A high school garage band isn't doing very well at getting opportunities to perform. Some of the band members think they'd go further if they could replace the female vocalist who moved away and left the band. The problem is where to find such a singer. Then one of them decides to see if he can find a girl to recruit at Bikini Beach...

As usual, I would like to thank my editors for their more-than-generous help. There were elements of this that didn't want to come together, but with creative suggestions, it all hopefully works.

The band names - Radically Chick and Living With Attitudes - came from the blog I wrote asking for suggestions. Some may not like that the band name doesn't quite apply to a band with one female and the rest male, but Barenaked Ladies is hardly applicable to an all-male band, so pthhh. Author's discretion.

**********

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Brandon Williams let the last chord ring echo through the garage, a satisfied smile on his face. The song had gone very well. He played guitar with his friends in a group, 'Living with Attitudes', a typical high-school wanna-be band. Compared to the other few bands in the city, they weren't bad, and it helped that Brandon and Jason had a gift for lyrics, while the keyboard player, Don Ellison, was exceptionally gifted musically, and wrote much of their music. Of course, they played a lot of music from other groups — it was how they'd gotten their one and only gig at a wedding reception. "I think we've got that song nailed," Brandon said as he let his hand drop from his guitar.

Jason Green, the bass guitarist, nodded. "Yeah. I like the tweaks Don did to the keyboard solo." He looked at and stroked his guitar as if it were a treasure. "I like the sound." Jason towered over the other band members by at least five inches; he looked like he should be playing basketball instead of the bass guitar, but he hated organized sports and the rules and workouts that went with them.

Don shook his head in disagreement. "It's not the same sound, though. Not since Tonya left." He was referring to their rhythm guitarist and singer, a girl who had shared lead vocals with Jason and Brandon practically from the time they formed the band. Her mother's job had transferred, so she had to move. Her missing vocals were keenly felt by the group.

Vinny Rascone, the last member of the group and the drummer, sighed. "It doesn't matter how good it sounds," he said glumly. "Have you heard from the manager at Shell Game?" His voice conveyed that he wasn't very hopeful of the answer.

Brandon closed his eyes momentarily. He'd hoped that he wouldn't have to say anything until after they were done practicing.

Don noticed. "You _have_ heard."

Brandon nodded glumly. "He said, essentially, don't call us; we'll call you."

Vinny smacked one of the cymbals with his drumsticks in frustration. "It's always the same damned thing, isn't it? We get a demo to someone, and they politely tell us to fuck off!" His cursing was somewhat characteristic; the guys attributed his emotions to his Italian ancestry. After dozens of rejections, Vinny had to vent.

"The problem, guys," Jason said, suddenly sounding contemplative, "is that we're missing Tonya's vocals. We _need_ a girl to get our sound back."

"What ... are you saying? One of us should be replaced by a chick?" Brandon scoffed.

Jason shook his head. "No. But what if we could add a new female vocalist?"

"That might make one of us redundant," Brandon glared at Jason. "We have a good sound right now. Why should we add someone — that can push _me_ out later?"

"Who says a girl would push you out?" Don tried to reassure Brandon. "Your ...."

"Because a female vocalist would make my voice unnecessary," Brandon growled, "with better range, too. And if she played guitar, I'd be just an extra!" He frowned. "Most bands I know of, a female singer ends up in the spotlight, and everyone else fades into the background!"

"Tonya didn't hog the spotlight," Vinny countered. "She didn't _want_ too much spotlight!"

"But if you guys replace me with a female lead, I bet you'll get pushed aside, just like usually happens." Brandon's voice was rising with his emotions.

"Whoa," Jason held up his hands to signal that everyone should calm down. "No one's talking about replacing anyone here! I’m just talking about replacing Tonya. We're a team, remember? And no-one is going to hog the spotlight!" He sounded very certain.

"But for how long?" Vinny muttered, glancing around his friend's faces. "Who here would put friendship over something really juicy, like a recording contract?"

"Not gonna happen," Brandon said with a frown. "We all agreed." He turned toward Jason. "So what's up with suggesting a girl?"

"Think about it," Jason said. He was a little more tentative with his word. The vehemence of his friends' reactions had unnerved him. "We don't have the same sound we did with Tonya. Face it — none of us can do the sultry, sexy numbers like Tonya could. And the harmony she brought to some songs? I think we just sound silly when we try, to be honest. I mean, we're good, but I think we could be better if we could get a female voice again."

Brandon wasn't convinced. "Maybe," he said slowly.

"Let's say we agree on this," Don ventured. "Where are we going to find a girl to join the band?"

"Yeah," Vinny agreed. "We tried at school when we started the band, remember? It was hard enough to get Tonya to play."

Jason sighed. "There are more schools than Central. We could try at Eastside, Westside, and St. Gregory."

"And maybe at college, too," Don added. "There might be a freshman or sophomore music major who'd love to be in a band."

Brandon shook his head at the last suggestion. "Like some college girl is going to want to hang out in a band with a bunch of high-school seniors."

"You got a better idea?" Jason snapped at Brandon.

"I guess not," Brandon admitted sheepishly. Then he frowned. "Unless we could ...." He thought for a second or two. "Nah. Wouldn't work."

"What?"

"That water park. It's mostly women, right? The other day, when I was driving my little sister to Lynnwood Mall, we went past it, and there were a _lot_ of women going in. A lot of them looked like older teenagers — high school and college ages."

"Okay, so you go check out the park this weekend, and we'll try to scope out the high schools after school Friday," Don suggested. He sounded skeptical that they'd find a vocalist at a water park, but he always played along with Brandon's hunches. They had a knack for being right.

"Just don't wear your school colors around the other schools!" Vinny laughed. "We want to add a member, not replace one!" The rivalries among the high schools were well known — and sometimes led to fights.

**********

Brandon started to feel nervous as he stood in the line for the ticket booth. There were a lot of girls in line, and even more going in without stopping. He reasoned that they had season tickets or something. In a few seconds, he counted over fifty girls who might fit the bill — if he could talk to them, and if they could sing. As he pondered trying to scout talent in a water park, he realized that his suggestion had been quite silly. Not only was he the least outgoing and most average of the guys when he wasn't on stage, but how on earth was he going to find and talk to even half of the girls he'd spotted? Maybe, he thought, the management would let him post a notice on their bulletin board — if they had one.

Brandon sighed heavily. He didn't feel particularly suited to talk to girls, especially about joining the band. He was average height and build, and he wore his medium-length brown hair a little long and unkempt, in keeping with his rebellious style. It wasn't a look that was overly-endearing to the opposite sex. As guys in school went, he was far from the most popular. He had his friends, but it was a small circle of non-jocks and the guys in the band. Jason, who the girls considered attractive because he was six-two and athletically built, would have attracted more attention. Don would have had better luck, too, Brandon thought. While he was about Brandon's height and weight, his sandy-blonde hair and glasses framed what some girls called the perfect cute face. Even Vinny, with his mysterious Latin looks, would have been better suited. Brandon signed. What on earth was he doing here? All three of the other guys were more outgoing with girls.

Before he knew it, while he was still scoping out possible girls to talk to, he heard a pleasant voice calling him. "Can I help you?"

Brandon spun, startled, and looked in the ticket booth. The young lady in the booth wore a pink T-shirt with "Bikini Beach" embroidered on it, and a name-tag that said Marta. "Uh, yeah," he answered quickly. "I'd like to buy a ticket."

The girl smiled pleasantly. "This is a members-only park, and we don't sell tickets, but we do have some guest passes we can sell. You're in luck. We have a few passes left." She quoted a price to Brandon.

"That's kind of steep, isn't it?" he said skeptically. "I mean, it's already late Friday afternoon, so it's not like I'm going to have a full day."

The girl nodded at his logic. "You're right. Let me call the office and see if I can give you a discount." She picked up a phone and punched a couple of buttons. After briefly explaining the situation, she attentively listened. As she listened, her smile broadened, and she hung up the phone. "Anya said to sell you a two-day pass for ...." She wrote a number on a paper.

Staring at the quoted price, Brandon couldn't believe his luck. Whoever this Anya was had just offered him a discount of almost sixty percent! And with the two-day pass, he could come back Saturday, and he'd have more of a chance to talk to girls, greatly improving his chances to find a vocalist.

Brandon paid, and then swiped his pass as directed, before walking into the men's locker room. He was surprised at how small it was, but on second thought, he realized that he hadn't seen another man or boy enter the park. With a name like Bikini Beach, it should have attracted men like flies to honey, with its implied promise of scantily-clad young ladies. He shrugged off the oddity, changed into his swim trunks, and stepped into the shower, as the girl in the booth had directed.

Moments later, a scream erupted from Brandon as he stared at the reflection in the door mirror and at his altered body. Somehow, impossibly, he'd been changed into a girl. Not just any girl, either, but a reasonably cute girl. She — he — was a bit taller than average, and had the same dark hair as Brandon, but not quite shoulder-length, and layered in a sexy, sassy way. Her body was definitely above average; she certainly had nicely-shaped, ample breasts, which were uncovered, a flat tummy, and curvy, but not exaggeratedly-so, hips.

A knock sounded on the door, causing Brandon to look up from his stunned self-examination. He was a girl — a semi-nude girl — standing in the men's locker room at a water park!

When the door opened, a young lady walked in. She looked to be about twenty-two, and despite her smile, she had an air about her of being in charge. Before Brandon could speak, she handed him a bikini top that she'd seemingly produced from nowhere. "Please put this on," she directed Brandon. She saw the confused look. "I bet that you don't really want to have people see you topless, do you?"

Brandon stared at the bikini top like it was a snake, but then, somehow, he realized that he knew how to tie it on. Gazing warily at the young lady, he fastened the top on as if he'd been doing it for years. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded once his breasts were covered. "How ... how did you turn me into a girl?"

The girl smiled. "Nice to meet you, too, Brandon. My name is Anya. My grandmother and I run this park. And in answer to your question, the park is magic. The water turned you into a girl, so you'd fit in with our usual clientele."

"The water is magic?" Brandon asked, sounding very skeptical.

"How do you explain that you're now a girl?" Anya asked. "Or that you knew how to tie on a bikini top?"

"I ... I don't know," Brandon admitted slowly. "You're asking me to believe in magic?" His soft, feminine voice quavered with uncertainty.

"Okay, let's give you one more demonstration," Anya said with a grin. "Tell me your name."

"Brittany Ann Edwards," he said. His mouth dropped open in shock at the words that had come from his mouth. "No, that's not right! I'm Brittany — Brittany Ann!" His eyes widened. "Why am I saying a girl's name! I'm not a girl, I'm a _girl_!" She stamped her foot in frustration. "Why can't I say my name?"

Anya chuckled. "When you showered, reality changed. You are Brittany Ann. You've always been Brittany Ann, and everyone remembers Brittany Ann. If you called home, you'd find that your mom would recognize you immediately as her oldest daughter." She smiled. "Go ahead, call her."

"Uh," Brittany stammered, "no thanks." She wasn't ready to put the magic to that level of a test.

"So now that you're a temporary guest of the park, you should find it easier to talk to the girls, and maybe find a vocalist for your group."

Brittany's eyes widened. "You ... you know why I came?"

"Of course. I use magic, remember?"

A sudden thought pierced Brittany's brain. "Um, how long am I ...?"

Anya smiled. "Until your pass expires. That should be Saturday, at midnight."

"Oh." Brittany didn't sound too happy at the prospect. "Um, can you maybe, you know, give me a hand trying to find a singer? Maybe let me post something on your bulletin board?"

Anya nodded. "We don't normally let our guests post anything on our bulletin boards, but in this case, it'll be okay. And by the way, since you're wondering why you're not all freaked out about changing into a girl, I gave you a little extra magic assist so you wouldn't panic. It would be kind of difficult for you to be trying to talk to girls about being a singer in your band if you were freaked-out."

**********

"No luck?" Anya asked as a dejected Brittany walked toward the locker room.

Brittany shook her head. "Nope."

"Why do you want a female vocalist so much? Groups like 'OK Go' and 'Barenaked Ladies' are all male."

Brittany drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "We need the sound we had with Tonya. The band just isn't the same without her. We just think that if we can't get that sound back, we aren't going to get our lucky first break. A good mezzo-soprano was key to a lot of our songs."

"You're serious," Anya observed, having read Brittany's thoughts. "You're not just looking for eye candy, are you?"

Brittany shook her head. "No. If we can get a singer, she's got to be good. Very good. We don't want to waste our time on a girl who doesn't know her music. It'd be good if we could find a girl who can also write music or lyrics, too."

"That's a pretty tall order," Anya observed.

"Tell me about it." Brittany sounded like the task was hopeless.

"Who's in the band now?" Anya asked. It was a curious question. "Who plays what?"

As he wondered why Anya had asked such a question, Brittany had strange thoughts of the band consisting of her, Don, Vinny, Jason, and Nikolai Belekov. She puzzled at that. All the guys knew Nikolai — his parents had emigrated from Russia when he was ten. He was a little shorter and stockier than an average American boy, and he still had a bit of Russian accent, which he could turn on and off at will, and which made him a charmer with the girls. He was a popular guy, and he was also a guitar virtuoso.

Brittany shook her head to try to make sense of conflicting memories. At one point, her Brandon memories told her, the guys had seriously talked about adding Nikolai to the band, but Brandon had been dead-set against it, since he played lead guitar. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he'd been afraid that the guys were moving to push him aside, since Nikolai — or Nick as he preferred to be called — was much better on the guitar. But her Brittany memories told her that Nick _was_ a member of the band, and played lead guitar. She was momentarily befuddled; Brandon's memories said she was looking for a replacement for Tonya, while Brittany's memories said they were only considering adding a girl for backup vocals.

"Why ... why do I remember Nick being part of the band?" Brittany asked Anya, unable to hide the uncertainty in her voice. "And Tonya wasn't?"

"In this reality, you're the female lead, sharing vocals with Jason, and Nick joined the band as the lead guitarist," Anya answered with a smile. "Who does the lyrics now?"

Brittany cocked her head slightly, puzzled. "Mostly Jason and I," she said. "We all contribute to the music, but Don does most of the arrangements."

As they spoke, a girl walked up to Anya. "Hey, Anya, do you know anything about the group that's advertised on your bulletin board?" she asked. She was about twenty, and looked like an average college co-ed.

"Sure," Anya answered with a smile. "Brittany here is the one you want to speak to. It's her band."

Brittany winced at Anya's use of pronouns. "Yeah. We're looking for another vocalist."

The girl looked disappointed. "Did you guys break up or something?"

Brittany shook her head quickly. "No. We just want to add more vocal variety to our music." Her eyes widened in surprise. She had intended to say that they were looking to replace their female lead vocalist who had moved away, but somehow, her words came out differently.

"What's your group?" the girl asked. "Where are you guys playing?"

"We're ‘Radically Chick’." Her jaw almost dropped as she spoke and said the name. She'd intended to say 'Living with Attitudes' — in Anya's alternate reality, the name of the band must have changed as well! And like her own name, she didn't seem to be able to say the old band, but only the new name.

"I'm Leanne Downs. I'm on the student activities board at the college. We had a dance planned next weekend. The problem is that the band we booked had to cancel because their lead singer was in a car accident Wednesday. Now we don't have a band, so we'll have to cancel the dance." The girl raised her eyebrow hopefully. "But if you guys are available, I _think_ I can convince the others on the committee, and we might be able to offer you guys the job — _if_ you're any good." She winced slightly, having listened to previous bands. "It doesn't pay that well, but ...."

Brittany felt her heart race. A gig — at the college? This was _way_ more than she'd expected when she'd come to the park. "I can send you some MP3s of some of our work if you'd like," she offered.

Leanne smiled. "I'll give you my e-mail address, and if you can send them tonight or tomorrow, I can get the other committee members to listen, and then we'll see. I should be able to get back to you by tomorrow night at the latest if it's a go."

"Uh, yeah," Brittany stammered. This was an unbelievable turn of luck. A gig at the college? They'd get a lot of exposure there — and some reasonable cash. From that performance alone, they'd probably get recommendations to Shell Game, where occasionally, some music producers came to look for upcoming talent. It might be a huge break for them.

Anya handed a piece of paper and pen to Leanne, who quickly scrawled her name and contact information on it. "The sooner, the better," she said as she handed the paper to Brittany. "We don't have much time to make a decision."

"I'll e-mail you the demo songs as soon as I get home," Brittany said enthusiastically.

"Great. I look forward to listening to them." Leanne turned and walked toward the locker room.

"That worked out better than I hoped," Brittany said with a smile.

"And since you have a two-day pass," Anya replied, "you can come here tomorrow to continue looking for the elusive female lead singer — if you still want one. The answer to your problem might be right under your nose."

**********

Despite Anya's assurances, Brittany felt more than a little trepidation as she shut off her car. The house was still the same house, her mom's and dad's cars were still the same, but _she_ was different. She was waiting for something else to be radically altered as well.

Slowly, Brittany opened the driver’s door, still expecting some additional surprise. She stepped hesitantly from the car. Unlike at the park earlier, she was wearing tan pants, a pale blue cotton shirt, and sandals on her feet. She'd been mildly surprised to find that her clothing had changed as well, and more-so when she found a handbag with makeup, which she felt that she needed to apply — and knew how to. Like the bikini top, she'd known — through the magic — how to get ready, including blow-drying her hair before she swept it to one side across her forehead and fastening it with a barrette. Now, at home, she walked slowly with her bag of swim gear slung over one shoulder, while she clutched her small purse with the opposite hand. Nervously, she opened the door, and peeked inside.

"Oh, good," Brittany's mom, Anne Williams, called cheerfully. She was pulling a covered pan from the oven, and the aroma of Italian cooking filled the kitchen. "You're home a bit earlier than I thought, so I guess we can all eat dinner together. Can you help your sister set the table?" She acted as though there was nothing unusual at all.

"Sure, Mom," Brittany answered. "Let me hang up my towel and swimsuit first, and then I'll be down." She passed the family room on her way to the staircase.

"Did you get wet, sweetie?" Brittany's dad called lightly from his recliner in the family room.

"Yes, Dad," Brittany groaned. It was a very old joke — any shower, beach outing, or pool party was greeted with the same stale line from her dad.

"Was the park any good?"

"Yeah," Brittany found herself saying enthusiastically. "It was a great park. A lot of fun!"

"Maybe we should all go there on Sunday. We haven't had a family day out in a long time."

"Uh, it's a women's-only park, Dad," Brittany objected quickly. She wondered what would happen if her dad changed at the park. Would he suddenly recognize that she'd been Brandon and had changed? She didn't want to take that chance.

"Oh. Oh, well. It was just an idea." Her dad turned his attention back to his laptop computer. "Oh, by the way," he interrupted himself and looked up, "Jason left a message. The guys are going to be a little late tonight for practice."

"Oh?" Brittany felt an icy chill. She'd forgotten about practice. What was she going to tell the guys? How weird was it going to be now, being in a band with the guys when she was a girl?

**********

Brittany had e-mailed the demo MP3s almost as soon as she'd gotten home, but no sooner had she pressed the 'send' button than she had an almost terrifying thought. She played one of the songs — and, as Anya had said, she found that she — Brittany — was the lead singer in that song. She played another, and found that she was singing backup to Jason. A third had her doing a sultry number — as Brittany. The band sounded the same — possibly even a little better — but in the demos, she was a female singer. Reality had _completely_ changed.

Brittany didn't have time to contemplate the ramifications of the changes; she had to go help with dinner, followed by cleanup chores, and then cramming in some of her homework, before the guys showed up for practice.

Now, however, without the distractions, and facing the reality that she'd been playing and singing in the band for an hour and a half, she started to think of what _had_ changed. In some songs, she had a bit of a radical edginess to her voice that fit the number. In others, she projected a sultry sexiness that surprised her. When she was singing backup, it seemed that she and Jason were perfectly matched vocally.

