It was well into the afternoon when I finally reached creole-style cottage that I called home. I quickly climbed the wooden steps that lead onto the wrap around front porch and then taking a deep breath entered into the living room. The air inside was scented with the smell of roasting meat and vegetables. I guessed tonight corned beef, and cabbage was on the menu, judging from the heavy, savory, beefy smell that perfumed the air.

“Jamie.” My mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you dear?”

“Yes ma'am.” I called out as I eased my backpack down. My mother then appeared in the doorway that connected the living room with the kitchen. She offered me a small smile as she started to move toward me in a friendly manner.

“There freshly baked cookies and milk in the kitchen to wash your hands first though.” She then smiled as her eyes traveled up and down, it felt like she was measuring me or judging me. Finally after a short pause she smiled and said in a tone of voice that seemed to drip with motherly concern she added. “And then we can talk, something tells me, that we need to have a little mother to daughter talk.”

I blinked and blinked again as I dropped my backpack down upon the wooden floorboards and peered toward my mother. Rolling the mental dice, I reached down, unzipped my backpack and pulled out the permission slip. Taking a deep breath, I held out the slip toward my mother who reached and took it. Once the forum was in her hands she lowered her head and gave it a once over.

“So, you're wanting to volunteer for the dunking booth?” She reached down and pulled a pen from the front pocket of the pink apron she was wearing. She often wears an apron when knocking around the kitchen. And a number of objects always seems to be housed in deep pockets that are sewn into them. Anything from fountain ink pen to a fever thermometer. Pen in hand, she placed the form down upon the arm of the sofa. She then scratched her name on one of the spaces. Once that was done, she handed the paper back to me.

“I guess.” She said smiling. “We need to find you a swimsuit.” she paused. “We might have some swimsuits down in the store. And you do have some credit built up. Tell you what, while your washing up, I'll go upstairs and fetch one of the catalog's. Then over your snack we can flip through the pages and see if anything strikes your fancy. Once we find something that suits your fancy, I'll write down the order number and see if I can't get it for you.”

“Thank you mommy.” I said smiling softly as I made my way to the down stairs bathroom. Okay before I go on, I should tell you guys something. My folks own and operate a small general store in town that has been in our family for several generations called “Potter's Mercantile”. And we'll since it's a family owned business, my sister and I were both expected to pitch in and help from time to time. Now, my older sister, Lily was often allowed to slack because we'll she had her own small business to tend to, a pastry shop of some kind where all the employee's wore Japanese inspired maid costumes. Of course, with me being her younger sister, I too was expected to help out too.

But there was a difference in the two, when I worked for Lily at her pastry shop, I was paid a straight hourly wage. Something along the lines of four dollars and twenty five cents. At the end of each shift, my time would add up and either Lily or Robin would pay me straight from the cash register. But when I worked for mom and dad down at the store, I was paid “By the Piece” meaning I'll be paid for each case of stock I'll work out. When I first started, dad set the rate at twenty cents a case. That was four years ago, as time went on, and I grew older he increased the rate from twenty cents to twenty five cents, then to thirty cents to finally I was making a whooping forty cents a box. And no, I was not paid in case, but

“Credit” that could only be used in the store. And since I never really brought from the store, and mostly saved my “Credits” I was rocking a good two or three hundred dollars on the balance sheets down there.
This musing carried me through the mindless task of washing my hands, drying my hands, brushing my hair and we'll getting tidied up before I sat down for my late afternoon snack. As I placed my brush down upon the counter top, I happen to peer into the bathroom mirror one more time. And the reflection that looked back at me, struck me. Now, I had been living as Jamie for a seven months or eight months. And I kind of eased into the roll, I took to being Jamie as a duck takes to water. And to honest, I'd forgotten for a time I had ever been born a boy.

Shortly after coming out as Jamie, my older sister Lily, my mom and even my dad had simply packed up my boy clothes and donated them to the local charity shop. Dad just seemed to roll with it, the fact his son was now his daughter never even phased him. He just accepted it and rolled along with whatever Mom and Lily wanted. Dad was gentle like that, he never raised his hand in anger and was slow to anger. But when he raised his voice, his voice boomed out like thunder. But yes, dad had accepted it.

And if dad had accepted it, mom embraced it. With gusto she threw herself into correcting thirteen years of learned bad behavior. Day after day, starting in the morning and lasting well into the night, she drilled the fundamentals of proper etiquette into me. Not only did she teach me proper table-manners and how to conduct myself in polite southern society, but she taught me how to properly apply make-up, how to properly brush my hair and how to properly apply make-up. Things that most girls have fourteen or so years to learn, I had only a scant few weeks to learn. Most would break under such training, but I seemed to thrive.

Lily helped too. Before my transformation to Jamie, my online presents was limited to a few backwater role playing boards. Where, oddly enough I mostly played as a girl. I shunned social media and avoided it like the plague. Lily being the social butterfly she is, changed that. Under her tutelage, I created my first Facebook Page using my new name of 'Jamie Sarah Potter'. A Twitter account soon followed, followed shortly by an Youtube Account to upload videos.

All of these thoughts swirled through my head as I peered into the mirror once more. Slowly a smile formed upon my face as I lifted my hand and placed it upon the cool glass surface of the mirror. The image returned my smile.

“This summer.” I said softly and mostly to myself. “Is going to our best summer yet. Where going to tour the mall, explore the state, attend anime conventions, and live life the the max.” I said nodding my head.

Madeline, a fellow transgender girl who was also happen to be my best friend as well as co-worker as we both worked together oddly enough in my older sisters pastry shop. Anyway, Madeline had told me once, as we visited over tea during our break from baking cookies and pies, that when she took part in the dunking booth attract that was part of the “Discover Benton '18' festival last year, that she felt totally exposed and a little frighten, not only because she was transgender, but because she was new and still quite body shy. And like I said before, she was also wearing a bathing suit. But once she got up there, all her fears seemed to melt away, in fact much to her amazement she started to enjoy it. She said she had enjoyed every minute of it, from the low-key flirting with the boys, to throwing shade at random people to well get them to take a change and dunk her.

“Jamie Sarah Potter!” My mom's voice rang out. “Come to dinner girl. Dad's home and he's ready to eat! We'll have cookies for dessert.” She paused, “And your sister's home too.”

“Coming mother!” I cried out as I turned off the light switch and left the bathroom. Dinner sounded good, better than cookies and milk that for sure. Also, Dad works long hours, and normally when he comes home, he eats dinner, takes a spit bath and sits in his chair and watches some program about UFO's and Aliens on the History Channel. Never in a million and one years would you expect a Prayer Book Anglican to entertain the idea that life could be found beyond this tiny, blue and green island, but my dad was one. Then again, maybe this open-mindless was the reason he had accepted me. Anyway, I turned off the light in the bathroom and skipped away. I hated using that bathroom, it always felt.. odd. I thought it was haunted, everyone else thought I was being silly. Anyway, sm