Synopsis:

The school is having a fifties style sock hop, and is awarding prizes for the best costumes. Peaches’ costume is a poodle skirt with all the trimmings. What will Mel’s old boyfriend think of Peaches’ new look? Can things get more complicated?

Story:

Part 4

Reminder to readers: The name after the chapter number tells you who is narrating that chapter.

Chapter Nineteen — Peaches
September 12th, Friday, the Sock Hop

“I can’t do this,” I said. “I can’t go through with it.”

“I don’t understand, Peaches,” Mel said. “You didn’t seem to have any problem last week. You’ve been doing so well with the female body language.”

Mom was already at the Women’s Club. Mr. G had picked her up a few minutes ago to help him chaperone the dance.

In fifteen minutes I was supposed to go to a dance, full of students from Maple Ridge High School, dressed from head to toe as a girl. I was having an anxiety attack. My breath was labored. I was sweating and having trouble focusing my thoughts. My body wanted to run away to someplace safe.

“Last week was here in my house, with people I love and respect,” I said. “It wasn’t easy last week, but I knew you would all be polite and understanding about it.”

“The kids in school have been fine to you for the past few weeks,” Mel said. They had. Most had been very helpful after the Cassie Lee convocation, but I wasn’t wearing make-up in school, or perfume, or nylon stockings!

The doorbell rang; Mrs. Pryce had been waiting in the car. Mel was picking me up as her date. “Is there a problem, Melinda?” Mrs. Pryce asked.

“Peaches is losing his nerve.”

“Oh, nonsense. Come on. The dance will be starting.”

“Mrs. Pryce, you don’t think I’m making a big mistake, do you?” I had no reason not to trust Mel’s mom.

“You look gorgeous, Peaches. Come on; the dance will be starting.”

I wasn’t wild about Mrs. Pryce telling me I looked ‘gorgeous’, but after the night I spent at her house and everything she’d done for me, I couldn’t tell her that.

“Peaches, I think you and Melinda should go to this dance. I think you should try your hardest tonight to be the girl we all know you can be ... and win that prize.”

There was something about the way she said it that didn’t seem right.

“If you don’t want to go,” Mel said, “I’ll understand. We can back off from our project for a few days, or weeks, or we can end it right here. We’ve already got enough for our report. It’s your call.”

We had lots of notes. From the first day we had decided to reverse roles, Mel had asked me to concentrate on observing the way girls and boys in our school acted. My notebook was always with me. I looked for differences in the way girls and guys stood, walked, talked, sat, smiled, laughed, joked, and other things. It was incredible how many differences there were between boys and girls, besides the way they dressed and the physical differences in their bodies. We had added in some of those differences to our role reversal as we went along. I was using a lot of modifiers, as well as words like cute, exquisite, adorable, sweet, and darling.

Our plan had been to add the differences I noted to my act. I had already started to sit like a girl, looking for my seat before I put my bottom into a chair. Guys plop ... girls glide into a chair with visual contact to know where they will land.

“Peaches,” Mrs. Pryce said, “you’re being foolish. You should go and have a good time. This will be a night you’ll never forget.”

Mel was a person who wanted spice in her life. I was a hobbit. Mel had bought a white carnation for me. I had already pinned a pink carnation on her.

“Okay, I’ll go.” I said. “If things go bad, I’ll run out of there like Cinderella leaving the ball at midnight.”

“If you do,” Mel said. “I’ll search the kingdom looking for the perfect fit for a size five saddle shoe.”

***
The Women’s Club was decorated in red and white. Hanging from the center of the room was a big, spinning globe covered with small reflective mirrors. There were several spotlights focused on the globe, raining sparkling light throughout the room.

Mel paid for our tickets at the door. As we walked in, the DJ was playing the Prudence and Patience song, “Tonight You Belong to Me.” Mel checked my wrap. Mel’s mom had given me a shawl to wear, “just in case.” She had also made me take a huge white purse with straps. I carried it on my arm. It was filled with the cosmetics I would need to redo my face.

The word had gotten out that I would be dressed completely as a girl. All day long at school, people had been telling me they couldn’t wait to see what I looked like as a girl. Every once in a while, I would catch someone eyeballing me, but they stared in a way that was okay. I put a big supply of bubblegum in my mouth and surprised Mel by blowing big bubbles while she twirled us around the floor.

Mom and Mr. G were keeping the punchbowl under close watch. A school not far from us once had an incident where somebody spiked the punch with Ecstasy. They attempted to turn the school dance into a rave. The chaperones noticed several girls having chills and perspiring. According to the newspaper story, those symptoms were combined with rapid eye movements, involuntary teeth clenching, and complaints of faintness. The school officials suspected the punch and removed it. They shut the doors to the dance, not allowing anyone to leave, and called the parents to come to the school to pick up their sons and daughters.

A repeat of that wasn’t going to happen on Mom’s watch.

Judy was dancing with Wayne and lighting up the gym with her smile. Wayne looked as happy as I had ever seen him. Judy had a poodle skirt. Mrs. Pryce must have helped her find a costume.
LeighAnn was dancing with Russell, a junior football player. Zack was sitting by himself at a table. As the evening went on, I saw Zack talking a lot to the guy playing records. LeighAnn danced with nearly every senior football player.

Mel and I dominated the floor when we got a chance to jitterbug. No one else had taken the time to learn the steps. Everyone watched us and copied what we were doing. The girls copied me and the guys copied Mel. Mel twirled and tossed me while keeping her movements fairly simple.

My favorite dances were the slow dances with Mel. Mel is an oldies fanatic and sang a belated birthday song in my ear as she led me around the floor.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, baby. Oh, I love you so.
Sixteen candles, make a lovely light.
But not as bright, as your eyes tonight. (oh)
Blow out the candles, make your wish come true.
For I’ll be wishing, that you love me too. (oh)

You’re only sixteen. But you’re my teenage queen.
You’re the prettiest, loveliest girl I’ve ever seen.

I felt like the prettiest, loveliest girl Mel had ever seen, especially when she dipped me at the end of every slow dance and looked into my eyes. I could have melted.

Tired after about ten songs, Mel and I sat with Mr. G and Mom for a few minutes.

“It’s too bad Mouse didn’t come,” I said. “It’s a shame the guy playing the records doesn’t let Zack take over for him.”

“Wouldn’t it be great to have a place where kids could do their own thing?” Melinda said. “A place where we could decide how we want to spend our time when we’re not in school?”

