A snow globe, of sorts, of an insulated world where dreams can come true over several holidays.

Academic, by Karin Bishop

Part 4

Chapter 10: Travel Possibilities

I took a fast shower and came out feeling human. In other words, not Benjamin! I powdered and scented myself with some things Mom had found for me, and dressed in light blue bra and panty set, a burgundy camisole, gray-and-burgundy plaid pleated skirt and black flats. I did my makeup, put on my jewelry including the magnetic earrings, and then did my nails. God, I’d been wanting to do that! They were a nice plum and Mom had found one of those blue light gadgets so I was nearly dry just as Mom walked in.

And looked really, really pissed.

“Hi …?” I said tentatively.

“We have to talk, young lady,” Mom said, leaning against the door jamb.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, cowed and confused.

“You didn’t tell me you’d been threatened.”

“But nothing happened; it was just threats–wait a minute; how do you know?”

“Shelly told me. She called me right after she got you in the cab.”

“I’ll kill her,” I said. “I didn’t want you to be worried. And it’s over now.”

“No, it’s not over, not with those kinds of boys. It’s never over to them until they hurt you.”

“Well, they’ve got three weeks to forget about me.”

“They’ve got three weeks to plan how to hurt you and not get caught. I can’t believe you’re this naíve. You were a boy, for God’s sake; you know how they think–the bad ones, I mean.”

I hung my head. “Mom? I really don’t. I never …got them. I didn’t understand half the things they talked about, or that meant something to them, and …it was kind of like being in a foreign country.”

“But you …” Mom trailed off, staring at me. She sagged against the door. “You really don’t know, do you? You truly are a naíve little girl …”

“Mom …” I said, on the edge of tears. That had hurt.

She rushed to me. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it to hurt you. I meant that you were a little girl, growing up in her own world, not understanding the world of boys around her.”

She was hugging me now and I sniffed and nodded. “I just didn’t get it,” I said again.

“How strange for you; I never …I don’t think until this moment I really comprehended, truly grasped how …how alien being a boy has been for you for thirteen years. Oh, my poor baby.”

“I just …tried to be invisible. If I hadn’t found Shelly, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“She’s a Godsend. And probably on her way here. Okay, game plan.”

“Game plan?”

She nodded. “I talked with Shelly and here’s how we play it for her mom. Very simple. You’re a girl; you’ve always been a girl. You knew the boy Benjamin that Shelly was friendly with when she was little but ‘he’s gone’. That’s all we say, ‘he’s gone’.”

“Well, for the next three weeks, he is!” I grinned.

She squeezed my shoulder. “Yes, I think that was our plan anyway.”

There was something in her voice. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Did Shelly say anything? She just told me she’d gotten the call from her mother and I guess her mom is taking her away but wants to meet ‘her little friend’.”

Mom laughed. “Yes, she said the same thing. No, I think that all we have to do is be the Housemans, mother and daughter, long-time friends of Michelle and her refuge from Morton.”

“Which we are, basically.”

At that point the doorbell rang. Mom motioned to stay in place. She went to answer it and I heard her say hello to Shelly so I went out.

Shelly stood there, looking nervous. “You okay, babe?”

I said, “Thanks to you. Are you okay?”

“Babe?” Mom said.

“I’ll explain later,” I chuckled. “So what’s up, Shell?”

She rolled her eyes. “My mother’s in the car, won’t even get out until she knew you both were home.”

“How is she?” I asked.

“Okay, actually. Dry. Tanned. Getting leathery,” she shrugged.

Mom and I looked at each other. Mom said, “Shelly, what would you like me to do? Go out and invite her in?”

“Normally, sure; but I don’t want it to look like you’re a servant preparing the way or anything.”

I said, “How about I go, and Mom stay here like the lady of the manor?”

Shelly said, “Um …yeah. That’s exactly right. Sorry to put you guys through this. She’s just …weird.”

“And so are we, each in our own way,” Mom smiled. “Oh, and Shelly? Abby is your best friend, has always been a girl; she knew Benjamin but he’s gone and we don’t know where.”

That brought the first smile from Shelly. “Works for me!”

“Here, honey,” Mom said, tossing me a white sweater.

I put it on and wrapped my arms around me when I stepped out and the cold hit me; the two of us walked carefully to the black Town Car. Through the windshield I could see the a driver in a black tie and suit. The side windows were blacked as well. As we got to the car the side window slid down.

Yow! Tanned and ‘getting leathery’ was right! Maybe a face lift or two as well; she looked artificially youthful–almost painfully so. Dripping in gold and in diamonds. One or the other, I thought. Her hair was coppery and lush and I realized she looked a bit like recent photos of Sophia Loren.

Shelly said, “Hey, Mom, you wanna come in?”

“Now, Michelle …” her mother said with some disapproval.

“Hello, Mrs. Benton,” I said in my ‘best’ voice. “I’m Abigail, Shelly’s friend–”

“Best friend!” Shelly blurted.

“–best friend,” I grinned at her, and then looked back at her mother. “Would you like to come in for a moment and meet my mother?”

“We really don’t have the time,” Mrs. Benton said.

Shelly said, “Mom, the whole point of this was so you could meet Abby and her mom, right? So if we’re running short on time, don’t spend any more of it sitting in the car. Come on. It’s cold out here.”

I glanced up and saw Mom smiling and nodding graciously at the open door.

“Thomas?” Mrs. Benton said.

Shelly blew out some air. “Oh, for Pete’s sake–Thomas, stay there. I can open her door.” She reached for the door handle.

Mrs. Benton barked, “Michelle!”

Shelly stopped and kind of sagged. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Benton said, “Thomas?”

The chauffeur got out and buttoned his coat and came around. Shelly and I stood back as he opened the door and extended a hand. A leathery hand with long magenta nails–like talons, I thought–took his and she stepped from the car. She was in black boots, a black silky dress with a white fur that draped down to her knees. She released the hand and sort of straightened herself. Part of me hoped she never saw pictures of Cruella deVille from 101 Dalmatians. The other part wondered if she had.

“Michelle,” she said. There was some disdain, something hidden, in her tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” Shelly said. That tone obviously meant something between them.

It was painful seeing my friend treated this way, and reacting this way. To see Shelly like a beaten puppy was almost more than I could bear. This was so alien compared to life with my mother; my heart went out to poor Shelly as we accompanied her mother in a stately entourage to the steps and up to our door. Mom kept her smile on the whole way as if this was all perfectly normal.

A little part of me was glad that even though it was just Mom and me, we lived in a large, stately home. Not a mansion by any means, but as we walked slowly, careful not to slip, I realized how different this would go if I’d lived in a small tract home. Or, God forbid, an apartment! I bet Shelly’s mother wouldn’t even leave the car. I was pretty sure it was only the size of our house that made us at least borderline acceptable. Maybe I was wrong.

I wasn’t.

Mom was gracious and welcoming, smiling and saying, “Welcome, Mrs. Benton; it’s a pleasure to meet Michelle’s mother.”

“Yes, thank you,” was the response, like of course meeting her was a pleasure.

We got in and I shivered from the cold. There was the awkward ‘won’t you have a seat?’ thing and tea was offered and Mrs. Benton did something that meant nothing to me but Mom seemed to interpret.

“Abby? The tea is nearly ready if you would do the honors,” Mom smiled at me.

Confused but knowing enough to just say ‘Sure, Mom’, I went into the kitchen. She’d pulled out a family heirloom China tea set, exquisite porcelain that made me instantly terrified of dropping the tray. Everything was prepared so I brought it out slowly and carefully and set it on the coffee table. I guessed it was a tea table, now!

Mom also had me pour, because there was some ritual going on, I realized. Not the Japanese tea ceremony kind of ritual, but a High Society thing. Mom had grown up in a very genteel social structure, and also had dealt with The Rich all of her life. I could learn so much from her.

I also realized that if we were in Mrs. Benton’s house, a servant would be pouring the tea–she would never pour her own. So it was a status thing; if Mom had poured, it lowered her status to Mrs. Benton.

Tricky.

Shelly looked like a deer in headlights. I smiled at her and she rolled her eyes and looked a little better, but not much. I could tell she was worried on many levels.

After the obligatory sip–or fake sip, I noticed–Mrs. Benton put her cup and saucer down and complimented the tea and tea set. Mom did the thank you thing with a gracious head tilt and then there was silence.

“The tea is lovely, and this is a lovely home,” Mrs. Benton said, in a tone that indicated she didn’t really believe it.

“Thank you,” Mom smiled, riding on top of the disdain.

“It seems …uniquely located. Close to the school, but not isolated.”

What the heck did that mean? It felt like it was another hidden dis of some sort.

Mom said, “It’s been in my family for generations, as well as the school.”

“Yes, Michelle said something about you being distantly related …” She let it hang.

“We founded the school,” Mom said complacently but with force of pride.

I thought to myself, ‘Ha! Chew on that!’

“Ah,” was the only response. Then, needing to regain some superiority, the school was the next target. “It’s a small school but I’ve been told has some prestige,” she nodded. “Please understand it wasn’t my first choice for Michelle, but …she seems to be doing well there.”

Not ‘she likes it’ or anything like that.

Mom said, “Shelly is very smart. We think the world of her.” She beamed at Shelly, who looked so grateful.

“Mom,” Shelly said, “It’s a good school. I like it there.”

“Yes,” her mother said, neutrally.

There was silence again. I noticed that her tea was untouched since that first non-sip.

Mrs. Benton said, “And I understand that your daughter is a friend of Michelle?”

I wanted to answer but knew that the question had been directed to Mom. She gave me a look and said, “The girls have been best friends from the day they met. Years ago.”

