A Wish Unwanted – Part 5
by Limbo’s Mistress

“Uh,” I said, fighting with the screaming alarms going off in my head. “What are you …”

“Look, Davenport,” Jen interrupted, sounding like she was having to rein in her outdoor voice. “I have enough shit on my plate at the moment. So I have neither the time, nor patience to figure out what the hell is going on between you and Stevens. I just know the two of you had better get it settled. Fast. If I come back to find all my hard work ruined, both of your asses are in deep trouble.”

Then she hung up before I could say anything else.

I stared at the phone in my hand for a moment, feeling my pulse slowly descend from somewhere around low-earth orbit.

She had called me Sam. Right? I hadn’t just misheard her.

Sam. Of course, the rest of the short, brutal call was exactly of the type a mega-bitch like Jennifer Winters would have with one of her subordinates. She’d talked to me (well, down to me, technically), just as I’d heard her talk to the rest of the cheer squad a hundred times before.

The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced my imagination had caused me to hear the wrong name.

Okay, maybe not actually convinced. More like, trying to talk myself into believing that I’d heard incorrectly.

By the time I got to class, a half-second before the bell, my heartbeat was back out of the red line and my spider-sense wasn’t going haywire. Lee’s eyes drifted over my way as I strolled up the middle of the aisle, trying to decide on a seat. Given the way the population of the class seemed to be distributed, people I knew to be friends sitting together, I hazarded a guess that the desks weren’t assigned.

There were four vacant seats, including one right behind Lee. Against my better judgment, I selected that one.

No sooner had my jean-clad bottom touched the wood, the football star turned around to look at me. The smile on his face was still beaming with the wattage of a warp core, but there was a note of concern in his eyes.

“Everything okay?” he asked in a soft voice.

No, actually. Things are definitely not okay. Because, not only did I wake up this morning to find out that I had become a crazy-popular hot girl who was co-captain of the school’s cheer team, but I think it’s possible a more-than-comfortable number of people around here have been messing with a really powerful magical talisman.

“Yeah,” I replied, cupping a hand over the irritated voice in my head. “Everything’s peachy.”

Lee’s smiled widened. “Good,” he said, then turned around to face the front of the room.

The class itself wasn’t bad. Mr. Eastman had quite the flair for the dramatic. Which wasn’t the least bit surprising, since he was also the faculty advisor for the drama club. As he went through the passages in Coleridge’s magnum opus, he changed his pitch and tone multiple times, creating multiple voices as he acted out the sad, slightly horrific, tale.

I might have even found myself enjoying it, had I been able to stop thinking about Jen. As well as Tabitha, Tracy, Cindy, and myself. I knew for a fact that four of us had used the wishing stone. I just wasn’t sure about Jen.

Sure, her current social standing could be a result of the magic. Maybe she had used it to become the queen bee of Benson High. After all, that’s what Tabitha had wanted the stone to give her. The issue was, being one of the newest players to the game, I wouldn’t know one way or the other. As far as my memories were concerned, Jen had always been a beautiful bitchy girl.

I also couldn’t rule out the remote possibility that Jen hadn’t used the stone. It was all too easy to imagine Tabitha making a phone call after the way she stormed off during lunch. What if she called to complain to Jen that I didn’t deserve to be the second in command of the squad?

Would she risk trying to convince the other girl that I wasn’t really who everyone thought I was? That I was actually a boy named Sam Davenport who had been magically transformed by a wishing stone. Maybe that’s why Jen called me “Sam” in her patented snarky tone before moving into berating both Tabitha and I for being disagreeable with each other.

It was possible. In the same way it was possible that Benjamin Sisko was a better captain than Jean-Luc Picard.

Which was to say, not very at all.

“Pee-Jay?” Mr. Eastman said, yanking me back to the world outside my paranoid brain. “Would you like to explain why She-Life-In-Death chose to make the Mariner hers?”

Do what? She who? Jesus, I really needed to stop crawling around inside my own brain and pay more attention in my classes. Or else Penelope was going to find herself on the wrong side of academic probation.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and scrambled to gather around me every bit of knowledge I could recall from those lame ass D&D sessions based on this poem.

Okay, I think I remembered something about two celestial beings wagering for the lives of some of the NPCs our party was helping. One of them won the life of a crooked village elder, and the deity turned him immortal. But the other otherworldly being killed all of the people he’d ever cheated. Including most of his friends and family. Our group was supposed to help the elder accept his losses and deal with the guilt of not being able to help them.

“Uh,” I said as I placed my hands in my lap and crossed my fingers. “She wanted him to stay alive to, uh, sort of a penance. For what he did?”

