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Peter was putting the salad on the table as his mother pulled the meatloaf out of the oven. Without the constant studying, the boy was beside himself as to what to do that evening. He would've been helping his mother with dinner anyway, but he was still at a loss as to what to do after dinner. He was never one for video games, even though he had a Playstation 3 and an assortment of games to go with it. Some were sports games that he tried to get into but quickly got disinterested, others were war games that were either too difficult to play or far to violent to play, and the rest seemed to be fighting games and though he didn't get beat up in real life, he didn't want to get beat up in make-believe just to waste time.
The only game he did enjoy thoroughly was called Dance Dance Revolution, but that was only fun when Veronica was around and they could laugh at one another and themselves.

He figured maybe he would watch television with his parents. They always had the television tuned to one of the learning channels and since he was no longer being taught anything at school he figured maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to learn some things outside of school.

Peter sat down in his chair at the dinner table. His dad soon joined him as his mother put the meatloaf on a ceramic coaster that protected the wooden table from being burnt. After pouring everyone a tall glass of lemonade she sat down with the rest of the family.

“Be careful,” she said as she cut a big slab of beef for her husband. “It's hot.”

Mr. Connors smiled. “That's how I like it, just like my women.”

“Woman,” Mrs. Connors suggested.

Peter watched his parents and marveled at how well they had gotten along, he had heard some horror stories from kids at school about the fighting that went on in their homes, but he couldn't imagine that. “You like your women meaty, dad?” he asked innocently.

Mrs. Connors shot her son a look. “I think not.”

Mr. Connors laughed heartedly. “No, I like them hot. Just like your mother.”

Mrs. Connors leaned over and gave her husband a kiss on the cheek. “Smart man.”

“Oh, I knew that,” Peter replied as his cheeks turned rosy.

“So, are you ready for the test tomorrow,” Mr. Connors asked in order to change the subject and save his son from any further embarrassment.

“I don't know,” Peter said as he picked at his meatloaf, trying to see if his mother put any green pepper in there. She was known to do such dastardly things when he wasn't paying attention. “I didn't do any studying today.”

“I know. Your mother and I discussed it last night and thought that maybe you were going to burn yourself out. You got to trust us on this one, sometimes there is such a thing as too much studying.”

“I guess I'll have to do my best and hope I get lucky,” Peter said as he tasted a small bite of meatloaf.

“Tell him,” Mrs. Connors said pointedly.

Peter looked at his mother and pleaded silently for her not to bring up a topic he wanted to avoid.

“You know we don't keep secrets in this family,” his mother pressed.

“Tell me what?” Mr. Connors took a fork full of mashed potatoes. “Did you get in trouble at school today,” he said as he pointed the laden utensil at his son.

“No,” Peter said with an annoyed sigh. Sometimes the teenaged brat came out in him.

“Okay, so tell me what it is?”

“Veronica gave me a good luck charm to help me during the test,” Peter figured it was best to go a round about way to the truth.

“Hmm,” Mr. Connors didn't see what the reluctance was all about. “It isn't a cheat sheet or a calculator, is it?”

Peter shook his head. “No.”

“Now I'm curious. What is so controversial about a good luck charm?”

“She gave me something to wear?”

“What, like a necklace,” Mr. Connors didn't like to feel as if he was interrogating his son, but could sense that something was up that made the boy not want to tell him the whole truth.

“Not exactly.” Peter squirmed in his seat.

Mrs. Connors was getting a little annoyed at her son's stalling. “If you are honestly going to consider it, you need to tell your dad and get his input in it as well. Now out with it.”

Peter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She gave me clothes to wear,” he finally admitted.

Mr. Connors didn't look amused, but he didn't seem too upset either and that confused his son who was usually able to read his father. “What kind of clothes?”

“A red skirt and a white blouse and some other stuff.”

Mr Connors raised his glass of lemonade, but lowered it again before taking a sip as his son's words settled in. “So, we're at this again.”

Peter remembered the tales of him and his friend dressing alike when they were younger, but honestly couldn't recall the events on his own. If it hadn't been for some photographic evidence he would've thought that his parents were teasing him. “Veronica said that they were good luck and helped her pass all of her math test.”

“I see,” Mr. Connors said evenly, not letting out any emotion, whether in favor or against. “Are you sure the luck is going to work for you as well?”

Peter swallowed another piece of meatloaf. “I don't know. It might.”

“It might not,” Mr. Connors replied, trying to play devil's advocate.

