Obviously this, like owning my name, was important. When she would decide to clue me in on why it was important was anyone’s guess. Well I better use my full name.

Trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, I went ahead with the latest lie needed to be a dagger to cut through a prior truth. “I am Tegan Allana Lesley Wehl, and my fourteenth birthday was yesterday June second. I thank you Grandma, for wishing me happy birthday for yesterday.”

“Oh, Tegan Allana Lesley Wehl, I wish you belated happy returns for your fourteenth birthday, that was yesterday on June second.” My headmistress stated in a perfectly normal voice. How she could say it without a hint of sarcasm or trace of jest was beyond me.

That reinforced how important this must be. Especially as my Grandma gave a go on gesture toward me, so I realized I needed to obviously reinforce the lie some more. I had difficulty keeping all the sarcasm dripping out the second time I quoted my full name and apparent birthday. While thanking my headmistress for remembering it, and offering me belated returns, a few drops sneaked out.

“Next time young lady, keep the attitude out of thanking someone that is doing you a huge favor. I am sorry Dorothy for Tegan’s lack of manners, and hope you can teach the tomboy, how a young lady should behave.”

“Think nothing of it Brin. Tegan may be a rough stone, but I will ensure adequate polishing is applied to allow a young lady that can be accepted in society’s highest courts, and hallowed halls, graduates from Bellmare Moor.” Misses White, told my Grandma. Her eyes promising I wouldn’t enjoy the needed polishing to remove any unwanted rough edges. “Anyway Beatrice Walker will be here shortly. Remember, nothing mentioned about Gwithial Ylt, magic, the third year’s trial or Thomas and any of your relations. Except of course the one question on where Thomas is, when asked by Beatrice only.”

My Grandma then spoke. “Refer to me as Misses Goss, and just take this bag. I packed it while you were busy. It has your change of clothes I want you to wear this evening and toiletries for your shower. You don’t need to lug a suitcase around while being given the school tour. This is your first day at Bellmare and you will need the fifth year prefect to show you the school.” My Grandma informed me this while I was still worrying over the headmistress’s desire to polish away my rough edges. I accepted the bag as a knock on the door happened.

“Come in,” Misses White called out while taking her seat behind the monstrous desk. “Oh, and here is the fifth-year prefect, Miss Walker. Beatrice this is Tegan. She will be with you in Seagull dorm. Could you give her a tour of the school’s library, assembly, dining and the three female recreation rooms? Wrap up by ending the tour with Seagull.”

Misses White then turned to me. “Tegan follow Miss Walker. She will get you settled in at Bellmare Moor.”

I noted how she had twice given Miss Walker’s last name and not mine and recalled how I was not to offer any information. It would seem that included my last name too. Well I assumed so when coupled with how my Grandma had wanted me to not let out being closely related. Not wanting to give anything away I figured I would be mute, but for the one question. Hopefully, I would work things out before I gave myself away. Now, I had another question to add to the millions or so I’d already collected. Why was I being placed in the fifth year girl’s dormitory?

“Come on, let’s get started, follow me, and I’ll show you our school.” Beatrice briskly turned back to the door, and re-opened it. The fifth-year prefect was a blond bombshell with all the right curves and the subject of numerous prior wet dreams of mine, I must confess. Now for unknown reasons, I get to share a room with her. Magic was soooo good! I thought mentally giving myself a high five.

Well that was what I’d initially thought I would be thinking when informed who was going to be showing me around. Then the reality that she was somehow an enemy and the undercurrent that something was fishy in Denmark had destroyed that hot fantasy along with the side of I no longer looked like a boy. Sure as long as my eyes were closed and mirrors weren’t around to reflect my new image I still thought myself a boy. I thought that until I felt my small but far too large breasts move within their captive bra cups, or the swish of my skirt upon my newly hairless legs. It’s sad how easy a dream can turn into a nightmare.

I saw my Grandma and headmistress turn toward each other, to obviously discuss me once I was gone. I wondered how I could stay and ask more questions, but Beatrice was scowling at me, holding the door, and waiting me to follow. Seeing as she was in casual clothes and we only had to wear school uniform outside school hours, while traveling to and from school, I shrugged off my Blazer. It had the added benefit of making Beatrice wait, holding the door open for me until I’d dropped the blazer on a chair.

As I considered working out how to undo the ribbon bow tied around my neck I saw her open her mouth. I guess the ribbon could wait. Beatrice closed her mouth when I headed toward the exit. Seeing I was coming, she stiffly turned and left the room, not holding the door for me. Meaning I had to catch it as it swung closed and reopen it to exit the office.

The black and white tile floor of the manor house hall had warped and sunk in places over its centuries of life. The hall widened at the staffrooms exit due to the stairs that ran back toward the front of the manor house ending, allowing the rest of the hall running to the sixth form terrace at the rear of the building to be a triple wide hallway.

“We use last names or nicknames. What’s your last name?” Beatrice said from the far side of the wide section on the hallway.

Well as I was clueless what I was supposed to say and obviously not wanting to lie I just looked at her. When she folded her arms in front of her chest, likely not liking where I was looking, I smirked and leaned against the wall beside the headmistress’s doorway. Hopefully she would give up and start showing me the females sections of the school. I knew where they were, but it would be nice to actually see the inside of them. Of course I already knew what the library, dining and assembly hall looked like inside as they were used by both boys and girls. I just needed to be shown where they were located so I could let people know I knew where they were and how they looked.

“Your last name will be found out and I’ll make sure to ensure the worst possible nickname is associated with you!” Beatrice decided to offer as an incentive to get me to talk. “Are you dumb?” She then asked as I just smirked at her.

“Why the hell would Thomas, chose you!” Beatrice screamed.

Well that seemed to confirm the horrible suspicion I had been getting about why I had been enrolled in this school. The annoying thing is if I challenge Grandma about it, I can hear her now saying I was given a choice between this school and an all boys’ boarding school. It would seem that Grandma stacked the deck to ensure the correct choice is made. I twisted away angry that I found her beautiful, and annoyed my Grandma had apparently been arranging a marriage with her mother. I was trying to work out why I was angry about something I would have wanted.

“Come on Dumbo!” Beatrice growled turning toward one of the four doors opposite the headmistress office. I didn’t really need to see one of the three music rooms, nor the ‘L’ shaped library that wrapped around them. I was more interested in the door next to the main stair case that led to one of the three girls’ rec rooms, but I didn’t even want to turn back to face her again which was needed to get there. Petty, but to keep my back to her I really only had two choices. Not wanting to return to the Headmistress’s office I walked to the glassed porch that led to the rear door and steps down onto the sixth form terrace.

“You can’t go out onto the sixth form terrace until next year, Dumbo.”

Obviously with me being added to the fifth form girls’ dorm she thought I was in the fifth form like herself. Unfortunately classes tomorrow would end that fallacy. It would save me some grief tonight though if I let her continue with the wrong assumption though. After looking through the glass windows of the exit porch and door I deliberately ignored her. It seemed to be really ticking her off. I also knew that I would have a better chance of not getting ‘Dumbo’ for nickname if I didn’t let her think it bothered me.

“Dumbo, the music rooms are over here. I have been told to show you around, and I don’t want Ma White to have reason to get cross. You’d be wise to not cause problems. Being new you will need allies even if you don’t have the worry of third year trials, you should know witches are still known to go ‘missing’ even if it’s individuals verses the culling of the weaker pre-fifteen year olds. Accidents can still happen, and I’m sure my Mother will allow Misses Goss a drone for the resurrected contract, once you are out of the picture…

I couldn’t help but start laughing. I mean with me out of the picture, there would be no Thomas for her to get engaged to. To think before I’d have thought I’d won something amazing if I’d known I was getting her as a girlfriend. Now with the demeaning ‘drone’ name I wanted nothing to do with her. I was also a little nervous as to the choice of words like culling and the Rawcliffs sales associate’s death rate question earlier today made the third year witches’ trials appear to be extremely sinister. When Grandma stated only a third of Gwithial Ylt passed, she’d never mentioned that two thirds failed. I’d assumed that and I was noticing that it seemed witches avoided lying and offering information by getting the other person to make incorrect assumptions.

The laughing annoyed Beatrice no end. I thought better of using the sixth form terrace, as that would yield power to Beatrice, and my laughing allowed me to feel justified walking back toward her. Then to carry on looking down on her I past her and the music and library doors and opened the door at the base of the main staircase opposite the staff room door. The door I had always been curious to enter.

Walking into one of the girl’s rec room I released the door as she had done to me earlier and entered the room. There were several groups of girls clustered around. They all stopped talking and stared at me. I ignored them and strode toward the opposite door I’d seen upon my entry that likely led to the next girl’s rec room. I figured they would chalk it up to me pretending to act as if I was supposed to be there and knew where I was going, which I sort of was as I had never been in these rooms.

I was opening the second door when I heard Beatrice call out to me from behind in frustration. Obviously the worry of not doing as she was told competed with her likely desire to let me fend on my own. I guessed the first rec room was the social meeting one as it had coffee tables sofas and arm chairs in several arrangements throughout. The next room was darker with no windows and its lights off. A TV blared out some advert, the chairs and sofas all arranged to face the right hand corner, where a large flat screen TV hung bathing the room in coloured light. The TV looked considerably larger than the boys’ one.

In the middle of the left hand wall of the room was a door likely to the third girls’ rec room. Ignoring the girls’ that queried who I was I wound my way around the chairs toward that door.

“Hey you’re the new girl from the staff room. What form are you?” Sharon asked getting up from a seat and stopping me from approaching the door. Turning I saw Beatrice arriving through the door I’d entered. There was a third door that likely led out to the stackyard, but I’d have to cross the rec room that had a dozen or more witches to pass to get to it. However, only the second year Sharon prevented me from gaining this closest exit.

“Way older than you, dreg!” I pushed Sharon back into her seat and made my exit leaving a fury of angry conversation behind me. Well Grandma and Ma White had say act a bitch. Mission accomplished, I think.

Entering the third rec room I saw a group of first years playing monopoly, and some primary children in the back corner playing another board game. A few older girls were playing cards. Likely Bloody Mary* seeing Christine’s bloody knuckles. Before any could call out to me I made the way to the door that most likely led back into the Library. I’d considered going through one of the veranda windows out onto sixth form terrace but thought that might be pushing my luck too far when it was found out I was third year. This door was also closer and by tipping over the unused card table before it, I’d likely buy myself some time.

“Fuck!” I heard Beatrice yell as the door was closing having been correct in destination as I entered the library. I considered running, but thought that would appear like I was scared so I walked across the library ignoring the girls and boys that called out at me, but knocking over chairs to hinder them trying to follow.

Behind there seemed to be several people hurrying after me. Thankfully I exited the library back into the original hallway before they caught up. Hearing some of the boys joining though I decided it was time to climb the main stairs. I wasn’t scared of the girls even if they were witches. I probably should be scared of them. I couldn’t stop myself of being scared shitless of the boys though, and knew I could put up a better false front as long as there were no boys ogling me.

I’d climbed the main staircase and got to the first half flight landing with view of the ‘stackyard’ and the stairs turned back on themselves. Of course I could now see three fifth form boys and a red faced Beatrice and even Sharon in the back behind Olivia, Amanda, Rachel and Lisa. More girls and a couple of younger boys were exiting the library too. Perhaps I had underestimated the reaction to my behavior. It looked like I kicked over an anthill, or knocked a beehive off a tree.

“Look Bitch, what the hell have you done to Thomas Wehl!” Beatrice yelled. I was wondering did that count as asking where he was? Murmuring about Thomas quickly spread amongst the crowd.

“Bea… itch, are you asking where Thomas Wehl is?” I figured as that was the only question, I could answer I should prompt her to ask it. Of course realizing I should probably not use her first name and she had called me a bitch I should likely do the same. I congratulated how the accident had come out seeming on purpose, making my curse so much better and personal than hers.

“Yes, skank you can’t refuse me that! You stuck up cow! Tell me where Thomas Wehl is!”

“Thomas has been enrolled in Sexey’s School near Lusty Hill, Somerset…

The shrill scream from Beatrice caused most of the congregated kids to jump. I am pretty sure I would have if I wasn’t frozen. As the scream rose in volume she tore up the stairs talons outstretched, and snarling. Facing an apparently mad woman, I suddenly felt way beyond scared. I’d never fought a girl and I think she planned to scratch my eyes out and tear my hair out at the same time. Panicking and once more I found myself frozen like I’d been yesterday at the salon. I needed to address this freezing under pure fear. I needed magic to push Beatrice back from climbing the stairs. Fall! I thought with every fiber of my being while swinging my arm up in preparation to defend myself. I was completely surprised that one, I had thought to move my arms, and two, they actually moved.

The far larger surprise though was I felt a surge leaving me and rushing toward my approaching nemesis, and pushing her left leg back down. It was only four inches of lost height, but those four inches made the top of her left foot be more than an inch below the lip of the stair. Her forward momentum of that foot ceased while the rest continued at her furious rate. The result, Beatrice tripped.

It was a long moment of time, but I could clearly see in her eyes that she knew I’d done it. I was fairly sure I had. However, even though I was only fairly sure, I knew Beatrice was certain it was me. In desperation she stretched out her arms toward me, and her right caught my blouse. Her fingers slipped between the buttons and her nails dug into the flesh beneath. That flesh, was my flesh.

I felt a horrendous tug as she twisted and started to slide back while falling forward. The lower buttons of my blouse popped off as the blouse was torn open. Her chin slammed into the top stair’s edge and blood poured from her mouth like an oil well first drilled.

Beatrice screamed, and threw something shiny from her right hand. Her right hand was burned badly and she cradled it in her left hand. I was thinking this was odd as with blood dripping from her mouth I would have thought she would be treating that as the place that hurt the most. However, it was her right hand that appeared to be causing her the most pain.

“Lisa don’t touch that!” Amanda yelled. “Only Gwithial Ylt alumni can touch that or you’ll be burned as badly as Beatrice’s hand was.”

“It’s a Padparadscha Sapphire, only the top five percent of third year trials are awarded Magna Cum Laude.” Olivia added.

I noticed that the shiny thing that Beatrice had thrown from her right hand was down at the bottom of the stairs, and all the girls were looking at it and then back at me. The gold chains with a pinky yellow stone looked like my naval piercing. That thought woke me to the pain from my stomach. Looking down I saw I was bleeding from where my navel piercing had been ripped out from me. Actually a fair amount of the spooling blood on the stairs was mine, not Beatrice’s.

“That’s mine!” I yelled in anger. Forgetting Beatrice, and my bleeding wound I quickly scrambled down, passing the screaming girl lying on the stairs. Without thinking just wanting to get my jewelry I stooped and picked it up. Then wondered why I was so concerned about not losing it, as I’d not wanted it in the first place. Further, considering it had been torn out, how I was supposed to put it back in? I was puzzled why it had enabled me to ignore the pain while worried it could be lost. Now with the pain returning I tried to pretend I felt none. Hopefully it would make me seem a bad ass. The boys would think it all an accident but judging by the fear in the girls’ eyes they thought I’d used magic to destroy Beatrice in this fight. That or they feared me due to thinking I was some big wig from a prominent school. Or it could be that I appeared to not feel pain.

“What is going on, out here?” The headmistress tore into the hallway out of her office and looked surprised to see so many people. “Tegan Allana Lesley, why am I not surprised you would be at the center of this. You’ve been on my school campus for less than an hour and already I have students bleeding, and my fifth year prefect badly injured. You have detention with me every evening this and the next two weeks, starting tonight, right after dinner.”

At her comment I looked and saw how badly I'd injured Beatrice. Now I realized the whole 'don't let anyone touch the bling followed by if you severely injure a student you will be expelled'. I was going to be expelled! As soon as she knows Beatrice touched it… What the fuck was my Grandma thinking causing my jewelry to do that to someone’s hand was my next thought.

I was brought out of my panicked thoughts as Ma White turned to the other kids across the hall. “Chris and Shawn return to your dorms until dinner time. Michael, John and Jordan tell a matron from the medical office and wait for dinner in your dorms. Boys you will not talk to anyone about this until a matron has talked to you in your dorms.” The boys nodded and walked off silently.

“Miss Myles, close the library door and keep it closed. Parade Calling.” She glared at the girls in the hallway until they organized themselves. Aside the second year Sharon stood beside the library door she’d been told to close, the two third years stood behind the five fourth years. Rachel Swanson, one of the two upper sixth girls, stood in front of the door to the girl’s rec room I’d first entered.

I was in front of the stairs where I’d picked my jewelry off the floor from, and Beatrice was lying on the stairs. Was I supposed to fall in at the back next to the two third years? I was afraid to cross past Misses White and the fourth years to get there, and I was wondering what my parents would say when they find out I’m expelled.

“Miss Swanson,ensure no one enters into the hallway.” The headmistress called out. Rachel cast a spell that caused all the doors to glow. I assumed the sixth year had locked or sealed all the doors into the entrance hallway.

“Did the boys witness magic?” Misses White asked the girls that were left. I was wondering why no one was offering healing spells to Beatrice or me. I mean surely the headmistress or Rachel knew some. The whole sending three boys to get the matron on duty was to get the boys out of the way wasn’t it? Were the matrons the only ones with healing magic?

“They’ll think Miss Walker tripped due to running up the stairs. Miss Lesley cast silent and with no visible spell elements. She was able to make minimal movement to cast and it looked as if she was preparing against a physical attack, not casting a hex.” Rachel stated.

It took me a moment to realize she meant me when she called out the name Miss Lesley. Rachel carried on so I had to quickly concentrate on what she said next. “Miss Wright’s comment to stop Miss Thompson grabbing Miss Lesley’s navel ring will confuse them and will need to be edited from their memories before they spread that Miss Lesley has jewelry that burns anyone else who touches it. Miss Young mentioned the third year trials, along with the facts about what a padparadscha sapphire means.

Rachel paused and after a moment continued her summary. “It is unclear if the comments are something that require editing with our own third year trials approaching. Miss Wright also named Gwithial Ylt, unclear if any of the five will recall mention of its name with everything else that occurred. That’s everything, Headmistress.”

“Miss Wright and Miss Thompson four night’s detention with Dame Martin, for exposure of magic to workers and drones.” Misses White said. Then when it looked like Lisa was about to complain that she hadn’t said anything, she added. “Or for the sheer stupidity for a fourth year nearly touching stuff that shouldn’t have had to be explained to them, to not touch.

“Miss Wright two more nights of detention for the near naming, and sanctioning is possible if any of the five are found to know the name you released. Miss Young a warning and it is your job to ensure no mention of the summer solstice’s third year trials is mentioned until they are completed.”

I twisted as I saw Beatrice struggling to stand in the corner of my eye. I moved so I could see her better and still face Misses White. She didn’t appear to be about to attack me thankfully, but I wasn’t going to stand with her behind me. Surprisingly she seemed to have stopped bleeding. With how fast she’d been bleeding before I expected her to need stiches before she would stop.

As no one rushed to help her I wondered if I was supposed to. I mean I hadn’t wanted to hurt her. I’d just wanted her to not hurt me. Why the hell was she not staying down until the matron arrived to heal her? She’d lost quite a lot of blood and her hand was blistering with peeling skin, it was so badly burned. I was feeling so guilty on how badly I’d caused her to be injured. Why had Grandma made my jewelry attack people?

“Miss Walker, you finally decided to stand before me. I’ve been here for several minutes and only have your punishment yet to deliver. I don’t think my fifth year prefect should be so pathetically weak. What do you think?”

“I am confident that I can maintain order and am the best; except one of the fifth year to fulfill all requirements of the fifth-year prefect.” She looked sullenly at me. “Miss Lesley, do you demand the fifth-year prefect spot?” She then asked me, obviously thinking my second middle name was my surname as Rachel had before.

I looked frantically at the headmistress who was glaring at me, was I supposed to accept it? Could I, a third year, be the fifth year girl’s prefect? Also I was going to be expelled once Ma White realises whay Beatrice's hand is burned. The headmistress, aside glaring at me, gave me no help in what she wanted me to say. Did the glare mean ‘don’t you dare accept the spot!’ or the reverse? Not trusting myself to speak, I shook my head in the negative and I felt I saw relief in the eyes of the headmistress for choosing correctly? I could be just hoping I saw that and had actually completely messed up though.

“Miss Walker, it seems you get to petition and apologize to me, for being allowed to keep your prefect spot.” Misses White declared. I was just thankful the force of her gaze was on Beatrice and not me anymore.

“I am sorry, Headmistress. It will not happen…

“You’re damn right it won’t. You’re on probation and Queen’s Champion to the one you acknowledge as your better, whom kindly deferred your lost position back to you.You have detention every evening with Miss Hodges through the end of term. I will decide over the summer if you will be allowed back for sixth year and if you will still be a prefect.”

“Thank you, Headmistress…

“Further, for instigating in front of drones and workers, and then losing an informal duel against a new student I had requested you provide orientation to, you will be sanctioned.” At the headmistress’s punishment a few gasps and murmers occured. They were quickly stifled as she turned and glared at the perpetrators that had interrupted her.“You can go to one of the attic punishment cells until I decide you can be healed and allowed to return to the hallowed.”

Beatrice curtsied and bowed her head into hands that were brought up to it. That must be painful as her right palm that was badly burned was lying on the back of her left hand. Her head was bent so her eyes would have been pointing at the floor if they weren’t lying on top of the back of her right hand. She stayed like that, stooped and not complaining over the burned skin. I was wondering if I was supposed to do that, but none of the other girls had when getting detentions issued. No one spoke so I stayed standing at attention like the rest.

“Be off with you Miss Walker.” Misses White finally said and Beatrice started climbing the stairs. “Miss Swanson after Parade Calling is finished, release the hold on the entrances and complete the orientation of the new student that Miss Walker failed to take care of. Everyone else I want all of you carry on as though nothing occurred.”

“Let me fix your bling for you as we are the only two here that can touch it.” The headmistress said holding out her hand to me. I’d forgot I was holding the jewelry in my hand and I numbly handed it over. Was I supposed to curtsey? Going on the principle that there was a delta between how one behaved when getting a detention verses a punishment I kept standing straight, and no one seemed to look like I was doing something wrong. Looks like I’d guessed right.

I didn’t catch the mumbled words, Misses White spoke. I did see a glow spread over my lower abdomen and finally the pain was removed. When she stepped back from me and turned toward Rachel I glanced down and saw that though my naval and lower blouse were a bloody mess I didn’t see torn skin as I had before. The three chains were once more dangling beneath the sapphire stone. Hopefully after I clean away the gore my naval will be completely healed.

“Miss Swanson, I recommend you show her the Seagull dorm she is assigned to, and the bathroom so she can get a shower and change. Then show her the laundry room so she can get her uniform fixed and cleaned for school tomorrow. Make sure every girl knows that touching other peoples jewelry can often lead to burned fingers.” Misses White then turned toward me and was scowling at me with pure anger. “If any boy gets that badly burned from your bling I will expel you. Hold out your hand." I did wondering if she was going to burn it as I had burned Beatrice's. Instead she dropped four buttons in it. "After you've washed your uniform and dried it, you'll need to sew those buttons back on.

"Oh, and one more thing. I don’t care how you behaved at your prior school, but here at Belmare Moor, you fall in with your form at attention, unless told otherwise, during a Parade Calling. You are not Miss Swanson’s senior. I am only not sanctioning you, as your guide, Miss Walker, failed to fall in. You, at least stood up, even if your deportment was no better than a groveling hag’s.”

“As you were ladies.” The headmistress looked over everyone and then swept back into her office.

* Bloody Mary is a card game where the loser is the one left with the Queen of Spades. The loser then cuts the deck and all other players use the deck of cards to hit the loser's knuckles the number of times on the cut deck.

Having assigned detentions, sanctioned the fifth year prefect and threatened Tegan with expulsion after she'd been at the school for barely an hour. Ma White sweeps back off into her office leaving Tegan with hundreds of questions and several punished girls that might want a pound of Tegan's flesh.

Rachel said a phrase that included mention to unbind all locks and seals. She then turned to me. “Miss Lesley, are you willing to let me show you the location of the Seagull dormitory and floor bathroom?”

“I would like that Miss Swanson.” I mean I know they told me to be rude, but I had an upper sixth year just defer in whether I planned to allow her to do what the headmistress had recommended she should do. The headmistress had been polite to Rachel too.

Then please follow me, Miss Lesley.” She turned and after mumbling something about scour and expunge the spilled lives’ flow. The bloody mess covering the stairs seemed to vanish as we passed by. Rachel continued to climb the stairs. I followed but got distracted at the mid flight landing by how much higher the view from the window was when stood on the landing verses when stood lower or looking up at it from outside the manor house. I could see the whole stackyard and surrounding buildings and seemed to be looking down from about twenty or more feet up, not the ten or less feet of height I’d actually climbed.

The stackyard was a walled in cobble stone courtyard contained by two carriage houses and the stables on the far north side and the east and west wings, that were classrooms. “Come on Miss Lesley, three more half flights to go.” Rachel chivied me to stop looking through the flimsy net that covered the glass window.

Four half flights climbed had us arriving on the main landing of the second floor, a narrow staircase continued to the gables where the first and second year girls’ attic dormitories were located. Also, apparently the punishment rooms for those girls that were being ‘Sanctioned’ which would now be where Beatrice was located. Would she be alright not being healed? What was the whole deal of being allowed to return to the hallowed, and queen’s champion about to?

“This is the bathroom for third through fifth year girls.” Beatrice opened a door to the left of the stairs we had just come up and I found six sinks with mirrors running down the left-hand side then five cubicles with loos before a bubbled glass window with pale pink curtains. Running back on the other side the five cubicles provided two more loos, and three showers. There were then two bath alcoves with the old iron footed bath tubs, each alcove opposite three wash basin sinks.

“The two front dorms are for the third years. The dorms have a staircase in the middle of them that is a fire-escape if the main stairs are blocked. In one flight they open into the tennis pavilion. Obviously, they can only be used during emergencies.” She looked at me as if she thought I would be using one as soon as her back was turned. “That door is the fifth year prefect’s bathroom. The Triumvirate also use it. I will not be happy if I must step in to fix any power play is the only warning I’m giving. That, and I’m not impressed with your act downstairs.”

Rachel glared at me, waiting on me to say something. Did she expect me to say it was now my private bathroom or something? “There’s an external fire-escape outside the fourth years ‘Fame’ dorm. And those two rooms are for two of the matrons. Lastly here is your dorm.” It would be on the rear of the second floor like the prefect’s bathroom, and Fame dorm.

Rachel finally gave up on waiting me to say something and continued. “After you’ve finished getting changed, knock on my room’s door. It is one flight below you and will be the second corridor on your right after you come down the main staircase. It’s the third door on the left of that corridor. I will then show you the laundry room and the dining hall.”

“Thanks, I will be with you quickly.”

“Make your bed, first as with having detention after dinner you won’t have time to do that before lights out.” Rachel countered then promptly left me on the landing. I decided to use the regular floor bathroom. I’d looked in the prefect’s bathroom and seen it had one large bath, two showers and loos and four wash basins. There were also four medicine cabinets beside each sink. It looked like it was setup perfectly for four girls. Assuming ‘Triumvirate’ meant three girls then I guess Rachel is expecting some war over which four girls use this bathroom. Well I aimed to disappoint her.

Having finished dressing myself in the way too girly outfit my Grandma had provided me I looked around the dorm. There were four bunk beds alternating with four windows overlooking the sixth-form terrace on one side, and four more bunk beds with four dressers on the interior of the dorm. Under each window was a dresser. Due to the mirrors only the four top bunks had an unobstructed view out the window and as all four were available, I chose one of the top bunks that was in a corner. It was both beside a window and also against a second wall.

In the middle of the dorm between the two rows of bunk beds in addition to several chests of drawers there were two studying tables each with eight chairs around them. Piles of blankets, duvets and sheets were stacked on the two desks and the top of the drawers. Finding my sheets, well they were Thomas’s ones before half-term, on one of the study tables. I made up the top bunk I’d chosen. One of the matrons must have unpicked the name label that was on the sheets as I found they’d been labeled, ‘Tegan A. L. Wehl’ now.

I ignored the blankets but popped one of the duvets over the top sheet and grabbed my bag from the wardrobe I’d hung it in. It now had my uniform I needed to wash inside. Time to let Rachel show me two rooms I was already familiar with. I tugged the hem of the short pale pink skirt trying to get it to cover more of my legs. I Pulled my wet hair into a ponytail to stop it clinging to the lilac crop top, and tried to brush the water spots away. I then looked at my black school shoes. They so didn’t go with my outfit. What the hell did I care about bloody matching shoes? Popping them on I forced myself to not think such stupid thoughts. They were shoes, they fit, and did their job. Nothing else was important. The pink ankle socks with a white net frill looked perfectly fine in the plain black shoes.

The floor below housed some members of staff, both lower and upper sixth, and three large dorms for the primary girls. It was these last three dorms which caused the first floor to be far noisier than the second floor had been. One little girl chasing a few others stopped as I stepped into the landing. The girl was tiny and likely only eight years old. Her large brown eyes stared with fear at me. She kept glancing at my navel piercing. I smiled in order to hopefully put her at ease. I wasn’t too keen over a young girl thinking me to be some evil witch.

A gasp from beyond had me concentrate on three of the girls she’d been chasing. They were scrambling to open a dorm door that others had ducked into. If I had to guess someone inside was holding the door closed as a prank. “You three step away from the door, I’ll find out who’s playing with the door in a moment.” It was a gut feeling, but I felt I needed to look into what they were doing. They were definitely older than the one in front of me and I wanted to work out why something had got me interested. “All of you can fall in closer for a moment.”

Well being told to ‘fall in’ must mean something different than I meant as after several intakes of breath, some from beyond the dorm door that had been cracked due to curiosity. All three stepped toward me then dropped into the curtsey Beatrice had made when sanctioned. The girl before me likely a year younger than the other three, stepped back to be behind the three and clumsily copied her ‘friends’, while mumbling about being sorry. She was shaking and tears were running down her face.

I squatted and lifted her head so we could look straight at each other. I was feeling terrible that by just standing before her, I made her terrified. She was shaking in absolute terror and tears were free running as she tried not to sniffle. “Hey, it’s okay. My names Tegan, What’s yours?”

“L… l… lou… ise, Miss Lesley. P… please don’t sanction me. I’m sorry I was running. I won’t do it again.”

“Louise, you’re not in trouble, running is good. You probably should do it outside though. Why aren’t you running outside with your friends?”