Toward the end of the evening, Mel and I were making our way back to our table when someone grabbed my arm.

“Nice dancing, fruitcake.”

I turned. Cassie was standing there with Rich. He was looking to start a fight, and there was no way out of it.

“Cassie,” Mel said. “You had better get your guy under control. The team needs him to play quarterback next week. If he gets in trouble, he’ll be suspended.”

A light went on in Rich’s head. Coach Ratzlaff wouldn’t think twice about suspending him for a fight. He sat down in a chair and said, “Stay away from me, you little squirrel. You make me sick.”

Cassie slapped him in the arm with her purse, “Richie, be quiet.” Rich looked like a flat tire as he got up and walked away.

We won first prize in the costume contest; dinner for two at the Century House. Mel agreed to give the prize to Mr. G and Mom for teaching us how to dance.

I felt as if I had been in a time warp. One minute I was walking into the gym, nervously waiting for the dance to begin. The next moment we were standing on my step kissing goodnight, as Mrs. Pryce waited impatiently in her car for Mel.

I didn’t want the night to end. I had had so much fun as a girl. After taking off the costume and cleaning the make up off my face, I just couldn’t stand the thought of it all being over. Before I even thought about it, I had slipped on a pair of panties and the baby doll nightie. I rubbed overnight cream on my face and got under my covers to call Mel.

“I had a magnificent time, Mel,” I said. “Wasn’t it the best?”

“It was wonderful,” Mel said. “That was the first dance I’ve ever really enjoyed. It’s too bad Mouse didn’t go. She said there’s only two things to do at a dance ... one is to dance and the other is to sit around and look like a loser. She said that, without a date, she wouldn’t be dancing.”

“It would be great if there were other things to do at the dances. Did you miss the chance to get dressed like I had been?” I asked.

“No,” Mel said. “Mom had me wearing those all the time when I was little. I don’t miss them. Peaches, you sound different. Your voice is sort of sexy. I like listening to you when you sound like this. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I can’t hide anything from you,” I said. “For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to wear a nightgown to bed tonight. Do you think that’s weird?”

“Only if you think I’m weird,” Mel said. “I wear one to bed quite often. Do you feel sexy, Peaches?”

“Yes.” I would have loved to have been lying next to Melinda right then. I could imagine her reaching inside my nightie and touching my breasts. “Mel, if you were here, would you be fondling my breasts?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to do that, Peaches,” Mel said. “I would love to caress your breasts, if that’s what you want.”

I hung up but was unable to get to sleep. After thirty minutes of tossing and turning, I realized I hadn’t said “Olive juice” to Mel. I called her again.

“Hi, Peaches,” Mel’s mom answered Mel’s phone. “Melinda’s already asleep. You two must have had quite the night.”

“It was great, Mrs. Pryce. The best.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad this has worked out for you. I know how important it is to Melinda to win the project contest.”

“It sure is.”

“I was worried last summer that the project had become an obsession for her. When Melinda told me she was going to find the ideal boy to turn into her little girlfriend, I just didn’t think it was right. I didn’t think any boy would agree to do such a thing, but it sure seems to have worked for you two.”

~Last summer? — Ideal boy to turn into her little girlfriend?~

“Uh yeah, okay ... good night, Mrs. Pryce.”

I tossed and turned most of the night. Mrs. Pryce must have been mistaken. Our project had been mostly my idea, hadn’t it? Mel hadn’t used me — had she?

Chapter Twenty — Mouse
9/13 Saturday

Last night, I had curled up with my good friend Henry. Henry David Thoreau. He has the unique ability to help me push back when the world encroaches too heartily on what I like to think is my space.

He spoke to me of my true love, “In wilderness is the preservation of the world.” Can there be truer words? Our founding fathers carried the European tradition of using land as an expendable resource into our country. The whole theory of manifest destiny was a continuation of Jefferson and his fellow leaders’ lack of respect for the environment. I fell asleep wondering how Jefferson could be so brilliant, how he could have been so interested in nature as to instruct Meriwether Lewis to log the flora and fauna of the West; and yet be such a pig when it came to his stewardship of earth.

When I woke, Thoreau was there again to guide me, ‘To regret deeply is to live afresh.’ My day started with a wish that I hadn’t been so pig-headed about going to the dance. I would probably never get another chance to see Peaches in a skirt. I couldn’t wait to talk to Peaches to see what happened.

If my suspicions were correct, last night might have been the last time I would have gotten to see Zack with ... LeighAnn. Ohhh! That girl gave me a pain. I decided to take things into my own hands. I placed a call to LeighAnn.

“Good morning,” I said. “Is LeighAnn there? I’ll hold.... LeighAnn? Hi. This is Mouse. Fine. Fine. No, I’m okay. No. I’m not sick. I didn’t want to go, that’s why.” I was beginning to regret calling her. I thought about Zack crawling all over that ravine on my behalf and swallowed the bile in my throat. “LeighAnn, how’s about you and I going to a movie tonight. — Yes, the two of us. — Why should Zack care? — Yes, Zack knows I like you. Is it a date? — I’ll be by your house at six. — No, I don’t care what you wear. I’ll be in jeans and a flannel shirt. — Yes, I guess so, dressed as a guy. See you then, LeighAnn.”

Sometimes I didn’t understand southern speak at all. LeighAnn had ended the conversation by saying she was getting turned on just thinking about our date. I wondered what that meant south of the Mason/Dixon Line?

Mom had left the fixings for oatmeal on the stove for me to heat. She was already throwing pots in her studio. I bolted through breakfast and threw on a jacket to stave off the chill of what had started to be a blustery fall day. My jacket was lined denim with a corduroy collar. It was too much jacket, but I like the secure weight of it. It let me know I was ready for whatever came my way.

I was at Peaches’ house in seconds. When he opened the door, I almost thought it was his mom, who I knew would be working on a Saturday morning. Saturday was prime time at the library, with all the little kids coming in for the morning story hour.

“Peaches, what are you doing?”

He was standing there dressed in a chic ivory stretch silk blouse. I could have bought four flannel shirts for what that blouse cost. It was lovely, but it wasn’t anything I would wear, or Peaches should wear. His slacks were black; silk and rayon. You could see nylons poking out from under the slacks, looking totally appropriate with those two-inch heels on his pumps. His gold and pearl earrings matched his locket, and his face was covered with more make up than the total aggregate amount I had ever worn. Standing in the middle of his living room like nothing was wrong; he held hands in front of him with his fingers spread, drying his nails!

