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Part 3

There I sat. Face flushed, hair in disarray; panting as I attempted to stay perched upon the side of my bed. A light mist of perspiration crowned my forehead. I reached up to brush it away; along with several locks of wavy ash blonde hair. My chest rose up and down in a fevered struggle beneath my gray sports bra.

"Maybe I just need to exercise more," I said, still breathing hard.

"I don't think that's the case at all," Tawny said. "You run all the time with Nathan. I think it's something else."

I watched her for a moment. Tawny busied herself by digging through my closet. She seemed determined in her hunt. Every so often she would pull something out, and toss it over the back of my chair. She was right though. Looking down past my bra, I took in the sight below. The bright yellow panties were a sharp contrast to the denim flaps framing them.

"That's like the fourth pair," I said, solemnly. "I had to unzip them just to sit down."

"Try these," Tawny said.

I watched her as she strolled across my room. She held out a pair of jeans. As I looked up into her bright green eyes, I let out a frustrated sigh. Her hands dropped slightly, lowering the jeans to me. Then she fronted her infamous do-it-for-me expression that simply made me weak. Although my previous struggle could account for part of that feeling. My eyes locked onto the pair of jeans she held.

"This is silly," I said.

"I just want to see," Tawny said. "You've definitely worn these before."

That much was true. I instantly recognized the pair of jeans. They happened to be a pair I wore several times when I first started dressing. A pink butterfly casually flittered up one leg. Behind it swirled a trail of pink glittery lines. They were perhaps the tightest, most form-fitting jeans my mother had bought me. In fact, I believe she was the one that picked them out.

"Fine," I said, letting out another sigh.

Tawny took a few steps back, as I stood up from my bed. My bare feet sank into the carpet. I glanced at the pair of jeans in Tawny's hands, and then my eyes met hers again. She stared at me intently. For some reason I expected her to leave the room, or at the very least turn around. I don't know why. She had watched the same process several times by now. It felt nearly the same as undressing in front of Tiffany at this point.

My fingers hooked around the waistband of the jeans I had on. With a not-so-careful yank I pulled them down and over my butt. Once they hit my upper thighs, I began to shimmy them down my legs. Finally I was able to step out of them, and kick them gently over to Tawny. She pushed the other pair forward, and I took them from her.

I stooped over, and slipped my feet into them. As I stood, I carefully brought the jeans up over my legs. By the time they reached my knees, I knew this would become a concerted effort. The last pair I had on could easily be considered tight. At least they had some stretch in the denim. This pair, however, had no give, and they were quick to remind me of that fact.

"Wow," Tawny said, out of the silence. "Maybe you should stop there."

"These were always a little tight," I said, pulling at them more.

I had managed to get the jeans halfway up my thighs by then. The hard part was yet to come. From sheer experience, I began to shimmy in the jeans, causing them to inch up further. By the time the waistband popped up over my hips and butt, I found myself nearly exhausted. My fingers fumbled for the button.

"There's no way," Tawny said, holding her hand up. "I mean it. We might have to cut you out of them if you even manage to get them fastened."

I pulled at the waistband, but it wouldn't budge. What I had barely been able to fasten before, now seemed like the impossible. The button was nearly three inches away from where it needed to go. I frantically began to squirm in the jeans, as I continued in vain to pull them closed. If Tawny had not stepped forward at that moment, I probably would have gone crazy.

"Bailey," she said, putting her hands on mine. "It's not gonna happen babe."

I squirmed away from her, taking a frustrated stroll around my room. "I don't understand," I said. "They fit me fine not even a year ago. They all did!" I threw my hand out gesturing to the other pairs. "Now none of them fit."

Tawny stepped over to me. "Bailey…" she said, while reaching for my arm again.

I jerked my arm from her. "This isn't right," I said, walking to my bed. "They should all fit. Everything else fits. The skirts. The shoes. The shirts. Everything but these stupid jeans!"

"Oh," Tawny said, holding her hands out. "I wouldn't…"

Her words were met with the deafening sound of cloth ripping. My eyes shut; mostly from disappointment, but slightly from embarrassment. I never wanted to open them again. I would have to see the truth then. The pair of jeans I had so desperately tried to squeeze into, had basically exploded in half. When my eyes finally opened, I saw Tawny standing over me. Her hands were clinched together, with her thumbs resting against her lips.

"You shouldn't have sat down," she said quietly.

"Well I know that now!" I exclaimed.

"Don't be mad at me," Tawny said, sitting next to me on the bed.

"I'm not," I said, looking at her thoughtfully. "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated."

"It's okay," Tawny said. She put her hand on my back, and slowly moved it up and down.

My head dropped, causing wavy locks of hair to cascade around my face. I stared at the denim stretched tightly over my thighs. "I really liked this pair."

"Because of the butterfly?" Tawny asked.

"Yeah…" I said, leaning into her.

Tawny pulled me even closer. She turned, and slipped her other arm around me. For several minutes we sat there in silence. Like before, in the bathroom, Tawny began rocking back and forth with me in her arms. My eyes remained locked on the pair of jeans that no longer fit. In fact, four of the five pairs I tried on no longer fit me. The pair that barely fit were still tight around the hips. I was still trying to process this discovery, and somehow put it with the image of my body in the mirror, when a horn sounded from outside.

"Aw crud," Tawny said, turning her head to my window. "That's Lynne I bet."

I lifted my head to look at Tawny. "You didn't even get to tell me what you came over here for," I said. "Was it important?"

Tawny seemed lost in thought for a moment. "No," she finally said, standing from the bed. "It can wait." She groaned as she looked out of my window. "I really don't want to leave you like this."

"I think I'll be fine," I said, offering the best reassuring smile I could muster.