“No. It might not. I tried to see if I have any lucky clothing but I couldn't. I went through all my drawers and closets, but I didn't see anything lucky.”

“I got my lucky Giants Jersey you can wear,” Mr. Connors offered.

Peter smirked. “The one with all the holes and the barbecue sauce stains.”

“Yep, Mr. Lucky himself.”

Peter thought about it for a moment. “No offense dad, but I don't think that jersey is too lucky for me and it smells like your friends cigar smoke.”

Mr. Connors shrugged. “I made the offer. So Mom says you are considering wearing a skirt to school, that means you haven't decided yet.”

“Not yet. I probably won't do it though.”

“Might be for the best, son,” Mr. Connors added the last word to remind his son about which side of the gender spectrum he fell upon.

“But I might need all the luck I could get,” Peter added as an afterthought, as he was still weighing his decision in his mind.

Mr. Connors could see that this was going to be something his son contemplated throughout the entire night. “You know that your mother and I have placed no limits on how you express yourself, we're not that kind of people. I won't forbid you from doing anything that you want to as long as it won't get you hurt or in serious trouble.”

Peter frowned. Part of him had hoped that his dad would flatly say no and take the decision completely out of his hand. He knew that Veronica was expecting him to take her up on the offer, it would've been easier if he could have just told her his dad wouldn't let him. “I know,” he said in a ho-hum sort of way.

“But consider all the factors before you make a decision. Think about how the other students will react if they see you show up to school wearing girls clothes. Ask yourself if you will be able to live with that reaction. Think about how it will make you feel as well. Will it be a distraction when you take the test and what if it isn't lucky at all.”

Peter picked at his peas. “Sounds like you're against it.”

“I'm not for or against it. I just want you to think things through. I'll support you with whatever decision that you make, but I want you to be absolutely sure that it is a decision that you can live with. When you were little and you and Veronica dressed in the same outfits it was a different. You were younger then and your social circles pretty much ended at us and the Appletons next door.”

“I'm probably not going to do it,” Peter admitted.

Mrs. Connors patted her son on the arm. “It's your choice.”

“I know, mom.” The boy said as he finished drinking his lemonade. “I just really want to pass this test and I was thinking that if anything could help I should use it. But I don't know if Veronica's lucky outfit will work for me and I might get in trouble at school.”

“I'm sure you'll do fine,” Mrs. Connors assured.

“Now that that's over with, how about we talk about my day,” Mr. Connors said with a grin, making it known to all that he wanted to get off the subject of his son wearing a skirt.

The rest of the meal went off without controversy and after Peter helped clear the table he retired to his room so his parents could have some alone time together.

“You handled that well tonight,” Mrs. Connors said as she sat on the arm of her husband's easy chair.

“You mean the dress thing?” He replied as he put his arm around his wife.

“You know that is exactly what I meant.” Mrs. Connors made herself comfortable as she leaned into her husband.

“He'll do what's right. Besides, we always suspected this little quirk would rear its head once again sooner or later.”

Mrs. Connors sighed. “That we did, but we didn't think it would be anything public.”

“Are you sure he hasn't been sneaking in and trying on your underwear?”

His wife rolled her eyes. “He's never done that and you know it.”

The room filled with laughter. “Probably because they wouldn't fit.”

“There was a chance he wouldn't go back to doing this kind of stuff and we don't know if it is anything he is honestly considering. He is just really worried about the math test.”

“I know,” Mr Connors conceded. “But the idea is now in his head, he might remember all the good times he use to have and want to see if he could recapture some of that.”

“Maybe sometime during the summer, especially if he is around his little friend.”

“You know my take on all of this.”

“You might be one of the few fathers who wouldn't flip out when told his son was considering wearing a dress.”

“What can I do? I love him and I'm not going to do anything to make him miserable. He's always had that softer side, whether Veronica is around or not, if we try to fight him on it, we might not like the results.”

Peter was sitting on the edge of his bed. He couldn't hear what his parents were saying, but assumed that the contents of the brown paper bag that he was staring at might be the subject of their conversation. The bag was sitting in the corner of the room. A plain brown paper bag with two handles that sat open but didn't reveal any of the contents.

“Dad is probably right about how other people would react. The guys in class might not understand that the clothes are lucky and I need to wear them in order to pass the test and not take summer school. Maybe they aren't even lucky at all.”