“Almost five years,” Shelly said. “Abby’s my best friend ever.” She said it almost as a challenge.

I said, “I think Shelly’s the best person ever.” I got a surprised and warm smile from her.

“I see,” Mrs. Benton said, in that way that wasn’t clear if she did or did not see.

Mom said, “We are always happy to have Michelle stay with us. We love to have her. And that certainly includes this holiday.” She had left things open, I saw. The plan had been that Shelly would stay here, since she hadn’t heard from her mother until a little over an hour ago. Now …who knew?

Mrs. Benton gave a small frown. “It is my intention to have Michelle with me for the holidays.”

“Mom!” Shelly blurted. “Sorry. Okay.” She seemed to sag.

Mrs. Benton eyed her. Then she said, “I was wondering if your daughter would like to accompany us.”

I startled and looked at Shelly, who was just as shocked.

Mom seemed unperturbed. “I’m interested in what that would involve.”

Mrs. Benton said, “My plans are flexible. She has a passport, of course?” It wasn’t a question, though.

“No,” Mom said. “We’d planned to get one in the spring for summer travel.”

This was news to me–or made up on the spot. I suddenly flashed that I couldn’t have a passport because it would say Benjamin!

Mrs. Benton waved a hand. “No matter. I have no real interest in Europe this season. Does she ski? I was thinking Game Creek or Tallus.”

I didn’t know what Tallus was but there had been something on the news about Game Creek that was supposed to be the most expensive ski resort in America. It was in Vail or Aspen; I didn’t remember which.

“Abby has never skied,” Mom said. “Perhaps it’s time for her to learn.”

“It can be enjoyable,” Mrs. Benton said.

I didn’t know how I knew, but I knew somehow that she’d never skied. I’d have to check with Shelly.

“We can take lessons; it’ll be fun!” Shelly said.

Her mother looked at her, blink-blink, and then said, “Perhaps another year.”

Mom said, “Mrs. Benton, what are you proposing, what length of time?”

“Oh, a few weeks, I would think,” Mrs. Benton replied casually.

“You mean past Christmas?” I sort of blurted out. I looked around. “I can’t leave Mom at Christmas!”

Mrs. Benton gave a sigh, sort of like she had to shoulder the world’s burdens, and completely ignored my outburst. “If we forego Vail, perhaps sun is the answer. One of the islands, perhaps.”

I had no idea what Mom was thinking about, but I’d realized that I couldn’t really fly anywhere–no passport or ID proved Abigail Houseman existed, so Shelly’s mom would know about me, and might say we couldn’t be friends, or might even take Shelly out of Morton! I knew in that instant that I had to speak up.

“Mrs. Benton,” I said politely, trying to mirror my mother’s even tone. “I thank you very much for your interest in my accompanying you and Michelle this holiday season. It’s very kind of you, and there’s almost nothing I’d like more than to spend time with your daughter. But there is something more important to me, and that is spending time with my mother. I don’t see her for more than eight days a month, so Winter Break is a special time for us. I thank you for your very kind offer but must respectfully decline.”

Shelly stared at me and then gave me a burning glare–how could I do this to her?

Mom looked at me with a mixture of sadness and pride. She said, “Although I know how much it means to Abby to spend more time with Michelle, and as much as I would love for her to have new experiences, I treasure our Christmas times together as well. And I must add my thanks to hers, Mrs. Benton, and I respect my daughter’s wishes to decline your most gracious offer.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Benton said.

Again, it was unclear whether she did or didn’t–or maybe just didn’t care. I think there was also an undercurrent of …relief?

“Abby!” Shelly whispered furiously, sounding betrayed.

“Michelle,” her mother said in that tone.

“Yes, ma’am.” Shelly sagged.

God, is that the extent of their conversations? I caught a glance from Mom; she seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Mom said, “As I mentioned before, Michelle is more than welcome to spend the holidays with us.”

Mrs. Benton inhaled and looked at the ceiling for a moment. “That might perhaps be arranged.”

“I’ve got my stuff in the car!” Shelly said with enthusiasm.

“Oh, no-no-no,” her mother shook her head once. “I was thinking …perhaps this. I wish Michelle to accompany me but she needn’t spend her entire holiday with me.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Shelly said, trying to be helpful. “Maybe we can video conference on Christmas Day or something.”

I thought she would be disciplined for that as impertinent, but her mother wasn’t troubled in the least; apparently in their world that was very real and practical and probably done a lot. But not doable, this time, for some reason.

“We have some business to conduct first, but perhaps next week sometime you might return …”

Mom said, “Michelle is most welcome at any time. Might I suggest something that may or may not fit in with your plans? Abby and I will be spending some time in Manhattan for various events, ballet, some shows, perhaps. We could perhaps rendezvous and then return here with Michelle for Christmas Day or the day after?”

