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My life changed that wonderful year—the year that I stopped being Anthony and started my life as Ann.

Cross-Country: Skiing, by Karin Bishop

Part 2

Chapter 4: Christmas Day

The next morning was a dream. I was wearing my flannel nightie, feeling very ‘turn of the century’, like Judy Garland in Meet Me In St. Louis. I pulled on my robe and slippers and met Mom going into the kitchen, where we had tea and toast. Mom had played a trick on me; every Christmas Eve I’d put out a glass of milk and a plate of cookies for Santa. When I was little, Mom had left a note ‘in Santa’s handwriting’ on Christmas morning thanking me. This year she did the same, only the note was from Mrs. Claus, and she sealed it with a lipstick kiss! It made me chuckle and then hug her.

We quickly dispensed with our modest presents; I couldn’t wait to see her face when she got mine. I’d found a watchmaker who could repair a family heirloom watch that she’d always loved; he’d had to gut the thing and install a quartz movement but externally it looked the same, only shined up. And working! I’d also gotten some of her favorite cologne and some odds and ends. When she opened the watch she frowned, then studied it, then her mouth did an ‘O’ in astonishment at seeing the hands move for the first time, and then tears. As we hugged I thought that it had taken months and every little bit of money I had but the joy on Mom’s face was my best Christmas present.

I was so touched by Mom’s presents, because they were unambiguously feminine. A delicate gold necklace and some other jewelry; black stretchy slacks that I’d wanted; some pretty sweaters; a purse-sized spray of Trésor; some gift certificates for the mall, and an envelope. Inside was a certificate for the Helen Sherman Modeling School, for a complete charm, poise, and modeling course! I threw my arms around Mom and suddenly burst out crying.

“Annie, what’s wrong, honey? Don’t you want the course? I wasn’t insulting you.”

“I know you weren’t,” I said between sobs. “And I do want the course. I’m just so happy! Last night was wonderful, and everything today is what a girl would want; I’m just so sad that we haven’t had Christmases like this before. Think of all we’ve been missing!”

She chuckled ruefully and patted my back. “I know, honey; I know. I think about it sometimes. But instead of thinking about what we’ve missed, we should focus on Christmases we’ll be sharing!”

I thought about what she’d said as we cleaned up the wrapping, and figured that I could always make up my Christmases Past as a girl. In fact, it might be kind of fun, imagining what I’d worn and what I’d received. We talked about it for awhile, in the lazy, drowsy part of a Christmas afternoon, and Mom pursed her lips and frowned.

“You know, I’ve been so busy …I don’t know …imparting wisdom to you that I haven’t really shared too much. About growing up, I mean.”

We were sitting on the couch with the zillionth re-run of It’s A Beautiful Life on the TV, and had refreshed our cocoa mugs. I sat with my legs tucked under me, as I now did all the time.

“It’s your first responsibility as a mother—the imparting wisdom thing,” I smiled at her. “I understood.”

“Thank you for that,” she nodded. “I was thinking about growing up, how universal and yet unique it is. Universal in the sense that there are milestones, events that are common to every child, events that are common to just boys or just girls, and then events that are unique to the individual boy or girl’s family and circumstances.”

“Okay …” I grinned and laid my head back on the couch. “Pretty heavy for a lazy day.”

She chuckled. “Not really. I meant, every child matures—at different rates, of course—but they go from selfish, squalling infants to teens relatively engaged with the outside world. Boys do boy things like Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts and camping trips. Little League. Girls can Brownies and Girl Scouts—camping trips, too—and a lot play soccer, but there are also things that are exclusive to girls, like their first Christmas dresses, for example.”

“Just wore mine!” I smiled with happiness.

“And you were gorgeous in it, too, sweetheart,” she smiled as she squeezed my hand. “But things like, I don’t know …growing up poor, or rich, or black or Asian, or in Alaska or Florida—or in Sweden or Paraguay, for that matter—these are things that a child has no control over, yet they shape how that child grows …” She trailed off, thinking.

It was a very true statement and I didn’t think it needed me to say anything in response so I sipped my mug in silence.

Finally, she was ready to talk. “I guess what I was trying to say in my convoluted way was …however you got to where you are, all the twists and turns and circumstances, you are a wonderful girl. A wonderful person. But you don’t have a life, in the sense of a past. As Ann, I mean. And I can tell you stories about my girlhood and don’t roll your eyes and say, ‘But Mother, those are from the previous millennium!’—even though it’s true!—but the …universal thing; that’s what I meant. And people are people so a lot of the things that people said or did are timeless. So maybe you can learn a bit from me, if I share.”