The rest of the class was turned to look at me, causing my already warm face to grow hotter. I’d never liked answering in class when I was Sam. Even when I knew I was right.

Mr. Eastman looked at me for another second or two before giving me a slight nod of his head.

“Close enough. Please try to pay closer attention to the lecture, okay?”

I nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. I will.”

Shoving the conundrum of my brief phone call with Jen, I focused solely on the rest of the class, trying to follow along. Apparently I was going to be spending a good portion of my evening trying to catch up on some past-due reading.

Too bad the stone’s magic hadn’t given me all the knowledge Penelope was supposed to have. Things were hectic enough without fighting to catch up on her fracking studies.

Thankfully, the bell rung about fifteen minutes after my chastisement. I put my book into my backpack, zipped the flap closed, then looked up to see Lee leaning across my desk. His face was only about six inches from mine.

“Whoa!” I said, leaning back a bit.

He laughed, giving a shake of his head. His smile never faltered.

I did not like the way it made me feel inside. I accepted I would have to deal with new … sensations. Just didn’t expect giddy to be one of them.

“I was wondering,” he said as I stood up beside him. “Think I could convince you to go with me to the Coffee Café after school? You know, since it’s Monday. No cheer practice.”

Oh thank the gods! I had completely forgotten that Jen gave the squad Monday’s off. I think she knew if she tried to force them to practice five days a week, someone was going to rebel and shove a megaphone down her throat.

I looked up into Lee’s eyes, feeling a frown form on my face before I replied. It was only afterwards that I realized it was genuine. I actually felt a twinge of regret about having to turn down his offer.

“I can’t,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve got a Homecoming Committee meeting right after school. It’s the first one, and I’m apparently the chairperson.” Then, before the Sam portion of my brain could react, I placed my hand lightly on his arm. “Raincheck?”

Jesus Christ! The limb beneath the sleeve of his button-down shirt was solid as a lump of marble. I could feel the curves and muscles under my fingertips. It was an Endor-sized battle of willpower to take my hand away.

In the end, I managed to cool the little minx’s jets.

Lee smiled wider and nodded. “Of course. I can’t believe I forgot about Homecoming. You mentioned it a couple of times Saturday, after all.”

“Yeah, I did. So, next time, okay?” Dialing back the hormones a little more.

“Absolutely.”

I said my goodbyes to Lee, who seemed a little disappointed I didn’t ask him to walk me to my next class. As it were, several students that drifted past us in the hall turned to look. More than a few of them began whispering to each other the second they were out of earshot. I felt my face warming again.

Penny and Lee’s blossoming romance was going to be the talk of the school by the end of the day. If not, then at least by the first bell tomorrow.

Maybe I could convince Mom to let me call in dead tomorrow.

I made my way back to my locker. Inside, hanging near the back was a small athletic bag. I pulled it off the hook and placed it on the floor of the locker. When I unzipped it, I found Penelope’s gym clothes.

Glancing around to make sure I wasn’t being watched, I leaned in and sniffed the bag’s contents. I mean, after all, it was Monday. Chances were the garments had been marinating inside the locker for the whole weekend.

To my surprise, they smelled like they’d just come out of the dryer. There was an undertone of lilac to them.

Hey, go figure. The wishing stone not only took away my manhood, it managed to do my laundry at the same time.

Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I shut the locker and made my way to the sports complex. Along the way, I continuously reminded myself that I needed to go left after going through the building’s front doors. Not right. Left went into the girls’ locker rooms. Right went to the boys’.

Left. Left. Left. Left.

I pulled open the heavy glass door stenciled with the words, “Jacob Claxton Memorial Sports Complex” scrawled across the front in white block letters. Then, I promptly turned right.

“Pee-Jay?” Someone called from behind me.

I froze, blinking wildly as I realized my hand was in the process of reaching for the handle of the wrong door. I pulled the limb back as if from a roaring bonfire and spun around to see Sarah standing at the entrance to the girls’ area. She had a curious expression on her face.

“Hey!” I said, trying to sound casual. “I think my brain is having some serious crossed wires today.” I hooked my thumb at the door behind me. “Or something.”

Sarah smirked. “Maybe you were hoping to catch a sneak peek at the guys? Or a particular guy?”

“Lee doesn’t have gym this period,” I said, returning her smirk.

“Too bad,” she said. “Of course, I’m sure he would let you peek anytime you wanted.”

Yeah, really didn’t need the mental image that came with that statement. Nor the warmth that was flaring up more often when I thought about the studly football player.