“They have…

“She’s not our friend. She’s only first form!” Interrupted one of the three girls. I turned to look at her. She was standing back up and was holding a doll in one hand. It was odd. Then I realized what was odd.She was holding the doll wrong. Instead of the way you’d hold a doll you cared about, she had it hanging face down by its neck, while her arm swung.

“Give me the doll.” I heard Louise beside be hitch a breath, making me more positive I was right in believing this doll was hers. She probably now thought the evil witch was going to curse it or something. After getting the doll from the girl, she looked at me as if she was measuring my worth. “Do you think you should be standing up?” I asked at her and swept my eyes over the other girls that were still stooped. Well the other two older girls had quickly re-dipped their heads after they’d previously been glancing toward me. The one I’d dubbed the ring leader fell back into the curtsey and finally looked unsure. “Louise is this doll yours?”

“Yes, Miss Lesley. Please don’t hurt Rebecca.”

“I won’t hurt Rebecca, and I have always liked the name Rebecca.”

“Did you call your doll, Rebecca too?”

Well there was a question I never thought I’d be asked. “Louise stand up and here is Rebecca. She’s been missing you.”

“Thanks, Miss Lesley.”

“Why don’t you go to your dorm while I talk to these three.” I waited while the door to her dorm closed.

“Now you three. You will not steal from children younger than you or I will sanction you. I know there are other kids that were in on this bullying and if they were unable to hear clearly through the cracked dorm door, you will tell them I have zero tolerance on bullies.”

“Why do you care? She’s your enemy’s younger sister, and you bullied too. So, like you will punish and even sanction us for bullying, but you can bully.”

“I didn’t say you could talk.” I said trying to nip this in the bud. Did the school think Beatrice was my enemy? Sure I could see a bit of a similarity between Louise and Beatrice, now I thought about it. Their eyes were a different colour, but so were mine to my sisters. I laughed realizing they still were a different colour to my sisters as that was one of the few things unchanged. Thanks to the peddler I looked less like my sister even though my body had become more feminine.

The laugh seemed to have finally put ‘her leadership’ firmly into the realm of fear. I guess crazy works against crazy. “I have no enemies at Belmare Moor regardless of what erroneous rumors you might have heard. However, I’ll tell you a sure fire way to become my enemy. See I despise and loathe bullies. I will destroy them. Is that clear enough or are you so dumb that I have put your nose in shit like training a puppy to not shit inside.”

“What… what about what you did to Miss Myles?” I guess she still felt she could talk back. She sounded fairly unsure and was no longer confident though. “You called her a dreg and pushed her around. Is that not bullying?”

“Myles was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I won’t be going out of my way to interact with her. If she’d stayed out of my business, none of that would have happened. I was in the middle of something important and time sensitive and she interrupted me. Actually, it was sort of like what you are doing now. Though you are far more obnoxious, and I think you can go to a punishment cell in the attic ‘till bedtime. You don’t look like missing a meal will do you any harm.”

“You can’t sanction me…

“But I can, and I think the punishment is just. Further, I accept Miss Lesley’s offer to be my defender of the little sprouts, so she has the right to issue punishments and detentions. Get going Chivers.” Rachel interrupted coming out of the second corridor I would have been heading for. “Stone and Rivers, after Miss Lesley ends her ‘Fall-in’ you will inform the primary third and fourth forms that you’re all on warning. Ensure everyone knows that you don’t pick on the younger girls, and that goes double for little Miss Walker.”

The two girls bowed back again as soon as Rachel mentioned that I had requested it of them, which wasn’t completely true. Miss Chivers, who was sullenly climbing the stairs, stopped startled and looked at me in pure fear. I waved her to carry on, and she got back to climbing again.

Rachel looked at me and when I didn’t say anything she continued. “As Miss Lesley has made a point to single out defending little Miss Walker you can see the rumors that Miss Walker and Miss Lesley are enemies are false.”

Once more she turned to me. What did Rachel want me to do? Let’s see she gave them a task to do after I ended the ‘Fall-in’. How did Ma White end her parade calling again, and did they end differently’? “As you were young… girls.” I said changing it from young ladies as it didn’t seem right to refer them that way. I was getting a bit frustrated as I picked up yet more questions.

The two girls scurried into a dorm. Rachel smiled at me and asked. “Ready to wash your uniform, Miss Lesley?”

“Yes please, Miss Swanson, and thank you.” I replied following her down to the ground floor. My thanking her had really confused her. What the hell had Rachel done, and how bad was it that I’d been made defender of the little girls. We exited into the stack yard that was starting to get busy as more kids were back and had made their beds, unpacked and got changed. The buses with most of the kids hadn’t arrived yet but would in the next five to ten minutes as dinner was barely thirty minutes away.

“You should remember to state you are starting a parade calling next time if you aren’t planning on sanctioning everyone that a request to ‘Fall-in’ means. I’m glad you want to be the little sprouts defender through your next trials.” Once more the odd look that went from an initial smirk to one that was confused and worried when I made no show of concern, and instead smiled at her. I wasn’t going to let her know she’d upset me, but I would have to find out in detention what was bad with the situation I’d got myself in. For something bad had happened. My uncaring smile though seemed to have unsettled her.

“I was observing to see what you would do. I was ready to stop you if you’d picked on Louise.” Rachel paused and stopped walking causing me to have to stop too. I could have carried on to the laundry room, but I shouldn’t know where it is and the door would be locked and I didn’t know a handy unlocking spell. “You surprised me, Miss Lesley.” Rachel finally said.

Rachel kept looking at me expecting me to say something, but I wasn’t going to put my foot in it and give away that I was clueless with what was going on. Sure I could say I did what I thought was right, but it was better to say nothing. What was that saying ‘wise men stay silent while fools speak’ well I might not be wise, but I definitely didn’t want to be thought a fool. Also though I was happy I’d helped Louise I was getting a nagging feeling I’d stepped into a trap of Rachel’s.

“I would have handled it nearly the same way. Well the week’s detention I would have given Chivers would be worse than one evening’s sanctioning, seen as the evening is almost over. Eventually you’ll have made Chivers stronger. It’s rare for a primary fourth form to get a sanctioning so being a third form and sanctioned will give her something to boast about. Well after she’s recovered anyway.” Rachel twisted the door knob while the word ‘disenthrall’ was spoken? Well not spoken. I was sure I could unlock the door if I spoke that word though. I was wool gathering over my new spell as Rachel continued to open the laundry room and turned on the lights. “So what do you say to now knowing your punishment will help Chivers?”

Being a direct question, I had to answer, but decided to say something that would make it look I had intended what Rachel said would happen. “I think all punishment should be a means to teach and improve the person.” I was also a bit peeved that she felt I would be upset that I’d made Miss outspoken-bully, stronger. I would be fine if by her being stronger she didn’t torment those that were younger than herself. Also having been given the punishment once of having to write four sides of A4 paper on the inside of a ping pong ball, I was rather annoyed over petty daft punishments that didn’t aid the one doing them. Well I guess it had developed my creativity a bit?

Rachel broke into my pondering with telling me. “You don’t have time to run a wash let alone two. So, hand wash your skirt and blouse. They need to be in a dryer before dinner as you have detention right after. You’ll need to get up early tomorrow to sew the buttons back on you blouse. Find out in your detention how to get your uniform from the dryer.” Rachel pointed to a sink and while I ran both hot and cold water into it and started on scrubbing the blood on my blouse she handed me a box of laundry detergent and a bottle of colour safe bleach. “Use this small dryer, and the laundry door will lock if you pull it closed. Turn the light off first, before you leave. Oh, and look, do you see that door across the stack yard.” She pointed at the entrance to the dining room. “The dining room’s through there, be there after the bell, or miss dinner.”

She then left me to it, closing the door after leaving. I was cleaning the skirt before I wondered if there was a spell to do this. Possibly hand washing my uniform was considered a punishment too. If it was it was a boon for me. Of course, the Headmistress would know this and so this and my ‘detentions’ with her were actually not punishment. She’d told me I was going to get detention so she could teach me the magic I should already know.

“Miss Lesley, right?” I jumped away from the laundry door I’d just shut and turned to find two girls standing behind me. “I am Miss Cooper, and this is Miss Wright.” The one I knew as Ashley carried on. They were both fifth form girls, though I hadn’t known Miss Wright’s name. I wondered if they were going to seek vengeance for what had happened to Beatrice. I jumped again as the dinner bell rang.

“Don’t worry, that’s just the dinner bell. Come you’ve not been in the dining hall yet, have you?” Ashley said hooking her arm into mine and drawing me toward the dining room. Miss Wright swung in on my other side. I suddenly wondered if she was Amanda’s older sister. Did she want payback for the six days of detention I’d caused her younger sister to get?

Due to worrying about possible hazing or worse I was already sat between the two of them at the top of the fifth form girls’ table before realizing I probably should be sat at the third forms’ table. Across from me sat Susan MacLeod, the chair Beatrice usually sat in was empty beside her.

Ashley stood and made a hand wave around the table that had fourteen girls sitting at including myself. Well counting Ashley there were fifteen of us. Just as I had heard Rachel’s unspoken word when she unlocked the laundry room door, I felt Ashley’s ‘Bridle Acoustics’ unspoken words that accompanied her gesture. I could also see a shimmering, wall? Bubble? Whichever of those or if something else, it was a couple of feet or so beyond our table and encircling it in a rounded rectangle that curved together about fifteen feet above the center of the table. Blinking I could shift my vision to not see it once more, and another set of blinks and it was there again.

“Right the Triumvirate has an announcement. Miss Lesley is a championed queen by our missing fifth year prefect. Miss Lesley has accepted the role of defender of the primary first two years. She has already sanctioned a primary third form girl that was bullying Miss Walker’s little sister, and placed two forms on warning. This shows the rumors are not true of a division in the fifth form. Mis Lesley states that she despises and loathes bullies, and that punishments should benefit the one being punished.These ideals align perfectly with the Triumvirate. Any questions?”

Well I had a whole bucket of them but didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself. It seemed Rachel had shared the information of me with this mystical Triumvirate that had informed Ashley. I’m wondering who the Triumvirate is. Also, when we can eat dinner as I’m quite hungry. That is likely a first for me, since changing. Prior to tonight I’d found myself not as interested in food as I’d been before. Perhaps the stress over what had happened caused me to loose my appetite. I nearly laughed when I realized I’d implied I was no longer stressed, when I kept becoming more stressed each time I thought I was pegged at max stress.

“Fine as there are no questions I turn it over to one of my fellow members of the Triumvirate, Miss MacLeod.” Ashley sat down and Susan stood up. “Than you Miss Cooper. I am glad to see that the fifth form is behind us, your Triumvirate, our fifth year prefect, and the new member of Belmare Moor, Miss Lesley.” As Susan looked around the table I was wondering if I needed to speak up about my name and all the other things they’d assumed wrong.

“Often a new member arriving in the senior years causes chaos and warring that is damaging to the hallowed to the point of being like a second culling. Thankfully that will not be the case this time, as you can consider the five of us a Pentumvirate all together standing as one.” I really had to stop myself laughing to that. First, wouldn’t it be a Quintumvirate? Second, if there were four girls joined in power does it get called a Rectumvirate?

However, both my Grandma and Misses White had told me to not volunteer any information and speak as little as possible so I stayed quite. I’d let her know in my detention tonight and find out how I should handle this. Now I wanted to get to my detention before anything weirder occurred, but I also wanted to eat some food. Even with my stomach now trying out for the Olympic sport of somersaults, I wanted some food. My stomach growled loudly and several of the girls laughed.

“As some of you are hungry I will wrap up without more of a to do, to allow all of you a chance to eat. I welcome the new royalty to our table. Miss Lesley, you are seated where you belong as part of the new Pentumvirate that is united behind each other. I’m Susan MacLeod of the coven Zephyr and would be honored if you called me Susan. May I address my fellow member of the Pentumvirate as Tegan?” Susan MacCleod held out her hand and I found myself shaking hands. This was followed by two more handshakes while being invited to call Miss Wright as Valerie, and Miss Cooper as Ashley.

“You’re a member of the Royal family,Miss Lesley?” Sara, sitting next to Valerie asked.

“She passed Magna Cum Laude third year trials at Gwithial Ylt.” Valerie answered before I’d been able to say no.

“How do you know that?” Rebecca asked Valerie, while Sara asked me what the school was like.

Valerie thankfully jumped in again before I’d formatted what to say. “Sara, Tegan is unable to answer you. She can only discuss the place with other alumni, so that’s Misses White and Miss Hodges whom passed seventh years trials and Misses Fitzpatrick and Dame Martin that passed third years trials like Tegan.”

Susan added. “They all often wear their alumni pendant on a necklace or bracelet. Tegan’s got hers with a navel piercing.” Of course, the other girls came around the table if on the opposite side or just pushed in closer if already on this side. All looked at my navel ring. I tried to nonchalantly pour and then sip my tea to downplay the spectacle I was in. I also grabbed a couple of scones to stave off my rumbling stomach.

“Incoming fifth and sixth year drones.” Ashley stated and then dropped the privacy bubble. Well I assumed it was a privacy bubble.

“Hi John, how was you half term?” Rebecca asked, grabbing his hand as she tried to take him with her around the table to her side. When he shrugged her arm off and continued toward me, she glared at me. Didn’t she know I wished she took the whole bloody lot of the incoming boys with her. They were all unfortunately zeroed in on me. Damn but it’s bad to feel like you’re a new piece of fresh meat.

“I’m Mark, lower sixth and according to Michael and John you’re the reason we don’t have our delectable Beatrice Walker dining with us.”

“I’m fairly sure Beatrice wouldn’t like you talking of her in such a possessive way. Now if you could return to your table I really need to eat as I’ve an important meeting with the headmistress right after dinner.” As I turned back to my scone, I was thinking of all the idiotic things to say. Only I knew it wasn’t a real detention.

“An important meeting? I heard she gave you three weeks detention with her.” Mark swung back and I had a way to fix my goof.

“Po Tay Toe, Po Tah Toe. You say detention, I say an additional chance to learn something.”

“Then what do you call your fight with Beatrice over your fiancée, her ex-boyfriend?” Michael chimed in. Since when had I been Beatrice’s boyfriend? I wondered. Let’s not even worry about being engaged to myself.

“I call it you being so wrong you’re not even in the right country let alone within the city limits of the conversation. Beatrice and I just have a few things to discuss…

“Yes, the two of them and the three of us are all together and great friends.” Susan said while indicating the three of us sat in a line. Or she could have been just pointing to first Asley then Valerie that were sat on either side of me.

“So a rumor says you were always in detention at your old school. Were you expelled?” Mark asked.

“Oh, I like bad girls. Are you naughty?” Jordan asked.

“Cute piercing, where else is your body pierced?” John asked and grabbed my arm pulling me around part way. It looked like he was going to reach for my piercing. “Don’t you fucking touch me!” I said a lot louder than I intended while shoving his arm off me and the dining hall suddenly quieted as he stumbled and fell into the fourth year girls table. It would seem I was the centre of attention for the whole bloody school. Two members of staff were heading this way too.

“Boys return to your table.” Matron Bell said. “Young lady that language is not appropriate, you’re already in enough trouble. I think it best if you head to your detention now as you must have finished dinner if you have the time to play and swear.”

With my stomach growling in anger, I topped up my cup of tea and grabbed my uneaten scone in the other hand. I made a point of taking a bite of the scone as I walked by her and toasted her with my cup of tea. I walked around the third form girls and second form boys to avoid walking near the fourth through sixth form boys. It had the added benefit of enabling me to finish my scone and grab two sandwiches off the primary first and second form girls’ table. “Hey Louise, everything good with you?” I asked while pinching the sandwiches

“Y.. yes, thank you Miss Lesley.” She still looked a bit worried about me being beside her.

I scooted down so I was eye-level to her and smiled. “Hey I’m Tegan to you, remember.”

Finally a big smile was on her face. “Thanks Tegan.”

I noticed Matron Bell heading toward me. “Louise, could you open the door for me. My hands are kind of full.” Louise giggled and ran to open it. I walked quickly to leave before the Matron decided to take my sandwiches back.

“Bye Tegan.” Looks like Louise was finally confident and not worried to be around me. “Farewell Louise.” I offered to solidify I was protecting her. It was my fault her big sister wasn’t there to protect her and it looked like I’d caused her to become a target. The rules around how witches behaved seemed to be rather cruel and nasty.

I was glad I’d been able to grab some food too. Due to the whole dinner meeting the Triumvirate had shanghaied me to, no one from the fifth form table had grabbed the trays of sandwiches for our table. I guess I was lucky someone had at least grabbed the scones before the set up was poised for trapping me. It was another thing to find out how badly I’d done when I met with the headmistress.

What a bitch the matron was, kicking me out of the dining room before we even got dinner, and making it seem like I had asked for the bloody boys to come around me. I took a breath to calm myself. It looked like I was going to have as bad a relationship with Matron Bell as Thomas had done.

I arrived at the headmistresses’ office with two thirds of my tea left to drink and one sandwich still to eat. I was going to finish them before knocking on the door, but someone doesn’t like me as Ma White exited the staff room with a cup of tea and looked askance at me. “I told you to come for detention after you finished eating dinner.”

“Some older boys bothered me and Matron Bell told me to leave for my detention.” I replied and took a bite of my sandwich.

Misses White opened the door and indicated for me to follow into her office. The door had barely closed when she turned on me. “Tegan, somehow I don’t think that is the whole story. What am I going to do with you? You should have a clean slate with Matron Bell. She doesn’t know you were Thomas.” She sighs as if the whole debacle was my fault. “We’d planned a perfect method to sanction Beatrice and make her your defender after she attacks you. You just had to somehow beat her up instead. Weakening her too much especially when it’s found out you’re only a third year, and leaving the Triumvirate far too powerful.”

“You wanted me to get me into a fight and loose!” I angrily shot back.

“Look that’s not important. It didn’t happen…

“No, I think it is very important. From what I’ve seen so far witches are not playing with the same rules and I need information before I make the next goof. Instead of plotting how to manipulate the students by treating me as a blinkered horse staked out for the wolves, tell me what you expect them to do, due to how you need me to act. Allow me to improvise.”

“I will, but I had only one way forward to weaken those who would align against you after you lost gaining an assumed strong defender. Magic is based on three, five and thirteen. They are strong numbers where four is the weakest. Please tell me that before Matron Bell kicked you out of dinner that the Triumvirate has been weakened. The solid three weakened to four, after you have successfully been included in the Quadumvirate?”

With questions rising faster than answers can be found my own headmistress has asked me to skive the first five lesons of the day.

Ashley carried on to the day’s first lesson for fifth formers unknowing that my excuse had been decided in my prior evening’s detention. Determined to not rethink on that now I raced back to the dorm, but not as I’d said to get my forgotten assignments. It had been easy to say I’d been given some evaluating assignments to be turned in before my first class. I just didn’t say the evaluating assignments were going to be held after lunch when the third through fifth year girls had tennis during the last three periods on Wednesdays. Coach Davis needed to evaluate my tennis skills before I could participate, and playing hooky ensured that was my first class.

By skipping the mornings five class periods I added another day while the girls assumed I was in the fifth form. That was the reason for the latest ploy, with Ma White holding the release of Beatrice from her sanctioning ‘till lunch time there would be no one bothering me in the dorm room, except for the twenty-minute break between the third and fourth class periods. Thus, I had nearly four hours uninterrupted to study magic. I set my alarm for ten fifty-eight and started reading and practicing my hexing. That way I could hide before the break when some girls might swing back to the dorm.

Hexes seemed the most useful with the frequency I seemed to get into conflicts. Though there were numerous flashy hexes for the next fight I got myself in, I was intrigued with the more subtle and insidious ones. There was a hex that caused the hemoglobin to not be interested in carbon dioxide until an extremely high concentration of the molecules build up. Another that caused every cone and rod on both retinas to fire rapidly for several seconds. A third would cause random movement of the fluid within the semi-circular canals.

When my alarm interrupted me, I was nearly a quarter of my way through my third-year hex book. True I had jumped quickly to that book, but hexes were one of the areas of magic I was talented in due to my primary pillar. I’d gleaned enough from skimming the first two years books especially as I’d started on them before breakfast. So far, I’d managed to augment my one primed illusion spell and one minor tripping hex to now include two primed hexes that each could be used multiple times, and three more that like my illusion could only be used once a day. I’d also got a handful of general purpose easy spells that like my minor tripping hex seemed to be able to be cast whenever I desired to cast them.

Finally, as I felt under armed last night with only one minor tripping hex, and even now with some moderate level offensive hex spells available for a day, I had been glad to get an illusion charm to obscure something already partially hidden to be ignored. It allowed me to wear the weapons I’d received from Ma White last night as long as I wore my school blazer or a similar shaped jacket.

Misses White had told me I couldn’t wear it ‘till I got the spell down so that had been my first task since the wee hours this morning. I was far happier when I took the harness from where it was hidden in my suitcase and popped it on. Especially as until I could no longer cast the multiple cast hexes, I wouldn’t know how many times I could cast them and when I could re-prime them. The three new single cast a day hex spells, I only knew after I cast them and discovered I wouldn’t be able to redo so ‘till tomorrow.

Putting all my magic books away into my rucksack, I slung it over my shoulder and exited Seagull. A quick walk to the next-door Fire Escape Two and I entered one of the third-year girls’ dormitories as the end of third period’s bell rang. Ignoring the room, I made quickly for the fire escape giving the dorm its name. It was a regular door in a column of wall in the centre of the dormitory. Obviously magic provided a flight of stairs instead of the closet it appeared to be.

Taking one of my thirteen throwing knives from the veiled harness beneath my blazer I made a small cut on the end of my thumb. Annoyingly due to my new shorter Tegan body I had to stretch on tip toes to reach the point of the door and door frame that was about three inches below the top of the door and allow some of my blood on both. I allowed a bit more blood to mark the door and door frame that was five inches from the bottom edge next.

I stepped back to ensure I was a good three foot from the door to not mess up and attach the spell to the wrong same blood then spoke. “Lives flow adjacent paired be, and adjacent even, if parted be. Disenthrall.”

As I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, I opened the previously locked fire escape door without tripping the alarms that ensured the door was not opened. I then quickly entered the staircase and closed the door behind me. “Enthrall.” I relocked the door. Of course, it would take until my blood was mostly coagulated for the spell bypassing the door alarm sensors to end. Also, until I cleaned it off it could be possible for someone to notice what I’d done. Hopefully four small smudges of blood would not be noticed by someone quickly changing books or clothing out. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Rachel being satisfied that she hadn’t been wrong in her initial belief I’d be breaking school rules. Somehow my defense that the headmistress told me to do it likely wouldn’t be believed. Especially as I’m sure said headmistress would not corroborate my story.

Wiping the blade on the cloth I carried to do just that, I returned it to its home and as informed my small nick in my thumb healed as if never cut. The few drops of blood that had bled onto my blouse cuff though remained. It looks like I would be soaking blood off my blouse again this evening. It seems I packed too many of my uniforms in my not yet arrived trunk. I then held my breath as I heard the door of the dorm open.

I quietly slipped down the stairs wondering how someone could have got to the dormitories so quickly. I should have had a bit more time. Would they see the blood? I’d planned to clean it off when I returned this way after the break ended. Would they open the door and see me on the staircase? With heart pounding I descended while internally counting the thirteen steps constantly expecting the door above me to be swung open. Thankfully I reached the bottom and it hadn’t been opened.

I opened the door and exited onto the sheltered porch of the tennis pavilion allowing the door to close behind me. Walking to the centre where the tennis pavilions entrance door was, I noticed the door I had used merge back into the wooden siding that hides it from casual notice. The centre door was locked but a spoken word easily took care of that and I entered the pavilion.

Wicker hampers were stacked against the wall of the ten foot by six-foot-deep room. I had thought there was a table and chair I could have studied at in here but I either was mistaken in thinking they were in here or they’d been moved out since I had previously seen them. I wasted a good few minutes confirming that the place wouldn’t work to study in. Dropping my bag between a couple of hampers I let myself out and locked the door. I had over ten minutes to kill before returning to the dorm to study during periods four and five before lunch.

I entered the forest on one of the paths that wound into the woods from the tennis courts. I thought some students might decide to lie out on the south facing sundial lawn to soak up some sun and could then notice me if I stayed on the tennis courts. The woods offered a better place to hide. What I hadn’t thought about was that smokers and amorous couples would choose the woods as a good place to visit.

My luck held as in trying to avoid three boys smoking, I nearly tripped over Myles and Williams that had chosen to lie inside the cleared ground beneath over hanging tree limbs. One moment I am pushing a branch that trails to the ground to the side of a foot path, as I know there is a hollowed-out space that I can use to get through the fifteen feet to another forest path and avoid the three smoking boys I had heard and thankfully not been seen by yet. They were talking and goofing about but also heading toward me in fits and spurts on the path I was on.

Next, as I quietly crossed the area of the woods that due to the tree has limited underbrush and plants while looking behind me to ensure the three boys didn’t see the tree limb swing back over where I’d entered, I am just brought aware of what’s in front of me by a female moan prior to my foot making contact with the back of Williams’ shoulder. Unfortunately, my sudden stop caused some noise as with a startled ‘eep’ Sharon was rolling to her feet and straightening her uniform. That led to attracting the three smokers to barrel in to the now overly filled space.

“Wow Williams, well done.” Lewis made to offer a high-five then settled to pat him on his shoulder I’d nearly kicked. I glared at them upon realizing what Lewis had implied and found that Sharon agreed with my feelings as she glared too.

“Michael was just with me, his girlfriend, Lewis. I don’t share.” Sharon responded. “So, if the lot of you could go back to destroying your lungs, Michael and I would appreciate clean air.” She also looked toward me nervously, so I figured that most of that was a bluff.

Figuring and hoping she would likely move out of my way after our last confrontation, I decided to just carry on as I had intended. Hopefully the amorous couple would distract the smokers long enough for me to get into a different area of the forest. Having decided I walked toward Sharon and I as I expected she shrank back from me. Unfortunately, Williams and Young chose to step between me and my exit. The first was likely to defend his girl, and the second for reasons I could guess.

“Excuse me, I am just leaving.” I smiled at the boys. It worked on removing only one of my obstacles though.

“Hey new lass, there’s a toll. For a girl as beautiful as you, I’m willing to accept a kiss as payment.”

Wielding a blade before thinking it through I counter offered. “You could get out of my way before I castrate you. Choice is yours and I’ve not used this blade recently, so I’m hoping you’re too dumb to move.”

Young leapt to the side quickly. “What the fuck! Psycho!”

Well they would be distracted and allow me to make an exit. However, I could already hear the telling off for displaying the knife. But, it would be so worth it. Well I could deny pulling a knife on him. The veil hid them from view while in the harness and I was fairly sure I wouldn’t be patted down.

Unfortunately, my imagination saw pulling out a blade as a possible short term solution with huge long term issues and what if Mister Young chose to escalate, could I cut him. Back in reality I had a leering boy to get by. He stood left arm encroaching while right hand hung loosely at his side with his half smoked fag between thumb and fore finger.

Twisting my right side away I swung my left arm and snagged the cigarette. Quickly I switched it to the right hand and then attacked him with his fag instead of my earlier choice of a blade. I also swung it toward his face rather than my earlier thought target.

“Back off chimney breathe!” I thrust my right hand forward while palming a blade within my left. No one should notice it and hopefully I wouldn’t need to use it, but this seemed wiser to have a hidden back up. One I could deny even if I had to use, while I drew all attention on the cigarette that the boys wouldn’t want to inform any one about.

Young took a step to the side and the whole group looked on. “Hey that’s my smoke.”

“Think it’s hers now Young.” Lewis countered.

“So, Young what are you going to do?” Johnson just had to egg him on as I was nearly backed to the other exit from the tree. He also seemed to decide to move toward me. Throwing my minor tripping hex at Johnson caused him to stumble into Williams.

“Here, have your fag back.” I threw the cigarette slightly behind Young, and thankfully he stopped his new approach toward me to recover the fag as quickly as possible. Rubbing the side to ensure nothing from the ground was on it. I twisted out and begun running away on the next forest trail.

Once I was sure I wasn’t being followed I slowed down and slipped the blade back. Hell I hoped I wasn’t going to get tagged with ‘Runner’ or something similar as a nickname. I was beginning to set a pattern for running. The reminder of my break was thankfully nowhere near as exiting. I wasted a few minutes of fourth period as I didn’t want to head back to the tennis pavilion until I was sure there was no one to block my passage.

My next problem was I couldn’t work out how to open the secret door in the wall of the pavilion. Thinking back on the prior evening’s detention I realized I had assumed the return to the dormitory while the headmistress must have assumed I would stay in the pavilion studying for these two periods. So either this was a one way door, or I had not been given the means to open, which either way meant I needed to return to the manor house the old fashioned way.

I climbed the gentler trail along the right side of sundial lawn. If I’d chosen the left side of the lawn I'd have had better tree coverage, then after a dozen or so steps I would quickly get to a passageway that allowed access to the west side of the stack yard. However, it would have needed me to pass several classroom windows, where someone might query why I wasn’t in class. Going to the right meant I would only have one class, and the headmistress office to sneak past. Oh and hopefully not be noticed by any sixth formers that had a free period as I walked on the sixth form terrace behind the headmistress office.

Usually the sixth formers like to sit along the three quarters of the terrace that runs behind the library, one of the girls’ common rooms, dining hall and kitchen. The odds were thus slightly in my favor of getting to the rear door of the manor house with only the headmistress seeing me. Adjusting my backpack so the strap wasn’t twisting my bra strap I carried on my next rule breaking exercise. Also looking up at the terrace from sundial lawn I didn’t see any sixth formers currently sitting on any of the five benches.

I gave a jaunty wave to the scowling headmistress stood in her office with phone to her ear, as I quickly ran by. Leaping up the steps and through the door I was in the hallway outside the music rooms and headmistress’ office from yesterday evening with no students the wiser that I’d been on the sixth form terrace. Not waiting to see if Ma White had words of wisdom to share with me when her phone conversation ended I carried on running to, and then up the stairs. One detour to wipe four dried marks of blood clean and I was back in Seagull with almost none the wiser.

“I see you took my bed.” Beatrice stated. What the hell was she doing here? I was still reeling that my marks of blood had already been removed from the other doorway. Could they identify me by the blood? Was I in trouble for using the fire-escape?

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked on auto-pilot while panicking.

“What you didn’t want me released to the hallowed yet. When would you’ve felt I had been punished enough, this evening, tomorrow before fifth period bell, this weekend?”