"Well at least let me help you get out of those," she said, nodding at the jeans.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

Tawny stepped forward and pushed me back onto the bed. "Cute…" she said, while she began peeling the jeans down over my thighs. Eventually she got them down far enough that she could yank them off of me completely. She folded them, and her hand ran across the butterfly. "I could do something with these, if you'd like?"

I shrugged. "They're pretty much done for," I said, slipping from the bed to find other attire.

"I'm so sorry to leave like this," Tawny said. "I would stay if I could."

"I'd probably get in trouble for being alone with a girl anyway," I said, letting out a nervous laugh.

"I'll call you later."

"Sure," I said, pulling a pair of knit shorts from a drawer. I slipped them on before turning to face her. "You shouldn't keep Lynne waiting though."

"Bailey… I…"

I smiled at her. "I'll be fine," I said. "I just need to talk to my mom about it."

"Okay," Tawny said.

She stepped forward, and threw her arms around me. I sank into her embrace. A part of me missed Tiffany still, but I had grown extremely fond of Tawny. Bit by bit, I had been working up the nerve to express these feelings. I liked to think that Tawny was privately working up the nerve as well. When she pulled away, my heart sank ever so slightly in my chest.

"Talk to you soon," she said.

I nodded as she slipped out the door. After the front door closed, I stood in the middle of my room in silence. Desperately I fought the urge to sink to the floor and start crying my eyes out. It wouldn't help matters at all. My eyes drifted down to discarded jeans scattered around the room. I kicked the closest pair away, grabbed a t-shirt, and stormed out of my room.

When I hit the hallway I really had no idea where I was headed. I paced back toward my parents room, and then all the way into the living room. For a moment I stood there staring at the television. It didn't seem even remotely right to sit down and watch a show at this point. So I stormed off into the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," I said, looking out the window into our back yard. "If anything I should probably exercise."

There had to be a reason I came into the kitchen though. Something in my life had to make sense at that moment in time. So many questions ran through my mind, that I couldn't figure out which to ask first. I felt like something had to be amiss. Slowly I turned my attention toward the back of the dining room. Tom's office door appeared to be open ever so slightly. It was as if it was inviting me to come in.

My mind drifted back to last month. I tried to focus on a particular day. There was a phone call in Tom's office. Some woman was talking about a problem at the shop. Wait… That wasn't right at all. She didn't say anything about the shop, but rather something else.

"Warehouse…" I thought, recalling the answering machine message. "When did Tom ever get a warehouse?"

I strolled over to the dining room table. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move in our backyard. Turning to look out the sliding door, I realized it was only Buckles running around in his pen. As I studied the door for a moment, my memory was jogged yet again. Nancy, Carla and Jillian had interrupted me that day. Nothing else happened after that.

"The phone call wasn't important," I thought, as I turned my attention back to Tom's office.

I reached for the door. It brushed across the carpet as it slowly swung open. Fumbling for the light switch, I finally managed to find it. The room burst to life with a soft white glow. My eyes scanned over the books and the pens. They darted over the papers and the opened envelopes.

"The letter," I said aloud.

Quickly I pushed into the room. Before I even made contact with the chair, my hands were already combing through the papers on Tom's desk. I sifted through the stacks of papers. My eyes were on the lookout for a letter from Doctor Brooks. It had mentioned something about my medication, or the like.

Not finding the letter in the papers, I moved on to the open envelopes. Perhaps he had stuffed it back into one. I thumbed through the small stack of envelopes, looking for anything to do with Doctor Brooks' office. There was nothing. Frantic now, I started looking for anything to do with my medical treatments.

I found several bills pertaining to Doctor Dinesh. All of which said they were paid in full. However, they didn't list any specifics as far as I could tell. There were receipts everywhere, mostly from business expenses. Those were brushed to the side as I continued my mission. Somewhere, deep down inside of me, I felt there had to be an answer in this office, or at the very least in this house. Something had to say what was going on with me.

As I scattered the papers across Tom's desk, I suddenly heard the front door open and close. Every muscle in my body froze. The hair on my neck stood straight up, and my breathing suddenly stopped. Footsteps sounded on the steps, and I quickly scrambled to put Tom's office back in order.

"Bailey?"

Tom's voice rang out like a gunshot in a cave. It managed to kick-start my breathing, which now came in short bursts. I rose from his chair. Desperately I tried to assemble his papers in some fashion that resembled where they had been. My heart began to beat to where it felt like it would explode.

"Bailey?" Tom shouted again. "Where the hell are you?"

He was back at my room now. I had precious few seconds to get out of there. That's when I saw it. Doctor Brooks' letter had been precariously shoved into the top of Tom's trashcan. Something I had thought would contain the most important answers of my young life, had been deemed as trash. I quickly grabbed it, slapped the light off, and slid out of the office; making sure to close the door behind me.

"Where were you?" Tom asked, as he broke into the kitchen.

"Outside," I said, as I pretended to be finishing up closing the door.

Tom looked me over. "You didn't hear me yelling?"

My head shook slowly. "Sorry," I said. "I was just getting some sun."

"Oh," Tom said, studying me for a moment longer. "Well… water the dog for me."

"Sure," I said, reaching for the handle of the door again.

"Has your mom been home?"

"Not yet," I said, sliding the door open.

"I'll be in the shower," he said, as he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

The muggy May air washed over me, as I slid the door open. I stepped outside, quickly closing the glass door behind me. My body slumped against it. Air rushed into my lungs as if it were my first breath in years. I stood for a long moment, my eyes shut, feeling the warmth of the air and the concrete beneath my feet.

