Essarr
Rights reserved by author permission to post to big Closet only
I wrestled with a title for this story. It may not be the best title but it works. I also argued with myself over the length of the chapters. finally, I decided to not serialize this epic and post it as one long entry. It may take awhile if you stick with it. 46,000 plus words edited to death by Crusty (not a member here.) I have not written anything for this site in about a year. It is likely the final entry as ideas have dried up there is no other reason. I will be reading others, likely keeping my comments to myself. Thank you for your kind words over the period of my scribbling.
On the final day of school Devon James sat head down avoiding his homeroom teacher’s drone. He knew deep down finals were not good. A bead of sweat clung to his stringy dark brown strands of hair that lay about his collar. He is like his father in that regard though Clayton’s brown locks have receded overtaken by a bald spot. It is another worry for Devon. God, he did not want to be almost bald among the other physical issues he faces. Devon’s grades are bad enough but his immediate worry is the gauntlet awaiting outside. He senses it is almost that time again.
Randy Carson passed him a glance every five minutes or so as if to warn. That wry smile worn by the bully contains a smirk suggesting there will be no safe passage even on the last day of ninth grade. Devon thought, ‘last day of ninth grade hell, if my report card is as bad as I think; I can look forward to another year of this crap with the posse.’ But he had a plan, though without any certainty it will work, it must. It is all he has. The grades were sealed. The envelope in his hands must wait for his parents to open. He is well aware they will be waiting when he arrives home. He is also aware another is in the mail just in case this evidence of failure is somehow lost. Lost is how he felt as Devon is the first out the door.
Like a flash, though that descriptive word falls short of Devon’s rush. Let it suffice to say he went as fast as an overweight short fourteen year old can move. Devon slipped into an unlocked janitor’s closet for immediate sanctuary from what waits outside. Perhaps, it is a quirk of design or a construction joke that a closet has an outside window. Devon did not pause to consider the why of it or did he hesitate to force his girth through a cramped opening. Almost stuck twice he imagined the expense of being found wedged in this window. No excuse could provide a believable explanation. He would become the butt of jokes forever told in South Hills’ school lore. This window faced directly into the woods and that faint path.
His feet hit the ground with a quiet thud almost slipping on the wet grass. Before him, the safety of the trees urged forward motion without a backward glance. Had he looked he would have seen no one is watching. There is never time to look when you are in flight. Devon recalled hearing a quote attributed to an old ball player. Satchel Page supposedly said, “Don’t look back you never know if someone is gaining on you.”
The path, he knew led into a ravine to be followed by a steep climb up to Walnut Street. Once there he could cut cross lots to his back yard on Prospect the next street beyond Walnut. But safety is nearly a mile away. When he gained heavy tree cover Devon walked slowly keeping a cautious eye glancing in every direction watching for the posse. The posse is what he calls Randy and his gang of four devotes. Everyday a new hazing took place in the form of subtle violence presented as teasing, shoving, tripping and threats. Just because, he is short and fat and has a stupid name it is no justification to torment him. ‘Who names their kid after a county in England? Who sticks their kid with a name more often given to girl’s? Did they hate me too? Yeah I know it was handed down by some distant ancestor, but what were they thinking?’
Devon sat on a boulder above the ravine turning the envelope in his hand. ‘I should open it rather than wait for the explosion. At least I will know how bad it is before they do.’ He slowly peeled back the flap being careful not to tear the seal. With horror he viewed three C grades one B and two marked with a large red F. “Shit!” He said aloud while noting the broad script written in red drawn in a black rectangular box at the center of the page. It boldly stated Devon must take summer school to be promoted to tenth grade. “Wonderful, more hell awaits me.” No one heard his muted outburst as he was quite alone in the dense forest, almost.
An old rutted logging road is felt with a thud as Devon’s feet struck the bottom of this narrow swath of forest. He looked in both directions before stepping toward the rise across the lane. His gaze caught a reflection of light from a small rock. Devon picked it up to discover it is not a rock at all. It is a box wrapped in foil or similar substance. About three inches square he nestled the box in his fingers. ‘Light in weight,’ he mused momentarily then dropped it in his book bag suppressing all curiosity. Halfway up the incline he paused for the third time to catch his breath. Poor Devon is vastly out of shape. Forcing himself uphill is an act of great labor. In this location above several large boulders trees took tentative hold forming a dense stand. Devon could not see into the ravine from his safe perch.
Below, a black vehicle is unseen by the boy as it snaked along navigating the old rutted road. It drew to a stop coinciding with Devon cresting the hill. He sat again for a moment to catch his breath. He ignored the no trespassing signs down at the height of land where the old road knifed through a sag in the ridge. They were placed not too far from where the SUV suddenly stopped. Safely on top hidden by big trees he regained his breath then continued home resisting his growing curiosity. He had enough problems to deal with unaware the unnoticed SUV far below compounded those difficulties. He shrugged thinking he heard a vehicle discounting the sound. Nothing less than a tank would attempt driving that road and a tank will generate far more noise. He shrugged dismissively it is nothing to him, so he thought.
Three weeks earlier, Colin Duffy held a bracelet delicately in his large hands. It appeared to be a simple inexpensive adornment found at any cheap mall jewelry counter, one that is worn by young women and teens. It is simple gold band with four fake jewels that changed color depending upon the lighting. The bracelet is anything but that. Colin was aware of everything this object could do. He was highly paid to infiltrate Dale Electronics to secure the prototype now in his grip. ‘Getting it out of here is quite a different task,’ he thought. Duffy knew the bracelet had a tracking device built into it. How to defeat that became his present task. With any project there are failures and design flaws this is what Duffy banked on when he created the substitute.
It took Duffy considerable time to factor a reasonable facsimile in the lab. Nearly perfect the fake bracelet now crafted was switched for the one he held in his hands. He had to remove the tracking device to have any hope of secreting his ill gotten gain out of the building. It was that same tracking device he had placed into the fake. Without any ability to trace the original his employers would reward him lavishly. Three weeks passed before Duffy could complete this task and schedule his drop.
As instructed, the tall solid built man set his package in the arranged location. Duffy prided himself on his creativity. His little box appeared as a rock, a highly reflective rock. It was intended to be there for a few moments. He had worried the glint would attract unwanted attention. Duffy shrugged, ‘this is what the boss wants.’ He turned facing a narrow twisting logging road as instructed he walked down the old road not looking over his shoulder. He could hear the SUV approach from behind. He did not see the man enter the ravine to make the pickup nor did he notice the fat kid.
By mid week Duffy will discover fate had stepped in disrupting his plans. Luck it seems treated Duffy in the same manner as it did Devon. Fate placed Devon in that ravine moments behind the luckless Colin Duffy.
At the same moment Devon entered his house, Marcus Bailey sat at his desk facing Bob Collins his lead designer. Collins is holding the failed bracelet. “I’m not sure what happened Sir, it worked during initial testing but now nothing,” Collins stated certain his boss will vent blaming the lead technician, meaning him.
A frustrated Bailey nodded knowing his client is not going to be happy. He worried a delay could be fatal. He tried to reason how long it will take to create a replacement. Bailey stared at his designer pressing that very question hoping for a satisfactory answer. Marcus Bailey is not one to accept excuses. When a personal fortune rides on performance excuses are likely to be painful for the presenter. Bailey did not like what he heard from Collins. He did not care to hear the problem is because the DNA was lost somewhere after the transfer. He did not want to accept the DNA simply dissolved. After screaming “We need another sample.” Bailey shook his head clearly agitated adding, “Get Duffy on it.”
Dave Evans second in command looked at Bailey with a dubious gaze. He then passed a sheepish glance toward Collins saying nothing. Evans had always hesitated to challenge his boss, especially when raising questions regarding risks. As he raised the issue he could see Bailey’s blood pressure rise and knew to back off. Dropping his challenge he caved yet one more time by sitting back listening to another rant from Bailey.
Bailey began defending his position by informing his second in command he has no choice. Red faced at this moment, the man insisted repeating they have no choice. He had been warned a third insertion is fatal. Bailey also knew there is no one else. “This is only Duffy’s second insertion.” Bailey still talking pressed forward ignoring Evans as the man shook his head. “You know we need the DNA. Collins here, is going to assign the mission to Duffy.”
Marcus Bailey looked out the window allowing a sigh to escape. Once again he pressed Evans “I know how it is presented has to be creative. Duffy has no idea he is sent back in time. I doubt he will realize it when he is sent back again. He will be busy, too busy to notice. Don’t tell me about the risk. Just see to it that it’s done”
A shaken Evans exited the office behind Collins having heard his instructions knowing he is in too deep. He did not envy Collins who stepped toward the approaching Duffy.
Colin Duffy is a retired black operations specialist who had been recruited by Moss Industries to infiltrate Dale Electronics to secure a prototype; the one he left at the drop off point. When he accepted this assignment he had no idea what this trinket could do. He did not want to know. Duffy is a curious sort and he soon discovered more than he wanted to know. Duffy had his instructions and payment is already made to his offshore account. He presently worries, 'will the experts believe the prototype failed and accept his substitute?' That worry is relieved when Collins exited the boss’ office. The man is visibly upset. The first words uttered by Bob Collins were, “Duffy I have a job for you.”
Duffy knew at once his ruse worked but he grew nervous about being inserted yet one more time. Duffy stalled hoping to delay knowing full well to refuse will raise questions. He knew he had to do this, whatever it is they required of him. Then he will disappear to the islands and the life he deserved. What concerned him about being inserted yet one more time is that damn lump on his back. Duffy accepted it knowing full well he is the one who caused the need to go back.
Mother’s expression betrayed her anger as she viewed her son’s report card. Mrs. James did not notice the dollop of glue expertly placed under the envelope flap to conceal it had been opened. “You know what this means. Summer school for you, your father is going to be upset. Go to your room and don’t come out until he gets home.”
Silently the boy climbed the stairs tossing his book bag into the corner of his room dreading what the old man will say. ‘I hope Randy and his posse won’t be joining me. I do not need that hell though I expect they will.’ He stared out his window waiting as hours passed dreading his dad’s arrival. All too soon he heard the car pull into the driveway and the front door opening. He drew close to his bedroom door opening it crack to hear his parents’ conversation below.
“Joyce this is the last straw, fifty dollars a course and he has to go to Bryant Academy ten miles away.” Mrs. James nodded listening to her husband without interrupting. Clayton continued, “at least he can take the bus. The school agreed to transport since they do not offer summer courses. He has to be there at eight to ride the bus. Classes are nine to noon. I don’t like it any more than you do.” Clayton James took a deep breath he is not done yet. “The costs are coming out of his allowance where is he now?” Mother pointed up to his room as Clay began to ascend the steps.
Clayton James was ready to explode as he ascended the stairs. At the final step Mr. James had gained a measure of control. The pathetic vision of his son stood before him. Devon tried to plead using the lamest excuse Mr. James ever heard. It almost caused the man to laugh in the kid’s face. “Yes you will and the expense will be deducted from your allowance.”
Devon thought he might be able to excuse his grades when he addressed his father. “I’m sorry dad math and history were difficult. I just did not get it, I’ll try harder, I promise.” The whining did little to settle father. This became apparent rather quickly when Devon read his father’s expression. Having to pay for summer classes did not set too well with the kid. Devon’s eyes widened in response to father’s demands. “That means no money all summer.” Devon’s answer did release a stifled laugh no longer contained by dad.
Once regaining his composure Clayton informed Devon, “You are correct son, see you do understand math. Understand this too, if you ace either or both courses I will refund the cost of that course.” The devilish grin on father’s face betrayed the thought there is no danger in that happening. Dad could see Devon blink at the offer. Dad knew full well the impossibility of that task. Clay was never one who took risk. Mr. James is certain he will not be paying fifty or a hundred dollars back to his son. He could not resist issuing another command. “I suggest you study until dinner. Don’t forget school starts on Monday.” Dad closed the door and went downstairs.
Devon, dressed in jeans and a tee felt the heat from the sun beating on the slate roof of his second story bedroom. He quickly changed into a pair of shorts and realized his books were turned in at school today. ‘At least I have an excuse for not studying.’ He sat there staring into a mirror gazing at his reflection. All five-feet-five inches and one-hundred-sixty pounds of flab haunted his vision. He abruptly turned away disgusted with what he saw. It is no wonder he is friendless and the target of every bully in town.
Dinner as expected centered upon admonitions warning strongly suggesting this second chance had better not be wasted. Devon did not want to hear the non stop lecture as he poked at his food. The last thing he wanted was food it seemed to be the source of his anguish. Clay watched his son pick absently at his dinner aimlessly. Clayton’s patience having finally expired, caused him to dispatch Devon to his room. “I think you need to go upstairs and take time to consider your position.”
Devon entered his room happy at least they did not ground him for his only free weekend of the summer. He will have no free time until the end of August. Summer school ends two weeks before the fall term begins. Nine weeks of pure hell, June 17th to August 16th He sat on his bed for several minutes before reaching into his book bag. He was focused on his MP3 player when his fingers touched rock shaped box. He stared at the foil wrapping for a moment before peeling it back. Inside the box he saw a bracelet which he turned in his hands. It was gold in color though he doubted it was real gold. ‘Some cheap alloy,’ he thought. It weighed next to nothing as he turned it around noticing something written on the reverse side. “Trope? What the hell does that mean?”
The simple delicate gold bracelet had four tiny crystals reflecting light. The first three were darker than the fourth appearing lighter in density revealing the same rose color. Devon noticed as he turned the bracelet, first toward then away from the window. The colors appeared to change with each slight turn. Pastel colors morphed from light purple to pinkish with the slightest turn. In every instance three crystals were equal in density while the fourth faded reflecting a lighter hue. ‘Who cares I’m not into bracelets.’ Absently he slipped it onto his wrist where it gripped snuggly. He held his arm out to gaze at it while the reflections appeared to flicker. All at once he felt dizzy, his hands went flush pressed flat against the surface of his bed to support his position while his eyes closed for a few seconds.
When he opened them he saw a girl with sandy hair styled in a pixie cut. He stared at the pretty girl. ‘Not pretty,’ he thought ‘though better than average.’ She was wearing an obvious girl’s tee tucked into denim skirt. Startled, he glanced down to see he is the girl. ‘What the F!’ In near panic he stood staring down at himself. Devon felt taller at least his line of vision seemed higher. Five-feet-seven inches according to the lines carved into his height scale drawn on the door frame. Certainly without using the bathroom scale to prove an answer ‘her’ weight is at least sixty pounds less. Two smallish mounds pressed against the tee obviously belonging to the girl he appeared to be. He quickly pulled off the bracelet falling back onto the bed. When his eyes reopened the old Devon was back.
“Shit, shit, shit what the hell is this thing? Not only did I turn into a babe it changed the clothes I was wearing.” He placed the bracelet into the box burying it at the bottom of his book bag. Devon spent the rest of the evening pacing in his room trying to rationalize what had happened; certain he was in a bad dream. Frantically he changed into his pajamas crawling into bed. When he awoke it came as a start. The girl was back. Devon discovered he is wearing a girl’s sleep shirt of some delicate material. The shirt he felt is made of nylon or satin or something else he knew nothing about. The bracelet is on his wrist. ‘When did I put that on?’ He quickly removed it to discover everything seamlessly changes back to normal. Scared out of his mind he went into the bathroom for his shower.
Devon’s parents kept him busy all weekend with various chores, mowing the lawn, cleaning the garage and of course picking up his room. He was too scared and way too busy to go near that bracelet. Curiosity would not let him forget it but terror kept the thing at bay. At several points over the weekend he wondered what would happen if he showered while wearing the bracelet. Each time that thought arose he blushed purging it out of his mind. Something deep inside told him not to go there.
Martha Sanderson sat stiffly as she glared at Marcus Bailey she could barely contain her anger. Her icy stare reflected her fury upon learning of a delay. Martha has little time for delays and counted upon the promised weekend transfer. “What do you mean there is a delay? We both know I do not have much time. You promised me delivery this weekend. I am ready to transfer the five million to your account where is my item?” The elderly matron is eager to secure the youthful body promised to her for the payment made. She stared across the conference table at a rattled Marcus Bailey.
Bailey for his part understood the woman’s anger. He is put off as well. All of his scheming put his career at risk. Everything he carefully planned is suddenly in danger because a trinket had a meltdown; He tried to appease the woman, a woman who could make serious trouble for him. “Martha, please,” Bailey stated in a calm voice. “There is a problem with the sample and we need to get another. It will be ready tomorrow.”
The elderly woman calmed somewhat upon hearing the promise. “You are certain!” Mr. Bailey I do not take broken promises lightly.”
Once again Bailey smiled more as a stall than with any certainty he can deliver, “You know we test these things first to be sure nothing goes wrong. Gloria Marsh will be replaced at the exact point the accident occurred. You will continue her life once the extraction is made. You selected the girl you wanted. You know she dies in a crash. It is a simple matter of removing her after impact and inserting you in a replica of her body made from her DNA. The bracelet restructures your body into a duplicate of hers. It becomes permanent during your transport back in time.”
Martha sweeps a hair from her brow, “What if I choose not to travel back in time? I am not certain I want to become a teenaged girl.” Doubts had begun to manifest within the woman ever since she agreed to this mad scheme. Martha Sanderson is a powerful political player as the chair of the Democratic Party for this state. The reality of becoming a teen subject to parental whims losing her power shakes her. ‘But’ she considered, ‘I gain nearly seventy years and substantial wealth as well.’ She sat back to consider Bailey trying to still her nerves.
Bailey erms, “Martha, without insertion you would only appear to be the girl. The illusion last as long as you wear the bracelet. You will have a problem of identification. You could not use her ID because she will be declared legally dead. You cannot propose to live as a teenager with no support and no ID”. Bailey presses on, “During the insertion process permanence occurs solidifying your new persona. We have no idea what happens with repeated uses by wearing and removing the bracelet. We have a good idea of what happens if you lose the bracelet. No you must go back making it permanent.”
Sanderson blinked, “I understand,” she answers in a demure voice appearing to accept the process. The woman then mutters in a wavering voice, “what if I request a more mature persona?”
Duffy stood in the transport room having completed a briefing of his current assignment. He smiled understanding his ruse had worked. ‘They need another sample of the girl’s DNA meaning they bought my switch.’ It was at that moment he read his text message. The message came from his handler sounding threatening. ‘What do they mean the product was not there?’ Duffy nearly panicked fully aware he placed it at the drop off as instructed. He tensed having confirmed the money had already been transferred to his offshore account, Duffy realized he needed to act quickly employing his backup plan. The plan will have to wait as there is no way out of this mission. The chamber doors are already sealed forcing him to complete this operation. Duffy marveled over how Dale Electronics came up with this method of travel. He is uncomfortable with their insertion process not understanding it. He is certain there is a level of risk he cannot fathom. He shrugged instantly finding himself in a back yard late at night.
Sneaking into the girl’s room to snip a lock of her hair proved ridiculously simple. He was in and out within mere minutes. His problem now is to exit the Dale compound without being detected. He is fully aware his employers will be after him as they do not have a sense of humor. Duffy has made only a few trips into the past having no idea time travel is involved. In each insertion he found himself in a contained isolated place revealing nothing to suggest time travel. All of his missions were for extremely short durations. So far, he has not figured it out. Why should he? Traveling three weeks into the past presents no visible difference from the present.
Nathan Moss sat hands clasped together as he regards Benton Kay across his conference table. It is late on the same Saturday night Duffy extracted the DNA delivering it to the Dale compound. “What happened Ben where is the product? Did Duffy double cross us or did your agents rip us off?” Moss did not trust his partner and would not be surprised if Kay himself is involved in a rip off. His steely gaze bore in on his partner waiting for an answer.
Kay cleared his throat, “we are trying to find out. It is not likely our people are lying. They don’t have the stones to do that. It looks like Duffy is pulling a fast one.”
“Just what is it that Dale has?” Moss asked in a grave voice, “Does anyone understand this?”
Kay blinked having gone over this several times still frustrated due to having little information. “All we know for certain is they have a method to clone a person’s DNA and place their clients into it.” He shrugged, “The problem is once it is done there is no trace of the duplicate person wearing the new body. We are lost regarding the process and keep coming up empty trying to find these people. You know Dale has government level security. We were lucky to get Duffy in there. He claims he only knows the damn thing works. They have kept him in the dark as well. Each person has one task not knowing what the other is doing. What do we do with Duffy?”
Moss leaned forward in his chair stroking his chin speaking slowly. “Fortunately we have a back door into his account. The money we sent has been retrieved. Our friend has nowhere to go. We need to impress upon him to deliver the product. Get your people on it. What happens to Duffy is of no consequence as long as we secure the device.”
Kay returned a smile agreeing to pass on his partner’s instructions.
Duffy had taken only eight or ten steps down the hall after delivering the sample when the lights started blinking. The pulsing barely started when the pa announcement began repeating the same bland warning over and over again. Duffy is used to this bullshit. The facility is in lock down. He quickly rushes to his quarters knowing the security check will occur within minutes. The drone keeps repeating as Duffy reaches his quarters. People were rushing as if being chased. Duffy knew patrol robots armed with lasers will be released into the halls in five minutes. He had never encountered one of them but heard stories about their crippling fire power leaving people disabled for hours, sometimes permanently.
Safely in his room his video screen activated to allow Duffy to report he is inside. A single word flashed ‘confirmed’ on the video screen followed by a loud metallic click. There is nothing he can do but wait it out. Whenever the company initiated a process as they called it everyone is ordered to their quarters. It is usually an hour of sitting in the sparse room without outside contact. There are no windows anywhere in this bunker. Bunker aptly describes the concrete block building where workers are housed. Cell signals and internet access is shut down as is cable TV. Duffy paced back and forth trying to factor a plan to extricate himself from this prison. He had no idea his deposit has been wiped. Duffy did know no one would be leaving this compound tonight. He lay on his bunk brows furrowed with worry.
Martha Sanderson stood beside Marcus Bailey in front of the transport room. She placed a cheap bracelet on her wrist as instructed. The silver haired woman sat in a plastic molded chair. Her eyes scanned the chamber as her nerves began to pulse.
The tech nodded to her with a plastic smile issuing instructions. “When transit is activated you will instantly change into sixteen year old Gloria Marsh. During the transit process the bracelet will evaporate permanently locking you into her replacement body. You may or may not have great detail of her memories.”
The woman stared beginning to waffle her resolution. “What do you mean may or may not have?”
Bailey, who is also present, takes a deep breath. “Generally speaking the new body retains memories from the DNA but not always.” Bailey knew this is a lie but he told it anyway. It relaxes his customers. The man issues a helpful hint or suggestion to assist his victim to cope. “In this case you have a very good almost fail proof backup. You see when you arrive you will be lying on the ground next to a car wreck. Gloria was having sex with her boyfriend Luke Chase in the back seat of his car. A truck plowed into them killing both. We extracted her body allowing you to be placed safely outside. If you cannot access Gloria’s complete memories fake amnesia from the accident until things come back. They always do, sometimes slower than others.”
“You mean you killed a girl to get me this body. I cannot allow that!” She exclaimed showing her shock.
Bailey shakes his head. “We killed no one. This is what happened to the girl three weeks ago. We search news reports finding candidates who had fatal accidents. Our process allows us to copy their DNA so we can replace them. Think of it this way we saved Gloria’s parents considerable anguish from losing a daughter. We are doing a public service. You get a new life, the parents keep their child and we make a profit.”
The woman’s wry smile signals her assent as Bailey reminds her. “All you have to do is wait by the car for the EMTs to get there. If you find you have insufficient memories you can claim the accident caused it. Are you ready?”
Martha nodded as she sat in the chamber. ‘Imagine going from eighty to sixteen and having a prettier body.’
Bailey gave the signal with a slight nod. He watched the new Gloria fade from view. Bailey wasted little time calling Evans, “Meet me in my office for the debriefing.”