I stepped back. Okay yes I shouldn’t be surprised at her vitriol, but I was. The thought, ‘she shouldn’t be here’ kept running in my head like a stuck record and I was having a hard time working out what to say.

“Oh, young lady I thought I would have got your attention, but was on the phone and you must have flown up the stairs.” Misses White was in the newly opened doorway and I needed to warn her that someone knew I’d used the fire-escape exit.

“Misses White, the four stains I wanted to clean, already were by someone else.” I hoped she would understand what I was trying to tell her.

“Ah, that’s why you did this. I should have told you last evening that I would remove those, so no one would ever see them. I’m fairly sure I took care of them the very minute after they were used.” She looked at me ‘till I worked out that she was the person I’d thought nearly caught me, and she obviously had expected me to stay until lunch inside the tennis pavilion. “Now Miss Walker you need to make your bed. You also need to thank this one for protecting your little sister from bullies. Louise has such high praise for your queen. I am sure I can count on you to be the best queen’s champion. Good day girls.”

“Oh, and both change into your tennis uniform. I’ll take your uniform to the laundry room as I’m going by there. That will enable it to be washed for tomorrow, as I don’t think your trunk with more uniforms arrives ‘till Friday.” Well at least Beatrice was taking her clothes off too. I would have been feeling extremely odd if I was undressing alone in front of the two of them.

The downside other than the tennis skirt being shorter, was I had to put my blade harness back in my suitcase. I did get to see Beatrice in her underwear though.

I felt a right nana in a tight white t-shirt that emphasized my breasts, pleated tennis skirt, bloomers, ankle socks and girly tennis shoes. At least my bloomers were plain. Beatrice’s were a pair with ruffles that drew attention to them more than a flashing neon sign would do. Well perhaps not quite that much, but way more than mine.

Unfortunately the headmistress then left with my skirt and blouse leaving the two of us in Seagull alone, in our tennis attire. She stared at me and I just stared back. Time ticked by.

Beatrice sighed and then started making her bed. She was making the last unmade bed, which was the bed below mine. I returned my suitcase beneath our bunk bed and then sat on a chair. In order to not ogle the cute girl in a mini bending over to make her bed I thought back over last night detention. Had I missed the headmistress telling me to stay and study in the pavilion?

I couldn’t believe it. I had arrived for this evening’s detention and find out I was set up to get in a fight with Beatrice. My Grandma and headmistress knowing I knew little magic felt the best solution was to get me beaten up and then ridicule my attacker as she was three years my senior. How much ridicule would carry through when it was obvious that Beatrice assumed we were the same age? It was the logical assumption from the information released.

I angrily demanded to be given information so I could improvise when their plans went off the rails as they were bound to do.

The headmistress responded. “I will, but I had only one way forward to weaken those who would align against you after you lost gaining a strong defender. Magic is based on three, five and thirteen. They are strong numbers where four is the weakest. Please tell me that before Matron Bell kicked you out of dinner that the Triumvirate has been weakened. The solid three weakened to four, after you have successfully been included in the Quadumvirate?”

“Susan proposed a Pentumvirate, The original three, myself and Beatrice.” I offered.

“Why would Miss MacLeod think you would agree to that? You have shown complete contempt for Miss Walker and set her up to lose badly, then spat in her eye at being a prefect. That makes no sense. She couldn’t risk you refusing as it would lead fifth form into immediate infighting that could only undermine her position of power.”

“What’s a defender?” I asked breaking into Misses White’s musing.

“It is a trick to use on a powerful witch. If a witch is threatened by an overly powerful witch then it is a way to remove them as a problem. The new defender are stuck having to fight and protect the witch they are a defender for until their next trial, which for Beatrice is over three years away. Her seventh year trials are the year after upper sixth year workers’ exams. No one could have challenged or attacked you during that time giving you time to become a queen. What your grandma and I were worried over, was you becoming a witch at fourteen means you were under the hallowed halls rules.”

Well I figured I would hold off a few minutes on informing Ma White that I apparently had to fight on behalf of all primary first and second formers until nearly Christmas. I was more intrigued about the hallowed halls being mentioned again. “What are the hallowed halls?”

“Okay Miss Wehl, first you need to stop judging our society as a worker. It is wrong to hold us by worker laws and rules. You are not a worker, you are a witch, and normally you would have been raised as one. Unfortunately, you had a minor birth defect that made us think you were a drone.” Ma White took a breath to ensure I was still with her. “Witches thrive on conflict. Our magic leaps forward when our lives are on the line. The hallowed halls are our arena, where all queens can challenge other queens up to two years younger and larva other larva, with the same two years age difference. They are the halls and rooms within this school where no worker or drone can follow.”

I slowly sank into one of the office chairs while wondering if every answer would constantly create more questions. Also with the whole warning to not judge by 'workers' laws and rules I'd been expecting something more sinister. Then again the headmistress hadn't said what a challenge entailed though. I think the headmistress noticed that I was a step away from losing it as she sat too and told me a tale. It was a tale of a different world than the one I knew.

In the witch’s world normal humans were known as workers. Workers were born from workers, but also sadly from witches too. Drones were the sons, nephews, grandsons, grand nephews, or great-grandsons of witches. Witches that hadn’t passed third year trials were pupa ‘till ten and then larva ‘till they passed the trial and became a queen. Just like an insect hive, the hallowed halls were geared to ensure the survival of the strongest. I’d not as I thought just turned from boy to almost girl. I’d turned from drone to pupa at the age I couldn’t benefit any protection of being a pupa. The hallowed halls would be just like a hive where a queen was late in emerging from their cell. All queens before they fought first stung every cell that the pupa had not escaped from.The analogy fell a bit apart with the way witches named their young pupa and the pre-queens larva at this point to me.

Thus the plan to get me a defender before I could fight to save myself had been born. When I won, the headmistress scrambled to make Beatrice my champion. It didn’t defend me against all threats and even those it did I was left wondering if they could be diminished at the start of next winter term. From what I could piece together at the first time after January that I’m challenged to defend one of the little sprouts I will need to inform the hallowed that I took third year trials the prior winter solstice and thus was no longer defender. When that comes out the cat will be amongst the pigeons.

I couldn’t be worried about that lost defending and what could happen once the truth of when I sat my trials got out as I was more worried at the confirmation that death was what greeted the losers of the third year culling. Being told it hardly ever happened in later fights including even the seventh year trials, did not provide the comfort my headmistress thought it would. I was too worried how I needed to learn enough to see next year. Sighing, I knew I needed to own up to being named a defender and see if my worries were correct, or if there was even worse to worry about.

“Well, in addition to bluffing my way from getting called into fights that I can’t substitute my champion to fight for me, I’m defender of the little sprouts.” I told the headmistress. I took a sip of my now cold tea as my mouth was as dry as ash. I figured I needed to let my headmistress know that I had more problems than she was aware of.

“How can that have happened?”

“It happened because you and Grandma didn’t provide me enough information to know what I was supposed to be doing. Your upper sixth year prefect obviously chose to remove a wrongly perceived threat of a too powerful queen by assigning me defender of the little sprouts when I stopped Beatrice’s little sister from being bullied.”

“She made you defender of all little sprouts. Not defender of Miss Walker?” The headmistress inquired.

“She said I was her defender of the little sprouts, but later she said that as I had chosen to specifically defend little Miss Walker it proved I didn’t count Miss Walker as my enemy, and Ashley made a point of calling me little Miss Walker’s defender. I don’t want to assume it isn’t both just because I didn’t understand something.”

“…And thus the reason for the Pentumvirate. We can recover this though as they think they have you snookered ‘till your seventh year trials. Oh, and yes, Miss Swanson was clever to firstly make you defender of the little sprouts, and then Miss Walker specifically as a precedent. She thought you would have to defend Miss Walker for more than five years. Further, every year there are more little sprouts to possibly need to defend.

Ma White ensured I understood what she was saying before continuing with the real kicker. “Within three years there could be a conflict between two previous little sprouts you had defended that are now lava and allowed to fight. You would fail your charge of defending one ‘till your next trial. By the loophole of defending them years earlier causing said little sprout to then be named specifically, as the case of little Miss Walker allowed.”

“So I am totally screwed.”

“Language Miss Wehl’s and no you are not, as none of your little sprouts will be lava before the end of your term of office, this year’s winter solstice. However, being one of the fifth year leaders, you will be the clear winner if Beatrice accepts the Pentumvirate before it’s found out that you’re in the third form.”

The headmistress did confirm that I had to declare when I took my trial only when I wanted to state I was no longer their defender. So unless something odd occurs it wouldn’t come to light ‘till my fifth year or beyond when I would have had at least twenty seven months to learn magic. I couldn’t defend them though after my trials, and then try to not defend them later. So if something happened next January I would have to allow it to get out that I’d messed with the system after having only seven months to learn magic.

Ma White was not understanding in how I worried about the winter solstice trials in which I might die. She was more concerned about protecting me from the additional conflicts caused by me waking to magic nearly too late to learn. To hear her, the conflict of me having to be in the top five percent will either allow my magic to grow fast enough to protect me, or not, if I wasn’t worth the magic. I guess it’s a convenient outlook on life without guilt. All the young girls that died weren’t worth their gift in magic, so no harm, no foul. Every time I tried to point this convenient logic, I was merely reminded that I wouldn’t think that if I’d been raised a witch from birth.

“Fine we can agree to disagree on that. Teach me about magic, as I am going to need it to survive.” I cut in after the last stalling conversation continued rehashing the same circular reasoning on what a witch should just accept.

“Fine," Ma White chewed back I think to point out how unthankful I sounded for all she had done to keep me alive. "The first thing to know about witchcraft is that it needs balance. The numbers three, five, and thirteen are the base that magic’s pattern is woven to. The five foundations and the five pillars are the warp. Each pillar has an area of order, chaos and balance. Those are the three twills. The witch’s magic is the weft weaving between the warp, twill and the wylds.” Misses White began.

I tried to interrupt, but the headmistress carried on after pointing me to a look at the floor. She swung her hand and said. “Disenthrall penumbra.” The floor’s mosaic shifted to show the pentacle once more.

“Magic is broken up into twenty subject areas.” She pointed to the twenty words that followed the inside circumference of the outer circle.“Five are wyld subjects rooted directly in a foundation, devoid of pillar and thus each is woven on a balance twill.” She cast a spell and the foundation ‘Course’ at just beyond the two-thirty position glowed blue along with the line that ran like a radian to the glowing word ‘Tempest’.

“The other fifteen are three groups for each of the five pillars. Your primary pillar is Decay, which is about change.” The Tuscan pillar at six o’clock was now glowing green. “Chaotic decay comes from hexes.” A green radian line ran from the ‘Decay’ pillar to the closer to seven side of the six o’clock position. Straight to the word ‘Hex’. “While ordered decay is transformative magic, and balanced decay is twisted truth.” At each point a green radian shot from the same decay pillar first to the slightly five side of six o’clock, then one straight to the six o’clock to the glowing magic subject words of ‘Chrysalis’ and ‘Gab’ respectively.

“Tempest spells will be your hardest to learn. It is the area you are most weak in magic. However, these three subjects in green along with the wyld subject of golems will be the easiest for you to learn.” Another green radian shot from the ‘Wood’ element above the top point of the pentacle to the twelve o’clock position and the word ‘Golem’ between ‘Demonology’ and Necromancy’ now glowed green too.

“My primary pillar is the ‘Illusion’ pillar.” The Egyptian pillar at three-twenty glowed red. A red radian shot to about the three o’clock position and the word ‘Divination’ glowed red. It was adjacent to ‘Tempest’ in the wheel of magic subjects. “The order twill of Illusion is the magic subject Divination, while the balance twill is the subject ‘Veils’ that I use to hide this pentacle. Lastly chaotic illusion is ‘Realm’ magic. It provides the ability to cross universes.”

“Parallel Universes exist? We can explore other worlds?” I interrupted.

“You already are. Belmare Moor School is not on your earth or in this universe’s equivalent of your milky way.”

~o~O~o~

~o~O~o~

Wanting to do something, but not take out a magic book with Beatrice in the dorm making her bed. I looked over at my locked suitcase and tried to unlock it silently from where I was sat without getting up from my chair. I don’t know how many frustrated minutes had gone by, but Beatrice had finished making her bed and was sullenly lying on it, when I wondered how would I know if I’d unlocked it already.

So I got up and tried to open it and found I could. Did that mean I had successfully silent cast the unlocking spell, or that I hadn’t locked it earlier? Needing a reason for opening the case I grabbed a book at random. It was one of the advanced Hex books that Ma White provided, and after closing the case I tried to silently lock it. On my third cast I saw the lock turn, and on checking it, confirmed it was locked. On my first silent unlocking attempt I saw the lock turn again and could open the case. I had just tripled the number of spells I could cast silently.

Feeling Beatrice’s eyes on me I closed and silently relocked my case and returned to the study desk to get a bit further away from her. As I went to move the chair, I realized I still had the hex book in my hand. Well I had wanted to study, and otherwise it would look odd that I got it from my case. Also it was supposed to have an illusion preventing others from reading which would make them assume it was beyond their ability. The worrying question was would it actually be beyond my ability.

Thankfully, I found out that what I had learned so far, was adequate foundation as though it was definitely more complex, I didn’t think every page was in a different language or worse a blank page without words, as a book close to or beyond the reader’s magic would appear. Hopefully, courtesy of the weekly illusion Ma White cast on all my books that would be how this book would look to Beatrice.

I actually managed to gain another spell. It was one that could hex five different targets with no visible indication. It was primed, but I wasn’t going to cast it with someone watching. I would also need to cast it over and over until I could do so silently, as it really would be far more useful that way.

“Why did Ma White not want us in class?” I was broken from my concentration, and unable to slip back into my book. “I was initially so angry with you coming to see me return, and to find you had taken my bed.”

Beatrice knocked my book while sitting down in the chair beside me. “But you didn’t know it was my bed. You didn’t know I was going to be released today, and Ma White hadn’t expected you to be here.”

“I think Ma White knows exactly where all her students are.” I deflected.

“Nope, she got distracted by a phone call and you got back to the dorm too soon. She arrives and disrupts me from my attack. Not just by reminding me I am your champion, but throwing out some cock and bull about my sister liking you, and you protecting her.”

“I like your sister, and I hope she likes me.” I offered to hopefully confuse her.

“You deliberately went out of your way to bate me in to attacking you. You easily win, but throw the prefect position back in my face. Ma White lets you get away with the power play with a ton of detentions with her, not any of the usual teachers detentions are assigned with. She over punishes me, and makes me your champion. She tells us to get ready for tennis.” Beatrice slams my book closed. “What is happening in the fifth form class that she doesn’t want me to know?”

I reopen the book to the page I was on, as I don’t want this conversation to carry on. I try to ignore her and start trying to learn from the book once more. It is hard to study difficult material at the best of times. Trying to do so while a powerful witch that could hex you into an apple and then eat you, and is currently staring at you in rage of absolute chaotic emotions with zero control, is impossible.

“There’s a quadumvirate. You and the triumvirate control the fifth form and I’m the lame duck prefect with no power. I will destroy you! Four is a weak base to build your power on. All of the upper and lower sixth will support me, and you’ll be surprised how many of the fifth form will follow me. I bet I can get most of the fourth form too.”

“Well it’s good we are planning on using five as the base then.” I throw out before returning to my studying. It seems that has given her pause as she is silent for nearly ten minutes. Then she is busily listing fifth form girls and why they couldn’t be chosen over her.

“It wouldn’t work. There is no other fifth former that Miss MacLeod would allow to be in her power group.” Beatrice finally said. If she expected me to respond she was going to be disappointed.

“Are you going to tell me?” Beatrice asked. I looked at her shook my head and returned to my book. I had to give her credit as she interrupted her own frustrated growl and calmed herself. “You will not get me to attack,‘my queen’. You nearly got me, but I will not fall now I know how good you are, at pissing people off.” The venom that laced naming me her queen was dripping off the words.

I was thankful she had thought such an erroneous idea. I was trying to not answer her and learn magic. I definitely wasn’t ready for her to start attacking me. I didn’t intend to piss her off either, but needs must when the devil drives. We both got startled as the fifth period’s bell rang. Wow fourth period had been short.

“I know my sister would not like you. She knows we fought, and my losing makes her unprotected. Many witches would choose this time to hurt her. Thankfully, they can’t do much more than taunting as she is only eight.” Finally Beatrice was silent having run out of things to say and noticing I wasn’t paying her any attention.

“How did you protect my sister? I don’t think you even know who my sister is.”

“I know Louise, and aside her eyes’ colour, she looks fairly similar to you. Do you know her favorite doll is called Rebecca?”

“Fine, you know my sister.” She glared at me. It looks like I’d wound her up good and proper. “When did you meet her?”

“Come on Beatrice, obviously last night and this morning. I’ve talked to her a few times. Oh, and also last’s night dinner and this morning’s breakfast. We had a nice chat.”

“Lesley, my name's Walker, to you!”

“You can use either of my names, Lesley, Allana or Tegan, Beatrice. I don’t mind.” I countered.

Beatrice’s blue eyes came more alive the angrier she got. I’d managed to annoy her quite a bit. “This is all to distract me. Your lie over the pentumvirate is a delaying tactic. I will connect back with my allies in the fifth form and other years…

“Beatrice, I really would like to read this.” I interrupted the prefect. While she sat back seething,but at least I finally got back to studying. It was nearly ten minutes before she threw her next threat.

“As soon as I have completed my seventh-year trials, I am going to completely destroy you. Enjoy having a champion, while you can, my Queen.” She growled out and then rummaged around in her bookbag and grabbed her own book on hexes. She sat down right next to me and started her own studying. Thankfully I knew that before she has taken her seventh year trials she would have discovered she was more than three years my senior and thus, could not attack me, until I took my own seventh year trials. So, my abject fear could be dialed to a low enough setting that I could act unconcerned. With her mainly looking at her own book I could finally actually study.

It had been eye opening, but logical to discover that witches with birthdays after the winter solstice often were placed back a year. It was done to delay six months on taking the third-year trials. They wouldn’t take them in the prior summer if they were in their second year. It had the added benefit of taking the tests before expected. Beatrice’s birthday was in March, and so while she was two and half years older than Thomas, she was over three years older than Tegan and thus, unable to attack me once my true age, and Tegan’s birthday gets out.

We both glanced at each other’s books while studying. Most of the time when I glanced at her book it showed me foreign text or a blank page. So she was likely studying something way beyond my level. I went back to my own book. Occasionally I had to flip a few pages to get to ones I could read. I found a page full of legible text so I dived in and was lost to the advanced theory for immeasurable time.

“I don’t believe you can read that book.” Beatrice suddenly shot out. I looked over and saw her with her book open for once on a page I could see a smattering of words on. However, I decided to go back to reading mine and pretend I hadn’t heard her. “I knew it! I couldn’t believe that your book showed me nothing but blank pages on your every turn. True, you skipped some to make it look realistic that it was a book you were learning from, but I couldn’t read a single word. You can’t be that much better than me. Say you are better than me at hex magic. I bet you can’t say it.”

“Beatrice you’ve known me for less than a day, how can you know what I do and do not know?”

“I saw you glance at my current page and go back to pretending to read yours. I don’t think you can read either book.”

I glanced over at her book and was about to just choose a few random words, but part of what I read reminded me of something I’d read in my own book a bit earlier and I found myself drawn to work out why. It is a strange feeling when you know you’re on the threshold of working something out, and I grabbed Beatrice’s book to get it closer to me. I don’t know how long I was reading but I had a new hex castable with two words. Well one was a fairly long word. More of the page was available to read so I proceeded to start on learning the next hex, but Beatrice had decided enough was enough, and pulled the book from me.

“You had me fooled for a moment there, but the games up. To you it was a completely blank page…

“Actually, I just learnt from your text book a hex to stop your heart, and was working on learning one to cause arrythmia. Would you like me to bisect your heart with a single hex?” I countered, while cutting her off. I wanted to get her book back as I knew I could learn that hex. Most of what I’d found legible in my book was just theory, and a hex being available was like a gold nugget needing to be mined to strengthen me.

Beatrice scoffed at my riposte and replied. “I notice it’s convenient as no one is going to allow you to cast that hex at them and thus not provable.”

“Can’t you see any words on the page to know it is dealing with hexing the heart?” Then seeing something from the corner of my eye I crossed to one of the windows and opened it.

“Well sure, but to learn a spell in less than five minutes is ridiculous. You haven’t even practiced casting it and want me to believe you can go straight from theory to mastery without any practice.”

I was only half listening as I was looking to see another of what I’d seen before. Finally seeing one I not quite yelled. “Schism Myocardiocytes!” While looking at and miming slicing with my arm the dove flying over sundial lawn. The dove fell below the edge of sixth form terrace, presumably to the sundial lawn.

Beatrice didn’t look impressed, when I turned after closing the window. “I can silent cast a stunning spell while pretending to cast a spell too.” I couldn’t really use the argument that I couldn’t, to fight her downgrading of what I was so chuffed to have done. Heck, I hadn’t learned a stunning spell to vocally cast yet.

“Fine let’s head to the tennis pavilion and come back up across the lawn and you can try to wake the dove back up.” I replied and after grabbing a blade from my suitcase headed back to the fire-escape. I initially hadn’t been thinking, but then decided it might actually be a good way for us to bond. It would be a thing of legends. From enemy to friend by choosing to deliberately break the rules together. It was how I planned to sell it to the headmistress if she ever found out, anyway.

Beatrice followed and said nothing. She watched me placing blood on the door and doorframe and stepped back when I did. I managed to keep from spilling blood on my clothes this time, and cast the unlocking spell silently after speaking the rhyme for bypassing the alarm. She followed me through the opened door and quietly followed me down the stairs. I don’t think she thought it odd I checked the door was locked after that silent cast I made to re-lock it. She watched the fire-escape door turn back into the pavilion wall, and started to try to work out how to get the door back. I jumped down off the sheltered porch and crossed the two lawn tennis courts that were closest to the pavilion. The hard clay courts and last lawn court were beyond me to the left as I exited the gate in the mesh fence to the path along the bottom of sundial lawn.

I kept walking up sundial lawn trying to go to where I guessed the dove would have fallen. I heard Beatrice running behind to catch up. Once she had followed me in my hunt for a while, and just a bit before she was obviously getting ready to say something, I finally found the dove. It was closer to the wall than I had expected, and the pale brown plumage camouflaged well on the light brown stones of the path that bordered the top of the lawn along the bottom of the retaining wall of the sixth form terrace it had ended up falling on.

“You’ve been to this school before. You must spend your holidays here. You’re related to the headmistress.” Were the words Beatrice chose to wield at me having been proven wrong in me hitting the dove with a spell.

“Your bird. Aren’t you going to confirm I didn’t stun it?” I asked to avoid what she had said. I wasn’t supposed to let on that I was familiar with the school. I guess knowing how to bypass the alarms didn’t lend itself to being a new student and even admitting the headmistress clued me in on how to beat them left a different set of questions to answer. I ignored Beatrice just stepping away from the dove.

Beatrice eventually started casting spells at the bird. After the first one where I learned how to wake something up, I had no clue what she was casting. “The heart is split in two.” She finally mumbled looking at me with a bit of awe and fear.

“Willing to accept now that I can just learn a spell.” I asked glad to be vindicated.

“You probably already knew the spell…

I felt like banging my head against the retaining wall, better yet banging Beatrice’s head against the retaining wall. “Beatrice, even if that was the case. It proves I could read your book doesn’t it?” I turned and headed back toward the right of the lawn and the steps needed to get back to the level of the manor house.

“Where are you going?” Beatrice asked jogging back up to me again.

“Back to the dorm. I was studying. Before this…” I floundered a bit on being unsure what to describe this as.

“Why not go back up the fire-escape?”

“It’s one way.” I answered as if I was sure for all the world it was. I’m a firm believer in never admitting to being unsure of something.

“This is the sixth form terrace…

“You told me that the other day. I’m of the opinion, what the sixth form doesn’t know, won’t kill them. Unless it does, in which case, it was a moot point regardless.” I was in a rather flippant mood. Until she had told me the dove’s heart was split in two, I’d been wondering what we would find. That included if the dove would even be there.

Prior to Beatrice questioning my ability to go from theory to casting a spell with no practice, I’d had no doubt that this was how magic was learnt. It was why I’d more or less shouted the spell. I wanted to make damn sure it worked first time, as all my earlier hexes had. Now doubt had been added as a variable in learning to cast spells. I could have done without it.

Misses White threw her hands up in the air as she watched the two of us cross behind her office. I waved, and Beatrice just got a gob smacked expression. She was still bemused as I went into the third-year girls’ dorm first and cleaned my blood stains up before returning to our Seagull dorm.

I didn’t get any more studying time though; as the lunch bell rang when I gave up getting her book and sat down to study my own book. Beatrice had refused to let me look at her book. I was this close to learning the arrhythmia hex. For some reason, my offering her that explanation caused her to be more adamant to not let me read it. Further, saying I needed it for just a couple of minutes, caused her to blood lock it away in one of her drawers.

I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess the reason the girls split sports between the first two years on Monday and Friday afternoons and the older members of high school on Wednesdays was due to the culling, and whatever caused the larger drop in sixth form girls’ attendance verses the number of returning boys. Thomas a third-year boy didn’t have sports on Wednesday afternoons. In the summer he played cricket with the first and second formers on Monday and Friday.

However, in the boys’ forms this made sense as with lower sixth and fifth repeat added together being about half the size of fifth form, and upper sixth about half again. You had two and three quarters of a form in one group and three forms worth of boys in the other. Whereas amongst the girls, firstly there was no fifth repeat, and secondly most of the lower and upper sixth hadn’t shown up to play tennis. The fact the number of sixth form girls was drastically lower than sixth form boys just marginalized the fraction even further. Add in the culling causing fourth and fifth form both being half the size of the other three, and you got two forms worth of girls in each of the groups they were split into, to play tennis.

Thus I could be mistaken for a fifth former while going to my correct third form class. Something which wouldn’t have been possible if I was still a boy. I then told myself it wouldn’t have been necessary if I’d managed to remain a boy.

I ran and swung my racket backhand and launched another tennis ball well over Coach Davis and into the mesh net fence that surrounded the six hard clay tennis courts. When I say this I make it sound that this was as bad as I’d done before.

This was actually not as bad. More often than not when I’d been doing forehand swings the ball went over the about twelve-foot-high net fence. It sounds even worse when I admit there was a second tennis court behind the coach before that net fence too.

I was zero for about thirty if you included both of my backhand and forehand efforts. Thankfully she hadn’t had me show my serve yet, as I don’t have one. Hopefully my evaluation of volleys would be better. I ran once more and over corrected limiting the power in my backhand swing so the ball didn’t clear the first low net it was supposed to go over. It seems I could clear two tennis court nets or none. My competitor just needed to play on the next court and I might be able to hit the ball a second time before I lose a point.

“No, No, No! Get off my court!” I ran to the side where the rest of the pentumvirate stood. Beatrice had accepted when she was hi-jacked at lunch. Can you say de-ja-vu? Her lunch press-ganging mimicked my dinner drafting in all, but food offered and the boy and matron distractions. Oh, and Beatrice didn’t get kicked out before eating too.

“At long last, something you’re terrible at, Tegan.” Beatrice offered as I came to stand beside her. She’d actually surprised the other girls calling me Tegan when they returned to the dorm and found us appearing to apparently be, best friends.

I decided to be mature and stuck my tongue out at her.“Hey, I’ve never played tennis before.” I added to aid in not seeming childish.

“What sport did you play?” Susan asked.

“Cricket, silly mid-off or first slip…” I sort of stalled my answer as I realized what I’d said, and the incredulous looks I was getting. “I was a tomboy, I couldn’t believe Ma White when she said they won’t let me play cricket.”

“Was! I think not only that ‘was’ is the wrong tense, but that you’re the biggest tomboy I’ve ever met. You’re not even wearing any make-up.” Susan rounded on me.

“… and yet she still looks that pretty!” Ashley said. “With a little effort you could turn the head of any boy.”

“What the fuck! No, thank, you!” I retorted angrily.

“You know, if you wore an engagement ring…

“Why the hell would I do that.” I interrupted Valerie. Could this conversation get any worse? Thankfully, Coach Davis cleared her throat and we fell back into line.

“You know what, why don’t the five of you take court seven. You can play doubles with the better duo handicapped with the vulgar one. Perhaps you could teach her tennis and how a young lady is supposed to act. Either one works for me.” Coach Davis told the five of us before moving on to team up some other girls.

“I don’t think she likes me.” I suggested after making sure the coach was well out of earshot.

“You!” Susan exclaimed. “We’re the ones that got saddled with you!”

“Yep, I wonder what we ever did to her.” Beatrice opined. Then quickly got away from my half-swung racket at her arse.

Two hours later and I had a weak second serve that almost anyone could return. However, at least it was mostly in play. I had a forehand and forehand volley that both nearly beat a coin toss in the odds of staying in play. I had next to no backhand worth mentioning except its volley that surprised me in how nearly good it was, and over five hundred bruises, grazes and scrapes. My tennis uniform had long left the colour white behind it. Who the hell decided that tennis would be played wearing this colour?

I’d also discovered that court seven was the ugly step child of the tennis courts. It was on its own with woods on three sides of it to steal the tennis balls that I could easily lob over the twelve or so foot nets. My argument that there were holes in the net fell on deaf ears, as apparently none of my shots were low enough to go through the holes in the old net. I saw two go through the holes but the other four refused to agree with me. And yes I know a net has holes. That was the first tease I’d got for saying it, but some of the holes are bigger than a tennis ball because the old tatty nets strung over tottering poles need to be replaced with new fine mesh fence nets on vertical posts like the other courts have. Heck even the metal mesh fence of courts eight and nine would be a huge upgrade.

There were a nice set of six hard courts in two rows of three that the coach mainly spent her time coaching the privileged players on.Two lawn courts numbered eight and nine, over beside the pavilion, and then ‘court seven’. For all it was supposedly a lawn court, either it got fed up of me crashing into it and decided to hit back like it was made of rock, or my tenderized flesh, after getting bruises on top of bruises became over sensitive to the lawn and caused the later hits to hurt so hard.

“So, Tegan, I think you were beginning to get the hang of it at the end.” Beatrice offered way too kindly as the summary of my last two hours.

“Are you sure she was playing tennis?” Susan offered.

“Hell you should know. That was what you were supposed to teach me.” I riposted.

“I actually asked them to aid in making you a lady or teach you tennis.” Coach Davis was suddenly beside me. Where the heck did she arrive from? “Well your tennis racket is still strung, and in one piece, and your diction is... Well let’s not expect miracles.” She opined.

Hmmph! “Do you think a lady would be dressed as I am?” I countered the coach as I was not going to let it go, that they had succeeded making me a lady.

Ashley decided to throw in her ‘tuppence’. “A lady would know when she needed to get changed.”

Turning on Ashley I replied. “I think anyone would know that how I’m currently attired, is not acceptable.”

“Well considering what they had to work with, I will allow them getting you halfway to a lady and halfway to learning tennis.” Coach Davis said and waltzed off before I could reply to that… that… slander. I stood with mouth slightly opened gob-smacked.

She was way beyond earshot before I finally yelled after her. “I’ll never be halfway to a fucking lady!” Then what I’d said hit me, and I looked at my four new 'friends' to see they’d hopefully not been listening and paying attention. Judging by the looks on their faces I was going to have to count myself zero for four on that hope.

“How do you half fuck?” Beatrice inquired.

Susan couldn’t leave it alone. “I thought it was tennis we were supposed to be teaching her.”

“We didn’t have hay.” Valerie said causing all of us to look at her incredulously.

“What!” Ashley shrieked for all of our benefit.

“How to half fuck,” was Valerie’s eloquent reply.

I couldn’t help it. Valerie was always so quiet prim and proper and yet she said ‘fuck’ as if it was a perfectly acceptable and polite word to say. There was none of the obvious glee kids put in to emphasis saying a bad word. “What do half fucking and hay have to do with each other?” I asked, because even though it was likely a step into the train wreck, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Well duh, they don’t, thus half fucking.” Valerie looked around at the four of us looking at her like she was mad. “Your tennis uniform is coated in grass stains and there is no hay. If you’d been rolling in the hay you would have been fucking. Ergo rolling without hay, half fucking.”

Valerie just looked at us, and I’m sure the other three were waiting for her to laugh. Ashley lost it first, but Beatrice and I were right behind her laughing too, and then I discovered Susan laughed like a drain pipe when she lost it. That is when she loses control; the laugh competes with the needed intake of the next breath. Causing a raspy suction of attempted in taken air, while the lungs are violently contracting.

That noise caused us to laugh even more; ‘till we all probably sounded that death by laughter could be in the cards. Valerie was laughing but the four of us were likely questioning if she was laughing because we were, or because of saying an odd joke without seeming to be trying to be funny.

“Hey Beatrice,” I called after getting a bit of control over my laughing. “Did you know I’ve been half fucked?”

“No Tegan, you are definitely, completely fucked.” Beatrice replied. Well thank you! I was thinking of counting you as a friend too.

Ashley chimed in. “Not until we find some hay.”

The question Tegan now ponders is 'Can there be a love triangle when one of the two people thinks there are three people involved?' Further, just how more can her life get complicated since drinking at the wrong pub, the peddler, Marie-Anne and unfortunately her/himself have caused her to be too far gone from his previous days as Thomas.

Beatrice and I got in the showers Valerie and Ashley had vacated. Susan was still laid out in repose in the prefect bathroom’s single tub. Having the hot water pounding on my skin offered it some relief from the earlier abuse. I popped a dollop of the shampoo Melissa’s Mum had demanded I used and wondered if there really would be a difference if I just used any shampoo when I finished this bottle.

“I’m actually surprised.” Beatrice’s voice wafted over the shower partition separating us. “I was expecting some off-brand shampoo.” Well even though I don’t know how she could see my shampoo bottle, she was almost definitely talking about me. I decided to not justify it with a response though. Ashley swung open my curtain which nearly had me having kittens.

“She doesn’t have any conditioner though.” Ashley offered. I tugged the curtain closed after turning to hide both my illusionary and real female assets, and the veiled others too, just in case the illusion fell.

“I have conditioner, but the bottle’s half the size so I only use it every other time I wash my hair.” I said to cover the embarrassment of having someone peer in the cubicle while I showered. A boy doing that would get a bad name. Was this normal amongst girls?

“I think it is hopeless, we can’t fix her.” Valerie stated.

Susan’s voice carried over both Beatrice and my cubicle partitions. “It will be hard work and require all four of us to put in one hundred ten percent commitment…

“One fifty.” Asley countered.

“She is worth it.” Valerie offered.

“Well when we finish, she will be.” Beatrice countered.

I wondered if I’d even get used to the bathroom bantering and if it wasn’t going to be always just me that was being ‘attacked’ or ‘helped’. The words were interchangeable dependent on my generosity. “Guys, not just no, but hell no.” I finally spoke having been able to get my head to the side of the spray once I’d got the suds out of my eyes.

“Methinks she doth protest too much.” Was Valerie’s insightful reply.

“Methinks I know many really lethal hexes.” I said while refusing to use the pronoun to make it sound closer to the actual quote and did I really want to talk in third person.

“Wow, Tegan knows how to half kill too.” Ashley stated.

“Not what I said.” I sang from the shower. “I know how to kill, and overkill. I failed learning how to partially kill.”

“Now that might just be the most truthful thing, we’ve heard Tegan say.” Beatrice interjected.

“Hey Ashley, take my conditioner and make sure Tegan uses it.” Susan said. I quickly grabbed the curtain to stop Ashley opening it again. After her initial pull failed to work I saw her shadow moving to the other side so I dropped the soap to hold that side too.

“Did you drop something?” I was flummoxed when Ashley’s head ducked in after she popped up the bottom of the curtain. “Soap! Let me save you.” I was too astounded to realize that standing holding one edge of the curtain to the cubicle wall on the right while my other arm was stretched to the left cubicle wall that I was completely on display, except thankfully for my daily veil spell. But that which mimicked Anne-Marie’s was being blatantly ogled. “Oh, I like how you groom your kitty.” Ashley had no shame in informing me.

“What!” Letting go of the curtain I cringed in the back of the cubicle, placing one arm high and the other low across my body. Ashley grabbed the soap and ducked out of my shower stall. “I’m throwing this in the bin before it does any more damage to your skin.” I wondered if I had shared the floor’s bathroom or gone to the locker room showers with the sixty plus other girls, it would have been better or worse. “You will thank me later. Oh, and here’s Susan’s conditioner. You use half what you use as shampoo. That’s why the bottle is half the size.” She opened the original side as I wasn’t holding it shut any longer.

Having finished my shower, I dried myself and wrapped my towel as best I could around all of me. I then exited to find the other three siting on stools in front of the mirror, and Susan still in the bath. “Thanks for your conditioner.” I placed said bottle on the tile mount. I was just about to open the door when Valerie twisted around on her seat and stopped me.

“Ah, ah, ahh. Tegan get you butt sat on the stool beside me right now.” The other two ignored me, carrying on drying their hair. A brush in one hand and hair-dryer in the other. “You are not, like this morning, going to dash out and dress with wet hair. I’ve finished mine and will show you how to take care of yours.” The only reason I didn’t carry on obliviously was I was worried about the possible ‘runner’ nickname.

Initially she told me what to do and kept criticizing me. After a while she grabbed both weapons from me and kept telling me to pay attention as she took care of my hair. When she was done, I had my straight off blond with blond highlights running smooth and straight down my back. Normally when I let it dry, I would have a slight frizz of strands with some curl. What Valerie had done was nicer, but I didn’t think it was worth the near half hour of effort. The hair fell almost straight except for being curled in at the bottom. Ashley and Beatrice had finished their own hair half way through the Valerie inflicted torture on mine and escaped the bathroom.

“Now sit still while I do your make-up…

“Hell no!” I quickly escaped the bathroom, and I didn’t run no matter what anyone else says. I walked really quickly after swiftly ducking passed Valerie’s attempt to stop me, and before Susan could get out of the bath to provide aid.

This morning was a rude wake-up call for me. I’d woken early. Likely due to the fear of my illusion spell dropping, even though it should be good for nearly four more hours. I guess having had it drummed in to recast it every morning, and the fact yesterday’s recast was done with still around fourteen hours of illusion left from the prior first-time cast, got me anxious.

The early morning sun was piercing the flimsy pink net curtains and Beatrice and I were the only ones spared having the thin line of sun shone across our heads amongst the eight of us sleeping beside the windows. Valerie had both turned to face Ashley and curled down the bed to avoid the narrow ray of sun. Ashley had pulled the covers and a pillow corner to stop the light waking her. In the fourth top bunk Susan was a lump of quilt so I was unsure which way she was facing.

Figuring I might as well get up I quietly flicked the quilt off me. Being forced to acknowledge I wore a thin nighty with knickers; versus the pajamas I used to wear was a rude wake-up call. There was an odd dichotomy of feeling the last physical part of Thomas trapped in knickers that didn’t show as the bulge it was, which was my actual wake-up call to get out of bed.

Then there was the annoyance of having to lower more of my body before finally stepping on the bar of lower bunk frame to get used to. Now I was a few inches shorter, I probably would need to get into the habit of climbing up and down at the bottom of the bed with the additional cross bars that the other girls use. No, I decided I would carry on pulling and lowering myself the harder way at the side just so I didn’t have to accept another thing lost, thanks to drinking at the Red Lion pub.

Stepping onto the cold linoleum, I quickly found my slippers. There was another thing I wouldn’t do that the other girls did. Sleeping in woolen socks, it just seemed far too odd. I tried not think I would revisit this when winter and snow came to the Yorkshire Moors, nor acknowledge I got my slippers on quicker than I used to. I also will deny that I was now thankful for the girly style slippers, my Grandma bought in Debenhams for my two sizes smaller feet. The new slippers had thicker fluffy fur inside them than the boy’s ones that no longer fit.

Grabbing my plain black washbag, one of the few things I succeeded in stopping my Grandma from changing to floral or worse pink, I headed for the bathroom. In the first toilet cubicle after locking the door I dropped the illusion and took care of the need that awoke me. I was just shaking it when I was startled into realizing I wasn’t alone in the bathroom as I had assumed. The noise of the cubicle door next to mine being opened and locked woke me to worry.

“Damn girl you really must have needed to go.” Beatrice called from the stall beside mine. Then I heard her going. It sounded really loud, making me wonder how much louder mine must sound, and I’d not thought about it. Thankfully she’d been close enough and hadn’t been bent over to notice my feet the opposite way a girl’s would have been. I really should sit to do it, as I could not assume another girl would not show up as Beatrice obviously had done. If it had been Ashley I could imagine her peering over or under the cubicle walls. “Oh, shit! Can you hand me some bog paper? No one replaced this one.”

I quickly pulled about thirty squares worth so she wouldn’t ask for more and passed it under the cubicle. “I only needed a square or two. Well I guess the rest can be in here ‘till the roll gets changed.” I took a breath to calm myself then flushed my loo and then recast my illusion and escaped the stall. I got to the sink I’d left my washbag at and realized thanks to Ashley throwing my soap away the other day I had none to wash my hands and face.

I was frowning when Beatrice joined me. “Wow, just being pestered in the loo messes you up for the whole day, huh?”

“No, Ashley threw my soap away yesterday and I won’t have any ‘till Friday as I forgot to put a request in for a new bar yesterday.” I said to explain why I was currently frowning. True my earlier fright of being caught with the illusion down was part of my frown, but I wasn’t going to say that.

“Here use this. I don’t mind sharing and will list a selection of the creams and lotions you need to take care of your skin. You are a lady now and can’t use soap. It really is bad for the skin. If you think your family won’t send them, we can work out something.” I had so many things to complain about that spiel I was lost on how to start.

With plug in the sink I ran the too hot and too cold water then splashed the warm water on my face and rubbed the sleeping dust from the corner of my eyes.

“Tegan, you really are stubborn. Here stop!” I turned in surprise to her sudden yell and got Beatrice’s hand rubbing some bumpy cream into my face. Glancing in the mirror I saw dots like seeds in the crème. Beatrice was also really close, and it felt nice having her hands on my face massaging my skin and looking at me so concentrated. “Woah stop those funny ideas Tegan. I like boys. I’m flattered, but uninterested.” She continued finishing rubbing my face and neck. “Now rinse that off and I have a crème for around your eyes and eyelids.”

As soon as I rinsed off my face, I quickly denied my interest in Beatrice, only to be interrupted. First to close my eyes lightly. The ‘lightly’ was added when I closed them apparently too tightly. The Second interruption was for a crème without bumps to be brushed across the lids and around the eyes teasingly by her fingers. Lastly, she shot down my denial saying it was completely obvious I was interested in her.

“Don’t panic Tegan, I won’t tell, though the others will work it out. Clarissa is your best bet in our year, she is most likely at least bi curious. Who knows what Ashley is, but I think a relationship with her would be just tiring.” My blushed attempt to deny being ready for a relationship with anyone was once more ignored. Then of course I found things could always get way worse.

“Tegan, I am interested in what’s going on with Thomas, and would allow him as my husband to breed you as many times as needed, if it’s your Grandma that is the one forcing the engagement…

I found you can choke on air if certain comments are made. Thankfully after I recovered and before Beatrice made another attempt at sharing Thomas, Susan arrived, and I ran from the bathroom having seen an escape through the opened door. If I was two people, then one of me could get a pretty cushy deal. The problem is I was more Tegan than Thomas and Tegan’s side of the deal sucked.

I threw my clothes on and grabbed my shoes and dived out of the dorm. “Tegan, stop running away!” I ducked around Beatrice and ran down the stairs I was sure she wouldn’t follow in her nightclothes. “Tegan, you left your washbag and towel in the bathroom! Tegan!” I didn’t look up the stairwell that the last Tegan had been shouted down but continued into the library and found a chair to put my shoes on.

I then made my way through two of the girls’ common rooms to the stackyard and on to the dining room.

Of course, breakfast wasn’t ready seen as the wake-up bell had only just rung, but the kitchen was empty and therefore there was no one to tell me off as I filled the kettle and placed it onto the hotplate’s I’d uncovered from the aga oven top. Getting a plate and utensils from where they were stored, I opened one of the walk-in fridges and grabbed one of the breakfast prepared butter dishes and an opened jar of marmalade off a shelf. I then popped a tea bag in a mug and cut a thick wedge crust off a new loaf of bread taken from the stack of them in another warmer walk-in using the bread slicer after turning it on. While my wedge toasted in the aga I took the now boiling kettle off its hotplate and made my tea.

Kettle onto trivet, hotplate re-covered, check the wedge was toasted. It needed another couple of minutes, so I adjusting the slicer to a thinner cut and sliced the rest of the loaf ready for breakfast. Then turned the slicer back off and brushed the crumbs into one of the bins. Next with my grabbed plate I rescued my wedge from the oven. Using a knife to dollop two squares of butter to melt onto my wedge I then used a spoon for some of the school made marmalade. Good English marmalade with thick orange and lemon rind chunks and minimal sugar as the ripe oranges provide most of the needed sweetness to the tart and tangy bitter spread. Wakes you up faster than a cup of coffee.

I’d just dropped knife and spoon into a sink when matron Bell arrived. “Morning matron, there’s fresh boil in the kettle and one of the loaves is sliced for you.” I ducked out of the kitchen, having confused the matron, before she could tell me off. Now where to eat my breakfast without interruption before classes?

I chose the assembly hall. It was one of the converted farm barns. A third of it was a raised stage that our emptied trunks were stored beneath. I sat on the stage in my school skirt with my legs dangling. Alone and able to enjoy my thick crust of toast and piping hot black tea. While I enjoyed my breakfast the bell for actual breakfast rang.

After finishing my toast and tea I got onto the stage and left my mug on the headmistress’s podium. It would get to the kitchen for cleaning after assembly and I could avoid where I was expected to be. I then hit the ladder to the loft and through the fire-escape door on the north wall of the barn. A metal gantry is attached on the exterior side of the stackyard’s converted barns at both first and the second-floor height. I was currently at the higher height. I used the gantry to pass a couple of classrooms and three storage rooms before using one of the sets of stairs to get back down the two flights to ground level. Using the passageway between the row of barns and the stables, I re-entered the stackyard and came back to the manor house front entry.

I found my wash bag and towel had been returned to the dorm and placed on the end of my bed. Reclaiming them I cleaned my teeth and then put them away in the dorm. I got my book bag ready for the three classes I had in the first five periods of Thursdays. Then of course there will be lunch and I’ll get to find how the fifth form react to a member of the pentumvirate being in third form. The silver lining it sure will distract Beatrice from her latest attempt to find out about Thomas.

I reversed my course from dorm back to the assembly barn. While I was nearly across the stack-yard I saw students leaving the dining room so quickly finished crossing it to get to the passageway to be on the far side of the barns before I was noticed. Then up to the second gantry walkway into the loft and down the ladder to the assembly hall’s stage. I decided I had time to take my empty cup to the kitchens as they should be by now emptying of students. Looking and seeing no older girls leaving the dining room I crossed the stackyard and timed entry into the dining room when there was a lull of those exiting.

I’d just dropped the cup on one of near empty tables closest the door when I was interrupted. “Tegan, why are you avoiding my sister?” Louise asked in her all innocent large doe eyes and peeked curiosity way.

I’d forgotten this table was the first and second form primary girls table. “Good morning Louise, are you ready for school today.”

“Yes, are you going to answer my question.” Louise added as I had turned to go.

“I’m not avoiding your sister Louise…

“Great to hear. I see you have your book bag already though so are you going to walk me to our dorm?” Beatrice popped up from where ever she’d been hiding. “Bye Louise.” I then found my arm tugged into Beatrice’s looped arm and pulled toward the exit.

“Why don’t I wait for you in the assembly seen as I’m ready?” I extricated myself and made my bid for freedom.

“Do you even know where fifth form line up?” Beatrice countered. “You may as well come back to the dorm as we do have something to discuss.” It appeared I needed to distract and confuse her some more as she was determined to getting back to working out one thing. On the one hand I didn’t like that Thomas was only considered for his value on providing magical children, but on the other if I was still me then I’d have a drop dead gorgeous girl pursuing me.

“I know where the assembly hall meets and I can work out where to stand as others arrive.”

“Tegan, I’m unsure if you realize as you act like it’s no big deal, but you do know that you’ve been set-up to fail being made Defender of both first and second primary form girls?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m taking trials before I am forced to defend two who are old enough to fight. Their protected as pupa ‘till high school.” Glad to be on a different conversation I tried to let her know there was nothing to worry about.

“Oh, so you do understand that Miss Swanson set precedent by making you Louise’s specific defender?” I nodded. “It isn’t being her defender that is your problem, it is the fact your defender includes the year above too in general. People will find ways to make you a specific defender of as many of the second form girls as they can before year end.”

I suddenly realized that I couldn’t let Beatrice know this wasn’t a concern, especially until after this summer’s third year trials were completed. I needed those six more months to study. While I was wondering what to say I got blindsided once more.

“I’m prepared to help, Tegan. We can discuss in class, but just think. If we were sister wives then I could aid in when there were two you must defend, getting into a need to fight. It would buy you the needed year ‘till seventh year trials. Effectively give those you must specifically defend an extra year as pupa, and all it costs is you allowing me to be Thomas’s primary wife. Hell, being together would give you a chance to prove to me that there is value in me considering alternative types of relationships…

Reeling away I made a good distance of escape before calling back. “Look it’s not the problem you think. Good luck with class. I’m not in yours as I’m not in the fifth form.”

Beatrice’s initial surprise turned into panic and fear which I wasn’t expecting her reaction to morph into. She quickly crossed to me and almost hissed “Ma White and you are guilty. As by both placing you in Seagull and having me provide the unneeded familiarizing tour of the school is grounds for me assuming you weren’t sixth form. If you try to get me in trouble for unauthorized access on sixth form terrace I have rights to think you were breaking the same rule. Also you bypassed the alarm on fire-escape. Even as a sixth former you will be in trouble for that.”

Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.

Geoff finished packing the last box of his personal effects from his old work office. It had been quite a run, and extremely strange how he had ended up with this career. However, it was the end of this chapter in his life. Time to let go, even if he had not planned to. It was a fair deal, but he was being pushed out. The writing had been on the wall when Blaylon’s Medical had been purchased by their biggest competitor, and unlike the layoffs and the kept employees, he was one of the few that got an early retirement. For the next seven years he would get thirty-five percent of his current salary with full medical, to not take a job in a similar field. With the house paid off, and little expenses he could get by without needing to use his savings. He just needed to find something to do with his sudden abundance of free time. Perhaps get out and travel while still in his forties. Take the time to decide what he planned to do next. Maybe get his Doctorate and become a University History Professor.

As to getting a job in this field, considering it was his late wife that had the degree in organic chemistry, it was unlikely for him to do so. He only had this job as he’d been his wife’s assistant on a critical project when life stole her, and their future child from him, due to a car accident. Geoff had put in the hours to complete his wife’s first major project, so there could be a success in her name. He was rewarded with the promotion his wife should have got, and the next lonely twenty odd years of his life began. To avoid grief he sunk himself into his wife’s career.

Geoff figured he was likely the only History and Drama major in the company. If he hadn’t met Kathleen in their last year of Uni he wouldn’t have ended up here. They both found they had an upper division general education class still needed if they wanted to graduate from U. C. Berkeley, so chose the only ones that met the requirement and fitted into an available slot in their schedule. Both had needed to fight their respective advisers as the chosen course was one with pre-requisites they hadn’t taken. Luckily each’s Achilles heel was the other’s strength and so they tutored each other, upon discovering they had two shared classes that term.

Geoff tutored Kathleen in a Civil War History class, while Kathleen tutored Geoff in an Organic Chemistry one. The shared time under pressure allowed their mutual attraction to blossom into a relationship. The nearly six years were Geoff’s best. They’d married even though he was unsure if he should work toward a history doctorate or keep trying to jump start an acting career. After completing his history Masters, he had instead become his wife’s assistant as her promotion gave a staff of seven beneath her, three of which being allowed to be new hires.

Placing the photo of the two of them into the last box, he gave the office one last look to check he had packed everything. “Love you, Kathleen.” Geoff whispered while stroking a finger over her hair in the photo, and recalling the trip to Carmel Beach, California, where the picture was taken at. Knowing he was running low on time he popped the lid on the box. Pushing the cart that the boxes were on he left his office that should have been his wife’s for the last time.

~o~O~o~

It was less than six months for boredom to demand he do something. Geoff had got the yard and house straightened, finished the books he’d checked out from the library, and didn’t really want to go there a third time this week. He didn’t even want to play any more MMORPG, as he had spent far too many hours on them. The current random web surfing was to find something to capture his interest and alleviate his boredom. Seeing a deal to fly from Portland to Le Guardia, New York, and moments later he had a vacation planned to head to the east coast in a couple of days for five nights. When there, he would chose the next step based on what grabbed his attention next.

Geoff was returning from a moseying trip down Broadway on his fourth day in New York in the late afternoon. This evening he would do his random web surf to find out where he was going next. On Broadway he had watched a play and two skits. He could do three sides of the square or slip up Prior Street to get back to the hotel. If it was later he would have taken the longer route but four-forty in the afternoon wasn’t a bad time to be in a narrow alley close to busy New York streets. In fact there were a fair number of people walking the street. Of course famous last words and Murphy’s Law can cause things to go bad all too easily.

Geoff had turned at the noise of something running toward him from behind. He was just registering a young just teen girl was running toward him, barely dressed, when a loud bang rang out and he was surrounded by blackness and pain. Then he couldn’t feel any pain but was extremely dizzy.

Blinking, his vision slowly focused. He staggered, trying to not fall over, and one leg seemed shorter than the other. He was extremely dizzy and momentarily he thought he saw his foot of the shorter leg in the pavement. Concentrating on his foot he saw it was correctly on the pavement not in it, as his obviously dizzy senses had misinformed him on earlier. There was a lot of blood on the pavement near his feet.

Finally snapping out of his momentary feeling of dizziness, he noted that the street had emptied of people. It was just him and the girl, stood facing each other. The sounds of sirens caused him to turn and see two police cars arriving. Turning back to the girl he forced himself to look at the blood. There were two corpses on the ground beside them. Pointless to try to do anything for them as they had both been shot in the head. Probably with hollow tip bullets Geoff decided, as both of the corpses were almost headless. Brain matter was spread out over pavement and bodies. Blood was just about everywhere.

“I’m Daphne.” The girl suddenly said.

“Geoff.” He grunted. “Let’s step away and let the police investigate what happened.” Moving to one side as the police approached. “I only heard the one shot, and didn’t see the gunman officer.” He informed the first policeman. Daphne gave him an odd look but moved over to him when he beckoned her to back away and not interfere with the cops’ jobs.

“We’ll get the area cordoned off before taking statements.” The officer told him. Obviously expecting Geoff and the girl to stay out of the way.

The second officer arrived putting gloves on. “Likely the residents will in typical New York fashion deny they were looking through their windows, or even heard anything. Yep a Jane Doe here. Doubt John Doe over their will have I.D. either, Paul.”

“Did you see who fired the shots, Daphne?” Geoff asked.

Daphne looked at Geoff oddly. “Well I bet you anything it was Ralph, but you would have had a better chance of seeing him. What with you looking the right direction, and my back would be to where Ralph would have been coming up those townhouse basement steps. Lot of good it would do us knowing though. He’ll have bailed from the apartment, but I guess I owe you an apology so if you accept knowing who did it, as an apology then I guess I’m lightly off.”

“Officers, Daphne says the gunman Ralph lives in the basement apartment of the townhouse over there.” Geoff yelled out, but aside from one cop looking at them with a serious frown before ignoring them, the cops were too busy setting up barricades and caution tape. They would probably ask him to repeat what he’d said when they were less busy and able to make note of it later.

“Geoff, they’re not about to talk to us.” Daphne said incredulously.

“Daphne you might have had bad experience with the police, but if you are respectful and calm, they will listen and offer help.” Geoff said, realizing that the young girl Daphne was likely, due to her lack of clothes in the profession that often found itself at odds with the cops. With how young she was he felt bad that she had obviously been coerced into such a profession and obviously for long enough to have a jaded outlook on life. She had likely run away from home hoping to leave a bad situation, and as the saying goes jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“Oh Mike, looks like Jane Doe ain’t a Jane. Think this Geoffrey Stillman was his John that tried to not pay on realizing the call girl were a lad, and it got them both shot for their trouble?”

“Ah, there the two of you are. Oh, you got your brains twisted together and that’s why you stayed around. I was wondering where you had both got to.” An older man in tux, top hat, and an evening jacket with tail walked up beside them. Tapping Daphne and Geoff with his walking stick to get their attention. “Come on I need to get you on, there’s a yacht needing to capsize off Nantucket. You think it can sink on its own?”

“I’m not going!” Daphne stated, while Geoff was trying to find a way of adding three and four, and not ending up with eleven.

“I’m dead? Do I get to join Kathleen?” Geoff finally found an acceptable way to take the new eleven.

“Nope, we need to get you two untwisted. What with the bullet that exploded the lad’s head entering yours next, along with most of his brain. Then of course all of that plus both yours brains punched through the rear of your skull and splattered all over the sidewalk. What a mess. Why if it weren’t for my desire to not get roped in with the two of you I’d likely be puking my guts out over all the grisly matter you two are standing in.” Geoff noticed that the older gentleman in evening wear, was actually floating a few inches off the pavement likely as he said to not stand in the grisly mess.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Daphne said.

“Well then Geoff will be stuck with you ‘till both of you as haunts fade away. Or you can be reborn identical twins, and untwist yourselves into separate entities once more.”

“After we fade away as haunts will I finally be with Kathleen?” Geoff asked.

“Nope, that way is oblivion. Once you can no longer hold your memories together you will cease to exist. You will never see Kathleen again.”

“So the only way to see Kathleen is to be reborn? Then lead on McDuff.” Geoff said.

“Not so fast Romeo. You likely will fall for another girl while you don’t recall Kathleen in your next life, and you can’t go anywhere ‘till the lad agrees too.”

“I am not a lad! I am a girl. My name is Daphne, and I will not be reborn. I am free of that horrible body. Oblivion is better than being stuck in a boy’s body once more.”

“Well Daphne, seems like you need to convince Geoff to the advantages of being a girl. So Geoff will you follow Daphne to the dark side? They allow for selling Girl Scout cookies.” Death inquired.

“If we are reborn, can I remember Kathleen? I don’t want to go through life, losing my identity and having no memory of this one.” Geoff declared.

“Did you not here me! I will not be reborn as a boy. I have no desire to recall this life. Oblivion is better!” Daphne declared adamantly.

“Fine so identical twin sisters with Geoff recovering all of his current life’s memories and identity after the passing of the first half dozen of years or so of your next life. Will you both then follow me?”

“A good life into a society that treats women fairly.” Geoff added, suddenly thinking of the numerous countries he would not want to be born a girl in.

“Well that I’ll attempt as best I can, but no guarantees. That’s as much as I can offer. Will both of you, now, finally follow, as I said before, I need to get to Nantucket to ensure the yacht sinks. Yachts need lots of help sinking; It’s the shape, trapped air….” Death mumbled on as he led the two twisted to be twins toward the opening he’d ripped through reality.

Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.

It was while looking at the two birthday cakes, each with five candles on them that Rachel felt a feeling of de ja vu, and then she was wondering where that word came from. Strangely it was a word she’d known for eons. ‘Eons’, another new old word was unearthed to confuse her. She was pulled out of her internal pondering by clapping. Looking around she saw her parents, the neighbors and a few children.

“Good girl Sally; now come on Rachel; make your wish and blow your candles out too.”

Thankfully the things, like there being two pink birthday cakes with icing flowers, that were deltas to the odd prior de ja vu feeling were able to pull Rachel out of her stalled worrying. Listening to her Mum she leaned forward, and whilst wishing for the intelligence to understand what was happening, blew out her five candles, to another round of applause. Yes, she knew her fifth birthday cake had been shaped like a rocket with bright red and blue icing trim lines on the otherwise white iced cake. The five red candles were inside five blue circle portholes that ran the length of the rocket’s body. Here the pink and yellow candles burst from the center of five of the flowers on each of the two cakes. Each cake had three yellow and two pink candles as the center of three pink and two yellow iced flowers.

Mum quickly took both cakes to the small kitchen area and cut slices onto plates. Aunt Mary helped deliver them to the children, and a moment of silence occurred as they pounced upon their food. The adults had barely started eating theirs’ when the volume in the room increased once more due to the children finishing. “Glenda can you take your sisters and their friends outside and play in the back garden.”

Aunt Marry, their neighbor, added onto the request “Kim and Anne, help Glenda in ensuring none of the children leave the back garden.”