Right as that warmth started to sink in, the glass door shook, and I jumped as someone knocked on it behind me. I spun, heart leaping beneath my hand. Justin laughed at me from the other side of the glass. He reached for the door handle. The familiar whoosh of the sliding glass door mingled with Justin's laughter as he stepped outside.

"You suck so bad!" I said.

"The look on your face…" he said, between fits of laughter.

I reached up and slapped his arm as hard as I could. "Don't do that to me," I scolded. "I'm already on edge."

"Why?" he asked, as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"Nothing," I said. "I have to give Buckles water."

"I'll do it," Justin said. "I've still got my shoes on."

I wasn't going to argue. Justin was already halfway to the hose. Quietly I slipped back through the door, and closed it behind me. It took me about ten seconds to get back to my room. With the door closed, I whipped the letter from my back pocket. Slowly I sank to my floor, with my back against my door.

My hands trembled as I unfolded the letter. Somewhere inside this cryptic note had to be the answers to everything I was going through. Intent on dissecting it, my eyes hung on every word. As I sat there in deep concentration, something slammed against my door. I jumped from the spot on the floor, and quickly shoved the letter into my pocket once more.

"Where are you going?" Justin's voice echoed down the hallway.

I grabbed the handle to my door and quickly jerked it open. There in front of me was Tom. He quickly reached down and gathered the box at my knees. At a glance I noticed several large envelopes stuffed into the box. I assumed this was the object he had dropped against my door.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as my eyebrows furrowed.

Tom looked at me for a long moment. He had worry in his eyes. Several times he appeared as if he wanted to speak, but he held back.

"Tom?" Justin stepped down the hallway.

Tom's eyes began to shift nervously. "I'll be back later," he finally said. "I just need to handle some things." He cleared his throat as he stood straight. "Take care of Bailey, okay."

Justin stepped in front of Tom as he moved down the hallway. "When are you going to be back?" he asked of Tom, putting his hand up to slow him down.

"Get out of my way," Tom said, pushing Justin aside. "I told you I'll be back later."

"What do I tell mom?"

Tom turned the corner, and moved down the stairs. He didn't say another word. I moved over to where Justin stood in disbelief. The front door opened. Then it closed. Tom was gone. Justin looked down at me.

"What was that all about?"

"I have no idea," I mumbled, strolling back to my room.

I kicked around some of the clothes on my floor. After the day I was having, there really wasn't anything that could get me in the mood to clean. So many times I had wished my stepfather wasn't around. Him leaving tonight was probably the best gift he could've given me. I could talk to my mother alone, without him hovering over our conversation. Now I just had to wait for her to get home.

Some time before sunset, that waiting turned into absolute boredom. I found myself falling into my bed and curling up for a nap. Just after dusk, my brother came and jostled my shoulders, as he tried to rock me awake. I didn't want to move. My entire body seemed to be in revolt. Somehow I had managed to find the perfect spot on my bed. Despite all of my efforts to play dead, my brother eventually managed to get me to open my eyes.

"Come on, Bailey," Justin said. "They're here already."

I looked up at Justin with one eye slightly open. "Who?"

"I just told you," Justin said. "Come on. Get up."

"Yeah," a female voice came ringing into my room from the hallway. "Get up girly girl."

My entire body turned to stone. Almost immediately I could feel my heart slamming against my chest. I bolted upright. My feet swung over the side of my bed. "Kate?!"

I looked up to see a rather cheerful Justin. He was dressed nice for some reason, or at least nicer than usual. "Are you awake now?"

Looking past him, I could see Kate at my door. "What is this?" I asked.

"For about the tenth time," Justin said. "I invited Kate and Tiffany to go do something."

"Well to be fair," Kate said, still hovering at the door. "He called me, and Tiffany begged to tag along."

"Come on! It's Friday, and I'm bored," Justin said, sitting next to me.

I grabbed Justin's shirt collar, and pulled him toward me. "I'm going to kill you for this," I said quietly.

"Alright. Cool," Justin said, standing up straight. He turned to Kate. "Bailey just needs a minute to get dressed."

"Are you sure she's okay with this?" Kate asked.

"You know I'm right here," I said, standing from my bed.

I took a moment to assess my attire. Then I looked around the room. It looked like my closet had vomited out everything I kept in it. My dresser drawers looked ransacked. For a brief moment I thought of bailing out with the excuse I had to clean. That moment passed when Kate asked if I needed help picking an outfit.

"No," I said. "I'm good." I looked over at Kate and Justin, who both seemed to be dressed for a date, more than anything else. "What are we doing exactly?"

"I don't know," Justin said. "Maybe bowling?"

Kate chuckled. "Yeah… Not in this skirt, babe."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment. They continued to stare. Then I realized something else was going on with these two. This actually was a date, and by the way they were acting it wasn't their first. "So…" I said loudly. "Is that a no on the bowling?"

Kate seemed to shake herself out of a daydream.

Justin reached up and rubbed his neck. He turned to look at me again. "What's wrong with that?" he asked, gesturing at my attire.

I looked down over my knit shorts and wrinkled shirt. "Are you kidding me?!"

"What's wrong with you," Kate said, brushing past Justin. "She can't go out in that."

Justin threw his hands up, and walked out of the room. Kate strolled over to my closet, stooping to pick a few things up along the way. I couldn't help but stare at her smooth legs. They seemed to be perfectly defined, and already tanned before summer hit. Her hair also looked amazing. She had rolled it into loose curls.

"You don't need to dress me," I said quietly.

"I just want to help," she said, turning to face me. "And I'm not here to make you dress as a girl either, if that's what you're thinking."

"I don't even mind that," I said. "Honestly… I'd prefer it."

Kate's head tilted to the side. "Really?"