Evans and Bailey listened as two agents reported events at the accident scene. Both were satisfied to learn all went well. The extraction of the dead girl had gone as smoothly as in previous operations. She has been processed by the program and there is nothing left to find. Martha Sanderson appeared dazed as projected. The EMTs found her lying by the car where she reported leaving the vehicle to relieve herself seconds before the accident. Bailey laughed when informed EMTs determined she is in shock and took her to the hospital.
The agents trailed the ambulance to discover the prognosis is shock with the girl having little or no recall about the accident. Due to their ability to make these insertions through time travel the events took place three weeks earlier than this debriefing. One of Baileys’ requirements is the agents are to do a follow-up check on the day of the meeting. That meant immediately following the insertion of an hour ago.
It may have been mere minutes ago when Dale Laboratories initiated this process but for the agents it meant three weeks lurking about the plains of Oklahoma. Appearing on the video screen, two nameless agents submitted their report. The lead agent spoke in a clipped official voice.
“Your Gloria is now a resident in Enid, Oklahoma. She appears to be assimilating into the family seamlessly. We followed monitoring at a safe distance. She is good. Your girl leaned heavily on the memory loss charade. You can tell the old biddy was a politician. Heaven help these rubes down here.”
Bailey sat back rocking in his chair brimming with satisfaction mentally counting a few million added to his account. He turned to Evans, “now for our Duffy problem.”
The Monday morning dread arrived all too soon for Devon as he crawled out of bed at six-thirty. It is one hour an a half before having to present himself at his school to catch the bus. The near mile or more walk likely presented a gauntlet posed by the posse. Father had been clear informing his son dad’s work schedule did not allow time to drive him to school. That is unless he wanted to be dropped off at seven-thirty being forced to wait in front of school for thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of being a standing target did not meet with Devon’s approval. There is no cover there, no coffee shop or store to wait in, only the locked school building and a large track of parking lots. No, he would walk the gauntlet hoping for enough cover along the way.
South Hills middle school sat south of where he lived. It sat in a large complex of parking lots separating it from the high school. Senior high sat further toward the city on the same property next to the football field. There were no houses or stores where he could seek refuge. Devon spent the last year learning every hiding place between school and home. No, the exposed walk is safer than a standing target. He considered waving father off at the front door.
Clayton simply commented, “Well son if you prefer to walk rather than visiting with your friends in front of school it is no skin off my nose.”
Those words from father echoed in Devon’s head as he set out. ‘No skin off my nose? What kind of stupid comment is that?’ Devon questioned to himself as he watched dad leave. He resigned himself to nine weeks of walking the gauntlet in both directions five days a week. For what purpose, do they really think he will manage a crash course of history and math? ‘Fat chance,’ Devon thought as he set foot on the sidewalk book bag dangling from one shoulder. As luck would have it he managed a mere two blocks, perhaps a tenth of a mile before spotting an advanced scout for the posse a block ahead of him. Devon knew the moment the kid confirmed he saw him the rest would be called. He ducked behind a wide tree looking in each direction seeing no one.
Perhaps the kid, Carl Gilbert recognized him and went to tell the others. Devon had no way of knowing he only knew Carl is no longer standing a block away. Devon did not have a lot of time to dally. He could not afford to miss the school bus. His parents would go nuts and if he misses three classes he will be kicked out and there is no refund. Devon wiped his brow trying to figure this out, ‘what to do?’ He dropped his hand to his side accidentally brushing against the lump in his pocket. The bracelet, ‘are you shitting me?’ He pushed that thought from his mind. That is until he looked from behind the tree to see not only Carl walking toward him but he had company.
There are times when desperate circumstances cause panicked solutions. He slid the bracelet over his hand clasping it on his wrist. Within seconds that dizzy feeling reappeared. His eyes blinked then reopened. He felt the cool air against his legs as he looked down to see his now very attractive smooth skin resting below a khaki colored skirt riding at the knees.
Devon stepped out from behind the tree straightening his knit sweater which is opened revealing a blue oxford blouse. Grateful his girl is wearing white sneakers with a pink swoosh rather than some ankle breaking fashion thing. He stepped cautiously forward. There they were Randy and his posse walking toward him. Randy glared at Carl, “Where is he? You said you saw him.”
Carl returned Randy’s glare not the least intimidated. “I don’t know. He must have spotted me.”
They were about to walk past Devon when Randy stopped locking eyes on her. “Hello there,” he says in a sing song voice. “Excuse me but did you see a fat kid a few minutes ago?” It is Randy’s raspy smoker’s voice directed at what he saw as a pretty girl.
Devon continues walking trying to ignore them. A devilish thought strikes causing the girl to stop. Turning back toward Randy, she gives him one of those stares. The one a pretty girl issues to someone regarded as a gnat not worth her trouble. “Fat kid? There was one running toward the ravine a few minutes ago.”
Without another word Devon continues walking toward school leaving the posse who are now running toward the gully. ‘That was too easy. I guess I found a way to safely walk to school.’ The remaining few blocks to school had been trance like. Kids were offering appreciative stares in his direction making him feel uncomfortable. Devon noticed a greater number of students as he neared the bus. Most of them were guys he knew from walking the halls at school. None of them had as much as spoken to him. Now they were all stealing glances and all smiling. Devon’s eyes diverted to his wrist noticing a delicate gold watch and the bracelet which gave off a pinkish reflection from the stones. ‘Where did that watch come from? I have to remove this bracelet but there are too many people watching.’
Devon found himself standing in a line as the bus monitor began checking passes. He is standing in line not on purpose it is because the rush of students toward the bus pushed Devon along. His goal intended to find a tree, out building or any secluded spot to remove the bracelet. He could not extricate himself from the push of the crowd. Forced to enter the bus in his girl disguise Devon quickly found an empty pair of seats. Whenever riding this glorified can known as a school bus, Devon sought out the seat opposite the driver. That spot was occupied forcing the boy to find an empty pair of seats in the back. He sat in the aisle seat not wishing to be trapped next to the window. That is not a good place.
Almost at once a girl he did not know sat next to him. “Hi I’m Pat Clancy, new here what about you?”
Devon shrugged upon hearing new here and blurted without thinking, “Devon James.” It is a good thing Devon’s voice is soft as no one else heard. ‘Shit what did I just do? Everybody in school knows Devon the fat blimp. At least Pat is new here, what am I going to do now?’
“Nice to meet you Dev, we just moved to North Ridge and I have to take summer classes to catch up. What about you?”
“It is pretty much the same thing. I have to raise my grade in two classes or stay behind.” Devon answered wondering where his comfort level is coming from. He is never relaxed speaking with girls, especially pretty ones. Come to think of it no girl ever talks to him.
Pat giggled, “Well we seem to be in the same boat.”
Soon the bus stopped and the driver called out “Bryant School, all out for Bryant. The next stop is Covington School.”
Only a few kids exited with Pat and Devon. The boy did not know any of the kids who got off. Devon says to Pat, “I don’t know any of these kids.”
Pat answers, “They are Bryant kids taking advanced programs. The kids who stayed are going to another school. It seems you are the only one from South who got sent to Bryant.”
Devon glanced around seemingly to be looking for something. Devon thought, ‘I need to find a quiet corner to change back to me.’
Before Devon could spot a suitable place Pat spoke. “Dev I know what you are thinking.”
Startled, Devon turned to face Pat, “What?” His thoughts were, ‘look at this place, preppy central. Geeze it looks like something out of the Hamptons or New England old money. I did not think I would be going to prep school.’
Pat reads his expression, “I told you I know what you were thinking. Don’t look so shocked, it is a prep school.”
The pair followed a slate walkway across an expansive lawn. The boy scanned with his eyes discovering hundreds of places where he could change. Before Devon could react the flow of the crowd once again pushed them forward. It did not help that Pat seemed attached to his hip. Kids were being dropped by private cars rather than busses. He found himself nudged too close to the entrance where a crowd gathered. A young man sat at a desk with stacks of papers. He looked at two girls now pressed to his desk and questioned Pat and Devon. “Do you have your acceptance papers?”
Pat and Devon both nodded as Pat handed over an index sized card while Devon fished in the book bag. “Right here,” Devon offered.
“I’m Eric, one of the proctors.” He glanced down at the cards the girls produced. “I will assign both of you to Reagan Murphy. She is really cool, you will like her.” He signaled to a tall, slender young woman most likely a college student.
The woman approached with a smile. Eric handed the cards off to her, “This is Pat and Devon I’m sure you can guide them through the process.”
Reagan smiled, “Certainly, step this way girls.” Pat followed behind Reagan as Devon’s eyes searched desperately for somewhere, anywhere to hide. Reagan turned to Devon, “A shy one,” the proctor giggled. “I don’t bite really.” She points to an alcove with wing chairs. “We can sit here for a minute.”
Both girls sat facing Reagan who reported. “There are only fifty kids allowed in the summer class and there are ten of us proctors. We each get five. I already met with my other three girls so let me explain how this works. Bryant does not allow failure. In addition to your classes the Academy has assigned me to tutor you if needed. There is a test every Thursday and your scores are mailed to your parents. They should arrive on Saturday. I get a copy as well. If any of my five students score lower than a B I go to your house and tutor you to get the grade up.”
Devon nearly panicked. Not only did they think he is girl the shit will hit the fan if this woman shows up at his house. “Tutor, are you serious?” Devon blurts in a squeaky voice.
Reagan smiles while nodding. “Yes we want you to be assured no stone is left unturned to guarantee you will be successful. Bryant students turn out to be the best in the country. We have had corporate CEOs, Presidents and Supreme Court Justices among our alumni.”
Pat appeared almost giddy while Devon squirmed trying to hold in an impending melt down. Reagan went on. “Class size is very small on purpose. All the kids get individual attention.”
The college girl led Pat and Devon down an impressively appointed hallway to a line of doors. She pointed to her left, “Today classes are shortened to allow for introductions. Pat this is your Advanced Literature classroom with Professor Caldwell. You are taking placement courses for Bryant so you can attend here in the fall, correct?”
Pat nodded with a blush. Reagan points to the opposing door, “Devon, Professor Wilkins awaits you in Math class. I will catch up with you before the next class.”
Both girls nodded turning to their separate rooms. Devon balked still hoping to find a place out of sight to take off the bracelet. Reagan watched motioning Devon to go in, what else could he do? The room was unlike any class room he had ever seen. Walls were paneled in rich mahogany with bright yellow draperies tied back against multiple two story ornate windows. Professor Wilkins stood before an elegant desk fronting the most unusual row of desk and chairs. Not only were the desk screaming affluence the chairs were padded and appeared to be covered with real leather. Devon sat in a quiet corner glancing around at other students already assembled. “You must be Devon,” the Professor said in a cheerful but quiet voice. “Come closer, don’t sit back there.”
It was then Devon noticed only five other students were in the room. ‘Shit, only six of us, how in hell can I hide for an hour and a half when there are only six of us?'
Marcus Bailey sat in his office ready for the weekly Monday morning meeting. He is more than pleased with the weekend’s profitable transaction. He rocked back with a satisfied smile facing his partner in crime. “Evans, how many clients are waiting placement?”
Bob Evans having counted his share of their enterprise appeared cautious. “We have four but still have not located enough products to satisfy the need. We are severely hampered by limitations of which you are well aware. The window of opportunity is very narrow as you well know.”
Bailey leaned forward striking a conspiratorial pose. “Yes the three week limit is too restrictive.”
Nodding, Evans stood walking toward the window gazing at the forest beyond. “We still do not fully understand how these bracelets work and why we can only go three weeks into the past.”
“Much less understand why the future is blocked to us, we cannot go forward at all.” Bailey added.
Evans returned to his seat. “Perhaps it is because the future has not been written yet. What do we do now?”
After several minutes of silence Bailey finally spoke. “I would like to know what happened to that bracelet causing it to suddenly stop working. Then there is Duffy, he has been acting strange like he is up to something. What I want you to do is set up a meeting with Collins to discuss the bracelet. I want to know what he found and keep Duffy busy. Send him back for more samples; there is that college girl who dies of an overdose. One well heeled client may be interested in obtaining that persona.”
Evans smiles presenting a knowing stare, “The pregnant one, who in hell wants that?”
Bailey laughs, “I am thinking of Rossi he is always trying to negotiate a discount. When you buy on the cheap you can’t expect perfection.”
But Rossi is a guy,” Evans responds.
Still laughing Bailey bobs his head up and down agreeing, “True and not a nice guy at that. If we pull a game on him it will have to be our farewell job. There is enough in the offshore accounts to support our future selves. Send Duffy out to secure her DNA, just in case.”
Devon barely settled at her desk when Professor Wilkins began passing out a stack of papers to each student. Each packet contained ten pages stapled together. Devon’s eyes flashed realizing, ‘it’s a test!’ It appeared to Devon to be evil. It increased his discomfort to notice no one else seemed concerned. The three boys in the class seemed to be more interested in Devon as their gaze had settled upon her. Their gaze is one appearing to be fixed.
Wilkins displayed an evil grin as he spoke following his cough designed to distract the boys from Devon. “This is not really a test. I call it information gathering to help me focus on your abilities. I can then assist you in areas where you need the most help. Once you complete the assignment place it on my desk then you can go to the student lounge two doors down the hall on the right. I will come get you when everyone has completed their sheets. Go nowhere other than the lounge.”
Devon began focused with dread on those terrible pages. He did not hear the Professor whisper in Clay Bradley’s ear.
Wilkins had watched a nervous girl shuffling the papers he passed to the students. He had been watching Clay Bradley’s shameless leer. Not being able to resist Wilkins bent to the boy’s ear. “Son I know she is quite fetching. Do yourself a favor don’t be so obvious.” The professor grinned as beads of sweat rose on the poor boy’s brow. The other two young men received a silent warning from Wilkins’ gaze.
Math class ends at ten twenty allowing Devon a mere ten minutes to find Reagan and his next classroom. He glanced toward a clock, ‘It is only nine thirty you gotta be kidding me.’ Lowering his eyes toward the still unanswered first problem he squirmed. ‘This may as well be Greek. I do not even recognize these strange formulas. Shit, shit ,shit!’ As in a haze he began to scribble answers not understanding a thing he wrote. After an eternity of severe angst Devon folded his papers and walked to the front of the room.
Professor Wilkins looked up then simply pointed to his desk uttering one very quiet, “Done?” His wry smile is off putting as Devon dropped the assignment onto the desk quietly backing off with a nod. “Impressive,” Wilkins commented. “You may go to the lounge. Be back at ten fifteen.” Devon failed to notice the other students glance up from their papers as he walked out.
Reagan stood in the hall waiting as Devon exited the classroom. The redheaded proctor raised a brow of surprise upon seeing Devon. Before she could comment a door opened behind Reagan. She turned to see Pat Clancy. “Hmm,” she clears her throat before speaking, “Ms. Clancy and Ms. James so soon? I should not be surprised I guessed you two were whiz kids.” Before either could respond Reagan ushered them to the lounge.
It was at the moment Pat appeared that Devon noticed the time. ‘Nine forty-five are you kidding me. Fifteen minutes to answer every question wrong? They are going to throw me out of here.’ Devon knew at this point of the game the uselessness of trying to locate a quiet corner to ditch the bracelet. It is not due to a lack of having a single moment alone in his girl persona he realized. ‘Shit how could I possibly explain showing up as a fat butterball of a boy? I am stuck going to school like this everyday.’ His brows felt like they curled noticeably when his further thoughts emitted, ‘not to worry they are about to throw me out.’
The lounge did not escape the elaborate appointments that every other room in this building enjoyed. Upon the walls instead of polished wood paneling they were pained in warm colors. In addition the walls are adorned by elegant landscapes and sculptures. Clearly, the students here were not cut from the same rough out of control louts in his regular school. Devon had the impression this room is a combination of library and social meeting place where the elite academic students gathered. Stiffly, he sat in a wing chair facing the proctor and Pat who appeared giddy.
“Tell me Patty, do they call you Patty?” Reagan asked the girl from North Ridge.
Pat blushed as she answered Reagan’s question, “Just Pat and never Patricia. They only use that when I’m in trouble which is often.” She giggled passing a knowing glance at Devon before adding, “Some call me Trish.”
Reagan continued, “What did Professor Caldwell have you do?”
Trish blinked, “Write a page of descriptive prose explaining what I saw in the classroom. She wanted to determine our writing capability. It was simple really.”
Turning to Devon, Reagan spoke in a soft voice. “I know what Wilkins does. He gives you that God awful math test that drives kids nuts. I remember taking it and I hated it. In fact I did not finish it, ran out of time. You did it in fifteen minutes? Don’t you dare tell me you turned in blank sheets. You are dead if you did that.” Reagan’s gaze almost cut through a terrified Devon.
The poor girl struggled to speak. But speak Devon did, it seems as a girl Devon found a voice. “Worse I answered every question without a clue guessing I got everyone wrong.”
Reagan lowered herself into a seat next to Devon. “I bet you did fine. If not I will be by one evening this week to help you at home.”
Pat whispered in Devon’s ear, “Give me your cell number so I can call you tonight.”
Devon flushed; Pat is the first person to ever ask for his now her number. In fact Devon did not know the number. No one ever called him before. “When we get outside, on the bus,” he replied stalling. The poor kid at least knew how to look up the number. But he could not do it in front of somebody.
Suddenly they could hear a bell ringing inside this room. “That is your signal to go back to class,” Reagan stated.
‘To get reamed out by Wilkins,’ Devon thought.
That same Monday morning Devon suffered through his fantastic nightmare at prep school Duffy is aroused by a loud knocking on his door. Without waiting for a response a loud click is heard as the door opened. Two burly guards stood in the entry. “Duffy get up you have business needing your attention.”
Duffy arose with a start, ‘are they onto the bracelet?’ Before he could gain his senses a guard replied. “The medics sent us. It is time for your physical checkup.”
Duffy relaxed understanding at once they had another mission for him. For some unexplained reason they insisted upon a physical before they zapped him somewhere. Relieved, he simply nodded. Guard number two maintained his no nonsense demeanor. “Hurry up, we will wait but not for long.”
Colin shuffled into the shower not arguing understanding these military types have no patience. Stanfield methodically explored Duffy’s cyst asking carefully worded questions. If Duffy sensed any concern he did not betray this information to the doctor. In Duffy’s business trust is not a common item.
Following Duffy’s demanding physical three men sit at a conference table. Murray Stanfield met with Bailey and Evans. Stanfield is the lead doctor at Dale Laboratories. He was summoned to discuss Bailey’s issues with the insertions. He did not care about those who died; he worried about the impact on the project. Bailey opened with his most grave concern. “Murray, Dave tells me a third insertion is fatal and we cannot use Duffy for anymore collections. What is your position on that?”
Stanfield struck a thoughtful pose. “Dave is partially correct meaning a third insertion could be risky. My studies suggest that is not a given.”
Evans quickly jumped in defending his belief. “Wilsey died after the third insertion are you denying that?”
Stanfield defended quickly with a certain answer. “Calm down Dave. We have made several discoveries after reviewing the coroner’s report. As you know a cyst develops the first time a person is inserted. It appears to be benign, at first. The cyst appears approximately one centimeter in length and with each insertion a centimeter is added. At ten centimeters a toxic fluid is released into the system proving fatal. Prior to reaching maturity there is no outward evidence a toxin exist. In Wilsey’s case the growth quadrupled with each insertion. This event has not occurred with any other explorer. That is why we insist on physicals before inserting our agents.”
Evans continues expressing his concern, “You have no idea what causes this?”
Stanfield shakes his head. “I cannot assure you that sudden explosive growth will not occur as a random event. I can only say it has not happened to anyone else. I tend to accept Wilsey’s is an isolated event. We may never know the cause or origin of the toxin. What we do know is it is lethal. We cannot allow what we have learned to leak out. That is until our science is well secure and we have answers. We know others are curious and are trying to infiltrate this organization.”
Bailey excused the doctor after reviewing Duffy’s latest physical. Once alone with Evans, “I suggest you bring in Mr. Duffy. We will discuss the bracelet issue after we insert him.”
Meanwhile at Moss headquarters Nathan Moss spoke to Benton Kay. “Ben, sources inform me Dale has locked the compound down. Transmissions in and out are blocked. We cannot contact Duffy and have no idea what they are doing.”
Nathan raises a hopeful countenance. “Do you think they are onto him?”
Ben considers for a moment. “They could have intercepted his drop and sanctioned him when he returned. That is highly likely because only minutes lapsed between the time he said he secreted the product and our people arrived. If they were waiting it would explain everything.”
Moss sits back, “then we will not have to deal with Duffy. Dale will eliminate our problem for us. On the other hand if Duffy shows himself are your people ready to end this?”
Ben nodded, “Duffy will not know what hit him.”
Once again Duffy finds himself in the transmission room to quickly experience the now familiar near blackout felt during previous missions. His eyes open to find himself in a long hallway aligned with drab pea green walls. ‘Typical hospital setting,’ he thought. ‘Now to find Ms. Hopkins room and get this over with.’ Duffy glanced at the rather attractive young woman who had tubes sticking into every orifice. ‘Pity so pretty and so screwed up, why would a lovely girl like this want to off herself?’ He asked before shrugging. Duffy simply gazed at the honey blond perhaps no more than twenty-one, perhaps less. He did not know nor did he truly care. His was simply a reaction to her plight. ‘Such a waste.’ Duffy quietly secured a lock of her hair and backed out into an isolated hallway. He checked his account to make sure all is secure for his getaway whenever he could exit the compound.
Startled, Duffy discovered Moss had withdrawn his payment. Furiously he texted Moss again, “What do you think you are doing? I provided the product do you think you can get away with a double cross?”
Duffy waited for an answer that did not come. An hour later without a reply from Moss he signaled Dale of his success. Within a flash he found himself inside Dale Laboratory’s science fiction chamber. Instead of returning to his quarters as is the custom Dr. Stanfield intercepted him for yet another physical. It should have warned Duffy there is something beyond Moss to worry about.
Moss froze reading Duffy’s text. He turned to Evans showing him the message. “It seems we were correct. Duffy believes we have the product. That means Dale intercepted it and is onto him. I doubt we have to worry about Duffy and his threats. Dale will clean it up for us. The question becomes how do we obtain the object?”
Evans appeared less certain than his partner. “Duffy is resourceful and if he gets out you have a lot to worry about.”
Dale blinked, “You better follow through with the sanction to be sure.”
Devon filed into Professor Wilkins’ classroom behind the six other students quietly finding his seat. He just sat down as the class learned they were being dismissed early. Devon relaxed suspecting he could hide out in the lounge before the next class. The students all stood in a rush for the door when Devon heard a loud cough from the direction of the Professor’s desk. “Devon, may I have a word? I found your results quite illuminating.”
Frozen in place, Devon thought, ‘time to get bounced. Mom and Dad are going to freak.’ The girl persona he presented turned to face Wilkins exuding a fearful expression. Devon did not have long to wait as Wilkins pressed forward. “Young lady can you possibly explain the caliber of the work you turned in this morning? Your math performance of the recent school year indicates a clear lack of understanding. Please enlighten me how it is a young lady can flunk elementary ninth grade math. Then score one hundred percent on my multi year advance math quiz. Please I am more than curious.”
Devon cannot possibly answer this question. ‘What the,’ is all she can muster in her head. She has no idea, not a clue. There are times when answers appear from out of the blue. It happens on rare occasions when a confluence gathers forming a perfect storm. Devon stalled trying to create a fantastic lie, some compelling rational to explain the unfathomable. Without warning her science fiction bracelet manufactured brain kicked into action. The Girl she mimics has an IQ of 190 plus. Poor Devon is completely clueless about any of this. She only knows she is about to be thoroughly reamed out. Then the words flowed out of her mouth while she had no control over them. Fascinated Devon listened to herself. “Sir I am embarrassed to admit I suffered a full year of torment at the hands of bullies. If I passed a test or acted smarter than them I was beaten up. No one would believe me so I stopped complaining and acted stupid. It kept me alive sir, please believe me.”