I squeezed her hand back. “I’d like that. And even if it doesn’t apply to me, I’d love to learn more about you, for us to grow closer together.”

“Doesn’t apply to you? What, do you think I’m talking about learning to prepare dinosaur steaks or something?” she chuckled.

I nodded, solemnly. “And the five-year courtship before they allow you to ride in the horse-and-buggy with the boy.”

She burst out laughing at that.

And, dinosaurs and buggies aside, she began telling me about her girlhood in ways that she never had. And she updated some things—not the event that occurred to her, but sort of translated or annotated into modern terms. For instance, when she was a girl, her mother felt there was a bit of a stigma to girls who used tampons—and there was no ‘junior’ size and teen marketing campaign at the time—so Mom’s teen periods were all with pads. She had the usual horrifying story about the embarrassment of an early period, but she updated the story to include what she’d learned about teen girls using tampons. She used them herself, now, of course. But it was a wonderful, sharing and learning story between us.

She had some stories about boys and we shared some giggles, but as the early darkness fell, so did her mood.

“I never told you this, really,” she said with a sad, thoughtful face. “You might have picked up glimmers, pieces here and there. Your father and I …” She looked out the window and the pause went on for a long time.

“It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

She gave a sad chuckle. “That’s the thing. Whether I want to or not doesn’t enter into it; it’s about what I have to do, as a responsible mother. And as a woman. To her daughter, I mean.”

I waited in silence; she took a sip of now-cold cocoa and made a face, but whether at the cocoa or the topic, I didn’t know.

“Your father was no good. Moderately successful, yeah, but as a person, as a man …not so good. He never did what he wanted to, and it kind of made him sad. And a little bitter.”

“What do you mean, not what he wanted to?”

“He sold insurance. Safe, secure, reputable job, blah-blah-blah. He wanted to be a photographer. So he had a little business on the side, shooting things for hire. He’d shoot businesses, documenting them for whatever reason. Some local theatre companies, a few local ads. A few weddings, too, but didn’t really have the feel for them. Wasn’t comfortable with the people; made them uncomfortable. That should have tipped me off!” She frowned again. “I’ve told you how we met and I won’t bore you with that, because I want to get to the heart of the matter. For years, I …”

I knew enough to let her silence go on. As much as I wanted to reheat the cocoa, I didn’t move; I didn’t want to break the mood.

Finally she began speaking again. “You were an infant so you don’t have to worry about the blame thing that kids of divorce fall into. It wasn’t anything you said or did; heck—you weren’t even talking!”

“I know that, Mom. I just figured you guys …married too soon or something.”

“A diplomatic way of putting it,” she nodded, considering the phrase. “Shouldn’t have married at all. I should have been one of his flings—” She snapped her head around to me, realizing she’d said too much. “Well, that slipped out! Yes, Donna had warned me but I married him anyway. I didn’t have to; I could have been just another girl. He had …several. Before we were married, of course.” Her jaw tightened. “And after.”

“Oh, Mom!” I gasped.

She shrugged. “Too stupid to notice. No, not stupid …too conservative to notice. It was that conservatism, from the way I was raised, that made me want him to marry me. Then sex would be okay. If I’d been just a little bit looser, a bit more casual, we could have slept together, had some fun, and gone our separate ways. But no; I had to be married first …”

I realized she was wrestling with demons from her upbringings and I just squeezed her hand and waited.

Mom tilted her head. “Here’s the thing …He took off pretty much right after you were born. I never really knew why he waited that long. But he …already had another honey and I guess the time was right for him to go. But I didn’t really care, that much. I mean, I didn't fight for him that hard.” She hung her head. “You might remember Rose making a comment, last spring when you first saw her? She warned me that having bigger boobs wouldn’t hold onto him, and if they did, he wasn’t worth holding anyway.”

Involuntarily, I gasped. She was talking about the inserts that I’d worn until my own little breasts started developing. Now I knew that Mom had bought them as a last-ditch attempt to hold onto my father—and they hadn’t worked.

She nodded sadly. “Yeah, you figured it out. But, we got some good use out of ‘em! Anyway, like I was saying, here’s the thing: Eventually I came to the conclusion that your father had entered my life with the express reason of giving me a child. Then his usefulness was over and he was free to go. It’s more comforting to think of it that way. He was good-looking and healthy so the genes were okay. And even though the child he gave me was male, he didn’t stick around. So ‘fathering a child’ was his importance, but not the ‘fathering’ that comes afterwards. After he left, and there was a part of me that really thought that the point was for me to raise that son so he wouldn’t be a carbon-copy of his father. That was my task. To make a good man, a better man. But to discover that I have a daughter, well, that’s the real cosmic joke.”