"It feels right most of the time," I said. "I kind of miss going out as a girl." My eyes trailed off toward my window. The sun had nearly set. It seemed a perfect moment to reflect on everything. And suddenly my mouth blurted out what my heart felt. "As myself…"

"I didn't know you felt that way," Kate said solemnly.

"Me either." Tiffany's voice trailed from the doorway.

I turned to face her.

"I thought we were just having fun," she said. "That you were going through a phase."

"I guess things change," I said.

Tiffany strolled into my room, looking like a miniature version of her sister. Her long black hair had the same loose curls. She had subtle makeup that made her look only slightly older. Most likely she had gotten help from Kate. I couldn't help but notice she had much more feminine curves beneath her light green summer dress. Apparently she was one of those early bloomers the rest of the girls talked about; and secretly hated.

"You look nice," I said, offering up a shy smile. "You both do." I glanced over at Kate.

"Bailey," Kate said. "I never knew it was this serious… If I've ever said anything to hurt you…"

"No," I said. "It's okay. I mean you haven't."

"Can we have a few minutes?" Tiffany asked.

"Sure," Kate said. She strolled over to the bed, and dropped the clothes she had been holding. Then she quickly walked out of the room, closing the door as she left.

"So you begged to come?" I asked, as I stepped over to my closet.

Tiffany chuckled. "Is that what Kate said?"

"Basically," I said, pulling out a black knee-length circle skirt from the closet. "Although I find it kind of hard to imagine. You never had to beg for something you wanted."

"I've missed you," Tiffany said quietly.

I turned to look at her. "I've always been here."

She walked over and slumped down on my bed. "You don't know how hard this has been for me," she said. "I see you at school. It's like you're there, but not…"

"You think this has been a walk in the park for me?" I asked, pulling the skirt up my legs and over my shorts. "I feel like I've lost my best friend."

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," Tiffany said, looking up at me with her hazel eyes.

My head tilted to the side. "It was your idea," I said, pulling the shorts off now that the skirt was in place. It was a modesty trick I had learned from Jillian, the same day she taught me how to remove a bra while leaving my shirt on.

"I know!" Tiffany looked over at the window. "And it was a dumb idea."

"No," I said. "The dumbest idea was having Vince involved. I mean… how in the world…"

Tiffany pushed herself up from the bed. "I had to sell it to my parents. Vince was convenient."

"A little too convenient," I said. "Was kissing him in front of Kate part of selling the act?"

She stepped closer to me. "That…" She sighed. "That wasn't supposed to happen. I never thought I'd get that close to him."

I laughed, turning back to my closet. "For the past several months I've been surrounded with nothing but girls," I said. "Girls that I'm close to. One of which I have even kissed before." I pulled a nice light blue top to go with the skirt. "But never once did I think about making one of them my girlfriend for the week. And now they all think that everything was real. It even seems real."

"What do you want me to say?" Tiffany asked.

"Did you like it?" I asked, still looking into the closet. "The kiss?"

"The first few times it was like play acting," Tiffany said. "Like you and I used to do." She sighed. "Then it was nice… like a comforting feeling."

"So you felt something?"

"That's the thing," Tiffany said. "I never felt anything for Vince. It just felt comfortable kissing him. But it still felt like we were acting."

I turned to face her again. "Look," I said. "I don't want to keep fighting about this."

Tiffany stepped closer. "I don't either," she said. "I want to get past it."

"There's fault here on both sides. I mean, I was with you," I said, feeling a lump rising in my throat. "The fake break up. Giving you time to get your parents off your back. Everything you asked for, I let you have. I kind of let you go." I swallowed hard. "But you didn't need to make out with Vince."

"Will you ever forgive me?" Tiffany asked, her hazel eyes now filling with tears.

"That's the thing. I already have forgiven you," I said. "I still care about you. But… maybe we should just stay friends for now."

"Is that really what you want?"

My head shook slowly. "At the moment, it's what I feel I need." I looked down at my attire. "I can't even get my head around this yet," I said, shaking the top in my hand.

"Could I at least be a part of this again?" she asked, slowly reaching out to take my other hand. "What you're going through? Whatever this is?"

I smiled at her. "I would like that," I said.

Tiffany smiled back. "Why don't you finish getting ready? I'll wait outside."

Needless to say, there aren't a lot of things girls are willing to do while wearing skirts. We passed on nearly each and every suggestion Justin seemed to come up with. He just didn't understand. Not to mention we didn't have a lot of time on our hands. None of us wanted to go bowling or play miniature golf. It was too dark for the park. There weren't any good movies, and the mall even seemed like a dull idea. Then Tiffany came up with a brilliant idea, that seemed to work for everyone.

Nothing could beat the amazing feeling of pumping tokens into cheesy games, to win tickets for cheesy prizes. Only we didn't go to that infamous place where a kid could be a kid. Instead we went to the more respectable, grown-up place; where a teenager could act like a kid. We went to Bucky's Arcade and Games. Okay, so it wasn't entirely respectable, but at least it was fun. And we all needed a little fun that Friday night.

Justin and Kate had cozied up back in the dark recesses of the eating area. Apparently games of chance were not on the forefront of their minds that night. Meanwhile, Tiffany and I were entrenched in a battle to the end at air hockey. It felt good to let off a little steam, and aggressively go at each other, without actually going at each other. I didn't want to fight with Tiffany anymore. Playing a competitive game against her felt like closure to our disagreement.

By the end of the night, we felt like friends again. I think we had been so caught up in playing the roles of boyfriend and girlfriend, that we missed the obvious friend part of the words. We both had too much pressure on us for thirteen year-olds. Tiffany was supposed to be the perfect little daughter for her parents. Her parents freaked out because she wasn't sure if she liked girls or boys. Truth be told, I think she enjoyed being with boys more.