Brittany set her guitar in its stand and wiped her brow. "Not bad," she said. She was amazed by a number of things. The guys acted as if she'd always been Brittany, as Anya had said, and that she'd always been a part of the band. Their songs had much more variety, including how their old sultry numbers suited a female singer that Tonya had led, while others had an edgy, alternative sound. A few even sounded a little punk.

Jason grinned. "Better than not bad." He unplugged his bass, took the strap off his shoulder, and put the instrument in its case. As he straightened up, he asked, "So what was the big news you said we had to wait to hear?"

Brittany grinned. "I got a contact while I was at the water park. The student activity group at college might be interested in having us perform at a dance next weekend." As soon as she said it, though, she realized what she'd just done. She didn't know what would happen if she changed back. They might not have the gig. She really wouldn’t know until she changed back — and they did or didn't have the performance contract.

"You're kidding!" Vinny exclaimed.

Brittany shook her head. "No. She gave me her contact info, and I sent her some demo songs before you guys got here."

Brittany's dad perked up at that news. "You should have told me," he said. He was in the garage where they rehearsed, unlike the old days when she had been Brandon. While he professed to like their music, Brittany was convinced it was a bit of an over-protective dad thing. She suspected that he didn't trust the other guys with her, mostly because he wasn't really listening, but was working on his laptop while feigning interest. "I'm not sure that playing on a college campus is the best idea ...."

"Daddy," Brittany complained, wincing at the automatic way she'd addressed her father with a girlish term of endearment, "we'll be playing, not partying! Besides, it'll be at the student center, and campus security is pretty strict about underage drinking!"

Brittany's dad sighed. "I guess you're right," he answered slowly. "But you don't have a contract yet, so don't start spending money that you don't have!"

"I won't," Brittany said in an exasperated tone. "I've learned not to, so you and Mom don't nag me!" Their interchange was really warm and friendly underneath the words, even though an outsider could have mistaken it for Brittany being sassy.

"You guys going to Shell Game tomorrow night?" Vinny asked as he climbed out from behind his drum set.

"Sounds good to me," Don and Jason echoed simultaneously.

"Yeah," Nick added. "It should be a lot of fun. I saw that they've got a good band lined up for this weekend."

Then Jason turned to Brittany. "How about you?" he asked. There was something in his tone that seemed different to Brittany, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

"I'm not sure. I guess I'll just see what happens." She couldn't help but notice the wary look she was getting from her dad.

"Well, you can always meet up with us there," Jason replied, sounding hopeful that she'd be at Shell Game. "And you'll let us know the minute you hear about the dance on campus, right?" Brittany nodded.

As Brittany walked to the house with her dad, she commented, "Dad, you don't have to come out when we practice!"

"I can be proud of how my daughter sings, can't I?"

"Daddy, knock it off! I know why you're out there — it's because I'm a girl, with the guys in the band, isn't it?"

Dad sighed. "I guess I'm pretty transparent, aren't I?" He sighed heavily. "I guess I'm not quite ready for my little baby girl to be grown up, and it's hard to not want to be a protective father."

**********

It had been a late night practicing, and with the fatigue of playing hard at the water park, Brittany was nearly exhausted. She trudged up the stair to her bedroom and, after closing the door, flopped heavily on her bed.

It was the first time in a very hectic day that Brittany had a chance of quiet and peace, and the first time she could actually reflect on the day and think about the changes. The park had been fun, despite her fears, but she'd had to temper her relaxation and enjoyment to try to talk to girls who might be interested in singing with the group. It had been emotionally difficult to do simple chores like going to the bathroom. The first time Brittany had used the ladies' room at the park, she'd felt like she was going to die of embarrassment. Part of that feeling had come from being in a ladies' restroom with many other girls and women, all of whom, Brittany was convinced, knew that she'd been a guy. The other part was having to confront her changed anatomy when she used the bathroom. She'd emerged from the stall red-faced, and the sympathetic looks she'd gotten from a couple of ladies didn't help the situation. She was certain that they knew of her change, and that increased her sense of embarrassment.

Dinner had been okay. Brittany was used to helping with dinner chores when she'd been Brandon, so _that_ part wasn't different. What was different was how chatty her mom had been, and the topics she was chatting about. When Brandon helped, it was in silence, or some cursory words about how school was doing, or if he enjoyed his latest date or the movie with friends. But with Brittany, Mom was much more talkative. How was she getting along with friends? Was she still interested in 'that boy'? Sympathetic comments about being a high-school girl with all the distractions, but suggestions of how to focus on her studies and homework, so she could get good grades and get into a good college. Discussion of clothing — with some comment how things were different and more conservative when Mom had been young. Brittany had found herself, surprisingly, arguing that "all the girls are wearing this" when defending one blouse that was common teenage wear, but that her mom thought was too racy. If it hadn't been for the providential sounding of the timer, indicating that the chicken was done, Brittany might have had time to feel uneasy about the conversation.

Practicing with the band was almost normal. Almost. The guys were slightly different in their interactions with Brittany than they had been with Brandon. Jason was a lot more deferential toward Brittany; they'd had none of the usual arguments about the lyrics they were working on, but instead, Jason had readily agreed to changes that Brittany had suggested. As she thought, Brittany considered whether Jason had been trying to curry her favor. The same applied to Nick. He seemed to lose a little of his self-confidence when Brittany talked to him. Was he also trying to court favor? Both of the boys certainly had odd expressions whenever she caught either of them looking at her. She wondered — could they be ...? She quickly discounted the thought. She wasn't in the least interested in Nick. Was she? He _was_ rather attractive, and that accent was really cute! As soon as that thought entered her mind, she cringed and forced it away. There was no way either of them could have a thing for Brittany, especially Jason. She and Jason been friends since forever, and ....

Brittany's eyes suddenly widened. A new set of memories was intruding into her thoughts. She remembered, like it was yesterday, talking with her friends Shelby and Jennifer their seventh grade year, when a cocky kid named Jason had strutted past them with three of his friends, talking loudly about various bands, and why one particular band was his favorite. She remembered telling him that the band was crap compared to another group, and why. He'd taken it as an insult — after all, he was a musician, or at least a musician-to-be, playing a mean bass guitar. Instead of cowering, as he'd expected, she'd confronted him that she played guitar herself, and pretty damned well, and would he like to try to prove that he was better? Her friends had been amused and astounded at her brash nature. Jason had accepted her challenge, and in her garage, she'd more than held her own as a guitarist. As a result, they had become friends, and a band had been born. That part wasn't so different from Brandon's reality. But in this reality, the band was 'Radically Chick'. When she began to focus on singing lead, and only playing rhythm guitar, they'd recruited Nick to join the band.

She couldn't help but reconsider her original thought. It was possible that Jason and Nick _did_ have a thing for her. A part of her found the thought repulsive, but inside, in a tiny recess of her mind, a little part of her was delighted that she could have that effect on boys.

As she considered the change, she became more uneasy. The girl Anya had told her that she'd used some magic to help Brittany adjust, so she wasn't nervous. What if she'd also made her want to _stay_ as Brittany, to not turn back? What if she'd messed with Brittany's mind, so that Brittany found boys attractive, and she enjoyed 'girl' stuff?

Sleep came fitfully to Brittany, interrupted by dreams of being a famous female singer, like Pat Benatar, Lady Gaga, Joan Jett, Cyndi Lauper. Sleep was also interrupted by unsettling dreams of dating, kissing, and having sex with boys — and not just Jason — and loving it so much that she was something of a slut.

**********

Saturday morning, Brittany's cell phone rang, stirring her from her slumber. She closed her eyes momentarily against the brightness of the daylight filtered by the window shades in her bedroom, and then opened them again when the phone continued to ring. Slowly, groggily, she reached her hand from under the comfortable covers and grabbed the phone. "Hello," she said, sounding half-asleep.

"Good morning, sleepyhead! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!" The voice belonged to Wendy Jennings, a long-time acquaintance, who had been Brandon's girlfriend in her male reality.

"Uh, morning," she mumbled.

Wendy laughed. "I bet you're still in bed, aren't you? Did you forget we were going to the water park today?"

Brittany blinked her eyes, trying to fully wake herself. "Uh, no," she said. Her mind was starting to awaken, and she began to search her 'girl' memories to see just what Wendy was talking about.

"Good. We'll be over in forty-five minutes, and we won't wait for you."

"Okay. I'll be ready." Brittany put her cell phone on her nightstand and slowly sat up. A huge yawn accompanied a stretch of her arms, and then she stood up. Her mind was racing to catch the foggy, shadowy memories as the flitted by. Wendy had been Brandon's girlfriend. Wendy was a very sweet — and affectionate — girl, and had a rather effusive, bubbly personality. That was why Brandon had liked dating her. That, and she was fantastic in bed.

When Brandon had changed to Brittany, their relationship had changed to best friends, with — and the memory was a shock to Brittany — occasional minor rivalries over boys. Wendy was a little bit punk in her styling and attitudes, which didn't endear her to the "in" crowd of girls at school, but she and Brittany were too similar in clothing, hairstyles, and attitudes to _not_ befriend each other. Brit had a few intrusive thoughts of double-dating with Wendy, too. Brittany pushed the thoughts of boys out of her mind, and as soon as she did, she remembered the arrangements for the day. On Tuesday, Wendy had decided that their small group — Brittany, Wendy, Gwen, and Erica — should spend a day of fun at the beach. Quickly, though, the idea changed to Bikini Beach, an enclosed water park, because they didn't want to deal with the hassles of some of the arrogant jerks at the beaches who thought they were God's gift to women. The girls could always go elsewhere to tease or pick up boys.

Brittany stared at her clock-radio for a moment before she sighed and shook her head. Forty-five minutes to get ready? Yesterday afternoon at the water park, and again last night when she got ready for bed, she'd come to realize why it took women longer to get ready. Just getting her hair dry and untangled seemed to take forever. She dreaded to think how long it would take if she had longer hair.

Forty-three minutes later, Brittany trudged into the kitchen and, after retrieving a bottle from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"Morning, sweetie," her mom called cheerfully from a desk on one end of the kitchen. "Are you girls still going to the park today?"

"Yeah," Brittany answered nonchalantly. "It's a fun park, and we deserve a girls' day out."

Brittany's mom looked wistfully at her, with the swim bag over her shoulder, lost in thought. "You know, that sounds like a good idea. I think I'll see if Millie wants to go have a ladies' day! The way you describe it, the park sounds like a wonderful place to relax." She laughed when she saw Brittany pale at the suggestion. "And don't worry, honey!" she added. "I promise that if we bump into you, I'll pretend that I don't know you so you won't be embarrassed!"

Brittany's fear wasn't of bumping into her mom at the water park; her 'girl' memories told her that her mom was pretty cool, and that her friends liked Mrs. Williams. In their earlier years the girls had often hung out at Brittany's house so often that they sometimes called Mrs. Williams 'Mom', as a sign of their comfort and affection. No, what Brittany feared was bumping into her mom, or Millie Dawkins, in the locker room changing. The thought of seeing her mom nude sent a shiver down Brittany's spine — one of the 'boy' reactions she still had in her.

When she heard Wendy honk her horn, Brittany darted to the door. She knew that Wendy hadn't been kidding about leaving her behind. "See you later," she called over her shoulder.

As expected, Gwen had the front passenger seat, so Brittany dutifully crawled in behind her. Gwen was nearly six feet tall, being one of the stars on the women's basketball team, and her seat was pushed back all the way to give her legroom. Erica was behind Wendy, so she'd have an inch or two extra of space, which gave Brittany the cramped seat. Mercifully, the ride from her house to Bikini Beach was only about fifteen minutes.

As they drove along, Brittany was mostly silent, only chiming in a few times when her 'girl' memories and instincts gave her confidence to contribute to the conversation. Wendy noticed. As they passed the Lynnwood Mall, she said to Brittany, "You're awfully quiet today, Brit. Something wrong?"

Brittany sighed. "Not really. I'm just feeling a little tired."

"You guys stay up way to late practicing," Gwen laughed. "If it was me, I'd be taking one of the guys to Shell Game instead of playing in your garage."

"Unless you were doing _more_ than just practicing," Erica added with a giggle.

"What? Oh, come on now! That's ridiculous!" Brittany snapped.

"Ooohh," the other girls cooed. "A little too sensitive, aren't you?" Wendy teased.

"Maybe Brit and Jason were practicing a duet," Gwen laughed.

"Yeah. You've had a thing for Jason since seventh grade," Erica noted.

"Would you guys knock it off!" Brittany complained.

"Maybe it's not Jason, but Nick!" Wendy said. She started a semi-credible Russian accent, "You have thing for Nick, da? Americanski girl, strong Russian boy. You make much kissing, da?" The girls roared with laughter.

"There was _none_ of that!" Brittany protested strongly. "We were just practicing! Besides, you know my dad. He's out in the garage every time we practice!"

"I didn't know your dad was such a fan," Gwen said with a chuckle.

"He's not. He just doesn't ...." Brittany's cell phone beeped, indicating that she had a message. "Hang on." She pulled her cell phone from her purse. As soon as she read the text message, her eyes widened, and a broad grin spread across her face. "Woo, hoo! We got it!" she yelled unexpectedly and excitedly.

"You got what?" Wendy asked.

"We got the gig at the college student union this weekend!" Brittany was ready to burst with excitement. "I've got to let the guys know." She began to quickly type on her phone.

"What gig? What are you talking about?" Gwen asked, voicing the curiosity of all the girls.

Brittany didn't even look up from her phone. "Yesterday, I bumped into a girl, Leanne somebody, from the college student activities board. They were looking for a substitute band for a dance this weekend. I sent her some demo stuff, and she was going to let her committee listen, and if they liked it, she said we could have the gig."

"Wow! That's cool!" Erica said, her eyes wide with admiration.

Moments later, she got messages from the other members of the band. "They all said yes, so I've got to call the girl and tell her we'll take it." She turned her attention solely to her phone and called Leanne. After a short discussion, Brittany put her phone away. "It's all set — our first real paying gig!"

"Congratulations," Gwen said, without a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"She said it's an open dance, too, so if I had friends, I should let them know. That means you guys can come, too!" The rest of the short trip was filled with a spirited discussion of whether the girls would go, what they would wear, and whether they should find friends from high school, or try to meet good-looking college guys. Brittany was glad that she'd be performing and wouldn't have to worry about that last subject.

**********

Brandon blinked his eyes as he slowly woke. The bright light streaming in through and around the blinds made his bedroom brighter than if he'd had a light on. He lifted his head a tiny bit, but felt tired from the effort and let his head crash back onto his pillow. At that point, his eyes snapped open. He lifted his head again, and shook it. His hand automatically went up to his head, where his fingers ran through his hair. "Yes! I'm back!"

His bedroom was back to being its usual slightly-messy state, with a few clothes spilling out of a laundry basket in the corner, and remnants of the past school year still cluttering up a nearly-hidden desk. Brandon sighed contentedly at the condition of his room. He'd been quite disturbed by how neat and girly Brittany's room had been, and even more-so by an odd compulsion to keep it that way. He knew he wasn't going to miss that strange detail at all.

Slowly, wearily, Brandon climbed out of bed and stumbled into his bathroom. He wasn't going to miss sitting down to pee, either, he quickly decided. He finished up his morning chores, and then pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, both scavenged from the floor. Standing, he picked up his cell phone to shove in his pocket.

Something nagged at Brandon's mind. Something didn’t seem quite right. Sure, he'd spent two days as a girl, but the band had gotten a gig from that college girl he'd met at the park. Hadn't they? A sudden nervousness came over him as he pulled his phone back out of his jeans pocket.

As soon as he looked at his text messages, his heart sank. There were no messages from Leanne. He sank onto the bed, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. It didn't make sense — he'd sent the demo MP3 files to her, after he'd met her at the park ....

"Oh, shit!" Brandon exclaimed to himself. "I met her at the park!" He knew the answer, and it practically sickened him. The excitement of having a paying gig faded quickly. Leanne had been in contact with Brittany, not him. She had screened Brittany's band, ’Radically Chick’, not Brandon's band ’Living with Attitudes’, and had offered the contract to Brittany. As soon as he changed back to being Brandon, all of those events vanished. It never happened.

Defeated, Brandon trudged to the kitchen and fixed himself a quick breakfast of cereal, a protein shake, and a banana. He ate silently, not even anxious to get the paper from his dad so he could read the two comic strips he enjoyed. Even his mom's cheerful 'good morning' didn't penetrate his funk. After poking at his breakfast a bit, he plodded out to the garage.

Brandon stared at the setup for a while. The amps and speakers, the music stands, the drum set with "Living with Attitudes" on the bass drum — it all mocked him as it sat in silent witness to the band's failure to get noticed. Brandon dropped himself into a chair, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands, contemplating what had almost been. They were _so_ close to getting that break that they needed. So close, and yet so far away. Why, he asked himself? Why did they keep on beating their heads against a wall, struggling to get something that was never going to happen? Why did they keep practicing while they talked about the break? Why?

Brandon stared at his guitar, trying to make sense of what had happened. The instruments and equipment sat silently, as though mocking his questions. Eventually, Brandon tired of sitting, and he realized that he needed an answer. Slowly, it dawned on him that the only one who might be able to tell him something was that girl, Anya, from the water park. She knew about his change, and had said a few things that, in retrospect, made it clear that she understood far more than she'd let on. There was only one thing for him to do — to go to the park and confront Anya. He gulped nervously. Confronting a magic user like Anya might not be such a good idea. He needed to tone down his frustration and try to talk with her calmly. Otherwise — who knew what she'd do?

The drive to the park was short, and Brandon arrived at the ticket window feeling unprepared. He'd tried to rehearse what he was going to ask, or say, while driving, but he ran out of time. Around him, girls and women streamed into the park, some giving him knowing grins at what they knew was about to happen to him.

The only thing was, it wasn't going to happen to him. He watched the family in front of him purchase their passes — a father and mother, son, and a daughter — and then he stepped to the window.

"May I help you?" the girl behind the glass asked pleasantly, managing somehow not to sound bored by having to repeat her greeting for perhaps the hundredth time since opening.

"Um, I'd like to ... er, that is, I was here the other day, and, um ...." Brandon winced, not quite sure how to ask.

"You wanted to speak to me, right, Brandon?" a voice sang sweetly from beside him.

Brandon turned, startled, to see Anya standing there, smiling pleasantly. "Um, er," he started to stammer. She hadn't been there a moment ago, and when she'd appeared, she knew exactly what he wanted. Brandon's confidence waned quickly. "The other day ...."

Anya smiled and took his elbow. "Let's go over here," she turned toward a couple of picnic tables which were near but outside the gate.

As they walked, Brandon's head was swimming in a sea of confusion. Here he was, walking with a very lovely young lady, but one who was a very powerful magic user. She was both intriguing and frightening at the same time. Her brown eyes seemed so inviting, almost hypnotic, as if they could swallow a man's soul, and with her wavy dark hair, pert little nose, and perfect lips, Brandon knew that she could merely talk and get men to do her bidding. At the same time, she had at least the power to turn a man into a woman. Who knows what else she could do? He wondered, for a moment, if her boyfriend knew of her magic abilities, and if so, if that made him nervous. For some reason, it never occurred to him that a lovely girl like Anya might not have a boyfriend.

Anya laughed. "You're right. His name is Greg, and yes, he knows I can work magic, and I think he finds it ... sexy."

Brandon gulped nervously again. She was reading his mind — again, and it made him very uncomfortable. He had no hidden thoughts, he realized.

"So," Anya said as she sat down, gesturing for Brandon to sit as well. "What brings you here?"

"You probably already know," Brandon countered meekly. "I mean, you can read all my thoughts."

"Touché," Anya giggled. 'I'll try not to, if that will make you less nervous."

"Okay." Brandon sighed, staring out over the women flocking toward the entrance gate. "I don't understand. Yesterday, we — the band and I — had a gig at college, but today, we don’t."

Anya smiled. "You figured it out."

"I did?" Brandon was surprised at her answer. He had guessed earlier in the morning, but .... "Because I'm not a girl, 'Radically Chick' never existed, and Leanne never met me, so we never got the offer?" he speculated with uncertainty.