Mrs. Benton did the inhale-ceiling-look thing again that I realized was her way of organizing her thoughts. “Yes, that might be possible. I rather like the idea of Manhattan during Christmas week. Yes, that is possible. We will arrive in Manhattan on the twenty-second or twenty-third.” She waved a hand at how trivial dates were to her.

Mom said, “We will stay flexible, then. Until we hear from you or Michelle. At some point we will rendezvous, see the sights, and then return with Michelle to Hartford. And, if I understand correctly, Michelle will remain with us until school commences in January? And that is perfectly fine with us, by the way.”

Mrs. Benton nodded slowly. “Excellent. Yes. A plan. Well.” She stood. “Your home is quite lovely. And thank you for the lovely tea.”

She’s reversing, I realized; she’s saying the same entry lines as her exit lines.

There was that fingertip handshake thing society ladies do.

“Come, Michelle,” Mrs. Benton said.

Shelly was frowning.

I quickly said, “Mrs. Benton? I have a little present I want to give Shelly–Michelle–that will just take a moment. And I’ll send her right out.”

Mrs. Benton nodded. “Don’t be long, Michelle.” Turning to me. “A pleasure finally meeting you, Abigail.” Turning to Mom. “And you, Mrs. Houseman.” There was no pleasure in her eyes; only the desire to leave.

“And you as well, Mrs. Benton,” Mom said, still smiling graciously. How does she do that?

Mom led Mrs. Benton to the door and they went out. As soon as the door was closed, Shelly whirled on me.

“How could you do that, Abby? We had three whole weeks together!” She looked hurt.

“Shelly, there’s nothing more I’d love than three weeks hanging out with you, but geez, girl–think about it! Everything she mentioned was traveling. She asked about the passport. Then Vail, and ‘the islands’ …”

“The islands! Yes! Cute bikinis! We’d get tanned!” she nearly wailed. “And you didn’t want to?”

“I did want to–I do want to!” I cried in response. “But the Department of Homeland Security would want to know why a boy named Benjamin was wearing a bikini!”

It was like I’d hit her. She froze, stunned, her eyes wide–and then she burst out laughing. “Omigod! I never thought …oh, God! That would be so …” She shook her head, laughing. “Good thing you were thinking!”

“It’s not just the weirdness or the embarrassment,” I said. “I could take that. But your mom would be told and–”

Shelly’s hand flew to her mouth. “Omigod–you’re right! She’d never let me speak to you again! She might even–”

“Yank you out of the school,” I nodded solemnly.

Shelly glanced at the door. “I gotta get out there. But you did give me a present! I was sitting there wondering why my best friend didn’t want to spend time with me. But you were thinking of me all the time!”

“And you were thinking of me and saved me from Steve and the guys today. I love you, Shell!”

“Love you, Abby!” She headed to the door. “God, I can’t wait until Manhattan!”

Chapter 11: Car Talk

Mom came back in and we looked at each other. “Interesting woman,” Mom said.

“Interesting?” I was surprised at the word. “She’s like a character in a bad movie or something. A caricature.”

“Yes, I agree,” Mom nodded, smiling. “Very perceptive, honey. An excellent word …caricature. And that makes her interesting.”

“I don’t agree,” I said. “As much as I want to spend time with Shelly, the thought of time with her …” I shuddered theatrically. “But …come on; interesting?”

“Did you have any sense of the woman? I mean, an actual person?” Mom asked. “You said ‘a character in a movie’ and even Shelly herself said ‘cartoon’.”

I thought for a moment and then nodded. “No, you’re right. Unless I missed something. It was all …surface. Like there was a box of costumes and pieces and she wanted to put together the costume for a Rich Bi–” I checked myself.

Mom laughed. “I know what you meant to say, don’t worry! And you’re right. It’s a character type. It’s all surface. I think there’s a deeply …missing person somewhere. I think she’s trapped in some image that she thinks is essential to maintain. I wonder …” She looked thoughtful.

I asked her ‘What?’ but she brushed it off and said for me to grab my coat and purse. I did automatically, still feeling the happy buzz at hearing her say that–and being able to do it. My coat was a long dark herringbone with black collar and cuffs, and I decided I’d better switch to boots because of the snow. My new boots were my newest pride and joy; we’d only gotten them the previous weekend because snow had been predicted.

In the car my phone rang; it was Shelly.

“Look, I only have a little bit of time before she comes back. We’re at the airport and she’s hassling somebody about something. As usual.”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“LA, I think. She seemed to like you and I’ve been talking up you and your mom like crazy. You guys were great and is she there?”

“Hold on,” I said, and handed the phone to Mom who drove one-handed, despite the law.

“Hi, Shelly. Tell your mother it was a pleasure to meet her–” She paused. “Doesn’t matter if it was or not, just tell her, alright? Specifically, it was a pleasure to meet her. Okay. Is there anything I can do for you? Or both of us can do?”