Peter rose from the bed, took a few steps, and stood over the bag. He looked down and could see the red denim material from the skirt. “It might not even be lucky at all,” he said as he eyed the clothing closely, as if trying to discern if they had any magic to them.

He walked away. The more he stared at the bag, the more he felt the urge to take a closer look at what his friend had to offer. He feared that the closer look would lead to a further desire to try the clothes on.
If that desire grew any further he might cave in and wear them to school whether they were lucky or not. He never had such a desire before to wear one of Veronica's outfits out in public, but he also never had the opportunity to do so either.

Peter returned to the bag. He groaned. This decision should be easy. He was a boy, wasn't he, and boys didn't wear red miniskirts. He reached down and felt the course material. It felt like any other pair of jeans that he owned, they may have been softer but part of him figured he was imagining that part.

“Boys do wear denim,” Peter said out loud and then turned around quickly to see who spoke those words before realizing that it was he himself who uttered such blasphemy.

He quickly removed his hand from the bag and walked clear to the other side of the room. Was he trying to convince himself to not wear the dress or to go ahead with Veronica's suggestion? At the moment he was unsure.

“This is crazy,” Peter said as he walked back to the bag and picked it up. His idea was to toss it into the hall or put it in the bathroom where it wouldn't taunt him any longer. He took two steps towards the door and then paused.

“I do want to go to Hawaii though,” he said and then turned towards his bed.

Peter placed the bag on the bed and took out the skirt. He unfolded it and held it against his body, roughly where it would sit if he was wearing it. With his blue jeans on, it looked kind of strange and he made a face at the garment.

“It looks nice on Veronica, but I bet it would look weird on me,” he said as he folded the skirt and placed it on the chair beside the door.

He was half tempted to try it on, but didn't want to wear out any luck it might have if he did decided to go through with wearing it to school the next day.

“Nope, no way. Not going to happen.” Peter said as he put the rest of the clothes on the chair atop of the skirt.

Peter paced back to his bed and plopped himself down. He stared at the clothes and brooded.

“You shouldn't even be thinking about doing something like this,” he scolded himself, rose from the bed firmly, and stormed out of the room. He composed himself before he reached his parents and joined them in the living room for an evening of TV watching.

“You owe me five bucks,” his dad told his mother and then smiled at his son.

Peter turned around and looked at his father. “Why does mom owe you five dollars?”

Mr. Connors laughed. “Oh, nothing.”

Mrs. Connors leaned back and whispered into her husbands ears, “but I bet you he really thought long and hard about putting it on and coming out here though.”

Both of his parents laughed together, causing Peter to pout. He might not have been wearing the clothes of a girl, but he certainly was wearing the face.

“We're just teasing with you,” Mr. Connors said and then patted the free arm of his easy chair.

Peter smiled. “I knew that,” he said as he sat next to his dad and snuggled.

At around nine pm, Peter decided that he was going to turn in for bed even though it was a full hour before his bedtime. He didn't want to risk being groggy for such a big test. He went back to his room, changed into a long t-shirt and slid into bed. Though it was dark, he could still make the outline of his friend's clothes. His eyes began to flutter and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Peter didn't normally have a preference to what he dreamed at night and assumed he didn't have any control of what movie his mind played for him as he was out like a light. He figured with all the thought he put into deciding whether or not he would wear the outfit Veronica gave him to school the next day he was half suspecting that he would dream that he was a girl.

He never told his parents of those dreams. They always seemed so silly and bizarre anyway and mostly revolved around schemes with Veronica. Every time he had such a dream, he always seemed to enjoy them but would for some reason feel guilty about having them afterward.

Tonight he would've paid a c-note to have one of those dreams.

Peter was in school. It was summer and it was blisteringly hot. He looked out the window of the classroom, a bunch of boys and girls were playing in a big grassy field on an absolutely gorgeous day. Veronica hula danced by and the boy frowned.

Peter looked down, his desk was bolted firmly to the floor and his leg was shackled to the desk. He looked back up to see the chalkboard. It was filled with a million math problems that had symbols that he had never seen before. A big stack of empty paper sat on the side of his desk as he held a pencil in his hand.

“Five minutes left to finish the test questions on the board,” A fat, disgustingly grotesque teacher said from the front of the room. The teacher smiled to reveal a mouth of black, corroded teeth. “If you don't pass, you'll have to spend the night.”

Peter went to solve the first question, but just before he even had a chance to put a mark on the paper, the pager blew away. He had five minutes to answer all those questions that he didn't understand and now he didn't have a thing to write on.