“You are so bad,” I said, moving past her and into the correct locker room.

I’m ashamed to say, I did the thing. I skipped groping myself this morning. I also did my best to walk, talk, and sit like a proper young lady. However, I honestly could not stop myself from doing the other thing. The third thing.

After all, wasn’t really a guy who had just walked, unchallenged, into Nirvana?

The girl’s locker room in and of itself wasn’t all that different than the guys’. Rows of bright right metal units running in a set of four columns. Polished wood benches running the length of the spaces between them. Tile floor in a black and white checkerboard pattern. Pretty much the same at it was across the way.

There were differences, of course. For one, the layout was backwards from what I was used to. The narrow hallway, made of blue and white painted cinderblocks, that led out into the gym itself was on the left side of the room. The entrance to the showers was located on the right.

Another difference was it smelled a whole lot better in there than in the guys’ locker room. The slightly tangy aroma of sweat still hung in the air, but it was fresher. Feminine. It reminded me of an old commercial that insisted that only guys sweated. Girls perspire. Stupid marking bullshit, right?

Only, it wasn’t. Mainly because inhaling it didn’t make me crinkle my nose and want to gag.

Yet, none of those could be classified as anything close to earth-shattering.

However, it was the third difference between the two dressing rooms that caused me to screech to a halt the second I passed through the heavy wooden door. Rather than the usual spectacle of a noisy, bustling locker room filled with hairy assed guys farting and laughing while they changed their clothes, the room before me was filled with girls.

Girls in their underwear. Girls in just panties. And some girls who were completely and totally nude.

It was the golden ticket that went into every guy’s spank bank fantasy. The sort of thing that teenage comedies showed, but most guys felt was complete fiction. As I stood there, staring wide-eyed with oncoming brain overload, it suddenly felt like all the ridiculous crap I’d had to put up with since waking up as Penelope had been worth it. The reward for keeping my wits about me through the wish’s rollercoaster ride.

I was in Terra Incognito. The Forbidden Zone. The Delta Quadrant.

“Come on, Peej,” Sarah said as she walked past me, grabbing my arm. “We’re going to be late getting out on the floor. The Butcher will make us do pushups, or run a million laps, or something equally lame.”

I shook my head, trying to both clear my thoughts while I attempted cram all the mental snapshots I’d just collected into a secure location in my memory. To be analyzed and scrutinized later. You know, for research purposes.

Strictly scientific.

Sarah half-dragged me into the throngs of woman-flesh in motion. Most of the girls we passed waved or said hello. I tried to respond like I assumed Penny would. Which meant when Janie Jordan turned around to face me, with absolutely no support around her humongous breasts, I kept my eyes focused squarely on her face.

“Hey Pee-Jay,” she said, smiling. “I’m having a pool party this Saturday night. It’d be awesome if you were there.”

Eyes up! Eyes up! Eyes up!

“Cool,” I said, clenching my jaw as I felt my resolve start to falter. “I’ll try to come.”

She beamed and turned back to her locker to finish getting dressed. As she did, I gave in and glanced down at the massive mammaries that had been the subject of many a spirited debate between Sammy and his dorky pals. Mostly revolving around the topics of how real they might be and what one of us would do to them, should we find ourselves in the completely unlikely position of being allowed to do something with them.

However, as my gaze shifted down, I realized that something had changed. And it wasn’t Janie.

She was still well-stacked and shapely of bosom, something I found I could appreciate. The problem was, it didn’t do anything for me. Nada.

Sure, I didn’t really expect to pop a boner while looking at them. Not that I hadn’t many times in the past. I just currently didn’t have the proper equipment for that type of reaction. I had, though, expected to feel something. A swell of lust, perhaps? Or even a bit of an internal goggling at seeing, for the first time, a pair of luscious boobs that wasn’t on a digital screen.

Instead, I felt nothing. No rise in libido. No increase in my pulse. It was like looking at a really nice …comic. One in which the artwork was pretty good, but the story being told in the panels was pretty much just there. No passion to be found.

What the frack?

I quickly yanked open the drawer in my brain that was filled to overflowing with all the stored mental images of a thousands of female forms. From the slightly naughty catgirls from various anime shows, to the dozens of female cosplayers my friends and I drooled over constantly. Not to mention the roll of psychic photos I’d taken after entering the locker room.

Not a single one of them created so much as a flutter within me.

Sarah tugged on my arm again, and I allowed her to draw me along until we stopped in front of a pair of metal doors at the end of the row. The one before me was a full-length cage, rather than the half-length ones we’d just passed. A little metal plate affixed to the top of the door had a piece of white tape stuck to the front of it. “Pee-Jay”.