“I’m getting ready to go over to Mel’s house,” he said. “Mrs. Pryce will be there, and I want to let her know I appreciate what she gave to me.”

“I thought you were going to just keep that stuff on hangers in your closet until you were done with your research?”

“I thought it over and decided that would be rude,” he answered.

“Peaches,” I said, “you and I are close friends.” He nodded. His locket bobbed daintily against his cleavage. “Even as close friends, there are certain things we don’t tell each other.” Again he nodded. I caught a whiff of his scent. It wasn’t what he had been given by Melinda on his birthday. That perfume was all female. I wondered if he had borrowed some from his mom. He smelled delicious. “If you don’t want to answer what I’m going to ask you, I’ll understand and won’t ask again. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peaches said. He shrugged, as if to tell me he couldn’t imagine not being totally forthright with me. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine him not being forthcoming. Not like me, all locked away in my personal closet.

“Peaches, do you like dressing in girl’s clothing?”

“I like women’s clothing better,” he said. “Mel’s cheerleading sweater isn’t really something I like to wear.”

~I was prepared for honesty, not brutal honesty.~

“You’re happy dressed as you are?”

“Yes,” he answered. “At first, I didn’t like it when Mrs. Pryce had me put on a dress, but after a bit I started to feel very comfortable.”

Peaches had told me about his Friday evening with Mrs. Pryce and Melinda. It sounded like fun the way he had told it before. He had me laughing, as he always did, but the way he said it now put it in a different light.

“Does Mrs. Pryce expect you to come to her house dressed like you are?”

“I suppose so,” he said. “Why else would she have given me all that she has?”

He tested his fingers and found them dry enough to put his hands to his hair and fluff it. I hadn’t realized how feminine his hair was looking. Peaches had helped me dig out a tree stump in our backyard less than two weeks ago. The Peaches that was sitting with his legs crossed and elegantly tilted to the side, didn’t seem likely to do that sort of yard work.

“Peaches? Are you a transvestite?”

“You mean like on Jerry Springer?”

“Yes, are you a male who wants to dress as a female?”

“I suppose I am, under that definition.” He looked thoughtful, but not offended in the least. “I never thought about it that way. The school counselor asked a lot of questions that sort of ‘skirted’ that issue.” He winked when he said “skirted.” Male or female, his sense of humor was intact. “I’ve been playing this role at school for my project.” When he said “this role” he swept his hand across himself. “When you’re playing a part, you can never keep it up unless you convince yourself you are it.”

“Is that what you’re doing today, Peaches? Are you playing a part?”

Peaches has been my friend for years. He’s a strong-willed person. Yet I could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It was clear he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. He smiled and patted my hand to make me feel better. He was clearly distressed, yet he was concerned about my feelings.

“I can’t really say, Mouse,” he said. “Part of me is playing a role, that’s for sure, but there’s another part of me that wants to dress like this, be like this; role or no role.”

My parents are the kind of hippies that didn’t buy into the huggy / touchy / feely thing. At times when their friends drop over, it was painful to see them cringe when their friends demanded an embrace. I would have loved to give Peaches a reassuring squeeze. As strange as he seemed with his lipstick and lacy bra (which you could plainly see through his opaque blouse), I still loved him very much.

“Peaches, I think you and I need to do some research about men who wear women’s clothing.”

“I don’t think I want to go to the library dressed like this. Besides, Melinda will be here in about two hours to get me.”

“I was thinking we would go online,” I said. Peaches’ mom had never put parental controls on his internet access. Neither had mine. It was nice to have their trust, and also handy.

For the next two hours we surfed sites. We developed a vocabulary that included transvestite, cross-dresser, transsexual, and many other terms that, before that morning, were foreign, or only slightly known to us.

Peaches held up well. There was a lot of conflicting information, and it appeared we had barely scratched the surface. I would certainly do more online study on my own. Nevertheless, there was a certain piece of information that left us both confused, and maybe a little depressed.

Many of the sites we visited talked of female domination. Forced feminization was a recurring theme in descriptions of “transgendered” fiction. It was blamed on several sites for the “condition” of several “she-males.”

I waited for Peaches to say something. I was forming a dark opinion of what might be transpiring. Peaches finally whispered, “Am I being dominated? Is Mel somehow forcing me to do this?”

I didn’t have an answer for him. Mel seemed genuine, but the pieces appeared to make an ugly puzzle. Peaches was such a wonderful guy, and he didn't deserve to be used or hurt for any reason.

I left Peaches, with him dismissing any thoughts of Mel being anything but the girl he loved. Peaches looked for the good without fail, until the evidence was overwhelming. Peaches and his mom were huggers.

***

Later that evening, LeighAnn and I were in the movie next to each other. She was weird. There’s not one thing that girl did or said that I understood. Zack ought to take his mind off her chest and take a good look at her!

She demanded that, since I had asked her out, I should pay. Then she wanted to share my popcorn. During the scary parts on the screen, she grabbed my thigh. What a baby! She even went so far as to hide her eyes in my chest. After the movie, all I wanted to do was ask her about Zack and then get away from her.

“Mousey,” she said. “My parents aren’t home. We could be alone.”

If I had to go to her house to ask her, I would. Mom gave us a ride to her house and LeighAnn made a bowl of popcorn for us. That was good, because she had spilled most of the popcorn in the movie across me and had taken forever to brush me off. I tried several times to talk about Zack, but she wanted to talk about us. I guess she wanted to bond.

She did look good. She dressed to emphasize every curve. I could see why Zack was nuts about her. He was nuts. You would have to be nuts to put up with her baby talk and her flickering eyelashes.

After she made the popcorn, she found something on TV for us to watch and excused herself. After about fifteen minutes, she came back in a negligee. She had also changed her make-up, putting more shadow around her eyes. How could she even move her eyelashes with all that mascara on them? She was trying to have a slumber party. Gawd! I had never gone to one of those and didn’t really want to start now.

She curled up on the coach next to me and picked at the popcorn. For every kernel she ate, she picked up and discarded five. Didn’t she ever see the Seinfeld episode about double-dipping?

“LeighAnn, I was wondering,” I said. “Zack and you, is that the real thing? Are you committed to him?”

