AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I know that I have taken some artistic license with our U.S. legal system here, but this is all in the vein of fiction and fun—so, all of you lawyers and legal-minded readers, please forgive me!

HUGS!

The next day, about mid-morning, I am called to the front office and then straight into Ronnie’s office. I am, once again, surprised to find Mummy and Momma there—along with the school lawyers.

Momma shouts up the stairs, “Paige? Francie? Are you girls ready? Angi and I are leaving!”

I poke my head around the corner and say loud enough that Momma can hear at the bottom of the stairs, “Just a minute Momma. I can’t get my bag zipped!”

I go back into my room and Francie comes and SITS on my bag. I quickly zip it and pray that the zipper will hold against the bulging pressure mounting from the inside. I pull it up onto its wheels with a grunt and start pulling it towards the stairs. I look back and give Francie a cheeky look and ask, “Coming?”

I look at the three other women in the room. Of them, only Ronnie already knows the basics of my idea. I don’t have the details, but that is what my two Moms are for…working those out!

Author's Note:

Hi All, I know the last chapter wasn't everyone's cup of tea--I needed to clean up some things with Misty and these last two chapters were the best way I could think to do it... Also, I know that the sex in the last chapter wasn't to everyone's taste. To be honest, it isn't mine, either. I won't be doing anymore in this series (at least not that explicit--teens in love, will be teens in love, after all... :) ).

I look at Butch and Felix and know that if things get ugly, there is no way they can handle this many. That idiot Graham is out front and center of the crowd—many of which are on the football team. They don’t look at all friendly. And to think I used to be friends with most of them—even George and Rupe, my former best friends.

Before anyone can make a move, Chrissy and Ginny come up behind us in full cheerleading uniforms. They stand out in front of our group and glare at the football players on the other side.

Day three starts out the same as the last two—but it doesn’t stay that way for long…

I find Butch and start towards the bathroom. I am just about to enter when Jackie grabs my arm from behind and asks, “WHY are you going in THERE, Paige? That is certainly not where you belong!”

I shake my head and say, “It really makes no difference where I go. If I go in here I get stared at by boys that either think I’m a pervert or want to see my boobs. If I WERE to go into the girls’ room, I’d still get stared at because they think I’m a pervert.”

Momma looks at me, concerned, and says, “Maybe Angi is right, Love. Maybe a private school IS a better solution…”

I shake my head. If this whole affair has done nothing, it has taught me to stand my ground. I say, “Momma, think about it…do you REALLY think there aren’t bigots and bullies at private schools? All that will happen is that it will be covered up that I’m ‘TG’—then I have to ALWAYS worry that that will somehow be discovered.”

The next two weeks fly by.

It is a HUGE relief for it all to be out in the open with Francie—and our relationship is growing by leaps and bounds (and Francie IS being the mature one—DANG IT!). I fall more in love every day, I think. I know what you are thinking…what does an (almost) fifteen-year-old know about love? All I can say is that there is NO doubt in my heart that Francie is THE one for me…

I am sitting with Francie at lunch and she grins at me. I ask, “What?”

She shakes her head and says, “I don’t know. You’re different today… Like…you’re at peace, or something. I don’t know what it is…but…WHATEVER it is—I LIKE what it has done to you!”

I smile and shake my head. I say, “I’ll tell you about it, Francie. Later. Right now, I have to concentrate on kicking some ‘other’ camp ass! Speaking of…Is Madame Pratt serious about that lift with Michael? I mean, I know HE can handle it…but…am *I* really ready?”

By the end of the week, I am swimming faster and farther than ever before. I am even winning a bunch of the races at practice in several swim styles—but that is against girls, so I know it is not a fair race. While I still can’t see the muscles that I am expecting any moment, I know that my puberty is kicking in because of the implant, so I must be getting stronger than the girls—the problem is, I still don’t FEEL stronger. And with having to be girlied-up all of the time, I can’t really SEE that I am developing either. If anything, I feel and look even girlier than ever.

It is blissful to actually sleep in until eight o’clock. The week has actually gone by fairly fast and it is my third Monday here—and time for my session with Angi. By Saturday, I was getting into a groove and doing better at swimming, I can actually swim ten laps now and my shoulder feels pretty good. Ballet is surprisingly the easiest for me—Madame Pratt says I am a natural and is pushing me really hard; I started private sessions with her and Francie on Wednesday which will advance me much faster—or so I am told (Yay me…just what I always wanted).

Angi gives me hug and holds me out at arm’s length. She says, “You look CUTE in that skirt! And I see that the girls are already corrupting you with your makeup!”

I blush in embarrassment. The girls, Francine included, insisted that I wear the skirt, which is REALLY short—AFTER I ‘tucked’. Then they made me put on mascara and lip gloss. In addition, I had to use this pencil thingy—eyeliner, they called. I call it a torture instrument!

I don’t really know what to say… So, I just shrug and say, “Well…I DID have help…”

Overall, I was a happy boy. Sure, it was a really sad time when my Dad died two years ago, when I was eleven, but Mom met a guy that turned out to be OK—or so I thought. This is my story—as best as I can piece together the entirety of the events…

Let me catch up to the important part really quickly: