After school was over, Charisa purposely lagged behind as the other children made their way out the door. Even Jessica was gone, Charisa had told her friend earlier that she would be getting a ride home.

Once the coast was clear, Charisa left the class and Ms. Reinhart behind and walked just far enough to be out of view. Though she had a plan to avert upcoming disaster, Charisa wanted to make sure she covered for every conceivable contingency. Though the girl worked hard to change the past she was currently reliving, it seemed like very little had changed and events were rapidly unfolding as they once did.

Sure enough the pounding of feet echoed through the hall. Charisa didn’t even need to look to know it was Ritchie. It concerned her greatly that history was repeating itself. Somewhere from inside her tiny being, Charisa had the feeling that her former self still had a role to play in remedying the situation; if only she knew what it was. Instead, she simply meandered back to the classroom door and waited for the boy to emerge.

Ritchie was startled as he turned after leaving the classroom and saw the girl a fraction of an inch away. “Oh, it’s you,” he said noncommittally.

“I hope it did some good this time,” Charisa said as she stared into the boy’s eyes blankly.

“You hope what did some good?” Ritchie asked as he tried not to blink.

“You telling Ms. Reinhart about the bruise and you seeing Carrie’s dad touch her bottom; that’s what.”

“How did you know?”

“Like I told you before,” Charisa said coolly, “I know things, important things.”

Ritchie was cross, though he didn’t know why. “If you’re so smart, how do I fix this thing with Carrie? I got a bad feeling about it.”

“I don’t know how you can fix it. Not yet at least. But something bad might happen, I mean dangerous and deathly bad, I may need you.”

Ritchie shook his head as if to awake from a slumber. “That’s a terrible thing to say. So what you guessed why I went in to see Ms. Reinhart. Whoop-de-do. You’re just some sort of freak who likes messing with people.”

Charisa watched as the boy ran away. Though the result wasn’t what she had wanted, at least she planted the seed that she wanted.

Even though she couldn’t immediately recall what her dream was about, its affect still ran through Charisa’s body as she lay naked on her bed. The girl’s groin tingled and she could feel the heat radiate out from between her legs. A week’s worth of curiosity about what a girl felt when they entered the very state Charisa found herself attacked the former boy at the most vulnerable of times.

“Oh well, this is almost over,” Charisa said as she let her hand slide to her most tender of spots. Her body squealed with delight, sending waves of pleasurable pins and needles inside of her.

At first – trying to call on former knowledge – Charisa tried to picture a beautiful woman. Though that would have worked for her former masculine body, it did nothing for her current form and the pleasurable sensations were waning. Charisa then focused her thoughts on one of the teenage boy heartthrobs in one of Jessica’s magazines. Not only did the good feeling return, they intensified.

Charisa ran her fingers in circles over her girlhood, panting more and more heavily as she imagined the fictitious boy making her feel heavenly. Her hand moved faster and faster as she spread her legs, feeling her hips buck against her digits as she toyed with a penetration that she wouldn’t dare accomplish.

“Oh yes!” Charisa murmured almost inaudibly as she thrust one final time. A rush of joy and a trickle of sticky fluid flushed from her loins while she felt a high that was better than anything a drug could produce.

The girl lay still on the bed, trying to recover from her first sexual experience in the body-female. Her only thought though was that she hoped she hadn't displeased God and that should probably take a bath.

At four thirty Jessica stopped by with a knapsack, a rolled up sleeping bad and an old, beat up doll. “My parents couldn’t wait to get rid of me,” she explained wryly. “That’s why I’m so early.”

“You’re only a half-hour early. Charisa said as she led her friend to her bedroom. “You can help me figure what all we’re going to do tonight.”

Jessica dropped her things on the floor, and then arranged them neatly. “We should definitely watch a movie; something with a hunk in it, like Leonardo Di Caprio.” The girl beamed as she playfully raised her eyebrows.

“We can watch Titanic,” Charisa suggested. “But it’s so long.”

Jessica shrugged. “We can fast forward through all the boring parts and besides, we’ll be talking through the whole thing and doing other stuff.”

“Like our hair and make-up.” Charisa was surprised at the unbridled enthusiasm in which she spoke the words.

“How about food, do you got a bunch of junk food for us.”

Knowing what she did about the future and Jessica’s weight problems, Charisa gave pause. “I have some junk food, we got to watch our figures,” she said half mockingly.

Jessica laughed. “Watch them for who? The boys we’re around are such cheddar heads.”

“Like, I know,” Charisa said in her best Jersey mall rat impersonation. “But you never know when Leonardo Di Caprio will stop by.”