“Don’t worry about Zack,” she said. She set the popcorn bowl on the floor and slid right up to me. Before I knew what was happening, she was kissing me. It wasn’t totally unpleasant. She had a soft body and very kissable lips.

“LeighAnn! Damnitalltohell!” I said, as I gently pushed her away.

“Don’t you like me?”

“Not really, and certainly not like that.”

“But, they told me at school that you like girls.”

~So much for keeping “it” a secret.~ I had never verbalized my sexual preference to anyone, not even Becky, the girl who I had had that crush on at camp. Nonetheless, I must have “told” everyone.

“Oh, I don’t care,” LeighAnn said. “I was just trying it out to see if it would be any fun. I don’t give a rip if you like me. Rich Betson is the one for me. Sooner or later, he’s going to get sick of seeing someone as hot as me with Zack. He’ll be calling. Just you see.”

I left LeighAnn’s house of horrors without the normal pleasantries at the door. She had given me a night of confusion and too much information. I wanted to run all the way to Zack’s house to warn him. I decided the best plan was to keep mum and stay close, to help him pick himself off the floor when she dropped him.

~What a day! Peaches comes out of the closet to me, and then LeighAnn “outs” me.~

Thoreau talked at length about living lives of quiet desperation. There's not much chance of anything being quiet in Maple Ridge.

Chapter Twenty-One — Melinda
9/19 Friday

Last summer at Aunt Belle's, I had been so lost. The plan I hatched had quickly evolved into a new lifestyle. Peaches and I expanded that germ of an idea far beyond anything I had imagined.

I had looked for a way to make my sophomore project a major achievement; thinking I could parlay that into a run at student council president next year. My 'safe relationship' scheme was almost an afterthought. I knew Peaches was a great guy, but who would have thought he was so hot!

Last Saturday evening was incredible. Peaches came over to my house late in the afternoon. We had planned to watch a video and make some caramels for the Pep Club to sell at school. The boys needed new football helmets and the Pep Club was selling candy all season long to help pay for them.

I was somewhat surprised at how he had been dressed. Dad was much more upset and looked like he was going to say something, when Mom jumped in.

“Peaches,” Mom said, “you look great. I'm so glad you're taking your project so seriously. You should have some interesting outcomes in the near future dressed like that.”

“I don't dress like this at school, Mrs. Pryce,” Peaches said.

“You should think about it,” Mom said. “Your project is important. Specious comments by the other boys shouldn't stand in your way.”

“You’re dressed like this for a school project?” Dad asked.

“Of course!” Mom said. “You don't think Melinda would be dating a transvestite, do you? Now get your coat, honey. We have to meet the Williams at the club in ten minutes. If we don’t get there at our reserved time, we’ll lose our spot. You know how crowded that place has got. When are they going to solve that permit thing and build a decent building?”

“When hell freezes over,” Dad said. “It will probably end up in a horrible legal battle.”

“There has to be a better way,” Peaches said.

Mom and Dad left us alone in the house. They wouldn't be back for hours.

Peaches seemed intent on starting a serious discussion, “Mel, did your Mom and you … ?” He looked at me.

I had a higher priority. I gave him a mammoth (and I hoped sexy) smile; thinking how I needed to get my hands on him.

“Did my mom and me what?”

“Oh, nothing. It was just a stupid idea I had, nothing important.”

I soon had Peaches stripped down to his bra and panties. I was intent on having my way with his penis, as I did the last time. There was something about the way it felt in my hand, and how I could make him feel that was intoxicating.

We had moved to my bedroom and were lying on my bed. I had also taken off all but my bra and panties. Peaches’ eyes darted from my face to my hand to my breasts. I reached behind and unhooked my bra. Peaches duplicated my actions. His breasts seemed even larger than what I had seen under his soaked t-shirt in the pool.

I laid on top of him, probing his mouth with my tongue. Putting my mouth to his ear and nibbling on his earring until it came loose. I made a mental note to ask him if he wanted to get his ears pierced. “Peaches, may I touch your breasts?”

“If I can touch yours.”

We knelt in bed, locking eyes, as we absorbed the contours of each other's body. Peaches was so gentle, so thoughtful and attentive.

We took turns licking and sucking on each other's nipples. I loved the way his velvet nipples strained to meet my tongue. My body cherished how his tongue sent shocks all the way from my areolas to my vagina.

As I played with him, I pressed my hips into him; dry humping. My body demanded more; I wanted his penis inside me. I reached in my nightstand's drawer for a condom I had bought on a dare, willing to set aside my personal age qualifications for sex.

“No, Melinda. We're not ready.”

“I'm as ready as I'll ever be,” I sighed.

“No. You wanted to wait until you're a senior. I don't want to be the one that makes you break that promise to yourself.”

“Ooohhh! You're right,” I said, “We can do other things.” I slipped the rubber back in the drawer for another two years. “Your penis looks like it really doesn't want to stop anymore than I do.”

“Uhmmmm,”

“Let's see if I can make your penis explode without actually touching it.”

I licked his body all over. At the same time, I rubbed him with both of my hands, wherever he might have an erogenous zone. Judging from his moans, I had found them. The head of his cock glistened, but I hadn't made him climax. I went back to 'work' on his tits. Kissing his tits was as much fun as playing with his penis. His body reacted to whatever I did. It was beautiful.

I was too inexperienced a lover to bring him off without using my hands directly on his penis. I finally decided I would have to milk him. He didn't seem to mind my shortcomings. Even though I had failed, he acted as if I had won the World Series with a bottom-of-the-ninth home run, as his penis shot come onto my sheets.

By rubbing against him, I was able to satisfy myself. Would Peaches ever want to use his tongue where it would do me the most good? We had so much to look forward to together.

******

We had played another Friday afternoon football game. Judy and Wayne were taking us along to a senior house party. The Corcoran’s was considered a safe home. Steve’s parents were always there, and they were intrusive enough to keep the drugs and alcohol away.

Unfortunately, for many of the kids away meant in their cars just down the street. They didn’t go out there to drink. They knew Mr. and Mrs. Corcoran would smell it on their breath and ask them to leave. Kids were smoking marijuana. It was local weed, but it supposedly would make you high. More than half the kids would come and go from the party to their four-wheeled marijuana dens to smoke up. At the other parties, nearly everyone was wasted, consuming whatever they desired on the premises.