“I’m a cosmic joke?” I blurted out.

She laughed. “No, no, sweetie! I meant, the joke on me. Because, having a daughter, there’s no way I’d have to worry about her being a carbon-copy of her father!” She began laughing. “So I guess I did make a better man!”

I realized what she meant and joined her laughter. Then I took our mugs, went to the kitchen and threw out the old cocoa and heated and poured the remainder.

I brought them back out and tucked my legs under me on the couch and grinned at her.

“Tell me about your first kiss!”

Chapter 5: Hanging with Lisa

Around noon the next day, Lisa called and we made plans for me to go over for the afternoon. They lived all the way across town so Mom said she’d look into the stores there while I was at Lisa’s.

Ah, but what to wear? Thanks to Mom’s suggestions and gifts, I wore some black leggings and flats and one of my new Christmas presents, an oversized black and red sweater. I brushed my hair fully and used a white ribbon as a head band. A spritz of my new Trésor and I was ready.

My mom dropped me off at Lisa’s house; Lisa’s late father had been a CEO or something, and the house showed lots of money. Mom chatted with Margaret for a few minutes before heading out to the mall. Lisa came bouncing down the stairs wearing sweats.

“Hey, Annie, come on up.”

I looked at Mom, who told me she’d be back in two hours. She and Margaret went back and forth about staying for dinner; I left them still at it and followed Lisa up to her room.

It was fantastic. Just like Jane Harrington’s, it was everything I’d wish for in a girl’s bedroom, with a canopied bed, huge vanity, lace everywhere and the biggest closet I’d ever seen. I think my jaw hit the floor when Lisa asked if I wanted a Diet Coke, because when I said yes, she went to a small fridge by the closet, like a hotel minibar. I hadn’t seen it at first because she had candles and a lacy tablecloth on it. She turned and saw my stare.

“What? The fridge?”

I was still stunned. “Yeah, it’s ...well, it’s really cool.”

She handed me a little plastic bottle. “It’s out of an old cabin we used to have; I just keep it full of Coke so I don’t have to go downstairs to the kitchen all the time. The only problem is the small size is the only one that fits.” She clinked—or ‘thwocked’—the little bottles with me and took a drink. “Breakfast of champions,” she grinned.

Already she seemed more earthy and relaxed than I thought she’d be. I’d always worshipped her from afar, so to speak, because I only saw her on occasional holidays and she was always so gorgeous. Sitting on her bed, sipping her Coke, she was a lot funkier and cooler than I’d imagined.

We talked about everything. Makeup, schools, music, and boys. Okay, the last part kind of threw me.

“Lisa, this is kind of weird for me.”

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Because part of you thinks it’s wrong?”

“No! ...Well, yeah, I guess. It’s just that I really haven’t thought about ...boys much. Well, not that much!”

“Annie, you’ve got to get a grip on reality. No, that’s wrong; wait a minute ...” she trailed off while she collected her thoughts. “Okay, I realized where it’s wrong. Bear with me and please don’t interrupt or I’ll lose my train of thought. More Coke first, though.”

I was only sipping mine, so after she grabbed a second, she started in. “I said that you’ve got to get a grip on reality, and I realized where that’s wrong. Because—you’ve already been able to change reality. Or rather, you’re changing your reality as you go along. Your reality—and everyone else’s—was that you were a boy named Anthony. And, no offense, but Anthony was a meek kind-of-nothing guy, like everybody’s kid brother.”

“No offense taken.” I smiled to show I agreed.

“Cool. Anyway, the truth came out about Ann, so what happened was that you changed the ‘Anthony’ reality, so to speak, to the ‘Ann’ reality. And by changing your own reality, you’ve changed everybody else’s, because the ‘Anthony’ reality is gone. So you can’t keep any of that ‘Anthony’ stuff—I mean, you keep your Mom and where you live and knowing the Maxwells and all that, but not the ‘Anthony’ part—because it isn’t real any more. Ann is.”

“Thank you.” I raised my bottle to her as a toast.

“You’re welcome. But I mean it—you’ve got to totally get in the ‘Ann’ reality. Which leads us back to the subject of boys. I understand that Tony didn’t think of boys. And he was young, too, but it was probably just too weird, too heavy, for him to think about boys. But Ann will. And should. But right now, Ann still has some of the Tony hangups. So …lose them.” She waved dismissively. “You don’t need ‘em. Embrace the girl you are.”

“I’ll try.” I didn’t tell her about Amy’s brother Ted at the summer barbecue …

“Cool. So ...what about Jeff?” She grinned wickedly.

“Jeff? Jeff Maxwell? Are you nuts?”