"That sums it up pretty well." Anya looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "The band the college wants is 'Radically Chick'. When you changed back, the band is 'Living with Attitudes', a group that Leanne never heard of. She never met you. The dance is being cancelled. You don't get your break."

"So ... I have to stay a girl if we want the gig?" Brandon asked incredulously. "Shit! I don't want to be a girl!"

"Your choice. And there's one more thing. Whenever someone changes, there's a bit of randomness in the reality shift. The longer the change is from an event, the more randomness that can occur. It's really hard to control," she added, almost apologetically. "If you wait until Friday to change, hoping that 'Radically Chick' is going to perform, you're apt to find out that they don't have a contract."

Brandon's head was spinning. "That means ... if I want to be sure that we have the contract, then ... I have to change ... now? And stay a girl all week?" He shook his head. "I don't want to be a girl!" he said vehemently."

Anya simply shrugged. "There's not a lot I can do."

"You mean you can't just wave your arms and make it so that we have a contract at college Friday?" Brandon sounded like he was almost begging.

"I'm not a wishing well," Anya said with a wry smile. "I don't work like that. It's kind of difficult to weave through all of the repercussions of change to make sure things are right. Something that big would be awfully difficult, too. Besides, I prefer to confine my magic to the park."

Brandon sighed heavily. "What am I going to do?" he asked rhetorically. Then he turned to Anya, hoping she'd give him some idea or alternative.

Anya just shook her head. "You have a choice. Buy a pass and have the gig, or don't change, and don't have a contract. It sounds simple. But buying a pass and getting this one gig isn't going to make everything better."

Brandon didn't seem to notice her warning, buy focused on the choice she presented. "What happens after that? If I change back, it won't have happened. We wouldn’t have performed, and we wouldn't be noticed." He shook his head. "It's all pointless, then."

"Not necessarily," Anya countered. "Like I said, when reality changes, there are subtle differences. When you change back, it's possible that your male band would have gotten some kind of performance. The longer you stay a girl, with a contract for your band, the more likely that something similar would have happened in this reality, too."

"So you're saying that it's a crap shoot, right?"

"Pretty much." Anya smiled. "But then, so is life. Nothing is certain, so you take your chances and deal with what you get."

"Except for you," Brandon scoffed. "I bet you don't have any random crap messing up your life."

Anya laughed aloud. "You'd be surprised. While I can see the future — some — and I can read people's thoughts, I still get surprised more frequently than you might guess. Magic isn't an exact science, you know."

Brandon tried to laugh along with her joke, but he really wasn't in the mood, and his laugh sounded hollow. He sat, staring at the women walking across the parking lot, breathing slowly and deliberately. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice," Anya replied.

"Not if the band wants to get noticed before we're in nursing homes," Brandon countered sarcastically. "I guess I need to buy a pass so I can spend the next week as a girl."

"You make it sound like a death sentence. It wasn't that bad, was it?"

Brandon snorted. "I guess most of it was okay, but there were a few weird things."

Anya stood up. "C'mon. Let's go get you a pass, then."

**********

Brittany waited in the hall for Erica and Wendy to finish with their history class. Her biology class had ended early when another girl threw up violently while dissecting frogs. The mess and smell hastened the end of the class. So far, school had been relatively normal — if by normal, one meant getting used to attention from guys who'd never been Brandon's friends, going to gym class with girls, and using the girls' restrooms. She didn't know if the attention was simply because she was a girl, or because word of the dance had gotten around, and she was a bit of a celebrity. The worst part, Brittany realized to her horror, was that it all seemed so normal, even comfortable — maybe too much so.

The one negative was Allison and her gang of 'popular' cheerleaders. Allison was downright bitchy and nasty to Brittany, calling her a tramp and a slut, and worse. The 'in-crowd' of girls was either shunning Brittany and her friends, or were mocking them mercilessly. It was, by far, the least pleasant part of her whole change. Then, suddenly, she realized that girls had another bit of biological unpleasantness, and it struck her that, if she stayed a girl much longer, she'd have to deal with what she'd overheard girls describing as a nightmare of cramps, bloating, bleeding, and general hell. She started hoping that her period wouldn't occur this week.

"Hey, Brit," a voice called from the direction she wasn't looking.

Brit turned. She'd recognized the voice immediately. It was Ed Nathanson, Felicia Ormand's boyfriend. In this reality, Felicia was a friend, but not a really close one. In the old reality, Ed had been the casual friend. "Hey, Ed." One of his friends, Roger Swenson, was with him.

"Wendy said that you guys got a performance at the college Friday night. That's cool!"

Brittany smiled as she shrugged. "Yeah. I hope we do okay."

Roger grinned. "I wish it was at Shell Game, though. I'd love to see you guys play."

"Well, maybe we'll get a chance to play there soon," Brittany answered casually. She could tell, from the way that Roger was fawning at her, that he was more than a little interested. She found the thought repulsive; if she wanted anyone to be interested in her, it was Jason or Nick. And as soon as that thought entered her head, Brittany banished it with a shudder. She was _not_ interested in Jason or Nick as anything more than friends and part of the band. But of the two, another thought intruded - Jason was more her style.

Roger's and Ed's interest wasn't the first that Brittany had encountered. News of their gig at college had spread like wildfire, and she found herself a bit of a celebrity. She told herself that she hated the extra attention — mostly because she was a girl, but in her heart, when she really, honestly thought about it, she had to admit that it was fun to be the center of attention.

"Hey, Brit." Wendy and Erica had been part of the horde spilling out of the history class, and they saw Brittany waiting. "You're here early."

"Tiffany blew chunks all over the biology lab, so we got out of class a bit early," Brittany chuckled.

"Lucky you. We just finished a pop quiz," Erica complained.

"Ready for lunch?"

"After watching projectile vomit?" Brittany asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "I don't think I'm really hungry."

"You better get something. You don't want to be distracted by a rumbling stomach while you're trying to take a math test."

"Ugh! Thanks for reminding me!" Brittany complained. She and her friends turned to walk down the hall to the cafeteria. "Maybe I'll just get a salad." As they walked, she continued an earlier conversation. "So are you guys going to the dance Saturday?"

Wendy smiled. "I'm not sure. I think it'll be a lot of fun."

"Yeah. We might find some cute college guys!' Erica added gleefully.

"If your dad lets you," Brittany laughed.

"Yeah, there is that," Erica said with a smile.

Brittany found herself hoping that the girls would come to the dance. While she was unusually comfortable, she was still quite nervous about being a girl and performing at the college, surrounded as she would be with lots of older college boys — many of whom would — she slowly realized —be trying to hit on her. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought. Having Erica and Wendy at the dance would give her a feeling of security — assuming that they didn't decide to hook up with some college guy!

**********

"We'll be back after a short break," Brittany purred into the microphone as she gazed out into the dark room. She couldn't see much past the lights, but she knew, from drama class in high school, that she had to at least pretend to make eye contact with the crowd. She put the mic back in its stand, and then wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Brittany almost bent over to put her guitar in its stand, but she remembered — at the last minute — that if she did, she'd give some guys a free view right up her skirt. Sighing to herself, she squatted and set her guitar down. "I need a Coke," she said as she straightened up.

Jason laughed. "Downside of being lead singer?"

Brittany chuckled. "That's one. My throat is dry, and I'm all sweaty." She strode off the stage and into a side room. Immediately the cacophony of hundreds of students talking was damped. She grabbed a bottle of soda, and then slumped wearily into a chair, being careful to cross her legs so anyone in the room wouldn't be able to see up her short, black, leather skirt. She wore a matching leather vest, open in front, over a red blouse that looked very much like a bustier with a push-up bra, showing more than a hint of cleavage. Her calves were wrapped in tight, high-heeled black leather boots over her fishnet stockings. Her choice of outfit for the night had practically sent her dad to the emergency room with a heart attack; if it hadn't been for her mother's intervention, her dad would have insisted that she dressed as modestly as a nun. She had on heavy makeup, to compensate for the bright stage lights; her mom had even had some helpful suggestions on makeup and jewelry to complete the look she wanted. Saturday morning before the concert, she'd gotten her hair cut into a little more radical, shorter, sassier style, and had deep reddish highlights added. With gaudy earrings, she looked the part of the band's name — "Radically Chick."

"We're nailing it," Vinny grinned between sips of water.

"I think they like us," Don said with a satisfied smile, sitting in another chair. He suddenly levered himself up. "I've got to take care of something."

Vinny laughed. "Me, too! My bladder is about to burst."

"I thought it was girls that went to the restroom in pairs," Brittany scoffed.

"Stuff it!" Don snapped quickly. "I wonder if there are any college girls who noticed us," he said reflectively.

"Da!" Nick smiled. "Maybe are girls interested in foreign guitar player in rock band!" he said playfully, having turned on his accent. "Perhaps should go to be seeing how many fans I have made with incredible guitar solos." With a slight swagger to his step, he strode out of the room, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Five bucks says he gets a girl tonight," Don said softly.

"That's a sucker bet," Jason answered sharply. "He knows how to work that accent. It'd be a surprise if he _doesn't_ get laid tonight." He shook his head. "I wonder if any girls noticed the rest of us."

Vinny sighed. "The only people I saw paying attention to anyone were all the guys gawking at Brit!"

Brittany felt a shudder course up and down her spine at that thought. "Well, if they are, they're going to be disappointed, because I'm definitely not interested in any of them!"

The guys left Brittany, sitting alone in the room, resting and sipping her soda. This was a good Saturday night — far better than she'd expected. Vinny was right — the crowd really liked the band, and they were being paid quite generously. Now, if they could manage to get another gig or two....

A knock interrupted her thoughts. "Excuse me?" The interloper was older, in his mid-twenties, but casually dressed like most of the college students.

"Can I help you?" Brittany asked carefully. Being a girl was still strange to her, so she was cautious.

"I'm Steve Fields. I'm ... a booking agent, which means I arrange musical entertainment for my clients."

Brittany was on her feet instantly. "Uh, hi," she said, eyes wide with surprise as she shook his hand. "I'm Brittany Williams."

Mr. Fields smiled. "Yes, I know. I read your flier."

"What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping that I could do something for you," Mr. Fields replied.

"Oh?" Brittany suddenly felt a little paranoid. "Something for us?"

"I represent a number of performance venues that book bands such as yours for live entertainment. I think you know one of them — Shell Game?"

"Who doesn't know of Shell Game?" Brittany replied, a bit sarcastically. "It's only the most popular hangout for teens in a three-county area."

"Yes, I know," Mr. Fields replied with a knowing smile. "They're one of the places that use my services."

"So, let me guess. You can get us booked at some nice places, where we might get more notice?" Brittany sounded very skeptical. "And ... what do you charge for your services?" she asked. Suddenly, she wished the guys were here with her. Mr. Fields was making her very nervous. She realized that, unlike Brandon, she was small and vulnerable.

Mr. Fields understood her hesitation. He laughed, holding up his left hand to display a ring. "No, nothing like that. I'm way too married to be chasing teenage girls." He pulled out a card from his shirt pocket. "I just wanted to give you my card. I hope you'll come by the office with some demo music next week. If you — and the rest of the band — wouldn't mind, I'd like to recommend you to the managers of a couple of my clients."

Inwardly, relief flooded over Brittany like a wave. "I can talk to the guys," she replied. "They might be interested." She didn't want to commit to anything more until she had a chance to talk with the rest of the band.

Mr. Fields nodded. "I understand. Have your manager give me a call, and we'll see if there's anything that might interest you."

"Um," Brittany hesitated, "we're kind of self-managed."

Fields shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "Do yourself a big favor and hire a manager. If my instincts are right, you kids are going places, and if you don't have a manager, this business is going to chew you up and spit you out."

"Uh, thanks," Brittany added.

"And give me a call." With that, Fields left the private area.

Brittany was thinking of what he'd said, and how to tell the guys, when the pressure in her bladder became too much to ignore. Sighing, she took one last swig of soda and stood. She knew it would be a gauntlet of guys, all interested in her, before she could make it to the ladies' restroom.

**********

The sunshine through the blinds was intolerable to Brittany; she tried to pull her covers over her head, and when that failed, buried her head under a pillow. For several long moments, she lay still, trying to get back to sleep, but eventually, she gave up and struggled to sit up. She sat, taking slow, deep breaths, her eyes half-shut, for quite a while as sleep drained away from her and her brain began to awaken.

For a moment, she wondered if last night hadn't been a dream, but as her neurons began firing more regularly, those thoughts drained away. The band _had_ played at the college dance. She shuffled to her dresser and opened her purse. Inside, to confirm the gig at which they'd played, she found a one-page folded paper with the check at the bottom and the receipt at the top. She remembered how she and the guys had stared at it, wide-eyed, grinning from ear to ear. It had been a very good night; the crowd had seemed to like the music. They'd certainly been very enthusiastic.

As she unfolded the check to look at it more closely, a card dropped to the floor. She bent over to pick it up, and her mind told her that it was the music booking agent. She realized that she'd forgotten to tell the guys. Not caring what time it was, she picked up her cell phone to remedy the situation.

"Jason? Brit," she said, sitting back on the edge of her bed. "Yeah, it was a good gig. Hey, I just remembered that during one of our breaks, I met a guy who said he's some kind of agent who finds bands for places. He specifically mentioned Shell Game, too." She realized that she'd been prattling on rapid-fire, so she paused to let Jason speak. "Yeah, I've got his card. A guy named Steven Fields. He said I should give him a call." Another pause. "I don't know. Anyway, we need to talk about it, because he said he wanted to recommend us to some of his clients."

"I don't know if he was talking about Shell Game," she continued, sounding exasperated. "Maybe. I guess we won't know until we call him, but I don't want to do that until we all agree."

"I guess nine-thirty would work. In the garage? Are you going to call Vinny, Nick, and Don?" She absently ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. "Okay, I'll see you guys about nine."

As soon as she hung up, Brittany checked the time. She had about an hour to get dressed and get some breakfast, and based on the previous week, that was going to be cutting it close.

Brittany smelled breakfast cooking as she walked to the kitchen. She smiled to herself; as a little girl, she used to love helping her dad cook his Sunday-morning breakfast once a week. It was a standing agreement that cooking time was private time for the two of them; Mom was banished to the television, her computer, or her garden. Even as she smiled at the fond memories, starting as long ago as she could remember, she winced. The magic changes were still surprising her with 'girl' memories of childhood. For a brief moment, she wondered how long it would be before she completely forgot that she had been Brandon, and all the 'boy' memories vanished. An icy shiver ran down her spine at that thought.

"Hi, Daddy," Brit said. "Smells good." It was becoming a lot less weird to call him 'Daddy'.

"I hope you don't mind that I started breakfast without you." He sounded a little hurt, like he missed having that special time with his little girl, and was disappointed that she wasn't helping him.

"I'm sorry," Brit apologized, feeling a pang of regret at having disappointed her dad. "I was up late last night."

"I know, sweetie," Dad said. "But I was also up late waiting and worrying, like parents are supposed to. Last night you said that you thought you'd done pretty well."

Brit smiled. "They were pretty enthusiastic. A lot of guys were telling me that we were good, and they hoped that we'd be playing at the college and Shell Game a lot more."

Dad's eyebrows rose. "How much of that was true fans, versus guys who were a little too interested in my princess?"

"Oh, Daddy," Brit laughed. "You worry too much!"

"I'm a father. I can't help it."

"A guy who's a talent scout for bands gave me his card last night. He thinks he can help us get auditions." She saw the worried frown on Dad's face. "He also suggested that we have a manager, so we don't get ripped off." She got a plate from the cupboard. "I hope you don't mind if I eat and run, but the guys are coming over to talk about the whole thing."

"That's okay. I know I have to start getting used to you not being around once you graduate and go to college." There was more than a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Could you be our manager?" Brit asked, pausing from pouring syrup on her waffle.

"I appreciate your confidence in me," Dad said, flattered by her request, "but I'm a physics teacher, and I'm not good with money. You know I let your mother handle the finances," he laughed, and then one eyebrow rose, indicating that he'd had a revelation. "Now there's an idea — why don't you ask Mom to be your manager. She worked as an accountant for a number of years, and then ran a whole purchasing department."

"That might work," Brit agreed eagerly. She was halfway done with her breakfast when the doorbell rang. She started to stand, but her dad beat her to it. "I'll get it." He opened the door to greet the visitor. "Good morning, Jason."

"Hey, Mr. Williams. Mmm, that smells good. I wish my dad would cook breakfast like that." Jason sat down at the table opposite Brittany.

"If you're hungry, I can dish up some eggs for you. But I'm afraid Brittany took the last waffle, so I'll have to mix up some more batter."

Jason shook his head. "Nah. I had a couple of donuts on the way over." He turned his attention to Brittany. "So, what's this about a talent scout or something?"

Brittany noticed that her dad's ears perked up so he could listen, too. She decided to ignore it; after all, he was trying to help her avoid getting hurt or taken advantage of. "He said he has a lot of clients that have him book their entertainment. Wedding receptions, dances, some clubs, and most importantly, Shell Game."

"What do you think?"

"How about if we wait for the other guys to get here?" Brit suggested. She finished a bite of waffle, and then pushed her plate away.

"What did you think about last night?" Jason changed topics. "I thought they really liked us."

"Yeah," Brit agreed. "A few guys asked where they could buy our music."

"Cool."

"Were you trying to sell some MP3s to that redhead you were drooling over?" Brit asked with a wry smile.

"I ... wasn't .... I mean, I was just talking to some girls ...." Jason sputtered, embarrassed, before he saw Brittany's smile and realized that she was teasing him. "Would you quit doing that?" he complained.

"Yeah, I know," Brit giggled. "You're more interested in your music than in girls."

"Not true," Jason replied, a smile spreading across his face. "There is at least one girl who's gotten my attention."

"If she does anything to distract you from playing in the band, I'll hit her."

Jason grinned. "I won't let you hit her! I wouldn't want to see our star singer getting hurt!" Brit couldn't help but see the implication of his comment. "Are you going to Shell Game with the girls tonight?"

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know. I hadn't decided yet."

"I ... we could ... that is, I could take you," Jason mumbled, barely able to look at Brittany as his cheeks reddened, embarrassed at trying to ask Brittany out in front of her father.

"It looks like Don and Vinny just pulled into the driveway," Dad said, interrupting Jason's attempt to get a date with Brittany.

Brit took one last swallow of juice before she pushed her chair back and walked outside, with Jason right behind her. Don and Vinny were crawling out of Don's car, so Brit walked directly to the garage. She saw Nick's motorcycle coming down the street. After pushing the buttons of the electronic combination lock, she opened the door and stepped inside, pausing only to turn on the lights.

While the guys were coming into the garage, Brit walked to her guitar, on its stand, and picked it up. Her touch on the instrument was almost a tender caress, a loving feel of adoration. In her mind, the concert of the previous evening was replaying, with all the lights and dancing, and the appreciative new fans who'd applauded them loudly at the end of the night. She found herself smiling at the memories.

"So, what's up?" Don interrupted her reverie. "Jason said something about a some kind of agent?" The impatience in his voice wasn't disguised.

Brittany sighed, enjoying one last second of the memories of singing and rocking on the stage, while playing her guitar . Other songs, she sang without playing anything, while Nick dazzled the crowd with his fantastic guitar riffs. She set her instrument down. "A guy who said he's a booking agent was at the dance. During one of our breaks, he gave me his card." She handed the card to Jason.

"Some kind of scam, maybe?" Nick sounded skeptical. "Trying to hit on our lead singer?" There was a look in his eyes that seemed to be jealousy of Brit receiving attention from another man.

Brittany decided to ignore the subtle meaning of Nick's comment. "No, I don't think so. He's pretty legit. This morning, I checked his website and Googled his company. It all seems on the level." She shrugged. "He's the booking agent for Shell Game, and he does a lot of business booking performers for weddings, bar mitzvahs, and such."