The girls took to rearranging the room so all three – once Carrie got there – could occupy the same area of the floor. It took a little effort to move the bed sideways and up against the wall, but they did it. It took less time to throw a bunch of pillows around their makeshift area and to pull the board games out that they planned to play. It took until then for Charisa to figure out how completely stocked the house really was. “I guess angels just don’t throw things together,” the girl thought.

“I wonder where Carrie is,” Jessica voiced a shared concern. “She should’ve been here already. It’s not like her to be late.”

“I’ll call and see what’s up.” Charisa grabbed the cordless phone and dialed the missing friend’s number. “Hello, Carrie?”

“Hi Charisa,” the girl on the other end of the line said solemnly.

“What’s up? Why aren’t you here? It’s past five.”

“I can’t come tonight. I got to drop off some things that people ordered and my mom really wants me to help with Mary Kay. My step dad thinks it’s important that me and my mom do things together.”

“But, but,” Charisa tried to form an objection. “You promised.”

“I’m sorry Charisa,” the girl said as she was being yelled at by her step father. “I can’t talk now. I got to go. I’ll talk to you on Monday.”

“Don’t go,” Charisa said to a dead line.

“Punished again?” Jessica asked knowingly.

Charisa’s face turned focused. “Yeah, and I’m not going to stand for it. Stay here, I won’t be too long. I gotta get help.”

Before Jessica could reply, Charisa bolted out of the room and out the front door. Charisa ran as fast as she could, even faster than she did the day – while she lived life as Ritchie – she found out that Carrie was killed. If she didn’t want that event to repeat itself, she needed her former self’s help. It was already 5:30; she only had an hour and a half before Hector took things too far.

Running, Charisa didn’t think it would take that long to travel six Floridian blocks, but by the time she reached her former house more time passed than she would’ve preferred. Her – rather Ritchie’s – parents’ car was already gone, just like it was suppose to be. The girl ran to the backyard, where her former self should be hanging out in his clubhouse that also doubled as his father’s tool shed.

Charisa pounded on the aluminum door to the wooden shed.

“Who goes there,” Ritchie called out, trying to sound like a centurion or medieval knight.

“It’s Charisa, open up.”

“Know one is allowed in unless they know the password.”

Charisa rolled her eyes. She never recalled being so prosaic. “Wart-snot,” the girl called back casually, recalling the word from somewhere deep in her subconscious.

Ritchie slowly opened the door. “The problem with some people is that they can’t keep their mouth’s shut when you tell them something is a secret.”

“What are you talking about?” Charisa entered the musty shed, smelling a mixture of fertilized and her old self’s sweat.

“Greg told you my password. He’s the only one who knew it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Charisa cut the boy off before he could start ranting about how Greg had done him wrong. “I need your help.”

Ritchie annoyingly rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong? I thought you knew everything.”

“I don’t know everything,” Charisa seethed. “I only know that the girl you love is about to be hurt really bad if we don’t do something to stop it.”

“How do you know what girl I love?” Ritchie demanded.

“Damn it!” Charisa shouted. “There’s not a thing about you I don’t know.”

“Oh yeah,” Ritchie squared off to the girl. “Prove it.”

The girl took a deep breath. “Okay, I will. Yesterday you got in trouble for looking at your dad’s girly magazines because you wanted to know why Carrie’s dad wants to see her naked. Your dad told you your punishment was to be a girl for a weekend because your mom didn’t know how to deal with boys, but it was a joke. Instead you had to clean out the garage.”

Ritchie stood there with his mouth open.

“Now get your dad’s gun and let’s go. Hopefully we can catch Carrie before she gets back home. “Charisa looked at her watch. It was already six and they had twelve blocks to cover. “We don’t have much time.”

Ritchie tucked his dad’s gun in his pants and had his t-shirt hang over it. Luckily the shirt was loose and dark enough not to reveal a bulge. “You better be right,” the boy said as the power walked down the street. “When my dad finds out I took the gun he’s going to whip me good.”

Charisa shot the boy a look. “Your dad has never once hit you.”

“There’s always a first time,” Ritchie said wryly. “And I wish you’d stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Knowing everything; it’s pretty annoying.”

They built up a good sweat by the time they neared Carrie’s house. They were two blocks away when they saw the girl turn the corner and sprint away from them in a wild panic.

“Carrie!” Ritchie yelled on top of his lungs as he ran after the girl. Somehow he sensed her fear and knew that Charisa was right, something bad was about to happen.

No matter how fast the two would-be rescuers ran, the soon-to-be victim was running that much quicker. By the time Charisa and Ritchie reached the corner of where Carrie’s house was, their friend was already inside and the door was sealed.

“Come on,” Charisa said as they made their way to the side of the house. “This is where her bedroom is.”

The sound of flesh on flesh rang through the closed window.

Ritchie’s face turned tense and stoic.