Wilkins brows narrowed upon hearing Devon’s answer. He processed the story accepting it as his opinion of South Hills Schools made the claim easy to believe. “It is unfortunate to hear that Miss James but it does not surprise me. I look forward to having you in my class. There is nothing to fear in this school. Hurry onto your next class and I will see you tomorrow.”
Devon exited the room stunned by this event. The poor kid is in shock over the story he heard from his own mouth. The meeting with the professor ate up the free time he anticipated. His shock is still evident. He almost did not see Reagan who waited in the hall. She pointed to the hallway on the left. “Your History class is the first door on the right around the corner. Professor Jacobs is her name. Hurry now I will see you tomorrow.”
On that first day of summer school as Devon entered History Class Bob Collins set the failed bracelet on the table. He had worked on this all day beginning at six this morning. Bailey insisted and finally he had an answer one Bailey will not like. At ten thirty he buzzed his boss then rushed to the conference room. Evans and Bailey waited anxiously as Collins entered the room. “What did you find Collins; we have a busy day today.” Bailey’s gruff voice demanded as Collins pulled out a chair to sit.
The bracelet almost spun as he tossed it onto the table with a metallic clanking. The miniature row of crystals was faded presenting no color what so ever. The plain glass like chips appeared lifeless and dull. “It appears to be a result of a faulty cadmium battery.” Collins words hung like a dark cloud.
Two alpha males that sat across the table raised their brows in unison. They both regurgitated a single word they heard “Battery?”
Collins smiles seemingly surprised the brain trust were unaware a battery powers the bracelet. “Yes, battery,” he answered. “Everything needs a power source. It appears a faulty battery caused the filament connecting the crystals to burn out. Without a connection the DNA could not be injected into the wearer’s system. Without power to hold it the DNA dissipated. When the filament broke power was lost to the crystals. Hence the unit failed. If someone gets their hands on this they will be able to discover the process. I suggest you recycle it at once.”
Bailey turns the bracelet in his fingers flipping it back to Collins. He points to a unit in the corner. “Do it now while we watch. There is no point to delay. We will serve as witness you have disposed of it.”
Collins nodded inserting the bracelet into a crusher.
Marcus Bailey wasted no time as he vented. “You are telling me this scientific marvel depends on a freaking battery.” Bailey appeared near furious upon receiving this information.
Collins contained the urge to laugh as he forced out an answer. “Sir, the bracelet is a portable unit of course it needs a self contained power source. The process upon first use injects a portion of the carried DNA into the users system. It is the crystals that initiate change. That is why when removing the bracelet the tester changes back to their real self. The DNA is released in a similar process employed by those time capsule medications. Watch the crystals each one left to right fades in color intensity as the DNA portion it contains is dispensed. If someone were to repeatedly use the bracelet eventually the change becomes permanent. When you insert someone the system injects all four units at once. You have instant permanence and a useless bracelet. The design protects against having more than one replacement appearing for the same person.”
Evans presses Collins, “What you are saying is repeated testing weakens the dosage.”
Collins nods, “Yes a single test or two present no danger to the tester. He gets only enough DNA to create the illusion of the new persona. However, if all four crystals do not light up there is not enough DNA to create a permanent change. That is why we limit testing for each unit. At this time we only have one active unit. There is a girl lying in a coma at Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh. I take it I will be needed for an insertion soon?”
Bailey took a breath issuing a doubtful expression. “We are not sure about that, the customer is hesitant expressing doubts.”
Collins nodded, “I will be in my lab if you need me. There is a corporate meeting next month and they will have questions.”
When Collins exited closing the heavy oaken door behind him, Evans exhaled slowly. “No worries about the bracelet it is simply a dud. What about corporate? You have yet to advise them the process works. Isn’t it dangerous to keep them in the dark? We have had five insertions, all successful and you have not secured approval to advance the program. You have not informed corporate of the successful insertions.”
Bailey slams his fists against the table nearly exploding. “Evans your account in the islands presently holds twenty million dollars as does mine. Do you really think the government will be happy if they discover our enterprise? Of course, I have not told corporate.”
Evans blinks, “I hope you have a plan.”
Bailey laughs, “Our friend Collins just explained how with the bracelets we can avoid using the insertion process. That means there will be no record of our change. We have work to do my friend and only a mere month to complete it.”
Devon exited Professor Jacobs’ class followed by five other students to see Pat standing in the hall. Pat called to Devon. “They let you out early as well, how did it go?”
The new girl is caught again as he hoped to avoid Patty. The transformed boy had no delusions of changing back as he knew full well the female Devon must ride the bus home. The female Devon will have to reappear at school again tomorrow. Devon simply felt ultra strange enjoying the company of a pretty girl while wearing a skirt himself. Devon instantly liked Pat Clancy who gave every indication she liked Devon. ‘How can I have a friend like Trish when she thinks I am somebody else?’ The girl’s question, how did it go, hung in the air as Devon’s thoughts occupied his mind. The blank stare facing him appeared to be about to repeat that question. Devon suddenly answered, “It was ok. I think I will be able to deal with it. Hey,” changing the subject, “Don’t you think Reagan is cool?”
Pat grabbed Devon’s hand squeezing it, “Yeah let’s sit outside and wait for the bus. Call me Trish that is what friends call me.”
The two sat on the bench chatting while Devon’s eyes scanned the crowd of mulling students. He noticed there is no sign of his tormentor or the posse. ‘Do they even have summer school? It is not possible they passed.’ Devon is jarred back to the present by Pat.
“Looking for someone?” Trish asked breaking Devon’s reverie.
“I’m just wondering why I do not see anyone from school. I could not have been the only dummy who flunked.” Devon answered the girl.
Trish laughed poking Devon in a teasing fashion. “Reagan told me this school only takes a few students. But you knew that. Most of the kids were sent to Boston Harbor or Covington. I guess you were the only one taken from your school.” Trish grins adding, “This place only takes the best after all.”
Both girls laughed enjoying the idea they came out ahead. A green SUV pulled up to the curb with its horn blowing. “That’s my mom,” Trish blurts. “She said she was going to pick me up, come on.” She grabs Devon’s hand pulling her.
Devon’s feet suddenly are jerked onto the ground as she is literally pulled toward the SUV. Panic begins to set in as she notices a stream of students boarding the bus. Devon blurts, “My bus it getting ready to leave.”
Trish still holding Devon’s arm eggs her friend on. “Come on silly mom will drop you. We live in North Ridge it is a few miles beyond your school.”
Before Devon can respond Trish fires off. “Mom this is my friend Devon can you drop her off at South Hills Middle School? It is on the way.” Trish points to the now moving school bus. “I made her miss the bus.”
An attractive brunette sat behind the wheel turning to face her daughter. Devon noticed very pretty green eyes and a pleasant smile as the woman answered. “Devon is such a pretty name. Do you live near the school?”
Devon manages to weakly answer, “Not to far it is only several blocks.”
“Several blocks from the school you say, what street do you live on?” Mrs. Clancy asked the girl.
Devon freezes thinking, ‘I can’t go home like this.’ “Uh street, you don’t have to do that the school is close enough and it is on your way.”
Mrs. Clancy pulled from the curb and drove slowly away from the school. “It is not an imposition honey you already had a full day there is no need to walk from the school. What is your address?”
Devon suddenly relaxed glancing at her watch noting it is only twelve-fifteen. 'It is only ten miles we should be there by twelve-thirty or so. Mom does not get home until one and dad is at work until five.’ “68 Prospect Street,” he blurts.
Mrs. Clancy nods, “I know where that is. It is near where my husband works. That is why we moved to North Ridge. His job you know and in this economy you go where they send you. Devon, that’s a mile north of your school,” she finishes with a questioning tone.
Devon blinks, “Is it really a mile? I walk a mile to school everyday?”
Mrs. Clancy emits a giggle, “Girls.”
South Hills is not a tiny spot as such a name implies. It is an old mill town presently containing a population of seven-thousand. Back in the day when the factories were in full production the city housed more than twenty-thousand. As each mill shut down more and more businesses closed their doors, people fled to find work. What remains are minimum wage retail jobs and a lone super market, convenient stores, gas stations and a single medium size mall two miles north of the school. The lower numbered houses on Prospect Street are permanently stained from a coating of cement dust. Dust that wafted on a constant breeze rising from that old road fed by the mills. The same road where Devon stumbled upon that fateful bracelet. Thanks to a favorable trend in the air currents houses above number forty Prospect Street avoided cement dust fallout. That old road has regressed into a rutted single lane. It is mostly dirt as large chunks of pvc coated blacktop long since disappeared, having been reclaimed by nature. At the end of the abandoned road sits the concrete block building at the edge of a now dry canal. Very few are aware that block building houses Dale Electronics. It seems an odd place to open a facility.
“You forgot to give me your cell number Dev.” Trish’s voice broke the trance surrounding the new girl.
Devon had not taken the time to find her phone number. Time, when did the poor girl get a quiet minute to consider that? Removing the phone from her purse, Devon began to turn it on. ‘Purse, I had hardly noticed this fantasy generated a purse. I thought the damn thing was in my bookbag.’ While fiddling with the phone the bookbag rested at her feet. Trish turned toward her friend grabbing the phone. “We can butt the phones together and our numbers can port to each other’s phone.”
The boy watched amazed as Trish’s fingers jabbed at her phone. “It is done now we have each other’s number.”
“I did not know you could do that.” Devon exclaimed.
Trish giggled, “Silly and I thought you were the math wiz.” Devon blushed.
“Dev did you notice Mark Curtis on the lawn when we were waiting for mom?”
Devon shakes her head, “Who is Mark Curtis? I don’t know who he is.”
Trish stares at her friend with an incredulous gaze. “Dev be real he is in your history class. There are only five of you in there. How did you not notice him? Mark is beyond gorgeous.”
Mrs. Clancy nearly slams on the breaks when she hears her daughter’s comment. “Trish you are only fourteen. I do not want to hear anymore talk like that.
“Mom I am nearly fifteen, next week to be exact. Oh well, whatever.” Trish leans closer to Devon whispering. “The guy is awesome; he lives two doors from me. He goes to Bryant and is taking advanced classes. God, Dev he was staring at you the whole time. You did not see that I’m in love and sick puppy dog look on his face?”
Devon startled having no idea what Trish is talking about. He never experienced a guy looking at him like that. Devon shrugged signaling he did not notice while catching Mrs. Clancy’s expression in the rear view mirror. ‘Was she laughing, OMG she heard what Trish said!’ Embarrassed, Devon tried to sink lower in his seat. His ploy did not work as he could see Mrs. Clancy’s smirk in that mirror. “Trish,” he whispers, “I did not see that. Why, is it something I have to worry about?”
“Dev my dear, every girl I know would die to have Mark Curtis looking at her like that. I will give him your phone number if he asks, unless you tell me not to.” The conversation ended with the SUV pulling up in front of 68 Prospect Street.
Before Devon could forbid his friend passing out his number to a dreamy guy, one he failed to notice, Mrs. Clancy spoke. “It was nice meeting you Devon. I hope you can come around to the house sometime. I don’t mind dropping you off each day from school. If it is okay with your parents. I will get your number from Trish and give your mom a call, tonight maybe.”
Devon uttered a quiet thank you forgetting the question from Trish. She jumped out of the SUV focused on changing back before mom got home. Trish and her mother both said “Bye, see you tomorrow,” in unison as Devon waved a goodbye.
He raced to his room without looking to see if his mother had gotten home. She usually arrived between twelve-forty-five and one pm. According to Devon’s new watch, a very feminine gold watch it reported five minutes before one. Just as he removed the bracelet he heard the door close. Devon barely shifted back to his old fat self when he heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Dev honey are you home yet?”
“Yes mom I just got in.”
“I drove by the school,” his mother starts “But I did not see you. How did you get here so quickly? I just missed the bus.”
Devon took a quick breath and before he could catch himself he blurted out an answer. “Mrs. Clancy drove me home from school with her daughter Trish.”
Startled by her son’s answer Mrs. James sat. ‘Devon has never mentioned having any friends. Now a girl gives him a ride home. Perhaps, things are turning for the better.’ “Come on down Dev and tell me about your friend and school.”
“I need a shower first mom, be down in a bit.” ‘Now what do I do? I can’t tell mom they think I am a girl.’
Late on that fateful Monday evening, Colin Duffy stewed in his room. The lockdown had been lifted as the company completed its business for the day. He again reviewed his accounts noting payment had been withdrawn. No response had come from Moss regarding his text the previous day. Infuriated he considered what could have happened. ‘They received the product and decided to cheat me out of my payment. Is it possible someone intercepted it?’ He sat back trying to piece together events. ‘If Dale Electronics intercepted the bracelet they would have done something by now, unless they are unaware of who took it.’ He shrugged, ‘no Collins himself told me my substitute had failed because of a faulty battery and filament.' He is convinced my substitute was the original. 'It took me weeks to get my hands on one and there is little chance to get another. I cannot risk it because Moss very likely is the guilty party.’ Duffy continued to pace trying to factor a plan to seek revenge on those who cheated him. He lay back on his bunk feeling discomfort from that lump on his back. It was beneath his shoulder blade in a spot he cannot reach. ‘It seems to be getting bigger.’ Duffy rolled over falling into a fretful sleep.
At dinner Devon’s parents pressed him for information about his first day at school. He said little avoiding the events and his strange metamorphosis. Halfway through dinner his phone rang and father quickly interrupted. “Let it go to voice mail no phone during dinner.”
Devon blinked wondering who could have called. Before finishing dinner with Clay James’ irritation over phone calls producing a pall, the landline rang. Joyce passed a glance toward her son suggesting he not go to the phone. True to form father let it go to the answering machine as his gaze signaled that intent. From the kitchen table Devon could hear the message. It is a call for him. ‘Did Trish give my number to Mark Curtis? No the call is on the land line.’ The boy left his number requesting Devon call back.
Joyce smiled as she faced her son. “First day of school and it sounds like you have a friend. Tell me about the girl who gave you a ride home.”
“It is no big deal mom. The girl stopped me after school to ask a question about class. She made me miss the bus so her mother gave me a ride home. Excuse me I’m tired I need to take a shower and crash.”
Devon had barely reached the top step when he opened his cell phone. As he expected the call came from Trish. He started to return her call stopping himself. ‘I can’t call her without wearing the bracelet.’ Sweat started forming on his brow. ‘How am I going to do that with them downstairs?’ He discovered much to his relief Trish had sent a text message. Trish swore she did not give Dev’s number to Mark. There is only one number in Devon’s contact list. Even with that it took him a half hour to figure out how to send a text. Devon told Trish, Mark had called his land line leaving a message but she did not call him back.
Almost at once Trish replied, “Told u he is ga ga.”
Devon’s panic rose. “I will check him out at school.” ‘Why in the hell did I send that message?’ Devon showered then went to bed worried about tomorrow.
It was nine pm of the longest Monday Devon ever experienced when the phone rang. Joyce James answered not recognizing the number displayed on her caller id. The female voice she heard began in warm tones. “Mrs. James, this is Margaret Clancy, Patricia Clancy’s mother. I am calling to let you know I gave Devon a ride home from school this afternoon. My daughter has taken a liking to Devon they appear to get along quite well. I am wondering if you mind if Devon rides back and forth with Patricia and I? It is far better than that bus.”
Mrs. James was quite surprised by this as her poor son has so few friends. Come to think of it she could not recall any friends since elementary school. “Devon told me about the ride this afternoon. That was very nice of you and kind to offer. If it is alright with Devon it will be fine with me. Devon has already gone to bed so I will leave a note giving my permission.” Joyce sat back as Mrs. Clancy chatted for a moment. The two women agreed to greet each other by first name and when one suggested they get together sometime it sounded like a grand idea. Mrs. James checked on Devon who was sleeping peacefully. She left a note on his night stand informing him Mrs. Clancy will pick him up at the house about eight-twenty.
Sometimes fate takes a hand but often that hand only delays the crisis. During their phone conversation neither Mrs. James nor Mrs. Clancy used pronouns when referring to Devon. It was simply the nature of their conversation certainly at some point a pronoun will be interjected. Him, her, your daughter, she and etc is more commonly used in conversation than proper names. At some point this has to happen. For now Devon dodged a bullet. Had he known about this, panic is sure to have applied its grip. Panic will wait for morning.
Devon had a restless sleep through the night tossing and turning half waking several times. He awoke with his alarm sounding at six-thirty to feel his saturated sheets. He could hear his mother calling from downstairs. “Dev I left you note on your night stand. Mrs. Clancy called, she sounds like a nice lady. I am sorry I won’t be here when she comes. As you know I have to be at work by eight.”
‘Oh shit what is that about?’ He jumped out of bed being shaken by his mother’s words. He called downstairs, “Ok mom, be down after I shower.”
In the shower he noticed an oddity. He could almost see his private area. He knew he is small down there but due to his rotund shape he cannot see over his belly. He could view himself there by sitting in front of a mirror but he never had any desire to so. ‘Am I losing weight?’ His stomach mound appears a bit smaller. ‘Naw it is my imagination I still can’t see my thing. My chest appears a little puffy I never noticed that before. Perhaps if I had a waist I might have.’ He shrugged stepping out of the shower to read the note. ‘They are coming here!’
At the breakfast table conversation is light with his parents still raising questions about the first day of school. Devon tried to be as vague as possible saying little. Father was the first to leave as his job started before mother’s. Mom worked from eight to half past noon to allow full timers their half hour lunch at noon. Once the desk staff returned at twelve-thirty she clocked out. After dad closed the door Devon asked his mother. “Why was dad giving me those strange looks?”
Joyce blinked not surprised by his question. She too noticed something odd about Devon. Mrs. James smiled thinking, ‘Clay picked up on that too, I’m surprised.' "I noticed your voice sounds a bit different. Your father must have picked up on that as well. Are you feeling ill, have you noticed it?” Mrs. James measured her son expecting some kind of reaction.
Devon widened his eyes having no idea what she talking about. “I’m fine mom, what’s wrong with my voice?”
Joyce appeared pensive as if searching for an answer. “Perhaps your voice is finally breaking and will become deeper. That happens for boys around your age.” She did not add a thought that troubles her, ‘though his voice appears higher not deeper.’
Devon did not want to wear a skirt to school today. He noticed appreciative glances from boys yesterday. To say they were unwelcome by the faux girl is rather obvious. Devon has no interest in attracting boys. Though on one level he warmed to them feeling those glances were far better than years of torment he experienced. ‘The bracelet dictates what I wear,’ he considered. ‘Yesterday I wore shorts that were turned into a skirt. My pajamas were turned into a girl’s night shirt. What if I put on jeans?’ He dressed in jeans and a tee though he feared the day’s heat may be too much for jeans. He had to find out.
He waited until he heard mom drive away before putting on the bracelet. Sure enough, his jeans morphed into a pair of girl’s tight skinny jeans. His tee became a silk cami betraying his bare arms while enhancing the outline of his A cups. ‘Wow!" he exclaimed seeing his reflection in the mirror. ‘I’m actually not half bad. Not as pretty as Trish but not bad. What do I have to do to get a pair of girl’s shorts?’ Devon glanced down at his wrist to see the gold watch reappear and noticed the furthest crystal is much more faint than it appeared day before. He did not have time to dwell on that as a horn is blowing in front of the house.
The laser robots patrolled access halls to the design labs. There are two labs side by side in the central area of the concrete building. They are protected by a moat so to speak. The moat is nothing more than a series of hallways surrounding the labs. To enter either lab one must negotiate a maze like series of hallways patrolled endlessly by these deadly robots. The robots appear rather innocuous resembling common shop vacs. The difference being they do not clean carpets they neutralize intruders. Their setting capability provides a range of fire power allowing for everything from a simple stun to full termination of the intruder.
Bob Collins swiped his key card followed by his typing a command to shut down the robots. With considerable speed he entered his lab. He did not notice Duffy piggybacking behind him. Duffy waited until Collins turned the first corner before squeezing through the slow sliding door. The metallic locking sounds startled him, but only momentarily. Duffy knew he had mere seconds to push aside a ceiling tile and lunge upward before Collins reactivated the robots. He crawled carefully along widely spaced support beams. Every several feet a clear tile allowed viewing down to the hallway below.
Duffy peered into the north lab finding it empty. He used his remote pointing it toward a control panel to shut off the video cameras. Silently he dropped into the lab. Colin Duffy made a quick sweep to discover there were no bracelets in production in this lab. He quickly ascended into the ceiling reactivating the cameras. Crawling carefully he rapidly positioned himself above the South lab to watch Collins at work.
The technician worked adjusting a bracelet with miniature tools. Duffy, even with his high powered glasses could not determine what those adjustments were. He mused, ‘is he applying the woman’s DNA that I secured? What difference does it make whose DNA is involved? Collins is modifying the unit. What is he doing?’
Perplexed, Duffy remained motionless for nearly an hour watching Collins. He had no idea how long he will be trapped in these cramped quarters. Duffy could feel the tension as his knees and legs began to scream due to his positioning. The question remains how much longer will Collins take. Duffy will have to act quickly once the designer places the bracelet into the cabinet. There is not a lot of time to shut down the cameras then drop into the lab to secure the product. Duffy is aware he will have little time to extract himself avoiding the robots. Finally Collins completes his work but takes the bracelet with him as he leaves. ‘Shit I did not count on that, now what?’ Duffy scurries back over his route along the beams in time to see Collins open the exit doorway. Colin Duffy as he feared had no way out and resigned himself to await Collins’ return.
Collins, Bailey, Evans and Dr. Stanfield sit at the conference table for yet another meeting called by Marcus Bailey. There are several issues concerning the head of this division of Dale Laboratories. Bailey leads by addressing Bob Collins, “Bob did you make the adjustments that I requested?” Bailey is referring to the Bracelet holding the DNA of the comatose woman. Collins passes the bracelet across the table toward Bailey who fingers it gingerly.
The answer from Collins comes with a questioning tone as if he is curious why Bailey wanted this change. “Marcus, I did as you asked but failed to see the need for the adjustment.” Collins leans back taking Bailey’s measure waiting a response.
Bailey for his part did not wish to discuss his reasons. Collins certainly did not need to know. Bailey knew full well this change prevented any ability to test the unit. ‘Then again we know this unit works and no further testing is required,’ Bailey thought. As with any top secret project controlling information is required. People only need to know their part, not the big picture. The problem for Bailey is Dr. Stanfield reveals too much for the head’s comfort.
Murray Stanfield clears his throat as he signals his intent to interject his opinion. Bailey turns quickly to face him, “You have something to say, Murray?”
Stanfield is an imposing figure standing over six-feet tall packing two-hundred-twenty pounds of pure muscle. His blond crew cut highlighted by deep steel blue eyes enhances an already imposing figure. The doctor leans forward speaking with a stern measured tone. “I sense you have problems,” he begins. “Collins conferred with me as he has concerns about the physical effect your change will have on the user.” He looks at the bracelet while pausing, “Collins did not listen and followed orders. You are aware when your victim uses the object he or she is trapped. You removed the failsafe whereby your customer can no longer view his new persona before committing to a new identity. That suggest to me you are attempting to shaft somebody. Headquarters will be more than curious to discover what you are trying to achieve.” Stanfield’s gaze bore into Bailey as the doctor clearly projected his anger.
The last thing Bailey wanted is the staff learning about this change. Bailey glared toward Stanfield thinking better of challenging him in this meeting. To do so would further inflame the good doctor. Bailey tried to minimize the damage by claiming, “We are merely attempting to see what is possible. There is no intent to use this particular model.” Bailey scanned the room trying to measure if his staff accepted his excuse.
Collins and Evans remained quiet though their glances issued a warning. Dr. Stanfield for his part is not ready to let Bailey off the hook easily. He has grave doubts about Bailey and Evans suspecting something sinister. “Well then Mr. Bailey,” Stanfield carefully selected his words, “You may not be aware there are problems with this particular sample.” Stanfield sat back allowing his words to hang in the air.
Bailey, Evans and Collins leaned forward in unison. Bailey appeared especially concerned blurting, “What do you mean problems?”