Oh look, a personalized locker. Thanks universe, but that doesn’t exactly make up for taking away my sex drive.

Wait. That wasn’t right, was it? I thought about how I’d reacted to Lee’s presence since that morning. Increased heartrate, nervous trembles in my stomach, the electricity that had passed between us when I touched his arm. Great Caesar’s Ghost! I’d behaved just like the lead in some syrupy rom-com.

I sighed and leaned forward to place my forehead against the cool, metal door of the locker.

“I’m a heterosexual girl with a crush on a football player,” I mumbled with defeat.

Sarah giggled and bumped me with her hip. “That you are, girlfriend. Lucky for you, he’s crushing back.”

I shook my head and pulled back from the locker. I almost turned to tell Sarah that the problem was that I shouldn’t be crushing on Lee Taylor because I was not a heterosexual girl. I was actually a heterosexual guy. Or at least I’d been one before that morning.

Instead, I stuck my tongue out at her and went about the process of getting changed.

Inside the little athletics bag, I found a pair of blue shorts with BHS stenciled in white on the left leg. Exactly like the pair I normally would wear for gym class. Only these were a little shorter in length. There was also a white t-shirt with blue trim around the neck and sleeves, as well as the word “Benson” in blue cursive script across the chest. Under the clothes were a pair of white ankle socks, a white sports bra, and a pair of black and pink Nikes.

At least I had one article of clothing that wasn’t just overflowing with “school spirit”.

Was that who I was now? Miss Rah-Rah, Benson High For-EVER!!!

If that was what my new reality entailed, someone just kill me now.

When I pushed my jeans down to my ankles, Sarah snickered and poked me in one of my butt cheeks with her finger.

“Nice granny panties, Peej,” she said. “Please tell me you wore something a little sexier on Saturday.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling the black denim free from my feet. “It’s laundry day, okay?” I huffed, standing up to hang my jeans in the locker. “These were the only ones that were clean.”

She giggled again, turning to hang her own pants up. Her shapely bottom was clad in a dark green thong that rode high on her hips and was trimmed in lace at the top. It drew the eye to an ass that had been born of thousands of hours of exercise and training. An ass I’d admired from afar since freshman year.

Now, I was within biting distance of it, and couldn’t care less.

“Tell me another one,” she said as she turned back to me and unfastened her bra. “I happen to know that you would have to skip laundry day for about six months before running out of underwear.”

“Can we drop it?” I asked, trying not to sound like a total bitch. “I was in a hurry this morning and grabbed the first thing I could from the drawer. It’s not like I’m wearing them with the intention of impressing anyone.”

She blinked, stopping in the middle of pulling on her t-shirt so that her head and one arm were through the holes, but the other was not. A small frown instantly replaced her amused smile.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding a little put out. “I was just teasing.” She pulled the shirt the rest of the way on and sat down to lace up her own sneakers.

I sighed, stepping into my shorts, pulling them up to my newly curved hips. The seat of the pants clung like a second skin to my bottom, and the legs felt way too short to be the proper length. I might have once enjoyed seeing how they looked on girls before I became one. Now, I just wished they were a few sizes larger.

“Sarah…” I said, grabbing my t-shirt.

She closed her locker and waved her hand. “It’s fine. See you in class.” With that, she walked off around the corner, heading toward the door.

I plopped down on the bench, gripping the white cotton tightly in my pretty manicured hands. Apparently Sarah and Penelope had a playfully antagonistic friendship. One where they picked at each other in a non-threatening manner, with each teasing the other without any trace of maliciousness.

Like … well, like a couple of dudes.

The revelation of that hit me like a gundam rocketing around a corner. I’d always assumed that girls spent most of their time sniping at each other. Bickering and comparing themselves in a constant battle for feminine supremacy. It had never even occurred to me that they might actually be friends. Real friends.

I mean, Cindy almost never hung around other girls at school unless it was with the rest of the squad. She had mentioned to me multiple times that, despite the fact she really didn’t care for being around them, she felt obligated to do so. She claimed she had a better time, and was more comfortable, hanging out with me and the guys from our gaming group.

Penny, though, seemed to have a real friendship with Sarah. Probably with a few others as well. Tabitha not included. Sarah might tease her friend, but it was clear she was loyal to her. There was no jealousy, or meanness, to their interaction. They really were BFFs.

And I’d let my manly self-esteem try to derail that.

I finished getting dressed and hurried through the door into the gym. The gaggle of girls standing in a loose clump on the far side of the floor gave me a direction in which to go. When I neared the group, I saw that Mrs. Burchett, aka The Butcher, was going over the day’s planned activity.