On the way to the party, Peaches went off at me. I had corrected his choice of words; trying to give him a clearer girl image. It was the kind of minor adjustment I had suggested dozens of times over the past few weeks without him taking any offense. Something was wrong. I made a mental note to talk about it during our end-of-the-night phone conversation.

We had been at Steve’s for about an hour. Steve had made a mix of girl singers. Some of the deeper cuts were lame, but most of it was pretty sweet. Those kids who weren’t too messed up were decent to be around. Parties can be major trauma. They draw attention to the pecking order. The last thing anyone wants to do is make even a microscopic social blunder.

Peaches continued to be glacial toward me. I thought he was just anxious about being around all the older kids.

Three senior girls took me aside to ask some insider questions about what Peaches and I were doing. One of them said she wanted to go outside and asked if I wanted to come along. I went with them and was surprised when all of them pulled out cigarettes and lighters.

Patti asked me if I wanted one. I really didn’t. ~Oh why not?~ I had been putting myself at risk so much the past few weeks. What was one more walk on the wild side? Besides, being different was getting old and boring. The cigarette tasted horrible. There was no chance I was ever going to be hooked by that nasty habit, like my mother.

When I got back inside, all I wanted to do was find Peaches and hold him against me. I was addicted to him. He was standing with Beth Marie White looking mega-cute. He had his hands in his pockets, which looked strange, given the pants and blouse he was wearing. No one had said a word about the way he was dressed. Given everything that had happened, he probably could have walk around naked and not been openly criticized by many.

When I had told Peaches where we would be going tonight, he had asked me how he should dress. I told him it was informal. He took it from there. He did look nice in my mother's tan jeans. His blouse was quite a bit more feminine than anything I would wear. It was silk, which allowed you to see through to his bra. Mom had given him some frilly lingerie. I suppose she wanted him to experience the full array of womanhood. He was standing much more erect than he had been, which emphasized his developing breasts. The collar and cuffs of his blouse were extravagantly covered with bric-a-brac. I was surprised my mom even had a blouse like that. On Peaches, it looked quite suitable. His butt looked a little wide in those jeans, almost womanly. Still mega-cute!

Beth Marie had been one of the cheerleaders who had spoken against me with Cassie at the convocation. Since that day, she had been very supportive of what we were doing. She had just cut it off with her college boyfriend. That happened with senior girls, when they found out how much they missed out on when their boyfriends were two states away. Beth Marie and Peaches didn’t see me come up behind them.

“You’re so funny.” Beth Marie said. “My cheeks are hurting from laughing so much. Melinda is lucky to have a boyfriend as handsome and funny as you. I wish I had seen you first.”

~I’ll bet she does.~

“You won’t have any problem finding a new boyfriend,” Peaches said. “Everyone in school thinks you’re great. Any boy would enjoy being with you.”

~It’s obvious Beth Marie is testing the waters, but what’s Peaches doing?~

“I need some place to put my gum,” Beth Marie said. “It’s lost its flavor.”

Peaches stuck his hand in his front pants-pocket. “I’ve got just the thing for you. I invented it. It’s a portable hole. You just put the portable hole on the ground, toss your gum in it, pick up the hole and your gum is gone.”

“Really, Peaches?” Beth Marie smiled. She was smiling a little too much for my liking. “Like — you invented a portable hole? Aren’t you clever?”

“Yep, and I’ve got it right here in my pocket.” He dug around in his pocket as he went on. “It’s great for a lot of things, like planting seeds, or well-drilling, you can even turn it on its side — stretch it a little and throw it against a hill — and you’ve got an instant tunnel. If you haven’t read your assignment and the teacher’s looking for someone to call on, you just throw it on the floor and dive into it. There are a thousand uses.”

He pushed his hand farther into his pocket, so far that he was bent over and his hand was down inside his pant leg. When he finally quit fishing around, he pulled out his hand, “Damn.” He inverted his pocket, showing her that it had a big hole.

Beth Marie laughed and laughed her very attractive laugh. Peaches’ joke had been funny, but — get over it, Beth Marie. She was laughing so hard she just had to lean on Peaches for support.

~Okay. That was too much.~ I moved in and hugged Peaches around the waist from behind. I put as much tenderness into the hug as I felt appropriate in the middle of a party. My hug was as much for Beth Marie’s benefit as it was for Peaches’ and my pleasure.

“That’s a funny story, Peaches,” I said, into Peaches’ ear. “But a girl would never tell a joke like that. They don’t use the pockets in their jeans.”

“I’m NOT a girl,” Peaches said. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room. He pulled away from me.

“I know you’re not,” I said quietly.

“Do you?” His tone was stern. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, did I forget to leave big, bad Peaches a note?” I tried a little joking of my own.

“Not funny. You smell terrible. Have you been smoking?”

His voice was too loud and too accusatory for my liking.

“Yes. I tried a cigarette. Don’t get all weird on me; I’m not going to do it again.”

“You shouldn’t have done it the first time. Your breath smells rotten.”

His attitude sucked. About a dozen kids had circled us and were listening to every word. Maybe they thought Peaches and I were staging another event. Sometimes I cared too much what people thought of me. Sometimes I didn’t care enough about what those people closest to me thought or felt.

“Peaches, at times you can be a real wuss.” Wuss was the wrong thing to say to your boyfriend when he was dressed in your mother's clothes. I turned beet-red in recognition of my mistake. . “I’m sorry. You’re not a wuss,” I hurriedly said. “I didn’t mean it.” But I had. He had hurt me by what he said and by flirting with Beth Marie. I had wanted to hurt him. It was a childish thing to do.

“You meant it,” Peaches said. “You’ve been working hard to make me a wuss and you finally recognized what a great job you’ve done.”

“Peaches, you’re out of control.”

“Out of control? No, I’m out of here!”

He walked away from me. I thought I had better give him a chance to cool off for a few minutes, and then make a better apology. Some day I would learn to cook my words properly before I asked other people to swallow them. I was embarrassed, but my strongest emotion was fear; fear that I had hurt Peaches. I would make it right, after he chilled. I had never seen him angry before, especially not with me.

When I looked for Peaches, Steve told me he had seen him leave with Judy and Wayne. Steve said Wayne had asked him to make sure I got home okay. I was stranded at the party; miserable and dazed. Parties are really pathetic when you see them through eyes hurting from tears. Beth Marie apologized for coming on to Peaches, but it wasn’t her fault. I had overreacted. When the party finally broke up, Steve gave me a ride. He was with Cathy. I rode in the back, alone and unwanted.