The teacher stood in front of his desk and laughed maniacally.

Peter woke up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked over at his clock, it was seven AM, time for him to get up anyway. He glanced over towards the door, looked at the chair and in the low light of the morning he could make out the clothes still folded on the chair. Part of him had figured that his mom might have come in the middle of the night and pack everything up so he could return them in the morning.

“Still there,” he said with a mixture of dread and relief.

The small boy kicked the covers off of his body. He was still wearing a long shirt like he always did to bed. He pursed his lips as he thought about how what he was wearing was very similar to what Veronica wore to sleep a few houses away.

Peter sighed. He still hadn't decided if he was going to take his friend up on her offer. What if she was right, what if they were lucky. What if they were just even a little lucky and he missed going to Hawaii because of one missed point on the test because he didn't take a chance?

What if he took the chance and failed anyway? Peter pouted. Then, not only would he not be going to Hawaii, but he would also give every boy in school ammunition to torment him the rest of his life. That is, if they didn't beat him to death.

Peter rubbed the crust from his eyes. He wasn't even in school taking the math test and he already was struggling with a question.

“Would it be that bad?” Peter asked allowed. He then paused. He didn't think it would be bad at all. He always had been slightly curious in how Veronica might feel in her clothes. The wearing the clothes wouldn't or shouldn't be bad at all. It was all the other stuff that surrounded it, namely how would the rest of the world respond knowing that he, a boy, was wearing girl clothing. Now that reaction, he mused silently, might be the worst thing in the world.

There was still a chance that his mother would take the decision out of his hands. Though his parents had stated that it was his choice and they would stand by him, part of him wondered if they just naturally assumed that he wouldn't go through with such a ridiculous proposal. Of course, they said that when he was little he dressed up in Veronica's clothing, but he was a baby then and not even in school yet. What boy in his right mind would go out in public in a skirt? Maybe that's why his parents were laughing the evening prior, maybe they were picturing their son in a dress and found it hilarious. He might not have been the roughest, toughest of boys, maybe even the least rough and the least tough, but still.

But still. But still there was the math test. There was the fact the Veronica said that the outfit was lucky and helped her pass every math test she took while wearing it. Veronica was his friend and she wouldn't lie about something like that. After all, she wanted him to go to Hawaii just as much as he did.

Peter got out of bed. He walked over to the mound of clothes. They were neatly folded, the skirt sitting directly on top of the pile. There was another 'but still' in there somewhere. There was something inside of him that was hidden, even from himself. It was a small voice, almost indistinguishable from the din that went on inside his head, but unmistakably there.

But still, when you took away the luck, when you took away the response of the people in the world, when the math test wasn't taken into account and Hawaii wasn't being swayed in the balance, there was a question that begged to be answered. Was wearing a skirt something he would want to do anyway?

Peter couldn't come up with an answer quickly, but he somehow figured that might have been the most important question that he asked. The other factor in all this was that he didn't have too much time left to decide.

His mother gently opened the door, Peter scampered back to his bed before his mom could find him hovering over the pile of clothes.

“I thought I heard you up,” Mrs. Connors said with a sly smile, figuring that her son was up to something even though she didn't know quite what it was. Children are never as sneaky as they think they are.

“Good morning, Mom,” Peter said while sitting on his bed with his legs tucked under him.

“And good morning to you,” Mrs. Connors said cheerfully as she surveyed the room. “Did you get enough rest?”

“Yep,” Peter said as he waited for his mom to go towards the dresser and pick out his clothes for the day, “slept the whole night through.”

Mrs. Connors made no movement towards the dresser or the closet, just stood in the open doorway just a few steps actually inside of the room. “That's good. Ready for this math test of ours?”

“I think so.”

“Good. You worked hard. No matter how you do, your dad and I are proud of you.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks.”

There were a few silent moments as each watched each other and wondered what the other was going to do. Peter didn't make an attempt to get out of bed and Mrs. Connors didn't go to set out clothing for her son to wear to school that day.

Peter was the first to broach the subject that he figured they both were thinking about. “Aren't you going to arrange my outfit for the day.”

Mrs. Connors looked at the chair where the outfit Veronica gave him sat, then looked at her son, and then looked back at the chair. “I thought you made a decision about that already.”

“I did?” Peter stared directly into his mother's eyes, trying to get a read on things but finding himself unable to.

“Didn't you?”