“The teams will be six versus six,” she said, walking back and forth in front of her class. “I expect you to work together with the others in your group. Volleyball is a team sport, so no superstar showing off. Matthews, I’m talking to you.”

Caitlin Matthews, power forward for the Benson High girls’ basketball team, smirked.

“Understood, Coach.”

“The score will be capped at six points. First team to get there wins. Winner of each round will play each other. The two losing teams will battle to see who is really the worst of the bunch.” She grinned harshly as she turned around to look at me. “You’re late, Davenport.”

A warmth ran onto my face and, though I’m not sure why, I reached down and tugged on the legs of my shorts. As if I could make them longer.

“Sorry, Coach. I was …”

“Don’t care,” she said with a little sneer. “Coach Ferguson and the other teachers might be willing to give the precious Raiderettes extra privileges. Not me.” She jerked her head up toward the indoor track that ran around the perimeter of the gym’s interior. “Twenty laps. Then you can join whichever team will have you.”

I opened my mouth to protest the unfairness of her order. But the look in her eyes told me that doing so would only make my punishment worse. When I glanced over The Butcher’s shoulder, I could see the look of surprise and disbelief on the faces of my classmates.

Apparently Penelope wasn’t the kind of girl who got into trouble with a teacher. Which meant she certainly didn’t talk back.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I turned around and jogged to the steps leading up to the track. Once at the top, I continued forward, keeping my pace steady as I began making my required circuits.

I tried to follow the course of the games taking place down below as I jogged around and around.

The guys’ class was playing basketball on the other end of the gym from where the girls were. Half of them had taken off their shirts, and the bright lights hanging down over them gave their sweaty bodies, taut with bulging muscles, a glimmering sheen.

More than once, I reached down and pinched myself in the side rather hard. It was bad enough that I reacted like a cat in heat around Lee. I didn’t need to be going full-nympho just because some rather hunky young men were dribbling, running, and jumping around shirtless.

As for the class I was supposed to be in, I was pretty sure Sarah’s team had won the first match. Not surprising, since that group was comprised of Sarah, Kara, Caitlin, Elle Jasper, Monica Keene, and Stephanie Smith. It had been a completely lop-sided affair. Sarah and Kara were Raiderettes, as was Stephanie. Elle was on the basketball team with Caitlin, and Monica was the captain of the fracking varsity volleyball team.

Their demolition of the opposing side, whose most athletic member was Tracy Mallory, was never in doubt.

I felt a flame of annoyance flicker to life in my chest. I might be Penelope on the outside, but inside I was Sam. Uh, mostly. I’d been on the receiving end of more than my share of gym class spankings by those who possessed talent and expertise that far eclipsed my own. Too many times of being picked last, being the alternate choice, or just plain getting beat down raged in my bouncing breasts.

Seriously, though, was this so-called sports bra actually supposed to hold my girls firmly in place? Because, if so, then I needed a refund or something from Victoria’s Secret.

As soon as I completed my twentieth trip around the track, I descended the stairs two at a time in my haste to get back to the class.

“Looking good, Pee-Jay,” one of the guys, Donny Something, said as I passed by them. “Taylor’s a lucky dude.”

I clenched my jaw and kept walking without bothering to reply. Looks like my attempt to keep whatever was going on between Lee and Penelope under wraps was useless. The question I didn’t really want to ask myself was whether or not I was going to continue to pursue it? This morning in my room, I would have adamantly insisted that getting turned into a girl didn’t mean I had to live my life like a girl. Magically changing my gender didn’t mean I wasn’t still the same person inside.

However, over the short expanse of a single day, I’d learned that there were some things I just wasn’t being allowed to control. Including my feelings.

When I returned to the group, Sarah’s team was currently ahead of the other winning team by a score of five to two. I stopped next to Tracy and watched the match play out.

“How’s everything?” she asked quietly, keeping her eyes focused on the game. If Coach Burchett saw us talking, it would be another round of laps.

“Fine, I guess.” I waited until The Butcher’s attention was centered on the students playing.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? How easily you find yourself falling into your new reality?”

“Weird isn’t the word I would use. More like … disturbing.”

“But you are getting acclimated, right? Not so much a fish out of water.”

I didn’t respond immediately. Not only because the hard eyes of the older woman swung over in our direction for a moment, but because I didn’t trust myself to answer honestly.

I wasn’t Penelope. I knew this to the core of my being. I still had all the memories and experiences that belonged to Sam Davenport. Yet, my emotions and thoughts were taking a decidedly different turn.