*****

When I got home, Mom was waiting. I was fifteen minutes late for my curfew and in no mood to play the meek princess to the evil queen.

“You’re late. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m barely late, and my world is sewage.”

“What’s wrong, honey?” Mom was actually trying to be decent.

“Everything. I said something stupid and Peaches got mad.”

“Is that all?” Mom said. “Boys get mad all the time. It’s just like falling off a horse. The best thing you can do is go right out and find another one.”

“I don’t want just anyone. I want Peaches.”

“Are you sure? He isn’t the kind of boy you would ever marry.”

“Sure he is, Mom. He’s perfect for me.”

“You can’t be serious. What kind of breadwinner would he be? Do you really think he could be a hard-nosed businessman? He’s simply not suited to be the head of a household. He could never rule the roost.” She laughed, mocking me for thinking about Peaches as my husband.

It was too late to be totally civil, so I wasn’t. “Is that why you married Dad? Did you marry him so he could tell you what to do?”

“Your father has nothing to do with this discussion. For your information, I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do. I make my own money and lead my own life.”

“So will I. I’ve watched Dad and you. The only times you argue is when your two careers have conflicts. It’s not like I want a husband who doesn’t have a spine. Peaches is one of the bravest people I know.”

I hadn’t really given one thought to Peaches as a husband. Marriage was a long way off. But at that moment, I knew who my groom would be.

Mom thought the best thing for me was to move on; to give Peaches some space. She offered to find someone for me. She knew of a boy my age who was the son of a sorority sister. She would call her in the morning and set it up.

“You do, and I’ll move out!” I ended the conversation dejected and in tears.

I paced in my room for thirty minutes before trying to call. I thought I knew what to say. I had been wrong; he was right. He was absolutely right — for me. He wouldn’t answer his cell. I let it ring fifteen times. I hit redial. Again. And, again. He never did answer. After a long, long cry, I finally went to sleep, wondering if I would ever be with Peaches again.

Chapter Twenty-Two — Peaches
September 20th, Saturday

I pedaled toward Melinda’s house; my thoughts going back just over three weeks to when I had followed the same route to her pool party. I had been such an easy target. ~Why did she have to make a fool out of me?~ I was so damned gullible. Olive juice, heck. Pure gall.

I would ask Zack if his church still has those monasteries. I could be a monk. I was through with girls forever.

Judy and Wayne understood my misery. Wayne said I had been under a terrific amount of pressure. He said it was a wonder that I had stood up as long as I did. The three of us talked for an hour. They both wanted me to find a way to continue the project. Mel and I were opening people’s eyes. They said everyone would understand if I quit, but the school would lose out on a good thing.

Judy said Mel and I would find a way to work it out. I didn’t tell them the real reason why Mel could never be my girlfriend. They would have been shocked to hear that she had manipulated me from the very start.

My backpack was biting into my shoulders. I had loaded myself down with Mel’s stuff. There were already fallen leaves in the street. Nature was killing off Summer for food for another year.

I was wearing about what I had worn to the pool party the day before school started. I had decided all bras were out and was paying for that decision. My breasts complained vehemently about the jiggling and chafing.

Mel had cheerleading practices on Saturday mornings. It would be another hour before she got home. I didn’t want to see her. She had called several times. I hadn’t answered.
Darn it. I could barely keep from crying — again.

Mrs. Pryce answered the door. She didn’t look too surprised to see me.

“Could you give these things back to Melinda for me?”

“Melinda told me it was all over between you two. I’m sorry, Peaches.”

She had, huh? I had been fooled again. She hadn’t been calling to apologize. I was such an idiot. She probably was calling to demand her stuff.

“I’ve brought everything she gave me; the CDs, her pictures, the cologne, things she left at my house; it's all there. I'll bring the clothes you gave me back as soon as I send them to the dry cleaners.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Peaches. In fact, I was going to call you.” She had me come in. It wasn’t my girlfriend Mel’s house now. It was just Melinda Pryce’s house — the girl who had used me. “I’ve heard people around town talking about you. Many of them don’t understand your project. They think you’re making fun of women with the things you do.”

“Really?”

“They think your imitation of how a female acts is demeaning. Some of the members at the Women’s Club were upset after their costume dance.”

“They were? I hadn’t heard a thing.” ~So now I’m not only a wuss at school, I’m also known as a woman-hater in the community.~

“You would have heard, had you been in almost any beauty salon in town. Peaches, even though Melinda and you are through, I almost think of you as another son. I think you need to see your project through to completion. That’s the only way you’re going to show this town they’re all wrong. I know a little something about sophomore projects. I won the prize in my time.”

“Mom showed me your project. She’s kept it. She thinks you walk on water.”

“Hmmm. I’m not sure you heard your mother right.” Something she was thinking about distracted her for a moment. “You need to quit 'pussy-footing' around. You need to jump right in and do your project right. You owe it to yourself and everyone who has supported you. You owe it to your mom to make the best possible effort.”

“Mom told me that's what makes you so successful. Your willingness to take a big risk.”

“That's exactly what you should do, Peaches. You need to start dressing in nothing but skirts and dresses. You need to go to the beauty shop and have the works. You need to buckle down, make a commitment to be all-girl and stick by it.”

I was skeptical of Mrs. Pryce. Had she been in on the female domination with Melinda? Or, had she just been trying to help me all along, as she was helping me today? I could see she was right. If I backed away now, people would think I was a quitter, or worse.

“Maybe you're right,” I said. “I'll get my mom to take me shopping for a couple of dresses and start on it this Monday.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “There's no time like the present. Let's throw your bike in the back of my car. I'll take you down to my store. It will be my treat. I owe you a great deal for referring Judy to me. She's a wonder.”

“I'm so glad she's working out for you, but I couldn't let you spend more money on me, Mrs. Pryce.”

“Peaches, I normally pay any of my employees that brings in a new hire a $1,500 bonus; if the new employee lasts for over a year, they get an additional thousand dollars. I'll just spend that on your wardrobe and call it even. I won't take no for an answer.”

I gave in to Mrs. Pryce's generosity.

“Peaches, I want you to keep all those things Melinda gave you until the project is completed. She and you need to be friends for the sake of your project. Returning her things would probably make her even angrier than what she is already.”