She laughed. “Geez, Ann; he’s nuts about you. I told you he thinks you’re a babe. He just can’t handle it. But you’ve got to be aware of it, right?”

I thought about it for a moment, and decided that, deep down, I really didn’t want to know about it. I just wanted to put it behind me—to bury it somewhere—because it would just make a mess of things. And, to tell the truth I really didn’t care for Jeff in any way, shape or form.

So I said, “Bottom line—I just don’t care for him. I mean, I’ve known him since we were babies and ...he’s a jerk.”

She giggled. “Yeah; he really is. Well, you show good taste. So ...who do you think is cute?”

She looked at me for an answer. I didn’t really have one, and didn’t know where to go from there.

“Okay, Ann, you asked me to be your ‘Girl Guide’, so I’m going to guide you along. What do you think of any of the new bands? Who’s the cutest?”

So we launched into a combined music and boys discussion. I was pretty used to this now, from hanging with Jane—until she met Paul—but especially with Kelly and Christina. Still, there was some weirdness at discussing boys with Lisa, because she’d known Tony. It felt awkward. But I found out very quickly that to Lisa’s mind, it was obvious that Tony was dead and buried. Right now Lisa was talking about boys with a new girlfriend named Ann and I felt any weirdness just melt away. Her acceptance meant so much to me, and even though we went to different schools and rarely saw each other—usually once a year at Christmas—I wanted to keep in touch with her in my new life.

We were starting to get seriously talking about boys, I could tell, when Lisa’s mom called from downstairs—my Mom had come to take me home, and Lisa had to get ready for their church function. Lisa and I came down, and we talked about maybe getting together when I got back from a ski trip that Mom and I were going on with the Maxwells. But she definitely wanted me to call and tell her all about it! Lisa’s mom asked us to dinner at a later date, of course, and we all hugged and promised to get together soon.

On the way home I told Mom how Lisa had gotten me talking about boys—girl-to-girl, I mean.

“You know, Ann, I think she’s exactly right. We’ve talked about this, and it was good for you to hear it from someone else. You’re doing so well with your new friends; it’s only the old friends …or old-new friends …that you have trouble dealing with. I try not to eavesdrop, but I have heard you hem-and-haw with Jane when she brought up the subject of boys. And yet I’ve heard you and Kelly go on and on about boys. I understand how difficult it must be for you, with people that knew Tony, but Jane and especially now, Lisa …” She smiled as she made a turn and started again.”You’ve got to admit that neither girl thinks of you as anything other than another girl named Ann anymore. If they’re able to do that, you should be able to, too, and you know Donna accepts you as well. So it shouldn’t matter if anybody knew Tony or not; just be yourself and fully embrace being a girl, and that means boys, of course. So …it’s time to update your old Mom. How do you feel about boys these days?”

I thought for a moment before answering. “Well, first of all, I haven’t had time to think about it much. We both remember Amy’s brother, back in Nevada?” Mom nodded, smiling. I nodded with her. “It was that night, after you saw how I was with him, that you decided I could start on estrogen. And thank you!”

“My pleasure,” Mom smiled, tilting her head. “And I mean that—it’s my pleasure to see how pretty you are.”

“Flatterer!” I teased. “And you know I’ve seen cute guys here and there, but with the trip back east and back, and getting ready for school, there’s never been time to really get into the subject of boys. Although they’re the first thing on Kelly’s mind!”

We both chuckled; Kelly was a shameless flirt, but playful and innocent.

Mom said, “And, of course, I stuck you in Randolph Berry.”

“Had to, and I thank you for it, Mom,” I nodded. “Really. Yeah, I hated to leave Jane, but I never would have met Kelly and Christina and Roxanne and …” I sighed. “I’m glad there’s nobody that knows Tony there, because it would be more distraction. I don’t mean the …the attraction; I mean distracting by hearing them and having them around as a constant reminder of Tony. But when Kelly and I are at the mall, for instance, sure we’re interested in boys. And I know that I can maybe go on a date, if the boy is cute. And asks me. And doesn’t live around here.”

She chuckled. “Local boys not good enough for you?”

“Mom! I’m not …” I shook my head. “It’s just the chance that they might have heard about Tony, you know?”

“I know, honey,” she said again and frowned. “But we can’t really afford to move, yet.” She stopped at a light and turned to me. “I really think you should have taken that boy up—Ron, was it?—when he asked you to Homecoming.”

“I know,” I said in a small voice. “It was just …too soon. I hadn’t really made any friends and he asked and he’s nice but it was just too soon. So I lied.”

“Yes, you did. Won’t be the first time a girl’s had to lie. But you were attracted to him, right? And I think you and Christina were just starting to hit it off.”