"What do you think?" Jason pointedly asked her.

"I think it's worth taking a chance. According to his website, the band doesn't pay. His clients pay him his fee separately, so it's not like he's a shark out to take a percentage from us."

Don considered the opportunity for a very brief moment. "Yeah, let's go for it."

Vinny, however, wasn't so quick. "I don't know," he began. "I'm not sure any of us have the experience to get into dealing with these kinds of guys. We could easily end up getting screwed." The others mused over his words before they nodded their agreement.

Brittany half chuckled. "Daddy said the same thing this morning. In fact, last night, the guy suggested that we get ourselves a manager to protect our interests."

"And I suppose that he has a 'friend' that he recommended?" Vinny asked sarcastically.

"Nope. All he suggested is that we get a manager," Brit answered.

"Do you have any ideas?" Jason asked.

"I asked my dad," Brit replied, "and he said no, that he's not a business type. But he did suggest my mom."

"Your mom?" Don was surprised.

"She did accounting and business work for a long time," Brit said. "Have you got any ideas yourself?" She sounded more defensive than she'd intended, or realized.

The guys glanced among themselves, and then looked back at Brittany, shaking their heads. "Not really."

"I'll ask her, then. And what about the booking agent?" Again, there were no objections, or if so, they weren't vocalized. "Okay, I'll call and leave a message and see when we can meet with him." Brittany suddenly realized that she was going to change back to being Brandon at midnight. She wondered if that would make any difference with a meeting. After only a second's hesitation, she decided that she'd just have to take that chance.

"Great," Jason said with a smile. "Now, since we're all here, Don and I got a new number we should try out."

Brittany glanced at her watch. "This early on Sunday morning? It'll drive the neighbors nuts."

"So we turn the amps down a bit. Besides, isn't that why your dad had the garage soundproofed and insulated? So we could practice year-round and not bug the neighbors — or him?"

"That's what he _said_ it was for. I think he just wanted to keep a closer eye on his little girl!" Jason teased.

"Who isn't such a little girl anymore," Nick added with a wink at Brittany. He turned on the amps, and then adjusted the sound settings.

Brittany chuckled. "I don’t think he likes our type of music, and he wanted peace and quiet himself." She turned and walked to the microphone, taking her place so the group could jam, while Nick did a few chords and riffs to warm up.

**********

Brandon strode through the hallway toward the lunchroom. So far, school was normal; like last time he'd changed back, no-one remembered Brittany, and many of the kids had memories of Brandon hanging out with them at Shell Game on Saturday night.

"Hey, Brandon, wait up," he heard behind him. He paused and turned to see Wendy walking quickly to catch up to him.

Brandon smiled. He couldn't help smiling around Wendy. She was always so pert and cheerful, and pretty, too. He was lucky to have her as his girlfriend.

As soon as she caught up, Brandon resumed strolling toward the cafeteria, with Wendy at his side. "I had fun dancing Saturday," she said happily.

"So did I," Brandon lied. Memories of dancing with Wendy at Shell Game were faint, and were conflicting with his memories of Brittany playing at the college. "But I wish we could play there."

"If you were playing, I wouldn't get to dance with you," Wendy complained with a playful pout on her face.

"That _would_ be a big downside," Brandon laughed. Inside, he was thinking that if he were playing — as Brittany and 'Radically Chick' — Wendy would be her BFF, not a girlfriend. The thought was both disturbing and calming — disturbing in that he'd lose a girlfriend, but calming in that she'd never notice the reality change. The upside would be that they'd get noticed as a band, and maybe score some bigger performances.

"Hey, Brandon," one of the guys from the football team called out, "is your band ever going to play anywhere so we could hear you? Or are you guys the sound of silence?" He was laughing out loud as he mocked Brandon and ’Living with Attitudes.’

Brandon scowled. It was the usual heckling from some of the so-called cool kids. Brandon had long ago learned to not let them get under his skin, even if it did remind him of how little ’Living with Attitudes’ had played in public. "Up yours," he snapped. He wanted to say more, but he knew it would probably be overheard or reported, and then he'd get in trouble — probably with a detention.

"Ignore him," Wendy said as she grasped Brandon's arm and leaned her head onto his shoulder. "He's just a jerk, like all the jocks."

"I know. But they're still annoying."

"If school was over, I'd let you drive me home so we could make out in my driveway. That'd take your mind off things," Wendy purred suggestively.

"You're making me wish it _was_ after school," Brandon replied eagerly.

"Okay, so you'll pick me up after school?"

Brandon started to reply, but he had to force himself to think of his priorities. He had to get to the booking agent's office after school. "I have an errand to run. How about if you come along with me, and then we can go ... have some fun?"

Wendy clutched his arm tighter. "Sounds like a plan to me."

**********

Brandon glanced at Wendy, sitting in the passenger seat. She smiled at him, and he gave her a big grin. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"I heard of a booking agent that arranges gigs for bands. I wanted to give him some of our demos, so maybe he can book us for some performances."

"Where would he book you?" Wendy asked, curious.

"Weddings, bar mitzvahs, civic group dances, that sort of thing. And I heard that he books bands for Shell Game, too."

"That's be great. Except ...."

"Except what?" Brandon asked, his curiosity piqued by Wendy's unspoken comment.

"If you're playing there, we can't dance!" she said with a pout.

"If we get a gig playing there, I promise I'll make it up to you."

Wendy leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll hold you to that promise," she purred.

"First thing, though, is he needs to listen to our music. We're just another garage band to most people," Brandon said with a sigh. He was feeling less and less confident of meeting the booking agent with every passing minute. It was a short drive from school to Mr. Fields' office. He pulled his car into a parking spot and shut off the ignition.

"Nervous?" Wendy guessed accurately.

Brandon nodded. "Yeah."

She leaned over and gave him another quick kiss. "Don’t' be. You guys are good."

"Yeah, I guess so." He opened his door. "Let's get this over with."

Inside, the receptionist looked up from her computer at him, a bored expression on her face. "May I help you?" she asked in a less-than-friendly tone.

"Yeah," Brandon started hesitantly. "I wanted to talk with Mister Fields about my band, to see if he might be able to help us get performances."

The receptionist looked disdainfully at him. "Mister Fields isn't available at the moment. If you would give me a copy of your press kit and some demo music, I'll see that it gets to him."

"Uh, we don't have a press kit," Brandon admitted.

The receptionist sighed, rolling her eyes. "Do you at least have some music samples I can give him?"

Brandon hastily pulled a memory stick from his pocket. "We've got a lot of our work on here. It may not be the best sound, because we recorded it in my garage, but it's some of our original works and some where we've done other songs."

The receptionist took the memory stick and dropped it on in a mail basket. Brandon's heart sank when he saw several thick envelopes in the basket, with what were obviously demo CDs and memory sticks. ’Living With Attitudes’ was just another hopeful band in a large pool, he realized.

"Thanks," Brandon said half-heartedly, before he and Wendy walked out of the office. As they crawled into the car, Brandon shook his head. "That doesn't look very hopeful."

Wendy shrugged. "How about if I go cheer you up a little?"

Brandon had a flash of insight. Mr. Fields would have alerted his receptionist to watch for ’Radically Chick’, since he had personally talked to Brittany. But ’Living with Attitudes’ was just another band that he'd never heard. The wheels in his mind were turning rapidly as a plan formed. "I've got a better idea. How about if we swing by your house to pick up your swim suit, and then we'll go to that water park — Bikini Beach — and play for a bit. And _then_ we can go make out?"

Wendy smiled. "That sounds like fun. I love that place."

Brandon smiled to himself. Apparently, Wendy didn't know of the magic. He could change, and she'd be none the wiser. And while changed, he could try to call or text Mr. Fields about ’Radically Chick’. He had a feeling, though, that a change to meet with Mr. Fields would end up being for longer than just a day or two.

A few minutes later, Brandon walked to the ticket booth at Bikini Beach. "I'll get your ticket, too," he promised Wendy. He wasn't surprised to find Anya working in the booth.

"I was expecting you," she said to Brandon with a grin.

"Yeah, I guessed," he admitted. There was no surprising this girl. "You know why I'm here, then?"

"You're planning to change for a while again, to see if Mr. Fields remembers 'Radically Chick', and if he'll listen and agree to book you."

"Yeah, that's about it," Brandon agreed. "If, after the changes, he's still interested in the band."

"He will be," Anya replied confidently. "And Wendy?"

Brandon shook his head. "She doesn't know."

"It's probably best that way."

"Yeah. So how long a pass do I need this time?"

"A week should do," Anya answered without hesitation.

The confidence in her voice sent a shiver down Brandon's spine. She knew things that she wasn't telling him. "Okay," he agreed, pulling out his wallet. He took the passes, and handed one to Wendy.

"I'll meet you in the plaza," she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

Brandon had a momentary pang of regret at what he was going to do. As soon as he changed, Wendy would be Brittany's best friend, not Brandon's girlfriend. There wouldn't be any of the kiss that he'd just received, nor of the sex that she'd hinted about for later. But the band — he pushed aside the distracting thoughts about Wendy and focused on what it would mean to the band.

Before she left the locker room, after changing into a girl, Brittany checked her cell phone. She wasn't surprised, somehow, to find a text from Mr. Fields acknowledging his receipt of 'Radically Chick's demo material. With a huge grin, she put her phone in her purse, locked it and her clothes inside a locker, and strode out to the plaza to meet Wendy, her BFF. The two of them would have fun — just two friends out for a relaxing day — riding the slides and tubes, and lounging around in hammocks.

**********

"I heard you guys played at the college last weekend," one of the girls said as she passed Brittany and Wendy in the hallway. School was out, and they were walking out to their cars.

Brittany grinned. "Yeah. It was a blast."

"Did you meet any cute college guys?" another girl asked in a suggestive tone.

Wendy laughed. "She was up on stage performing all night. But _I_ did!"

"You were there?" A small crowd was forming around Wendy and Brittany.

"It was an open dance, so Gwen, Erica, and I went." She grinned. "We all danced with a bunch of cute guys."

"Oooh!" the girls cooed.

"Did they like you guys?" one asked Brit.

"I think so," Brit answered, trying but failing to be modest. "The head of the social committee even talked about booking us for their winter dance."

"Cool!"

"I've got to run to meet with a booking agent," Brittany excused herself. Inwardly, she was delighted at the positive attention. It was like she was a bit of a celebrity. It felt nice after having languished in obscurity for so long as Brandon and ’Living with Attitudes.’

As soon as she walked into Mr. Fields' outer office, the receptionist looked up and greeted her. "You must be the girl from 'Radically Chick'," she said.

"Brittany Williams," Brit introduced herself. "Yes, I'm part of the group."

"Mister Fields said you'd probably be stopping by. I'll let him know you're here."

Brittany's eyes widened. She was going to see Mr. Fields, without an appointment? He must have been impressed with the band's performance at the college dance. It was such a difference from how Brandon had been received. "Okay," she replied. She started to walk to a seat.

Mr. Fields came out of his office before Brittany could sit down. "Hi," he said as he shook her hand. "Glad you could make it by. I was about to call you."

"But ...." Brittany was confused. How could he have called her? He had given her _his_ card, not vice-versa.

Fields read her confusion. "I took the liberty of getting your number from Ms. Downs at the college." He gestured for her to go into his office, and to take a seat opposite his desk. "She was kind enough to send me the demo music you'd provided her."

"Oh?" The surprises were coming at Brittany non-stop.

"I liked what I heard Saturday, and I liked what I heard on the demos. I'm pretty sure I can arrange an audition with the manager at Shell Game — if you're interested."

Brittany's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "If we're interested? Hell, yes!" she answered enthusiastically. "That's, like, a primo spot for a band to play!"

Mr. Fields smiled. "I thought so." He picked up his phone and dialed. "Hey, Doug? It's Steve. Listen, I've got a pretty hot band that I think you'd be interested in hearing." He smiled at Brittany. "They played a dance at the college last weekend. The college kids seemed to really like them." He frowned a bit. "That's kind of short notice, isn't it?" A pause. "No, I understand. I'll see what I can do. Talk to you later." He hung up the phone. Before Brittany could ask, he explained, "Mr. McNeil would like to meet you guys and hear what you've got."

"That's great!" Brittany exclaimed. "But ...?" She'd seen the expression on Fields' face.

"He'd like to see you guys tonight if at all possible."

Brittany thought for a moment, considering what she knew about the guys' schedules. "Give me a sec," she answered. She pulled out her phone and began to frantically tap out a message. "I just texted the guys to see if they're free. And my mom."

"Your mom?" Fields was confused.

"She's agreed to be our manager."

Fields frowned. It was more than clear that he wasn't impressed with the thought of a parent as a manager. Parents as managers were usually a royal pain the ass. "Don't you think ...?"

Brittany knew what he was going to say. "She used to work in accounting and purchasing. She knows her stuff."

Fields relaxed visibly at Brittany's explanation. "Okay. Let's see what your band says."

In short order, Brittany had answers from everyone. "We're all good," she announced. "What time should we be there?"

"Seven thirty."

"Does he want us to audition live," Brittany continued her questioning, "or just meet us and hear some MP3s we recorded?"

"Just meet and listen. No formal audition." Mr. Fields smiled confidently. "Your demos are good, and it would be asking too much to have you move your gear, set up, and then audition."

"If he wanted an audition, he could always see us in our garage."

"Your garage?"

Brit chuckled. "Yeah, I know — it sounds kind of trite. But my dad had the garage insulated and sound-proofed, and he put in an air conditioner. He even installed some acoustic panels for the ceiling and walls so it wouldn't echo. It's really not bad — we record our stuff there."

"Your dad must like your music. Either that, or he's spoiling his little girl."

Brit laughed out loud. "I think it's the latter. He's not too fond of our music. And he doesn't like to hear the neighbors complaining."

"You'll meet Mr. McNeil at Shell Game tonight, then, at seven-thirty." Fields rose, indicating that the meeting was over. "Do you, by chance, have any pictures or video of the band performing?"

Brit thought a moment. "I'll check with my friends, who were at the dance. They might have something. If they do, I'll be sure to bring it."

"Sounds good." He walked Brittany to his office door. "When you meet tonight, just be yourselves. Sometimes, it can be intimidating to interview. Just relax."

"We'll try." Brit was starting to feel butterflies in her stomach just thinking about an interview at Shell Game. She hoped that she and the guys could be composed.

**********

The walls of the office were full signed mementos and pictures from various bands that had played at Shell Game, including some framed photos of bands which had started their careers there. The man who greeted them grinned as he noticed the awestruck looks on the faces around him. "I'm Doug McNeil, manager of this humble little establishment." His attempt at humor didn't do anything to put the kids at ease.

"Brittany Williams," Brit answered, shaking his hand. "I play guitar, and I'm the lead singer."

"Jason Green. Bass guitar and vocals." He shot a quick glance at Brittany when she claimed to be 'lead vocals'. They alternated singing lead, depending on the song, and he was a little upset that she had claimed to be the only lead vocalist.

"Vinny Rascone. I play drums."

"Don Ellison, keyboard."

"I'm Nikolai Belakov," Nick introduced himself. He was letting his natural accent come through, with just a hint of his foreign origin. "I play guitar."

Mr. McNeil turned to Brittany's mom. "And you are ...?"

"Anne Williams," she said in a warm but professional tone. "I got drafted to be their manager."

"Oh?" Doug's eyebrows shot up at the news. He noted that she had the same last name as the lead singer. He wondered if she was a 'stage mom'.

Anne chuckled at his reaction. "The kids don't have any business experience. I've been in contracts and procurement for most of my working career, so I'm here to help them out a little." She smiled. "Of course, that won't help if you don't like their music."

Mr. McNeil guffawed at her comment. It was the perfect light-hearted thing to say to keep tension down. He was in his mid-forties, fit, but with a receding hairline. He didn't quite look the part of a businessman at present, but it was easy to imagine him in a suit and tie in a corporate meeting room. "Have a seat, please," he said, gesturing to the chairs. He eased himself into a large, leather chair behind his desk. "So you guys are 'Radically Chick'?"

The kids sat down, visibly uncomfortable, while Brittany's mom eased herself gracefully into a chair. She wore a professional skirt and blouse; she knew that first impressions were very important. She had guessed — correctly, it turned out — that a business suit would have been a bit too much.

"Yes, sir," Jason answered. He sounded too formal and stiff.

"How did you come up with the name?" he asked, staring pointedly at Brittany.

"It was Jason's idea," Brittany said sheepishly. "He said I was just too radical a chick for the kind of music they were playing when I met them."

"Yeah. She helped us change our sound a lot, so the name kind of stuck."

"Is this your first audition?" Mr. McNeil asked.

"Yes, sir," Brittany answered stiffly. This might be their big break, and she was extremely nervous.

Mr. McNeil laughed. "No need to be formal. I don't bite." He leaned back and interlocked his hands behind his head. "Steve says that I might want to give you guys a listen. In fact," he chuckled, "he's rather insistent about it." He watched the gulps of nervousness in the band. "How many gigs have you guys played?"

Jason spoke up. "Two. One was a wedding reception for my cousin, and then we played at the college dance last weekend."

"Steve told me about the college dance." He tried to smile in a way that would put the kids at ease, but it was having no effect. "I called the student association," he reported. The surprised glance the kids gave each other bespoke their amateur status. "Ms. Downs thought very highly of you. She said that, unlike many of their past dances, people weren't leaving early, but were dancing and enjoying themselves right up to the end."

"It was pretty crowded the whole night," Don admitted, sounding a bit nervous.

"She even said that she's recommended hiring you for another dance later this fall."

Don's, Vinny's, and Jason's eyes went wide with surprise. Nick managed to stay neutral. Conspicuously, Brittany didn't seem surprised. McNeil realized that she had probably been alerted to that possibility by Steve Fields. "I hope you brought some demo music for me to listen to."

Brittany nodded. "Yes, sir," she answered, digging in her purse and handing a thumb drive to Mr. McNeil.

They expected him to put the thumb drive into his computer. Instead, he spun his chair and inserted the USB drive into a pretty decent stereo. He pushed a few buttons, and in moments, the sound of the band reverberated through the office, surprisingly loud. He listened for a bit, and then he pressed a button to skip forward to another track. After five or six songs, he shut off the music. He turned back to the group, and saw that the kids were all on the edges of their seats, their expressions anxious.

"You guys have a pretty good sound, a very ... unique sound," Mr. McNeil said casually. "I can see why Ms. Downs wants to have you come back." He smiled. "You’ve got a sultry, yet edgy, sound that is missing in a lot of bands. It's ... interesting."

"Does that mean you like us?" Vinny asked, unable to contain his anxiety.

Mr. McNeil laughed. "Let's just say that Steve was right. I'm interested."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "Is this the point where you start to hint that you might have some openings, and then hope the band will take a weekend for a low fee and you'll maximize your profits?"

Brittany stared at her mom, her mouth agape with shock. She _knew_ her mom's businesslike approach was going to get them kicked out of the office, and ruin their chances to land a performance at Shell Game.

Instead, McNeil smiled and chuckled. "I see why they want you to be their manager. Actually, I'm willing to give you a good fee if you can open Friday night."

"Oh?" Anne was surprised at his candor. "That's pretty short notice."

He shrugged. "Let me be frank with you guys. I already checked up on you, and I have two very good recommendations. I'd like to have you play." He smiled at Anne. "Now if you had come in like a pompous stage-mom, or a pushy manager ...."

Brittany felt her heart pounding. It sounded very much like they were going to play at Shell Game. Then she saw her mom's cautious expression.

"I take it that you're in a bit of a bind and are rather anxious to have the kids play," Anne said simply.

"That's a good guess." McNeil shrugged. "I lost my opening band for Friday night, and circumstances conspired against me. The guys I have as a standby band are playing a private gig. So, yeah, I'm in a bit of a bind."

"You want the kids to play Friday night." Anne nodded. "How much?"

"Simple, to the point. I like that," McNeil chuckled. He wrote a figure on a paper and presented it to Anne.

Brittany was anxious for her mom to agree. She was ready to give anything to play at Shell Game. From the quick glance she stole at the other guys, she knew that they were, too.

"How many sets? How frequent, and how long are the breaks? Do the kids have to pay their own cover? Will they have to pay for their own refreshments? I presume you have a backstage room for them to rest between sets?"

McNeil laughed aloud. "For someone who just got drafted, you know your stuff."

"I like to do my research so I'm prepared."

"Two sets, with a fifteen minute break on the hour. They play from eight until ten, when the main band will play. I've got a small green room for them between sets — with facilities — and light refreshments are provided on the house."

Brittany's mom scribbled a few numbers on the paper and pushed it back toward McNeil. "How about this flat fee, and a percentage of the door?"

McNeil frowned. "That's a little greedy, isn't it? Especially for an opening band without a lot of paid performances?"

Anne smiled. "I did a little more checking. With your average Friday night attendance, it'll work out about the same. I know what kind of numbers your main act drew the last two times they performed here. If these kids can help pack the house, you'll get a lot more at the door. If they don't draw as well as you're hoping, you don't lose as much," she explained. "It's a win-win."

McNeil scratched his chin for a moment. "That sounds pretty good." He looked at the kids. "Do you have any advertising material? Posters, pictures?"

Brittany shook her head. "No," she admitted. "We never got that far."

McNeil smiled. "If you kids could get out and do some advertising, even on such short notice, you'll be increasing your profits. I know a printer that can do a pretty good job, quickly, and at a good price." He saw the look of confusion on the kids' faces. "If you kids help pack the house, I make money, too. It's in my interest to help you."

Half an hour later, with a contract in hand, Brittany climbed into her mom's car. As she shut the door, she turned toward her mother. "Thanks."

Anne smiled at her daughter. "What are mothers for?" Mom put the car in gear and eased out of the parking spot. Even early on a weeknight, the parking lot of Shell Game was filling quickly. "Hey, why don't you have the guys meet at the house for a few minutes?" Anne suggested. "There are a few things we should talk about."

"Like what?" Brittany was confused.

"Tips to help you guys start earning some money and getting name-recognition," Anne said with a smile.

A few minutes later, the band was gathered around the kitchen table. "Okay, Mom," Brittany started, "what's on your mind?" She could almost hear the wheels turning in her mother's mind.

"First," Anne began, "you guys need to get word out to your friends and pack that place Friday. Everyone you know. Friends, friends of friends, relatives, third-cousins' college roommate’s girlfriends — everyone."

Nick laughed. "Cousins are little far away," he said, his accent turned on full for effect. "Don't think they will come."

"Second, you need to get some advertising done, as in yesterday. You'll want posters and fliers to post around town. Schools, the malls — everywhere someone will post it." She saw the nods. "Do you know someone who could do a professional job with some pictures, in a hurry?"

Brittany started to shake her head, but then she remembered something. "At the park the other day, I overheard Anya talking with another girl about pictures for some new ad copy for the park. I can ask Anya. She might have a lead."

"Call her tonight," Anne directed. "And see if she knows a printer who can turn around the job in a few hours. Mr. McNeil suggested one, but it'd be a good idea to have other options if they’re cheaper."

"Okay."

"You guys know any nerdy types who could update your web site?" Anne continued.

"What's wrong with our web site?" Jason asked defensively.

"It doesn't have zing," Anne said simply. "You'll want to sell songs and merchandise from the site. You'll probably want a free download spot, too, so you can spotlight a song or two to generate more interest. You need to post some pictures, too." She glanced around the table. "The whole idea is to start building a fan base, so that when you do perform, you automatically attract a lot of followers. They'll buy songs, and more importantly if you want money, they'll buy merchandise. The real money, from the way I see it, is from live performances and merchandise, not from selling songs on the Internet. I'll start talking to people about getting T-shirts and such made, to see what it would cost."

"That's going to cost us a bunch," Don whistled as he contemplated what Mrs. Williams was suggesting.

Anne smiled. "With the exposure you're going to have from Shell Game, you'll more than make up for the merchandise costs." She shook her head sadly. "Too bad you don't have enough lead time, or you could sell T-shirts and CDs at the show." She sighed. "Oh, well. Next time."

Brittany was no longer hearing what her mom had to say. She was mentally picturing herself on the posters, with her in front of the band, posing in a sea of artificial fog and a dark backdrop, with multi-colored lights shining down on 'Radical Chick’. Those images alternated with visions of autographing T-shirts and CDs for fans crowded around her. She had a far-off look as she relished the visions.

**********

"It'll work a lot better this way," Brit insisted. "Just try it a couple of times."

Vinny and Don were starting to get a little testy. "It sounds fine the way it is," Don countered, barely hiding his frustration.

"Let's just try, okay?" Brittany tried to turn on the charm.

"We can try, but it's pretty late to try to add this to what we're performing Friday," Vinny groused. "We've only got a few more hours tonight and tomorrow night to practice."

"I don't think we should waste our time. If we don't change it, we're ready. If we change it like _you_ want," Don didn't hide his distaste at the fact that Brittany was pushing for the change, "then we might not be able to get it polished."

"Let's go ahead and try it," Jason spoke up. "You heard what Mr. McNeil said — we've got an edgy, sultry sound, and Brit plays it well. It might be better." He looked at Nick. "What do you think?"

Nick shrugged. "Since it doesn't change the melody, I don't care." He shot a quick smile toward Brittany, to let her know that he was backing her. Jason saw the look, and he frowned. He hoped that Brittany wasn't attracted to Nick; he hoped instead that she was interested in him.

Don sighed heavily; he didn't like feeling like he was being pushed around. "Okay, I guess we can try. But we can't waste a lot of time on it."

Jason picked up his bass and got by a microphone. "Brit, do you have the recorder on?"

Brittany pressed a button. "Yeah."

Vinny got the beat in his head, and then pounded out a four-count intro tempo on the drums. The band came alive as one. Momentarily, at least, the five kids had forgotten their squabbling and arguing, and they put their hearts into making music.

As the final notes of the song echoed and faded, Brit turned off the recorder. She shot a glance at Jason, who was grinning at her. He obviously liked the changes. She looked toward Vinny, who was scowling, and then Don, who seemed to be undecided. "Let's see how it sounds," she suggested. She didn't notice that her suggestion sounded more like a command. She pressed the 'play' button.

As soon as the song had played back, she turned toward the other guys, a look of triumph on her face. "What do you think?" she asked, her tone and expression hinting strongly that she liked the change and expected them to agree.

"I like it," Jason said with a smile.

"He would," Don whispered to Vinny. "He'll go along with anything she says."

"Yeah," Vinny agreed in a very hushed tone. "Totally whipped. I'll bet you five that Nick goes with her, too." He turned to see Brit looking at him. "I guess it's okay," he said aloud, "but I don't see what's wrong with the other way."

"It's a lot more seductive," Jason said, defending Brittany's changes. "It's sexier."

"I think it works," Nick agreed.

"I don’t see it," Don said. "I don't think it makes a difference."

Brittany's face lit up. "Okay, so it's settled. We'll do it this way, and we'll work it into the performance Friday night."

"I thought we all had a say," Vinny said caustically and softly.

Brittany overheard the comment she wasn't supposed to hear. "You guys said it was okay!" she said critically. "I'm just going with what you said."

"Don and I said we didn't see a lot of difference," Vinny rebutted sharply. "We didn't say that we liked it."

"If you don't like my suggestions," Brittany stated, her voice rising in anger, "then why don't you just say so?"

"Guys," Jason interrupted, "calm down. It's one minor change to one song! We've got a ton of other songs to perform, so let's not overreact."

"Minor change? She rewrote half the lyrics and changed the tempo!" Vinny snapped to Jason, as if Brittany wasn't present.

"Calm down, Vinny," Jason continued. "We've been working really hard this week to get everything ready for Friday. We're all tired and on edge. Let's not tear each other apart, okay?"

Vinny stared at Brittany, his eyes narrowed with anger. Slowly, he let his shoulders relax. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Don glared at Brittany, but after a moment, his expression softened and he nodded. "Okay." He sighed heavily. "I guess we _are_ kind of edgy about Friday."

Brittany smiled pleasantly. "It has been pretty hectic, hasn't it? Getting the photo shoot done, getting the posters distributed, getting everyone we know to come." She sat down on a stool. "At least we won't have to do that stuff again when we get our next gig."

"How are things on the web site?" Brittany asked Don, trying to divert the conversation.

Don smiled for the first time in over an hour. "I checked just before I came over. Over five hundred downloads of our demo songs, and at least fifty purchased songs. And one download was from Germany! It looks like word is spreading pretty quickly from our friends."

Jason winced. "That hardly pays for what we had to shell out for the web site — and the publicity pictures." He frowned. "That ate up everything we made from the college dance, and then some!"

"It's already starting to pay back," Brittany reminded him. "Mom was right — we'll make a lot on merchandise and songs. Too bad we couldn't get T-shirts done in time."

"We're lucky Anya's friend Randy would do a last-minute photo shoot for us," Jason reminded her. "And I think your mom was right about the posters — we've got probably forty or fifty extras that we can sell Friday night, and if we don't sell them there, we can try to sell them on-line."

Don bristled at the reminder of the photo shoot. In his opinion, Brittany had been a camera-hog, always trying to be front-and-center in the shots, as if she was the most important member of the band. She had really glammed herself up, even more than at the college dance. But he had to admit that the pictures — and the resulting poster — had come out great. While he thought she was becoming a bit egotistical, she seemed to be a natural in front of the camera.

"I put up posters and fliers on the east side of town," Nick reported. "Damn, I hope we get a good turn-out."

"Mom's idea to put our web address on the posters should help," Brittany purred. "They can check out our music, and then, if they like us, they'll come."

"Let's run through a couple of numbers once more," Don said. "Then I've got to get home. It's already late, and I've still got homework to do." Privately, he didn't want to be around Brittany and her arrogant attitude any longer that evening. He told himself it was because they were all tired and edgy, but he wasn't sure he believed his own excuse.

"In a sec," Brittany said. "I've got to run inside for a minute." There was no doubt as to what she meant. She strode quickly back to the house.

"I thought it sounded better," Jason said as soon as Brittany had gone. "She's got a very sexy voice."

"Yeah," Nick said, sounding like he was far away dreaming. "And she was really hot on stage at the gig."

"I bet a lot of the guys thought the same thing," Don observed. "But I think it's going to her head. She's getting pushy."

"Like how?" Jason bristled. He wanted to defend Brittany against Don's attack.

"Like changing all the music to feature herself," Vinny chimed in. "Like pushing her way to the front of all of the pictures."

"She's not getting pushy!" Jason retorted angrily. "We're all just tired."

"And you two are fawning all over her like lovesick puppies!" Don added, glaring at Nick and Jason.

"We're not ...." Nick started to rebut.

"What's next? You two dueling over her hand?" Vinny shook his head. "All you're doing is encouraging her to step on _all_ of us! But you can't see it because you're both chasing her."

Jason scowled at Don and Vinny. It was true that he really liked Brittany. In fact, it was no secret that he wanted to date her. But she wasn't interested in being more than friends — at least not with him. But with Nick? He turned his head and looked at their guitarist. Was she interested in Nick?

Jason saw Nick giving him the same suspicious stare. Slowly, the two realized that Vinny was right — they both wanted to go out with Brittany. And the rivalry was slowly heating up. But was it going to affect the band?

"Just knock it off, so we can play as a band," Don snarled. "If you two start fighting over her, it'll cause hard feelings, and then we won't have a band anymore."

"Okay," Jason said reluctantly. He had no intention of giving up on Brittany, but he could be more discrete, and not be so obvious when the band was together. He glanced at Nick.

"Da," Nick said simply.

**********

Brittany took a huge swig from a water bottle, savoring the feeling of the cool liquid on her throat as she swallowed. She purred contentedly as she sat in a fat, overstuffed chair, relaxing between sets.

"They love us," Jason said enthusiastically. "They really love us!"

"Let's go see if we can sell some more autographed posters," Vinny chimed in. "We sold over half of them during our break." He glanced around. "Where's Nick?"

Don laughed. "He went out to talk with some friends."

McNeil walked into the green room, beaming. "You guys really helped draw an early crowd tonight," he said happily.

"We've got a lot of friends," Jason replied with a chuckle.

"As long as they pay, I don't care if they're left-handed midget cannibals!" McNeil roared.

Jason grinned. "If they were cannibals, they wouldn't buy any of your concessions, and you'd lose repeat customers!"

"True," McNeil chuckled. "If you guys don't mind, I'm going to call your manager about future openings to play."

The group exchanged surprised looks, and then, as one, turned toward McNeil. "Cool!" "Yeah." "All right!"

"I'll take that as a yes, then. You guys are doing great." He turned and left the green room.

Don smiled. "Let's go make some money," he said to Vinny and Jason. The three guys walked eagerly out to the crowded club.

Brittany sighed and luxuriated in the soft, comfortable chair. She'd been on her feet, dancing and prancing around the stage as they performed for their two sets, and she wanted nothing more than to rest for a bit. The college dance had been an education in how physically demanding it could be to perform, and this was a reminder. If anything, with the two new numbers they were doing, and her slightly more radical look, Brittany was strutting about the stage even more, which meant that she was even more fatigued.

"Excuse me," a male voice interrupted Brittany's temporary reverie. She turned her head toward the door.

The man standing in the door was a little younger than Mr. McNeil, but unlike Mr. McNeil, the man was dressed more casually, like a man out for a good time at a night club. "You're with the band, 'Radically Chick'?" the man asked, certain of the answer.

Brittany nodded. "Yeah," she answered warily. She didn't know who this man was, or what his intentions were.

The man stepped to her chair and extended his hand. "Chris Jackson. I'm with a recording studio." He mentioned the name, and Brittany's eyes widened. The company wasn’t huge, by any stretch, but they were well known.

Brittany shook his hand, her heart fluttering at the implications of a record producer wanting to talk to her. This was like every dream come true — "Pleased," Brit answered as she shook his hand. "What can I do for you?"

Mr. Jackson handed Brittany his business card. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward a chair adjacent to hers.

"Sure," she said with a shrug.

"Do you mind if I ask, who writes your lyrics?" he asked as he sat down.

"Mostly Jason and I," Brit replied. "Why?"

"Let's cut to the chase. I got a recommendation from Steve Fields to come and listen to you guys. I like what I hear. You have a good sound, and your lyrics are good, too." He paused a moment, thinking of how to say what he needed to say. "How tight is your band? Have you guys been playing together long? Are you guys friends?"

Brittany was confused. "We've been friends for years. Why?"

Mr. Jackson thought a moment. "I'd like to get you in the studio for an audition with a couple of my senior producers," he said carefully.

Brit was stunned. "Audition? Wow! Wait till I tell the guys!" she squealed with delight.

Mr. Jackson flinched. "Not the guys. Just you. I want to get _you_ in for an audition."

"But ... we're a band!" Brit protested. "We've been together for a long time." Already, though, in the back of her mind, she was wondering if the guys would stand in her way if she auditioned solo.

"Let's be honest," Mr. Jackson said bluntly. "Backup bands are a dime a dozen. But someone with your songwriting and singing talent — that's rare. You've got a rare combination of sultry sex appeal and hard-edge rock-n-roll that can go a long ways in the business."

Brit's head was spinning. This was almost unbelievable. A record producer was interested in the band. No, she corrected herself, he was interested in her. And that could be the start of a music career, a huge break into a world of fame and glamour. "But ... we're a band! We've been together for over three years. I can't break up the band!"

"This could be a huge break for you," he said, a siren song to lure Brit to an audition. "If you won't come in solo, though, I suppose I _might_ be able to get management interested in auditioning the whole band." His tone suggested that he wasn't even going to try that avenue. It was her, solo, or nothing.

"I don't know ...." Brittany said, hesitating. "I mean, they're my friends!"

Mr. Jackson stood abruptly and shook her hand once more. "Think about it. Seriously."

As he departed, Brit stood, semi-dazed. She could audition — solo - maybe land a recording contract. But it would probably mean turning her back on her friends. Could she do that? The disturbing thing was that she was even considering it.

**********

It felt weird, in a way, to not feel breasts tugging at his chest as he lay on his bed, trying to eke out the last few seconds of rest before starting another hectic school day. Brandon mused at that curious thought, and the fact that after two weeks of being Brittany, wearing only his boxer shorts in bed seemed very unusual. The feel of a lacy nighty had come to be normal. In fact, it had only been yesterday, Monday, when he'd been a girl. He winced at the thought of feminine sleepwear being normal. Changing back and forth from Brittany to Brandon and vice-versa was getting confusing. Still, he couldn't help but smile at the memories from school. Brittany was a bit of a celebrity for having performed at Shell Game, and she reveled in the congratulations and accolades from those who'd been there, including from a lot of people she didn't know first-hand. While her friends — Gwen, Wendy, and Erica — had seemed a little cool toward her, guys were paying almost as much attention to her as they normally did to the cheerleaders, if not a bit more. That, of course, made the cheerleaders quite angry, and they showed their dislike for Brittany in their catty attitudes and snide comments. Despite that, Brittany left school feeling like a star. It felt good — not like the way things were now.

Last night, during practice, Vinny and Don had been a bit hostile. Vinny had accused Brittany of wanting to change all the songs to feature herself, at the expense of showcasing the others in the band. The evening hadn't ended well; they hadn't settled a couple of disputes about some revised lyrics that Brittany had suggested.

"Brandon! Get a move on!" his mom's voice echoed once more.

It must have been one of her calls that had initially awakened him. Brandon let out a heavy sigh, and levered himself up to a sitting position. He glanced at his alarm clock, and saw that it was almost half an hour later than he'd awakened during the past two weeks. A faint smile crept across his features — it took less time for a boy to get ready for school than a girl, and those few extra minutes of snoozing were precious.

One of the first things he did, after he got out of bed, was to check his phone for messages. He frowned when he couldn't find what he was looking for. Another check on his computer added to Brandon's apparent frustration. He sighed, and then began his morning routine.

Less than forty minutes later, having quickly showered, shaved, dressed, and wolfed down a quick breakfast, he pulled his car into the parking lot at school. He was a few minutes early -the assistant principal was notorious for being harsh with tardy students.

"Hey, Brandon," Don called as Brandon walked into the building.

"What's up?" Brandon noted that Vinny and Jason were with him.

Don sighed heavily. "I'm tired," he said.

"We had a long weekend," Brandon said cautiously. "Rehearsal yesterday, work on new songs."

"It's not that," Don rebutted. "I'm tired of working our asses off, and getting no notice. We haven't found anyone to replace Tonya, either." He shook his head sadly. "I was hoping that the booking agent you talked to ...."

"Gave demos to," Brandon corrected. "I didn't get a chance to meet with him."

"... gave demos to, would get us at least an audition with _someone_."

"It's getting pretty old, dude," Vinny added his opinion.

Brandon knew what they were talking about. He'd taken a moment to check his computer before rushing to school. There was nothing. "I'll try to call again this afternoon, after school," he said, trying to get the guys in a better mood. He'd never seen the guys this down before.

"What do you want to do after school?" Jason asked. "Hang out at the arcade at Shell Game?"

Brandon's mind was racing as he thought. He could be Brandon, a nobody, or he could be Brittany. Yes, he'd be a girl, but he'd done okay for the past two weeks, and he'd be part of a successful, noted band. Was it worth it? As Brandon, there was very little hope of being a noted rock-n-roll singer. But as Brittany, that was a different story. Mr. Jackson from the record company had complimented her ability, and really wanted her to audition. Brandon heard the bell ring, signifying that students needed to walk to their first classes of the day. He spent the entire day locked in a fierce mental debate with himself, weighing the pros and cons of being Brittany.

By the end of the day, Brandon still hadn't come to a conclusion. He bumped into Vinny outside the building. Vinny's car was in the shop for a new water pump, so Vinny was bumming rides. "Can I get a ride?" he asked Brandon, not unexpectedly.

"Sure," Brandon answered, still distracted. "What do you want to do? Go work on some music?"

Vinny shook his head. "No. Don's right. Maybe we should take a break for a while. You know — get a life?"

Vinny’s negative comment helped Brandon make up his mind. "I've got to run by the bank," he announced, "and then I'm going to a water park to have some fun. Bikini Beach. Ever heard of it?"

Vinny nodded. "Yeah. That's the one you went to trying to find someone to replace Tonya. It's supposed to be one hell of a park," he added with a grin.

Brandon told himself that he was going to change for the sake of the band. His internal mental argument didn't sound convincing. "Tell you what — let me swing by the bank, and then we'll go," he replied. There was determination in his voice that seemed a little out of place.

"Maybe tomorrow," Vinny said reluctantly. "I need to spend time studying for the history test we have coming up. I'm way behind."

Forty minutes later, after stops to drop off Vinny and at the bank, Brandon parked his car in the parking lot at Bikini Beach. Brandon grabbed his swimsuit from the trunk; like many people who lived near the shore, he kept swim trunks and a towel in his car, just in case. He couldn't help but grin, knowing what was going to happen.

"May I help you, Brandon?" the girl Anya asked as he stepped to the window.

"Aren't you going to tell me what I'm about to do?" he asked, trying to sound jovial instead of sarcastic.

Anya smiled, but there was a warning glint in her eyes. "I could, but I figured you were going to tell me, and then we'd discuss it."

"Let's just cut to the chase, then," Brandon was serious. "I want a lifetime membership."

"You know what that means?" Anya asked, dead-serious.

Brandon nodded. "I've been arguing with myself all day. I know what I'm doing."

Anya shook her head sadly. "No, you don't," she replied with an unsettling certainty. "Once you buy a lifetime membership, there's no going back. It's permanent and irrevocable."

"But I'll be successful as a musician, right?"

"Your band _might_ be successful," Anya retorted. "You guys are a team, remember?"

"Yeah," Brandon answered automatically, but his tone betrayed that his heart wasn't in his response.

"You're just thinking of yourself right now," Anya cautioned. "You're thinking about _your_ success, and how the producer was interested in _your_ talent, not the whole band's."

"I'm the band's lead singer," Brandon answered curtly. "If I get noticed, the whole band gets noticed."

"I thought you were _one_ of the lead singers," Anya countered. She saw, from the look on Brandon's face, that he wasn't listening to the meaning of her words. "Just changing to being a girl isn't going to make your life suddenly better," Anya challenged him. "Everything isn't automatically better for Brittany."

"And it's not better to be in a successful band?" Brandon argued. "I want a lifetime pass. And if you won't sell me a lifetime pass, I'll get it one week at a time if I have to."

"Brandon, nothing good happens when someone makes a rash decision like this," Anya cautioned him. It was obvious that she really didn't want to sell him a lifetime pass.

"This isn't a rash decision," Brandon protested, sounding a little like a kid having a fit. "I've been thinking about nothing but a pass for past couple of days!"

"What about your girlfriend, Wendy? And there are a lot of things about being a girl that you haven't thought of. Having a period. Sex. The way girls act, which can be surprisingly nasty. Clothes. Boys." She shook her head. "Your relationships with your family and current friends will be permanently altered. Some people will no longer be your friends."

The buzz of the intercom interrupted her. She pressed the button. "Grandmother?" she asked into the intercom.

"Sell him a one month pass," the old woman's voice came through the speaker. She sounded weary. Anya knew that she'd been spending a lot of time and energy examining Brandon's alternate life using her magical 'sight'.

"But Grandmother," Anya started to protest.

"Sell him the pass. He's got some lessons to learn, and a month should be enough to give Brandon a little better perspective." Her voice softened a bit. "Even if he were eighteen, I won't sell him a lifetime pass on a whim — at least, not until he's had a little more time to consider the pros and cons. I've looked - nothing bad is going to happen in the short-term. He'll just get a few important life lessons."

Anya let off the button. She saw the smug expression on Brandon's face. "Okay." She wrote a figure on a piece of paper and showed him. She knew that Grandmother was right; she didn't like to sell long-term passes without good cause.

Without batting an eye at the cost, Brandon took money from his wallet and paid. It had put a sizeable dent in his savings account, but he knew it was going to be worth it.

After changing into a swimsuit, and changing — for a month — into Brittany, she strode into the park, wearing her sunglasses and strutting like she was important. In a way, Brittany was excited, certain that now, with a little magical help from Bikini Beach, her musical career would be successful.

"Hey," a girl stopped on the path, staring at her. "Aren't you with the band from the dance two weeks ago?"

Brit smiled and lifted her head a tiny bit, feeling proud of having been recognized. "Yeah," she answered. "I'm the lead vocalist of 'Radically Chick'."

"I thought so!" the girl squealed with delight. "You guys were really good! I hope they’ll have you guys come back."

"We just did the opening at Shell Game on Friday. Maybe they'll start having us back there more often."

The girl lit up. "That would be awesome."

Brit smiled at the recognition. "We've got a few of our songs on our website, too. We're just getting that part set up, so we don't have everything there yet."

"Cool!" A few girls began to congregate. Brittany guessed that three or four were college-age, and the rest were younger.

"Just Google the band's name, and you'll find our site."

"Are the guys ...?" a girl started to ask very hesitantly. She blushed when other girls giggled, guessing what she was stammering to ask.

Brittany laughed. "They're available, if that's what you're asking."

"Get in line, girl!" another girl said brashly. "You can take whoever I don't want. I claim dibs on the guitarist with the accent."

Brittany found the exchange humorous. They were already becoming celebrities, at least locally, and that was attracting fans. She glanced around, and saw her best friend Wendy, with Gwen and Erica. "Hey, Wendy!" she called out.

Wendy and the girls turned her head at the sound of Brittany's voice. "Oh," she said when she recognized Brittany. "Hi, Brit." She resumed walking. Gwen and Erica didn't even say a word, but walked with Wendy.

Brittany quickly excused herself from the crowd and trotted to Wendy's side. "What's up?" she asked, trying to strike up a conversation. She was confused at how cool the girls had been toward her.

"Not a lot," Wendy answered. "Certainly not as much as with you."

"Yeah, we've been busy," Brit answered proudly. "It was fun to play at Shell Game."

"We wouldn't know," Gwen said coldly.

"How about if we go lounge around the Tropical Lagoon?" Brit suggested, ignoring Wendy's icy attitude. "That's always fun."

"I'd hate to take you away from your fans," Erica snorted. She turned and walked away, leaving Brittany standing, puzzled by the girls' attitudes.

**********

As she walked out of the school building, Brittany frowned. She was still getting a little attention, but over the past week, the rest of the band had slowly gotten less warm and friendly toward her. Brittany wondered why at first, puzzled by the attitudes of the guys and her best friend, but slowly, she realized that they were jealous of her. She was the most recognizable of the band, and was getting the most attention.

Some of the girls were getting a little catty, like Felicia Ormand and her little group — Frankie, Tina, Denise, and Angela. They had started with warm congratulations for the band, but as time went on, Brit figured, they'd become more and more envious that her band was getting noticed. And her friends Erica, Gwen, and Wendy were giving her the cold shoulder it seemed.

She wondered what was up with the girls, when she saw Erica in front of her. She hurried to catch up. "Hey, Erica," Brittany called, trying to be cheerful. "What's up?"

Erica turned to see who called her. She stiffened visibly when she recognized Brittany. "Hi," she said brusquely.

"What are you doing? I'm going to Bikini Beach for a bit. Do you want to come?"

"I'm not sure," Erica said, frowning. "I might get in the way of your adoring fans."

Brittany scowled at Erica's snide comment. "What's gotten into you?" she demanded. "I'm the same I've always been!"

Erica shook her head. "No, you're not. You're acting like you're better than the rest of us."

Brittany's jaw dropped at Erica's comment, and then her features clouded with anger. "You're just jealous because I'm going places with my singing, and you aren't going anywhere with yours!"

"Why, you bitch!" Erica practically screamed, before she turned and stomped away, her eyes burning with fury. Despite Brittany's opinion to the contrary, Erica was a very talented singer, who was in choir and had sung lead in several musical productions by the drama club.

Brittany stared after her, startled by Erica's anger. Her friend _was_ jealous of her imminent success and recognition. Sighing heavily, she turned and started walking back toward her car.

Vinny's car was still out of action, so he was hanging around, looking for a ride so he wouldn't have to ride the bus. Brit thought of how he'd been acting, and a sudden thought entered her mind. She turned toward Vinny. "Hey, Vinny," she called sweetly.

"What's up?" Vinny asked. He didn't sound thrilled to see Brit.

"Thought you might like a ride home," Brit suggested.

"You don't live over my way," Vinny replied, suspicious of Brittany's motives.

"I'm going to Bikini Beach again, which is over your way, so I can give you a lift," Brit replied cheerfully. "I want to get in a little sun before dinner. And then we'll have practice, so I want to just relax a bit."

Vinny stiffened visibly when Brit mentioned practice. "I don't know if I can make it tonight," he said hesitantly. "I've ... got a lot of math homework." His lie was transparent.

Brittany was starting to get an idea. "Why don't you come with me? It's a great place to hang out."

Vinny looked skeptical. "I don't know ...."

"It's mostly girls," Brit added. "A lot of high-school and college girls. You don't have to just hang out with me." She smiled inwardly as she saw the reluctance and doubt melting from his expression.

"I probably should work on my homework," Vinny said.

Brit could tell from the way he spoke that Vinny was almost hooked. Before she could speak, her cell phone beeped. "Just a sec." She pulled out her phone. "Yes!" she screamed excitedly. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Vinny was curious about her sudden outburst. "What's up?"

"That's from Mom. She got a call from Mr. McNeil at Shell Game. They want us to play again next weekend! A two-day contract! As the main attraction!"

Vinny's eyes widened. "That's kind of sudden."

"Do you want to turn it down?" Brit asked.

"No way!" Vinny replied quickly. His eyes were alight with glee at the prospect of playing at Shell Game again, this time as the main band.

"So we'll go to Bikini Beach to celebrate," she said. "My treat."

Vinny thought for another couple of seconds. "I guess," he finally agreed. "Yeah."

"We'll stop by your house to get your swim suit," Brit said with a smile as they both turned toward the parking lot.

**********

"May I help you?" the girl at the window asked of Brittany.

Brit smiled. "I want to get a guest pass for my friend," she said sweetly.

"Just for today?" the girl asked.

Brit thought for a moment. She knew that if one girl in the band was good, two would be better, and since they had a gig in a week and a half, Vinny needed to stay a girl for more than a day or two. "Two weeks."

The girl frowned. "Just a sec. For that long, I'll have to talk to Anya or Grandmother."

Brit concealed her frown. She didn't want Anya involved in this change, but it didn't look like she was going to get out of it. In moments, Anya entered the ticket booth. She looked at Brittany warily. "You want a guess pass for your friend?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah."

"You figure that if one girl in the band is good, two would be better, right?" Brittany nodded. "And you're thinking that Vinny will be a little more reasonable if he has a chance to be a girl for a bit, right?"

"Yeah. That's about it."

Anya closed her eyes for a moment. "This isn't going to solve any of your problems," she said solemnly.

"But you're going to, aren't you?" Brit asked hopefully.

Anya nodded. "Grandmother thinks it's part of the lessons you need to learn."

"He'll still be our drummer, right?"

Anya nodded. "Yes." She took Brittany's money and printed the pass for Vinny. "This is likely to backfire on you. You can't just magically wish all your problems away."

Brittany frowned. "I know this will work," she answered. She paid for Vinny's pass and took it over to Vinny at the entrance gate. "Here," she said, handing him the pass. "The only pass they had available was a two-week pass. They gave me a hell of a deal."

"Cool," Vinny said with a grin as he took the pass, still totally unsuspecting.

Brittany gave Vinny directions. "Just go in the locker room and change. Remember, you have to shower," she added. "It's a health department rule, and they're very picky about it."

Vinny shrugged. "Okay." He walked into the locker room, with a little bit more of a smile on his face, and a little more spring in his step as he neared the door. Even if Brit was being a bitch, she was paying for his pass to the water park, and he'd seen a lot of girls either entering or already in the park. He wondered if any of the girls would remember him from either the college dance or Shell Game; if so, that might help him find an interested girl for the weekend.

As she changed, Brittany smiled to herself. Having been through the magical change a few times already, she knew what was happening. Vinny would find the shower surprisingly warm and soothing. As he relaxed, he'd start to find a few things that seemed odd, or out of place, like longer hair on his shoulders, or extra weight on his chest. He might notice that he had to reach higher to turn off the shower, and he might see his hands and arms.

Brittany was surprised to find that she was getting turned on thinking about what Vinny was going through. She was imagining the look of surprise, and then shock, when he rounded the corner and saw himself in the mirror. She wondered how long he'd be confused, looking at the image, before he realized that it was himself.

She hurried through her shower and practically ran across the entrance plaza toward the other locker room. She arrived just in time to hear a girl scream inside. Smiling to herself, she pulled open the door.

As she'd expected, a girl was standing, semi-nude, gawking at the doorway. She'd been staring in disbelief at the mirror, which showed Vinny the change. The girl screamed again, and held one arm across her breasts, while the other hand blocked the crotch of her swim suit.

"It's okay, Vanessa," Brittany said, trying to sound reassuring. "You're okay."

"Brittany?" the girl's voice squeaked. It didn't sound like Vinny — it was somewhere between his male voice and a normal female voice. "What's ... wrong?" He sounded like he was starting to panic. "And who's Vanessa?"

Brittany couldn't help but stare at the cute girl standing, frightened, in front of her. Her hair was short, and probably a very sassy style, but it was difficult to tell for sure since it was wet. She looked like Vinny's sister, but a bit cuter. She had a dynamite figure, which made Brittany feel momentarily jealous.

"How ...?" the girl stammered, still staring doe-eyed at Brittany.

"The park is magic," Brittany answered pleasantly, with a knowing smile. "It turned you into a girl, because the park is only for women and girls."

"That's ... that's impossible!" the girl who had been Vinny complained.

"What's your name?" Brit asked simply.

"My name? I'm Vanessa," Vinny replied. "That's not right! I'm not Vanessa, I'm Vanessa! Vanessa!" he tried again, much more slowly and deliberately, but with no more success. The new girl looked like she was going to cry.

"Everything is going to be okay," Brit reassured Vanessa.

"But ... I'm a girl! I'm not supposed to be a girl," she cried, almost in tears. "What are my parents going to think? Or Jason or Don or Nick?"

"That you've always been a girl. And I bet the guys think you're cute!" she added with a giggle.

The door opened, and Anya came in. She saw Vanessa cringe, still covering her naked breasts with her arm and cowering in fear. "Vanessa, what Brittany told you is true. This park is magic. It's a sanctuary for women, a place where girls can come and relax without being treated as sex objects."

"Change me back!" Vanessa demanded, her voice a mixture of fright and anger.

Anya waved her fingers and chanted in a foreign-sounding language. Immediately, some of the fear and panic left Vanessa's eyes. The frightened girl sat slowly on a bench. "Now, you'll need this," she said, producing a bikini top from seemingly nowhere. She turned to Brittany. "Since you brought her here, you need to explain things, and take care of her."

"Why?" Vanessa cried after she put on her top, an action which surprised her by how automatically she'd done it.

"Because if one girl in the band is good, two will be better." Brittany sat down beside Vanessa.

"What do you mean? What does the band have to do with this?"

"Having girls in the band gives us a better sound, and it gets more guys listening to our music. I wanted us to have a little more sex appeal, a little sultrier, sexier edge to our sound." Brit smiled triumphantly.

"So — you just decided to make me change? Without asking?" She looked like she was nearly in tears. "How ... how long ... am I stuck like this?" Vanessa stammered.

"For the next two weeks," Brittany said.

Vanessa started to sob. "Two weeks? You made me be a girl for two whole weeks?"

"You can see how you like it, but I think you'll love the attention you'll get as a girl." She stood up and extended her hand to Vanessa. "Now let's go relax, like you wanted to do. This place is a blast!"

**********

Despite Brit's cheery disposition and attitude, Vanessa had been unhappy, even angry and hateful, during their time at the park. After they'd showered and changed, Brittany had been startled to find Vanessa dressed rather rebelliously, with a very short, daring skirt, and a low-cut blouse to show off her cleavage that was pretty obviously enhanced by a push-up bra.

"I like the outfit," Brittany commented as Vanessa came out of the small locker room. "And the makeup."

Vanessa glared at Brittany. "Bite me."

"You didn't have to put on makeup," Brit tried to soothe the new girl.

"I ... just did, without thinking," Vanessa snarled. "Do you think I _want_ to put on makeup and ... flashy clothes?"

"Do you want to go get a bite to eat? Maybe at Burger Barn?"

"No! I just want to go home!"

When Brit dropped Vanessa off at her home, Vanessa had been terrified to go inside, not knowing what to expect. Surprisingly, Vanessa's mom came out to meet her. She greeted Vanessa like she'd always had a daughter, which surprised Vanessa, but not Brittany.

"See you about eight for practice?" Brittany asked cheerfully.

"I'm not sure ...," Vanessa said uneasily.

"We need to practice, Vanessa," Brittany countered. "We've got the gig at Shell Game in a week and a half, remember?"

Vanessa's mom perked up at Brit's words. "You've got another performance lined up?" Her eyes narrowed and she gazed at Vanessa. "When were you planning to tell me?"

Brit knew that Vanessa was about to get in trouble, and she had to intervene. "Mrs. Rascone," she interrupted, "I just got a text from the manager while we were on our way to Bikini Beach. Vanessa and I just found out after school, so she didn't have a chance to tell you yet."

"Oh," Mrs. Rascone said, her expression easing considerably. "I guess you better go to practice tonight, so you guys will be at your best to perform." She sounded a little proud of Vanessa getting a paid performance again.

"See you later, Vanessa," Brit said.

"Yeah. Later." Vanessa's glare at Brittany spoke volumes of her anger for being tricked into the change.

A few minutes later, Brittany bounded into her house. "Hey, Mom," she called.

"In here," her mom replied from the kitchen.

Brittany strode happily into the kitchen. "You really got a message from Mr. McNeil?" she blurted.

"Mister McNeil wants you kids to perform again, as the headline band," Mom answered with a smile. "So, do you kids want to take the gig?"

Brit nodded. "I can't speak for the guys, but Vanessa knows and is good with the idea."

"Speaking of which, did you and Vanessa enjoy the water park today?"

"I had a great time, as usual," Brit said enthusiastically. "But I think something's bothering Vanessa, because she was a little down." Brit carefully omitted that Vanessa was pissed because Brittany had tricked her into a two-week membership at the park, and Vinny was now stuck as Vanessa for those two weeks.

"She didn't get dumped by ... who is her latest boyfriend, by the way?" Mom shook her head. "Sometimes, that girl seems to focus entirely too much on boys. I swear, she only joined the band because she's got the hots for Don!"

"Mother!" Brittany exclaimed, surprised at what her mother was saying.

"Well, it's true. And it seems like she's caught Nick's eye, too, which is okay with your father and I. Having one boy chasing you is more than enough trouble." She began to get some vegetables from the crisper. "Parents notice these things, dear. Do me a favor and get the cutting board and your father's favorite knife ready. He's grilling steaks tonight, so you know what that means?"

Brittany sighed. Her father loved to cook, and was a decent master of his grill. But he was somewhat of a perfectionist, and he expected everything to be in order before he commenced. "Yeah. We work extra hard for our dinner tonight."

Mom just chuckled at Brit's dry humor. "And I think you only got Jason in the band because he's interested in you."

"Well, I'm not interested in him, romantically, I mean!" Brit countered angrily.

"Methinks thou doth protest too much," Mom laughed. She changed the subject, realizing that she was getting into sensitive territory with Brit. "Once you guys confirm the gig for next weekend, we can see about getting more posters done. And I'm going to talk to Mister McNeil to see if you guys can use some of your live recordings from Shell Game. You could sell them on your website."