As soon as Rachel saw the five space hoppers being brought out of their and their neighbors’ garages that stood adjacent each other at the end of the shared driveway of the two bungalows, she knew they would be holding ‘horse’ races around the apple tree. They had started doing that on her fifth birthday until they had moved from the Fareham semi-detached bungalow. They used to run the races up and down the length of the bungalows, but as her parents had got her older sister and the next-door girls to keep them in the back garden that day, a new race course was born.

She felt sad that they had sold their first house, and remembered Dad complaining later that one of the biggest mistakes he made was selling the house and moving the family into Naval housing while he was based at sea for eight months. Apparently, inflation hit while he didn’t own real estate and it took nearly seven years to have enough to afford their second house. It also took them ‘North’, closer to relatives but mainly for the cheaper real estate. Rachel held her head as she gained a headache. Was she going crazy where were these thoughts coming from? Her prior thoughts made no sense and discrepancies of near similarities were the worst to try to unravel. Why were there five space hoppers and not just three? Her sister Glenda had one as did Kim and Anne. He didn’t have a girl’s toy.

Well it wasn’t a girl’s toy really, Andy, who as a six-year-old boy wasn't at the girls' party, but had been at his fifth birthday last time, owned one. However, the three girls with naming their mounts and treating them like horses, had made Geoffrey think they were girly. He might have even said they were to his parents. There were times he wondered how much his big sister had manipulated him, or if he had just been an awkward kid. He was thankful his parents had been so good, because they got the brunt of him being difficult whether it was due to his sister’s shenanigans or his own obstreperousness.

“Glenda, don’t let any of the children go to the front of the house…

“But we always race here, and it’s the side, not the front of the house.”

“Your Mum said ensure everyone stays in the bark garden. You can make laps around the apple tree.” Dad firmly stated while herding everyone into the back garden, and closing the gate to the drive way. “You alright Rachel? You look pale.” He added seeing one of the twins had actually stayed in the back garden and only looked through the open gate. Figuring she had to be sick as she had actually followed the rules without a second enforcing he placed the back of his hand against her forehead to see if she felt hot.

“Is Daddy’s princess okay?” Mum asked noticing what her husband was doing having organized the first race around the tree. “Come inside out of the sun Rachel. Do you want something to drink?”

“Dad you mustn’t sell the house when you go onboard HMS Zulu. We lose so much money, and it takes ages to be able to buy a house again.”

“Rachel, you know you mustn’t read Daddy’s work papers.”

“Michael she’s five. She can’t have read them. Do you think Glenda might have, and then told the twins?” Mum defended Rachel from Dad’s accusation.

“I don’t actually recall bringing that paperwork from work. Do you think she heard us talking?"

“Must have, though actually I don’t think you ever said the ship’s name to me before. I would remember Zulu I think.” Mum said as she gently brought Rachel inside. “It’s rather odd for a Royal Naval ship’s name.”

“It’s actually the third RN ship* so named.”

“The first wounded?” Aunt Mary asked, as Rachel relaxed into one of the bean bags in the sun room looking out on the back garden. The four adults had chosen to enjoy their coffee in the sunroom prior to rounding the escaping children upon seeing they’d attempted to go AWOL. From here they could ensure they stayed once more inside the back yard.

“She seems pale. I hope she isn’t going to get sick.” Mum offered noticing Rachel seemed to be day dreaming, then again that was as usual.

“I thought that too, but no temperature thankfully.” Dad offered.

“Well that’s a relief.” Aunt Mary stated then returned to the interrupted conversation. “So how goes you house hunting? We will miss you and hope you’re not moving too far.”

“The two bedroom house is just too small. If we could buy next doors we would gladly stay your neighbor…

“We couldn’t afford that and why would we need two kitchens, plus the expense of joining them together to make a detached bungalow. The building permits. Also, the twins will be fine sharing a bedroom. It’s just too much to place three girls in a single tiny room, otherwise we’d stay here.” Dad quickly killed Mum’s dream idea.

“Well if we went into officer housing, we could get a four bedroom house…

Rachel tuned out what her Mum was saying as she was struggling with thinking how she could stop her parents from selling. It is not like she could say that they must own a house. Or explain knowing a huge inflation occurs over the next year that they will need several years to recover from. Years needed to recover the lost money before they were able to afford buying a house again. Why was she so sure of this happening?

It had started with the wrong cake. There being too many of them and it being pink. That was followed by the new words with recollection of knowing them for years, which jived badly seeing as she was today only five years old. The weird wrongness was next while outside. Watching Glenda, Anne and Kim bring five space hoppers while recalling that there should be three. Correctly knowing they would race around the apple tree and then it happened. So as that happened the fiasco over the house would too. Her parents and neighbors were right now discussing moving and the officer’s housing seemed the best choice.

If the memories were real then she was a boy, and Sally was Daphne. Well Daphne was her girl’s name she never said what her boy’s name was and she; Err, he hasn’t been born yet. He, er she was around twelve to fourteen when we were shot in New York and he was forty something…

“Rachel, how do you know the name of the ship I’m going to be serving on next?” Dad interrupted her wool gathering, having seen the colour return to her face he was less worried she was sick and his earlier concern of her getting into his work documents was re-awoken.

“Well it was in all your letters you wrote home to us. Along with the stick man pictures you drew of how you signaled using ‘paddles’? to the helicopters trying to land on the ship.”

“Rachel, I haven’t left yet, nor written you letters, and I am a Hydrographer and Meteorologist, I am not going to be signaling the helicopter pilots on how to land.”

“Oh, maybe you just thought it was a fun fact to share with your son with pictures, and I thought you were the guy that actually did it. Anyway, the letters said the ship’s name.

Rachel’s parents looked at each other. Their daughter just referred to herself as a boy. Ignoring how she was happily talking about something that hadn’t yet happened as if it had, as explanation of knowing what was going to happen, which surely was circular reasoning. ‘What should they do about Rachel?’ Was more or less the thinking of both parents.

Rachel stopped herself from continuing. She realized that discussing about while being a teenager being told to buy a house as soon as he could afford one, to avoid his father’s mistake would not go across well. She was thankful Dad hadn’t asked about the diagrams of how to hold the ‘bats/paddles’? to prove his knowledge, as that was years ago according to the new old memories, and he recalled there had been diagrams, but couldn’t for the life of her remember what they looked like.

A couple of children stopped the inquisition, and Rachel fled outside leaving four concerned adults behind. However, they convinced themselves that Rachel must have heard them talking and then dreamed up the rest with her overactive imagination. She had said off the wall stuff before. In wanting to avoid discussing the male pronouns and identifiers each adult encouraged the other to shelve the conversation. They went back to discussing why they needed to move and the advantages of naval housing in Porchester that was only a stop away on the railway line to Portsmouth from Fareham. It meant they could keep in touch easily.

~o~O~o~

Rachel found that apparently, she was up next to ride ‘Pied Eye’ against Glenda on ‘Blackie’ as usual, and Mandy, Susan, and Kim on ‘Black Beauty’, ‘Misty’ and ‘Tomahawk’. Rachel didn’t fuss she wasn’t on her ‘Tomahawk’, Kim always wanted it ever since Rachel named her mount. Kim preferring it to the one she’d named ‘Pied Eye’ moments before.

Anne and Glenda had been the ones to say the girls couldn’t name their mounts the same name as used by another, nor change name after hearing something better. As the three Stillman girls were nearly through being read ‘Black Beauty’ from their Mum, Sally quickly named her mount ‘Black Beauty’ while Glenda grasped ‘Blackie’** to trump her younger sister. Anne had followed with ‘Misty’, and no one knew what Kim and Rachel were thinking other than Rachel following the ‘Pied Eye’ with a ‘Tomahawk’ for her horse’s name.

Rachel glanced at the poor lineup position Kim and Glenda had chosen, but then recalled this was likely the race they flipped the direction of the laps around the tree. Deliberately starting slowly she looked over her shoulder and saw them bouncing in place while turning the space hoppers to face the opposite direction, and he cut back after them in leaping bounds.

While the other four all swung to orbit the tree close, he swung further out wide. Sure enough the planned switcheroo on the lap direction caused the similar tangle when four versus the prior three space hoppers approached close in to the tree trunk on head on collision, and he was able to carry on in the reverse direction away from the snaffle up with his outer orbit of the tree and win the race.

“How’d you know the direction was changed, Rachel?” Anne asked.

“You three do it all the time. One of us will start to notice and pay attention.” Rachel offered.

“But, you weren’t even here when we planned this.” Kim sulked.

“Are you sure you’re the eldest Kim?” Rachel asked. “I mean your pout is the cutest baby pout I’ve ever seen.”

“Rachel and Sally are five today, not nine or something, yes?” The nearly eight year old Anne asked Glenda, as Rachel easily beat Anne’s nine year old sister in the last verbal spar.

~o~O~o~

* First HMS Zulu, Tribal F-class destroyer launched on 16 Sept 1909 and commissioned on March 1910 had her stern blown up and sunk by minefield off Dover on 27 Oct 1916 during world war one. The forward section was attached to the Nubian’s stern that lost its forward section to torpedo and the new ship became HMS Zubian.
Second HMS Zulu, Tribal-class destroyer was launched 23 Sept 1937 and commissioned 7 Sept 1938. It was sunk 14 Sept 1942 during world war two.
Third HMS Zulu, Tribal-class Frigate was launched on 3 July 1962 commissioned on 17 April 1964 and sold to the Indonesian Navy in 1984.
** “Blackie” was “Black Beauty’s” name from original owner at the start of the book.

Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.

The next few weeks progressed almost exactly the same as Rachel remembered them doing. The realtors ‘For Sale’ sign was stuck in the front garden. They had to constantly clean the house because strangers were visiting to decide if they wanted to take their house away from the girls. Something seemed wrong with that. They had to work harder to help have, what they didn’t want to have happen, occur. Glenda’s tantrum about not wanting to move and ‘lose all her friends for ever’ was summarily ignored.

“Rachel Monica Stillman! Why are you not ready?”

“But Mum can’t I stay at home…

“Come here young lady. We are going to your room!” Rachel was almost dragged to the room where the offending articles of clothing were still where her Mum had left them, the middle of the bottom bunk she shared tops and tails with Sally.

“Arms up.”

“I can dress myself!”

“Obviously not, now we’re nearly late so arms up.” Rachel suffered the humiliation of not just having to wear, but being dressed in white tights, pink leotard, and a flippin’ pink tutu as if she were a baby still unable to dress herself. With her hair roughly brushed collected and tied in a high pony tail she looked like a right prat. Her red ringed and blottey panda circles around her eyes from trying to not cry probably didn’t help any.

This was a drastic change from her memories. She didn’t even remember that Glenda had already been going to ballet at this time. She had memories of her quitting ballet when they lived in Weymouth about three years from now. Perhaps she’d only paid attention to what her big sister was doing alone when there was yelling, screaming and major drama was involved.

Of course Rachel realized as Mum locked the front door with her and her sisters outside with far too much of her body visible, they wouldn’t be getting into the car. No Dad had the car so they were now going to walk in public dressed like… Ah she didn’t even want to acknowledge in thought what she currently looked dressed as. This had to be child abuse.

A lifetime of humiliation later they finally got to the dance studio and were able to get out of public view, and she could at least hide at the back of the sea of five to teenage age dancers in similar enough outfits that she hopefully wasn’t visible.

Twenty-five minutes later and Rachel had succeeded in annoying the ever patient teacher enough by doing nothing and ignoring her that she’d asked one of the older girls to cover the class while she went into her office with Rachel’s Mum. She’d refused to smile, follow directions and stood rigid in the back with arms folded. Initially she had thought to mimic so as to not stand out, but then realized that doing so would lead to capitulation. She did make note of the stretches. Those likely would be useful when not dressed as a ballerina! With any luck the teacher is likely begging her Mum to never bring her here again. Just a few more minutes of being ridiculed and gossiped about and the walk home, and maybe she will be free of this outfit she thought, to allow herself to handle the taunting. Sadly there were Mums here that were as rude and un-accepting, if not more than the children.

Rachel felt a little bad as she almost ran with her sisters after her hastily walking Mum on the way home after class. Her Mum looked like she was about to cry which made no sense. Rachel had told her she wouldn’t enjoy ballet. Mum’d said she just had to try and might find she actually likes it. She was an adult and shouldn’t cry just because the other person was right. If she had just listened to her in the beginning this would never have happened. When she’d said that to her Mum, it had made her Mum more upset. Rachel was figuring it was best to leave it alone. Soon she would be home and out of this ridiculous outfit, and never have to wear it again.

Saturday started with the typical grey gloom of late early-April, where Spring had stalled in escaping Winter. The kids were bundled up into the car for yet another weekend of house hunting. Rachel had lost to Sally for a window seat on the rear bench of the Austin Allegro. Thus, was stuck with feet on the hump. This was nice, as her dangling feet could actually rest on the raised floor. However, said hump was erroneously used to show the space of the seat that was hers. She was also too short to see easily out of the front windshield, so the lack of view often led to making her carsick. She used to think the Allegro was a huge car, having one more sibling seemed to cause the car to shrink.

After the third house in Titchfield the excitement of carefully tearing around different rooms and gardens was wearing even Sally’s previously believed unending excitement. As Glenda and Sally attempted to get Rachel to join in on their pinching and pulling hair game she was unfortunately sat in the middle of, Rachel tried to listen to her parent’s conversation up front, as the car drove to Whiteley next.

“Let’s stop for lunch somewhere on the way to Whiteley, dear.” Mum requested.

“I’ll see what I can do. Anyway, I think the second was a definite candidate.”

“I am not living for a year in a house that needs that much work. Remember you can’t get started fixing anything for almost a year. I can’t live with that kitchen and bathroom. Two of the bedrooms are unusable, and the garden!”

“Dear, I could get the kitchen changed before I left. The second bedroom is larger than the one the three girl’s are currently sharing, so the bedrooms can wait…

“And the bathroom, and the garden?” Mum asked.

“I might be able to get the bathroom done too. Can’t the garden wait?”

“Micheal, even best case, it will take six weeks to move, and that will leave slightly less than two months to unpack and get yourself sorted for your own move. Do you really think during the handful of weekends you aren’t pulled on duty, you can shop for and install the new kitchen, and you think to say you could get the bathroom fixed also. If the Hughes’ offer falls through, and there’s something odd there, then we will still be looking for a buyer. Most likely we will barely have time to sell and move before you’re gone, and I can’t live with that kitchen and bathroom for a year.”

“How about ‘The Wilde Horse’?” Michael quickly changed the subject.

“We’re going to get a horse when we move?” Glenda immediately changed her mind on being against the move.

“Really!” The shriek from Sally was instilled with pure excitement. The two girls began into a hurried conversation of timeshare, grooming, mucking the stall, and other allotments of who gets what when, with the believed family horse. Rachel just sunk back into the rear seat not wanting to be the wake-up call to reality on that one.

“A pub lunch is not really appropriate with the girl’s.”

“We can sit in the garden, the sun’s come out and it looks quite nice.”

“What about our horse?” Glenda tried to get back to the important conversation.

Belinda looked out and noted that there was a patch of clear sky so agreed with her husband on his lunch idea.

Here’s ‘The Wilde Horse’, poppet.” Michael told his eldest as he turned, and the pub’s sign could be seen ahead.

“That’s not a horse.”

“Sure, it is. Look at the picture on the sign.” Dad told Glenda.

“Looks like you’ll have to go in to order.” Belinda offered. “They can have lemonade, are we drinking?”

“I figured I would get a pint.”

“Glass of house white as long as it’s not too dry.”

As Sally and Glenda went to explore the flower garden likely still hopeful on getting a horse, Rachel followed her Mum, whom had brought some printed sheets of paper from the Allegro to the wooden slat table they would be eating lunch at. Placing several house fliers beside each other she tried to plan the order of the afternoons hunting. Rachel to pass time quickly started reading from the side of her Mum.

“What are you doing Rachel?” Mum asked her daughter, having suddenly realized she was not alone in her reading.

“Looking at the choices of houses we’re going to look at next. These two have only two bedrooms, and that one has three, but no driveway or garage…

“How do you know that, there are no pictures on this page? Wait a second what does this word say?”

“fireplace?” Rachel queried trying to work out how that word had anything to do with what she had just said.

“… and this one?”

“fenced.” Rachel more confidently offered. Then as her Mum pointed to several words she called them each out until getting to the last request for ‘panoramic’.

“When did you learn panoramic?”

“Well I’m sure I’ve heard you or Dad say it many times.”

“No, I mean, how it looks written.”

“Well I mean it’s actually spelt just as it sounds, so I’m not sure what to say.” Rachel said being slightly flustered as she couldn’t recall why she knew how the word looked like it did and trying to answer 'when' would open a whole other kettle of fish. She could just see how that one would go over if she said, 'I'm sorry Mum but I can't recall when in my prior life's over forty years of memories I learned that word. Oh, and I was a man then.'

“Fireplace doesn’t though.” Mum replied. “If you spoke it how it’s written you would say something like ‘fiery plackey’.”

“No, I wouldn’t it’s missing the ‘y’s’ and ‘k’ for saying it that way.” Rachel obstinately disagreed and hopefully muddied the water by acting out.

“I brought you the wine list, as the house white is rather dry apparently.” Michael said, dropping the three lemonades, a couple of menus and the wine list on the table.

“Rachel can read all of this.” Belinda informed her husband.

“Well the school says she spends all her free time reading.”

“I’m sure it’s picture books, the school isn’t aware she can read words like ‘panoramic’. They would call something like that out specifically.”

Michael once more found himself in uncomfortable territory before realizing that he had to go back for his pint. “They recommend the Mount Evan Chablis, I can get it when I go back for my pint?” At his wife’s nod he escaped and put off having to address the oddness that was his second daughter.

“Sally, Glenda. Come here girls and chose what you want to eat. Actually, Rachel why don’t you read the menu to them.”

“Rachel can’t read the menu Mum, she’s five!” Glenda exclaimed.

“Sure, she can. Rachel read the choices to your sisters.” Mum requested and didn’t notice the thunderous brow forming on her eldest as Rachel began reading.

As Rachel finished reading the sixth item Glenda tore the menu from her hands. “it’s just a dumb menu anyone can read it Mum. She then began reading the first item on the menu that Rachel had already read. “Cot-tag-ee pie sir-ved with…

“That was ‘cottage pie’ and ‘served’ and I read that one already…

“Of course, it is but I am teaching Sally how to sound out the words. It’s the first step in learning to read but you don’t know that yet. Here you need more practice.” Glenda thrust the menu back at her sister, and their Mum realized that perhaps this hadn’t been as good an idea as she’d originally thought it would be.

Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.

With the house choices whittled down correctly, as Rachel had stated before lunch, there were only two choices to look at in Whiteley. So they had decided to look at the best candidate in Curdridge rather than driving back this way on Sunday. Unfortunately, none of the three were acceptable.

“It is not worth driving back out this way for the others as from the descriptions we already counted them out as unacceptable.” Mum said as they drove back to Fareham in the early evening.

“You want to look at Porchester tomorrow?” Dad asked.

“Why not look at Havant?” Rachel asked, wanting to stop her Dad making the same mistake as last time. “Being the junction of two railway lines you can get direct trains east to Chichester and Brighton, south to Portsmouth, west to Fareham and Southampton, and north to London.”

“Well you are wrong on the direct trains to Fareham and Southampton but the rest is true and a good idea. We never thought to look east.” Dad pondered while thinking. “What time does the realestate office close?”

“It might be already closed. It is five-twenty, and it’s a Saturday. I thought we were looking west of Porchester so I can easily get to Fareham, and I like shopping in Southampton, the girls’ like the ice rink too.” Mum offered, while Rachel realized that it was later that Havant became the junction of the Brighton to Southampton and Portsmouth to Waterloo lines*.

“It’s worth swinging by on the way home just to see. You know your Mum loves Chichester for shopping and we could take the girls to Brighton for the pier or to swim, or the museums in London. The change in Fratton would not add too much to the trip to Fareham or Southhampton.” Dad said and altered the course to include the town center when his wife didn’t object.

Lights could be seen and a group of people standing through the real estate office windows as they pulled up to the curb of the office. “If anyone comes, sit in the driver’s seat, dear. I’ll duck in there before they close.” Dad said pulling to the curb of a loading only zone, and quickly entered the Fareham office.

Barely fifteen minutes later, Dad was back with a few more house prospects. “We need to look at this one in Emsworth tonight. It was reduced a couple of hours ago and someone plans to look at it tomorrow. They called the seller and their aware we’re coming this evening.”

“What about dinner? They’ll want something soon.”

“You think they can eat chips and not mess up the car while I drive?” Dad asked.

“Yay fish and chips.” Glenda cried.

“Just the chips and you eat them one at a time and don’t drop any in the car.” Mum interrupted. “I’ll get them a small bag each as there’s less chance of a mess if they don’t have to share. We can then eat something at home later.”

“Well I was hoping for a few chips myself too.”

“Fine I’ll buy four bags.” Mum countered and checked she had her handbag as they pulled up at ‘The Plaice**’.

The trip to Emsworth was quiet, primarily as the girls were happily munching on chips. Michael following the directions given turned left onto the less busy side street just before the house and found the driveway on the right for the house on the corner lot. The driveway swung right and headed to the garage door. Right of the driveway was a tall hedge that blocked out the main road from the side and rear of the house. Left of the driveway was the fenced back garden. The fence followed the edge of the driveway allowing the garden to widen as it stretched away from the rear of the house after the driveways entrance.

“This is the back of the house. It’s backwards Dad.” Glenda said looking at the unique house.

“The prior owner got planning permission to put windows in at the now back of the garage, which was the original front. Put this driveway here and the old driveway was dug up to allow a bigger front garden.”

“Why would they do that.” Rachel asked pondering the strange idea.

“The main road got too busy to back out into. Other houses along this road have added a second front driveway or spur to turn cars around in. Of course their front gardens end up smaller due to doing that. This house being on the corner with the less busy side street had this third option to solve the issue.”

Leaving the Allegro they used the gate to leave the driveway and follow the footpath to a covered porch with French windows that were open. Sitting in the room beyond enjoying the evening sunset, but sheltered from the stiff sea breeze, the children saw a couple that were several years older than their parents.

“You must be the Stillmans? I’m William Brentwood and this is my wife Patricia.” The gentleman said while crossing to Michael with hand extended. His wife stood and followed. “Come on in. Let’s show you around.”

After the obligatory greeting and name exchanges Patricia informed the family of the room they were currently standing. “This is our sunroom and we were just enjoying the sunset. We use the porch when it’s warmer outside.”

William continued explaining the house. “Yes, the porch is nice for Summer evenings. Anyway, the sunroom here shares running the rear of the house ‘till the breakfast bar where starts the breakfast slash casual dining area. These two rooms and the main bedroom with ensuite above are all part of an extension added to the original three bedroom house that we did when we bought the house. That opening to the study-library used to be a window, and the door there adjacent replaced what used to be the rear door of the house.” Glenda couldn’t help herself running and peering through the opening into the study.

“Girls, best behavior and no running please.” Their Mum reminded them.

“On the other side of the old rear door is the hall and stairs running down the center of the Georgian style house to the front door.” William led them past the breakfast bar into the breakfast dining area where the rear wall had been knocked through so the original small kitchen could increase into the extension sharing with the breakfast dining area half of the new addition.

“We removed the old door from the hall into the kitchen to allow more counter space, kitchen cabinets and make the kitchen more modern and spacious.With the rear wall removed the sink moved into the extension to make the kitchen bigger, but otherwise it is in the same place as the plumbing had been below the old rear window. The cabinets, sink, hob and oven were all upgraded as was the tiling and marble countertop.” Patricia informed them.

After they had looked at the kitchen in detail they followed Mister Brentwood through the archway into the dining room that was at the front of the house. It had a five paned bay window looking out on the front lawn that swept at a slight slope down to a tall hedge that except for a gate in the middle blocked the busy road from the house. A foot path bisected the lawn from the gate to front door. The dining room had cornice molding and a center round that the chandelier hung from. Molding panels ran around the lower portion of the rooms walls. In the middle of the right wall a door led into the main hallway.

“The second bedroom, that was the original master is above us and has a bay window too.” Patricia stated as William opened the door to the hallway.

Running along the far side of the hall were the stairs coming down toward the front of the house. The other side of the hall had three doors too. The door they entered from was the only one on their side of the hallway as the prior kitchen doorway had been walled in. At the two ends of the hall way were the front door and old rear door. Before the stairs started there was a door near the front door that led into the living room. The living room like the dining room had a bay window.

“There is a half bathroom under the stairs.” William told them opening the middle of the three doors on that wall to show a tiny sink and loo with sloped ceiling.

The third door like the first was sunk back as the stairs had ended prior to it. Due to being indented it was clear of the old back door and it opened in to the study-library. The new fourth bedroom was directly above the study. It was smaller than the third bedroom due to the ‘U’ shaped landing at the top of the stairs removing a bit more than three foot of width from it verses the third bedroom. The third bedroom was above the living room, so as well as being three feet wider it had a bay window too.

At the top of the stairs, and at the base of the ‘U’ landing was a door. “This door is where there used to be the landing window.” Patricia said opening it and bringing them into the new master bedroom. Near the bedroom’s windows there was an archway to the right which led into a sitting/dressing area with several closets. It had a door coming back toward the main house, where the ensuite butted onto the original exterior wall. The other side of that wall was where the main bathroom over the kitchen was located. The new ensuite had a window on the north side of the house. The one window in the main bathroom that had been on the original exterior rear west wall had been blocked with sheet plaster to make a recessed interior wall. The recess was utilized with medicine cabinets and shelving for both bathrooms. An expel air vent had been added to the north side wall of the main bathroom as it now had no window.

Back on the upper landing there was a door at the end of each arm of the ‘U’ that ran just about a third of the length of the original house’s hallway below. One side led into the previously second and now third bedroom. This side of the ‘U’ also had a door in its middle that led to the fourth now windowless bedroom, above the study. The other arm of the ‘U’ had two doors along its side, and thus three total. The two side doors provided were one for the main bathroom and one for the original master, now second bedroom.

“Where does that door go?” Michael asked about the locked door at the end of the ‘U’ that had three doors. Sally had tried opening it earlier while almost running around the house in excitement.

“That door leads up into the floored but unfinished attic. The house has mid to steep roofs and we have two full gables above the extension at the rear and two mid size bay window gables at the front of the house allowing four large rooms with windows to be made easily up there. Or you could make those rooms smaller and have two windowless storage areas, one in the middle of each pair of rooms.” William told them unlocking and opening the door. Stairs started right behind the door running the rest of length of the house to the front door, which explained how the front entrance below had a higher vaulted ceiling. The stairs turned at the front of the house and finished running back above the main-stair case, up to the attic space.

Rachel looking at the turning point and seeing a window to the outside evening got a little confused. “How can there be a window here? We’re above the front door and the roof should be sloping in here.”

“In addition to the two bay window gables there is a small gable in the center of the house above the front door, which is where this window is. See the edges of this mid landing’s ceiling. They are the slope of the gable above us.” Mister Brentwood informed them. From the mid landing only four stairs were needed to get into the attic.

The entire attic was floored. With the steep slope of the roof about seventy percent of the floor’s area was usable. For the twin girls it was likely over eighty percent they could stand up in, though that took a bit of twisting between the wooden framing in places. The collar beams were run above head height and would not interfere with the livable space.

Standing in the right hand bay window and looking through the furthest right hand pane of the five panes of glass making up said bay window you could see Emsworth Harbor and then beyond the channel Hayling Island blocked the view of the joining between the Solent and the English Channel. Hayling Island also blocked the view of the north eastern coast of the Isle of Wight eight miles or more south west***.

Aside the houses on the other side of the main road it was just the few taller buildings of Emsworth town center poking above the trees that could be seen. Even from this height the front hedge blocked the main road. Thus aside the blip of a car seen going one way or the other at the break where the front gate stands one could easily forget a road was there. Due to all the wooden beams and joists along the sides of the roof to enable the open area Glenda felt they were looking down from atop a magical tree house within a huge forest.

Glenda swung her arms while twirling. Then she ran to her Mum. “Mummy if we move here I want this room.”

“This isn’t finished yet princess.” Her Dad told her before one of the other girls started demanding the room too. “It will get extremely hot in the summer and cold in the winter as there’s no insulation or walls and it would be drafty and too big to sleep in alone.”

“Daddy, why? I can’t keep my friends, can’t have this attic, and can’t have a pet; I can’t even have a horse!” Glenda in eight year old exasperation declared.

~o~O~o~

‘*’ In the 70’s and early 80’s Fratton just outside Portsmouth was the junction as it was the first train station that the three routes, Southampton to Portsmouth, Brighton to Portsmouth and London to Portsmouth shared. During the late 80’s to 90’s Havant had grown significantly that it became the junction with the three routes being decreased into two.

‘**’ Plaice is a common commercially caught flat fish that lives on the European Continental shelf. It is not commercially viable in the U.S. which is more familiar with flounder and sole that are similar. Thus the joke of a fish and chip store called ‘The Plaice’ is often lost on US tourists. There are quite a few UK fish and chip businesses that use ‘Plaice’ in their name.

‘***’ At eye level about 5’ 7’’ when standing at sea level you can see about three miles. Standing in the attic on top of a two-story house that is itself around fifty feet above sea level will enable one to see about nine miles without obstruction. So, If Hayling island wasn’t there the coast of the Ilse of Wight could be seen. Of course Hayling Island is there so the Isle of Wight still can’t be seen.

Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.

Though the house had been listed almost five years ago as being in Emsworth, it was actually in New Brighton as it was north of the A27. The train station was on the south side of the main road so, Emsworth was used to describe most of this area unless people wanted to be clique and exclude themselves from other neighborhoods. Emsworth railway station also actually served Westbourne, New Brighton, Thorny Island, Prinsted and it could be argued Southbourne too. Southbourne was actually directly in the middle of Emsworth’s and Nutbourne’s railway stations.

Rachel stepped into the bay of her bedroom and looked in the furthest right pane. Being a floor lower than the attic bay window, she could only see a bit of the Coast of Hayling Island. It was her glimpse of sea to recall her odd dreams of the Pacific Ocean. They had lived here nearly five years and she had always had this bedroom. Glenda took the attic room above hers two years ago. Rachel wonders if Dad had finished the other side first if she could have got the room she wanted.

Unfortunately, the attic bay window room above the old main bedroom was finished second, and when Rachel turned it down it went to Sally, whom moved from sharing the third bedroom with Rachel to it, as soon as it was completed. When the windowless attic bathroom was finished against the north end wall of the roof, the original main bathroom of the house became hers alone, except when their Grandparents visited. Rachel constantly reminded herself of this fact to show herself that good stuff did still happen in her life.