“That’s part of it,” I sighed, as the light changed and she turned back to driving. “The ‘too soon’ thing …it wasn’t that it was too soon to think about boys of anything, it was because there’s this whole …thing about the Homecoming Dance.”

“Major event,” she nodded.

“Major event,” I nodded in agreement. “And hearing the girls talk, and Christina talk and I realized there was so much involved, girl-stuff involved, that I didn’t know. And I was embarrassed and, sure, I could have just made my declaration. ‘Hello, I’m transgendered and I’ve never been a girl getting ready for Homecoming so what do I do?’ but I just …”

“You were enjoying being thought of as a genetic girl.”

“Right. Kind of stuck-up, now that I think of it. I’m not proud that I did that, and looking back, whether I declared myself transgendered or not, I should have told Ron ‘yes’ and then thrown myself on Christina’s mercy for help.”

There was silence. Mom nodded, thinking as she drove. Finally she said, “That might have worked out; no reason why not. But I could tell that you just weren’t ready, that you felt overwhelmed, so I didn’t press.”

“Mom? In the future? If something like this comes up, press. You have my permission. Please press, and get me out of my …fear, I guess.”

“Noted,” Mom grinned, and then steered me back to the main part of her question. “So back to our topic—how do you feel now about thinking about whether a boy is cute?”

“That’s the weird part. Lisa was telling me to get away from any ‘Tony’ thinking, she called it. I think ...Mom, I know that I like boys. It was rough, at first. Each time I would picture a boy as cute or not, I used to have to get over that first Tony hurdle, and then there was this whole new blank space. After I got over my embarrassment and over that hurdle, I started to get ...”

“Go on, honey. It’s just girl-to-girl talk.”

Even in the darkness of the car, I blushed. “Well, when I think of certain boys …I get a buzz.”

“A buzz. Well ...that’s one way of describing it. I would have said they make me hot.”

“Mother!” I squealed, shocked, and immediately burst into giggles.

We laughed all the way home.

Chapter 6: Skiing

Almost every year, right after Christmas, we went to an old cabin that Donna Maxwell had gotten in her divorce. Donna and my mom would take turns driving the three-hour trip, alternately yelling at us boys to keep quiet, and stopping for coffee. This was really the only purely good time with the Maxwell boys; I loved to ski and was willing to put up with Jeff and Kevin to do it. Of course, there was the question whether we would do it this year, because of my change. But Donna had talked it out with Mom, and they agreed that, after my ‘acceptance’ on Christmas Eve, we’d go up as planned.

This presented me with a new problem—what to wear? I had some ski clothes that would work as a girl, but not enough. I didn’t want to get greedy though, so Mom and I decided to go to a fairly cheap sporting goods place. Last year I’d gotten a yellow and black parka that was worn by both men and women, so we didn’t have to worry about the major expense of a new parka. I bought a couple of sweaters; one was blue with a pink stripe down the sleeve, and the other was a raspberry color with embroidered wildflowers, and some turtlenecks. I bought one pair of girls’ stretch ski pants in a light green, then some pale pink powder pants that I could zip up over jeans. We also bought new gloves and a hat that matched the other gear.

The Maxwells pulled up at our house at just before seven and we piled in. I had to sit in the backseat with the boys, of course. I tossed in my shoulder bag that had my makeup, a light blue windbreaker folded up, and some reading stuff. It was going to be weird enough being crammed together for three hours, so Mom and I had agreed it was best that I not wear anything too obviously ‘girly’; there was no way I could look like a boy but the best we hoped for was to be ‘neutral’. I wore a long-sleeved dark gray shirt that was baggy enough that my small breasts weren’t really noticeable, and a pair of black jeans—although I wanted to wear a new pair with cute little bows behind the ankle, I didn’t want to push the ‘girly’ thing this weekend. I had a pair of black waterproof hiking boots as well. I wore almost no makeup; just some color on my cheeks and a clear lipgloss; I’d removed my nail color and just had a clear coat. My hair was pulled back with a headband, not unlike a lot of long-haired boys. In fact, my outside clothing wasn’t any different than what a boy would be wearing, but underneath it all I was wearing Calvin Klein sports panties and a regular bra; I was going to try a Calvin Klein sports bra when I skied but for now I wanted and needed all the ‘support’ I could get, emotionally as well as physically.

Right away, the boys were weird. Kevin kept starting conversations and then chuckling; Jeff just stared out the window, stone-faced. I wound up staring out the other window. I kept my knees together and my hands folded in my lap; I was using the time to practice being demure. Kevin reached over for something and bumped me; a little later he reached again.