She listened and nodded. Then she said, “I suspected something like that. Again, can I help you?”

She listened again for longer, and then said, “Alright. And I actually agree whole-heartedly. Think wonderful thoughts and know that we love you. Here’s Abby.”

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Your mom can tell you. Listen, I think you’ve got to really, really consider dropping the whole Benjamin thing. Not just so you can fly–crap, here she comes. But Benjamin’s not you, babe! Start the new year as yourself, as Abby. Oh, hi, Mom,” she said louder. “Just saying ‘bye’ to Abby and her mom. You want to say hello?” There was silence and then Shelly said, “She’s going back to yell at somebody. Man. Okay, just …think about it. Talk with your mom, your doctors, Mrs. Carey …you’ve got to factor in Steve Duncan, too. He’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Iceberg?”

“As long as you’re a gay Benjamin, you’re a target.”

“If I’m a trans girl, I’m one, too.”

“Not if you handle it right! Geez, Abby, lie your pretty little butt off! It’s a medical thing; you’ve always been a girl, just had a weird clitoris that looked like a penis, but hey, anybody taking a look at you over the last ten years would say you’re a girl, and now you’re developing breasts–wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles. Doesn’t that prove you’re a girl? Always were a girl?”

“But that’s because of the pills–”

“God, you’re too honest for your own good, Abby! Think about it–gotta go; she’s waving me to the gate. Love you-love you-love you!” The phone went dead.

Mom drove us to a mall in West Hartford, parked and then turned to me. “I’m figuring that most Morton students won’t be heading to this mall the afternoon they’re let out of Winter Break. So the chances are slim that you’ll run into anybody you know. What are your thoughts?”

“Well, I’m nervous, but I think it’s more excitement than fear of running into anybody.” Steve Duncan was first and foremost in my mind.

“So will you come in and shop with me?”

“Yes, of course, Mom,” I said, giving her a look. Why had she phrased it that way?

Mom didn’t move to get out of the car. Instead, she tucked her chin onto her chest, deep in thought. I sat back and let her think. Actually, it was the first bit of downtime I’d had all day. Then Mom took a deep breath.

“I want to discuss something with you; it will be something we talk about at length but I want to …put it out there, as they say.”

“So …put away, Mom,” I grinned.

“What did Shelly tell you at the end of her call?”

“Um …that I should drop Benjamin. She meant now. Like …now.”

Mom nodded.

I waited for her to say something. “That’s it,” I said.

She nodded again.

“Mom?”

She looked around the parking lot and then turned and faced me. “Sweetheart, this isn’t the best place for this but it is the time. I loved Benjamin but I’ll be perfectly honest. There always seemed to be something missing in him; your father had thought it was because there was girl within you that was suppressed.”

“Yes, you told me that.”

“By suppressing that part of you, Benjamin could never be a whole person. Do you see that?”

“Yes.”

She gave me a look and said forcefully, “Don’t just agree. It’s vitally important that you understand that fundamental truth. Benjamin could never become a whole person. We didn’t know why, but we do now.”

“Because I’m Abigail. I mean, even though I didn’t have the name, it was like …” I looked out the window, gathering my thoughts. “It’s like Abby had to be asleep for Benjamin to function. And, yeah, I think that …she peeked out every so often. Shelly saw her peeking out the first time we met.”

“Yes. And others have commented on it.”

“Who?”

“Just people, strangers, others …” She frowned. “Even Barbara Carey told me I had a daughter, years ago.”

“She knew?” I was truly shocked.

“Like you said, Abby peeked out through the Benjamin mask every so often. And people noticed.”

I sighed. “Thought I’d had it under control. Trying to be a boy.”

“And, quite honestly, failing miserably at it, don’t you think?”

I nodded. “Not equipped for the job …” Then I laughed. “Actually, I was given the tool but no instruction manual!”

She stared for a moment before she understood and then laughed heartily. “That’s borderline naughty, but maybe that makes it all the more accurate! Oh, sometimes you’re too smart for your age!” She sighed. “Right. The reason I’m bringing all this up now is that things are coming to a head. Your life is changing faster and beyond things you can control. Just today makes that very apparent. From not having proper ID to fly, to being seriously threatened by boys who won’t go away. To the fact that …you just aren’t a boy anymore. You’re not a boy at school and a girl at home. At school, you’re a neuter, a cipher. A mask. Would you agree?”

I nodded. “Sorry. I tried my best. So I kept my head down and …you know. Tried to be invisible.”

“And invisible is no way to go through life,” she said firmly. “So. What I’m proposing to you, Abigail Elizabeth Houseman, is that we put an end to Benjamin Thomas Houseman. Tonight.”