Stanfield smiled, “You have not seen the news? The young lady is comatose because of a drug overdose she received by persons unknown. The police suspect a self administered dose. She is pregnant but very much alive. I have friends on the hospital staff. They have confirmed she is breathing only because of life support. The staff concurs they should pull the plug. The parents refuse wishing to keep her alive protecting the unborn child. As you should be aware if news gets out it will cause a ruckus. Both sides of the abortion radicals will be mounting protest. You cannot purpose to insert someone into that situation. You cannot do that because the woman has not been declared deceased. What do you propose to do kill her?”
Bailey and Evans exclaimed they did not know this and of course they would never. Stanfield went on with his condemning the company’s actions. “There are more problems of which you may not be aware.” This statement brought about another round of blinking, coughing and surprise. “Shall I explain?” Stanfield’s question is directed at Bailey who nodded.
“It is like this, what you do not know is truly amazing. The DNA will create a replica of the body from which it had been extracted. This process allows our product to select the stage of life you require. In other words you can create a replica at any point from infancy to old age. When you create a duplicate of the woman presently in a coma that is what you get. Your duplicate will not be pregnant. DNA does not contain that information. What is your plan? Do you think you can convince the doctors your customer suddenly recovers from a coma and the fetus disappeared? Can you answer that question?”
Stunned, Bailey and Evans fished for a comment while Collins stifled a laugh. Collins had become suspicious of his two superiors not accepting the insertion process was simply a matter of testing. He knew one had to conduct test to determine the process worked. Collins also knew none of these customers ever returned. He is certain Bailey and Evans are running a business of their own on the side. Exactly what he does not know but he certainly has no intention of being thrown under the bus. All these thoughts ran through Collins’ mind while Bailey spit out his denial.
“We have no intention of acting as you suggest, Dr. Stanfield. I clearly stated my instructions to Collins are intended to explore what is possible.”
Stanfield smiled not believing a word of it while nodded signaling he swallowed the excuse. “In that case I strongly suggest you recycle the unit here and now. I would hate to think someone would inadvertently apply its use. Yes, there are other concerns you need to hear. I will address this after you tend to the product.” Stanfield points to the recycle unit.
Trapped in his lies, Bailey walks to the recycler flipping the bracelet in his hand. “Quite correct doctor, I will attend to it now.”
As Bailey palmed the bracelet he substituted another failed unit while slipping the working unit under his sleeve. Dr. Stanfield watched Bailey crush the bracelet not indicating if he had noticed Bailey’s slight of hand. Once Marcus Bailey returned to the table he questioned Stanfield. “What other problems have you to report?”
Stanfield’s news is an unwelcome surprise to Bailey “The young woman in question has been secreted to remote facility in Georgia or South Carolina. My sources could only pinpoint the location to somewhere in the southeast. She is no longer in Pittsburgh. I do not wish to rain on your parade but there is also a serious issue with Duffy. Aren’t you glad you disposed of your prototype?”
Bailey suddenly had the sickening feeling all is falling apart. The green tint suddenly appearing on Evan’s expression helped to convince Bailey they are in trouble. Marcus tried to side step the issue with yet another comment. “Yes without the bracelet the woman’s situation is not of our concern.” Bailey pressed Stanfield. “What about Duffy?”
Murray Stanfield replied, “I’m satisfied you are accepting the facts as they present themselves. As you know corporate has threatened to pull the plug with the death of agent Murphy. Did you tell them of the other two deaths? Never mind, I don’t want to know. He is the third one to die you know. We do not understand the catalysts causing the tumors nor do we have a grasp of the toxin. My last physical yesterday of Duffy indicates his tumor is growing. We cannot remove it without extreme risk, if he were to suddenly expire corporate will pull the plug. In other words whatever game you are playing is finished.”
“I assure you we are not doing anything immoral or illegal.” The blood vessels in Bailey’s face reveal his furor.
Stanfield stands, “That is your business not mine. I am simply informing you of the facts and that I will not allow Mr. Duffy to be inserted another time. Is that clear?” Without waiting for an answer Dr. Stanfield exits the room.
Devon arrived for his second day at class sitting in the back seat of the SUV. Trish spoke non stop as she teased Devon about Mark Curtis. “You absolutely have to bag him. He is a dreamboat.” Her comment is whispered as Trish is giddy.
The response from Devon’s is not unexpected. “Stop it, I don’t even know what he looks like.”
Trish simply giggled returning a simple, “You will.”
Mrs. Clancy turned her head upon stopping, “Girls time for school we have arrived. You will have to continue your scheming later. Yes I heard you.”
Both Devon and Trish exited watching the SUV pull away. “Dev isn’t this better than that crummy bus?” Trish asked.
The girls were met by Reagan on the lawn. “Girls, you did so well yesterday that I know I do not have to worry about you. Dev, the math you turned in was amazing. Trish, Dr. Caldwell loved your writing. We are all impressed.” Before the girls could do more than blush, Reagan told them she will be spending time with two of her kids who need individual help. “You have my number girls if you need anything. We will meet Monday to review your weekly report.” With that the proctor bounded toward a boy and girl sitting on a bench near the entrance.
Devon noticed Trish is dressed much like her. Both wore skinny jeans and a camisole blouse. Trish notice Devon’s measuring her like she was sizing her up, “I know it’s too warm for jeans. What if we agree to wear shorts tomorrow?”
Blinking, not knowing what to say, Devon thought there can be only answer. ‘This is something I must agree even if I am not sure I can,’ Devon considered. Devon has no understanding how to secure a pair of girl’s shorts. The stupid bracelet is in charge of the girl’s wardrobe. Devon answered as if on auto pilot, “Sure what color?”
Trish giggled, “We are not twins. Wear whatever color you like. I’m going to wear my powder green running shorts with a mint colored top. Just so you know.” With that they separated into their different classes.
Math class presented a slight change the chairs were arranged in a semi circle with the opened end facing Professor Wilkins. The desk fronted the chairs offering a low profile. The presentation appeared to be in the form of graduate school colloquiums. Devon realized on the first day there would be no place to hide. The arrangement he faces now confirms that point. Near panic sets in as Devon thinks, ‘what do I do now? I faked it yesterday having no idea how. I am more clueless today than before.’
Devon had little to worry about in regard to the course material as the presented girl contributed to the class interaction. He sat truly amazed as words with little meaning escaped the feminine mouth. His auto comments usually were followed by Professor Wilkins saying, “Exactly Devon.” Sometimes Wilkins only nodded and smiled.
The boy’s thoughts kept coming back to, ‘it must be the bracelet.’ The other issue Devon dreaded is Mark Curtis who sat directly opposite him in History class. Mark’s eyes never lessened their gaze causing Devon to become unsettled. ‘Those eyes are dreamy and he is hot. What are you thinking?’ Devon’s inner response shocked the new girl. The class dragged on as the poor fat boy’s focus considered escape. Finally it ended, the class, not the angst.
A swift step toward the door is interrupted by a voice. “Wait up Devon.” It was Mark’s voice, loud and close she could not ignore it.
Devon turned to face a boy who must be nearly six feet wearing a yellow oxford neatly tucked into a pair of blue Dockers. His shoes must have been what Devon’s father meant when he said spit shined. “Yes,” the girl answers sheepishly.
The dreamy, hot, totally awesome Mark according to Devon’s eyes spoke in a deep voice. “Did you get my phone message last night?” Mark asked through his blush.
Devon leaned back feeling flush and very uncertain. “I had already gone to bed when you called. I found it this morning. I thought it was too early to call you.” ‘How is that for quick thinking?’ Devon considered in his quaking fear.
“Can you give me your cell phone number? I asked Pat Clancy for it but she said I had to get from you.” Mark’s eyes held their measure of the girl as he spoke softly.
Devon took a deep breath considering how to avoid this. Once again his mouth got him in trouble. “Sure give me your phone.”
With a broad smile Mark hands over the phone. He watched Devon butt them together. Doing it exactly as Trish had done with their phones yesterday Devon created the contacts on each phone. “I have to warn you Mark I rarely talk on the phone it is mostly used to text.”
Mark answered, “me too,” then walked down the hall as if he were on a cloud. He called, “c-ya later Dev.”
At that moment Trish grabbed hold of Devon’s wrist. “Told ya, he is hot and better yet hot for you.”
Devon blushed happy to have come up with the texting ploy. It has yet to dawn upon Devon when his girl persona shifts into his real self there is no change in his voice. His mother commented on that last night. It seems he did not notice or he simply chose to ignore his mother. Devon certainly never considered their conversation had focused entirely upon the departed Mark. The boy’s attention certainly did not lend itself to his next class.
History class was a replica of math. Plush seats aligned as a semi circle to allow informal discussion as if these high schools kids were graduate students. As in math class Devon interacted expertly in American History. ‘This is getting too weird. What the hell is going on with me?’ Mark walked with Devon all the way to Trish’s car ignoring his mother waiting three spots over. Devon felt flushed each time Mark accidentally touched his arm. Mark’s smile excited her, ‘his eyes are dreamy just like Trish said. What am I thinking? Get a hold of yourself Mark is a boy.’ Shaken by these thoughts, Devon literally dove into Mrs. Clancy’s car trying to hide his blush.
During the ride home Devon added little to the conversation with Trish. The poor boy is preoccupied on how he is going to ditch this bracelet. Devon is well aware he is trapped. There is no possible way he can complete these courses as the butterball. He has to keep using the bracelet. Otherwise he must try to explain the unexplainable. His parents will go nuts and he will flunk out. But how is he going to survive the next eight and a half weeks? Then there is Trish. He has only known her for two days and she already his best friend. ‘I can’t lose Trish. What about Mark? I could feel my knees knocking when we were talking. That scares me because even I know what that means.’
Devon’s trance is broken by a poke followed with a whisper. “Dev, Earth to Dev are you there? I get it, it’s Mark you are smitten.” Trish follows her whisper with a giggle.
From the back seat Margaret Clancy’s brows can be seen noticeably raising in the rearview mirror. That happened when she heard Devon and Trish whispering.
“Huh,” responds Devon, “Did you say something?”
Another giggle escapes Trish’s lips. “You gave Mark your cell number didn’t you? He told me he called your land line last night. Fess up your smitten.”
Mrs. Clancy pulls up to the curb in front Devon’s house. She turns with a smile, “Devon honey you are home. I am happy to say just in time to avoid Pat’s inquisition.”
Devon blushed glancing toward Trish noticing her embarrassed stare at Mrs. Clancy. Devon hugged Trish whispering, “Tell you later,” adding, “Thanks for the ride Mrs. Clancy.”
As Devon stepped out of the car, Trish and her mother both said, “See you tomorrow.”
It seemed to be hours that Duffy laid prostrate in the cramped passageway waiting for Collins’ return. When the man finally appeared at the door Duffy thought through the moves he must take. The hallway is about one-hundred feet in length with one patrol robot. He timed the robot’s movements over a hundred trips back and forth as it patrolled the hall. In each trip it took the unit one minute to reach the other end. Its movement required a square turn to face back up the hall. Duffy has no idea of the laser’s range. Prudence demands he assume one hundred feet is no challenge for the robot. Duffy accepts he has forty-five seconds to drop into the hall while replacing the tile before hitting the floor then exiting. He anticipated that action will take twenty seconds. He also is aware the door cycle takes forty seconds to close. Not giving him much time to escape. He will have twenty seconds from when his feet hit the floor to get out. He also is aware Collins will not activate the robots until he is safely inside his lab. That adds an unknown to his calculations.
The lag time between Collins’ lab entry and his turning the robot on is an unknown. It is also possible the robot when shut down could be facing his direction as it may be on its way up the hall when Collins hits the button. It is a crap shoot he could land next to the robot. At least he is positioned to see Collins enter his lab. When that happens he will drop and run while praying.
Collins’ expression was one borne of frustration as he entered the hall. That affect did not escape Duffy who had no time to consider it at the moment. Collins barely turned the corner as Duffy dropped to the floor. He almost landed on the damn robot. The lifeless beady eyes faced him ready to fire within seconds. Off balance Duffy rolled quickly diving at the closing door with little time to react. He rolled almost a foot into the outer chamber barely missing the steel grip of the door’s closing pincers. He righted himself facing the doors.
Behind Duffy stood Stanfield, from the doctor’s vantage point it appeared Colin was about to enter the lab area. Murray Stanfield Called to the man facing the door. “Duffy, it’s Dr. Stanfield. I would not go in there if I were you.”
Duffy turned with a quizzical stare quickly understanding Stanfield mistook his intent thinking he was going to the lab. “Why not?” Duffy replied to the Doctor.
Stanfield broadly smiles, “Collins is the only one in there. The other tech has the day off and Collins is in a bad mood. We just had a brutal meeting with the brass. It did not go well,” he concludes.
‘So that is where Collins went and where he left bracelet.’ Duffy considers as he nods. “It is nothing Earth shattering I will bother Collins later. Thanks for warning me Doc.”
“Oh Duffy stop in my office in the morning I want to check that lump again.” The doctor request then finishes. “I ordered Bailey that you are not to be inserted again until I can figure out what is going on with that growth of yours.”
Once again Devon barely made it into his room before mother arrived home. “Devon, how did your day go?” Mother’s voice echoed up the stairway as she closed the front door.
“Fine mom I am going to shower, be down in a bit.” Devon sat on the edge of his bed with greater concerns than showering. ‘I need to figure out how to get a pair of shorts and how this stupid bracelet manufactures clothes.’ He stared at the jewel on his wrist removing the watch first then taking off his jeans, blouse, bra and panties. Startled by his reflection in the mirror, he admired the girl he projected. Flat tummy, waif like waist and perky smallish well formed breasts. Devon entered the shower leaving the pile of clothes on his floor.
As the water cascaded over him he noticed two events. First warm water is far more stimulating on this body than the one he was born with. The second event is far more startling. He noticed beads of water in fine mists striking the bracelet he had forgotten to remove. He quickly shielded his arm from the flow jumping out of the shower. Once standing in the bathroom he notice the fourth crystal did not reflect any light as it turned clear. Devon quickly toweled himself off while removing the bracelet.
Beads of perspiration formed on his brow as he sat on his bed. It was then he noticed his female clothing remained in a pile on his floor. ‘I am still naked and “her” clothes are still here.’ He giggled at that thought and shook when he heard his giggle sounded the same as “hers.”
Devon took advantage of mother’s rule. Mom will do Devon’s laundry only if he puts the dirty clothes in the hamper. Part two is Devon has to put his own clothes away. Mother will leave them at the foot of the stairs to be brought up to his room. ‘Mom does not go in my drawers.’ He smiled at that thought while folding the jeans, blouse and under ware. ‘Well I learned a few things including my sizes. The tags are still on the inside band of her clothes.’
Devon quickly took advantage of Sears' online policy. That is order and pay for items on their site and pick them up in the store. ‘No way am I going to explore the girls department. Besides my female self will never get out of the house without being seen.’ He quickly placed his order, waited for confirmation then printed his pickup receipt grateful Sears accepts Pay Pal. He then bounded down the stairs. At two pm Devon sat at the kitchen table facing mom. “Mom I am going to ride my bike down to Sears I bought a new video game and it is ready for pickup.”
When Devon arrived home he ran straight to his room putting away his new clothes. He barely had time to give them an appreciative glance before mom called him downstairs. Sheepishly he walked into the living room under the watchful gaze of his mother. She wanted to talk. He twisted in place on the sofa dreading what she might say. Mother never begins with we need to talk unless there is a problem. Problems are always his fault.
“Dev honey I know this is not your fault,” She began. He visibly relaxed but held his guard as she spoke. “It has been a long time since you have been to the doctor. That is a good thing because we have been without insurance for a long time. Now that your father is back to work we do not have to rely on those impersonal clinics.”
Devon sighed, “Yes mom I know but I’m not sick.”
Mrs. James brushed her son’s brow, “Perhaps not but I have concerns.”
Devon groaned starting to protest but mother cut him off. “I’ve noticed a few things that may or may not be a problem. You have lost a lot of weight, your voice is changing and your skin is different.”
The boy blinked, “Skin different? What are you talking about?”
Mrs. James selected her words carefully not to alarm the boy. “It is softer and more, I don’t know more silkier looking. You have no hair on your arms or legs. Are you getting taller?”
Devon thought about the lines he drew on his door frame and how his girl self is two inches taller than his real self. ‘My real self, she is five-feet-seven and the pudgy me is five-feet five.’ “I don’t think so mom.” He finally answered.
Mrs. James patted her son on his knee. “Go play your video game. I made an appointment with a new doctor. It is on August 9th right after school at one-fifteen. It is on a Friday. Can you ask Mrs. Clancy to drop you there instead of home? Or do you want me to call her? I will pick you up after the appointment.”
The last thing Devon wants is for these two women to talk to each other. “I will ask mom.”
A tall assured man with salt and pepper short cropped hair wearing a double breasted linen suit entered into the anteroom of a stately white colonial home. He approached the front desk of The Pines, as it is known locally. Haslin is a quiet old world community near the Georgia coast. It is just the type place where the affluent find sanctuary for family members to rest. Erin Hopkins is such a person, a twenty-two year old college student who came from old plantation money. When the doctors reported to her parents the month long drug induced coma is likely irreversible they refused to pull the plug. It is true their daughter bore the shame of a bastard child. Both Martha and Steven Hopkins would shoulder their daughter’s shame because neither parent could allow the unborn to perish. With their unabating faith they were determined to keep Erin on life support long enough for the child to survive while prying for a miracle. As to the rogue who committed this crime his death will be sweet. Steven already paid the sum to ensure that result.
The man gazed upon Erin with a pitiful countenance. He knew the doctors were correct but Jarod Isley had a job to do. When Colin Duffy collected Erin’s DNA he planted a tracking chip below the skin at the base of her neck. It was only a matter of time before she would be found. Isley made note of each monitor connection and feeding tube attached to Erin’s body. The information is important when extraction is ordered. That is if it is ordered. Isley did not know and did not care. He is paid to do his job. The tall imposing man faded away as quietly as he entered.
Isley reported to Marcus Bailey in the conference room of Dale Electronics. Bailey smiled when he learned the extraction process is ready to implement. He is still uncertain if he will need to commit this radical act but Duffy is certainly his mole. That decision will be made as soon as he has proof which surely is forthcoming. He dismissed Isley then phoned his chief of security. “Eric, you said you had news for me? I will meet you in my office in ten minutes.”
Eric Bolton arrived as ordered carrying a video disk. “I have something that may interest you. As you are aware only certain individuals are authorized to enter secure areas. I suspect we have an intruder but due to poor placement of cameras I cannot be certain. You know I argued this point many times.”
Bailey blinked, “yes, yes you have. Show me what is on the disk.”
Bolton began walking Bailey through the video. “There sir you see Duffy approach the Lab area directly behind Mr. Collins.” He paused the video speaking in a stressed voice, do you see why I have been I have been complaining about camera placement?
Bailey nods, “yes I can see that.”
Bolton continued, “Collins entered the Lab hallway at one pm and Duffy did not reappear until two hours later.” We have no idea where Duffy went.”
Bailey’s curiosity, now heightened shouted, “Continue.”
Bolton described how records show the times Collins entered and left the lab area. “Now then while Collins is absent the security camera failed in the south lab for two minutes then reactivated. Then as if there is an intruder the camera failed for two minutes in the north lab. An hour later Collins returned and within minutes Duffy reappears at the approach to the lab area. It is not conclusive but it appears we had an incident and Duffy is your intruder. Now can I have those damn cameras?”
Bailey nodded his assent dismissing Bolton with a simple, “good work.” Clearly, this is upsetting to the boss; Bailey momentarily paused before calling Evans. “I think it is time to deal with Duffy. What? Yes our agent located Miss Hopkins all is set on that end. Assuming Collin’s adjustments work. Do not be concerned about the good doctor. He does not need to know. I suggest no later than Friday and this problem will be solved.” He hung up the phone and stood by his window.
Devon waited until he heard his mother close the door as she left for work before getting ready for school. He had about twenty minutes until Mrs. Clancy and Trish arrives, ‘not much time he thought.’ Dressed in jeans and a tee shirt he placed the bracelet on his wrist noticing with concern the last crystal is clear. He instantly changed into her again wearing a different skirt and blouse. This is part of his plan to test the strange clothing appearances. ‘Wow a different skirt. This one is a nice black wool pleated one and not too short. New sneakers too, you can’t have enough sneakers.’ Devon quickly stripped placing the new clothes into his drawer. He then dressed in a pair of khaki nylon running shorts and a pastel pink top. Devon smiled admiring his trim almost sexy look in the mirror. ‘This bracelet produces either jeans or skirts. It refuses to give me shorts. If I am naked it gives me nothing. Oh well free jeans and skirts are nothing to complain about.’
Devon tried to keep a low profile at school hanging out with Trish while avoiding others. It seemed at every turn Mark is there. Not that there are many turns when you have only two classes. He was in the student lounge speaking with Reagan and Trish between classes. Mark appeared again waiting outside Devon’s last class. He had rushed out the door ahead of him leading the boy to think Mark had somewhere to go. Devon’s surprised expression is interrupted as Mark spoke. “I did not want to miss you. So I rushed out hoping to catch you. Can we walk outside together? I know you ride with Trish.”
Devon agreed blushing when upon taking their first step Mark took his hand. The new girl wanted to pull her hand away but she did not. Mark’s hand felt warm and secure. She liked how it felt.
Once outside, Mark walked her to a black BMW. “Mom,” he began with an uncommon shy voice. “This is my friend Devon we have a class together.”
Mrs. Curtis presented that I know look to her son as she answered. “It is nice to meet you Devon. I like knowing Mark’s friends.”
Mark quickly burst forth with, “We have History together and Devon is a wiz.”
Just then Trish came bounding over giggling. “Mom’s here Dev are you ready? Oh, high Mrs. Curtis, Mom said to say hello.”
Nancy Curtis glanced at Devon and then Trish. “Patty are you friends with Devon?”
Trish nearly bursting nods excitedly. “Dev is my very best friend.”
As the girls turned to walk to Trish’s car Mrs. Curtis said. “Patty tell your mother I will call her tonight. It would make sense if we took turns driving you kids to school.”
On the way home Trish kept whispering to Devon. “Cool you get to sit in the back seat with Mark.”
At home Devon noticed the second light displayed a less brilliant reflection than the two on right and the fourth furthest left crystal remained clear lacking any reflection. He became concerned wanting to remove the bracelet. He knew to keep the clothes he must undress first. ‘I may as well take a shower since I’m naked. What is this deal with showering almost twice a day? Normally I do that three times a week.’ After storing his clothes he stepped into the shower.
As the water cascaded over him, the boy noticed his stomach appeared smaller than it was earlier. ‘I must have lost more weight,’ he thought. He still could not see his thing as he calls it. His rotund mound blocks viewing anything below it. ‘What do I expect it barely reaches through the fly of my pants when I go.’ More troubling to him is the sudden sensation when the spray strikes his puffy breasts. ‘It feels strangely exciting but what is it with the itching? I did not have that before.’ If Devon saw still another change it did not register or it might be he willfully ignored his most recent adjustment. For anyone who could see, his areolas are suddenly larger and deeper in color. It must be denial because even a blind person could see them.
Devon in fact did lose more weight. He is down to one-hundred-forty-five pounds. That is nearly twenty pounds in a week. He stepped off the scales thinking, ‘no wonder mom wants me to see a doctor.’ The boy had saved those papers from the first day at math class. He remembered he could not make head or tails from the strange symbols and formulas. Devon could not believe he wrote them himself. But he did watch his very fingers guide the pen over the page. Now sitting at his desk he stares maintaining a shocked expression. ‘This stuff is easy. I don’t know why I was confused. It makes perfect sense.’
His focus on those math formulas is interrupted by the phone. Without thinking he answered not putting on his bracelet. “Hello. Oh Trish you made it home safe I was worried and am relieved you called.” Devon paused, ‘where the hell did that come from?’