"That'll work."

"And you guys need to pick out a picture for T-shirts. I've got a bid from a company that can turn around T-shirts in three days — in plenty of time for the performance."

"Cool. If Mister McNeil will let us sell them."

"I don't see why not. You guys were pretty well received last weekend, and I'm sure he'll be amenable to a deal." She started arranging vegetables on the counter; some would be cooked on the grill, while others, her husband would cut up into a nice salad. "Oh, and you had a call from a Mister Jackson. He said he talked to you backstage last weekend at Shell Game?" Mom had engaged suspicious mother mode.

"Oh, yeah." Brit paused to put the utensils on the counter. "He's a producer that gave me his card when we were playing at Shell Game."

"Oh? Is there something I should know?"

Brittany shrugged. "I don't think so. He just gave me his card." She didn't need to get additional grief from her mother about possibly auditioning. Word would get to the guys, and things would get worse with the band.

**********

Vanessa arrived first, dropped off by her mother. She stomped into the garage and glowered at Brittany. "I hate you!" she muttered when she saw that the two were alone.

"Why?" Brittany asked, puzzled by Vanessa's hostility.

"You tricked me. And now I'm stuck like ...," she looked down and swept her hands downward, gesturing toward her body, "like this." She glared at her erstwhile friend. "And that's not the worst of it!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Do you know what I found when I went to the bathroom?" Vanessa snapped. "I'm having my fucking period!"

Brittany's eyes went wide. She gulped — she hadn't yet experienced _that_ aspect of changing into a girl herself. Suddenly, she wondered if she'd been too impulsive. "Um, you'll be okay," she tried to reassure her friend.

"Yeah, when I change back!" Vanessa snarled. "I hate this!" She slumped into a large stuffed chair that sat in one corner of the garage. "Why the hell did you do this to me?"

Brittany sat on a barstool which was often her perch on their improvised stage. "You were getting so down on me, and I thought it was because you wanted more attention." She looked at Vanessa, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I figured that you'd like the attention you'll get as a girl in a rock band."

Vanessa snorted derisively. "Why didn't you ask what was going on first?"

Brit automatically started to reply, but she stopped, her mouth partially open. "Uh," she stammered after an awkward couple of seconds, "You guys weren't exactly talking to me."

"We're friends," Vanessa answered. "We _were_ friends, before you started getting all bossy about the band, and trying to hog the spotlight, and then doing _this_ to me!"

Brit realized just how far over the line she'd gone with Vanessa. She might have lost a friend. Then again, she thought, the guys were already acting upset. "I'm sorry," Brit apologized, but her heart wasn't really in the apology. She reminded herself that the guys were being unpleasant toward her, and she hadn't done anything wrong. At least, not until she'd tricked Vinny.

Before the two could talk more, Jason and Don arrived. As soon as Don walked in, Brit knew that what her mom had speculated about Don was true. "Hi, Vanessa," he said cheerfully. "Hey, Brit," he added, without nearly as much enthusiasm. "Nick's right behind us."

"Before we start playing, Mom said we need to pick out a picture for the T-shirts," Brittany said.

"Just pick out the one you like," Don said sarcastically. "That's the one we'll end up with anyway."

Brit frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, annoyed.

"Just that you're changing our sound and hogging the spotlight," Don retorted angrily.

"Mr. Fields likes our sound!" Brittany countered sharply. "Or don't you want to get noticed and get paying gigs?"

"We're supposed to be a team," Vanessa interjected. "Not Brittany and her backup band!"

"Look, Mr. Fields and Mr. McNeil both said they thought our sound was unique. I just want us to succeed," Brittany pleaded. "What's wrong with that?"

Jason snorted. "Nothing — if we work as a team." It was the first time that Jason hadn't taken Brittany's side in the more frequent squabbles.

"Fine. You guys pick the image for the T-shirts." Brittany sat down angrily in the fat stuffed chair. "I don't care."

"Fine. Just sit there and pout because the guys don't like you getting pushy!" Vanessa snapped.

Brittany's face turned red. "Yeah? Without me singing lead, you guys would be just another band practicing in a garage without any gigs!"

"Yeah? You think that _you're_ the reason we're getting recognized?" Don snapped angrily.

"Mr. Fields and Mr. McNeil _both_ said that my singing gives us a sexy, sultry edge that other bands don't have!" Brittany pulled herself out of the chair and stomped toward the door. "I don't feel like practicing tonight!" she yelled as she stormed out of the garage, slamming the door shut behind herself.

"Yeah? Well maybe we don't want to play with a self-centered, arrogant bitch, either!" Vanessa screamed after her, knowing Brit probably couldn't hear it.

Jason sighed heavily. They had a gig lined up at Shell Game, as the principal band, in less than two weeks, and all they'd accomplished was to piss each other off. "I'll go talk to her," he said after a long silence.

"Good luck," Don snorted angrily. "You _know_ we're right — she's gotten pretty full of herself!"

"So what do we do? Give up?" Jason walked toward the door, leaving his angry and frustrated friends behind.

**********

Inside her room, Brittany flopped back on her bed, feeling like screaming. The guys were being impossible! The changes she had suggested were only to help the band sound better, and then they'd have more fans, and get more recognition, and ultimately succeed! Why wouldn't they see that?

They wanted to hold her back, she realized. They didn't like the fact that _she_ was on the receiving end of more attention from fans than they were. They were jealous.

Brittany rolled over and fumbled through her purse. In mere moments, she found what she was looking for, and she extracted the business card. Rising, she walked to her desk and sat down, reaching for the keyboard of her computer. She opened a program and typed in a message, then hit the 'send' button, and sent the e-mail along its way. She sat back down on her bed.

For a moment, Brittany thought about whether she was being unfair to the band. But those thoughts only lasted a few seconds; memories of the unpleasantness with the band and with her so-called friends pushed them aside. She _knew_ she was doing the right thing.

**********

Sitting in the lobby of the office, Brittany felt out of place. It was decorated in a rather contemporary style, but most striking were the framed and autographed pictures of singers and bands adorning the walls. While she was waiting, Brittany stood and began to look at the pictures. She recognized several bands, and a few solo artists. The artists spanned a wide range of styles — pop, hip-hop, alternative rock, and rock were the genres that Brittany recognized singers associated with. She suspected that the studio's clients included country, folk, religious, and even bluegrass musicians. It was a very well-known label, so it had to have helped lots of bands and singers get their big breaks.

Brittany was feeling nervous again. Early in the morning after she'd sent him an e-mail, she'd gotten a text from the producer, who was very eager to get Brittany in for an audition. During a break between classes, she'd called, and had set up an appointment the following day after school. The guys were still being pissy, so they didn't practice, which was fine with Brittany. If they'd have gotten together, she was sure they would have guessed that she was up to something. She didn't want to deal with their attitudes.

She tried to force herself to sit back and relax in the wing chair in which she sat, but she found herself repeatedly, nervously, sitting forward in the chair, anxious and tense.

When a door to an inner office opened without warning, Brittany practically jumped out of her skin. She gazed anxiously to the door, uncertain as to who was coming out, and whether it was for her, or if she had to wait some more.

It was with a mixture of relief and heightened nervousness that Brittany recognized Mr. Jackson. She rose from the chair as he stepped toward her, a warm smile on his face. She absently smoothed her skirt, and then reached out to take his extended hand.

"Ms. Williams," Jackson began, "it's so nice that you could come by to see us."

"Um," Brittany answered weakly, "I'm glad you wanted to meet with me."

"My pleasure," Jackson said smoothly. "Are you nervous?"

Brittany nodded a tiny nod.

"Don't be."

"That's asking a lot," Brittany squeaked. "You're not the one who's never interviewed or auditioned before."

Mr. Jackson laughed lightly. "I'm assuming that you interviewed with Mr. McNeil at Shell Game? So this isn't really your first interview or audition."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Would you like to talk in my office, or would you be more comfortable if we went straight to a studio, and then talked after?"

"I guess I'd like to get the singing over with," Brittany answered. "I've performed on stage for several years, so I'm not as nervous when I'm singing."

As they walked, Mr. Jackson continued the conversation. "Tell me about your musical training and experience."

Brittany thought for a second. Though her Brittany memories were slightly different than her fading Brandon memories, there were a lot of similarities. "I guess I started with piano lessons, and then I decided to play guitar."

"Are you good on the keyboard?"

Brittany laughed. "Not really. I can play some simple things, but I'm not nearly as good as Don."

"You seem to be pretty comfortable with the guitar."

Brittany laughed. "I've had a lot of lessons, and then practicing with the band. I guess Ritchie Blackmore and Eric Clapton are my inspiration."

"You couldn't have picked much better role models to emulate," Mr. Jackson said, his voice conveying his admiration for the fact that she'd selected very talented guitar artists to strive to equal.

"I personally prefer it when Ritchie gets out his Stratocaster," Brittany confessed. "I mean, he's really good with his acoustic guitar, but I prefer the sound of a good electric guitar," she added quickly as an explanation.

"How much have you performed, singing, I mean?"

"Mom had me start singing in choir when I was in seventh grade, and when I was in eighth grade, I was in my first musical. I sang in four musicals in high school drama."

"Did you stay in choir in high school?"

"Only through my sophomore year," Brittany replied. "That's when we started getting really serious about the band."

"Have you had voice lessons?"

"Yeah. Mom and Dad got me some voice coaching for a birthday present two years ago."

"What's your favorite style to sing?"

Brittany wondered if this was a leading question. "I like good rock-n-roll, and some alternative music. I'm not into punk or heavy metal, and I really don't like hip-hop or country."

"Who are your favorite singers?"

Brittany was getting quite at ease with Mr. Jackson as they walked through the corridors toward the recording studio. "Mostly female vocalists, I guess. I really like Pat Benatar. She's got a really good sound, and a variety of song styles, even if they are oldies. I've listened to Madonna, Joan Jett, Lady Gaga, Cyndi Lauper, Amy Winehouse - I guess I listen to most good rock singers."

The two turned a corner, and Mr. Jackson opened a door into a sound studio. To Brittany's surprise, a band was sitting in the room. He saw her pause. "This is our studio band. They do backup for most of our auditions, and some of our solo artists."

"What do you want me to sing?" Brittany asked, a little confused. She wasn't familiar with the band, nor were they with her music.

Mr. Jackson smiled. "I got the demo songs from Steve Fields. The band has practiced a couple of your songs from those demos. It won't be recording quality, but it should be more than enough for an audition."

Brittany was impressed at how thorough the company was being for her audition. "Okay."

"I'm going in the sound booth so we can record the audition. I want to be able to play your audition to other producers."

Though she started out nervous, Brittany became more relaxed as she sang. In her mind, the band wasn't as good as the guys, but then again, they hadn't had long to practice. After a couple of runs through each of the two songs, she was feeling pretty happy.

"Good," Mr. Jackson complimented her with a smile from the sound engineer's booth. "I see why Steve was impressed. On the music stand, you'll find two songs. I'd like you to sing them now."

Brittany frowned. "I don’t know the melody," she noted.

"I know. The band will run through it a couple of times, and then you can sing, okay?"

Brittany felt butterflies in her stomach. This wasn't quite what she'd expected. "I can try." She sat on a bar stool and listened carefully as the band played, while her eyes were fixed on the lyrics. After the band had played twice, she nodded. "Okay, I think I'm ready to give it a try."

After she finished the song, which Brittany had noted was completely dissimilar to the style of 'Radically Chick', she noticed that another man had joined Mr. Jackson in the sound booth. The two were talking intently, but with the soundproof glass, she couldn't make out what they were saying. Mr. Jackson turned back to her. "That was great," he said into the microphone in front of him. "Can you try the other one now?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah." She studied the lyrics, and then listened as the band played through the song. This song was a little more of a rock-style love song, and she was a little nervous about singing it. But she pressed through, and when she finished, she saw Mr. Jackson give her a thumbs-up.

Mr. Jackson pressed a button by his console. "Very nice. Why don't we call that good, and we can talk in my office? We've got someone else coming in to this studio in a bit."

Brittany nodded nervously. While she'd been singing, she hadn't been thinking of anything except singing. Now, though, she had nothing to distract herself from the business aspects of the studio. She barely spoke as they walked back to the office.

Mr. Jackson gestured for her to sit down opposite his desk. He eased himself into his own chair. "The demos Steve sent me didn't do you justice. I'd like to work with you, because I think we could have a mutually beneficial relationship."

"I'm ... flattered," Brittany stammered. "I hope you understand that I'll really have to work through my mom. After all," she said with a smile, "I'm not eighteen yet, and my mom is the band's manager, so I'd want her to work any business deals for me as well."

"I understand," Mr. Jackson didn't wince at her request. "We've got a couple of really good songwriters that have a few songs ready — like the two I had you audition with. And we can use the studio's band — at least at first."

"Okay," Brittany answered uneasily. "Um, I write lyrics, too. And the songs — that wasn't quite what ...."

"Wasn't quite your area of interest?" Mr. Jackson asked. He smiled a nice fatherly smile. "With the lyrics you have right now, there might be some legal ... complications with your old band. I don't think you'd want a singing career with a lawsuit over rights to songs, do you? We can start you with some songs we've got. That lets you get a quicker start to releasing recordings, while you have time to write some original songs — if you'd like."

"Oh, okay."

"Of course, we'll have an image consultant to work with you for any releases you do, since publicity will be a big part of how well your songs will sell." He saw the puzzled look in Brittany's eyes. "It doesn't work well, publicity-wise, if your look doesn't match the music style. We'll have to see how the first couple of songs sell, but it wouldn't be too early to start preparing for an album."

"It takes a while for me to write lyrics," Brittany countered softly. "I don't know how long it would take to write enough for an album. I never thought that far ahead."

"I think we have enough music available that will fit your style, so you won't have to worry about writing to a deadline."

Brittany wasn't listening completely. Once Mr. Jackson had mentioned a possible album, Brit's imagination took over. She was visualizing herself in the pictures, only this time, on cover art of a CD.

**********

"Hi, Mom," Brittany called as she walked in the kitchen.

Mom was sitting at her computer desk, in what had once been a breakfast nook. "You're a little late, honey," she said without even looking up.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," Brit apologized half-heartedly. She was still almost giddy from her audition.

"Leftovers are in the fridge. By the way, Jason called. The guys wanted to take the night off from practicing. Again."

"Okay," Brittany said, dropping her backpack on the counter and opening the refrigerator.

Mom frowned to herself. Brittany wasn't concerned about missing a practice. She always insisted on practicing. "Is something wrong with you guys? You haven't been practicing a lot, and you've got the contract with Shell Game in just over a week."

"I'm fine, Mom," Brit protested. "We ... just need a little time to de-stress."

Mom noticed that, until she'd mentioned practice, Brit had sounded unusually pleased with herself. "Okay," she said, turning in her chair to face her daughter, "spill it."

"What?" Brittany asked as she rummaged around, looking for the leftovers. She was trying to sound innocent.

"Where were you, and why are you so pleased with yourself?" Mom asked.

Brit debated trying to lie further, but she knew her mom would eventually catch on. She turned back and let the refrigerator door shut. "I ... had an audition," she admitted.

"An audition? At school?"

"No, with a recording studio," Brit answered. As she saw her mom's jaw drop, Brit continued, hastily, "I told you about the guy who gave me his card when we performed at Shell Game, remember? I auditioned at his recording studio after school."

Her mom’s eyes were wide with shock and concern. "You shouldn't do something like that without talking to your father and me! Who knows what kind of shady operations ...."

"Mom, it's not a shady operation. It's a real, major studio! Here." She dug Mr. Jackson's card out of her purse and handed it to her mom. She smiled to herself when she saw her mom's eyes widen when she recognized the studio's name.

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Mom asked.

Brittany smiled. "No."

"But ... Jason didn't say anything about that when he called," Mom said. She saw Brittany look down, and read her body-language. "You didn't audition with the guys, did you? You did this by yourself!"

"Yeah," Brittany admitted. Then she looked up sharply, an angry frown on her face. "The guys were starting to be assholes, anyway," she said defensively.

"Brittany!" Mom said, shocked by her reaction.

"Well, it's true! They were pissy about the pictures we used on the poster and the T-shirt, they were getting upset about the lyrics and arrangements. They were bitching about my singing lead." Brit shook her head, scowling. "It's a good thing Jason and the others don’t want to practice tonight, because I really don't want to put up with their crap."

**********

Brittany sat in her car, her eyes half-closed, wondering what had happened. She'd just finished a very bad day at school. Her friends Gwen, Wendy, and Erica, all avoided her, giving her the silent treatment. Even acquaintances like Felicia and Frankie were barely acknowledging her presence. She'd even heard Vanessa and her friends giggling, and seen the pointing, as she walked by.

As far as Jason and Don were concerned, she could just as well have been invisible. Other guys, including Nick, had still fawned over her, but when her own band members were ignoring her, or worse, she had to start wondering what the future held. Altogether, it had been one of the worst days of her life.

Brittany started her car and pulled out of the parking lot. She thought she was driving aimlessly, not knowing where to go, but she slowly realized that she _did_ have a destination as she passed the Lynnwood Mall. In the distance, she could make out the tower of the condos next to Bikini Beach. Why was she coming back to this place, she asked herself. She still didn't know the answer when she pulled into the parking lot. Maybe, subconsciously, she needed a break from school and practice. Yeah, she told herself, that was it. She needed to relax.

Brittany tensed as she got out of her car, and she spied Wendy, Gwen, and Erica strolling across the parking lot. "Hey, Wendy," she called out. She walked quickly to catch up to her friends.

The trio of girls turned, looking. As soon as they spotted Brittany, their curious expressions turned to annoyance. Brittany was close enough to hear Erica hiss softly, "Just keep walking!"

Wendy shook her head. "You guys go on. I'll catch up in a sec." She turned toward Brittany.

"We didn't talk much today," Brit said, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she neared Wendy. Gwen and Erica had gone on, leaving Wendy standing by herself near the gate.

"Been busy," Wendy said. Her voice was carefully neutral.

"I didn't know you were coming here today. We can have a fun afternoon," Brit prompted hopefully.

Wendy just shrugged noncommittally. "Whatever."

"Did you get much homework today?" Brit tried to make small talk as the two resumed walking toward the gate.

"The usual." Wendy was being unusually terse with her responses.

"Are you guys coming to Shell Game next Friday or Saturday? We're playing there."

"I heard." Again, Wendy was keeping her voice devoid of emotion. "I heard that Don isn't sure he wants to play."

"Yeah," Brittany admitted. "They don't want to practice much, either."

"Don and Nick both said that you're changing all the music, and taking the lead in a lot more songs."

"Well, yeah," Brit said, "The booking agent and the manager at Shell Game like my sound."

"I thought it was the band's sound," Wendy commented acidly.

"It is, but the guy from the studio said that I've bring something that most bands don't have," Brittany said defensively.

"Studio?" Wendy asked, her eyebrows narrowing. "What studio?"

Brit realized — too late — that she'd said too much. "When we played at Shell Game, a guy from a recording studio told me he wanted an audition," she admitted softly.

Wendy looked surprised. "Are you guys going to go for it?" Brit looked down, unsure of how to answer. "It's not the band," Wendy said slowly as realization of Brittany's intentions dawned. "He wants to audition just you!"

"It could be a big break!" Brittany said, even more defensively. "And I can get the band into the deal — if something comes through!"

Wendy shook her head. "But ... you guys are a team!" She saw the look on Brittany's face. "Jason was right. You _have_ changed. You've become a self-centered bitch, just like the guys said." She turned sharply away from Brittany and walked through the gate, her head tilted back disdainfully, leaving Brittany standing with a stunned expression on her face.

Brittany slowly realized that she wasn't alone as she gawked in the direction Wendy had gone with Gwen and Erica. She snapped out of her state of shock and glanced to her side. "Oh, hi," she said, recognizing Anya.

"I take it things aren't going well," Anya observed.