“What do you want? I’ll get it for you,” I said, somewhat irritably.

“Oh, the, uh, the map.”

“Not a problem,” I said. “Here”. I took the map from the back of the passenger seat and handed it to Kevin, I noticed he still seemed down.

“Here, let me—” he started as he reached again for the map pocket, bumping me again. Then I suddenly realized what was going on—he was trying to feel my boobs! I had the same problem every other girl has—a young boy was trying to cop a feel! I was delighted, and miffed as well. I turned slightly away from him to look out the window, like Jeff.

“You are so weird,” Jeff said with disgust to his little brother. Or was it to me?

I realized that the plan that Mom and I had just wasn’t working. Maybe I was dressed too unisex, and the boys just weren’t sure what I was—was that why Kevin was trying to feel me up? I knew Donna had raised them both too well for them to grab a real girl—they’d never done it before, to my knowledge—and I’d thought that after the Christmas party they would have no doubt as to my new gender and treat me accordingly.

Then I figured out a way to change the dynamic in the backseat, since ‘neutral’ wasn’t working. I pulled out a Seventeen from my shoulder bag, and as I began to read I relaxed and my gestures became more feminine. That was actually easier than trying to be neutral. I kept my knees together, crossed an arm under my breasts, and turned the pages with a single moistened finger. I knew that Jeff was old enough to want to check out the girls in the pictures, but was too far across the seat to do so, and I knew Kevin would be embarrassed to be caught looking at a girl’s magazine. Sure enough, it did the trick; I glanced up from a page about cute new lingerie to see him staring at the picture. He looked up and saw me looking at him, blushed furiously and looked away, and didn’t bother me again.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, at least with me and the boys. We stopped two-thirds of the way there so the Moms could get some coffee. We’d stopped at the same restaurant each year. The boys had burgers and shakes like always, while I decided on a salad and ice tea. Jeff looked hard at me when I ordered, then focused his attention on his burger. They wolfed down their burgers and headed for the arcade section. This year, instead of going to the video games like usual, where I’d stand around and watch them play, I stayed with the Moms and drank my ice tea. They talked about the drive and how things had changed; my mind kind of zoned out but I mainly liked just sitting there with them, instead of getting in trouble like the boys ...

The manager came with the two boys shamefaced in front of him.

“We must turn your boys over to you—they have been bothering other guests.”

Donna turned with a sigh and addressed the manager. “And what have they been doing?”

“They have been putting pepper in the creamers,” he said with lofty disdain.

Donna said, “Well, it won’t happen again. Thank you for telling me.” She gestured to the table; the manager directed to boys to sit down and they sat there truculently.

She just stared at them a moment, shook her head, and got up to pay the bill.

“That’s another spot you boys ruined,” she said disgustedly. “Why can’t you be—”

She broke off her thought, shook her head, and paid the bill at the cash register. My mom gave me a kind of proud little smile; I guess she was glad I hadn’t been involved. Then I realized what Donna had been going to say; she was about to say, ‘why can’t you be quiet and sit at the table like Ann’. I guessed she’d realized that would have really set things on edge. But I secretly loved the fact that I was now a model of decorum!

We continued up to the cabin—nobody speaking—and parked and began bringing gear in while the Moms turned on lights and blew dust around. Then it came time to discuss sleeping arrangements.

There were two bedrooms to the cabin, plus a smaller room that had an extra bunk bed that we always used for storage. I don’t know if the Moms were using psychology, but they announced that I would be getting the small storage room, and we’d pile suitcases and things in the boys’ room

“No way!” shouted Jeff.

“Yeah, no way,” Kevin echoed. “We get to sleep in the bunk bed—store all the stuff in her room!” He pointed to me.

Donna smiled. “Well, if that’s what you want, although I really don’t think that’s fair to Ann, but—okay, you can have the bunk bed.”

Jeff looked strangely at Kevin and I realized that Jeff had only been protesting the suitcases being put in their regular room. Kevin had stuck them in the smaller room by pushing too hard. I realized his macho pride had pushed him into a situation not to his own benefit, and I was so thankful that I wouldn’t be driven by that crazy testosterone much longer. I also realized that although Kevin had said it with disdain, it was the first time he’d used the feminine pronoun with me. A small breakthrough; combined with brushing against my boob in the car, I hoped I was closer to my goal of getting the boys to think of me only as a girl.

It was also a good lesson in how easily Donna had manipulated them. I knew that if I were still a boy, thinking like a boy, I would have risen to the bait—she made the smaller room seem to be the gift to me, and no macho boys were going to let a mere girl have the better room. I had a lot to learn about being female, but I knew I was going to love learning it!