Peter made his lips go thin and thought real hard. There was no more time to waver between whether or not he was going to take his friend up on her off. He had to choose, and he had to choose right then. “I did,” he said in the affirmative.

“I thought so. I'll leave you to get ready, lucky you have given yourself more time than usual.”

Peter watched as his mom closed the door behind her as she left. Just like that, he had made his decision and figured he might as well get comfortable with it. He got out of bed, this time knowing he wasn't going to return until it was bedtime that night.

The boy walked over to the stack of clothes on the chair and picked them up. Somehow he knew that between all his early morning debating that somehow, on a subconscious level, he had made his decision as soon as he took the clothes out of the bag and put them on the chair where his mom always placed his clothes for the day.

Peter decided to lay each garment separately on the bed so he could determine what order to put the clothes on. First he put the red skirt on the far left side, followed by the thin white blouse with the ruffled sleeves. The knee high socks followed and he noticed that they had little red bows that he found cute. The last item was a pair of panties that for a moment he felt slightly embarrassed to even be holding in his hand.

The child walked away from the bed and walked to the full length mirror that was on his closet door.

“Here goes nothing,” Peter said, but though the words coming out of his mouth sounded foreboding, there was a look of eager anticipation and expectant joy on his face. It took him off guard but he didn't have a lot of time to ponder it all.

Peter took of his night shirt and stared at himself in the mirror. He was still a little kid, no matter how much he might try to protest to the contrary. Plenty of boys in school had hit puberty, but he, as his mother and dad had suggested, was a late bloomer. His arms and legs were stringy and he didn't have much in the way of muscle development. He was amazingly slender and long, even more so than Veronica, who people had said had a body like a ballerina.

Though he didn't often make it a practice to do so very often, Peter took a look at the part of his body that made him different from his friend. It just sat there, uselessly. A small mushroom headed piece of flesh that made him a male, for better or for worst.

“Yep, still a little boy,” Peter said to his reflection.

He went to go back to the clothes and then paused as the words echoed in his mind. “Still a little boy,” he mused. Did he say that as opposed to being a man, like many of the teenaged males in his school was becoming, or did he say that as opposed to being a girl and being denied the opportunity to wear such an outfit as he was about to wear today without an excuse.

He really didn't have the time, nor the desire to figure that out right then and there. He resumed the short trip to his bed and decided he better start getting dressed before he changed his mind again only to change it back later on and continue on this merry-go-round.

Peter gently picked up the pair of panties. The cotton bikini style briefs felt soft to the touch. He held them up before his eyes to appreciate how different they were from his own pairs of underwear. They were certainly cut a different way, and lacked the little trap door that didn't seem to serve much of a purpose. He smiled at them, they had little addition math problems all around them in a fancy type font.

“Lucky math panties,” Peter said with a chuckle. “Veronica thinks of everything.”

The boy stepped into the leg holes of the pair of panties and slid them up his body. They were snug, but seemed to fit perfectly. Even though they hugged his crotch tighter than his normal pair of underwear, it felt more secure and he found himself enjoying the feeling of knowing nothing would be flopping around down there and be needing adjusting during the day.

Peter returned to the mirror. It was as he expected, his middle was completely flattened out and he could barely discern the slight lump that once proclaimed his masculinity. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he would assume that it went on vacation early without him and nothing was there at all.

He knew he couldn't stand admiring himself in the mirror and returned to the clothes to finish getting dressed. He put on the white blouse next. The material was very light and cool to the touch, almost like satin. The ruffled sleeves ended right in line with his armpit and let his milky white arms to brave the elements for themselves. He buttoned up the blouse, and made sure that it fell into place correctly. It was a little shorter than the shirts he normally wore and the lower part of his stomach, just below his navel was left uncovered.

Next he slid the red denim skirt up his legs and brought the waist up to just above his hip. The bottom was on the opposite side than what he was use to, but he had no problem in fastening it. He looked down and could see that he was showing a lot of leg. The skirt was appropriate for a girl to wear to school, but just barely. He had almost forgotten that though he and Veronica were the same height, that he had the longer legs.

Peter took a few tentative steps around the room and was awed at how natural it felt to be wearing a blouse and a miniskirt. He didn't feel as if he were trapped in his own clothing for the first time in quite a while. He thought about doing a little pirouette, but stopped just short of doing so. Besides, time was running short.