Trish answered, “Silly why would you worry? Never mind, I called to ask if you wanted to come over to my house for a sleepover Friday night.”
Devon exhaled slowly, excited at the prospect, “I’ll ask mom she should be home in a minute. Can I call you back?”
The reply came quickly, “Of course silly. Oh Paula and Kim are coming. They are two friends from school. They want to meet you.”
Ending the conversation, he hung up excited. Devon paced back and forth waiting for his mother to get home from work. ‘Mom is never going to go for a sleepover with three girls. How in heck do I explain this?’ Then it hit him, ‘brother, Trish has a brother named Kevin. I can say Kevin invited me. Does this have a chance of working?’
Devon stared at the math papers not really seeing them. All focus is drawn to his current problem. ‘It has a chance as long as these two women don’t talk to each other.’ If the boy noticed his voice without the bracelet is now a perfect match to the tenor (she) presents, he did not acknowledge it out loud. It appears his failure to grasp this change is yet more denial.
At two pm Colin Duffy walked into Dr. Murray Stanfield’s office, “You wanted to see me?”
Stanfield turned from the window with a concerned gaze. “Yes, I need to examine your cyst. There are things I am concerned about. I don’t want to alarm you because it may be nothing. You are aware you are not to go on any assignments requiring Bailey’s insertion process?”
Duffy sat down demonstrating a worried countenance. “Are you saying the two are related?”
The doctor speaks in measured tones. “The relationship is the only thing I am certain about. I have no proof but I assure you the cyst is caused by the insertion.”
Duffy exhales, “What’s the big deal? There is no discomfort and I hardly notice the thing is there.”
Stanfield shakes his head, “The big deal is Wilson. You do remember Ted Wilson don’t you?”
Duffy nods, “Yeah he did the same job as me and three others. One day he got pissed off and quit.”
Stanfield frowns, “That’s what they told you huh?”
The conversation is turning toward a direction that is unsettling to Duffy. He suddenly is beginning to feel very uncomfortable. “Bailey and Evans told me. They had a mission for him and he wanted more money. They refused any bonus so he quit.”
Stanfield lights his pipe and Duffy quickly blurts, “This is a no smoking facility.”
Startled, the doctor laughs. “Do you think I give a shit? These guys cover up a death, perhaps because they caused it and you are worried about my cigar?”
Duffy’s muscles tighten, “Death, Wilson is dead? You think Bailey and Evans did it?”
Stanfield swivels in his chair to face Duffy directly. “First, just so you know, the room has been swept of cameras and listening devices. You would be surprised to learn how many I found. Do you want to hear a story?”
Duffy presents his undivided attention to Dr. Stanfield, “Of course I want to hear what you have to say.”
Stanfield nods then raises out of his chair. “First I want to see your back. Take off your shirt, stand up and turn around.”
Without question he does as instructed. Duffy could feel the doctor’s cold fingers plying his lump. “Not good, do you know it has grown another centimeter since the last time I looked at it?”
Duffy blinks, “Err, no. I thought it might have but I can’t see it.”
“Let me tell you a story,” Murray begins as Duffy tries to hide his concern. “As you are aware everyone is in the dark regarding the work of others. They all have their own piece but are clueless regarding the big picture. Do you have any idea Bailey and Evans have been inserting people into those bodies created from the DNA you gathered? Don’t answer, of course you don’t. Each time the facility has been closed down protected by the killer robots our intrepid leaders inserted a replacement person.”
Duffy interrupts in a near explosion lurching toward the door. Stanfield places his hands on Duffy’s shoulder to slow the man’s exit. “I know you want to rush out there and beat them to death. It won’t do you any good.” Duffy calms as the doctor continues. “What is it five times they went into lock down?”
An ashen Colin Duffy nods answering Murray without words. The doctor presses on, “The DNA you secured came from people who died within three weeks following your visit. They were replaced by customers. Shall we call them customers? Can you guess the price paid to Bailey and Evans for new bodies?”
Duffy began to speak when Stanfield held his hand up to signal he is not done. “I have no idea what the fee is but imagine what you would pay for a new body and be able to take over someone’s life undetected. Have you noticed the common factor? All the DNA you gathered came from young, wealthy, well connected people.”
Colin finally found the words to break his shocked stupor. “They are running a major scam with corporate out in the cold. I get it but what has that got to do with me and this lump?”
Murray smiles, “Now we get to it. As I said everyone is in the dark. Collins developed the bracelet. He knows about the DNA and how that can mimic the body when someone wears it. What he does not know is how the damn thing works. That fell to Dale Cleveland who developed the process. Cleveland is not talking the poor fellow had a fatal skiing accident last year.”
Duffy blinks again having heard nothing of this. In fact he had never heard of Dale Cleveland. Then it hit him, “Doc are you saying Dale Cleveland as in Dale Laboratories? They are parent of this place”
Stanfield continues not answering Duffy’s question. “The guys on the insertion team must be getting a healthy cut because they deny the process works. That leaves me to speculation about the cysts and of the course the toxin. Oh, you don’t know about the toxin. That is why the cysts cannot be removed. Haven’t you wondered why your doctor has not ordered a biopsy?”
Clearly shaken Duffy stutters. “I thought about that but figured you had not enough concern and there is no reason to worry.”
Stanfield nods before hitting Duffy at his center. “The reason I did not do a biopsy is because if I opened the cyst the toxin would be released and you would die within minutes.”
Duffy stands, “I am going to kill those bastards!”
The doctor raises and lowers his head in an exaggerated nod. “I don’t doubt you will but do it when it best benefits you. Bust in there now and blow them away and even if you escape your former employer will come after you. Yeah I am well aware you are ex-CIA. If they don’t get you the toxin will. There is more you need to know.”
Colin sits back on the verge of imploding, “More?”
Murray Stanfield narrows his brows. “Wilson is not the first. You did not know Wilsey and Murphy, agents before you came aboard. Same cysts, same result as Wilson. You are likely next, one more mission and you are done. Like I said there is more you need to know.” Stanfield pauses, “You need a drink.”
Duffy reaches into the cabinet pouring a tall beaker of scotch. “Want one?” Then he pours another for Murray. “You seem to be suggesting there is an out. Tell me the rest of it.”
Stanfield smiles explaining how the story being sold by Bailey and Evans, is a big lie. “You see he tells customers when they inhabit their hijacked identities they will have that person’s memories. That cannot be transferred. DNA does not carry that information. Furthermore, there is no production of new bracelets. That alone raises questions, my guess is, Bailey and Evans have made their money. There is a meeting at the home office. The big guys are demanding answers Bailey and Evans are not giving. You can count on them to disappear any day now. They have a plan for you it is a very interesting plan. In fact it is quite creative.”
Duffy raises his brows his curiosity now heightened. “How do you know all of this and why tell me?”
Stanfield rubs his chin as he sits back considering Duffy. “That’s easy; these criminals killed three friends to advance their scheme. They have destroyed a great company and I suspect they were behind Cleveland’s accident though I cannot prove it. You guessed Dale Cleveland started this company, with my help. I think you can turn the tables by utilizing their plan to dispose of you.”
Colin blinked, “Are you serious? Just walk into their trap?”
The doctor hesitated to consider how he should frame his answer. “Hear me out. You might find their idea may in fact save your life.” Stanfield could see by Duffy’s expression he caught his attention. “Do you remember the last mission? Erin Hopkins the girl in a coma?”
Duffy nods that he does. “She is a real beauty, twenty-one years old thereabouts, wealthy and tried to off herself. She is one screwed up broad."
Murray comes back with, “That’s what they want you to believe. It is far from the truth. You see her worthless boy friend found out she was with child and shot her up with drugs. The authorities bought the idea she tried to do herself out of shame.”
Duffy leans forward widening his eyes, curious where Stanfield is going with this. Seeing he has the man’s attention the doctor continues.
“You know the circumstance, rich child daughter of well establish old south aristocracy and all that. Bailey and Evans figured out you are working for Moss. That makes them upset. When Collins made the adjustments to the bracelet the insertion process became unnecessary. The bracelet will auto insert by the customer simply putting it on. They plan to get rid of you with the bracelet.”
Duffy jumps up his veins ready to burst. “I will kill them!”
The doctor shakes his head. “What if,” letting his question dangle.”
“Ok Doc what are you trying to say? You have a better plan or I should just forget it?”
Stanfield smiles wearing an expression suggesting he in fact has a better idea. “Like I said you can kill them later. That cyst is liable to blow any time now. There is nothing we can do about it. If you had a wealthy youthful body with unlimited resources think of what you could do to Bailey and Evans? As an extra bit of info it might be useful to know when the bracelet is worn the original body is evaporated and replaced by the wearer. One more thing, here is the combination to Bailey’s safe. I will leave the decision to you and I don’t want to know.”
Duffy walked to the door. “Doc you are one sick bastard. I like the way you think. But me a chick, even a rich babe for that matter is a bit much.” He narrows his brows, “I won’t tell you my answer, perhaps if strange things start to happen you will figure it out. What do you want to bet there is more than one modified bracelet in Bailey’s safe?”
Stanfield hands Duffy a bracelet. “Here is a dud, looks like the real thing. In case you need to make a switch with one in a safe.”
As Duffy walked out Stanfield thought ‘Bailey thinks I did not notice him palming the bracelet for Collin’s benefit.’
The first week of summer school came to end with Devon experiencing more than one oddity. This is the first time in his memory a full week of school resulted without being bullied. He is stunned to discover math and history are easy leaving him to expect an excellent evaluation. The idea of not dreading the pending report is a new event. He does not know what these reports will say but classroom feedback from both professors is positive.
There is the surprising fact he has friends. Not only is Trish the best friend Devon has ever had but Mark, what can he say about Mark? Mark is dreamy, he is simply gorgeous and he is crazy about Devon. The last should present a major red flag for the boy. At one level it does but Devon has the perfect rationalization to ignore all the danger signals.
Simply put Devon relies on being able to ditch the bracelet in two months then enter tenth grade putting this behind him. What he has not faced is the realization when summer school ends, Trish and Mark are not going away. Devon is also ignoring obvious physical changes. His voice is higher almost identical to his girl self. His puffy breasts are slowly enlarging and he now lost twenty pounds.
Devon gazes at himself in the mirror not at all alarmed at the noticeable lack of body hair. He brushes his hair to ready for a bike ride to the store. Mom had left a note requesting he pick up a few items for dinner. He rushed out with his intention to get home as there are several things he needs to do to get ready for his trip to Trish’s house tomorrow.
Mrs. James accepted the story that Trish’s brother invited her son to sleep over tomorrow. It surprised Devon at how easy that lie had been. Devon’s odd events continued as he exited the store. He frantically felt his pocket feeling for the bracelet. With one hand holding a grocery bag placing the bracelet on his wrist now is not an easy task. Why the need for this? Across the street stands Rickey and his posse looking directly at Devon. ‘Shit why did I not wear the bracelet?’
Fortunately for Devon, Main Street is a wide avenue in this section of town. It is also rather busy at two pm. There is the matter of Rickey and friends being a bit dull intellectually. Rickey stares at Devon and is set to jostle the boy a bit. Poor Rickey has a deficit regarding his ability to torment his favorite target. He started to the street watching his victim struggle with his pocket. ‘Something is wrong, that kid is not fat. Her hair is rather cute. I always liked that pixie style.’ Rickey thought suddenly taking a second look. He turns to his posse. “That’s not Devon it’s a girl, taller and thinner. Can you imagine a girl looking like Devon?”
The posse laughs and goes into the video game store as a startled Devon makes a quick exit. When the boy entered the house he rushed to the kitchen dropping the bag on the table. His mother called to him from the living room interrupting his flight to his room. “Devon I need to talk to you.”
Mrs. James measured her son with her eyes. Scanning him from top to bottom and halted with her eyes resting upon his hair. What she views is unsettling. Still fixed upon her son’s hair style Joyce considers, ‘that looks like a girls cut. He has feathered it forward covering his brow. I swear it’s called a pixie cut. Look how much it has lightened.’ “Dev what did you do to your hair?”
The boy feels a quick catch in his breath answering her with a question. It is his way of stalling. “What do you mean with my hair?”
Joyce narrows her brows displaying her concern. “Devon your hair is shades lighter it is almost blond for crying out loud. I admit the sandy color is attractive and the style looks good. What are you trying to do?”
Devon is at a loss because he has tried so hard to hide these unexplainable changes. Caught off guard he almost said because Mark likes my hair this way. A bead of water forms on his brow realizing how close he came to a major blunder. Sheepishly he falls back on a safer answer. “Trish likes it.”
Mother smiled remembering Devon has finally found a friend. “I must meet this girl named Trish. When are you going to bring her over?” Joyce beams at the idea Devon may have a girl friend. Her comfort level dips as Joyce James’ gaze falls to the boy's chest. She shakes her head discounting her initial thought. ‘Calm down, he is not growing breast. It is simply fat tissue residue from the weight loss.’ She could not let him go without one more warning. “I certainly hope your right when you say tomorrow’s report is good one.”
Finally excused a greatly relieved Devon wasted no time escaping to his room. He strips down to view what mother is concerned about. His legs are taking a shape decidedly feminine. ‘Fat girl’s legs,’ he thinks. Devon fingers his hair agreeing his mom is right. ‘This is how it looks when I go to school. It should change back when I take off the bracelet. What is going on? If I did not like the look I’d be worried.’
Devon put on the bracelet which instantly dressed him in a cute cotton light tan blouse and a brown A-line straight skirt. The girl wore a pair of dark brown loafers with white ankle socks. Quickly, Devon undressed folding his clothes placing them in the bottom drawer. He grinned, ‘I love how I can shop for clothes without spending money.’ He observed his bottom drawer is nearly full.
Standing in the shower with his bracelet covered with a waterproof band, Devon explored ‘her’ body. Satisfied with her tiny waist, a-cup breasts, flat tummy and sexy legs Devon’s thoughts raised concerns. ‘Do I want to give this up? I have to everyone would freak. Mom is not blind she is already figuring it out. Only the impossibility of this happening is keeping her from taking these changes seriously. Geeze, Dev don’t forget the doctor’s appointment is not that far off. Oh yeah that should do it.’
The manufactured girl exited the shower to sit at her small table. She found herself wishing for a vanity when suddenly something previously unnoticed caught her attention. The second crystal is clear. Devon rapidly removed the bracelet feeling the now familiar queasy turning in his stomach. He put on his shorts and tee noticing two bumps pressing against the shirt. As he stood his shorts slipped down. They were too loose, ‘uh oh more weight loss.’ The alarm over the bumps is suddenly forgotten replaced by worry about his rapid slimming down.
It is dinner time in the southeast. Food means very little to Steven Hopkins who sits in a darkened room listening to the steady beep of a monitor. His steady voice reads absently words from a book having little meaning to him. He makes this effort because many believe his words provide comfort for his still daughter. Hopkins wants to believe this is true. He begs all that is holy to spare his daughter. For a fleeting moment he thought he heard a stirring but no, it is only the rustling of a breeze by the open window.
Hopkins had initiated an investigation of the low life that ruined his daughter. Phil Perkins a university of Pittsburgh drama student surely is the one who got her pregnant. Hopkins made his fortune through the law being one of the top corporate lawyers in Georgia. His firm has grown to a dozen litigators and hundreds of staff. Hopkins had a head start. His father and grandfather had built a fortune through their textile mill empire. He is determined to bring the full force of his might down upon that drama student. His concentration must be on getting his daughter well.
Martha Hopkins enters the room taking her husband by the hand. The man had fallen asleep once again. The book opened lying in hip lap. She kisses his forehead. “It is time for you to go home. Get your rest I am here now.”
Colin Duffy spent his Saturday planning and doing research. There are multiple problems for the former CIA agent to resolve. He needs to discover a way into Bailey’s office without being detected. He also must learn as much as he can about Erin Hopkins. Duffy does not embrace the wild solution offered by Dr. Stanfield. It is something no one with a background such as Duffy’s would even consider. Until something better presents itself the man is left with this hair brained scheme.
Duffy crawls along the ceiling beams carefully making his way in the dark. He had hoisted himself into the crawl space from his room. There are no cameras placed in the bedrooms so he did not have to worry about being seen. Duffy had heard talk someone may have penetrated the labs because security discovered the video blackouts he caused.
The agent suspected they may have recorded him in the lab area on that day. He needed to deflect attention to buy himself time. If they suspected him then he will be watched. Duffy needs to create deniability if he is to have a chance of breaking into Bailey’s office.
Collin returned to his room safely after having shut down the cameras in labs one and two. He carefully timed the interruption to last for two minutes each. Exactly as it was the last time there is no ability for security to see Duffy anywhere near the area. He hoped this will create the misdirection he needs. ‘A visit with Bolton is in order for the near future,’ Duffy considers.
Duffy may have had an interesting Saturday but it was not any more exciting than the one at the James household. While Devon scurried about his room getting ready for his sleepover at Trish’s house his father brought in the mail. Devon worried how he is going to smuggle a skirt, girl’s shorts and the like out the door. Of course he will pack those things in his bag but what if mom wants to see what he is bringing with him. There will be no boy clothes; he does not need to explain that to Trish and her friends. Devon is certain the girls will be looking at what he brought. He no sooner got ready when his father called him downstairs.
Mom and dad were sitting on the back deck drinking tea on this warm June afternoon. Dad looked up at Devon while two sheets of paper were clutched in his hands. Mom sipped her tea not able to hide a broad smile. Devon regards his father trying to ascertain what the man is about to say when Clay nearly explodes. “I never thought I ever see anything like this!”
Nearly freaking Devon, glances down to his decidedly more enhanced feminine legs. He had worn shorts because his weight loss caused his jeans to be way too large. He could hardly hold them up even with a belt at the tightest. Quickly he almost crashed into the chair hiding his legs under the table. The white round metal patio table hid any view of those sexy legs. Devon gazed at his father trying to imagine what he could say. Dad sat across from him at the furthest point, ‘Thank god,’ Devon thought, while mom is to his left.
“Devon, I am so proud of you. Professor Wilkins says you are the most impressive student and a joy to have in his class. Professor Jacobs claims you have an acute understanding of American History. Two A grades, I am stunned.”
All the air seemed to be sucked out of the area like a giant vacuum. Devon took a deep sigh of relief. ‘He did not notice my legs. I thought I was dead.’ Now smiling realizing for the first time ever he made his dad proud. Devon then pressed his luck. “If I keep this up you won’t have to refund the money. You could apply it toward tuition at Bryant for my first year in high school.”
Mother almost fell out of her chair and dad turned an odd shade of pea green. It was father who spoke first. “Do you have any idea how much it cost to go to that private school, do you?” He enunciated “Do you” with great emphasis.
Devon blinked as he recoiled. He knew it was a wise ass statement said as a comeback. As he thought about it he considered what a joy it would be to attend that school. It was mother who answered, not Devon he was too stunned to speak. Mrs. Clancy’s horn blew breaking Devon’s stupor. He waved to mom and dad while running out the door.
Devon barely sat in the back seat when Trish leaned forward slapping at her brother. “Mom tell him to leave Dev alone.”
Mrs. Clancy stared at her son. “Two things junior, first leave Devon alone, second if you don’t I’ll sick Mark on you. He is bigger than you are.”
The two girls laughed as Kevin faced forward quite silent while Margaret drove from the curb.
Mr. And Mrs. James has rushed from the deck but Devon was already in the car. They could see four people but did not catch a glimpse of what Devon is wearing. Another close call for the kid raising the question when is the roof going to crumble? Everyone knows at some point everything evens out. Clayton glances at his wife. “You said her when referring to Devon. Normally that would not bother me but I caught a disturbing glance of his legs. What aren’t you telling me?”
Joyce narrows her brows, also concerned. “I noticed that too and have no answer for you. Those legs were on my mind when I said her. I did not mean anything by it. It was just a slip brought about by how our son looks. That is why I scheduled the doctor appointment. Balmgartner is supposed to be one of the best. I wrote her a letter addressing my concerns. I know Devon will not fess up to anything and I cannot be there.”
The weekend came and went without anything more for Devon to worry about. He managed to reenter his house without getting caught in girl’s clothes. Regarding the claim of nothing happening to worry about there was one thing. Devon is not worried about it but anyone who is of a normal frame of mind will tell you he should be. Devon was standing by the pool in the Clancy’s back yard. He was all alone dressed in shorts and blouse. Trish had been cornered by her mother who ordered the girl to do a chore. Mrs. Clancy suggested Devon wait outside. Devon did nothing wrong, mom was insisting Trish do something she had promised to do.
While Devon walked through a rose garden enjoying the fragrance he was lost in thought. Suddenly without warning Mark appeared. He smiled demonstrating a bashful countenance as he gazed upon Devon. They had spoken for a few minutes when Mark noticed a sparkle in Devon’s eyes. She is radiant standing their so pretty, so innocent. Mark could not resist and without warning he leaned forward and kissed her. Stunned, Devon almost stepped back he nearly slapped Mark. For some unexplained reason Devon did nothing. He simply stared while processing what happened. ‘A boy kissed me, God how embarrassing. I gotta get out of here.’ Devon still did not move.
“I’m sorry.” Mark fumbled. “Don’t be mad it is just that I find you beautiful.”
Devon surprised by what Mark said tries to form an answer but his words are not what he intended to say. “I like you too Mark and I am not upset, just surprised that’s all. No boy has ever kissed me.” Devon stood shocked at what his mouth spit out without warning.
“Never been kissed,” Mark said more in shock than anything else. “Devon, you are beautiful and I would die if you let me be the one to give you your first real kiss.”
Devon steps closer to Mark feeling he has no control. To make it worse he is smiling and signaling he’d love for Mark to kiss him. Mark receiving that same message gently takes Devon into his arms kissing the girl he loves passionately.
At first Devon melted the rush of passion overwhelming her. She almost did not hear Mark when he said something. The words just seemed to evaporate into the air. Devon blinked. Mark gazed at her expecting something, anything while getting nothing. “Dev did you hear me?”
The new girl blinks, “Uh no what did you say?”
Mark would have stepped closer to Devon if he could have. There is no space between them as they are touching. “I asked if you will go steady with me, I love you.”
Devon blinked stammering, “My parents won’t allow that. They don’t let me date yet. What if I promise not to date anyone else?”
Mark smiled as he looked into her eyes. “That is something like going steady.”
As Trish approached she nearly fell over. “Guys, break it up no kissing in my back yard. I’m the only one allowed to kiss in my garden.”
Devon and Mark turned quickly as Trish is laughing. “I take it you two are an item now.”
Colin Duffy found himself with a free weekend as the research facility had shut down until Monday. He knew exactly where to go. Howie Bemis and Kim Bok Sim like to hang out at the Boundary, a country western bar in North Ridge. The pair were techs who worked the insertion program at Dale Electronic’s Laboratories. It was not hard to find them as they were at their favorite past time shooting pool and losing. Duffy spotted them returning to their table after losing another round to some rugged looking good old boys.
Duffy carried three beers over to their table. He slid into the booth handing over the brews. “Hi guys, no urgent business in the works?”
Kim, the short thin Korean laughed commenting in broken English, “All is quiet the bobsie twins have nothing for us to do.”
Bemis grunted, “Nothing happening since your adventure last week.”
Kim corrected him, “Ah Howie san you forgot that old lady who almost had a bird when she flew off.”
Duffy takes a deep draught on his beer raising a brow. He questions Kim, “A bird? What are you talking about?”
Kim shakes his head pressing his fingers to his lips. “I can’t talk about that. Company policy, you know.”
The conversation turned to a fat woman dressed as a cow girl standing on the stage killing some country song in her attempt at karaoke. Kim begins laughing as he rocks back and forth. “I can sing Johnny Cash better than that even with my accent.”
Several brews later Bemis and Kim began arguing over how many insertions they supervised with Bemis claiming the lead two to one. Duffy asked using a surprised tone. “You mean there have been three bracelet tests including the old lady?”