I actually gasped. “But …Dr. Nielson said …and school …”

“We’ve actually discussed this, your doctors and I. Last night and this afternoon, and when Shelly called me and told me about the Duncan boy and the gang, I called them again. The issue of identification that prevented you from some fun with Shelly was the final straw. We’re all in agreement, your doctors and I–but ultimately it’s your decision.”

“But school …”

“You sound like you don’t want to become Abby.”

“I do. I do! But …are you saying that it’s okay with Mrs. Carey if I …” I could feel my eyes widen. “You mean I could be Abby in January?”

Mom nodded. “It may be unavoidable now.” Her smile was tight. “Young Mr. Duncan and his cronies may have done you a favor. How you handle January …we’ll have to work on that.”

“Shelly says to lie,” I said, frowning.

“Lie? She surprises me.”

“She said to tell anybody that it’s a …it’s always been a medical condition. That I was female at birth and that …she was kind of graphic. She said I should say that my clitoris was mistaken for a penis and they said I was a boy. But that I’ve always been a girl, and that when I started developing breasts, it was obvious. But not to mention that I’d taken pills or anything.”

Mom was nodding. “There’s actually a lot more truth than lie in that. I can see where it would …check off a lot of boxes. My goodness, that Shelly is a smart girl! We’ll keep that idea around; it may be your best bet, eventually. And while you don’t want to go around talking about your clitoris, you could say something like …‘a birth defect that made something look like a boy’s’. You know, a general sort of nudge-nudge.” She nodded again. “She’s a smart girl.”

“Yeah, if she’s so smart, why ain’t she rich? Oh, wait a minute–she is!” I joked.

Mom chuckled. “Come on. Time to jump in the deep end.”

Chapter 12: The Deep End

I still wasn’t sure what she meant until we almost headed into Claire’s, the teen-girl Mecca. I froze and grabbed Mom’s arm.

“Wait a minute, Mom!” I tugged her to the side and leaned close. “Are you thinking about me getting my ears pierced?”

She gave me a blank look. “Do you want that?”

“More than anything! But …doesn’t it cause problems with school? I can’t hide them.”

Mom said, “I think the time for hiding is over, don’t you? That’s what we were talking about in the car. Putting an end to Benjamin? Tonight? Well, this is the first step.”

I started to say, “If you think I won’t get into trouble, I–”

My phone rang. I frowned and Mom nodded; since I wasn’t one of those kids who was constantly getting called, it was unusual and should be checked. I was surprised; it was Chen Lu.

“Hello?” I asked, tentatively.

“Um …hello?” her voice came through. “Um …who am I speaking to?”

“Lu? It’s Abby,” I said.

I heard the relief in her voice. “Oh, thank goodness! Listen, Abby, are you okay? I heard about Steve Duncan.”

I frowned and looked at Mom and said, “Where are you? I thought you were heading home?”

“Oh, I am already; I left Thursday right after school. I’m back in San Francisco.”

Mom guided us to a bench and we sat as I continued the call. “That’s why you weren’t in–hey, if you’re in San Francisco, how do you know about Steve? That was just a few hours ago.”

“News travels fast. I think Monica Shelton was there?”

“Yes. She helped me get away, her and Shelly.”

“Monica’s brother called me. He’s got a crush on me,” she giggled. “And I got his take on it, from a boy’s angle, and then called Mon and she told me exactly what happened. You got away okay, right?”

“Yes. Thanks to Mon and Shelly. Shell called a cab and they hustled me right into it. Steve and the guys came stomping out just as the cab pulled away.”

“God, you’re lucky,” she breathed.

“Yeah. But thank you for caring, and calling me, Lu. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, babe!” She kind of cleared her throat–it was hard to tell with the long distance. “Listen, Abby, I’ve got to say something or I’m going to go crazy. Don’t be mad at me, okay? I’m probably butting my nose in where it’s not wanted.”

“Lu, you’re my friend. You can say anything, okay?”

“Okay. And you’re mine, too. Um …okay.”

“You said okay already,” I teased.

“Yeah,” she giggled, and then took a breath to start. “Okay–God, I can’t stop!”

“It’s because you don’t want to start. Just jump in,” I said, thinking of Mom’s comment about ‘the deep end’.

Lu said, “This is the thing. I’ve been thinking about this for …ever since you told me about Abby. And now this thing with Duncan …Well, I think you should seriously consider being Abby. All the time. Get it straightened out with the school–”

“Wait a second, Lu. Bad reception on my cell phone,” I lied, looking at Mom. “Go ahead and tell me again. Lu, what did you say about being Abby?”

I had pushed the ‘speaker’ button and held the phone between Mom and I and we leaned close.

Lu said, “I said I think you should seriously consider being Abby all the time. Talk with the school and see if they’ll let you do it right away. I mean, like January, you know?”

“You think I should stop being Benjamin?” I asked, looking at Mom. She had a small smile.