Her Mother made friends in Emsworth far quicker than she had in Porchester. In fact as in her old memories or weird dreams they had seemed to live in Fareham, and only sleep in Porchester her memories as Geoff didn’t include her Mum making friends there. As surely she must have, it was one of several reasons she was seriously questioning if the memories were not made up. Rachel wished that her Mother’s two best friends in Emsworth weren’t Laura and Ester.

Well Laura wasn’t too bad. She was a perky ball of energy that had a lovely smile that seemed almost a permanent fixture. Rachel had never met someone before that just didn’t seem to get upset, ever. The problem was she had too much energy and got her Mother hooked on aerobics. Paired with the two spare finished bedrooms in the rear of the attic and it meant one was quickly re-purposed and filled with her Mother’s aerobic stuff. It also had a partially mirrored wall and barre added for Sally to practice her ballet.

Though she and Glenda usually were able to duck out of ballet practice they weren’t as lucky avoiding aerobics. All three girls were routinely press ganged into their Mother’s aerobic torture sessions. She’d never before thought she would curse having a large house with empty rooms. Her dreams of the earlier life living in smaller houses had never included dance torture.

Rachel had quickly learnt to not mention anything about what was going to happen, and actually a fair amount occurred differently. They hadn’t gone to live in Portugal, which meant the eight months before turning seven she had put into starting to learn Portuguese was a wasted effort. Their Dad had instead gone for a year to the Naval Post Graduate School in Monterey, California to get his masters in Physics. Due to it being only a year instead of a typical two years working abroad there was no family travel provided so the family stayed in Emsworth. She was worried that with her Dad going to Monterey already he wouldn’t take the two years exchange officer program to work at the F.N.O.C.* when she was sixteen like he had before. Meaning she wouldn’t get out to California and meet Kathleen in University there.

She was unsure if the changes with what she had thought was a prior life were due to her causing the change in how the dreams of her prior life went, her memory not being perfect, or if it proved they were dreams and not real in the first place. Sally had never shown any indication that she was Daphne or a boy before. In fact if she declared that Sally was a boy they would likely commit her as she’d never met a more girly girl. No one could act all the time oblivious to a prior life. Finding there was a Kathleen studying organic chemistry in UC Berkeley would surely prove Geoff was real. So she had eight years to wait until she could prove definitively that Geoff was real.

Sighing, Rachel wondered what to do about her boredom. Due to being thought smart she had been bumped up two years, and at becoming ten a few weeks ago was finishing her first year of secondary school. This fact was definitely disliked by Glenda who at thirteen and in her second year of secondary, probably was worried they would be in the same third year next school year. She hoped it was just immature jealousy that caused Glenda to ensure Rachel’s life in Warblington was absolute hell.

Had she messed up her new life? From her dreams or memories of Geoff’s prior life, where it had just been the two of them, she recalled Geoff generally having a good relationship with his big sister. He had a good one with his parents until his late teens when he failed his Maths O-level, which should be no problem for her this life. Then again, this life she didn’t have a great relationship to mess up, as she already did that over the last five years. Rachel was sure it was Misses Fowler and her changeling conversations with her Mother that had soured her relationship with her parents.

Misses Fowler was Ester’s Mother, and she had definitely never been Ester’s Mum. For that reason Rachel forgave how Ester treated her, as she felt sorry she’d never had a Mum. Rachel had memories as Geoff of being raised by a loving Mum, which of course could be her imagination, but even if that wasn’t real she has five years of knowing that Glenda, Sally and her, were loved that Ester never got. Her Mother was still a good Mum to Sally and reasonable to Glenda. It could be her own fault. Maybe being a weird adult in a child’s body couldn’t be loved. She tried to act childish, but that only caused more problems.

They’d become a dysfunctional family and no matter how you sliced it Rachel knew it had to mainly be her fault. Maybe she was a changeling. If the fey messed up their spell it could explain her dual existence as both male and female. If the memories were true then as she was what was changed between that life and this then it was her fault her Mother treated her the way she did. Dad had always favored Glenda. In the memories of the prior life, Mum favored Geoff. Before Ester and Misses Fowler arrived, she favored the twins. Now, she favored Sally.

Rachel was constantly berated for not being like her sisters, and yet praised for being smart. It was weird she was constantly under pressure to study harder and behave like a lady as she was a disappointment being so much of a tomboy unlike her good sisters. However, her academic skills were lauded to all and sundry. In private though it was as if she wasn’t trying hard enough and she could do no right. If she didn’t feel sort of guilty of cheating with Geoff’s memories to lean on she would be disgruntled with how she, the girl that skipped two years ahead, was considered the family’s disappointment.

The other problem was that her parents wanted her to concentrate on studying and wouldn’t let her do anything she had suggested so far as a hobby to provide a break. Well that wasn’t completely true they had finally allowed her a racing bike instead of the three speed girl’s bike being handed down from Glenda. That old bike went to Sally instead, and she was made to feel she owed Sally for accepting it and enabling her to get an inappropriate bike for a girl. Maybe she imagined that. She was constantly second guessing whether her inadequacies in her parents’ eyes were dreamed up due to her own guilt or were actually present.

The cycling hadn’t provided her with what she desperately needed, friends. The local bike club in Emsworth, ‘The Kingley Nights’ was geared totally to mountain biking. If she put more effort maybe she could do better and find a safe way to get to a road bike club that was further afield. However, this was for fun and she wasn't even allowed to go riding on the Isle of Wight after using train and passenger ferry with her bike as he was when Geoff lived in Portsmouth. No, where the bike gave Geoff freedom, she was severely limited in how far she was allowed to roam.

It was her friends in the CC Weymouth bike club she missed. She’d never been anything better than average at cycling but they used to ride all over Dorset. She especially enjoyed their Weymouth to Dorchester trips up the scarp steep hills. She’d lost count of how many times they made that trek during the nearly three years Geoff had lived there the second time Dad was posted at Portland after returning from Portugal. As Dad had never worked a day in Portland this life, this was yet another nail to show Geoff was a figment of her overactive imagination. It would mean those friends too, were imaginary. Rachel sometimes felt her desire to cling to those memories was to prove she had, and therefore deserved in this life too, friends.

Unlike the roads around their house, the roads in Dorset were quieter. If they had lived there and she’d been allowed to do so much more as her memories said they did, she had to think it was not only because she was a boy, but the quieter roads and her having a group of friends that had allowed her true freedom at nine years old that at ten she still hasn’t got yet. True her parents allowed her a racing bike but it hadn’t lead to the friends it did last time, and her other choices of things she wanted to try, didn’t get as good a reception. She tried to stop herself from thinking that being a girl was to blame for this worse version of life. Sally and Glenda appeared happy. It was just Rachel’s life that seemed to suck compared to Geoff’s. Worse though was Geoff’s life seemed rather average with moments of something great. A child shouldn’t be jealous for that.

Her parents out right refused to let her learn the drums or guitar. Her Mother knew how to play flute and violin which she was teaching to Glenda. Mother also taught the flute to Sally. Sally had her ballet that neither other girl was interested in. Though they hadn’t gone to Weymouth, Glenda quit sooner, which Mother blamed Rachel for causing. If she wasn’t second guessing whether her prior memories were true she could possibly feel less guilty of being the problem. If they were true she still had to still feel guilty of making it occur sooner.

Glenda quitting was either due to her, as her Mother espoused, because Glenda dislike being shown up, as Sally quickly showed she was better at ballet, the teacher in New Brighton that was not as patient as the one in Fareham, the lack of her friend Anne in the class, or one or more of those combined with the fact she would have quit anyway eventually. Regardless it was another proof that her belief of what was going to happen was so much bunk, and no reprieve from the blame her Mother assigned her.

Rachel was increasingly of the opinion that Geoff was an imaginary friend she created when a child. Her parents never said she had stopped them from losing money so it could be just her overactive imagination. She got more things wrong than right so perhaps what she got right was pure coincidence.

Rachel was forced to at least learn piano, after her Grandma gave her piano to Rachel’s Mother. The upright Steinway had turned the ground floor study into a music room. A slightly frosted glass window had re-glazed the opening into the sunroom shut in order to keep the noise from traveling too easily into the rest of the house. If Grandma didn’t live near Northallerton in the north of England it probably wouldn’t be so bad. She liked the lessons her Grandma gave when her Grandparents visited. Unfortunately, her piano teacher was older than her Grandma and likely the strictest person Rachel knew from either life.

Misses Fowler demanded she practice and have her lessons while wearing dresses. “When young lady you finely learn enough from me to play the piano, you will thank me for not getting the bad habits of playing while wearing the tomboy rags you think acceptable wear. Do you think young lady you can perform wearing t-shirt and trousers?” It had been spoken to her so often that she could still hear it when her teacher wasn’t present. That and the sting in her wrists from being hit from a ruler for letting them sag during lessons. Learning to play the piano with back ram rod straight due to books placed on her head while doing her minor and major scales, wearing bloomin’ lacey dresses, and not allowed to relax her wrists was torture. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so adamant to not learn the flute or violin. She had fond memories of learning the piano as Geoff. They didn’t include dresses or any formal clothes, didn’t start ‘till he was twelve and didn’t include Misses Fowler, books or ruler slapping. No they were a time he shared with Grandma when the piano came to their second house, a three bedroom detached in Northallerton.

If she kept just spending her time with school books she could be placed in Glenda’s next school year and might not survive the bullying. With that thought she decided to get her bike out and get away. She needed a hobby, something to sink her time in so her parents aren’t upset if she isn’t the next genius in the making, something to make her happy, and maybe a friend.

Staying on B roads north of the A27 Rachel headed west on her bike toward Havant. She would normally then head north climbing the gentle slopes of the South Downs to avoid crossing the A3. She realized she should have gone east toward Chichester as she didn’t feel like making the climbs to the north. Hang on she was in Havant and this road went to Hayling Island. There was a footpath bridge that went over the roundabout and tunneled beneath the A27 so she could escape her parents’ imposed prison walls and actually see the sea. Not just a sliver but on this nice day the English Channel, the Solent, the northern coast of the Isle of Wight, Portsmouth and possibly some of the naval ships.

Using sixty-five pence of her pocket money she bought a bag of chips and scraps from a fish and chip store in Havant. Wow a pound eighty for piece of fish wasn’t worth spending her money on. The scraps were the pieces of batter that fell off when frying the fish so it’s virtually like getting fish and chips and a quarter the price. Finishing her lunch Rachel wiped her greasy hands off by rubbing them together then rubbing them on her jeans and then continued the second leg of her journey.

A few of the lights were out in the tunnel beneath the A27. Trash and some graffiti and limited lighting didn’t lend itself to making Rachel feel safe. She mustn’t stay out too long as she wanted to return before it got into the evening. The road on the other side wasn’t too bad and she was quickly rolling toward Hayling Island. She got back on the footpath as the road seemed a bit busy and rather narrow when it became the bridge over to the Island. However, when the foot path ended on the other side she returned to the road now on the Island. The chips and scraps must have been what she needed as she finished the five miles faster than the first three to the chippy.

Before she saw the sea, before she saw the actual beaches sand, other than sand that had been blown onto the streets, Rachel saw a meadow of fabric cutting in front of the hazy sky’s blue backdrop. Seeing what seemed hundreds of triangles of colored cloth some rippling others taut while gliding left or right was attention grabbing. More noticeable than the flocks of seagulls that danced and shrieked to and fro reeling and copying their neighbor, the flotilla of yachts was something Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off.

‘*’ F.N.O.C. Fleet Numerical Meteorology and Oceanography Center provides weather service above and below the water for the US and coalition forces operating in the Pacific Ocean.

Rachel is pushing against the control and barriers to freedom her parents enforce. Those rebellious teen years might arrive earlier than expected.

Locking her bike’s rear wheel to a bike stand on the wide pavement beside the beach Rachel couldn’t stop looking, and had to lock the chain by feel as her eyes had more important things to look at. Except to note the steps to the beach her eyes stayed locked on the yachts. How didn’t they hit each other, and how did they know what the others were going to do, and was it safe to have such tiny boats in the sea? What were they all doing here at the same time? Usually she would see a couple of ferries, perhaps a hovercraft and a naval ship or two. Sometimes there were groups of yachts but never this many so close to each other and so close to her, and so small.

Rachel felt that if she just entered the water a little way and reached out she could touch the sails of the ones that were nearer. More importantly each yacht had one passenger, one female passenger. True the girls were older than her, probably late teens or in their early twenties, but this was obviously something girls did, and it seemed far more boyish than anything her parents ever let her do. Not one of them wore a bloody dress. Nope skin tight wet suits just like male surfers wore. The interest in the numerous tiny yachts had her ignore the pain as the rather more stony than sandy beach poked into her feet through the thin soles of the plimsolls she’d opted to wear today.

Unfortunately, it was the tail end Charlies that had been sailing close to the shore and they having passed between the near buoy and one further out, swung back heading southeast into the Solent where the leaders sailed. Aside glancing to see there were no other yachts heading to the turn just off the coast, just a motor boat with two people in it about twenty feet further off the coast than the further buoy. Rachel returned to watching the front group of yachts while wondering if they would return here again. The front group was now sort of sailing west parallel to the coast, but zigzagging that westerly direction, while the tail end Charlies were still sailing straight southeast likely toward a buoy Rachel couldn’t see.

There was another motor boat sitting close just inside where the yachts were turning. It probably like the one close to the shore was there to ensure the yachts didn’t cut the corner. Rachel strained her eyes looking southwest and figured there was a third motorboat sitting there. Likely the third corner of a triangular track. The only odd thing was there was a fourth motor boat a hundred or so yards ‘west-ish’ of that third boat so maybe that was the turning point? As soon as the straggling yachts made the turn at what Rachel was calling the second buoy they stopped sailing straight and started the odd zigzagging method of creeping toward the west.

Near her a couple each with binoculars were looking at the yachts. “Come on Michelle keep tight on the buoy. No, you let her steal your wind.” The woman said.

“She had to yield, ‘four-three-seven’ had a better line on the buoy and right of way dear.” The ‘husband’? tried to calm the woman. “There’s plenty of race left for her to recover. Oh hello, who do you have in the event?” The man asked Rachel seeing her avidly watching the regatta leading group that had turned to sail back toward them. Hopefully it wasn’t ‘four-three-seven’ that was clearly in the lead sailing straight north east toward them, blocking the view of his daughter’s dinghy that should be still in second place just behind.

“No one. I just have never seen so many tiny yachts. How do they not hit each other?” Rachel asked tearing her eyes off long enough to see both of the couple now looking at her. The yachts had turned after the third motor boat so the fourth likely had nothing to do with the race. However, all four boats looked similar.

“They’re dinghies. In general yachts are at least twenty three feet long. These laser radials are about ten feet too short to be called yachts.” The man informed Rachel, while his ‘wife’? looked around the beach.

“Anyway young lady what is your name and how old are you?” She asked, and after getting it she finally asked in concern. “Are your parents on the beach?”

“No, I rode here on my bike from New Brighton. I just have never seen so many ya… I mean dinghies.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?” The lady continued to hold the interrogation.

“Well no but this is closer than Chichester, and I’m allowed to cycle to there and on the South Downs up to Uppark and between Chichester and the A3. I just mustn’t cycle on or across the A3 or A27, except into Emsworth.” Rachel quickly tried to reassure them. She was actually only allowed to cycle to West Broyle and East Lavant, but as those were on the outskirts of Chichester and less well known it was easier to list Chichester as the boundary point.

“It would appear you violated your parents boundaries as you are south of the A27 to be here.” The man shrewdly stated.

“Oh, I used the pedestrian foot-bridge-tunnel in Havant to not cross the A27.” Rachel quickly defended.

While the woman pursed her lips and looked about to tell Rachel off, the man had a good laugh. “We have a solicitor to be in this one. So you have Misses Young as your teacher at the primary school, yes?”

“I skipped her form I’m in Warblington secondary.”

“She teaches third, if you skipped her class you would be in fourth.” The lady informed.

“From infants I skipped first form into Miss White’s second form. Then I skipped Misses Young’s class and went into Misses Moss’s class. This school year I am in first form at Warblington.

“Well I think I’ve found my new partner, dear.”

“You’ll have retired before she gets her degree.”

“Not if she keeps skipping forms I won’t.” The gentleman had another laugh.

At this point dinghy four-seven-three appeared to be almost aiming to ram into the beach and spectators, the dinghy of course was getting closer to them with the lady sat but leaning her upper part of her body out of the boat toward them as if she was trying to pull the dinghy a bit more toward the coast. Rachel out of the corner of her eye saw the boom of the sail fly towards them and the sailor was leaning away from them. How had she got over there and not been hit by the boom? She wasn’t sat but stood on the other side and stopping the boat from rolling toward them. Rachel could see the sea nearly level with the top edge of the closer side. How did she know the dinghy wouldn’t capsize? The two sails were both nearly low enough to hit the top of the buoy. The sailor seemed to be leaning so far out on the way higher seaboard side to stop the side closer to the beach of the dinghy submerging beneath the surf that the dinghy cut diagonally back against.

Hard on her stern with an opposite attack Rachel watched dinghy six-one-one whose woman was leaning slightly in the opposite direction. The boat tilted about half the angle as the first but seaward so Rachel could see the hull of the dinghy. Suddenly, the lady seemed to step into the boat swing her body down leaning backwards and around allowing the boom to fly in a super fast limbo parody where the limbo bar moved as well as the leaning back limbo dancer twisted. She stepped onto the opposite edge from the one she’d been sitting on before and leaned away from the coast trying to drag her dinghy off its prior near collision course with the rear of boat in front as she took the outside of the far buoy as tightly if not more so than the dinghy before took the inside of the nearer one. Rachel was sure for a moment with cresting surf that the closer side of the dinghy was momentarily below water, but it might be the angle and the boat was further out. The sailor seemed to be leaning over the top of the buoy and she wondered if it was just the boat or both boat and sailor that had to be outside of the buoy on a turn.

“What does your Dad do young lady?” The man returned to questioning Rachel after the next half dozen dinghies that made up the leader group had made the corner near them. There was a large gap to the next group sailing for the coast. The last of the race still hadn’t rounded the third buoy.

“He’s in the Royal Navy.” Rachel proudly said, and was slightly put out on the disappointment or worse registering on his face. In fact he suddenly realized he was forgetting the race and apparently to Rachel’s thinking no longer interested in her as he pulled up his binoculars to try to find what was going on as the lead group attacked the second buoy.

“Dear, our daughter is in the lead!” He exclaimed.

As both returned to looking at the event Rachel decided to shuffle back to her bike. Being reminded of the dinghies though caused her to be caught up once more so she wasn’t making a true swift get away. There was a straggling tail of dinghies yet to make the turn near where they stood and the boom swing as they turned at the buoy was exciting to watch. Especially the way the dinghies tilted.

“Rachel as soon as the race is over we are heading back to Emsworth Yacht Club. We’ll give you a lift because I don’t think your parents will be happy to know you crossed the A27.” The lady said.

“I have my bike, and I really enjoy riding.” Rachel said. The expression had made her realize that she was offering too much information to complete strangers. She quickly made her way back to the bike, hopefully she’d be well gone before the race ended. As she unlocked the chain she glanced back to see both looking at the race once more. She’d ride along the beach so she could watch the race while getting further away, Rachel decided.

Rachel chose to carry on north when she got to Havant, so if asked she could truthfully say she had ridden on the South Downs. Thus instead of heading east with the sun behind her she kept on to Rowlands Castle and then got the welcome shade from trees as she carried on gently climbing toward West Marden.

Seeing it was nearly five she aborted the trip to West Marden and headed South through Forestside and a nearly direct southerly route to Emsworth. The majority of the trip back home was downhill so Rachel made excellent time. She was pulling into the driveway and opening the gate to the back garden at barely gone five-fifty. She was therefore startled to be addressed as if she’d returned late from her Mum who had exited the French windows onto the rear porch.

“And where have you been young lady?”

“It’s only five-fifty. I was on the South Downs.”

“Really, the South Downs, all day?”

“I just came back off the Downs through Forestside, Aldsworth and Westbourne.”

“So you were on the Downs all day?” Mum unfortunately didn’t get distracted by Rachel’s initial attempt to deflect.

“Of course not I only left in the afternoon and went to Havant first. I had some chips and scraps in Havant, and from Havant I went north through Durrants and Rowling castle.”

“So on this epic bike tour where would you be around one to two o’clock.”

“I think about both one and two o’clock I was in Havant.”

“You spent an hour just sitting in Havant?”

“No I said I got chips and scraps from Havant. So I would be eating those around that time and I cycled out of Havant to be away from the busy town center.”

“Can you explain why Misses Young says the Collins saw you on Hayling Island beach around one-thirty then?”

“Misses Young, as in Sally’s teacher?”

“That’s the one. Mister Collins is her brother. He was with his wife watching their daughter sailing in the regatta off Hayling Island Beach.”

“Shi… …ps sailing around Hayling Island?”

Rachel’s Mum looked to let her know she hadn’t gotten away with that one either but was concentrating on what she was most unhappy about first. “Of course there are very few girls in Hampshire that skip two years of primary school.You’re the only child to do it in our primary’s history as a school, so when Mister Collins rang his sister, she easily identified who the girl was and later called me. A girl who admitted to the Collins she isn’t allowed to cross the A27, when she had to have done so in order to be where she was, and has a Father in the Royal Navy.

“Put your bike away in the shed properly and then we will talk young lady. I don’t think you’ve done any piano practice recently. There’ve been only your rough clothes in the laundry.” Rachel’s mum informed her.

Rachel wished she’d remembered the warning to not talk to strangers sooner. She was so grounded. Worse it would appear piano torture was going to be increased.

Rachel starts questioning her current predicament and decides to be more active in ensuring she does what she wants to do. The devil may care attitude is bound to have consequences.

Rachel was in the women’s loo at Warblington train station franticly unbraiding and getting the ribbons out of her hair before school this Monday morning. Hopefully she wouldn’t be late. Glenda would probably rat her out, but hopefully that would make her Mother realize how badly she didn’t want to go to school with a girly hair style. It’s not like her Mother could add any more punishment on her. With luck Mother won’t bother trying with this tomorrow.

She’d already been informed she would be forced into a dress after getting home from school every day and even worse have to wear dresses all of the day during the weekends and none school days for a month. Where previously she could after school change into jeans and tee after removing her uniform she would now be wearing a dress. At least the girls wore the same blue shirt with tie the boys did. In primary the girls’ uniform included a thin blouse and ribbon. It was depressing that her school uniform was now the least girly she could dress in. Especially upsetting as said least girlish outfit included tights and a knee length black skirt. Summer half term started on Friday and for the first time Rachel was not looking forward to the break from school and being able to not wear her school uniform.

She would have undone her hair on the train ride but Dad caught the same train and so was with them this morning. Since he started working at the M.O.D. in Whitehall, Dad spent the week living in the town house he rented in Chelsea, London. Unfortunately, this Monday was one of those rare Mondays that he caught the same train as them and thus the frantic trip to the train station’s loo once off the train and away from her Father. Quickly brushing her hair as best she could she then left to run for school. The hour or so of it being braided caused it to have more volume than she liked.

Rachel was late to her first class, but thankfully the teacher, Misses Paul, was later. “Did you miss the train Rach?” John asked. Uh, she hated the nick name he’d saddled her with. Of course it was quickly twisted by the petty girls to ‘Roach’ and worse too.

“Nope my Mother did some crazy Heidi braiding thing with my hair with flipping ribbons. It took ages to get the bloody thing out.”

“Oh, you should have kept it in Rach, I bet you’d have looked real pretty.” John annoyingly offered.

“Okay class, I was running late but you could have got started. You know we are working on King Lear.” Misses Paul arrived to stop Rachel from telling John to sod off. The teacher was obviously not happy at the noise the class made while everyone discussed their weekends rather than working on English lit.

It had been odd arriving at secondary and finding she had two classes of English right away. She’d thought it wasn’t until third year in her last life that English got doubled with ‘lang’ and ‘lit’ classes and two teachers.

“Let’s see, I gave you an assignment to read over the weekend. Mister Harris what did Goneril say when asked by King Lear how much she loved him?”

The class began and the initial interest Rachel gave was slowly sapped due to hearing her classmates stumble over one of the easier Shakespeare tragedies. She didn’t mean to be condescending, but really it’s not rocket science. It’s a pretty simple tale of spoilt king having a fatal flaw of pride and arrogance giving everything to his two serpent tongued sycophant daughters that stroked his ego while casting out his previously favorite good daughter that refused to play ball, but actually loved him.

“Are we boring you Miss Stillman?” Rachel was suddenly brought back to the class by the teacher’s question and stifled titters.

“I’m sorry Misses Paul?”

“What do you think?”

“The play is a lesson on how you can’t describe or buy love. If you give everything for flattery you will then find what the person really thinks of you when you have nothing left to give. Most likely you will find out things you don’t want to know. Someone who truly loves you is more likely to be honest and not pander to pumping up your pride and enabling your arrogance. Arrogance is King Lear’s fatal flaw, and blinds him to his third daughter’s true love. It’s a tragedy as the lesson is learnt at the cost of his own life after madness and grief, caused by being imprisoned and his good daughter being murdered. Well actually all his daughters die but no one really cares for the two evil daughters, it’s more to emphasize that he left nothing of himself, even the evil daughters are gone when he dies.” Rachel replied.

“Well, Miss Stillman seems to have completed the whole play verses the first half that was assigned for mid-terms. Though she provides a succinct and correct summary of the entire play to the class she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, it would be nicer if she had answered the question I asked. Miss Stillman, I had asked you about salt’s relevance as a comparison based on its use and availability at the time the play is written.”

Thankfully the end of class bell rang allowing Rachel’s escape from being caught daydreaming. “I am sure you can expect a question about the salt among other things on your midterm, which I believe is first thing Wednesday. So either read the play to be ready for the exam, or annoy Miss Stillman for the answers.” Was Misses Paul’s method of punishing Rachel even though the class was over.

“Watch it pancakes!” The words and the backs of two second form girls swiftly leaving were all Rachel got looking up from the hall floor she’d been tripped onto. She quickly grabbed her books that had spilled out and held in a sigh of frustration. Why did kids have to be so …childish! Straightening her skirt she carried onto Maths.

Rachel didn’t have any friends in this class. Well though she treated John as a friend it was obvious he was playing the long game of hoping to get a girlfriend as opposed to a friend that was a girl, but she didn’t really have the choice to be picky. She ignored the group of girls obviously nattering on about her fall earlier by thinking how empty their lives must be to find interest in her bullying. Was oblivion better than re-living secondary school?

It wasn’t this bad last time was it? She thought it was boys that got bullied and it wasn’t the physical that was the worst of it. So perhaps girls actually had it worse suffering both physical and emotional abuse. Even now there was the constant whispering, and sudden silences and jeers that as a girl she now suffered. With Maths over she headed onto history.

“It probably deliberately fell over to look up Maria’s skirt.” The muffled giggles wafted to her from the following four girls. “Well it is a lesbo.” “Pancakes probably jealous of her boobs.” The comments deliberately made loud enough for her to hear were followed by false shushing as they brushed past her into the class.

A sudden epiphany had Rachel realize that it wasn’t just because she was younger and due to a prior life, or whatever the weird memories were, smarter that caused jealousy to fuel the bullying, but last life or dream she was a boy acting as a boy. Now she was a girl avoiding the female stereotypes, and it caused the bullying to try to force her to conform. To act like the girl she now was. Society enabled bullies to vent on those that tried to not conform. What was the Japanese saying again? That was it, something like, ‘a nail that stood up must be pounded flat’. Well she was getting fed up of the pounding.

Mister Black had a tenuous control of his class and it showed as they were far behind the syllabus that needed covering in the first form. They hadn’t even started on the Romans which they should have already finished to allow beginning to teach about the Anglo Saxons and Vikings after half term. As her classmates turned to discuss the latest tv drama or new song and Mister Black droned on about typical village life during the Iron Age, Rachel read the text book. He had barely covered a third of the material. Heck he hadn’t even given the timeline overview how the Bronze age slipped into this new age around 800 BC and to hint how the Iron Age was considered over with the Roman invasion of 43 AD to help the students grasp the big picture. Mid-terms started tomorrow afternoon and if the exam in December was any indication to the one before summer half term. Then the questions would be on several topics not covered. December’s exam had been on the Stone and Bronze Ages, but he hadn’t started teaching about the Bronze Age until February.

“Any question on last weekend’s reading assignment and homework?” When no one replied Mister Black tried again. “Class I have asked multiple times every Monday, and no one has raised an issue with the reading. So I take it you’re all comfortable with everything assigned.” Though a few fools adamantly ignored the teacher, most had woken to the concern that something critical was about to or had been said.

“Leave your home on my desk as you leave, and as I don’t have you this week ‘till your History mid-term on Thursday before lunch this is our last lesson before the break. The questions in the exam will be from class, the homework and reading assignments that you had no questions on.” Mister Black just confirmed Rachel’s guess. As the fools started to leave as soon as he said ‘…as you leave’ it was questionable how many heard him or realized the exam would be heavily on material not taught. He’d used the same excuse in the fall term exam when the class complained about the questions. Well she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for the bell. It meant a bully free trip to her next class too, she slowly got packed up, and placed her homework on the pile after everyone else had left and thus ensured it wasn’t removed from the pile.

~o~O~o~

Rachel and the several students still with her from History class stood outside the Geography class waiting for the bell to ring and the current class to leave. She and another stood alone while the rest bunched in a girl and two smaller boy groups. Glancing at the other alone figure she stopped herself from trying to talk to him realizing it was a worthless idea. She’d actually tried to talk to him before. However, Mike definitely believed that he should use anything offered to spring board himself into the cool kids group. Unfortunately, for both that meant he rudely shot her down on her prior overtures of friendship. She wasn’t going to invite being called an ugly loser, or a baby toddler again. It took weeks for the other girls to drop using those names all the time.

She was thus surprised when Amanda L. addressed her. “So what is going to be on the exam that Black hasn’t taught us?”

“The exam’s scope is the history from about 2500BC to 700AD. The Roman Invasion, about three hundred years of initial Anglo Saxon civilization and everything else about the Iron Age are what hasn’t been taught. You don’t have to worry about the Vikings as that starts around 800 AD.”

“Would you be interested in coming to my house any evening to help me with studying?”

“I can’t. I just got grounded for a month.”

“But half term starts…

Michelle cut Amanda off. “What did you do?”

“Come on this is ‘Little Miss Genius’. You really think she has ever got grounded for a week, and we’re supposed to think she gets grounded for a month? You can tell she’s never got punished, as she states such obvious lies.” Sarah opined.

“I cycled beyond a known boundary I had previously agreed upon, and initially lied by obfuscation when questioned last weekend.” Rachel decided to nip the comments before they became more hostile. She had been about to make a friend maybe. Well it was more likely she was about to be used but it could have started a friendship.

“What the hell is obfuscation?” Sarah asked.

“It’s like muddying the water. I twisted the question in my reply so I could be truthful in what I said while not actually answering it. The idea is to tell the truth and still avoid getting in trouble. The other person thinks you said ‘A’. If they find out later it is actually ‘B’ and challenge you for lying you repeat what you actually said and show you actually never said ‘A’, they inferred that.

“Well with a month’s grounding, I think I’ll stick with plain old lying and a spanked backside.” Sarah’s comment caused a few laughs until the end of period bell rang. After the class emptied they were allowed in.

Rachel was extremely surprised when Sarah stopped Cathy and Maria from knocking her lunch tray from her. “It’s so pathetic when the only thing stupid thirteen year olds can do to a ten year old that is smarter than them is act like dumb beasts.”

“The girl that was held back a year calls us dumb…

“Yeah, just think how dumb you must be if even stupid me thinks you lack a brain between the both of you.” Sarah riposte and cut them off. Rachel was still trying to work out what happened as Sarah led her to her usual table. “Ally scoot down Rachel’s sitting here.”

Lunch and her two afternoon classes she shared with Sarah were surreal. She wanted to hope she had a friend but really Sarah Parker was likely the last person she ever thought could become her friend so she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sarah was actually in seven of her eight classes so was actually a good candidate for a friend if she wasn’t being set up.

She did note that Sarah leaned heavily on her knowledge in the General Science class after lunch, which though not Rachel’s strength, having memories, or dreams of memories covering over twenty years working for a medical company that dealt heavily in microbiology and organic chemistry made only the physics parts be a weak spot for Rachel in the General Science class. Rachel had to be leery of the information as it not only was wrong at times but had got her a demerit with report sent to her parents when she once leaned on it exclusively.

That class over meant there was only the last class prior to exams and half term. Just when she thought the friendship from Sarah might be for using her prior to the mid-terms she found in their last lesson that Sarah was fluent in French and actually liked helping her with a prior tough subject. She decided to be careful. The last thing she wanted was to find herself relaxed in a believed friendship when the other shoe finally fell. Hopefully she would be invited to sit with Sarah for lunch tomorrow, and hopefully her paranoia was for once undeserved, and she was finally getting the chance at friendship?

Rachel has become fed up on how she is treated and is preparing to stand up for herself. As she concludes that the latest punishment, by being too much actually has empowered her, her Mother is feeling weaker especially with Dad away in London for the week, and worried her child is going to succeed in disrupting her tenuous grip of power. The dichotomy of beliefs in their powers is setting for a storm to rage through the family.

Sarah’s train to Havant pulled out from the opposite platform leaving Rachel with Glenda and the students travelling east. “What will you give me to fix your hair and not tell Mum you pulled the braids out before school?” Glenda interrupted, Rachel’s thinking with her mercenary ones to profit off Rachel.

“Nothing, Mother will see when I come home like this. There’s nothing more she can do. Mother has lost.” Rachel calmly declared, while shuffling feet waiting for their train. An express rattled through on its way to Brighton, but not stopping at the little station halts, like Warblington and Emsworth were. Then finally nearly fifteen minutes later a slow train arrived. It took only a few minutes and they were at the next stop east in Emsworth debarking the train where their Mother was waiting having picked Sally up from the primary school already.

They had barely left the station and Mother was after Rachel like an attack dog. “Did you lose the ribbons?”

“Nope took them out before school, there in my book bag.”

“What is this? Are you not going to lie this time? Not going to say you wore them to school, because you realized that someone might tell me the truth.”

“I didn’t lie on Saturday, and I told you this morning that I wasn’t going to school with that hairstyle.”

“And I told you, young lady, this morning that you wouldn’t like what happens if you didn’t wear them to school.”

“What are you going to do Mother? Ruin my half-term, Ground me for a month? Oh, too late, you already did that. Yes, there’s nothing more you can do. Are you going to ground me ‘till I’m sixteen and I can leave your miserable presence? There’s no punishment left because you went crazy punishing me when I hadn’t lied. I have no respect for you, because you can’t admit when you are wrong. Mother, you, have, lost!” Rachel gleefully stressed each word enjoying how her wide grin was driving her Mother mad.

“Just you wait ‘till you get home young lady. I can do so much more to you and you’ll be sorry you were so rude and disrespectful to your Mum. You think you can misbehave just because your Dad’s not here well you will be sorry.”

“You’re not my Mum, Mother!” Rachel yelled, sullenly walking home quickly hoping to get this over with. She knew her Mother couldn’t spank her as her Mother had hurt her own hand to her daughter’s laughing face last time she’d tried that punishment. Now Dad could spank but he was away for the week. So she just had to break her Mother and hopefully she would finally see that her daughter was right.

Rachel was mildly concerned when she realized her Mother was going to take her slipper to her bare bum. However, she wasn’t going to let her Mother see fear. The first smack stung like a dozen hornets, and she laughed while digging her nails into her hands at her sides. Thwack after thwack fell upon her rear. She just kept holding her body rigid to not let out any pain show, and kept laughing, hoping her Mother wouldn’t notice it was forced.

Rachel was thankful when she heard her Mother start to pant. “When are you going to actually hit me?” She taunted. Glenda looked at her incredulously and her Mother went wild. It had to be a last effort so Rachel laughed through the pain figuring it would be over soon. “I didn’t lie.” Thwack “You can’t accept being wrong.” Thwack “So you try to attack me.” Thwack “You’re a useless housewife.” Thwack “Can’t do anything without her man.” Thwack “I won’t be a pretty trophy for some Neanderthal pig.”

Rachel was surprised she hadn’t got two more hits during the last taunt but her Mother was heaving she was so out of energy. However, she looked rather wild and crazy. She threw the slipper. It nearly accidently hit Sally, who was peering into the Master bedroom with tears in her eyes. “What’s next Mother, or can you finally admit you are wrong?”

Next was apparently a belt from her Dad’s closet. Hopefully, she didn’t have enough energy left to do too much damage. Well Rachel figured she had to not break now, or all she had endured so far would have been a wasted effort. But, Gods the belt really stung! “I am right!” she found the chant soothing and all she could handle between lashes. Finally a weeping Sally was able to beg Mum to stop. Rachel’s bottom was on fire. Her chant was and had been for the last few lashes internal because she’d had to grit her teeth to not let a sob out, but she made sure she kept telling herself that she was in the right.

“You can go to bed without tea. You will be sick tomorrow from school.”

“I have three exams tomorrow… that I am going to take, in school, tomorrow. If you think I am staying in this house, alone, with you; you really are dumb.” Rachel forced out with pure loathing. She had never hated her Mother before today. Forcing to not show pain she slowly walked to her bedroom. She didn’t care her bum was uncovered. She didn’t think she could take the pain of covering it. To hell with cleaning her teeth, she needed her bedroom.

Rachel found herself laughing and crying after she had closed her bedroom door and was finely able to relax her rigid holding in of her emotions. What she had found sort of funny was she realized that by being sent to bed early meant she didn’t have to wear a dress. She couldn’t stop herself from the hysterics that took over with that thought, and hearing the near mad laugh actually caused it to come out even more. She pulled the blanket and sheet back from her bed and hung her shirt up in the cupboard. Hopefully someone would hang her skirt up but she had a second in her closet if they didn’t. She wasn’t going to leave her room to get it or her underclothes.

She put on her pajama top after removing her camisole vest. She couldn’t handle the bottoms but she wasn’t wearing a nighty, and by just wearing the top she so wasn’t wearing anything like one. Collapsing onto her belly with her head turned to look at the door she went to sleep. Hopefully the house wouldn’t be too cold tonight, because she couldn’t pull the covers over herself. Just the thought of covering her bum gave her pain.

Knock. “Rachel?” Another knock. “Rachel, can I come in?” Glenda asked.

“No.” Rachel groaned annoyed to have been woken from a sleep that had allowed her to escape.

“I’ve brought you some tea to eat.”

“I’m not allowed it, and not eating it. Go away I was asleep.”

“Mum let me bring it. She’s crying downstairs.”

“Good.”

“I’m coming in anyway.” Glenda opened the door.

“I said go away. I won’t eat it.” Rachel opened her eyes and glared at her older sister, and hoping to intimidate her into leaving.

“Well I’ll just leave it here. Mum is really sorry. Why did you act so badly? I’ve never seen you so misbehave. Mum’s actually shaking and crying. I’m scared.”

“I didn’t misbehave, nor act badly. I stood up for my rights. I haven’t done anything wrong, but Mother has, and she won’t accept she is in the wrong. I am happy to hear she is crying. She should be after what she did. She is wrong. I am right.”

“Please Rachel. She’s Mum. Mum isn’t wrong.”

“She was and is and keeps on doing more wrong because she refuses to accept she was wrong in the first place.”

“I’m scared Rachel. Oh, my God your bottom looks bad!”

“I’m going to sleep. Take the food away Glenda.” Rachel rolled her head to face away from her sister she didn’t want her to see her tears. “Go Glenda, and take the food away!” Being informed of how bad her bottom looked made her aware of the pain that had ebbed into a nice numb oblivion before her sister came. She hoped she could sit tomorrow for her exams.

When Rachel next woke and found her clock showed it to be nearly four in the morning. The plate of food was still beside the clock. Pulling back from the initial idea to throw it in the dustbin she realized it could be breakfast and she could leave for the ten to five train her Dad often catches. That way her Mother couldn’t stop her going to school, as she’d have already gone.

The first thing she found while dressing was she couldn’t take the elastic of her knickers on her backside. Thankfully her tights rode up higher on her body and didn’t have the elastic band that irritated her sore skin pushing in over some of the higher welts. She felt naughty leaving the house before her Mother had awoken and also for not having knickers on, but blamed her Mother for having to do so. She’d tried them over the tights but she’d rather not wear them than take the pain. Rachel had left a note. She nearly didn’t, but recalling Glenda saying several times that she was scared, and Sally begging her Mother to stop she wrote the note to her sisters. She’d gone upstairs to the attic and was wondering whose room to put it in. Thankfully she didn’t have to worry as she found Sally clinging to Glenda so left it beside the bed both were in. Of course in her rush to find a pen to write the note she'd only found her Dad's green* pens.

~o~O~o~

{Highlight if needed to read letter}

Dear Sally and Glenda I am sorry if Mother scared you last night. She is wrong and when someone is wrong the person in the right must stand up to them. This has happened throughout history and martyrs have been stoned to death by bitter empowered bullies that believe just because it was done this way in the past it should still be done so even when wrong. Women that dared to learn and stand up to men were tied to stools and dunked into rivers for being witches with no trial, or a mockery of one. After some time they were pulled back up out of the water and if still alive they were obviously witches, and thus burnt to death. Even though my backside is sore I will take my exams because they are more important to me than anything Mother says, like wearing dresses and having hair in a style I dislike. I loved taking piano lessons with Grandma in my jeans and tee-shirt. Mother and Misses Fowler have ruined the piano for me with their crazy beliefs of what a woman must wear to play the piano. A woman can wear whatever she likes. Soon schools will allow them to wear trousers if they want. I will go straight to bed tomorrow to avoid wearing clothes I despise, and to skip my piano lesson that comes with a woman that is nasty, petty and vindictive. Piano can go hang. I blame Misses Fowler for turning Mother against me; I never thought I could hate my own mother before yesterday. My bum is sore; don’t tell Mother, she mustn’t know she caused me to be sore. It is actually so sore I can’t wear knickers. I hope I’m not found out at school especially as with how badly my bum looks, Mother could go to jail. She belongs in jail, but you two would get hurt if I tattled on the stupid cow, so as long as she ignores me I’ll ignore her until I’m sixteen and can leave this hell behind. I also hope I can sit to take the exams. I’ve not managed to sit yet. Just let Mother know I caught the train Dad normally catches so I can get to school and take my exams. See you at lunch Glenda, and after school Sally. Hopefully, Mother will admit being wrong but even if not, don’t be scared or worried. I will stand for what is right and even if my bum is sore, Mother can never hurt me.
Your Sister, Rachel.

~o~O~o~

Rachel was fairly sure her sisters would share the letter with Mum. It should scare their Mother into inaction. There was the risk it would cause her Mother to go crazy, and that might be the death of Rachel, but she hoped she was right in thinking it would cause her Mother to be too scared to do anything more to hurt her. She was fairly sure she wouldn’t get kicked out of home especially while her rear had the markings of having been hit repeatedly by belt and slipper.

The night was cold even though it was late May, and the breeze went right up Rachel’s skirt and actually soothed her bum while freezing her body.The predawn sky was in twilight dark blues and purples of just before the sun rises. She’d left her book bag as she only needed a few pencils and pens that easily fit in her handbag. Not wanting to miss the train she briskly walked along the footpath to the station pulling her blazer close, as if that helped stop where the wind was stealing her heat from. She was initially glad when she got onto the platform that had a nice spattering of daily commuters.

Rachel had been going on bravado and posturing so having a moment to calm down and with several men that all smiled at her, she suddenly thought about the fact she had on no knickers. It was odd she’d hated having to wear them as they were so thin and flimsy compared to boy’s boxers or ‘y’ fronts that they appeared to be no barrier. However, somehow not having them felt a thousand times worse. How could flimsy knickers be a barrier offering protection? Must be some kind of brain washing, Rachel’s thoughts questioned?

-*- Green ink in the Royal Navy is allowed for XO rank officer, normally this is the rank of Commander, unless on a submarine where the XO is often a Lieutenant Commander. Red ink is for CO rank and higher thus Captain and Admirals (or Commander on subs), blue ink is for CMC rank (E9) and black ink for other ranks

Rachel's first day of Summer Midterms looks like she could be making a friend at last. Well as long as one of her relatives doesn't mess everything up at least.

The school was a bit scary with no sign of life. She decided to wait in the shadows of the bike shelters. She felt safer being in the darkest corner able to look out and see if something approached verses imagining something was in those shadows about to jump out at her. Her bum wouldn’t let her sit on the concrete steps or lean it against the rail of the bike racks. Squatting also likely due to it pulling her skin taut was not something she was going to attempt again anytime soon. She alternated from standing and leaning herself forward at the waist against the bar of the bike rack. Unfortunately as timed ticked by and her legs grew tied she found herself increasingly cat napping by draping her upper body along the bike rack to take weight off her feet.

Rachel had chosen to wait in the darkest area so there wasn’t a darker area she could be scared of. Unfortunately she’d forgotten Miss Thompson rides into the school. She’d been fitfully dozing when she heard a noise and saw Miss Thompson locking up her bike a few aisles over beneath the pool one of the lights threw toward the bike racks. She stretched in anticipation of getting into the school and caused Miss Thompson to panic and shriek.

“Who’s there! Mister Browne is right behind me.”

“It’s Rachel Stillman, Miss.” Rachel quickly called out while walking toward the light from the school building verses heading directly toward an obviously startled young teacher, who had backed to place the racks between herself and the noise.

“Why, are you here so early and what were you doing in the dark? Is someone else in there?”

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t rushed before midterms and hadn’t realized the school would be locked up still. Finding it a bit scary when I arrived alone, I felt safer in the dark so nothing could startle me coming out of it.

“Well let’s both get into the school building I have the keys to unlock it.” Miss Thompson made several looks at the dark area Rachel had come out of, to ensure she heard nothing else and mentally noted to request getting a few extra outside lights installed.

“You know you might have sounded more truthful if you said Mister Johnston was right behind you. He actually is known to arrive in the early mornings and would likely be a more intimidating opponent.” Rachel said after they entered the school.

“What’s wrong with Mister Browne?” Miss Thompson asked and the bite in the question and her slight flush as if ready to get angry warned Rachel to tread carefully. Perhaps Miss Thompson was interested in Mister Browne.

“The main problem is as he doesn’t have any class scheduled before ten thirty he is not known to get to the school ever before ten.” She held back that at barely five and half feet and likely not even nine stone soaking wet, he wasn’t exactly a physical he-man. Aside Miss Young at barely five feet and a good bit under seven stone most of the female staff were more of a he-man that Mister Browne. In fact Miss Thompson herself was likely heavier, she had a couple of inches on his height even if she didn't out muscle him.

“Doesn’t your Dad have a BS in Physics?”

“He actually has got his Masters in Physics. Got it three years ago.”

“From Cambridge, like Mister Browne’s Bachelors? He went to Cavendish Laboratory when he studied at Cambridge.” Yes, Rachel thought, it seems Miss Thompson has a candle lit or at the least has an infatuation over Mister Browne.

“Nope he studied his Masters at University in California.” Rachel carefully explained in a way to avoid the current anti military attitude that had been driven home by the Collins on the weekend. She wanted to avoid stating it was the Monterey Naval Post Graduate School. Three years ago it was good to boast but with the targeting of military personnel and their families with car bombs when off duty it had led to an anti-military sentiment recently causing her to shy away from mentioning it again. Her Mother had reminded her last weekend that she was far too loose lipped to a complete stranger with private information. She could still recall her Mother going to the trite saying, ‘…loose lips sink ships.’ Well she was not going to get in more trouble for not being close lipped.

“U.C. Berkeley?” It seemed Miss Thompson wasn’t letting go.

“That’s where I plan to study Organic Chemistry. The University of California, Berkeley here I come.” Rachel figured it was the best way to muddy the water and change the subject.

“You want to go into the oil or plastic industries?”

“It is also increasingly useful in the medical field a large number of pharmaceutical companies and medical device companies need organic chemists.”

“Well I’ll leave you to study in your first exam’s class room.” Miss Thompson said before taking off for the staff room.

Rachel set to studying for the Maths exam. Her memories of Geoff’s life into his forties removed this previous Achilles heel, making French her now least favorite subject. Even though this time through she was more skilled at Maths, it wasn't plain sailing. Out of it, Art and Geography that made today’s schedule of exams, Maths was the one that needed studying. Not just because it was the first exam today, it was still the weakest of those three, and could trip her up if she wasn’t being careful.

Last life or the memories she had of a last life had her unable to study in sixth form for her A-levels as she failed Maths. At the time she thought it unfair that though you only needed five O-levels to carry on in school, there were three required subjects. Namely, English Language, Maths and a Science. She’d got nine O-levels, six with a grade of ‘A’ and both Biology and General Science covered the Science requirement twice over. However, failing French, Chemistry, Physics and more specifically Maths barred him from the sixth form college she was all set to study Drama, History and English Literature at. None of her chosen subjects needing any Mathematics, but access to them denied due to some stupid rule.

Her parents wanted him to go back to secondary school for ‘5R’, the repeat of fifth form and retake the four O-levels he failed. It was the first time in that life she had problems with his parents. Prior to that, mainly as she did what they told him to do; she had no issues with them. It was the beginning of the end of having a relationship with her family last time. Geoffrey had refused to return to secondary school saying he would learn more coming out to California with his parents. If he had only known his parents’ plan.

So while his sister, Glenda, prepared for her second year at University, Geoffrey had got acceptance from his parents on other plans. Namely he would travel with his parents to California. There he was planning to get a job to pay for trying his hand at surfing the Californian beaches in summer, and skiing the Sierra Nevada’s in the winter. He hadn’t realized that his parents kept one fact secret about living in the US of A.

His parents hadn’t informed him that unlike compulsory education ending at sixteen in the UK, in the US, parents were empowered with making high schools compulsory ‘til eighteen. They lied and let him think he would be working and learning to surf and ski, when they had submitted the paperwork to force him into a high school in the US. Something he could chose to ignore if he’d stayed behind in the UK.

Further, being the US system, it wasn’t set up for him to work on his four failed O’ levels but forced him into restudying subjects he had already passed at high school level. In addition, only two of the failed subjects were even offered. He was given two years of a completely new language, Spanish to replace the failed French. His parents refusal to see it as his time being wasted, was the final nail that had him find ways to stay in the US when his parents left. Getting an international student grant while still having seven years of the NATO dependent visa, that counted him a Californian resident helped pay for his Berkeley degree and provided for living expenses. He would not need his parents any more.

Perhaps initially his parents use of the new countries laws allowed them to regain control of their rebellious son that dared to not follow the plan they decided he should follow. However, he was looking for ways to get out from being controlled. He wasn't returning to resit O' levels in the U.K. and then spend two more years in sixth form college, and then finally three at University. All dependent on his parents. As for missing his relatives back home well likely his sister, Uncles and Aunts were aware of the age delta, and none thought they should warn Geoffrey of what his parents had planned when he followed them state side.

“Hey Rachel, I’m glad you’re here early for a change. Can we study for Maths together?” Sarah sat down beside Rachel and got her Maths book out. Rachel had wanted to ask her how come she was here so early but as she didn’t want to explain why she was, decided to dive into studying Maths for the exam in forty minutes.

-~ooO0o~-

Rachel’s Art class and her second exam was next door to Sarah’s music class so they were walking to their respective second exams discussing the Maths exam that both of them seemed to have done fairly well on. Not only was Rachel not getting jostled, but there was no overly loud whispered insults and giggling going on to make fun of Rachel. “See you after the exam, Rachel. Do you think we can spend some of lunch studying for tomorrows English lit and General Science exams?”

“Sure, sounds good, Sarah and best of luck with your clarinet exam.” Rachel replied as they split between their two classrooms.

Rachel got to work sketching the still life of a partially opened lantern with previously lit and half burned candle inside. In front and partially blocking the open lantern door was a wicker basket bowl of fruit. Trying to capture the differing shades of the previously burned wick and dripped wax of the candle top, along with the cooled runs of wax down the outside of the candle Rachel lost herself to her drawing. Capturing the shadows between the fruits and from the lantern to the desk that both were resting on she calmly rubbed her 6B, 2B, F and 4H pencils to her growing picture of the posed scene.

“Fifteen minutes.” Miss Wheel warned the students of the time left ‘till the end of the exam. Some frantically tried to increase speed. Those that had a more measured approach to the exam continued at the same pace, not wanting to mess up by rushing the sketch. Rachel was primarily working on the shading with the 2B and 6B softer pencils. The fine details of exact lines had all been done with the two harder pencils. She glanced around and noticed that she had sized the still life correctly to fill the sheet of A2 paper unlike several others, without making it too large, such that part of the assembled items couldn’t be completely drawn on the page. She could only see one that had been drawn too large. Well more like poor placement on the page.The intricate detail of the top of the lantern was lost as the top of the page cut off the lantern lid. However, there were quite a few classmates that had made the image too small. The most extreme one drawn as if they’d been given standard A4 paper to draw upon, not the four times larger A2.

Rachel put the 2B pencil down and carefully looked at the still life and her drawing of it, back and fro. She found she did this part of the drawing best without a pencil in her hand itching to be stroked against the page. This point where she knows she is ninety five percent or more completed is dangerous for her to damage her own picture thus the doing it without pencil in hand to ensure she doesn’t accidentally add shading where it isn’t really needed, or use the wrong lead. Only after triple checking that something really is missing does she pick up the needed pencil to add the missing detail.

“Five minutes.”

Rachel had spent the prior couple of minutes making no change. Just looking back and forth between the two in each area and ensuring she didn’t feel anything was missing. She kept this up until the exam was called and she popped her pencils into her handbag. As she had already put her name on her sketch she didn’t need to add one when the teacher reminded the students of the need. She waited to be the last to leave as she didn’t trust her classmates to not damage her work.

“Rachel, you not ready.” Sarah called into the classroom. Obviously seeing her sitting without doing anything.

“Just waiting for everyone to leave.”

“Well can’t you come out now?” Sarah asked.

“Nope, Darlene, Paula and Louise haven’t left the room yet.” Rachel said.

“Hey are you saying we would sabotage your work…

“Paula, if the shoe fits wear it.” Rachel informed, knowing Paula and Darlene had damaged an exam of hers last fall, and Louise was their friend.

“All four of you can leave together while I watch all your pictures to ensure we don’t have the problems we had in the fall.” Miss Wheel quickly diverted the three girls from trying to head over toward Rachel’s drawing. Seeing Darlene about to speak up, Miss Wheel continued. “Leave with your mouth closed Darlene, or I will give you zero, the more you and your friends try to state your innocence the less I believe you. Stop while ahead and know I am watching you three like a hawk.”

As we went to lunch Sarah glared at the other three and they chose to not accuse me of getting them in trouble and hurried off ahead. “What was that about?” Sarah asked.

“Fall's final exam I returned to get a book I’d left in the art class to find Darlene and Paula each holding half my picture. They dropped the two halves on the floor and Paula stood on part of one. That actually enabled me to prove she did it as the foot print matched her shoe. Plus her shoe still had paint on the edge.”

“You should take music with me.”

“I’m good and like art, and I ha…,” Rachel, not wanting to alienate her possible ‘friend?’ quickly changed what she was saying. “… am not as good at music.” Rachel offered and then they both joined the line for lunch.

Lunch was spent discussing tomorrow morning’s exams of English Literature and General Science, with a tiny helping of this afternoon’s Geography. Oh, and some time on actually eating too. Several girls chimed in on the impromptu study session and Rachel enjoyed belonging to a group. Sure some of these girls, including Sarah had said some nasty things about and to her before, but now thanks to Sarah seeming to change her attitude on how she thought of her, Rachel found herself accepted as she never thought she would be.

“Rachel?”

Rachel looked up to see her big sister staring at her from across the table. She rose an eyebrow and around her the girl’s stopped talking to see what was about to happen. Glenda had done some wicked cruel things to Rachel earlier this year.

“Mum was frantic crying, and worried this morning when she couldn’t find you.”

“I left you and Sally a note so you could let her know I’d caught the earlier train into school.”

“Ten to five is ‘not’ the earlier train to school. Mum demanded we give her your letter. She rang Grandma and read it verbatim to her on the phone. Why would you say you could send Mum to prison?”

“Because she is wrong and what she did last night means I can.”

“Mum is not wrong, she is Mum.”

“Glenda, what Mother did is against... She is wrong. A Mum isn’t right just because she’s Mum, and Mother is not my Mum. A Mum loves and cares for their child. Mother does not care and love me, and I hate her. Anyway this conversation is over, unless you have something different to talk about.” The dynamic between the two sisters had changed. Glenda was the one who’s slumped unsure posture appeared while standing, smaller than the sitting younger girl she towered over.

The children in the cafeteria were all staring at the two sisters and a new wave of rumors began flying around the school. Well Rachel wondered if she was about to be the social pariah once more. It had been nice having almost friends for a while.

A tale of egg cups or the lack thereof - well that is likely completely incidental to the story

Rachel thought she had done well on the Geography exam. However, she found her worries about what she was traveling back to; at home, swallow her thoughts on the exam and the questions as soon as she left the class room. Sarah was peppering her with possible questions and answers for the English literature and General Science exams tomorrow morning and her numb worry meant she was replying in automatic while paying as minimal amount of concentration on their conversation as possible.

“Miss Stillman, into the office please.” Misses Thatcher interrupted the two girls that were walking aside the front offices prior to exiting the school. “Miss Parker, I believe you have a Havant train to catch.” She continued to split the girls apart.

“Take a seat Rachel.” Misses Thatcher told her as she continued round her desk. Rachel gingerly sat down. “How did your exams go today?”

“Fine.” Rachel said not offering anything to further that conversation, while hoping to get out of the Student Support and Wellbeing Manager’s office. When she had thought that having Glenda air their home troubles in the cafeteria she had only thought on how the other students would behave toward her. Misses Thatcher hadn’t before been interested in how Rachel was surviving the bullying. Of course now there was muck to stir she was in the thick of it. ‘Bloomin problem loving busybody’ Rachel thought while trying not to glare at the waste of air.

“Which of your three exams did you do best on and what problems did you have with the one that was most difficult?”

“I’m happy with how I did in Art, Geography and Maths. None gave me any major problems.” Rachel sweetly offered as close to nothing as she could.

“Well of course with how talented you are, having been promoted twice into a higher year. You likely don’t have problems with school. It is my job to help students with problems though, and if I can’t help you with school problems. Can I help with problems outside of school?”

“I’m fine Misses Thatcher. Not a single problem I need your help with. I really do need to catch…”

“Well Miss Stillman, I have a problem if you don’t have a problem…”

Rachel figured if Misses bossy boots can interrupt her, she could interrupt too. “Sorry to hear that and hope you can work it out for yourself. I doubt I could be any help to you.” Lacing her words sugary sweet she hoped Misses Thatcher picked up on how useless she’d been in regards to curbing the bullying this school year.

“Oh we will work it out. Now I know your ‘Mum’. No, sorry, she is your ‘Mother’. Well it was heard by all… you telling everyone that she did something that is against the law…

“Misses Thatcher, hearsay and rumors are inadmissible. I did not say my Mother broke the law. It would appear typical school rumors have as usual provided you with false information.”

“Miss Stillman lets cut to the chase. I know your Mother did something illegal, and you can either tell me, so I can solve the problem, or I will be issuing you three demerits for being on school property outside of school hours, and another demerit for causing a disturbance in the cafeteria at lunch time.

Pushing back to her feet Rachel began working for the exit. Misses Thatcher obviously didn’t like that and called after her. “I’m talking to you!”

“I have said nothing that provides you with any right to inquire into my life. Give me any demerits you can prove I’ve earned…” Rachel said, wanting to add how useful she believed she was to the students, but wisely holding back, as she left the office. She was surprised to see Sarah had been waiting. “Come on, your Havant train leaves before mine.”

“Rachel, the door was left open and I was just outside the door.” Sarah offered, whether as an apology for hearing or an attempt to get Rachel to talk she was rather unsure. She had to jog as Rachel’s only response was to speed up even more toward the school’s exit. Thinking over the overheard conversation and how her aborted apology was ignored she tried to work out what she could do to help. The pregnant silence was smothering, and she knew though it might not be successful she had to try to find some way to help. She felt terrible at all the things she’d done and wondered if Rachel had even acknowledged her as a bully. It was weird to think that where she thought she had been a hotshot making fun of a girl three years her junior, she hadn’t even been acknowledged as a threat.

“Rachel, are you worried about home?” Sarah suddenly asked as they finally had slowed down to a fast walk along the footpath to the train station, having left the school property behind a while ago.

“Not really, there isn’t anything more my Mother can do. I bet if I go straight to bed, she’ll likely ignore me.”