Bemis and Kim nod with Kim adding, “If they were tests they flunked.”
Duffy pushes back his hat raising a brow. “What do you mean flunked?”
Kim is now laughing loudly taking a minute to settle down to speak. “None of them came back. Like you Duffy you always come back.”
Bemis pokes Kim, “Yeah but Duffy does not wear that bracelet.”
Kim nods, “Yeah Duffy why don’t they give you a bracelet?”
Getting into the teasing Duffy fakes a scowl as if he is slighted. “Must be they don’t like me. Maybe they do, after all I don’t get a bracelet and I come back. What in hell is the bracelet for? You guys ready for another round?” Duffy, of course knew what the bracelet did. He is fishing to learn what he can about the insertion process.
Over the course of the evening Colin confirmed what he suspected. These guys have no idea what the insertion program is all about. What surprised him was Bailey and Evans have sent three people over. Duffy has figured out he knows more than the two techs do. He has discovered Bailey and Evans are using the DNA samples to craft new bodies. He now suspects these insertions Kim and Bemis are involved in must be a conversion process. ‘Are these guys replacing people? Is that why they are not coming back?’ Duffy suddenly feels a chill running down his spine.
It all makes sense to Colin Duffy. He thought he was gathering DNA to conduct experiments for genetic research. ‘It is more than that. These bastards are replacing people. So what is it about the people being replaced?’ Duffy forced himself back to the present as his partners broke his private thoughts. “Hey we have to get moving, time to go.” The voice he heard sounded like Bemis.
Duffy stood knowing he is the only sober one here, thinking, ‘I can’t let these guys drive they can hardly stand.’ At closing time Bemis and Kim can barely walk out of the bar. Duffy insists on driving them back to the compound. ‘They can get their cars tomorrow. I have more research to do on Erin Hopkins.’
Duffy sat up the entire night trying to piece this together. Dr. Stanfield confirmed they are creating new bodies. He said nothing about the purpose, or did he? Duffy suddenly recalled his recent conversation with Stanfield. ‘He said they have plans to send me back to college as a babe. Erin Hopkins to be exact she is the girl in a coma. Wait a minute, it is all making sense. They are taking DNA from people who get killed. From what I learned about Hopkins is she has no chance of coming out of that coma. Who was that other person that I took the DNA from? I need to know her name as well. How did they know she was going to die? Dr. Stanfield and I have more to discuss.’
Monday morning as Devon walked down the stairs wearing jeans and a tee his mother stopped him. “Dev those jeans are way too baggy on you. I am going to give you my credit card. I want you to buy yourself three pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts for school. Whatever you do don’t break the bank. Keep the costs down.”
He blinked happy that he could get rid of these ill fitting clothes. Perhaps it will ease the attention to the weight he is losing. He smiled thanking his mother as she left for work. Devon dashed upstairs putting on his bracelet to discover another pair of skinny jeans and cami top. He kicked off the loafers replacing them with a pair of crocks. He did not have time to paint his toenails so he simply shrugged running out the door in time for his ride.
School went by in a flash, though his brief stints between periods could have slowed down. It would have given him time for additional kisses from Mark. Devon flushed when thinking about Mark’s soft lips and the excitement he felt when the boy held him. ‘What in heck am I going to do when summer school ends? How am I going to deal with Mark and Trish? I do not think Devon James disappearing will be something I can pull off.’ Devon cringed at those thoughts.
Mrs. Clancy dropped Devon at Sears rather than his house. Trish hugged her friend as Dev stepped out of the car. “Dev remember Mrs. Curtis will be driving us tomorrow.” She added in a whisper, “Back seat with Mark.”
Devon ran into the store waving to Trish. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Sears resides in the average sized small city mall just north of school about a quarter mile further than Prospect Street. He looked around trying to find a place to remove the bracelet without being seen. This to Devon appeared to be an impossible task. People were every where he looked. He could not enter the men’s room they way he is dressed and the ladies room is also a no, no. The transformation to his real self would freak people out in there. Devon decided he’d have to change in the dressing booth.
‘How weird is this. I am walking through Sears looking very much like a girl shopping for boy’s jeans. Now I know how guys who buy panties feel.’ He giggled at that thought. Devon is aware his girl size is six but what does his male self need? He must have dropped ten sizes. He carried in a pair of boys Wranglers to the dressing rooms.
The woman at the desk looked at the jeans and then to Devon. “Honey, those will never fit a lot of girls wear boy’s jeans but not with your figure. A twenty-four inch waist is way too big.” She shakes her head. “If you want boy’s jeans go to the boy’s department. I’d suggest sticking with girl’s size six, boot cut”
Devon looked at the woman blankly trying to come up with something to say. He knew telling her they are for a brother would not work. Instead he eeped out, “boot cut?”
He only knew he needed something to get past his mother. A girl’s boot cut style may work there is little obvious difference from boy’s as long as the label reports Wrangler or Levis. Still he has not taken off the bracelet. It is something that gets harder to do everyday. Removing the bracelet is not physically difficult, but mentally so. He prefers to be Mark’s girlfriend rather than the old Devon. Back into the main store he selected a girl’s size eight boot cut and hustled back to the dressing room.
The girl at the desk stopped him again. “Honey you look like a six, maybe even a four. You will be swallowed up by those eights.”
He nodded “I know” saying it sheepishly. “The size eight is for my sister and the six is for me. If the eight is a bit too roomy then I know it will fit her. The small boy’s jeans are to see how they fit. You might be right with the girl’s boot cut though.”
The woman smiled satisfied with herself for being helpful. She pointed to the door and Devon entered. Alone at last in a private closet he removed the bracelet the smaller boy’s jeans were still way too big for Devon after taking off the bracelet. He discovered a smaller boy size would not go over his hips. The waist is fine but those hips will never make it. The waist size is only twenty-four. ‘God,’ Devon squeaked to himself, ‘at the end of the school year the old Devon wore forty-two.’
Clearly frightened by what he saw Devon wanted to lose the bracelet and quickly. Again he returned to his previous thoughts of Trish and Mark knowing he could not return to school as Devon the boy. He also knew the changes to his old body have been dramatic. Worries begin to grow centered upon two thoughts. ‘How far are these changes going to go and how can I explain them to mom? No wonder she made that doctor’s appointment.’ His thoughts were suddenly broken.
“Are you ok in there honey.” The woman’s voice called from outside.
“I’m getting dressed and will be right out everything is fine.” He answered.
The woman closely checked the stack of clothes Devon carried out as if he were trying to hide a pair of jeans under the skinny girl’s jeans he is wearing. ‘Like I could stick anything under these tight things and no one would notice.’ “You were right boot cut size six are the right ones. I’ll take these and get a couple more. As for the eights, sis can get her own.”
Around the corner in the misses department Devon dropped the size six jeans and took three size eights. A block from home Devon hid behind a tree to remove the bracelet. Oddly enough he found himself wearing a pair of Dockers style slacks and light cotton button shirt. Both fit perfectly. Mother was in the kitchen when he got home. She called to him as his foot hit the bottom step of the stairs. “Did you find something to fit you Devon?’
He yelled over his shoulder as he fled upstairs. “Yeah I did. I will bring your card down in a minute.”
“Don’t forget the receipt.” Mom called back.”
‘Receipt, shit, shit, shit’, Devon thought as he closed the door. It took no time to cut the size tags out of the waist band. ‘Misses size eight will never fly with mom. It is a good thing mom did not see me when I came in because these Dockers are about to disappear. I don’t want to explain how it is they are not on the sales slip.’
“Dev turn around let me check the waist band. Did you try them on?” Mrs. James questioned as Devon came down the stairs.
“Aw mom,” Devon whined with the mom sounding as the elongated whine of a girl.
Mrs. James’ eyes widened upon hearing this but said nothing. She checked the waist, hips and length. “They are perfect but why so large with the tee shirts?”
Devon had bought three larger size Hanes Beefy tees. He always preferred the roomier shirts because they hid his flabby stomach. The problem now is those a-cups. The larger tees managed to hide them, somewhat. “I like them large mom. I saved you money. The jeans were on sale for fifteen dollars and the shirts were only seven-fifty.”
Joyce smiled at that, “Good I’m proud of you. Don’t forget the receipt.”
Devon rushed upstairs just as his cell began to ring. Happy he dodged a bullet he fell back on his bed. “Hello.”
“How did your shopping go? What did you buy?” Trish’s voice echoed in Devon’s ear.
“Just some jeans the ones I have were getting ratty”
They talked for an hour before Mrs. James called Devon for dinner.
Later that evening Joyce could not shake the feeling there is something odd about those jeans. She scanned the receipt which simply reported Wranglers $14.95 with a series of numbers after the name Wranglers. The tee shirts were simply listed as tee $7.50 followed by numbers and the letter L. “Ok.” She says aloud. ‘The tees are size large as Devon said. That is where the L comes from on the receipt. The wranglers on the other hand usually report the waist size for boys.’ She considers for a moment feeling foolish over her making a big deal about this. ‘Boys and men’s jeans are marked by waist and length like 30 x 30 while girls are labeled with a simple 10 for the size. These jeans appear to be a size eight. No, Devon could not possibly be wearing a misses size eight.’
Mrs. James said nothing about her paranoia to her husband as she felt the fool for having this notion in the first place. Before she went to bed she checked on Devon as she had done every night of his entire life. She expected to see the jeans and tees tossed in the corner. Like a typical boy Devon has always tossed new clothes into the corner pile. Instead she saw tee shirts neatly folded on top of his dresser and the jeans on hangers in the opened closet. ‘My God what is going on?’ She thought as she felt the waist band of the jeans. Not one of them had a size tag. ‘It could be Wranglers took a page from Hanes’ book and have gone tag less.’ She shrugged and went to bed.
In the morning a shocked Devon stood before the mirror looking at his reflection. His stomach has lost little over the past few days. The fat remains there blocking his view of his feet. He sighs at a passing thought. ‘So I can’t see my feet, big deal. I can’t see my thing either. It sure is hard to miss my tits. They are not tits! They are fat residue left over from my weight loss. Keep telling your self that idiot. Those dark brown circles with big buttons, what do you think they are? The name is tits. Reach down and touch your thing if you can find it, go ahead I dare you.’ Devon started laughing saying out loud. “Now I am arguing with myself.”
He flushed looking into the mirror. His reverie was broken by the sound of a horn. ‘I wear misses size 8 jeans and have a-cups, can’t find my thing and am in love with a boy named Mark. I deny anything is wrong. Who am I kidding? But I have never been happier.’
Colin Duffy spent two days trying to hack into Marcus Bailey’s computer he needed information about the so called insertions. Duffy recalled the names of the people whose DNA he secured for Moss Industries. He does not know the names of the other four. Doctor Stanfield had said six bracelets were constructed to his knowledge. Duffy stared at the computer screen, ‘there could be more than six. Collins would know but he is not talking.’
Duffy paused to consider his night at the bar. He remembered Howie and Kim keeping score, ‘yes they agreed it was 2-1 meaning three insertions.’ He found a file named simply, Actions. It is a simple list containing only six names and dates. Colin wrote down the names noting two dates were listed on the line of one name, Gloria Marsh. The others, Erin Hopkins, Jeffery Aldis, Carl Bascome, Susan Parks and Wayne Jeffords noted only one date. ‘Aha, there are six. Are three from this list among those inserted? The question remains which three? They cannot be customers because I know who Hopkins and Marsh are. Why are there two dates following Marsh?’
Colin dug deeper into the files to find screen prints of newspaper articles for four of those six people. Again he considered, ‘why screen prints? Why not provide a link to the paper’s web story?’ He shrugged dismissing it as sensible because a screen print is permanent while newspapers may drop stories from their pages to preserve space. He was satisfied with that answer deciding to research each newspaper for more stories and follow up information. Duffy is particularly interested in Erin Hopkins because if Stanfield is correct it is Hopkins’ body where they intend to dispose of him. Duffy shut down the computer determined to research more after taking a break.
As he walked to Stanfield’s office for yet another physical the number six struck him. ‘Six, Kim and Howie were certain there were three. No one has been inserted into Hopkins. I know that for a fact her bracelet is in Bailey’s safe waiting for me.’ He froze as he considered. Aldis, Bascome, Parks and Jeffords and Marsh ‘Three of those were people inserted by Kim and Bemis.’
Stanfield stepped back after examining the cyst on Duffy’s back. “The good news is it has not grown. You are safe for now.” He smiled at Duffy, “Something is bothering you.”
Duffy replied, “Wilkins, Murphy and Wilsey are bothering me. You said they died after three insertions that means they went in nine times total. When adding my two that makes it eleven total. Do I have that right?”
Stanfield rubbed his chin starring at the ceiling as if the numbers were etched in the tiles. He turns to Duffy, “No I examined each of them being concerned with Wilsey’s sudden death. He went in three times the cysts simply went out of control rapidly. We thought nothing of the cysts as the men did not report them. With Murphy and Wilson they were contained after their third insertions. They were sent back for issues other than DNA. The first two missions were test runs. Wilson only gathered one DNA sample I believe. That means four DNA samples with your two we have a total of six. You said the techs claimed three insertions. The numbers do not add up. If you subtract three from six you have three. One of them is Hopkins where are the other two?”
Duffy considered Stanfield’s words proposing his own thoughts. “You say three including Hopkins proposing Hopkins may be a deal that fell through. As a back up they are toying with using Hopkins for me. That could happen only if I am sloppy enough to be caught by them. What have they got to target me? I have not done anything to target them.” He grins, “Until now that is.” Colin is not about to admit he was sent to steal a bracelet. He does not quite trust Stanfield enough to lay it all out. In Duffy’s business trust no one is the rule.
Colin continues with his line of thought. “I think when the government finds out what these guys are doing they won’t be happy. Bailey and Evans need an out; new identities are the perfect out. Neither one of them would want to live as Hopkins.”
Stanfield considers this for a moment. “Suppose you could be right. Think about what you said Murphy. The techs reported three insertions, you have six names. One of those names, Hopkins, is still waiting, we know that. Three insertions and six names, how do you explain that? What are you going to do, do you have a plan? Why are you even bothering with this? As you said it is nothing to you.”
Duffy widens his eyes, “Nothing to me? For some reason they determined me to be the enemy. Suppose for a moment they are behind those cyst. Let’s face it they cannot afford to have people walking around telling how they sold bodies. I can’t explain where the missing two insertions are either unless they are waiting payment. All we know is two more bracelets are out there. They are likely in the safe maybe waiting for the two perps.” Duffy smiles, “As for me I have only fragments of ideas bouncing around for now. I have to do some more digging then I may know how to deal with them. Try as I might I cannot see myself as Erin Hopkins.” Duffy opened the door telling Stanfield, “later.”
Four weeks have passed with Devon having received four stellar assessments from Bryant Academy. Joyce James sat across from her husband beaming with pride. “Clay it appears you are going to be paying our son for those classes.”
Mr. James peaked over his newspaper with a blank expression. “Joyce the kid does not want the money. He wants me to fork over ten grand a semester so he can go to that school. You know we can’t afford it. In addition to that they require uniforms and other expenses.” He drops his paper on the table with a worried expression. “I wish we could do it I have never seen him so happy. By the way where is he? It is almost ten pm.”
Joyce smiled, “He is out with Mark Curtis again. They seem to have hit it off and are good friends.”
Clayton grumbles, “The way he was acting before he went out I thought he was going on a date. It wouldn’t bother me so much if you said he was with Trish. How come he has not brought Mark around?”
Joyce raised a concerned look as it bothered her as well. She thought, ‘exactly like a date. It is not a date just like it’s not his clothes, his figure, the weight loss and his hair.’ Her brows narrowed on the thought of hair. ‘It is almost honey blond. I should try and get that doctor’s appointment moved up to an earlier date.’ She shrugged, ‘it is only a couple weeks away. Stop worrying Devon is finally blossoming.’
Mark had managed the rare coup of talking his father into letting him drive the car. He had a date with Devon and wanted it to be special. True they were only going to a movie but a guy needs a car to impress his girl. All through the movie they cuddled holding hands. Mark could have sworn he heard Devon purring. That must have been his imagination he decided. Mark fought off every urge to take risk. He certainly wanted to test the waters by accidentally brushing his hand against Devon’s breasts but did not. He respected her too much. Though, he did give his girl a passionate kiss when he brought her home. Mark managed to say “I love you” as she got out of the car. He swore heard her say the same. Poor Mark was in a daze all night. He hoped he did not imagine that.
The front door flew opened and it took three point two seconds for the girl’s foot to hit the stairs. “Devon called, “mom, dad, I’m home.”
He almost made the top step when he heard a booming voice belonging to dad. “Devon, come on down here now!”
It is a good thing it took less than a second to remove the bracelet. The Devon who went on the date was wearing his navy skirt and yellow blouse. The problem surfaced after dropping two steps toward downstairs. He felt the sudden exposure of air against his legs. Something had gone wrong, ‘my clothes did not change this time.’ In full panic Devon cried, “In just a minute,,,, bathroom”
The bathroom door opened with a rush. A panting Devon stepped out of his skirt quickly pulling a pair of jeans from the hamper. Pulling up the snug jeans he tossed his skirt into his open bedroom door, slammed it shut and ran down the stairs.
Joyce looks up obviously disturbed, “I did not hear the toilet flush.”
Devon stutters a quick, “I forgot. I will go get it.”
Mother shakes him off, “It can wait until you go upstairs to your room. Father wants to talk to you.”
Devon slides cautiously into a chair as far from his father as he could. He glances down at the floor. “Did I do something wrong?” Devon’s voice is soft almost quiet as he questioned his dad.
Clayton clears his throat. “You are a half hour late. This is not like you Devon.”
“I’m sorry dad the movie was longer than I expected.” Devon shifted his eyes toward mother.
Mr. James dismisses his son with a warning. “I will let you off this time but don’t let it happen again and call if you will be late. Now go to your room. You have school tomorrow.”
Devon managed two steps before his mother stopped him. “Devon,” her voice clearly shaken, “is that a girl’s blouse you are wearing?”
The boy blinked happy the blouse is a pull over, but sorry it has a scoop neck. He looked blankly at his mother trying to come up with something. “Mom,” again it is the elongated mooom offered by a typical teen girl. “I doubt it; I bought it at the boy’s department. It is the new style.”
Joyce looked doubtful wanting to bring up the issue of what appears to be budding breasts but decided it is late. She did not want to get into it now. “Go to bed we will talk tomorrow.”
The Devon half of this dual physicality is down to a twenty-four inch waist while adding two inches in height. He is now as tall as his female side. Boys are supposed to grow taller and five-feet seven is way better than five-feet five. What normally would be considered a big improvement becomes a matter of concern for the boy. Height is one thing but he has no way to explain the weight loss or his legs. It is those legs that terrify him. So much so he has set a no shorts rule. Even in the heat he sticks to jeans anytime he is at home. Devon stares at his legs in his mirror conflicted. He loves how they look knowing full well this is not supposed to love legs that look like this on him.
He picks up his skirt adding one more new garment to that bottom drawer. “It’s starting to get rather packed in that drawer. I should get rid of the clothes that no longer fit." He said aloud. Still regarding the mirror admiring his pretty self he calls on his ability to deny. His stomach is not the mass bulk of flab that has been source of all his troubles. It is still there, still bulged out though a mere fraction. When he looks down it still hides his feet but not completely. He can now see the front half but not his thing. As he got ready for bed Devon reached down there to discover it felt much smaller. He ignored it not wanting to think about it preferring to admire his hair and pouty lips.
Devon’s eyes fixed upon the reflection of more predominant bumps against his shirt. ‘This is not right they appear to be growing unless it is simply fat redistributed by my weight loss.’ Denial is beginning to take hold because even though the boy is well aware the bracelet is doing more than providing an illusionary girl he continues to use it. Devon has convinced himself completing summer school is the most important thing. Denial of the facts is necessary to justify his decision. ‘I never had friends before. I cannot lose Trish and Mark.’
Duffy found himself sitting in a corner booth at the Boundary once again providing beers for Kim and Howie. “Tell me guys what in hell is going on at your end of the building? It seems to be in full blown panic down there.”
Kim grins one of those conspiratorial eyes narrowed warning glances. He sticks a finger over his lips shaking his head. “Sorry but loose lips sink ships.”
Howie laughs setting his empty bottle on the table. “Barkeep another round” he shouts before poking his partner. “Every word out of your mouth is bullshit. This ain’t the freaking Navy. You can tell Duff here, it’s only Bolton freaking out over his bloody cameras.”
Duffy raises a brow upon hearing the word, cameras. Cameras are something that attracts his attention. “Cameras, what is the problem with cameras?” He raises his glass taking another drink.
Kim drains yet another brew, “You are right Howie, screw em.” It is Bolton he has been on Bailey’s ass bitching about the cameras for a couple weeks now. Bailey promised to replace them but Evans bitched about the expense. Bolton shut down insertions freaking over security. We sit there playing Free Cell all day. It’s nuts.”
Howie jumps in, “Kimmie’s got it right. The bloody cameras keep blanking out at random. You never know when one is going to go out. It started with the lab and has spread to our rooms. The crew has crawled all over them.”
“Christ,” Kim starts, “the pain in the ass had us climb up on ladders pulling down the blasted cameras to check the Goddamn capacitors. Do you know how small those fucking things are? There has got to be a hundred of them in the electronics. There was nothing wrong with any of them.”
Howie nods, “Yeah then we have to track down every electrical circuit in the camera system. I am so tired of crawling over miles of wire. Do you know how many there are?” He answered his own question, “One-hundred miles of wire.”
Duffy shakes his head, “No idea. You have to be exaggerating.”
Kim starts laughing, “Hell no so Bolton throws a fit. He tore out all the cameras in the west wing. He threw the bloody things in the crusher. Evans went nuts he is a bitch, should be wearing skirts. When Bolton told them you promised more cameras and did not deliver. Now you have to replace them all. The brass is pissed, they nearly fired Bolton. The new shipment will not be in for three days. It will be a week before installation is complete. Another thousand games of Free Cell for us. They have the fucking robots working double duty. You are likely to get shot if come to visit.”
Howie swallows another beer laughing again. “Duffy does not know how close he came to getting shot.”
Duffy orders another round as he heard Howie’s comment. “What are you talking about?”
Howie shrugs, “Bolton and Bailey thought you were messing with the cameras. Bailey was certain you were a spy. With the whole system going whacky they weren’t so sure. Bailey had a camera on your door. They recorded when you came in and went out. When Bolton discovered you were in your room while the cameras were freaking out it put you in the clear. There were no remotes or delays attached to any of the cameras so they knew it was just cheap junk equipment.”
Duffy smiled thinking, ‘so the ceiling access had them fooled. They weren’t bright enough to figure out the freaking control panel on the consoles allowed remote access. I guess I know where I am going to be spending my time doing research. Those random shut downs of mine proved to be beneficial.’
Professor Wilkins Calls Reagan into his office for a meeting. The proctor is used to professors requesting she check up on students. This aspect of her job makes her uncomfortable though she accepts it is required of her. Reagan issues a cautious smile fearing the issue is one of her students is in difficulty. She wants to teach at Bryant when she graduates so Reagan strives to be helpful. “Yes, professor what is it you need?’
Wilkins recognizes her hesitancy and issues a warm smile. “There is nothing to worry about my dear. I need to know about my prized student.”
Reagan widens her brows surprised. She is relieved this is not about Debbie Smith. “Are you talking about Devon James, is there something wrong?”
“No, no my dear, tell me about her parents. What does Mr. James do for a living?”
Reagan draws defensive as her nature is to protect her kids. She cannot imagine what this is about. Cautiously she reports, “He is a district supervisor for a supper market chain. He has charge of forty stores in the tri state area.” She watches Wilkins’ expression for a hint before finishing. “He earns about 80k or so, enough to own a nice house. They are middle class and a solid family. Mr. And Mrs. James are involved with community projects.”