We unpacked, and pure logistics demanded that the suitcases be put in my room. I realized also that Donna had wanted me to have that room because the door locked, while the smaller room didn’t have a lock; and although it would be a nuisance when both boys were in their bedroom, fooling around, it would be a good safety factor so they wouldn’t try to sneak in to see ‘the new girl’. Again, I was amazed and grateful for Donna’s thoughtfulness.

We got into our ski clothes; I pulled on the flared stretch ski pants, white turtleneck and raspberry sweater we’d bought. We all put our boots on loosely and piled in the car; the skis were still on top. Getting to the slopes and getting parked seemed to take forever like it always did; then we were in line, and finally going up in the tram with a hundred other skiers. I had my sunglasses on and was refreshing my sunblock lipgloss while I turned to check out the view and noticed Jeff staring at me through his sunglasses. I smiled at him; he pretended to be looking out the window over my shoulder. ‘Hmmm’, I thought. Was he planning some nastiness?

We all piled out, clipped into our bindings, and got prepared to ski. Kevin was a little uphill from me; he swooshed down and sprayed snow on my skis with his stop.

“Come on, Ann,” he chuckled, “let’s see if you still know how to ski, or if you ski like a girl.” Then he jumped off and down the slope. He had been kind of snarky, but he’d called me Ann, and that was another small victory.

I looked around; Jeff was nowhere to be seen. I pushed off and did my best to ski well but also to—how should I put this correctly?—ski like a girl. That is, I kept my knees together, which actually helped my parallel turns, and stayed a bit more upright than I used to. In fact, I found that I was turning better and was having more fun than last year, when I had to ski with the two boys, and all they thought about was speed-speed-speed, and jumping big moguls. Now I did graceful, swooping turns down the slope with quite a bit of good speed, and more control. Every so often my upper arms would brush against my breasts and that felt good and reassuring, too.

At one point I caught an edge or something and down I went, tumbling a bit in the snow. As I was getting myself sorted out I saw Jeff whoosh past me without looking. ‘Asshole’, I thought. A girl was standing in some trees, adjusting her bindings, and she called out.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Just caught an edge or something.”

“Why didn’t he stop?”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend. The guy with the blue parka.”

I realized she meant Jeff. “Oh,” I laughed, “he’s not a boyfriend. Just a ... family friend.”

She chuckled. “Uh-huh.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. She wore light blue powder pants, unzipped and showing jeans underneath, and a steel-gray parka over a white turtleneck. She quickly zipped the pants and skied over to me just as I stood and was brushing snow from my butt.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah; I just haven’t fallen in a long time and I forgot how hard the snow can be!”

She laughed. “I know what you mean. I got nailed coming off a mogul yesterday. My name’s Shelly Davenport.”

Shelly was one of the blondes with absolutely straight hair, with perfectly level bangs at the eyebrows, that look Swedish no matter where they’re from. Clear skin and green eyes and there was something about her smile that just seemed like fun. Like someone I’d like to know.

“Ann Mason,” I said. I thrilled as always at being able to meet people as Ann, telling them my name and my true self. I know that people say their name every day, but if had only about six months so this was still new for me and there was a little part of me that was always afraid someone would shout, ‘No, you’re Anthony!’ and that would be the end of it. But Shelly saw me as a girl, and I loved it.

She just nodded at my name. “Cool. I’m from Sacramento.”

Ah. Not Sweden, then! I smiled. “San Francisco.”

“Oh, I love that city! I’d give anything to get out of Sacto and live there! Where are you staying?”

“With my mom and family friends at a cabin. That guy was one of the friends.”

“Yeah, well ... he seemed like more than a friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he was behind you the whole way, kind of ... stalking you. I saw you on an earlier run; you have a nice style. So that’s why I was watching you and then noticed him. I don’t know; it was actually kinda creepy. But if you say he’s a friend, I guess it’s okay.”

I didn’t know what to make of it. Lisa couldn’t have been right about Jeff crushing on me …could she? All I said was, “Yeah, sounds kinda creepy, huh?”

“I don’t know; maybe I should butt out. My mom always says I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but these days girls have got to watch out for each other, right? Oh, yeah; we’re at Harrah’s.” She named one of the many nearby hotels.

I was thrilled at being ‘one of the girls’ again. We chatted a little bit about the snow conditions and then we both pushed off and skied down. It was fun swooping down the slope with her. We were in the lift line together, still talking. So we informally became buddies, sharing the lifts and runs together. She had a little better technique than me, but I was more confident—and ‘stylish’, apparently—so we were matched pretty well. On the long chairlift rides back to the top, we chatted and I always tried to steer her questions about me back onto her; she didn’t seem to notice that I didn’t really give her much personal history.