Brittany sighed. "I don't understand," she began. "Wendy and Gwen are so jealous of my ...," she paused when she noticed Anya's expression that she'd taken credit for the band's good fortune, "our ... success."

"Like what?" Anya asked, curious as to Brit's opinion.

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

"And spoil the lesson of self-discovery?" Anya asked with a wink.

Brit shook her head. "I had a really crappy day," she said. "Even my best friend called me a ... a bitch! I don't understand."

Anya gently touched her elbow. "Let's go talk in the office," she suggested. The two walked silently to the low gray building, where Anya pushed the code entry keypad and let them in. As Brittany sat down on a sofa, Anya asked, "Soda?"

"Diet Coke, thanks."

Anya retrieved two beverages from a large refrigerator in the corner of the office. "Now, tell me what's happening," she said as she sat down at the other end of the sofa.

Brit opened her soda and took a sip. "The guys are all mad at me."

"I can understand Vanessa being pissed at the way you tricked her. But why are the guys mad at you?"

Brit shook her head. "I don’t' know. All I want is to improve our sound, so we can get more gigs and more recognition."

"How are you doing that?"

Brittany shook her head. "We're just changing a few songs in the lineup, and we've rewritten a few lyrics to play to our strengths."

"Which is mostly your vocals, right?" Anya asked knowingly.

"No," Brit denied, defensively. She saw Anya's solemn stare at her, and swallowed. "Well, maybe," she admitted.

"And maybe the guys think you're being a little egotistical? That maybe you think you're better or more important than they are."

Brittany started to rebut, but stopped. Something in Anya's words got her. "They've changed, though!" she protested. "They've all changed."

Anya waved her fingers, and suddenly, there was a mirror in her hand. She held it up in front of Brittany. "What do you see?"

"I see me," Brittany answered, confused.

"A few weeks ago, the reflection was a high-school senior _boy_!" Anya said sternly. "Now, tell me who changed."

Brit gulped. "I did?" she asked tentatively. "But ...." She stopped. "Did I change my attitude? Is it _me_ that's causing people to ... get pissed at me?" she asked rhetorically.

Anya shrugged. "That's not for me to say. You're the one who needs to answer that question. Before you changed, how was the split of vocals?"

"When we had Tonya, she sang lead probably forty percent, and Jason and I split the rest pretty evenly."

"And now?"

Brittany thought. "It's probably about the same, but me singing instead of Tonya."

"Brittany, you're lying to yourself," Anya chided.

Brittany looked down, both lost in thought and ashamed at her transparent lie. "I guess ... with the changes we've made, it's about two-thirds me, and one third Jason."

"And?"

Brittany thought of her encounters with others. She remembered how she was pushing the band to change to accommodate her, rather than her being part of the team. She recalled how she was more than a little haughty, and acting better than others in school, because she was a star. "I guess I was getting caught up being popular, and in having a shot at success."

"So?"

"So, I need to apologize?"

Anya nodded. "And you need to tell the guys about something else."

Brit nodded slowly. "I need to tell them that with Mr. Jackson wanted _me_ to audition without them."

"You need to tell them that you actually _did_ audition, too."

Brittany started to show her surprise, but then she remembered who she was dealing with. "They're going to be pissed," Brittany stated.

"More upset than they are now? Which would they appreciate more — you being honest and repentant, or a half-hearted apology and a secret that they're eventually going to find out about? What is it you want most of all?" Anya asked. "Having true friends, or being famous?" She shook her head. "A lot of people who become famous would trade in all the recognition and notoriety for a few true friends."

"I ... I guess I want to be successful and famous," Brittany said, " but ... I like my friends. I like playing with the band."

**********

"Hi, Mom," Brit said, unenthusiastically, as she dropped her backpack on the counter with a soft thud.

"That doesn't sound like happiness and sunshine," Mom observed. She was seated on a stool next to the cooking island. A tall glass of iced tea rested on the high counter to one side, and she had a book open in front of her.

Brit shook her head. "Not exactly a good day," she said softly.

"Oh?"

"The guys don't want to talk to me, and all my friends are getting pretty bitchy."

"And you've been thinking about that audition, too, haven't you?"

Brit nodded silently.

"What's up with your friends?"

"I thought their attitudes toward me changed because they were jealous," Brit began, "but a ... friend ... strongly suggested that I'm the one who's changed."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Mom said, "but ...."

"You think so, too?"

"Ever since you played at Shell Game, you've been a little pushy about the band. Your father and I both noticed, and I hardly pay attention to what you're doing. Your father commented that your practices have been getting more and more contentious."

"Daddy noticed?" Brit asked, shocked. "And you guys didn't say anything?"

"What, and have you accuse _us_ of trying to stop your success, too?"

Brit lowered her head. She deserved that comment.

"I take it you've been thinking a lot about the audition. Pull up a chair and tell me about it." Twenty minutes later, Mom leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"So, what do you think, Mom?" Brittany asked softly. She seemed almost visibly eager to have her mom approve her audition.

"The more important thing, Brit," Mom replied cautiously, "is what _you_ think."

"I ... guess it's good," Brit said hesitantly. "Isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"I'm not sure," Brittany confessed. "I mean, they weren't too interested in my songs. And their image consultant was talking about changing my entire look."

"Are you going to be happy singing someone else's songs? Especially since, by your own admission, they're a totally different sound than you've been focused on since you started?" She saw the look of doubt in Brittany's eyes. "Let me tell you my concerns. First, Mr. Jackson was discouraging you from using your own lyrics." She saw Brittany's eyes widen a bit. "Second, he was pushing the image consultant, which to me says that he wants to change your image. Are you okay with having a corporation tell you what your musical identity and look are?"

"Are you saying that you think they just want to use me to perform their songs?"

Mom nodded. "That's what it sounds like to me."

Brittany deflated. She said nothing for several long seconds. "That's kind of what I was afraid of admitting," she said.

"And third, you're about to sacrifice some friendships for the sake of fame." She shook her head. "That's always a bad tradeoff. I know you were excited about possibly getting a break," Mom said, putting her hand on Brit's shoulder. "But businesses use people, and it sounds like they just wanted to use your looks and your stage presence to make money on _their_ songs, and weren't interested in your sound and style."

"Maybe in the back of my mind, I knew that."

"Would you like me to talk to Mr. Jackson?" Mom offered. "I can see if he has any interest in doing things your way, with your songs and your style."

Brittany wiped at a tear. She realized that her dream of sudden stardom had been dealt a temporary setback. "Thanks, Mom." She rose and gave her mom a hug. Then she picked up her backpack, and started walking to her bedroom.

"And Brit," Mom called after her, "you better start thinking of how you're going to deal with your friends.

"When you talk to Mr. Jackson, can you tell him that it's got to be all of the band, playing _our_ songs, or nothing?"

**********

"Thanks for coming over, guys," Brittany said softly as she looked around the garage. The members of the band were nowhere near their instruments, but were standing around looking impatient and unhappy.

"What's up?" Vanessa asked, her words sounding suspicious and angry.

"I've ... got a few things I need to say," Brit started hesitantly.

"Like that's something new," Don scoffed sarcastically.

"Knock it off," Jason snapped at Don.

Brit shook her head. "No, Jason," she said softly. "I had that coming." She looked down, biting her lower lip as she struggled to find the right words. When she looked up again, the guys could see the pain in her eyes. "I _have_ been a selfish egotistical bitch lately," she admitted. "I've been focused on myself, and I was pushing you guys to the side so I could be the star of the band."

"We noticed," Nick commented.

"But I didn't," Brit said, "at least not until just recently. I think I know why I started getting carried away, too." She looked at the guys, hoping for them to forgive and accept her without her having to explain everything. Instead, they were standing, mute, waiting for her to continue. "When we were taking a break at Shell Game," she continued, "a record producer talked to me about auditioning."

"We know," Don said, his voice carefully devoid of emotion.

Brit's eyes widened at the revelation that the guys knew that the producer had contacted her. "I ... I guess I got caught up in the thought of being a star," Brit said, letting her gaze drop from shame. "When he told me that he wanted just me to audition, I was only thinking of myself."

"You know the story of Cyndi Lauper and Blue Angel?" Jason asked, sounding like he was changing the subject.

Brittany nodded. "Yeah. The record producers wanted her, so they signed her entire band just to get her on contract. The band was disposable to the record company."

Don nodded. "It looked like you thought the same of us."

"Mom reminded me. So did Wendy and Gwen and Erica. In fact, everyone has been making sure I got the message that I was getting a little full of myself. Only, I was a little too star-struck to listen — until now."

"Okay, so where do we go from here?" Nick asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

"There's more, I'm afraid," Brit said, her voice quavering. "I thought you guys were holding me back, so I went to the studio and did the audition."

The garage was hushed. The guys stared at her, stunned by her revelation.

Brittany looked down. "I know it was wrong to go behind your backs. I'm ... I'm sorry."

Again, an awkward silence descended over the garage. The guys didn't know about this, and it was an uneasy hush, as everyone tried to think of something to say. The longer the silence went, the more awkward it became.

"How did it go?" Vanessa finally asked, breaking the ice.

"What?" Brittany asked, surprised by the question.

"How did it go? You could at least tell us how the audition went."

"It ... " Brittany took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "It sucked."

"Sucked? How?" Nick asked, surprised at her description.

Brittany sighed. "They didn't like my music, but wanted me to sing _their_ songs. It was a whole different style. They weren't very excited about me writing, either. I got the impression that the producer was trying to discourage me from writing."

"That doesn't sound good," Jason admitted softly.

"No," Brittany admitted. She was starting to feel a little more at ease, like the guys were accepting that she'd had a difficult lesson in friendship and music. "They had me meet with an image consultant, and they were talking about basically redoing my entire look."

"Was it worth it?" Don asked. He wasn't trying to sound cynical, but he couldn't help it, given the circumstances.

Brittany shook her head. "I blew it, didn't I?" She looked down, still shaking her head sadly. "I let my ego get the better of me, and I blew it."

Jason walked over and put his arm around her shoulder. "No," he countered. "You came close, but you were honest enough to tell us the whole story."

"It's probably too much to ask you guys to forgive me, and to get back together — like we used to be." Brittany felt tears trickling down her cheeks. She was certain that it was the end of the band, that she'd caused such mistrust and resentment that the band could never be like it was before she'd been enticed by the thought of fame.

Brittany looked up, her eyes surprised, when she felt Nick put his arm on her other shoulder. Don joined Nick, and then Vanessa completed the five-person group hug. "I'm so sorry," she cried, unable to contain the tears of regret, and tears of gratitude for her friends not walking away from her after what she'd done.

"We'll get more balance to the songs?" Jason asked cautiously.

"Promise," Brit replied.

"You _do_ realize that you've essentially given us permission to remind you if you start to get bitchy or egotistical again, don't you?" Vanessa asked.

Brit nodded. "I'm counting on it," she said.

"Okay, does that mean we're back together as a band, and that we're going to play at Shell Game next weekend?" Nick asked.

Everyone nodded. "Yeah."

"Then we better practice. We've had a few rough nights with no practice, and if we're going to wow the crowd, then we need to make sure we're ready to play." With tears in her eyes, she looked at her friends. "Thanks guys."

"For what?" Nick asked uncertainly.

"For giving me a second chance."

**********

Wendy glanced around at the group, all of whom were just as puzzled as she was. "Do any of you have a clue what this is about?" she asked.

The other girls — Erica, Gwen, Felicia, and Frankie — all shook their heads. "No idea," Gwen replied.

"We might as well sit down to wait," Felicia said as she glanced around. She didn't see anyone coming their way who could answer why each of the girls had received a note in her locker to meet here, 'here' being an ice-cream shop near school that was a favorite hangout. She sat down at a table, and was joined by the other girls.

A few moments later, the door opened, and the girls turned. There was a collective sigh of disappointment when Brittany walked into the shop. She paused in the door, and looked around, stopping her gaze on the four girls.

"Look who just came in," Gwen said under her breath. "Queen Bitch."

"Shhh," Erica whispered. "She's coming over."

Brittany walked to the edge of the table and looked at the girls. "Hi," she said, trying to be friendly, though she was nearly shaking with nervousness.

"We're waiting for someone," Wendy said, her voice harsh and uninviting.

"Yeah, I know," Brit replied unsteadily. "I'm the one who put the notes in your lockers."

"What?" Felicia's jaw hung open in disbelief.

Gwen just shook her head, and then pushed her chair back and started to stand to leave.

"Please," Brittany implored. "Before you go, I need to say something to you guys."

The girls looked at her, their expressions varying from disbelief to annoyance. Gwen and Erica looked like they were ready to leave without listening to what Brittany had to say.

"I ... I've been," she dropped her gaze, unable to look at the other girls, "a bitch and a pain in the ass. I've been self-absorbed, and I've hurt my friends because of it. I'm ... very, very sorry." She shook her head sadly, still looking down, still unable to look the other girls in the eye. "I just wanted you to know that I realize how I've been acting, and I'm sorry." She sighed, and knew her eyes were misting. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I wanted you to know ...." Abruptly, unable to control her tears, she turned and started walking back to the door. She'd said what she needed to say, and she felt like she needed to leave before she spoiled the girls' fun.

Wendy looked at Brit's retreating figure, then glanced around the table, at the stunned expressions on the other girls' faces. "Brit, wait!" she called out after her friend.

Brit stopped, but didn't turn. Her shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh, and then she resumed her walk to the exit.

Wendy dashed to her friend's side, and put her hand on Brit's shoulder. "Don't go," she pleaded as Brit halted.

"But ... I hurt you guys," Brit said softly, still facing toward the door.

"Yeah, you did," Gwen said from the table. "You did something stupid. Guess what," she continued, glancing around the table, "so have we all."

Wendy guided Brit back to the table, where she pushed her gently into a chair.

"We all make mistakes," Felicia added. "But we're friends, and that means we forgive each other."

Brittany was in tears, from guilt at how she'd treated her friends to feeling unworthy of their forgiveness of her. "I'm so sorry," she repeated. "I got carried away with the whole idea of being a big star, and I forgot about my friends. I guess I had to learn that nothing is worth ruining friendships. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," Erica said, her expression carefully neutral. "So am I." She shook her head as she stood. "Maybe you guys can forgive her attitude so easily, but I can't. Not after some of the things she said to me." She picked up her purse and walked purposefully to the exit.

Behind her, Brit watched, tears rolling down her cheeks. She knew it was her fault that Erica had left her. She'd abused a friendship, and now she was paying the price.

"She'll get over it," Wendy tried to reassure Brittany.

"Maybe," Brit answered, wiping at her tears. "And maybe not." She shook her head sadly. "I guess I really screwed up."

**********

It was poetic justice, Brit figured as she winced at the discomfort. She'd sneaked by during her first couple of changes without facing this issue, but Vanessa had changed right into the middle of hers. Now, the fates had gotten even, and at a most inconvenient time. Friday morning, just before they were to play at Shell Game, Brittany found the discomfort quite bothersome, and then found — to her horror — that she was starting her period.

Strutting around stage, dancing to the music, singing, and playing some guitar were all a lot less fun due to her cramps. She felt bloated, even though she knew, from the way her clothes fit, that such wasn't the case.

Brittany and the band belted out the final round of the chorus, and a last few notes of Nick's guitar, and the final song of the evening ended.

"Thank you," Jason and Brit said into their mics at the same time.

Jason continued. "It's been our pleasure to play for you tonight. Remember, we're 'Radically Chick', and you can find some of our music on our web site."

Brittany continued, "We'll be back tomorrow night; we hope you'll come out and dance and have more fun. We'll be up here for a little bit, if you want to buy one of our posters or T-shirts." Brit smiled at how her mom had negotiated with Mr. McNeil. He was reluctant to allow the kids to sell T-shirts, since his own concession of Shell Game T-shirts and apparel was a big money-maker for him. But when her mom had offered a cut of the profits, Mr. McNeil was only too happy to change his mind.

Brit set the mic back in its stand, and walked to the edge of the stage, where she sat down, her legs dangling off the stage. "Feels good to sit," she commented to Vanessa, who had just joined her.

"I saw how you were acting," Vanessa said with a smile. "Don't tell me it's _your_ time of the month."

Brit chuckled. "Yeah, and it's pretty uncomfortable. I guess it's cosmic justice for how I tricked you."

"Shh," Vanessa hissed when she saw the guys coming to join them.

As Jason sat down beside her, a teenage boy came up to Brit with a poster. "Can I get you to autograph this for me?" he shyly asked her.

Brit smiled and reached for the boy's pen, but then she paused. "You know, when we make it big, this poster will be a lot more valuable with all of our autographs on it." She winked at Jason, who grinned back.

Nick leaned over from the other side of Brittany. "Go ahead — give the guy your autograph," he whispered with a smile. "Make him ache with jealousy that he can fantasize all he wants, but he'll never be as close to you as I am."

"As _who_ is?" Jason countered from the other side of Brittany.

She turned, surprised, back towards Jason, and saw his grin. "Are you two going to fight over me again?" Brit said playfully.

"Pistols at ten paces?" Nick suggested, feigning a serious expression.

"Why don't you forget your misbegotten notion that our lead singer could ever go out with a lout like you, and instead try to pick up some of the dozens girls who are fawning over the band?" Jason teased. "You turn on that phony Russian accent, and you'll have more girls than you know what to do with!"

Brit ignored the guys' playful squabbling, and signed the poster. She saw another couple of guys waiting around so she could sign their posters, too. She smiled to herself — the band was back to being fun, like in the old days, before she got swept away by her selfish thoughts of being famous.

**********

"That was a good night," Brit said conversationally as she drove Vanessa home.

"Yeah. But I still hate you for what you did," Vanessa replied, though she didn't sound entirely convincing.

"From the way you and Don were making eyes at each other," Brit observed dispassionately, "I wouldn't have guessed that you hated being a girl."

Vanessa winced. "Okay," she admitted after a bit of a pause. "I guess there are a couple of things that were fun."

"Like making out with Don?"

Vanessa blushed, a sight unseen in the dark interior of the car. "Um, yeah," she admitted sheepishly. "Sex is pretty good, too," she added very softly.

"Based on the way you two were acting this last week," Brit commented, "I wondered if that's what you were up to."

"It was cool to have all the guys admiring me while we were playing, and during our breaks."

Brittany grinned. "Girls do have a certain ... power over guys."

"Yeah."

"If you've been fooling around, I hope you were smart enough to take precautions," Brit said cautiously.

Vanessa nodded. "I remember what they told me. I could get pregnant, and if I did, the change was permanent. I was careful."

"Okay."

The two rode in silence for a few blocks before Vanessa spoke again. "Um," she began, her voice nervous, "I ... want to say thanks for the experience."

Brittany's eyes popped open with surprise. "Oh?"

"Yeah. It's been ... interesting," Vanessa commented. "Things at home are different, it's fun to have the guys at school paying attention to me. And ... sex is pretty nice. But I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you don't know."

Brittany started to answer, but paused. She couldn't admit to Vanessa that she had changed, too. Reality had been changed for her, and no-one else knew. "Um, I'm glad you're making the best of it."

"Some parts suck, though," Vanessa added. "Like having a period."

Brittany laughed. "You're telling me? I was playing last night and tonight with mine!" She stopped at a red light. "Are we friends, after what I did?"

"Yeah." Vanessa paused. "You know, I might do it again," she admitted in a hushed voice. "It's been kind of fun."

"Maybe even a permanent change?"

Vanessa's eyes widened. "Not even for a recording contract!" she replied quickly. "But maybe for a performance or two. Or just a fun weekend." She got a mischievous smile. "Maybe some time, before we play, we should get the guys to visit the park. Then we could be an ALL girl band!"

"Maybe," Brittany smiled. She knew that she was going to invest some of her earnings in a lifetime pass — as soon as she turned eighteen. Maybe Vanessa didn't like all of the changes, maybe it wasn't who she was, but Brittany was sure - even with the harsh lessons on friendship, including losing Erica as a friend, she wanted to stay Brittany.

FIN