Wilkins shakes his head, disappointed over the income aspect but the rest is perfect. “The family cannot afford Bryant Academy tuition is what you are saying. I guess Devon is the winner then.” He laughs.
Reagan repeats what she heard, “Winner?”
The professors’ grin broadens. “We never talk about our summer project Miss Murphy. Surely you have figured out the pittance we charge for summer classes do not make a dent in the costs. This project provides the school an opportunity to offer something back to the community. In the process we have a unique advantage when evaluating candidates for scholarships and determining if applying students measure up.”
Reagan’s eyes scan the professor suddenly realizing this is great news for one of her favorite students. “Professor are you telling me what I think you are?”
Wilkins seeing the girl’s expectations grins. “You are one step ahead of me, Miss Murphy. Yes, Head Master Smithfield has given me the honor of picking this year’s winner of the Bishop endowment. In my mind Devon James is going to receive the full scholarship. As you know Adrian Bishop will pay full freight until the student graduates as long as Devon maintains a B average. I believe she can do that. She has made some excellent friends here. As you know both Patricia Clancy and Mark Curtis’ parents fully support the school. Devon has some influential friends and is brilliant student. I am not going to let her suffer South Hills any longer. Do you think the family will accept? We only have two weeks of school left so I have to decide.”
Reagan almost hugs the professor in her excitement. “I thought the Bishop Foundation supports minority students only. How do you get around that and what do you want me to do, anything?”
“Minorities yes but who determines what a minority is? I’m not about to deny the best student because she is white. That would be a decision based on race. We can’t have that. When you look at the income of our students, Devon’s family is certainly in the minority. My dear girl, I want you to discuss it with Devon’s parents to see if they agree and schedule a meeting for Friday August 9th after lunch.”
Reagan frowns, “I know Devon has a doctor’s appointment at that time. Can you make it later?”
Wilkins nods, “I’d like to but I have a full schedule.” He shrugs, “Never mind find out when they can meet and I will clear the time. Do you think four pm will be ok? If it makes it easier I will go to their house. They are not going to be allowed off the hook easily.”
Mrs. James opened the front door stepping inside calling, “Devon are you home?” She had done this everyday all summer. Devon is not grounded for poor school performance and being forced into summer school. The parents simply insisted he come straight home so they can see he is ok. Mr. James had threatened to call the police because of the bullying. He went so far as to visit Mr. Carson warning if his son continued harassing Devon action would be taken. Carson laughed at him until Mr. James punched him in the nose. The bullying slowed down for a couple weeks then began again.
Suddenly, Joyce recalled Devon will not be home until three. He received permission to go to Mark’s house to work on a school project. Mrs. James’ exhaled slowly and poured herself a cup of tea. She no sooner sat when the phone rang.
“Joyce, I am glad your home.”
‘It is Mrs. Clayton’ Joyce thought, “Is something wrong with Devon?” She blurted out in response.
“No, everything is fine. I’m calling to ask you before I say anything to Dev. My husband has tickets for Friday night. I do not know if you are a fan or not. Trish and Dev certainly are. The hated Reds are in PNC Park and Ned has an extra ticket. The extra ticket is mine, I cannot go, issues with my son Kevin. I am too embarrassed to get into. I thought I’d ask if you’d let Devon go with Trish and her father. They won’t get back until late and we thought being a Friday night Devon could stay over.”
Joyce’s first reaction is to stall waiting to discuss this with his father. Then she thought, ‘seven weeks of straight A’s preceded by months of failing grades, Dev deserves this.’ “That is very kind of you certainly you can invite Devon. I will tell Clayton. He will not have any objections. We will be watching on TV. I am used to my husband watching the games and swearing as his team loses most of the time.”
Margaret Clayton laughed, “They are so good this year. Dare I say we may make the playoffs? Joyce it is long over due we have to meet face to face. We feel we are already friends. Dev talks about you all the time. Let’s get together for a cook out. What about the weekend school ends? Would you guys like to come over?”
Joyce beams, “I am sure we can clear our calendar. Thank you I am really looking forward to meeting you at last. You have been so kind driving Dev to and from school all summer.”
“That is no problem, Mrs. Curtis and I eventually agreed to divide it up. You know Trish, Dev and Mark are as thick as thieves. That is part of the problem I am having with Kevin. I tell him to get over it; you know how it is with teenagers.” Just then Margaret interrupted herself, “Kevin, I have had enough of this behavior.” Speaking into the phone again, Margaret addresses Joyce. “I’m sorry Joyce I have to attend to my son. I will call you later.” Margaret hung up leaving Mrs. James somewhat confused.
‘What did she mean tell him to get over it?’ Joyce shrugs, ‘yes I know what it means, teenagers!’ Mrs. James beamed pleased at the call happy her son has finally made friends and doing exceptionally well at school. ‘Clay will be happy to hear this news.’ She hardly lifted her cold cup of coffee when the phone rang again. “Hello?”
“Mrs. James this is Reagan Murphy. I do not know if Devon has mentioned me or not.”
“Ms Murphy, you are a household name around here. Devon absolutely raves about you. Is there a problem?”
“Heavens no, Mrs. James. Dev is a spectacular student. Professor Wilkins requested I call. He wants to know if you would be interested in having Devon attend Bryant full time this fall?”
Mrs. James, gasps. “Of course, we would love that. But it is too late to apply and we could not afford the twenty thousand per year. We are far from that income bracket.”
Reagan ponders how to frame her response. Her fear is insulting this woman by suggesting she consider requesting financial aide. “I am sworn to secrecy by Professor Wilkins. I can tell you no application is needed. There are no deadlines or filings required. Dev’s summer performance has the school drooling.” She giggled, “The application process is waived. The prof said something about money is of no concern. It won’t cost you anything to talk to him. I only need to know if you would like Dev to attend Bryant?”
Another gasp escapes mother’s mouth as she scrambles for something to say. ‘Devon would kill to attend Bryant. I cannot deny him this opportunity, if it is an opportunity.’ “Are you saying scholarship?” Joyce almost chokes on those words afraid of guessing wrong.
Reagan knows better but answers the question anyway. “I think that is a done deal if you want it. Believe me having graduated from Bryant and now working here, this school almost never invites anyone. Can you come by Friday the 9th?”
Thrilled, Mrs. James’s voice trembles. “That is hard; Dev has a physical at one-fifteen. I am supposed meet with the doctor after. That would be about two-fifteen. I do not see how we could get home until three or later. That would depend on what the doctor finds and how long we meet. Will another day work?”
Reagan jumped right in. Professor Wilkins said he will be happy to meet you at your home. Say four pm, is that ok with you?”
Joyce almost jumped for joy upon hearing Reagan’s answer. “Perfect we will certainly be home at that time. My husband does not know it yet but he will be leaving work early. Can you attend Ms. Murphy?”
Reagan thought about the invitation before answering. “That would be quite unusual it is not something the school has done in the past. If Professor Wilkins okays it I will be there. Oh please not a word to Devon.”
Joyce sat trembling drinking her coffee not noticing it is cold. ‘My God this might be a dream come true for Devon’ The good news for Devon is his mother is spaced out pondering her good fortune praying it come fruition. She did not notice Mrs. Curtis’ car pull up front. Nor did she see Mark walk the son to the door and kiss him before he entered the foyer.
“Is that you Dev?” Joyce calls from the kitchen table. “Come on down I have something to talk to you about.”
At two in the morning armed with information learned through generous applications of beer, Duffy lowers himself into Bob Collins’ lab. There is an essential piece of information he knows has to be hidden somewhere in Collins’ records. Colin knows any piece of equipment must have schematic drawings. Who better to have them than the designer? The bracelets hold vital secrets Duffy must discover if he is to survive. ‘What holds the DNA to the bracelet and how is it distributed?’ Colin raised the million dollar question internally.
Duffy photographs the diagram having found it printed in a manual that is not hidden at all. ‘Hmm it appears the crystals are connected by a fine thread of wire running along the base of the bracelet. Crack the filament at any point and the unit fails. According to notes Collins scratched on the bottom of the sheet the DNA is placed in that small oval depression. It feeds through the crystals following a channel pooling in depressions under each crystal. Each crystal has a small retracted pin that pokes through the bottom of the bracelet. It punctures the skin at programmed time intervals injecting DNA as it flows through. When the level lowers a small plastic flange falls into the stream sealing off the crystals in a left to right order.’
Colin studies the diagram tracing the DNA flow path along the filament. ‘If I understand this, if the filament breaks there is nothing to contain the DNA. It effectively spills out. So that’s what Dale thought when I switched the bracelet with the one containing Marsh’s DNA. A broken filament spilled the DNA. What happened to the one I gave Moss? They claim they did not get it. Are they lying or did Dale recover it?’ Duffy ponders this question, ‘it is not like Moss to let it go even if they had recovered their money. If Dale intercepted it they would not have inserted me to get a second DNA sample. Where did it go? Is there a second Gloria Marsh running around?’
A socket resembling a miniature USB port is discovered near the center of the bracelet. The designation is written simply as insertion port. ‘That is where they connect to transmit people into their hosts. Agents must be waiting on the other side to dispose of the dead body when the replacement shows. How did Collins figure out remote insertion bypassing the techs?’
Another half hour of searching found Collins’ modification drawing. The new schematic simply revealed the mini USB port was replaced with a network wireless connector. Push a button and you receive instant transmission. Duffy also noticed the modifications removed the time lapsed crystal insertions eliminating an ability for clients to test run sampling what they will look like. ‘The modification allows them to ambush somebody bypassing the insertion unit, but why? They must be planning an unrecorded insertion or to make a quick escape. Now to grab a couple mini Allen wrenches so I can have some fun.’
Colin read and reread the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review report on Erin Hopkins. The story told how a college senior was found in her apartment comatose from a drug overdose. No sign of foul play had been uncovered. The police are satisfied she simply got careless with her drug habit. No follow up stories were reported. Other than her being at Allegheny General nothing else is reported. Nothing told of her pregnancy or being moved to Georgia. The story was buried in the third section of the paper.
Even more telling is the notice about Gloria Marsh’s accident. The Enid News and Eagle reported on June 4th Oklahoma teenagers named Luke Chase and Gloria Marsh were killed as Chase’s vehicle was struck by a truck. Duffy recalled, ‘Marsh is the girl who I visited for a second sample. But I did not go there until much later in the month.’ He narrowed his brows continuing to search the newspaper site.
Duffy is floored when he read the newspaper account on the internet. According to what is present day news the June 4 story now claims that Chase was killed but not Marsh. The paper read, ‘A teenaged girl named Gloria Marsh narrowly avoided serious injury having exited the Chase vehicle moments before the collision. The driver of the truck, Otis Stemple was also killed. Ms. Marsh was taken to the hospital suffering shock but appeared to not be in any danger.’
Duffy considered this still troubled by the how. It is impossible enough to accept they can insert someone into another body. That in itself will freak anybody out. How can they pull this off? Duffy opened another beer taking a long drink. When he looked at his notes his eyes flew open and he downed the entire can in a single swallow. ‘Holy fucking shit!’ Duffy’s notes revealed it was on June 12th that he took Gloria Marsh’s DNA the first time. It was June 14th when he dropped off the bracelet for Moss. It was June 15th when he got the second sample. ‘How in hell did they pull this off? After I got the DNA sample the story changed. Wait the dates I acquired her DNA samples are the dates written in the file. So those dates in the list suddenly have meaning. I had forgotten all about the differential in dates.'
Colin discovered the same thing is true of two others on the list. The screen prints of news stories changed. Duffy studies the screen trying to process what he sees. In the case of Susan Parks there is no story of her death. The real time issues on the internet do not report her death at all. It is like the event never happened. The same is true regarding Wayne Jeffords no real time story appears. Again, the initial story reports their deaths and after Bailey and Evans’ insertions real time stories do not exist. The accidents never happened. He is too terrified considering the implications of what he discovered. There were no screen prints for Jeffery Aldis and Carl Bascome. It seems they are being held in reserve waiting for something to happen.
The implications of this struck Duffy. ‘Three stories changed and we have three documented insertions. Now I know which ones were replaced. One has not changed, Hopkins and I know why. I think I know why there is no mention at all about the other two. I need to figure out the time problem.’ He drank another beer then another and one more for good measure then went to sleep.
A happy Devon went up to his room after mother told him about the ball game. How good is it to get to see your favorite major league team in a pennant race? He sat on the edge of his bed basking in expectations until reality hit. As per his rule Devon is wearing jeans wishing with all his might he could put on a pair of shorts. Better yet he could wear that new simply rad skirt the bracelet produced this morning. It is simply dying to be worn. Any astute witness could see by Devon’s sparkle those were his thoughts. The kid’s glistening eyes betrayed his thoughts by how he stared at his open bottom drawer while his fingers caressed the material.
Retreating toward his bed having closed the offending drawer Devon sat. He flipped the bracelet absently in his hands almost afraid to look at the crystals. The third one lost its light and is now clear like the first two. it happened this morning right after he clasped it to his now thin wrist. The awesome skirt simply owned his legs. His gaze shifted from leg to wrists when he saw it. Another light flickered then died. The third crystal became clear glass like the first two. Devon’s response reactively was to strip off the skirt flinging it into the corner. It happened so quickly and once stripped he noticed beyond all horrors his thing is gone.
Yes, Devon can finally see his feet and all lying in between. Not only is he now the same height as his other self their weight is the same. He stared as long as he could at his nether region only to discover a small bump. That was this morning before school. Before he realized for the second time when removing the bracelet almost no change occurred. Out of fear to feed his denial he put on her jeans. They fit his body perfectly. The camisole he put on was one of those silky things belonging to her. It fit the old him perfectly. The boy Devon presented the same profile his female half posed. That is when he sat on his bed crying. That is when he could hear Mrs. Curtis’ horn blowing. That is when he put the bracelet back on hoping something different would appear.
Now, hours later looking at the mirror in the late afternoon his beefy tee is not hiding those prominent a-plus cups. ‘I need bigger tees, yeah like that will work. With my loss of weight and missing belly these shirts fit like a dress.’ Bigger cannot be better though they are not as prominent as Devon imagines. A prosperous event like what is happening to Devon would make even the smallest mammary appear huge. ‘Another week and a half to go and I can ditch the bracelet. I think it is already too late. I might as well keep using it how bad can things get? I already have to sit down to pee.’ Denial commands the boy’s thoughts as he processes his current circumstances.
Devon stood in front of the mirror checking himself out. ‘I love how I look no matter what this has been worth the cost.’ Then without warning his mood changed. ‘Mom and dad are already freaking out. How do I get past the doctor and convince my parents nothing is wrong? How can I go down to dinner expecting no one to notice?’
Mrs. James served dinner at a slow pace being distracted by her son’s appearance. Clayton James noticed his wife’s odd glances. He did not say anything as he too is looking at Devon. They ate mostly is silence, a silence that is hard on the boy. Several times as Devon caught the questioning stares he half turned, hunched his shoulders or raised his arms reflexively to shield view of those cups.
Clayton could not hold it in any longer. “So Dev you are going to the ball game with your girl friend. Her father must like you to bring you to the game with Trish.” Dad’s expression betrayed a level of pride as if to say “Attaboy.”
Devon nearly dropped his fork as she turned to face dad. ‘He thinks Trish is my girl friend. She is my best friend and yeah she is a girl but girl friend in a romantic way. How gross is that? A boy is supposed to like a girl in that way. What is wrong with me?’ Then it hit him not to say anything especially not to bring up Mark. Devon simply blushed causing his father to smile again thinking he is right.
Joyce watched this exchange thinking it cute but somehow wrong. She diverted the conversation by asking Devon a question that bothered her all day. It was something Trish’s mother had said. ‘What did she mean, tell him to get over it?’ That thought had rattled around in her head all day. “Dev do you know what Trish’s brother Kevin did to get in trouble? Mrs. Clancy said her husband invited you to go to the game because of something Kevin did. She is not going so she can stay home with her son.”
Devon wanted to run out of the room screaming. He could feel his face begin to redden. Stalling he said, “She did not tell you mom? I was wondering myself and did not get a chance to talk to Trish to find out.”
Mrs. James shook her head, “No she did not. I was curious wondering if you knew.”
Devon shrugged calling up a memory from when he spent the weekend at the sleepover. Kevin trapped him in the upstairs hall and tried to kiss him. Dev had stepped back saying, “Leave me alone Kevin.” His mother had just come up the stairs catching her son. Kevin was grounded for the rest of the weekend. Devon almost freaked begging Mrs. Clancy not to tell his mom. He could not tell why his mom would go nuts. Devon is terrified Mrs. Clancy will spill the beans. Mrs. Clancy said she understood assuring she knew it was not Devon’s fault. Following the shrug Devon reinforced his earlier answer, “I have no idea mom. Trish did not tell me. May I be excused; I have a lot of studying to do?” Devon begged to escape what he felt is an inquisition.”
Clayton nodded his assent watching his son walk to the stairs. ‘When did he develop that wiggle?’ Dad blinked suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It is a presentation not gone unnoticed by his wife.
“Dear,” Joyce began, “I got the strangest call today from Reagan Murphy.”
Mr. James offered a quizzical gaze, “Who?”
“She is Devon’s proctor at Bryant Academy. A fancy school has to assign an impressive name to a tutor. They do things like that. This is going to surprise you; no Devon is not in trouble. It is quite the opposite. I need you to be home by four o’clock on the ninth.” She watched her husband’s brows raise as the man is about to speak. She cut him off with rapid fire questions of her own. “What did you think when you found out Devon had to attend summer school or be held behind? What was your reaction when you heard he was assigned to Bryant? You never spoke about it and I know you always have an opinion.”
Clay cleared his throat surprised at his wife’s raising the issue. He spoke softly not wanting his voice to carry upstairs. “I was pissed off at the kid for screwing up the entire year. I was angry I had to spend the money and find transportation for him. I thought Bryant would escalate the bullying and eat him up in the classroom. Because everyone there is rich and the work would be more difficult. There was no way he could keep up in that school.” Clayton flushes, “I was wrong.”
Joyce grinned, “Be prepared to be floored. Miss Murphy said Professor Wilkins will come to the house. He wants to meet us to discuss Devon.” Clayton raises a brow again about to speak but Joyce holds her hand up. “Professor Wilkins wants to know if we will accept a full scholarship for Devon to attend Bryant full Time. It is a three year offer if he can maintain his grades. They made me promise not to say anything to Devon. I am almost bursting.”
Mr. James opened his mouth you could almost see the dollar signs fly out. “For three years that is sixty thousand dollars! My God this is wonderful. I will be here that is for sure.” Clayton sat dazed staring at his opened newspaper. “What about his wiggle?” He muttered those words believing no one heard.
Joyce stopped clearing the table sitting abruptly. “You noticed that, I am surprised. Did you see his breasts as well?” There is a note of sarcasm in her tone. ‘Clayton never notices anything that matters.’ She thought.
The newspaper fell with a thud onto the table. That is if a paper dropped a few inches could make a loud noise. In this case tension is raised to a level where everything is heightened. “Joyce! Don’t be ridiculous. The boy does not have breasts. He has lost so much weight in his mid section his chest has not tightened as much. The flabby tissue remaining on his chest simply appears to be breasts. He needs to work out a bit, that’s all. I noticed and looked up information on the internet.”
Mrs. James’ eyes widened hearing her husband’s rationalization not buying it. She knows, like all women do, what breasts look like. “Clay, next you will be telling me those legs of his, appearing movie star quality beautiful are my imagination as well. Have you noticed the boy will not wear shorts? The only thing saving him from a 911 call is the appointment next week with Doctor Balmgartner.”
Clayton James reaches for his newspaper his gazed fixed on his wife. “Yes dear my son has breasts walks with a girlish wiggle and has great legs. It’s every father’s dream. Let’s wait for the doctor’s report before freaking out. I will focus on those straight A’s, a sixty-thousand dollar scholarship and his scoring a very pretty girlfriend.” He puts his paper down, winks kissing his wife’s cheek.
Duffy sat in his room satisfied reviewing newspaper reports he had copied from Bailey and Evans’ computers. He marveled at how resourceful these two were. He could not figure out how they could manage to locate people who died and then insert customers at the moment of death. It had to be done almost instantaneously for the switch to work. ‘That is impossible. They cannot steal DNA then insert it into even a premade bracelet. There is no time, unless the bastards are the ones doing the killing. I doubt that is the case. It is too complicated. There is more research for my to do list. Speaking about time I have little of it left. The cameras will be functional in another day or so.’
Colin spoke to his drinking buddies the evening before. Liberal doses of Iron City beer lubricated the vocal cords. He learned corporate paranoia targeted the research labs and the tech sections. The boss’s offices were of lower priority to the Security chief. They expected to finish the lab cameras last evening and the insertion rooms will be secured the next day. Tomorrow Bailey and Evan’s office will be renovated. ‘It is now or never,’ Duffy thought.
One more adventure through the rafters and his tasks would be completed. That is in regard to information gathering and this sabotage mission. Colin dropped through yet one more ceiling tile to face Bailey’s safe. There was one problem Duffy could hear a familiar metallic clunk. That sickening sound could emanate from only one source, killer robots. ‘The bastards brought in robots. I should have known they would pull something like this.’ As the sound drew closer he could see the frontal metal scoop housed on the lower front of the robot. It served as a bumper. A robot turned a corner entering the room just as Colin swept his legs above the ceiling tile.
Colin laid face down peering through the open tile grateful the robots did not have the ability to look upward. Their eye movement or sweep extended left or right as their tops could not swivel up or down beyond a few meters. They are sound and motion activated directing their sensors toward any noise or movement. The electronic eyes transmitted the source to a processor to calculate weight and mass. The sum then determined appropriate force required to terminate the target. Movements by these glorified shop vacs were straight ahead. They swept a room taking square corners at each turn. The blocky movement may allow a fast moving prey to avoid the laser. It is a game Colin did not want to play.
Duffy watched as the bot went straight to the corner turned right continued straight to the next corner turning right again. It repeated its movements eventually exiting the room. Duffy knew the straight line crawl may appear easy to avoid but that is far from true. The beast could stop to turn its laser in a moments notice. He also knew it would be back too quickly disallowing time to drop, open the safe, remove the contents then reach the ceiling before Robby returns. His one hope is to position himself to be in direct line with the machine. In that way he can deactivate it with his remote from above. Colin waited and waited some more.
The clunky whirling shop vac sound grew louder. Colin knew he had one shot. If he missed another tedious wait will be forced. His beam of light fired fast and true making a direct hit. The machine stopped cold next to a desk. Colin selected a square of floor not in line with the bot, ‘just in case.’ The plan is to remove Erin Hopkins’ bracelet replacing it with the dud he carried. Dealing with Bailey and Evans’ bracelets will require time, creativity and a lot of luck.
Duffy held Erin’s bracelet in his hand ready to make the switch when a very bad idea struck. Instead of simply switching bracelets he paused. Colin reached for the Allen wrenches finding the correct size. With a few twists he opened the bracelet. Employing a stealth flip Colin cracked the filament wire to view the DNA. It did not appear to evaporate as he expected. A jell like liquid slid from the depression like a slithering worm. As it did so it changed forming a gas like element. ‘Just like science class.’ He mused. Duffy opened the dud to remove four tiny metal flanges separating the crystals. A tiny depression is under each forming a holding place for a portion of DNA. ‘This is where the time capsule effect takes place.’
Colin recalled the schematic of the modified bracelet understanding the adjustment he must make to this unit. ‘The modified bracelets lack these flanges. Collins’ modification created a free flow of DNA preventing the time lapse gradual changes to the wearer. Instead of four crystals dispersing timed released injections to provide gradual changes activation of the USB unit injects the user with the full dosage creating instant transition. Replacing the four flanges defeats this action. It will not work without the DNA but who knows the result if someone activates the bracelet without DNA?’
Duffy replaced four flanges it in the slots next to the crystals. He then left the USB connector alone. ‘It helps to be paranoid. Bailey and Evans can still activate instant change. Without DNA and the blocked flow all they should receive is a dosage of air. I wonder what that will do?’ He thought. Colin slipped the dud in his pocket leaving Erin’s in the safe. ‘I have a bracelet able to create instant change with no DNA. In other words I am screwed. What did you do to yourself Duffy?’