Peter sat down on the bed and rolled the stretchy cool white material of the knee high tights up his legs. He must have watched Veronica do this a thousand times because it was like second nature to him to put them on correctly. The tights came to just below his kneecap and each was accented with a little red bow that went perfectly with both the dress and the blouse.

“Mom,” Peter called out loud as he looked around for a pair of sneakers he could wear with the outfit, it seemed almost sacrilege to wear his clunky Nikes while wearing what he was in.

Mrs. Connors had never strayed to just outside the child's bedroom and quickly swung the door open. “Oh my God,” she said as her mouth dropped open.

Peter stood in the center of his room, facing the door. He put his hands out to his side and gave an apologetic shrug. “That bad, huh?” He said as he scrunched up his face in disgust.

Mrs. Connors had to shake her head as she gathered her wits about her. “N-n-n-no,” she stammered as her ability of speech came back to her. “Quite the contrary, you're absolutely stunning.”

Peter blushed. “Quit teasing mom,” he said in a whine that would rival any other little girl.

“I'm not teasing.” Mrs. Connors walked around her son to get a complete view of a transformation that was always right before her eyes. She took the child by the shoulders and guided him to the full length mirror. “Have a look for yourself.”

Peter stared at a reflection that was not his own, or, at least, not one that he was use to. He was dumbfounded. People always said how much alike he and Veronica looked to each other, but he always assumed they meant that they were the same height and had the same hair color. He never realized that when they were told they could pass for twins, how truthful people were actually being.

Peter waved at the reflection, half expecting the image not to do the exact same thing as he was. “That's, that's, that's me,” he said.

Mrs. Connors chuckled. “That it is,” she said lightly. “Good looks run in the family.”

“I'd say,” Peter said, still in shock.

“I think we might want to do something a little different with your hair today,” Mrs. Connors suggested, having the feeling it was something her son would want even though he didn't know it.

Peter smiled. He didn't know he was going to enjoy the experience, he just assumed this was just a ploy to pass a math test. It was much, much more. “Maybe we can have some of the hairs come across my face instead of combing it straight back.”

“You, my dear boy, have impeccable taste,” Mrs. Connors praised.

“You mean girl,” Peter said sheepishly as he stared at his reflection.

That pleased Mrs. Connors in a way that she could not express. “If you say so, my girl.”

Peter walked lightly to his bed and sat down. Almost naturally he pinched his knees together just so and rested his hands in his lap atop the skirt. His mother sat behind him and began to comb out his hair. It was long, but not too long, almost to the boy's shoulders, so her options were limited. She combed the hair out to the side, and made an off center part. She allowed a few strands of hair to drape over his forehead and frame his delicate face. She wished that she had some barrettes to put in his hair, but that was something she hadn't thought of beforehand. She did, however, have hairspray and used a light amount just because the hair wasn't trained to be worn this way.

When Peter felt that his mother was done, he looked back at her. “How do I look?” he asked eagerly.

“Like an absolute doll,” his mother praised.

Peter smiled at the compliment. “Let's hope nobody notices,” he said with slight concern in his voice.

Mrs. Connors had to hold her tongue from saying 'fat chance.' “You'll do fine.”

Peter stood up and walked back to the mirror. He could feel his mother's eyes follow his every step.

“This is really me,” he spoke the words out loud as his hand touched the mirror.

Mrs. Connors was left to wonder if her son was asking a question of disbelief or making a proclamation.

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Author's note: I really was expecting to post this on Monday. In fact, I am surprised I have written so much in two days. The story is just begging me to write it, which is really annoying when it walks in on you when you're sitting on the potty trying to do some thinking. I kind of enjoy this story, I don't exactly know why. It seems fun. Does it seem like fun to you? It seems my characters are growing up to. When I first started writing, my characters were under the age of 10 or there abouts. Now they are teenagers. Of course, with anything I write, there is the psychological element and also the societal responses are coming. It seems Peter is pleased with how he looks in the safety of his own home, but what about his classmates. Oh, I have to do something about school. And what about dad? He seems decent enough, but when have I ever written about descent parents, I never had that modeled for me. I still have this graded as an F though (look at the title graphic) hopefully readers will grade me on a curve.

BTW: If you find my work enjoyable, or worthwhile, or would otherwise like to reward my efforts. I would like to remind people that God Bless the Child is available at Amazon for Kindle HERE and is also available in real life book form at Create Space Here Even if you don't buy a copy, I wouldn't mind a review if you had read the work that is still posted here at Big Closet.

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