On my side, I didn't even know if I wanted to be a boy or girl. Not only that, but I had two parents pulling me both ways. My mother seemed thrilled every time I went back to the girl side of the slide. While Tom continually tried to reel me in to the boy side of things. Technically he hadn't been doing that as of late, but then he really hadn't been there much as of late. Thinking about this, made me wonder what Tom was really up to tonight.

"Bam!" Tiffany said loudly, as she slammed the puck into my goal. "I win this round!"

"Good game," I said, a little distantly.

"Wanna go again?"

"Let's do something else," I said.

"You okay?" Tiffany asked, coming around the table.

"Just thinking about Tom," I said. "He left in a hurry today."

"And I hope he never comes back," Justin said, walking up behind me. His arm was hanging around Kate's shoulders like they'd just walked off the set of Grease. Somewhere deep inside I felt a twinge of jealousy at how close they'd become.

"That's not very nice," Kate said, bumping him with her elbow.

"Tom's an asshole," Justin said. "And a liar." He pointed his cola at me. "He's been lying to Bailey for months."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You really think he's okay with you dressing like a girl?" Justin asked, rhetorically. It caused a few kids next to us to smirk and walk away.

"Justin…" Kate said. "That was a little loud."

"Sorry," Justin said, though not directing it toward me. "Bailey, you should know the truth though."

"Not here," Kate said, turning her head in toward Justin.

"Nobody here cares," Justin said, pulling his arm away from her shoulders. "I'm surprised our entire town doesn't know the saga of Bailey Walker by now." He looked back at Kate. "I mean the football team knows. Most of our school knows."

Kate stepped back. She nervously brought her hand to her forehead, and turned away. Tiffany stepped over beside me, as Justin came closer. For a moment, Justin seemed to be contemplating on if he should say anything more. He glanced around the arcade, and back at Kate. She seemed to be bracing herself for a massive verbal onslaught.

"Just know that I'm not telling you this to hurt you," Justin said, turning to me. "I just think it's best that you know. So you can try to process what's been going on."

"Can we at least take this back to the car?" Kate asked, grabbing at Justin's sleeve.

"Look," Justin said. "I'm not trying to ruin the evening, or be a dick."

"Or cause a scene…" Kate mumbled.

"Tom and mom have been fighting over you a lot," Justin blurted out. "He is not okay with… basically anything you do. He never has been, and he never will be."

"That's not true," I said. "What about the whole moment he and I had on the stairs? About his son?"

"What?" Justin's head recoiled, and he showed a look of bewilderment. "Tom's never had a son. He's never had any kind of family before us." Justin shrugged. "If you wanna call what we have a family…"

"Why would he lie about that?" I asked. "It was like a life-altering thing."

"Hell if I know," Justin said. "He's a compulsive liar. He lies about where he goes, and what he does. Mom thinks he's seeing another woman. Hell… he even goes through your diary when you're not home."

"What?!"

"That is so not right," Tiffany said from beside me.

"He got it for you so he could spy on you," Justin said. "He still talks shit about you in front of me and his friends."

My heart sank in my chest. The look on Kate's face told me my own face had sunk with my heart. As much as I wanted to disbelieve everything Justin was saying, there was absolutely no reason for him to lie about this. There wasn't even a reason to bring it up, unless he thought it was extremely important that I know. Perhaps Tom's departure tonight had stirred something inside of Justin.

"Look at her," Kate said, pushing Justin to the side. "You have no idea of the meaning of subtle."

"She needs to know," Justin said.

"A little harsh though," Tiffany said, taking my hand.

"I'm not the enemy here," Justin said. "Tom is. He's been undermining anything and everything he possibly can to mess with Bailey's life. The only reason he acts okay with it, is so he doesn't have to hear it from mom. His words."

"Time and place," Kate said over her shoulder. "You're not the enemy, but I think you've had a bit too much Jack in your Coke." She turned back to face me. "Let's go back to the car."

Justin threw his hands up. "Come on," he said. "It's only eleven."

"Crap!" Kate said. "Is it that late?"

"What's the problem?" Justin asked. "We stay out til almost one every weekend."

"Yeah…" Kate said. "But Tiffany's curfew is eleven." She pushed past Justin. "I gotta call home."

"We should call too," I said, quietly.

"Let's just go," Justin said, rolling his eyes. "Tom's not gonna be there to bust our balls."

Stars twinkled in the nearly cloudless sky. The street lights flickered. Tiffany smiled when I glanced at her. She casually took my hand and held it firmly. Justin and Kate were playfully arguing about a song on the radio. All seemed to be right in our strange little world, despite the revelations of Tom that Justin had brought to light. We turned up our street. Flashing lights, red and blue, greeted us as we drew closer to our house. I figured our neighbors across the street had finally done the unthinkable.

"Crap!" Kate said. "Did you dump that drink?"

"Yeah," Justin said, sitting up straighter. "It's gone."

"And the bottle?"

"Gone."

"What's going on?" I asked, leaning up to look between the seats.

Then I noticed that our house was the central focus of the police. Kate pulled over to the side of the street. A police officer, perhaps in his early forties, slowly walked toward our car, waving for us to go on. Kate stopped the car. My brother opened the door, and jumped out. This caused the officer to take a step back. He looked to be a little on edge.

"Young man," he said. "You can't be here."

"I live here," Justin said. "What's going on?"

The officer held up his index finger, and turned his head to the radio on his shoulder. "I have one of the boys." He looked down in the car, and then back up at Justin. "Where's your brother?"

Justin took a deep breath. "He's in the car too," he said reluctantly. "In the back."

The officer leaned down again. His eyebrow raised inquisitively. Then he held up his hand and motioned for me to get out. I turned to Tiffany for a brief moment, and squeezed her hand. It was the only thing I could think of to signify that I would be alright. Then I moved to get out of the car. Tiffany followed suit, causing Kate to react and open her door.

As I removed myself from the car, the officer stopped Tiffany and Kate. "I just need the two that live here. You two should go home."

"What's going on here?" Kate said, standing up outside of the car. "Are they in trouble?"

"Please," the officer said. "Return to your vehicle and move along."

"It's okay," Justin said, giving Kate a reassuring smile. "It's late. You two should probably get home."

Kate looked ready to protest, but a nod from Justin caused her to slowly get back into the car. Tiffany hurried around the car, throwing her hands around me. I responded in kind, and held her for a moment. Then she pulled back slightly. Her lips pressed against my cheek, but were quickly gone. After one final look into my eyes, she pulled away and walked back around the car to get in. Both girls waved solemnly and drove off down the street.

"Call me," Kate shouted back at Justin.

"I need you two to come inside now," the officer said behind me.

"What's the problem?" Justin asked.

The officer looked back and forth at us. "Inside." He held up his hand toward our house.

"Where have you two been?"

Our mom came rushing across the living room as we reached the top of the stairs. She threw her arms around me, pulling me in tight. Her hand clenched my hair for a short while, and then she pulled away. I watched her reach up and tug at Justin's shirt. Then she stepped back to look at both of us.

"I thought something had happened to you," she said.

"Justin said he left a note," I said, looking over at my brother.

"Yeah…" Justin said, rubbing his neck. "I might've forgotten to do that…"

"We'll talk about that later," Mom said. "And why you smell like alcohol." She leered at Justin for a moment. "I'm just glad you're both okay. I thought the worst."

"What's going on?" I asked, looking around at all of the police in our house. "Did you call the police on us?"

"No," Mom said, swallowing hard. "They're looking for Tom."

"Why?" Justin asked.

"I saw Bailey's room like that…" Mom said. "And then my room. Nobody was home… When the police showed up looking for Tom…" She hugged us both again. "I thought he'd run off with you two."

"We're fine," Justin said.

The officer from outside walked up to us. "They need to talk to you some more," he said to our mother.

Our mother turned to us. "Why don't you two go to your rooms?" She smiled assuredly. "It's been a long night."

I stepped into my room. My eyes were instantly drawn to the chaos, which occurred earlier that day. Strewn across the floor were various articles of clothing, and it nearly looked like my closet exploded. I imagined my closet to be a giant space alien. It's guts were tossed about my room, sticking to my bed, my floor, and even my chair. A sigh escaped me as I remembered wanting to talk to my mother.

"Zachary?" A female's voice came from behind me.

I turned to face the woman standing in my doorway. Her somewhat small frame had been hidden deceitfully well behind a stylish navy blue suit. It made her appear more masculine and slightly more intimidating. The three inch heels sent her towering over me, and nearly matched her in height to the gruff man walking in behind her.

"I go by Bailey now," I said, sheepishly.

"Bailey then." The woman extended her well-manicured hand, and I took it in mine. "My name is Lauren Knox. I'm an agent with the FBI." The brief handshake concluded, with her turning to gesture to the man behind her. "This is Detective Banks."

"Jeff."

The man pushed past her to shake my hand as well. He looked as though he hadn't shaved in a few days. His hand was rough, matching the firmness of his handshake. Sporting jeans and a t-shirt, he hardly looked professional. His badge hung crooked on his belt, as if it were a second thought.

"Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" Agent Knox asked.

I studied her for a moment. "Is this about Tom?"

"It is," she said. "Would you like to sit?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Is Tom in trouble?"

"Right now we're just trying to locate him," Agent Knox said. "We have a few questions to ask him as well."

Jeff leaned against the doorframe. His arms folded across his chest. I wasn't sure if he would be part of discussion, or if he would jump in and play bad cop soon.

"When was the last time you saw Tom?" Agent Knox asked, drawing my attention back to her.

"This afternoon," I said.

"Here at the house?"

"Yes," I said. "He came home. Asked me to water our dog, and then he left shortly after that."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No." I shook my head, watching her jot something in her little pad. It reminded me of Rajan taking notes at our meetings.

"Did he take anything with him?"

"He had a box," I said, remembering the incident with him in the hallway.

"What kind of box?"

"One of those brown cardboard boxes with the lid," I said. "Only the lid was off, and it was filled with a bunch of envelopes."

Jeff stood up straight. "What kind of envelopes?"

"Like the big envelopes," I said, gesturing the size with my hands. "They all looked stuffed pretty full."

Jeff nodded. "Did you see what was inside any of them?"

"No," I said. "Sorry."

"No problem." Jeff's brow furrowed. "Does Tom own any fire arms?"

"Just hunting rifles," I said.

"Excuse me for a minute," Jeff said, more to Agent Knox. He quickly turned out of the room, and walked away down the hall.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We're not sure yet," Agent Knox said. "Right now, we're just interested in talking to Tom. He's a person of interest."

"I don't understand," I said. "He's run off before, but he came back…"

"When was this?" Agent Knox asked.

"Thanksgiving," I said. "He got mad at me dressing like a girl, and blew up before dinner."

Lauren glanced out into the hallway. She waved in a female uniformed officer. I started getting a little nervous, thinking I had said something wrong. I wondered if I had given them some kind of information that incriminated Tom, or even worse myself. Then Lauren whispered something to the officer. The officer nodded and walked away. Lauren stepped over closer to me, looking me over.

"You said Tom lost his temper?" she asked.