“Babe, you stopped being Benjamin about, oh …forever,” she giggled. “Seriously, I love you, and I know you’re trying to be a boy, but you’re no darned good at it. And you give the gay boys a hard time of it, sort of, because you’re not like them. They’re effeminate and flaunt it, but you’re feminine and spend your time hiding it. Stop hiding! You’re a girl, silly, so start being one!”

“Actually, Lu, my mom and I were thinking along the same lines.”

“Good. I bet Shelly thinks that way, too.”

“Absolutely,” I grinned. “God, I love you, Lu. Thank you for saying this! And you’re such a good friend, and I miss you even more, now!”

“I’m getting dirty looks from my mother–she just walked in. I’ve gotta wrap this up. I’ll call you in a few days. Just …think about it, okay? I think you’ll be happier–no, I know you’ll be happier, because you’ll be you! Bye, Abby, gotta go!”

And Mom and I stared at each other over the phone. She raised an eyebrow.

“Well?”

I looked at Claire’s. I said, “Maybe I need a couple of holes in my head …”

She laughed as we stood and entered.

I couldn’t get over the timing of everything, from Shelly’s mom to Lu’s phone call, and how the almost-attack by Steve Duncan seemed to have catalyzed things. Certainly my mother was convinced, and my reluctance was fear about the next semester, but I asked myself which was more important: Laying low as miserable Benjamin or finally living my life as Abby? And after the Duncan business, laying low might not even be an option anymore. These thoughts occupied my mind as I followed Mom into Claire’s and right up to the point where I suddenly had the pop-pop and realized that I had pierced ears! I looked in the mirror and, yeah, they were only gold studs, but they were my gold studs in my ears!

Mom beamed. “I can tell how happy you are! Okay, let’s pick up some goodies!”

And we picked several sets of earrings, and some necklaces and some rings and a lot of bracelets and some scarves and I was just buzzing with happiness.

Walking back into the mall, I hugged Mom. “Thank you, Mom, for allowing me to …” I couldn’t think how to finish.

She did, though. “For allowing you. That’s all you need to say. I’m allowing you to be you.”

“I’m not even going to think about my first day back at school until maybe the night before.”

She nodded. “Good idea, because you don’t know what to expect, and things may change, so why spend time and effort agonizing over something too soon?”

That made sense and I could actually feel some relief. But then Mom steered me into Diventaré , a high-end salon. I turned to Mom. “Are you getting something done?”

She grinned. “Tempting, but no. But one of us is, I hope!”

Before I could speak, she led me to the hostess of sorts, a tall silver-haired woman who looked more like a manager. Mom spoke in a different voice than I’d heard her use before.

“Yes, I’ve finally convinced my daughter to drop the whole tomboy routine.” She rolled her eyes theatrically. “I’m hoping you can squeeze her in quickly, before she changes her mind.”

The woman smiled. “My niece went through a tomboy phase. Drove my sister crazy for years! Let me see what we can do.” She flipped through the book.

I thought ‘why not just turn around and look at the empty chairs?’ but I guess proprieties must be observed. The woman looked at her watch and said, “Miko can take her in ten minutes. Would you care for a glass of wine while you’re waiting?”

“Yes, please, that would be lovely,” Mom said in that different voice.

She accepted the wine which seemed to appear out of nowhere, and we sat. I leaned over and spoke quietly.

“You’re drinking wine?”

“I’ve been known to enjoy a glass of wine now and then. But who said anything about drinking?”

“But she …” I realized she’d accepted an offer of a glass. “You’re splitting hairs semantically?”

She grinned. “You’re thirteen and throwing around words like ‘semantically’?” She laughed slightly. “You are your father’s daughter.”

That sentence made my heart leap for joy; warmth spread throughout me. But I also felt humbled, and all I could say was, “I love you, Mom.” And I so wished my father was there with us.

“I love you, Abigail-girl-of-my-heart, and yes, I wish he were here, too.”

Freaky how she could read my mind.

We sat with her not drinking her wine but occasionally lifting the glass; I guess it was courtesy on both sides between Mom and the hostess. Then a round-faced Japanese woman walked up, smiling. Her hair was long and straight and had bangs straight across over her eyebrows, and she was dressed entirely in black.

“Abby?” Miko asked.

“Miko?” I smiled, and she nodded.

Mom stood with me and I remembered the last words she’d said before Miko’s arrival–‘Let them do their job’. I’d said ‘Huh?’ and Mom explained that it was all going to be new to me but not to feel embarrassed because she’d used the ‘tomboy phase’ excuse to explain why a pretty girl like me didn’t know salon procedure.

That had startled me; aside from the brilliance of the little white lie. I’d asked Mom, “You really think I’m pretty?”

“I’m your mother so I’d have to say that, sweetie!” she grinned. “But in your case it’s true. Benjamin was a …questionable young boy, but Abigail is definitely a pretty girl. And as such, she would have had close to ten years of having her hair and nails done and wouldn’t be just wearing a pair of starter earrings at thirteen. So the tomboy thing explains why a genuinely pretty girl has never set foot in a salon.”