“I guess I am,” I said softly after we were no longer under teacher scrutiny. I sighed. The only people I could talk to about it was Tracy and Cindy. Mainly since I wasn’t sure what was going on with Tabitha. It was the sort of thing where you kind of had to be in the know to understand it.

“I saw you and Lee walking to fifth together,” she said.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I countered, trying to remain calm. “We’re both in the same class after lunch. He was just being, uh, a gentleman.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see her smirk. “Maybe I should clarify. I saw Lee and Pee-Jay walking to fifth together. Not Lee and Sam.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. Though I knew exactly the point she was making.

“I’ve been there, remember? I tried to fight what had been done to me. I was completely determined that I was going to remain true to who I’d been. Even if my body and social standing had changed.” A short, humorless laugh sounded from her mouth. “What I didn’t expect was that I would actually like all that nerdy, sci-fi stuff. Now, I toss on Dragonball Z for background noise while I do my math homework.”

I remembered how eagerly Tracy had agreed to joining our rpg group. Originally, I’d only thrown out the invitation as a curtesy. A favor for Cindy since she was tired of being the only girl in our circle, and she’d heard that Tracy was looking to play the latest edition.

Once she started hanging with us, though, we all realized just how much of a geek she really was. From there, our gatherings branched out from D&D into marathon sessions of Battlestar Galactica, Star Trek, and Firefly. Her coolness with what other would consider “stupid dork shit” was one of the reasons why I was attracted to her. To find out that it had all started with a messed up wish was a bit surreal.

Which made a cold chill slide down my back.

“Wait, does this mean I’m going to stop liking that stuff? I mean, Pee-Jay doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl to grab a handful of dice and roll up a half-elf battlemage.”

Tracy shrugged. “Hard to say. I mean, I didn’t lose everything I was interested in when Tabby dicked me over. I still enjoyed skiing and rollerblading. I just stopped doing those things because it’s not easy to maintain your balance when you’re carrying sixty pounds that you’re not used to.”

Coach Burchett’s shrill whistle prevented me from answering. She turned to look over at Tracy and I, as well as the four girls behind us.

“Okay, you six, on the court. Let’s see if watching has given you any better insight on how to play the game. Davenport, that includes you.”

Wow. I’d heard the occasional rumor that The Butcher really had a mad hatred of the cheer squad. Experiencing it first-hand, though, was truly something else.

I jogged to the other side of the volleyball net, taking up a spot in the back corner. As the rest of my less athletically inclined classmates followed, I dropped into a semi-squatting pose and rocked back and forth, stretching my hamstrings and calves. I didn’t even realize that I was doing it until Tracy and Chloe McDaniel started imitating me.

Blinking, I glanced down at myself, then over at Tracy. I hoped my facial expression adequately conveyed my confusion. It was as if my body was operating on its own. Like on autopilot.

“Muscle memory,” she said softly. “Don’t think about it, just go with it.”

I nodded, trying to blank out my mind and go with the flow. Which, as anyone can attest, it next to impossible. Nothing can fill your mind with useless clutter like trying to not think of anything at all.

The whistle sounded, and one of the girls on the back row of the other side, punched the ball with a closed-fist uppercut. The sphere arced up and came down right next to Chloe, who stood there like a deer in headlights. The ball hit the polished hardwood and bounced out of bounds.

“Point!” Coach Burchett yelled.

Chloe’s face was the color of a brand new fire engine. She glanced around at the rest of us, anxiety and embarrassment plastered all over her face.

I waited until her eyes met mine, then I nodded once as I gave her a half-cocked smile.

“Shake it off, Chloe,” I said. “You’ll get the next one.”

She returned my smile, a bit of her worry seeming to evaporate in an instant. Then she turned back to face the net, eyes focused on the ball.

The next serve came in my direction. As if being pulled by invisible strings, strings that were coming from inside me, I took two steps to the right, put my hands together, and bumped the ball with my forearms. The impact stung slightly, but the ball responded appropriately. It rose in a gentle arc toward the net.

“Sue!” I yelled. “Take it!”

Susan Johnson didn’t look back at me. Instead, she moved until she was under the ball, then used her fingertips to push the descending orb back upward. It rose in an almost perfectly straight line, just an inch or two from touching the net.

“Chloe!” I shouted.

The other girl, her body long and slender, stepped in and hopped. She only had about a foot’s vertical leap, but it was enough. She swung her arm down in a chopping motion, the flat part of her palm creating an audible slapping sound as she connected with the ball.