"He punched a hole in the wall," I said.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head hard. "He's never hurt me."

"Has he ever hit your brother or your mother?" Agent Knox asked.

I shook my head again. "He's never hit any of us," I said. "He just hits… things."

"I see," Agent Knox said, writing again in her pad. "Could I ask you a few more personal questions?"

"I… I guess," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

"You don't have to answer," Agent Knox said. "I want you to know you can trust me. I'm not out to get you." She winked. Then she glanced around the room at my discarded clothing.

"It's about how I'm dressed isn't it?"

"I simply want to know if it's by choice," Agent Knox said, bringing her focus back to me.

"Yes," I said, a bit relieved.

"So nobody is forcing you?"

I thought back for a moment to when this all started. Tom had very forcefully made me dress as a girl. It was deemed as some sort of punishment by him. Had it been humiliating at the time? Yes, but it only awakened deeper feelings that I never knew existed. In a way, this cosmic accident had actually enlightened me to the point where I had nearly accepted myself as a female. Was that by choice? Or had Tom actually scarred me emotionally, by forcing me into something I perhaps wasn't ever intended to stumble upon?

"No," I said.

Speaking in relative terms, nobody at that time was forcing me to dress like a girl. Nobody had forced me to like it. Sure, Tom had forced me to wear panties in the beginning. But he never forced me to put Tiffany's attire on the day after. Or to put on her swimsuit for the pool party. He never forced me to model as a girl at 'Tweens. In fact, had he known any of that, he would've been strongly opposed to the situations. Those were all choices I had made.

"No," I repeated. "Nobody is forcing me…"

That's when I felt it. A familiar sharp pain stabbed at my lower abdomen. My body instinctively crumpled. I reached for the area, and felt another blinding shock of pain course through. From somewhere distant I heard a groan. It had to be me. This is what I felt before. It all came back to me instantly. When I passed out at Nathan's house. When I fell in the bathroom. Both times it had started with this intense pain. My eyes filled with tears as I looked up toward a very worried Agent Knox.

"Help…"

And then there was darkness…

And then there was light. Daylight peaked through the blinds of an unfamiliar window. In the distance I could hear electronic beeping, and chatter. There was the distinct sound of an ambulance for a short moment, and then it was gone. I felt groggy. Looking down toward my feet I could see nothing but a sea of light blue. Then I saw the tubes coming out of my left arm.

"A hospital?" I managed to choke out of my parched mouth.

As if on cue, a bubbly, stout nurse burst into the room. She had a stack of sheets in her hand. Seeing me awake, she smiled, set the sheets down, then came over to my side.

"Well good morning," her cheerful voice filled the room like a gunshot in a barrel. "You slept right through the night." She reached up to check a bag of clear liquid on a pole. "Are you in any pain at all?"

"I'm a little thirsty," I said.

"Well I'll get you some ice chips," the nurse said. "I'll go tell the doctor that you're awake."

"Is my mom here?"

The nurse gave me a sympathetic, almost awkward look. "She's not here at the moment, but I'm sure she'll be back." Then she smiled. "I'll be right back." She quickly waltzed over to the door, nearly knocking over someone outside in the process. "Oh good, you're here. He's awake now."

"Aunt Kim?" I asked, seeing her walk into the room.

"Hi Bailey," my aunt said, as she hurried over to hug me.

I had barely sat up in the bed, and had time to get one arm around her before she pulled away. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Where's my mom at?"

"Bailey…" she started to say.

A male voice bounced off the walls and ceiling. "Bailey! Good to see you're awake."

"Doctor Thompson," Aunt Kim said quietly, as she moved away.

"You've had a rough couple of nights," Dr. Thompson said.

"Couple of nights?" I asked. "Why am I here? Where's my mom?"

Doctor Thompson closed the door behind him, and then strolled over to sit upon the windowsill. He was a younger doctor, perhaps in his thirties. His blond hair glimmered slightly in the sunlight. Then he revealed his goofy smile. It seemed like it came straight from the reject pile of a toothpaste commercial. Basically he was that quintessential doctor, on that show, that all the women wanted to be with. Only beneath it all, you could tell he was an absolute geek; Screech with Zack's looks.

"I know you have a lot of questions," Dr. Thompson said. "And I'm going to try my best to answer them." He folded his arms across his chest. "Hopefully I can make this ordeal as painless as possible for you."

"What ordeal?" I asked, pushing myself up in bed.

"Right to business," Dr. Thompson said.

"Probably best that we do it that way," my aunt said.

"Bailey…" Doctor Thompson looked at me thoughtfully. "When you came into the emergency room, the EMT's said you were suffering from acute pain to the lower abdominal area." He paused as if expecting me to recall the situation. Then he gestured to the area on his own body for added effect. "Well… when we learned about your medical history, and started to address the issue, we found a much more serious issue."

I smirked slightly. "You found out I was really a boy under the skirt?"

Doctor Thompson smiled at my remark. "Well I think we all knew that from the start," he said. "But no, that wasn't the issue." He took a moment to compose himself again. "We discovered an untreated case of testicular torsion. From my best guess, it occurred from an injury several months ago. I'd say in the summer."

"Wait…" I said. "What is that?"

"Testicular torsion," Dr. Thompson said. "It's when the cord, which supplies blood to the testes, is twisted and the blood supply is cut off." As he made the twisting motion with his hands, it made me cringe. "It would have been a sharp pain, much like the one you felt before arriving here."

"That…" I suddenly recalled the painful interaction with Tiffany at the pool party. "That happened almost a year ago." I looked up at Doctor Thompson. "Doctor Dinesh said I was fine."