This was on my mind as I realized that the hostess and Miko both treated me as if I were, as Mom had said, a genuinely pretty girl.

Huh!

I was led to a changing robe where I partially undressed and wore a black robe. Then I was shampooed and massaged–that alone almost made me purr!–and then Miko began working on me. And after what seemed like a lot of cutting, she began wrapping bits of hair in foil and painting them. I asked her what was going on. I was worried but trying to ‘let her do her job’ as Mom had said.

Miko told me she was ‘brightening’ my hair. I had no more information than when I’d asked the question, so I just nodded. Then Miko supplied the missing piece of the puzzle.

“Your mother ask for this,” Miko said, never letting up on the brushing.

But then an older woman came up to with a rolling cart and took my right hand and began doing something to it. I slowly glanced down–to not disturb Miko’s work–and the woman was stripping my nail polish! Gee, I’d only had it on about two hours, and I liked that shade! But I lay back.

Miko seemed to be done with my hair but then began putting goop on my eyebrows. Ah, to match the brightening, whatever that is, I thought? Then she put a hand on me, said something, and rip and yow! I’d twitched and was just settling back for a second rip and Miko smiled and bent to work again on my brows. Okay, they can grow back, I thought. But in three weeks?

The nail lady had moved to my left hand; all the poking and prodding and funny feelings were blurring together and it had been a school day and the run from Steve Duncan and I just drifted off a bit, I guess. The next thing I knew I was being brushed by Miko. I shook myself, feeling a little fuzzy, and yawned slightly. I could see my feet, and was surprised that my shoes were off and my toenails had plum nail polish! I hadn’t done that at home; I’d only been thinking about my fingers and didn’t have that much time to get ready before Shelly’s mom would arrive.

I looked up and saw Mom standing a few feet away, smiling at me. Actually, smiling didn’t do her justice. She was radiating happiness, broadcasting it, with a huge smile, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, sweetie!” was all she said.

Miko appeared next to her. “Good?” she asked.

“Great!” Mom nodded.

Miko smiled and then turned to me. “Okay, you look.” She spun the chair around.

I remember once seeing a novelty snow-globe, but not like the typical snow-globe that had a city or mountain scene–a winter scene. The novelty one I’d seen was a beach, with a beach umbrella and beach ball and those folding chairs and on the little backdrop you could see the ocean in the distance. And when you shook it up, it snowed. It was just kind of slamming the two seasons together.

For some reason that silly snow-globe came to mind when I looked in the mirror.

It took a moment but then I knew it was me. My eyes looked at my eyes and there I was in a chair and there was Mom and Miko in the reflection. But it wasn’t Benjamin, and it wasn’t Abby as I’d gotten used to seeing in the mirror over the last month.

This was a really pretty girl.

I was glad that I had that moment of not knowing it was me, because it gave me a chance to give an honest, objective assessment. Modesty didn’t enter into it, or embarrassment, or vanity, or anything else. It was just my reaction observing a girl …who was really pretty.

And she was me, and instantly I felt more confident. ‘So that’s what Mom meant,’ I thought. Then I realized that Mom hadn’t seen this girl. So …

My hair was still past my shoulders but flowed. It swept down with feminine grace, framing my face. And especially complementing my eyebrows, which were now delicate arches. They and my hair were, yes, brighter than I remembered, but not colored. Not streaky highlights, either. Just …brighter.

I reached up to my hair and saw the plum nail polish and suddenly realized that my nails were longer! She’d put some fake nails or extensions or wraps or whatever they’re called–I had so much to learn!–but they were just a bit longer than my old nails and were feminine ovals.

And I had some makeup …how long had I been asleep?

It wasn’t movie-star stuff, just mascara, eye shadow, subtle liner, some blush and lipstick, but omigod it looked wonderful!

Mom said, “Do you like it?”

“I love it! Everything!” I said. I spun the chair to smile at Miko. “Thank you, Miko! And the other lady that helped–thank you both!”

The hostess had walked up and shook her head. “How in the world did that beautiful girl ever think she was a boy?”

Her remark freaked me out. I glanced at Mom who seemed unperturbed. Did the woman guess about me, somehow? But her next remark relieved me.

“The whole tomboy thing …” She shook her head. “I acknowledge it, but I just don’t get it. I can never understand why such a pretty girl wouldn’t want to be pretty!”

I didn’t have an answer for that, so I said, “It’s not me; it’s really good work from Miko and the other lady. Thank you.”

The hostess smiled. “And she’s polite and gracious, too,” she smiled at Mom. “But now you’re going to have your hands full! The boys will be chasing her!”

Inside, a little voice screamed at the reality that a few hours ago, that was exactly what had happened–but not the way she meant!

And, of course, it meant that Mom and I would be talking about boys …

End of Part 4