Our opponents, not expecting any real competition from us, stood there like guys at their first visit to a strip club. Eyes wide and mouths agape.

Chloe’s spike landed between two of them before bouncing out of bounds.

The whistle sounded again. “Point. One to one.”

For the remaining fifteen minutes, the six of us played as a unit. For the most part. If this were an eighties movie, there would be a nice rock-fueled montage that would show all our best moves and end with us leaping up and down in victory.

Alas, it was not to be. It was close, four to six, but in the end our side lost. The girls on the other side of the net cheered and did the winners’ leaps. The five girls on my side looked like they’d just had their puppies kicked by a team of construction workers.

Tracy walked over to me. “Thanks for trying,” she said. “I think it would have been a lot worse without your encouragement.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything, Trace. I mean, I took your advice and let my body just do its thing. I guess with all the changes, Pee-Jay’s body is geared toward being sporty and coordinated.”

Tracy smiled. “We got killed six to zero in the first game. We all expected a repeat performance. Instead, we got you and that nearly bought us the win.”

“Hit the showers, ladies!” the Butcher yelled.

Chloe and the others four who’d been on my team began to walk toward the locker room door, still looking a bit dejected. I rushed over to them.

Chloe had been in more than a couple of classes with Sam over the past few years. I’d always thought she was cute, in a Morticia Gomez sort of way. With her long, thin build and jet black hair, she was constantly mistaken for a goth girl.

“Hey,” I said, moving around to block their retreat. “Good job out there.”

“We lost, though,” Mary Hatling said. “Even with Pee-Jay Davenport on our side, we couldn’t win.”

I blinked. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did she think my being on their team would equate to an automatic victory? Sure, I was the most athletically inclined of the group, but I felt like they’d all contributed far more than me.

My skills hadn’t come from hard work or natural talent. They were from a stupid wishing stone.

“We played as a team,” I said, looking at them. “All of us, working together.” I smirked. “I think I might have missed more easy digs than anyone else. If anyone is to blame for our loss, it’s me.”

You would have thought I just suggested that we ambush the team that had just beat us and hog tie them to the net in preparation of roasting them over a bonfire. They looked at each other for a moment, then back to me.

Behind the rest, Tracy grinned.

“That doesn’t seem right,” Chloe said. “I mean, no offense, but you’re you. And we’re … us.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re a Raiderette,” Mary answered. “Not only that, you’re a member of the elite of the elite. If there’s fault to be found, it isn’t going to be with your group.”

I stood there, speechless, as they filed around me and into the locker room. Then I turned to look at Tracy.

“Is that what I am now? The elite? Just another stuck-up bitch of a snob who thinks she’s better than everyone?”

The other girl shook her head. “I don’t know. As I told you earlier, my memories of Pee-Jay aren’t fully clear. However,” she said, holding up a finger, “I do get the feeling that you are less of a bitch than some of the others.”

“Like Jennifer Winters.”

She nodded. “Precisely. In fact, it’s possible that you, meaning Pee-Jay, have been a countering influence. You know, an antimatter to her matter. Tempering her megalomania, as it were.”

I sighed. “Then I really hope she doesn’t know about the stone.”

Tracy arched a brow. “How would she know about the stone? Unless she’s used it.”

I recounted the brief phone call I’d had right after lunch.

“It’s possible,” Tracy said. “If she used it before Tabitha and I, then we wouldn’t have any memory of what she changed. The only flaw I see is that it takes two people to use the stone. Each of them casting a wish for the other. Do you really think Jen trusts anyone to make a wish for her?”

I thought about the girl who had been a terror to me and my friends since her stupid boobs came in during the summer between eighth and ninth grades. She’d never been a pleasant person to deal with, but suddenly being the only freshman sporting a pair of very noticeable breasts had only increased her disdain for others.

“Nope,” I said. “I don’t even think she would trust her mother that much.”

Back in the locker room, I grabbed the small tray of toiletries from inside my locker, stripped out of my sweaty gym clothes. After pulling off the sports bra, which was also rather damp, my fingers curled around the waistband of my panties and I froze.

I was going to get naked and take a shower. With a bunch of girls who were also naked.

Uncertainty slapped at me. Although I had the slowly cementing acceptance that I was no longer aroused by the sight of undressed females, I wasn’t sure I could pull of bathing with them.

For guys, showering together is a pretty simple affair. You went in, towel around your waist, turned on the water, removed towel, stepped under the spray, quickly soaped up, rinsed, then shut off the water as you grabbed your towel and wrapped it around you again.

You didn’t look at any of the other guys. You hardly talked to them. And you most certainly did not look at their junk. If even the slightest rumor emerged that you were scoping out the manhood on your fellow bathers, you would be branded a flaming pervert for the rest of your school days.

Back in freshman year, there was a guy named Ronnie Boles. He was showering with a bunch of guys from the soccer team. While washing his hair, he got shampoo in his eyes. Blinking and fighting against what had to be some serious pain, he had stumbled away from his own stream of water to that of the guy next to him.

By the time Ronnie realized his mistake and got the soap out of his face, he was staring right down at Johnathan Martin’s meatstick.

No amount of explaining could stem the taunts and teases that made their way through the school that day. Ronnie dealt with it for about a week before he finally convinced his parents to send him to live with his grandmother several states away.

I was pretty sure the rules weren’t as rigid about girls taking a shower together, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t any rules. In most anime series, girls not only bathed together, they washed each other’s backs and fronts and stuff. Surely that was just a Japanese thing, right?

Cocking my head to the side, I listened to the sounds coming from the other side of the locker room. Conversations, far too faint to make out, were taking place. As were a couple of genuine giggles. Definitely not the sort of noises I’d experienced on the guys’ side of the equation. If someone laughed over there, it was usually because another guy had just farted really loudly.

Wow, guys were actually kind of gross.

Being the only one still in the changing area, I quickly pulled down my panties, tossed them in the locker, then wrapped my towel around myself. I’d seen a million times, at least on television and movies, that girls wore their towels in such a way that their boobs and butt were completely covered.

Turns out it’s not such and easy look to achieve. It took me nearly two minutes before I finally figured out that the top corner of the rectangular cloth needed to be tucked down near my chest. Finally ready, I grabbed the plastic carrier and headed toward the showers.

My heartbeat went from slightly elevated to slamming in my chest as each step brought me closer to the sound of running water and female voices. Part of me wanted to just skip the whole thing. After all, the day was pretty much over, right? I could always clean up in the privacy of my own bathroom.

Ugh. Wait. That wouldn’t work. I had that stupid meeting after school. Not sure it would be very Penny-like to show up with dried sweat on my skin and in my hair.

A couple of girls emerged from around the corner, clad in their own towel dresses and laughing about something. When they saw me standing there, they both smiled and said hello. Then they were gone, moving back into the changing room.

I could do this. Just go in there, clean up, and get out. Laugh if someone says something funny. Respond if someone says something to you. Keep your eyes to yourself without making it seem like you’re deliberately keeping your eyes to yourself.

Piece of cake. Right? Unless, of course, the cake is a lie.

Another trio of girls emerged from the steamy room. Caitlin, Monica, and another girl who I think was named Leslie. Caitlin grinned down at me as she passed.

“Good job shaping those gimps into a semblance of a team, Pee-Jay,” she said. “If not for you, they would have gotten stomped again.” Monica and the other girl giggled.

I clenched my jaw for a second, but managed to force a demure smile on my face.

“They just needed inspiration and leadership. That’s all.”

The larger girl shrugged. “Still, you took the reins and kept them focused.”

Okay, so … Caitlin was actually complimenting me. Err, Pee-Jay. For what? Organizing a bunch of girls other people considered useless into an effective team? Was that not what anyone expected from her? That she would give a frack about anyone but herself?

It wasn’t until they were almost gone that I heard Monica say, in a lower voice, “I can’t believe she plays second string to that bitch, Winters. Pee-Jay’s the one who should really be head cheerleader.”

I spun around just in time to see the three of them vanish around the side of a row of lockers. However, it was more than enough time for me to observer that the other two were nodding their heads in agreement with Monica’s opinion.

Me? Head Cheerleader?

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love nothing more than to take Jen down from her pretty little perch. There wasn’t ever a person on the planet who deserved a comeuppance more. Supplanting the snobby tramp who’d turned making my academic life hell her personal goal had a delicious taste to it.

Not that I had any desire to rule the school. One of the reasons why I spent most of my gaming sessions as the DM was because I was crap at leading a party to riches and glory. More often than not, we ended up the lair of Lich King flanked by multiple Beholders. I might be able to buff and heal like nobody’s business, but bossing people around was just not in my nature.

I shook away the idle flights of fancy that swam around in my head and glanced back at the showers. It was time to bite the bullet. Time to face the music. Time to put my big girl panties on. Or, as my favorite zombie killer once said …

Time to nut up, or shut up.

Which, if you think about my current physical situation, was hilarious.

Gripping the plastic handle of the tray tighter, I drew in a breath, and walked into the swirling clouds of steam into the girls’ showers.