~She’s angry with me?~ I would never understand women. Mrs. Pryce was right; Melinda and I had to try to get along for the sake of the project.

“The other thing, I don’t want you to ruin the Sedalia trip. I’ve scheduled a business meeting there. We have reservations and plans we can’t cancel. Of course, now that you're dressing as a girl fulltime, we'll have to find you one of those Edwardian gowns.”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“The trip will be great for your project,” she said. “You can dress as a girl fulltime there, amongst people who have no idea you're a boy. It will be the ultimate lab experiment to compare a group that knows your true self with a group that doesn't.”

“My mom said you’re smart, and you really are.”

“Your mom and you seem to have talked a lot about me. I guess now that things are irreparably torn between Melinda and you, that won’t happen as much.”

“I guess a lot of other things will change.”

Mrs. Pryce had me toss my bike in the back of her SUV. She took me to her store and I spent two hours trying on and selecting a daily wardrobe for the next several months. Mrs. Pryce was so nice. She took the tags off everything before I tried them on, so I wouldn't think about money. I was astonished how inexpensive women's clothing is compared to men's. If I had bought that much men's clothing it would have cost two or three times the $1,500 she spent on me. She had great taste in clothing. We made sure no one would mistake my clothing for a boy's. Everything was dripping with lovely satin and lace.

Judy helped too. She was delighted I had decided to not only continue, but to upgrade my project. After Judy understood that I wanted to look as girly as possible, she got into the swing of things. What had been so embarrassing a few days ago was actually a blast with Judy and Mrs. Pryce. They were so matter of fact. They picked out items that were more age specific than the clothes Mrs. Pryce had given me.

It felt good to get back into a bra. My perceptions of myself, and the world around me, were different than they were before school and my project started. For the first sixteen years of my life, I had been programmed to avoid all things feminine. I played with the right toys, used the right words, stood and sat a certain way, and did a thousand other things. My mentors were all around me. The media, Mom, Dad, my friends, the teachers, my scoutmaster, everyone; they all gave me signals of approval when I did boy things and disapproval if I strayed.

Over the past few weeks, my mental process had been reversed. I was getting the opposite feedback from almost everyone who cared about me. When I picked up a book or magazine, or watched TV, I did it from a female's perspective. When I saw an attractive woman, I wondered how her hairstyle or clothes would look on me, or if Mel would like me dressed like that.

It would be easier, for a while, to keep my female programming. I was confused and upset. It felt comfortable to adopt the feminine gender on a full-time basis. Once my heart quit aching, I could work things out and go back to who I really am, whoever that is. Mrs. Pryce understood my needs.

While we were in her store, Mrs. Pryce called her beauty shop and pulled some strings to get us in. I knew nothing about it until she pulled up at their door. Again, there was no turning her down. I had the works — hair, body wax, nail extensions, facial, and makeover. Mrs. Pryce had everything done right next to me. She kept chattering about what I could do with my project. She sure was nice to me, making absolutely sure I was comfortable in the knowledge Melinda and I were done.

When she dropped me off, Mrs. Pryce gave me a warm hug.

“Peaches ... my! You're a real beauty queen. You could be Miss Maple Ridge. I'll tell Melinda that I spent the afternoon with you. I'll let her know that you want to be friends and that the two of you should try to be buddies. That's what you want, right? You don't want to be enemies, do you?”

“No, you tell her I'll see her in school on Monday. We'll finish our project as if nothing happened, strictly as friends.”

When I went in the house, I discovered that Mel had sent me a dozen roses. The card said, “I’m sorry, Peaches.” I guess that’s how some girls blow you off. Life sucked. I was learning a good lesson. The flowers went in the trash.

Judy was coming over right after she got off work. We were going to cook dinner for Mom. Wayne and Judy were going keep me busy so I didn’t dwell on the past.

Later on, I would call Mouse and Zack and tell them the news about Mel and me. I needed not to think about it for a while. Not thinking about Melinda was like sitting in a corner trying not to think about a pink elephant. The tears came again. Melinda’s affection for me had been false, but my feelings for her hadn’t been.

Chapter Twenty-Three — Zack
September 21st, Sunday afternoon

I spent the morning working some things out on my keyboard. Ragtime’s mathematical precision helped my brain. Given all the weirdness that had happened in and around school, ragtime was my reality. It was one o’clock when I got to Mouse’s house. Peaches was meeting us there. We would pick up Mel on the way to the ravine. I wanted to collect soil samples, and Mouse wanted to chart the lupine.

Mouse’s dad had granted me the use of his engineering equipment. He has a degree in civil engineering but gave it up to follow his love of flying, as a flight engineer. He still had a transit, rod, and chain I could borrow for mapping the terrain.

Mouse and I talked as we cut several eight-foot one-by-twos into stakes. “Mouse, are you absolutely sure you want to help me? Part of my project is to prove you didn’t find a new species. If you want me to find another topic, I will.”

“You would back off from something you believe is right — for me?”

“Sure I would. Outside of maybe Peaches, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.

“I would never ask you to do that. If my butterfly isn’t a new species, that’s just a matter of fact. I can’t think of anyone I would rather have make that proof than you.”

“But you don’t have to help me do it.”

“Of course I do. You and I have been helping each other with everything since we were old enough to know how. It’s totally natural for me to be at your side. I just hope you won’t hold it against me when your theory is proven wrong.”

“This is about science,” I said. “I’m either right or wrong. If I’m wrong about that ravine being polluted, I’ll be the most surprised person on earth.”

“Speaking of surprised. I’m blown away that both Mel and Peaches are going to work with us this afternoon.”

“They seem to have come to a treaty. For the sake of the project, they’re going to try to remain friends. Peaches said a dozen times last night that there is no chance of them getting back together.”

“I don’t believe it. Friends can become lovers, but lovers can’t become friends. I got a call from Mel last night. She asked me to talk to you. She wants to get back together with Peaches but respects his wishes. She’s asked that we go along with whatever Peaches has suggested.”

“Peaches isn’t the only one with a girlfriend who’s hard to figure out,” I said. “LeighAnn is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Uhmmm.” Mouse turned her back to me for a second for something.

“But — I just can’t seem to read her.”

“She’s hard to read, all right.”

“She was supposed to come along today. She called about an hour ago. Something came up. Am I right to be disappointed?”

“Uhmmm. There’s Peaches.” Mouse ran to help Peaches put his gloves and jacket in the van.