“How about you spend the next two nights at my place you can help me study for Lit and G.S., and I’ll help you with French, our afternoon exam? We could tell Glenda that your exams are too important to be messed up and taking two nights away will give both you and your Mum time to calm down.”

Well Glenda took it as well as a person accepts the notification of less than three months left to live from a Doctor, but she couldn’t stop Rachel from catching the earlier train to Havant. Further, for all Sarah had surgested 'we' she'd quickly chivied Rachel to go to the other platform and let her take care of it. Rachel watched her older sister wringing her hands on the far platform through the train window. Rachel tried to not feel guilty about it as Glenda was left small and seemingly alone on the other platform than the one the Southampton bound train pulled away from.

Sarah glanced at hopefully her new friend looking out of the window and decided that a change of subject was best to get them learning about each other. Obviously, home, her mother and likely her sister were not good choices. Perhaps risking her greatest fear was best. “This is my last chance to recover my lost year.”

“Soz! Lost year? What’s that?” Rachel swung around trying to work out what Sarah was talking about. It made absolutely no sense.

“You know I repeated my last year of Primary, Rachel.” Sarah replied, not asking it as a question. At Rachel’s nod she continued. “Well I’ve talked with the school shrink and co. and if I don’t do well on these and the end of the year finals, I will not be allowed per my request to get back up into my form year.”

“What, so this year is the last chance to get promoted? No one’s ever told me that.”

“Well your sister and possibly you are the only exceptions to that rule from the rumors I’ve heard, but as O’ levels are based on the fourth- and fifth-year school work they like to have a solid buffer third year prior to the two years of material being taught.”

Rachel was wondering about the rumors about Glenda and herself but was able to work out Sarah was trying to skip second form of her Secondary education to get back with her age group. Obviously according to her words, they didn’t allow third form to be skipped and obviously skipping half the material the University’s exams would be based upon was not advisable.

“What’s Glenda got to do with school promotions?”

“Your sister complained that she refused to be in third form with you next year, so they mustn’t promote you again. She was told to buckle down and do well this year as if they felt you deserved another promotion, they would be giving it to you. So, unless she did well enough to be promoted into fourth form, she could have the last three years of Secondary School with you in the same form as her.”

“Sarah how do you know that, the staff aren’t going to blab those details?”

“The staff, no, but your sister when she’s pissed talking to her gossiping friends and the whole school will know fairly quickly. Further, they said that even if you didn’t do well enough for a promotion this year, they would still consider allowing you to skip your third year, thus except for possibly you and your sister apparently could be awarded, the ability to skip third form is not on the table for the rest of us.”

As the train pulled into Havant station the two of them checked they had their belongings and went toward the closest door to get off. They were joined by a fair number of Warblington Secondary kids coming the other direction toward their intended exit. Behind the jostling kids were a few adults that also were getting off the train here. With Sarah blocking, Rachel got the new experience of being the first kid to exit from a train doorway, when many kids are wanting to do so. Both flashed their student rail pass as they exited the platform.

Rachel seeing Peacocks after they left the station quickly checked her handbag and was glad she had enough emergency funds, and that she had made a point of maintaining said emergency funds to have them if something like this happened. “I need to grab a change of clothes, do you mind if I hit Peacocks?”

“They carry discount clothes they will be unlikely to have many second hand uniforms and doubtful in your size.”

“Can I quickly look?” Rachel replied not wanting to confess to her desire for underwear before their absence is found out. The store actually had several Warblington girl’s uniforms, but none anywhere near small enough to not drown Rachel, but they did have what she most needed so a few minutes later and a more relaxed Rachel exited the store with Sarah. The changing room had a mirror and Rachel had seen, what she had felt, her bum was nearly completely recovered.

“I’ve got to pick up my little brother from his friend’s house. Oh, and you can help me make tea. Mum and Dad don’t get home till gone six.”

“How old’s your brother?”

“Too young for you!”

“What no! I have zero interest in boys.” Rachel exclaimed working out what Sarah was teasing her about.

“Should I worry about my virtue, Miss Stillman?” Sarah, asked. Cackling at seeing her friend blush. “Come on, this way.” She took off running down a side street. With starting to run first and knowing where they needed to go, Sarah won their race. It also helped it was slightly downhill and only a few dozen yards. Any further and she would have been a wheezing mess.

However, for all Rachel’s legs were shorter it was likely only due to those helpful details that she won the race, and was not left in the dust. Sarah panted holding onto the gate catching her breath back while noticing Rachel was breathing completely normally. Unlike her labored rattling wheeze Rachel breathed as if they had not undertaken any physical activity. She wondered if the crazy practice of cycling on the South Downs was what enabled her to be more fit. Breath re-caught she opened the gate and led the way up the footpath to the front door.

“Who’s this?” Frank more demanded than asked of his big sister when he joined the two of them to head home.

“Rachel, meet my eight-year-old monster, Frank.”

“Hey there monster Frank.” Rachel said trying to ignore the fact that he was taller than she was. Gulp these Parkers obviously got the genes to grow tall.

“You eight too?”

“No, I’m in the same class as your sister.” Rachel didn’t want to say she was only ten, even if by saying what she had, emphasized her lack of height. Frank lost interest and turned away. Sarah smirked at how she’d avoided discussing age, but thankfully didn’t tease her. In order to avoid thoughts about age and height Rachel thought about getting to stay over at a friend’s house.

This life aside when they visited Kim and Anne in the next-door bungalow in Fareham, this would be her first time going to another, none relatives’, house. Both her sisters had made and visited friends. Maybe, if she had actually made a friend, she would be able to do this more often.

“Okay Frank, you can either watch TV or play in your bedroom. I’ll call you once we’ve made tea.”

“Can I have egg ‘n’ sol’jers?”

“Let me check we’ve enough eggs and bread.” Sarah replied. “This way to the kitchen. Oh, you can leave your handbag and blazer in the hall closet next to mine.” The TV blaring out the end of the ‘Magic Round About’ theme tune, and the narrator introducing Florence stumbling over a sleeping Dylan’s legs, blasted loudly through the open living room door. “Turn the volume knob below the marker, Frank. You know you can’t have it louder than Dad marked on the dial!” The volume dropped to reasonable level before Dylan responded to Florence’s question that Rachel had missed behind Sarah’s yell.

The kitchen was small and having the laundry basket sat in front of the washing machine didn’t do the room any favors. “Ah Mum wants me to do the laundry of course. She complains I get kicked back a year but gives me chores during exam time. Go figure.”

“If you’ve got an old shirt I can slum in tonight, I’m fine doing the laundry. I’d actually like to wash my uniform so I can have it clean for tomorrow.”

“You know how to do laundry?”

“I’ve done it before. It’s not exactly rocket science.” Rachel didn’t mention the before was memories of another life.

“Thought I was the only one that had to do it.” Sarah looked over at her friend diving into sorting their laundry basket and in order to not get humiliated stopped with her pity party. “I’ll grab you one of my old night shirts. You good with a boiled egg too? Oh, do you prefer the shirt to have an image of a girl with frilly dress and bonnet but also some huge gangster machine gun or a Smurfette style?”

“Egg will be perfect thanks and I think I can handle a few frills if I get a huge gun, but you’re going to have to explain what the heck the shirt is about.” Sarah nodded and left upstairs. Rachel started placing the coloureds into the washing machine. She’d add her skirt once she had her borrowed night shirt.

Said shirt went to her ankles and was a camel brown with pink rectangular frame at the front. Within the frame a girl wearing a puffy bonnet with a light brown fringe escaping and hiding her face stood sideways on, with a bulky gun at her hip, held in two dainty hands. The gun had the large circular magazine of the 1920’s Tommy gun style. In addition to sprigs of flowers and tufts of grass around the girl’s shod in unlaced bovver booted feet, were the words in flowing lilac font, ‘Precious Moments’. Rachel figured the gun covered for the otherwise way too sugary sweetness. Adding her skirt to the machine she started the wash. Her blouse could go with the whites in the next wash.

“So what’s the deal with ‘my precious’ here.” Rachel offered in Gollum’s voice.

“No idea about your weird voice but it has to do with Bonny and Clyde. I have a few figurines too in my room. But you do realize that your clothes will be wet tomorrow…

“I’ll hang them tonight over there, if that’s okay.” After getting Sarah’s tentative nod.“Then tomorrow morning I’ll run an iron over them. I’ve done it before.They’ll be fine.” Rachel suddenly thought that Gollum’s voice like the running an iron over a not quite dry shirt were of course from Geoff’s life and might not be true or a popular meme yet. Heck, memes weren’t referred as memes yet, if they ever would be, but worse was she right in recalling the iron trick working?

“If you say so. Any way can you make soldiers for Frank’s boiled egg?” Sarah asked as twisting so the Smurfette night shirt she’d changed into was noticed by Rachel.

“Just lightly toast and cut it into strips thin enough for dunking into the egg opening?” Rachel confirmed and got Sarah’s nod. “Where do you keep your egg cups*?”

“Third top cupboard. Yes, that one. They should be toward the back right of the middle shelf.” Sarah stated while adding three eggs to the boiling water and flipping the egg timer, and noting Rachel dropping the two slices of bread into the toaster and turning the dial to light. “Can you open the leaf on the kitchen table?”

“So, you knew exactly which night shirt would be available?” Rachel asked indicating the two shirts. “Oh, you want to share a slice or have soldiers like you brother?”

Sarah laughed then replied. “Give over we can have half each but only Frank needs his half cut into smaller strips. As to the night shirts, I knew I should have both as I have two of the one your wearing and three smurfettes. I’ve got a Bagpuss one if you prefer.” Rachel grinned cutting both slices in half as they popped up toasted and then making thin strip soldiers of one of the halves for the resident monster.

“This shirt is fine, and thanks for it. The timer is almost done.”

Sara grabbed a serving spoon with drainage holes and as soon as the three minutes of sand completed running into the bottom of the egg timer turned off the gas and scooped the three eggs into their respective cups. A quick bash on the top of all three to stop the eggs cooking and they were set. “Frank, your egg and soldiers are ready! Bring a stool with you.” The two girls arranged the three servings around the table, and they each pulled one of the two stools tucked beneath, out from under it.

-~ooOoo~-

*egg cup is a cup sized for an egg so if you want to eat a soft-boiled egg you don’t make a mess or burn your hands. For reasons I will go into later every restaurant in the USA that serves boiled eggs will provide them in a bowl that even though little, is way too big and the egg rolls around in it. You then have to decide whether you want to burn your hands to eat the egg while hot, or wait for it to be cold before trying to eat the thing. And good luck not making a mess from the runny egg you requested from the bamboozled server rather than accepting them in the standard hard boiled way it otherwise always arrives.

My leg pull and likely the reason for the lack of egg cups is that when the UK hands down does something so much better than the US, to the point where it appears the US didn’t even show up for the event; like egg cups, cats eyes, the Concord, and the Harrier jump jet, then these items are marginalized as best they can to not be found out by the general population. Heck Boeing even dropped parts of its own planes that never are defective to ensure they could ground and bankrupt the French/UK joint venture. This paragraph had something to do with egg cups, but the English American got lost in ranting – go figure.

Rachel's visit to the Parker's continues allowing both girls to study for their upcoming exams. How will Sarah's parents react? How will Rachel's Mother?

Sarah had got Frank to bed, while Rachel emptied the washer of the white wash. She placed the basket with damp clothes in the utility room, that was off the kitchen and had the rear door to the garden as its other exit. Both girls would hang it out in the morning before leaving for school if the weather looked good. If not, Sarah’s Mum would possibly put it out before she headed to work, and both would have to get it in and ironed after returning from school tomorrow.

Sarah glanced at the phone. It hadn’t rung. Did that mean Glenda hadn’t passed on her note and the hurried discussion to Rachel’s Mum or something else. She’d stopped the older sister preventing her plan from getting implemented by telling Rachel to get to the other platform while she spoke to her sister. Initially of course Rachel looked to be getting ready to refuse. Then either she’d run out energy to fight or trusted Sarah or a combination and had left for the footbridge. If a combination it was likely far more of the former though Sarah hoped it was weighted in the latter.

Needing to get to the other platform for her train she’d had to talk fast. She had handed over the paper with her home phone number and stated plan for Rachel to stay the next two nights so the pair could study. She’d wrote the note while waiting outside the councilor’s office earlier. Having got Glenda to jot her number on a slip of paper torn her from one of her note books, she had then made for her platform as quickly as she dared while breathing carefully.

The phone not ringing was frustrating. She wanted to give the girls’ mother a piece of her mind. It would also enable her to provide a better reason for this spur of the moment sleepover to her folks when they got home this evening. She could ring the number Glenda had provided but she was both worried and anxious for talking to Rachel's Mother. Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang.

After a calming breath, Sarah answered, ready to battle. “Hello, how can I help you?”

“Evening Sarah, are your parents home?” Sarah heard Jenny, the lady that took care of Frank after school.

Having been girded for a verbal battle, Sarah had to pause a moment before letting Jenny know they weren’t home yet. She then happily agreed to tell them and Frank of the delay in the usual picking Frank up from school, so the school could be informed from the Parkers too. Phone call over and now less desirous in her opinion of getting Rachel’s number to enable calling her house she decided to get back to what she had said they would do, studying. If Rachel's Mother called she would give her a talking to, but if she didn't then she would avoid that battle.

They were being a bit silly singing ‘Alouette, gentile alouette’ while trying to trump each other on the French words for items in the room, having exhausted body parts, when they were startled by the knock on the bedroom door, just prior to its opening.

“Sarah, and who is this?” Sarah’s Dad inquired. He’d heard the two girls’ dulcet tones and giggles from the bottom of the stairs and thus hurried the entry as Sarah knew she couldn’t have friends over when alone without prior parent approval. Some of her friends could over excite Sarah, and were not allowed to be with her without parental supervision. They were so scared of losing their daughter.

“This is Rachel, from my class we have been studying for tomorrow’s exams.”

“Nice to meet you Rachel. I assume the uniform drying on the utility room radiators is yours?” Rachel nodded, while worrying if they were in trouble. Sarah’s Dad looked really angry. “Are your parents bringing dry clothes when they come to pick you up?”

“Dad, Rachel is staying the night…

“Just a moment. Rachel your parents are aware, and have accepted this?” Michael interrupted his daughter and having got a guilty half nod that was so tentative it was obviously covering a lie, smiled. The smile was one that scared Rachel even more, something was truly wrong with that smile. “If you could just excuse us for a moment Rachel, I need to talk to my daughter downstairs. Sarah come with me.” He opened the door and ushered his daughter out in front of him.

Rachel was left in the now empty bedroom staring at the closed door worried, and wondering what she should do. Had she got Sarah in trouble? Was she about to be smacked with shoe and belt? Was he like her Mother? Should she run? Where?

“What’s going on Sarah?” Michael asked his daughter after turning the TV on.

“You said I could have a sleepover if I wanted, and she is really smart, and we are studying for exams…

“Sarah, I know Rachel is not in your class. How old is she? Is there a problem at her home?”

“Dad she is in my class. She is a genius and already got bumped up two years ahead. This is my last chance to get back into my form and she will likely be promoted again next year and is my best chance to get back into my form… Also, you’ve seen her Warrington school uniform drying on the radiators.” Sarah couldn’t believe her dad thought she was lying.

“Sarah, yes, both Mum and I have said you could have sleepovers. That is after we have met your friends and their parents. I’ve never heard mention of… Actually, I recall a few weekends ago when you had Allison and that Lewis girl over. The three of you were being nasty about some childish baby you had to share class with?” Michael’s tone let Sarah know he was asking while fairly sure he knew the answer.

“We were being bitches and jealous. Do you enjoy hearing me say I was in the wrong…

Michael pulled his daughter into a hug and ruffled her hair. “I would never enjoy that, but I am proud when my daughter owns up to making a mistake and being cruel, as it tells me she is trying to grow up into a great young lady. Now I note that you have avoided a couple of things still, like your Mum and I knowing the friend and her parents prior to a sleepover, which wouldn’t be on a school night too.”

Well here goes nothing Sarah thought. She’d known this had to come up. Perhaps a little more easing while pointing out how she would benefit. “She is helping me with all my subjects except music and French. While I am helping her in French. She’s in all my classes except music, Rachel does art, and is really good at it.” Sarah quickly barreled on when she saw her Dad about to complain again. “… and even though it is a school night the exams are tomorrow, and we are studying not playing, and I made friends with her today, and when Misses Thatcher was attacking her, and I saw the opportunity, so I took it, and there wouldn’t be time for you to meet her before it was too late….

“Woah hold up a second. What did Misses Thatcher do?” Michael interrupted her.

Sarah refrained from smiling, her Dad zeroed in on her ‘accidently’ mentioning of an attack by the counselor. “I met Rachel this morning when you dropped me in to school early. She was already there, and we studied, and I am sure I did much better in my Math and Geography exams because of that studying.”

“Sarah, that is all well and good, but I asked you a question.”Michael brought his daughter back to the ‘attack’ that he was more concerned to learn more about.”

“I am getting to that Dad. At lunch while we were studying for Geography her older sister Glenda yelled some stuff about how she was in trouble for leaving home extremely early in the morning. Also, that Rachel had threatened their Mother with jail.” Sarah, waved her hands. “Misses Thatcher was attacking Rachel, when she refused to talk about it. The counselor was angry that Rachel refused to provide any fire for the smoke and threatened her with punishment if she didn’t talk.”

“Rachel is being abused at home?”

Sarah quickly increased the TV volume and ensured the door was closed. “I don’t know. I thought it best to get her away, to let both sides calm down. Misses Thatcher was trying to make the situation worse, causing Rachel to be more protective and defensive of her home life.”

“Am I likely to have the police arrive on a concern of kidnapping?”

“I told Glenda what Misses Thatcher tried and how Rachel took punishment to protect their Mum. I also gave her our phone number and told her to tell her Mum what I had said and that I thought some evenings apart is best for both sides to calm down. The phone never rang.”

Michael took a breath in. “How old is this older sister?”

“Glenda is in Tanya’s form.” Sarah told her Dad, while wishing she hadn’t lost that friendship. It had been resting on shaky ground heading from fall into winter of the year before last. That was when Tanya had noticed boys slightly earlier than most of the other ten year old girls. Sarah was stuck between doing well enough at school to keep her parents happy and spending enough time looking through teen girl magazines and practicing make-up to keep Tanya a friend.

Then in February, Sarah caught a bad flu that hospitalized her. It caused secondary illnesses of whooping cough, pneumonia, and laryngitis. It seemed as if she was just improving from one when the next illness attacked. She was extremely weak after being sick for over three months. The doctors recommended at minimum keeping Sarah out of school through nearly the end of the school year to ensure she didn’t catch anything off the other children there. Both the doctors and school advised writing off the whole year rather than just returning for the end of the year exams. The upshot of that was with poor results on December’s exams her only showing for the year, the school recommended holding Sarah back a year to recover from the lost time in school.

Sarah in the fall returned to repeat her last year at Saint Albans Primary and Tanya made new friends at Warblington Secondary. If Sarah hadn’t wasted so much time appeasing Tanya’s interest on boys and make-up she would have done better on the exams and not lost her best friend by being held back in the old school. Then she finally gets to Warblington and Tanya behaves as if she’d never known her and a little kid over three years younger than her is easily top student in her new class.

It was easy to join in with the bullying of Rachel. Rachel’s own sister seemed determined to make her life hell, and her year mates including Tanya were more than willing to join in. Initially Sarah wanted to get her friend back, but even when that failed she didn’t stop bullying. Sarah had found herself the head girl in first form and made friends before realizing it. She was able to sway them slightly from becoming gossiping, make-up plastering, and boy crazies. Most aside the one they all bullied were not as much believers that boys were the root of all things evil though.

“Sarah.” Her Dad startled her out of her memories. “Sorry Dad.” Her Dad just looked at her in exasperation before repeating. “I asked if you got their phone number.”

“Yeah, let me get it. I have it in my school bag.” Sarah ran upstairs to get the number Glenda had given her. Two thirds up the stairs she slowed down to catch her wind. She glanced and saw her Dad’s worrying stare. He’d followed her into the hall. Damn she had kept her parents from hearing her wheezing, only to forget and over exert herself.

Carefully breathing in deeply and trying to stay calm “I’m fine Dad. I shouldn’t run on the stairs.” Sarah offered.

Not waiting to give him time to think she resumed her climb at a more moderate pace while concentrating on deep breathing. She was sure the barely there rattle couldn’t travel to where he stood. Hopefully, he wouldn’t schedule a doctor’s visit, especially during her exams.

“What’s wrong?” Rachel by way of greeting met her when she entered the room.

Sarah startled replied. “I shouldn’t run on the stairs, I’m not wheezing!” The brittle rattle was barely present, how had she heard… Sarah then saw Rachel’s concerned face morph to confused. Oh, yes she’d been worried about something else. “Don’t worry. My Dad just needs something. I’ll be back soon to test you on your French so study ‘till I get back, ‘k’.”

Having confused Rachel she got the slip of paper from the book bag’s pocket. “Learning from a book, works better when you open it.” Sarah offered to distract Rachel as she left for downstairs.

What happened on Warblington station platform after Rachel left her sister Glenda there.

Glenda tried not to shake as she stared across the tracks to the train Rachel would be sitting in. With the early afternoon sun falling on the carriages’ windows she couldn’t see through them to see if her sister was sitting on the other side of one of those panes of glass. What was she supposed to tell their Mum? She glanced at the note clenched in her hand afraid it would burn her. Would she get beat tonight for not stopping Rachel from running away?

When had the bottom fallen out of her life? To think her biggest worry had been her little sister getting promoted into the same class as her. No, she couldn’t lie to herself. Her biggest worry was her little sister getting promoted forms ahead of her, and leaving her dumb sister behind in the dust, as she had left Sally years ago. How petty, no how pathetic to worry about something so trivial and small. If she was beaten she deserved it for all the cruel things she had done to Rachel. If Rachel could laugh at her Mum as she was punished then she could too.

As she watched the far train pull away, stealing her sister from her, she made a promise to herself. She would be a better sister. She would take the punishment the way Rachel showed her to take it. She would not show fear. Glenda hugged herself as she started shaking, and tears began to slide from the corner of her eyes toward her cheeks. She couldn’t fix her Mum or Misses Fowler and Miss Fowler who would find no target to attack but her, as Rachel had run away.

Her sister took their three pronged attack every Tuesday and Friday and she had gleefully enjoyed the torment they leveled on Rachel. She deserved the attack as she had never defended her little sister. Worse, she had felt it was deserved for being wrong, evil, odd…

The announcement that, “The next train arriving was for Chichester, stopping at Emsworth, Southbourne, Nutbourne, Bosham, Fishbourne and Chichester only. Change at Chichester…” Broke into her meltdown enough so Glenda could woodenly alight the train and sink into the first empty seat she found. She stared off the lad that was thinking of taking the empty seat beyond hers against the window. Thankfully the streaks of running tears and the pain in her eyes, was able to communicate to him to not try to force his way against her legs, or ask her to scoot over from the aisle seat.

It would be so easy to just stay on the train Glenda thought. Which stop should she take? Should she sit to Chichester? There would be a conductor checking the tickets. Could she hide in the loo? Could she get to Nutbourne before her student pass was checked? If the conductor just glanced at her pass…

Was she really going to run away and leave Sally to get beat? She was the eldest and it was high time she protected her younger sisters. She had just promised herself that, and yet here she was thinking on how to avoid a little pain. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too painful. Rachel took it, and she was three years older.

She was scared. Unable to tough it out she curled into herself on the seat and allowed herself to cry. “Hey, we need to get off at this station? We’re at Emsworth. Glenda, where’s Rachel?” Glenda lifted her head and saw Misses Wilson in the aisle next to her seat. Beyond her Mum’s aerobics friend the Emsworth station sign on the platform could be seen through the train window. Glenda quickly grabbed her bag she’d nearly missed her station. “Why’re you here?” Glenda asked in worry.

“Where’s Rachel, Glenda?” Lauren asked worried Rachel had done something stupid. She’d wanted to catch the earlier train after shopping in Portsmouth, but had managed to miss it. She had ended up on the train the girls would get onto at Warblington station instead of being on Warblington station platform when they arrived to catch this train. Knowing she couldn’t hope to pick out two girls in a sea of school children all dressed alike, she’d sat at one end of the train. Then as the train left Warblington station she began her trek up the train and found Glenda sat in the last carriage. Ensuring the two of them at least got off the train at the right place she began to think what she needed to do.

Obviously Rachel wasn’t on the train and likely this problem was why Glenda was so distressed. It would seem her friend was right to think she had messed up something fierce with Rachel. She’d begged her to get her daughters home so she didn’t have another public row at this station. Now she needed to get answers from Glenda to know what to do.

Guiding the distraught girl to a bench she placed her shopping bags down and encouraged the girl to sit and be hugged. Unfortunately she needed to know about Rachel and couldn’t give the girl the time and love she needed to be given. “Glenda, I need to know where Rachel is.”

Glenda became aware she was sat on one of the Emsworth platform benches being hugged by Misses Wilson that wanted to know about how she had messed up and lost Rachel. She’d been all set on what to say to Mum and to hand her the note. The note! Glancing at her hands she saw the crumpled note was still tightly held in her hand, and just handed it to Misses Wilson.

Lauren opened the crumpled paper and read Sarah’s note. Relief flooded in. Well as soon as she got Glenda home she would call Sarah’s parents and everything would be remedied. Luckily it seemed that Rachel and Belinda could have some time apart to cool down, and it hadn’t got as far out of hand as Belinda had been worried it had. Popping the note in her hand bag and hugging Glenda to her she stroked the young girl’s back. “What say we get you home for a nice cup of chocolate milk? We can get some from Spar on the way home in case your Mum doesn’t have any.”

Glenda was laughing and joking with Misses Wilson as they walked home when Misses Wilson suddenly stopped, and pulled Glenda close. “Glenda, I need you to not mention the note. Rachel is at her friend's, Sarah’s house to study together for the half term exams. This was planned by your Mum and Sarah’s parents to allow Rachel time with her friend. Nothing bad happened last night. If they say, or you hear Sally said something about last night, say Sally got upset because Rachel and your Mum had an argument, and Rachel was sent to bed without tea after a couple of spanks for being naughty.”

“What, no Mum used a belt and a shoe and she wouldn’t stop, and Rachel laughed at her saying she was weak…

“Glenda do you love your Mum?” Glenda took a moment to think if she said yes would she get hit like Rachel was, but she had agreed she deserved it and she let it happen to Rachel. “This is important Glenda. If you don’t say what I said then you will be taken from your Dad, from your sisters. You do want to stay as a family with Rachel and Sally?”

“Yes, Misses Wilson, I will protect Rachel and Sally. They are my little sisters even if Rachel is smarter than me and seems older…

“Then please Glenda for me, and your Mum, and Sally, and Rachel. Last night Rachel and your Mum had an argument, but her only punishment was going to bed without tea and a couple of smacks. Sally got distraught over it, as Rachel laughed at the punishment, and Sally got scared thinking Mum might get angry and had nightmares about the punishment, and came to sleep in your bed because she was scared.” Lauren waited holding her breath, letting it go when she saw understanding cross Glenda’s eyes and the girl nod her head while firming her resolve.

“Yes, Rachel is studying with her bestfriend Sarah. Sally had a nightmare. Rachel was only sent to bed without tea after a couple of smacks. What Sally said there was a shoe? No, she had a nightmare, but I held her and helped her go back to sleep.”

“I wished I had gone to my friend’s house. I have exams tomorrow too. I’ve not eaten tea or dinner. You keep asking me the same bloody questions. No my Mum and Dad have never abused me or my younger sisters. The only abuse I’ve ever had my entire life is this evening from you bastards. I had to get naked so you could look at my body, and I’ve had to listen to your lies and threats. I WANT TO GO HOME!”

“Glenda, we need to ensure your home is a safe place first. Sally has said things that completely disagree with everything you’ve said…

“Everything! There is a lie from you too, now. Sally had a nightmare last night. I know because she came to my bedroom and told me about her fears…

“What did Sally say exactly?”

“I was asleep when she came. It was the middle of the bloody night. I think she was worried that as Rachel was laughing when punished… Which is usual, Rachel always acts strong and like she can never be hurt… I think Sally had a nightmare of the punishment being worse...

“A nightmare caused because your Mum lost it and attacked Rachel violently due to Rachel taunting her?” One of the two women in the room with Rachel pounced.

“No, Mum just sent Rachel to bed without tea, but I think Sally’s nightmare might have been different. I just calmed her down and said soothing things until Sally fell asleep. I hugged her. Is that allowed or can a sister not hug her younger sister who had a nightmare?”

“Glenda we can’t help you if you keep lying.”

“That’s rich. I catch you two bloody lying and you accuse me of lying. Well I haven’t lied, and I won’t lie to tell you what you want to hear. I just bloody well want to go home with my sister and my perfect Mother who is so much better than you lying bitches, it is no comparison. You want to know if I’ve been abused. Then yes, this bloody evening for the first time ever by all the fucking staff in this joke of an office, and I will say that to the bloody judge when I finally get to meet him.”

Margaret sighed, for all she was sure Glenda was lying, she hadn’t said anything that could be used to prove she was. After Misses Stillman’s friend arrived even that source of information dried up as she regained confidence. Even apparently forgetting that the daughter she allegedly beat was going over to a best friend’s house when Sally had said before her sister was friendless and Misses Stillman hadn’t corrected her. It was convenient that contact information for the Parkers was at the Stillman’s home.

Misses Thatcher from Warblington High School had called in the concern for child abuse, and Margaret was sure abuse had happened. Unfortunately, Glenda and Misses Wilson had been strong sources of denial. How Misses Wilson was able to coach Glenda in the trip from station to home… No, she’d been shopping at Portsmouth if she was on the train… What if she was at Warblington station and bundled Rachel off with Sarah so they couldn’t examine the girl. Then she would have the time at the station and train journey to Emsworth too, to coach the girl.

So they had one child’s tale that would come across as a nightmare, as the girl had a nightmare of the event. A good solicitor would be able to do exactly what Glenda had done making it seem a nightmare only. Not a nightmare caused due to a traumatic event that actually happened. Misses Wilson must have coached Mother and daughter, and during the initial raid without her friend Misses Stillman nearly confessed, unfortunately Misses Wilson arrived with a perfectly coached daughter and a perfect excuse to stop them examining the abused girl.

They would have to let the woman leave with her friend and daughters. She’d try to get her supervisor to allow pulling Rachel from school tomorrow. Hopefully they could find some proof of abuse.