"Well you might have been if it untwisted on it's own," Dr. Thompson said. "If there was no pain present at the time, or if the pain had subsided by the time you saw the other doctor, it might have gone unnoticed. And if the damage had already been done, the area might have been pain free after the fact, or perhaps a slight dull pain for a few hours to a few days."

"What does that have to do with now?" I asked. "What damage? Is that what caused the pain this time?"

"Bailey…" My aunt placed her hand on my arm.

"Your case was unusual, Bailey," Dr. Thompson said. "There were some complications. Not only from the torsion, but from the medications you've been receiving." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "You see the torsion never corrected itself. It did, in fact, cause damage after going unchecked. We found one of your testes already in a state of atrophy. It was basically dead from lack of blood flow."

I pushed myself up in the bed some more. "What are you saying?"

"As I said," Dr. Thompson said. "There were complications. If that had been where the pain originated from…" He straightened. "I'm getting ahead of myself. I apologize if this isn't as delicate as I was hoping to deliver it. I've never had to deliver this kind of news to someone so young."

"Doctor, please," my aunt said.

"Could you please just tell me?" I asked. "I don't like suspense." I felt my aunt's hand on my arm. She was slowly and methodically rubbing it gently up and down.

"Sorry. I understand," Dr. Thompson said. "In that case… Bailey… Your former practitioner has been giving you toxic, not to mention illegal, amounts of medication. It may have even been intentional, but we're unsure at this time. This in turn caused a mass to form on the spermatic cord, which we think was the main cause of the pain you've been experiencing. I believe you said it was for the past few months. Unfortunately the mass we discovered was on the healthy side. The side where the atrophy had not occurred."

I nodded thoughtfully, trying to piece together what the doctor had said. "So you removed this mass and fixed me?"

Doctor Thompson cleared his throat. He glanced at my aunt, and then turned his full attention towards me. "Bailey," he said, sounding even more sincere than I thought possible. "In such cases as these, the general practice is to perform preventative measures. To ensure that, if indeed the mass we encountered was cancerous, that the cancer doesn't spread."

"Your mother thought it would be for the best," my aunt said next to me. "To keep you healthy. So you could have the best chance."

I looked at my aunt. Her eyes were watery. "Chance at what?" I asked. Still not understanding, I looked back to the doctor.

Doctor Thompson looked at me solemnly. "I'm sorry to say this," Dr. Thompson said. "If we were able to save one of them we would have. But unfortunately we had to perform a bilateral inguinal orchiectomy."

"Doctor…" my aunt said, with a slight scolding in her voice. "Non-medical terms…"

"What I'm trying to say," Dr. Thompson said. "Is we had to remove both of your testes. The one that was atrophied could not be saved. And the other we removed for preventative measures, as well as addressing the fits of pain you've been having."

"What!?" I started to kick at the sheets, determined to see if this was some cruel sick joke. "You did what?"

"Bailey!" My aunt tried to hold me down. "Calm down. You'll tear the stitches."

"No," Dr. Thompson said. "Don't restrain him. Bailey… Bailey!" His second calling of my name got my attention. "Perhaps you would like a little privacy?" He gestured to the bathroom. The calmness in his voice made me slightly calm in return.

I started to get up, but my aunt stopped me. "I'll help you," she said, calmly. "You still have the IV in your arm."

I nodded.

My aunt helped me sit up. She slid the covers off of me, and helped me retain some kind of dignity with my robe. The doctor stepped over to the bathroom door. I slipped on a pair of slippers I had never seen before, and tried to stand. Suddenly I could feel a weird sensation in my groin. It felt heavy, yet numb at the same time. With my aunt's help I managed to make it into the bathroom, leaving a crack in the door as it closed.

Doctor Thompson's voice came from the other side of the door. "You're going to have to stay here for a couple of days. We have a few tests to run."

"Your mother should be here as soon as the police are finished with her," my aunt said. "And she'll bring your brother down."

Their voices seemed like distant, muffled nonsense. I could barely grasp the situation at hand, let alone what my aunt was saying about police. I pulled my gown off of my right side, letting it hang off my left shoulder. As I inspected the strange dressing on my lower abdomen, Doctor Thompson continued to talk about abnormal drug cocktails, and legal matters I didn't quite understand. He mentioned once again that the drugs I had been receiving were dangerous in methods and amounts. He mentioned risks of cancer, and the preventative steps they had to make, and how they all hoped I would understand.

I didn't understand. How could I understand? I'd just been dealt the run-down of a life-altering surgery, and the worst explanation as to why it happened. Was this doctor new? Nothing in the world could have prepared me for this change. Not even the lengthiest discussion in Rajan's office. He had said there could be surgeries in the future. I didn't expect the future to be so soon, and without choices. He had always said there would be choices; much, much later.

My fingers traced around the medical tape and gauze on my abdomen. The area below that felt numb and strange. For a moment I closed my eyes, trying to recognize this feeling. It felt unreal, like nothing I had felt before. My fingers moved down further, as my body prepared for the shock I would undoubtedly feel. But I felt nothing. I felt skin… and nothing. It felt like emptiness. My eyes sprang open.

I reached up, pulling my gown back over me. A single tear rolled down my cheek, but my mind couldn't process why at that moment. Maybe I shed a tear for what I had lost. Maybe the tear was for something else entirely. I tied my gown in the back. Looking into the mirror, I saw my hand reach up and wipe the tear away. It felt like someone else had done it, perhaps the girl in the mirror. She flashed a half-hearted smile at me, and a nod. Maybe one day I'll catch her; that elusive girl in the mirror.

I stepped out of the bathroom several minutes later. First I glanced at aunt Kimberly, and then at the doctor. "What's next?" I asked.

---

 
 
This concludes the Seasons of Bailey series, but Bailey will return.