Three runs after we met, we were riding the chair up together and she leaned over.

“That guy’s back.”

“What guy?”

“You know—that ‘family friend’ of yours? He is most definitely stalking you. Or us.”

“How can you tell?”

“He was behind you on the last run. You were in the lead so you never saw him. I pulled back a little bit and he was there. He was skiing right behind you and watching you. Now he’s two chairs back.”

“Why would Jeff do that?” I wondered aloud, fighting the urge to turn and look at him.

“Is that his name, Jeff? He’s kinda cute. But, duh—it’s obvious. He likes you, silly.”

“Jeff? No way. We’ve known each other since we were, like, two. And we fight more than anything else.”

She smiled knowingly at me. “Uh-huh. Okay, if that’s your story, you stick to it. Actually, he is kinda cute,” she said again, “but he’s obviously crushing on you.”

“I ... I don’t buy it,” I said, uncertainly.

We didn’t talk about it further. The shadows were lengthening and the slopes were icing up, so we both agreed the next run would be our last. As we finished, we stood in front of the lodge and removed our skis.

Shelly banged her skis together. “What do you guys do at night?”

“You mean in the cabin?”

She nodded.

“Well, in past years we’ve watched TV, played like Scrabble or Monopoly or Playstation or something. Of course, we’ve been coming here since I was little and I never really thought about it. I mean, we’re too young to go to any shows in town.”

“‘We’ ...?”

“Oh, me and my mom, and Jeff, his brother Kevin, and their mom.”

“How old is the brother?”

“Two years younger.”

“Oh, well. Okay, then …do you want to go to a party tonight?”

“Oh, I’d love to! That is, if Mom’ll let me. But I don’t have anything to wear; just ski clothes. But what kind of party?”

She laughed at my excitement. “Slow down, Cinderella! It’s no fancy ball; not even really a party. Just some of the kids staying at Harrah’s told me about a club a couple of blocks away; it’s really a juice bar that minors can go to and has a band and dancing and stuff. And everyone’s going to be in jeans and sweaters anyway. You know—” she affected a French accent, “—après ski.”

“Sounds cool! We’re only a mile from Harrah’s, up one of those side roads. God, I hope my mother lets me go.”

Shelly gave me her number at Harrah’s; I told her I’d call her with the news either way, after I talked to Mom. She reached over and hugged me and headed towards the parking lot. The hug felt great; just another reminder that I was a normal teenaged girl.

The Moms were waiting by the car. Kevin was already there, sitting in the back reading a comic book. I put my skis on top and checked if my Mom was in a good mood. She seemed okay, so I asked her about Shelly’s party. She looked concerned. I knew enough to stay silent. Finally she agreed. Then I felt, rather than heard, Jeff behind me.

“You going to a party?”

For some reason I wanted to downplay things. “Just getting together with a new friend I met and some of her friends. Not really a party, or anything,” I said, echoing Shelly.

“Yeah, I saw your friend.”

I wished he hadn’t said that, because Mom’s ears perked up.

“What did you think of her, Jeff?”

“She seemed okay,” he said offhandedly. “I saw the two of them on the slopes a couple of times.”

I don’t know why, but Shelly’s comments about Jeff’s ‘stalking’ us made me want to stir things up. I rose up on tiptoe, my hands behind my back. “Shelly thinks you’re kinda cute,” I said with little-girl syrup.

He changed color somehow; kind of green and kind of red. Hmm, I thought, interesting! Of course, he tried to brush it off.

“Yeah, well, whatever.”

But I knew something had hit home. Unfortunately, Mom chose that moment to ask Jeff if he wanted to go to the party or juice bar, to kind of watch out for me.

“After all, Jeff, you can protect her if there’s any trouble. A girl shouldn’t really go anywhere unescorted.”

I think her wording creeped him out a little. “Oh Mom, I’ll be okay,” I said, hoping to get Jeff to stay away. “It sounds like it’s just going to be a bunch of girls there.”

Donna chimed in. “Well, then I’m sure he’ll go. Jeff likes girls, don’t you, honey?”

It was obviously a running thing between them. He just shrugged and his face ‘shut down’. I knew enough male stuff to know he was embarrassed and wanted the discussion to end. To tell the truth, so did I. I wanted to enjoy the night being out with Shelly, just a couple of girls on the town, and I didn’t want Jeff around. Thinking about him ‘stalking’ had me a little worried; I still wasn’t sure how he was handling my transition. He still might be entertaining the notion of beating me to death. However, a night out with Shelly and other girls—even with Jeff tagging along somewhere—was preferable to another night of Scrabble.

End of Part 2

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