Mouse’s mom drove us out to Wilderland. It was tense after we picked up Mel. She was wearing a baseball cap Peaches had given to her. Peaches had talked to her on the phone earlier in the day to establish the ground rules for going forward. By the looks of her bloodshot eyes, not all the rules were to her liking. She did her best to maintain a positive attitude, but she lacked her normal spontaneity. It helped the overall disposition of the group when Judy and Wayne met us at the ravine. They could only work an hour, and then Judy had to leave for her job.

Traversing from the street to the site was my biggest difficulty of the day. It was much easier than the last time though, with Mouse to steady me in the rough areas.

We set up a grid one hundred meters by one hundred meters, using Mr. Mausser’s chain, which is an engineering term for a steel tape. The grid was centered on the spot where Mouse found her butterfly. At ten-meter intervals, we drove stakes into the ground. Using the transit, we took elevation shots. Peaches handled the rod, which is a three-meter ruler marked off in centimeters, while I ran the transit.

By finding the height of each of the one hundred numbered stakes, compared to a stake we used as our starting elevation, we could later accurately plot an elevation map. I planned to gather soil samples from fifty of the ten-meter by ten-meter squares and identify each sample by the stake number in the southeast corner of its square.

The soil samples were one-inch diameter by six-inch long cylinder cores, which we put into small cardboard sample cartons, being careful not to contaminate them.

My plan was to test each sample for pollutants. By charting which samples were polluted and noting the slope of the ground around that sample, I hoped to be able to assert with a strong degree of reliability that the substances that spawned the mutant originated at Betson Chemicals.

Interim project reports were kept in the school library for review by anyone with an interest. The school’s theory was that you would get the most out of your project if everyone knew what you were trying to achieve. This approach was supposed to help develop community in the school, while motivating the participants through strong competition.

Rich Betson had already jumped me in school. He had heard about my plans and read my preliminary report. He told me I was nuts. He made a photocopy of the preliminary report to give to his father. It didn’t matter to me. It was science. The findings would be what they would be.

Peaches worked like a beaver. He always did. I felt sorry for him. He wasn't dressed for that kind of demanding labor. He told us on the way to the site that he was committed to wearing only feminine clothes for the duration of his project. I had known there was something different about the shirt and pants he had on before he said it, although they really didn't look that out-of-place on him. His shoes were loafers, but after he mentioned it, I noticed he wore nylon stockings instead of socks. Within minutes, they were all scratched up.

He had borrowed some of his mom's gardening gloves. They were pink and white, and not really meant for heavy digging. Mouse had leather work-gloves. She evidently saw what I did and kept Peaches doing things that required him to do light lifting, recording, and carrying.

Mel had no trouble pushing the sampler's blades through the sandy soil. She seemed to be enjoying the chance to lose herself in something that required little thought and a lot of muscle. Mostly due to her hard work, and the help Mrs. Mausser gave us, we were done well within the four hours I had estimated it would take.

As we loaded the last of the soil samples into the back of the Mausser family’s vintage VW van, Rich Betson drove by in his yellow Hummer H2. Almost in his lap was LeighAnn. LeighAnn didn’t seem to notice us.

The bad thing about having friends is they’re close to you when you get embarrassed. The good thing about having friends is the same thing. Mouse was livid. I had never heard her swear before. It shocked all of us when she spat out, “Damnitalltohell!”

“What the heck does LeighAnn know?” Mel said. “Why would she ever settle for Richie when she had the handsomest guy in school?” I think she meant it, because she stood there shaking her head. She eventually added, “Her loss. She’ll find out.”

Peaches and Mouse walked about fifteen yards down the street and held a short, private conversation. I suppose they wanted me to have a few seconds to collect myself. I was overwhelmed by emotions: embarrassment, confusion, humiliation, anger, disillusionment, and jealousy.

Everyone was supposed to come over to my house for pizza as a reward for his or her hard work. I wasn’t astounded when Mel, Mouse, and her mom remembered things they needed to do.

Peaches grinned at me. “Good. More pizza for the two of us.”

On the way back to my house, Peaches kept asking questions about my project procedures. I was sure he had more than a minor interest, but I was surer he just wanted to keep my mind off how bad I felt. First Peaches and Mel, and then LeighAnn and me; it appeared nothing was meant to endure.

“You know, you’re an idiot,” Peaches said. The two of us were splitting a pizza. Peaches’ long fingernails changed the way he held his pizza and his soda glass.

“Hey, thanks. Just what I need, a buddy to make me feel better.”

“Since you’re only the smartest kid in school, I’ll dumb this down for you. Who’s the nicest girl in school who doesn’t have a boyfriend, and who has liked you for years?”

“No girl has ever liked me, other than LeighAnn.”

“Really? And what’s your definition of a girl?”

Peaches had me thinking while we paid some attention to the video I had rented for the pizza party that never happened. ~Why did he want me to define girl?~ He scared me. Had he meant him? He was sort of good-looking dressed as a girl. ~Nawww!~ He must have meant someone else, although — Peaches was more “girl” than most of the genuine-girls in the high school.

“Peaches, are you sorry you started your project?”

“No, I think it's been good for the school.”

“But has it worked out okay for you?” I asked. “If you had been wearing boys’ clothes for the past several weeks, would things have worked out differently between Mel and you?”

“I am what I am, Zack. Clothes might make the man; but they don't make a woman out of a man. I like how I feel when I'm dressed nicely. I look better somehow in women's clothing than I ever did before. I'm not embarrassed by how I feel, or who I am. Well, I guess I'm a little embarrassed. I guess at times I'm a whole lot embarrassed, but I'm not sorry.”

Peaches wanted to see his thing through to completion. I would have been the biggest loser in the world had I not supported him. At times, it bothered me to see my buddy doing what he was doing. At times, it seemed silly. Other times, it bordered on absurd. I couldn’t — wouldn’t do what he had been doing. He was way out on a limb, all by himself, now that he had ended it with Mel.

~He meant Mouse. Peaches thinks I should be dating Mouse!~

~Mouse isn’t interested in that kind of thing. Is she?~

***
Taking it on the road — In Part 5 Peaches, Mel, Zack, and Mouse are all flying to Sedalia, Missouri to a Scott Joplin festival. Mel wants to get back together with Peaches, but she doesn’t have a clue on how to make that happen. Mel’s mother could tell her, but will she?

Notes:

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