“We gotta get in or break the window or something,” Charisa said frantically.

“Please!” the terror filled plea of the girl inside the house filled the air.

Ritchie stood there frozen, sizing up the window.

“No!” Carrie said in fear and distaste.

The boy took two steps back then barreled towards the girl’s bedroom window. Just as he leapt, he instinctively threw his hands in front of his face for protection. Charisa watched the action from outside, not knowing if she too should make an appearance.

A semi-nude Hector turned at the commotion, losing his erection momentarily until he saw that it was yet another eight year old that he could wield power over. “You little punk!” the man shouted as his excitement grew. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not going to let you hurt her,” Ritchie said as he scrambled to his feet.

Hector was amused. “I suppose you want her first, is that it?”

“You’re sick,” Ritchie spat as he saw his love interest cover up in shame.

“I see,” Hector said victoriously. “You want to take her place.”

Charisa was amazed at the accuracy of the pervert’s statement, even if the meaning was distorted beyond belief.

As if suddenly remembering the weapon, Ritchie pulled the gun from his pants. “I don’t think so.”

Now Hector’s erection was completely gone. “Don’t do anything stupid, boy.”

Ritchie noticed the twang of fear in the man’s voice and knew he had the upper hand. “Carrie, get out. Charisa is outside. Go call the cops.”

Carrie was too stunned to speak. The girl meandered to the broken window.

Ritchie watched as the girl climbed out the window naked, in that instant he saw Hector make a charge at him.

The man and the boy struggled for the gun. With every ounce of strength in his young body, Ritchie hung on. Without warning, a shot rang out as police sirens wailed in the distance. Hector fell back and landed on the floor with a thud.

Charisa eyed the scene and let out a bitter laugh as a police cruiser pulled into the driveway. After a week of abject failure, she finally got what she prayed for; Carrie lived.

Ritchie looked at the man, uncomprehendingly. He then looked down and noticed the slick wet stain grow on his shirt. The boy then looked out the window and knew that he and Charisa were one in the same. “The way it should be,” the child said as the police officers burst into the room.

Charisa watched as the boy fell forward with a smile froze on his lifeless face.

The rest of the hour was a blur. Police were asking questions. Many which didn’t have a good answer. Why was the daughter naked? Why did the boy bring a gun with him? At first, Hector’s story was that Ritchie tried to rape his daughter, but Carrie and Charisa told a more accurate tale. And, as luck would have it, Jessica was watching from down the block, adding a third set of eyes. The police wound up talking Hector away in handcuffs and a detective took Jessica and Carrie to the station in order to get a more complete picture of recent going-ons, and to contact their respective mothers.

Charisa slipped away unnoticed, making her way back to the house she and Angela shared. All she could think about was how this was her last walk on the Earth. Her week was up, the mission she was sent back to complete was finished exactly the way she wanted and there was nothing more the girl could ask for. Walking up the path to the house, Charisa smiled as she saw the for sale sign on the lawn.

Charisa entered the house, shocked that it was completely barren. “Angela?” she called out with uncertainty.

“I’m right here child.” Angela stepped out of the living room, entering the foyer.

“I guess it’s time to go.” Charisa took an involuntary gulp.

“That it is child.”

“I’m sure I’ll like Heaven,” the girl said for lack of anything else to say.

“You’re not going to Heaven, child,” Angela said impassively.

“Oh.” Charisa’s eyes grew wide with terror. “I’m going to that other place.”

The angel knew exactly what the child was referring to. “Goodness, no. You made a great sacrifice today, unselfishly laying your life down so you r friend may live. Such sacrifice doesn’t warrant the most extreme punishment.”

“Then where am I going to go.”

“You’re coming home with us,” a familiar voice said from off to the side. “Home, where you belong.”

Charisa turned to see two figures standing there. “Mom?!? Dad?!?”

“Who’d you expect,” Mr. Motts said.

“But how?” Charisa turned to the angel.

“Like I told you from the beginning,” Angela explained, “this wasn’t your prayer being answered. It was theirs.”

“But why?” Charisa stammered. “And why a girl?”

“It was out of love,” Mrs. Motts explained. “For ten years you faked your way through life, acting as tough as you could, pretending you didn’t have any emotions and hating every minute of it. The reason I asked for you to come back as a girl was simple, I never knew what to do with a boy. Besides, you’ll be much happier as a girl. Trust me, a mother knows.”

Charisa looked up at the angel for conformation.

“She’s right. The reason you’ve felt so comfortable as a girl were always inside of you, they were all your emotions. No angelic help was used to make you feel comfortable in your current body. It’s time for you to go home now, the future, as you know it, has yet to be written, so you have yourself a beautifully grand existence.”

With those words, the angel vanished, leaving the family to forge their own way in a new world.