After he did the same to the other two bracelets Duffy copied some documents with his cell phone camera then scampered into the duct work. Once reactivating the robot he crawled back toward his room. ‘I just did something incredibly stupid by leaving Erin’s bracelet I might have sealed my doom.’
He sat back with his feet up drinking a beer when his cell rang. Duffy long ago figured out the company is monitoring the cell phones they gave workers. He had purchased one of those throwaways that are untraceable to use because of this. The caller id reported his old friend Jake Cowens is calling back.
Jake works for the Treasury Department. He and Duffy spent many weeks and months working together when Colin was an active agent. Duffy picked up the phone, “Jake?”
“Duff, how are you doing? I want to thank you for the tip. This bust is a feather in my cap. I feel a promotion coming on and I just had to thank you. Buddy I don’t want to bore you with the details. You should just turn on Fox News they are having a field day. I owe you a favor.”
While Jake held the line open, Duffy turned up his TV and began laughing. “Jake you can do me a favor. I have two names I like to think of them as persons of interest. Jeffery Aldis and Carl Bascome, see what you can find out for me. I can’t tell you what I’m working on but it is something wild. Watch your e-mail an encrypted packet is on the way. I will meet you on Friday night, nine pm at the Bow Tie in PNC Park.” Duffy redacted the identities of the three inserted people. He did not have the heart to destroy the lives of the family in Oklahoma. ‘Let them have their teenaged daughter and if the old lady can adapt more power to her. I shudder to think what the Feds will do if they go after those people. As near as I can tell the others only figured out a way to live longer. There is enough here to cause Bailey, Evans and Collins plenty of pain. It should keep Treasury busy for awhile.’
Duffy watched television to see Treasury agents marching Nathan Moss and Benton Kay on a perp walk wearing hand cuffs. The news story showed Jake Cowens read the charges of extortion, corporate espionage, tax evasion and possible national security leaks. Duffy smiled feeling not the least bit guilty for planting damning evidence onto their computers. ‘There are two down and many more to follow.’
Devon paced in his room fretting over what to wear to the ball game. He needed to appear girlish enough to satisfy Mr. Clancy and Trish while boyish enough to not raise his parent’s suspicions. He put the bracelet on to discover no magical change of clothing appeared. ‘I must have used up the clothing allotment. That’s ok as there is no more room in my dresser. The problem is if it is a problem, those clothes fit both versions of me.’
The boy intended to wait in his room for Mr. Clancy to blow the horn. ‘The game starts at seven so he should be here around six.’ Devon’s calculation will prove to be off just a bit. Once again he dressed in jeans, the boot cut ones not the skin tight style donated by the bracelet. Those jeans are certain to cause a problem. He also knew skinny jeans were not the favorite of Mrs. Clancy. Satisfied he solved the first hurdle, he dug out one of his old shirts. A black and gold synthetic one with the number 21 embossed on the back. The Pirate emblem prominent on the front sat over the pocket area with the team name across the chest. Clemente of course, is written on the back above the now retired legendary number. Devon never had seen the Great One play ball beyond dated 35 millimeter film. But he knew every stat and heroic deed accomplished by his idol. The boy topped of his look with a team ball cap. ‘The cap is required gear and hides my hair. This should work.’ It goes without saying the shirt that once fit a one-hundred-sixty pound five-feet-five inch boy swims on a barely one-hundred-ten pound taller girl. ‘Plenty of loose material to hide the girls,’ Devon thought.
Ned Clancy did not subscribe to Devon’s belief that he park in front of the house blowing a horn. He is a father of a teenaged girl himself and fully understands the rule. Mr. Clancy firmly believes any boy who dates his daughter knocks on the door. That boy will introduce himself and be held to father’s scrutiny. This will be done for each date. There will be no horn blowing followed by his daughter running out the door. Ned will have none of this when he allows, if ever, his daughter to date. When the door opened Ned smiled at the man answering. “Hello I’m Ned Clancy; this is my daughter, Patricia.”
Clayton James extended his hand firmly shaking with it. He viewed the polite man at his door. ‘A firm grip this fellow presents, I like that.’ “Mr. Clancy, come in I am pleased to meet you. This must be the lovely Trish we have heard so much about.” He steps aside as Joyce presses forward with her own greeting.
“Please sit down,” Joyce begins pointing to the sofa. “You are earlier than I expected. I will call Devon.” She calls up the stairs. “Dev, Mr. Clancy and Patricia are here.”
Ned and Trish sit on the sofa opposite Devon’s parents. Small talk is exchanged each taking the measure of the other. Ned answers Joyce’s comment about the time. “Yes we thought if we got there early we could eat at the ballpark. It is not like the old days they now have restaurants with real food.” He chuckled noticing an, ‘oh dad’ expression from his daughter.
Joyce nodded her understanding. “I was just about to put dinner on the table. Would you like to join us?”
Trish shook her head, “No thank you Mrs. James. Dev and I have been dreaming of those great burgers and onion rings at the ball park.”
Her father tosses her a glance sort of a warning. “It is nice of you Mrs. James but we should get going, traffic and all that.”
Clayton reaches for his wallet. “May I give you the price of Devon’s ticket. It is nice enough of you to provide a ride and all. You cannot be expected to bare the expense of a ticket.”
Ned declines, “No bother we have season tickets for the family. If we don’t use them they go to waste. That happens often enough. Margaret is not a great fan and often stays home. It is Trish and Kevin who love the games.”
Joyce is dying to ask what did Kevin do but she knew better. It is none of her business if he wants to say fine if not that is fine too instead she blurts something else. “What is holding up Devon? Dev come down here you are holding up your guests.”
Ned smiles inwardly, hearing Mrs. James. ‘It is universal with all girls. Take your time make sure everything is perfect. We can’t go out without every hair in place.’ He nods to Mrs. James, “That is ok I thought Trish would never finish everything must be in place.”
The girl poked her father, “aw dad.”
Devon heard his mother as her voice broke through his worried thoughts. The boy is in a sweat fearing conversation terrified a pronoun is about to break out. His plan was to run down the stairs and yell c-ya before escaping through the door. That is blown now and he yields slowly walking down the stairs. Trish upon seeing Devon rushed over giving her friend a warm hug.
Clayton upon seeing Trish’s excitement, smiles. ‘Devon can deny having a girlfriend all he wants. The young lady just let the cat out of the bag. I have to hand it to Devon she is a very pretty girl and well mannered.’
Mrs. James watched as the parties reached for the door. “Mr. Clancy don’t worry about the time. We will be watching the game so we know when it ends.”
Ned widened his eyes, “We plan to come, straight home. I will call if anything changes. In fact I will call when we leave the parking lot. Please, call me Ned we are friends.”
Both Joyce and Clayton responded in a single voice agreeing first names are welcomed. They watched the car leave before turning on the TV. “What is Devon hiding?” Joyce asked her husband.
Clay blinked, “What are you talking about?”
“The shirt it is bigger than a tent. Why wear that unless you are hiding something?”
Clay grumbled, “Joyce the shirt is a memento of his favorite ball player. It is the only one he has. Did you see the hug his girlfriend gave him? Next you will be questioning if our son is a lesbian.”
Duffy sat in a corner by the rail. He had a full view of the below the clear glass windows. He drank a beer slowly waiting for Jake. It is close to nine and the game is entering the bottom of the seventh inning. He had to admit he is enjoying the action. He saw a shadow reflected in the glass then heard a voice.
“It appears that young fellow Locke is tossing yet another gem. Seven innings completed with only one hit and no runs, against one of the best hitting teams in the league.” Jake Cowens is heard to say. The man continues, “It is almost as interesting as that file you sent me.”
By now Duffy had turned to face his friend. “I thought you would like it. The stuff should keep you guys busy. It seems NSA is getting quite aggressive and their minions are guilty of several national security violations.”
“Uh, Duffy you are no longer active and do not have security clearance. Can you explain how you inserted yourself inside this project?” Jake fumbles knowing it is a delicate question.
“You are quite correct, I do not have clearance. I was hired by Moss to secure a prototype of the product developed by Dale Laboratories. I had no idea Dale is a front for the NSA. I applied for a job to poke around. They had me gathering DNA samples and suddenly things did not add up. I managed to get my hands on one of their bracelets. That is what Moss wanted. The problem is Moss claims it was not at the drop. I heard their agents drive up mere seconds after I made the deposit. I got curious, instead of leaving I wanted to know who got the bracelet. Either moss lied to avoid paying me or Dale intercepted it. Knowing who they are if they had I would not still be walking around.”
Jake grins, “That’s for sure these guys are heavy hitters.”
“In the process I discovered Bailey and Evans were running their own game selling the government’s product. They secreted about fifty million. You have the account numbers. What I haven’t figured out is who those two names I gave you are and how they shift time.” Duffy went on to explain the screen prints and the change in the news stories. “It is not possible without time travel or major newspapers faking stories. What can you tell me?”
Jake, now sitting appears in deep thought as if trying to process how much he can say. Suddenly the noise level rises and the crowd is standing and cheering. The radio broadcasts is heard in the room. It was on going but few listen as personal conversations generally take prescedence.
The announcer can be heard yelling, “Clear the decks cannonball coming. G.I. Jones just hit one into the stands below the Bow Tie Rest. Pirates 3 Reds 0.” The excitement demands all attention and the two men can hardly hear other.
Duffy’s reaction is to watch the replay on the gigantic video screen. He sees the ball launched into the stands below him and a man catch it on the bounce. He leans over to the row ahead of him handing it to a girl. Duffy thinks nothing of it and turns back to Jake as this quiets down.
“I can tell this much the two you wanted to know about do not exist. That is not quite accurate, they do on paper. Those account numbers you gave me for Bailey and Evans are in the names of Jeffery Aldis and Carl Bascome. They both bought Villas in the Med, south of Madrid. What does that tell you Duffy?”
“The easy answer is Bailey and Evans had two modified bracelets with somebody’s DNA and proper identification to make their escape. What if, the DNA is their own? The claim is they can adjust it creating the age required for their usage. A younger version on themselves with new ID and piles of money will fit nicely into those villas. That means Collins has to be involved. Bailey and Evans could not do that by themselves. You have not mentioned the time travel question.” Duffy stares at Jake trying to will an answer.
Cowens is walking on thin ice he can only say so much. Duffy is a friend who boosted his career with the Moss information. He has just exposed national security crimes saving the government a major embarrassment. Jake exhales dramatically. “I do not have the details but a contact in NSA confirmed they cracked partial time travel. They can only go back three months. I don’t need to tell you this goes no further and there is no hard evidence to offer. One more thing, Bailey and Evans along with Collins and Bolton are at a meeting in the home office. They won’t be returning. Just so you know they don’t exist. You know how sanctions work. Stanfield, you will love this. He is the guy who developed the toxin. The plan included a neat way to get rid of agents. Not to worry Stanfield had an accident. None of this will be in the news. Your friends, the beer drinkers are cleaning the place up. They should be done in another week and no one has ever heard of Colin Duffy.”
Duffy turned pale knowing his time is limited. “How long have I got?” He generated all the strength he could muster to ask that question. The heat rose in the back of his neck.
Jake could see his reaction having witnessed this before. “I need that bracelet in your pocket. About three weeks according to the experts.”
Colin blinked, he knows the bracelet is worthless to him absent of DNA it cannot effect any changes. Without a word he hands it over to his friend. Jake said something Colin barely heard. He turned to see no one there other than the crowd watching the game.
Jake’s words hung in the air “Enjoy the rest of the game.”
Not caring that the Pirates won 3-0 Duffy shut everything down. That is until he saw the replay on the giant screen. The kid holding the home run ball looked familiar. “God, the second Gloria Marsh.”
Duffy scanned the crowd trying to find the kid. He knew they sat right below him in the front row. They were gone now. He shrugged, ‘what does it matter? I am dead in three weeks. Those who did it paid the price. I may as well enjoy the time I have left.’
Devon arrived home carrying his prize the home run ball hit by his new hero G.I. Jones. Mr. Clancy must have had some kind of in with the team. He managed a meeting for Devon with the ball player who not only signed the ball but offered a new shirt with his favorite player’s name and number. Devon wanted to say Andrew but he did not. Instead he quickly said, “I’d like number forty-six.”
The player smiled having access to a supply of shirts with his own name and number. Garrett Jones handed Devon a girl’s large understanding Devon liked his shirts big. “Devon, I know you like Cutch so you could ask for one of Andrew’s shirts without hurting my feelings.”
Devon blushed knowing he could have made that request but this guy is a hunk. “I think I have a new favorite player now.” That is all he could think to say.
All the way home, Trish teased her friend. “You absolutely wear that shirt to school on Monday.”
Devon’s parents were excited to learn Devon had a great time and he had the autographed home run ball. Clay smiled broadly hearing the story. “You mean Garrett Jones in person and he gave you that shirt? Wow! That is certainly exciting now go try it on I have to see it.”
Mother is no help encouraging Devon to do exactly as father request. The boy stands in front of the mirror viewing his bumps pressed against his new shirt. Once again it is important to say they were hardly noticeable. To the boy they appeared as twin peaks. ‘I may as well go down they are going to figure this out at some point.’
Devon’s parents admired the shirt. Mrs. James felt the material ordering Devon to do a slow turnaround. Devon dreaded the close inspection as mother checked whatever she is checking for. She finally steps back. “Well Devon that is a quality shirt.”
Dad interrupts his wife, "It ought to be. Do you know what they cost?” he asked as he checked the label.
Mrs. James having no idea comments, “Twenty-five bucks. You know they charge outrageous prices at places like that.”
Father says, “Try one-hundred according to the label this is the same shirt the team wears. Not a facsimile. Besides, Jones autographed it by hand. It is right here written on the number four.” He notices his son’s surprised expression. “Didn’t you know that Dev? Take your shirt off and look at it.”
Devon blushed he cannot take that shirt off. Not only will his breasts become obvious but just in case they do not notice his bra will certainly tip them off. Yeah he is wearing a bra because it is necessary. It was a parting gift from the bracelet. Devon shakes his head. “I already looked at it dad. I watched him sign it.” He lied, and ran up the stairs.
It is early-August. Colin is shaken not only is his belief that time travel is involved confirmed He knows his time is almost finished. He again viewed the Tribune-Review article determining it to be written on June 16th. Duffy went to the internet to verify the article remains on the paper’s website unaltered. Frustrated with his inability to resolve his conflict, Duffy made a critical life altering decision placing himself at great risk. That decision was made a week earlier when he did not take Erin’s bracelet.
At three am he crawled through the ceiling duct works coming to a stop above the insertion room. He could see both Howie and Kim sleeping at their consoles as he knew they would. Duffy had spiked their coffee with liberal doses of sleeping tablets. He used his remote to blind the camera knowing security would notice a slight blink. He laughed considering the hyper Bolton will go nuts when he finds his new cameras when on the blink again. That is would have gone nuts if only he survived Cowens’ intervention. He set his round trip to return him to the room at a point in time a minute after he left. ‘Playing with time can certainly raise hell.’ He thought as he dropped through the ceiling.
He set the insertion process to allow entry to the hospital room five minutes in time later than he had on his first trip. He needed to undo an action taken on the initial mission. Duffy looked closely at Erin’s neck removing the implant he had placed in the young woman’s ear. Returning to the insertion room Duffy made a quick turn around.
Duffy found himself in front of Erin Hopkins’ apartment just off the university campus one hour before the girl supposedly shot herself up. He watched from a darkened corner to see Phil Perkins enter Erin’s apartment. It did not surprise him to see Perkins slip Erin a date rape drug. When he was through with repeatedly violating the drugged girl he injected her with something else. Duffy found the urge to kill this bastard almost impossible to control. He held firm knowing he must understand what happened. He is relieved this young girl did not try to kill herself because she got pregnant. She did not overdose by accident either. She was murdered. The news reports got it wrong. Duffy knew at once he made the right decision. He could feel the cyst growing and knew he must hurry.
In a flash Duffy reappeared in the lab. Both Kim and Howie remained asleep. It was less than a minute from the time he first entered. Without wasting a second he reappeared on campus one hour earlier than his previous visit. He waited in a dark neighborhood park watching Perkins appear. Duffy’s stun gun instantly dropped his target. Colin dearly wanted to punish this prick in a painful manner. His rage is nearly uncontrollable. ‘I must control myself there can be no mistake this pos did himself.’ Duffy quickly injected Perkins’ entire supply of drugs into the creep adding a mixture of his own. It is a blend of drugs that reportedly will produce a most painful death. Colin waited long enough to witness a facial contortion of pure terror. Perkins could not scream from the pain as his vocal cords were crushed. Colin confirmed his target is terminated. ‘It’s my most satisfying sanction. I hope Erin will not be too upset she got stood up tonight.’ Duffy reappeared into the insertion room two minutes after his first visit. He exited via his entry route proud of himself.
Duffy drove his car to a motel just outside North Ridge. He knew two things, one that he will die within days. Jake told him three weeks. If true he has twenty days. Does it really matter he cannot run from himself. The other issue is that kid, the second Gloria Marsh. He has already discovered the Tribune-Review reported the death of a drug dealer. A guy named Perkins had committed suicide. The paper quoted a source saying it may have been a drug deal gone bad. It may have been suicide. Either way the community benefits from Perkins’ demise.
Colin checked to discover Erin not only is not in a coma secreted away in Georgia but she is well and graduated from Pitt. He employed his secret agent skills to confirm the young woman is healthy, happy and not pregnant. If nothing else that action allows Duffy to feel he is about to die for something worthwhile. He only hopes Erin lives a productive happy life.
He has only one piece of unfinished business, finding Gloria Marsh part two. Duffy had spent the last five days doing what a CIA operative is trained to do, investigate. He may be retired but he has lost none of his skill set. Retired is something agents do not do at a young age. Disappeared is likely a better descriptor of his status. Why check out North Ridge? This family, a father and two daughters could have been from Ohio, West Virginia or Pennsylvania. For that matter any other state. Duffy had secured a photo from the video of the kid with the ball. Breaking into the park’s system was no big deal. It was harder to crack the CIA’s database.
His difficulty to identify Devon is because the girl with the ball has her back facing the camera in the video. Dad and the other girl on the other hand were full faced. Duffy’s break came only because Dad is a Federal prosecutor. Imagine Duffy’s luck to have Ned Clancy turn out to be a lawyer high up in the Justice Department. Initially Duffy suspected yet another arm of the government with its fingers in the trough. Duffy soon learned Ned Clancy had a son and a daughter. Patricia and Kevin were their names. The recognizable girl was definitely Patricia. The other girl was not a Kevin. That much is certain. Duffy being Duffy wondered for a few hours if Ned was one of those people who had a perversion. He doubted Clancy turned his son into a girl. He proved that by tracking Kevin down himself.
After two days of this he soon discovered Devon James is a girl that is the spitting image of Gloria Marsh. South Hill’s school records list Devon as male. Yes Colin did confirm Gloria is in fact still in Enid Oklahoma. Colin was quick enough to figure out Devon somehow came into possession of the bracelet. Duffy is more than confused over the how and the why of this. He has determined there is likely a logical explanation but he cannot let go it. ‘Is Clancy behind this?' Colin thought. He will put nothing past this government. Duffy sits in his car in Dr. Balmgartner’s parking lot watching.
Margaret Clancy parks her SUV by the front door to allow Trish and Devon to exit. Duffy watches the two girls walk toward the door hearing Devon who appears uncomfortable speak. “I told you Trish you don’t have to wait for me. You should ride home with your mom.”
Trish looks doubtful, “I’m worried that’s all.”
A horn blows and a woman’s voice is heard. “Trish, I am not going to wait all day. We need to get home. Devon’s mother is going to pick her up.”
Duffy watched the girls hug before Trish got into the car. As they drove off he viewed Devon. The girl wore a navy A-line skirt with a pink camisole blouse. The sleeveless blouse revealed the girl’s bare arms. He noticed the panicked expression on the kid’s face. Duffy blinked ‘where is the bracelet? There is no record of another insertion. The auto bracelet was developed by Collins well after the Marsh bracelet turned up missing. That means this kid must have found the bracelet. Is it possible the kid wore the bracelet to end up like this accidentally? Naw!’ Duffy stares lost in thought still watching Devon.
Devon for his part finds himself standing in front of the doctor’s office wearing a skirt with the bracelet in his purse. It took a quick slight of hand to remove the bracelet the second Mrs. Clancy drove away. He expected the clothes would not change like the last two times. He brought a change in his book bag and quickly rushed to a bathroom.
Inside the small compact toilet Devon changes into his boy clothes. To be factual he is wearing girl’s size six jeans and his Pirate shirt. Devon is distressed to once again discover girl’s size six jeans fit his boy body. ‘How can you call this a boy body? Get real, I’m dead.’
It took far less time than he wanted for the receptionists to call his name. Efficient is not what Devon wanted today. ‘It’s better than being late allowing enough time for mom to arrive. She would insists to sit in on the exam. Meaning she will see and ask tough questions in front of the doctor. Shit I’m dead.’
A PA in form of an elderly professional woman took Devon’s blood pressure and checked his weight in this little room. Then she produced a needle causing the boy’s eyes to widen. The woman, who had introduced herself as Bev then spoke. “Dr. Balmgartner requested a blood sample. We have our own lab saving you making an appointment elsewhere.” She produced a sappy smile.
Devon blinked, ‘I bet she enjoys this.’
A few minutes after the woman left the door opened the doctor entered. She is an attractive youthful woman who has a pleasing manner. “Devon James, I am pleased to meet you. I am Jennifer Balmgartner. Your mother wrote me with many questions. Is she here?”
Devon shook his head, “She is at work but should be here by the time we are finished.”
The doctor nodded, “You have a pretty name. Devon is not a common everyday name. It suits a pretty girl. Your mom said you lost a lot of weight over the last ten weeks. Is it true you weighed one-hundred-sixty pounds?” She leans back eying Devon.
The boy nods sheepishly quickly adding, “I gained three inches though. It makes me look thinner.”
Balmgartner laughs, “My dear that may be true but it fails to explain the loss of fifty pounds in ten weeks. I will be blunt, are you purging or taking some kind of drug?”
Nearly panicking, Devon almost screams, “No nothing I swear.”
The doctor’s doubtful expression transmits she might not be accepting his answer. “The blood work will tell us a lot. Tell me about your voice and hair. Your mom says your voice is higher and your hair is many shades lighter. It is very pretty by the way.”
Devon smiles at the compliment. “It has just; well it just gradually started changing. My voice was never really deep but my hair was dark. I like this better.”
A smile is returned by the doctor. “I can see why you would. You are very pretty. I suspect you did not think of yourself as pretty before.” The doctor raises a wry smile knowing her next question is a delicate one. ‘There is no easing into it,’ she thought. “I have one more question. When did you start your period? Your mother did not mention it. The onset of puberty especially the beginning of the menstrual cycle can cause all kind of changes. Nothing quite this drastic though.” The doctor narrows her gaze.
Devon nearly panics hearing the words period and menstruation. ‘Mom would never ask about my period.’ That thought almost caused Devon to laugh. “I have not had a period before.” Is all that he could say? Devon could not engage in a conversation about periods. The poor kid is clueless. ‘Periods were never part of the plan. The girl thing was only to get me through summer classes.’ Poor Devon, it never occurred to him that eight weeks as a girl would likely involve a period or two.
Jennifer Balmgartner heard Devon’s claim and the doctor knows it is not rare that some girls are late getting started. She dismisses any doubts simply requesting Devon undress for an exam. ‘Smallish breasts a little late in developing but they appear well defined and healthy.’ As she progresses the doctor examines Devon’s nether regions. ‘Slow development here as well. Her vagina has a very small opening but nothing to be concerned about. I notice a small stain on her panties as she slid them down. It looks like early spotting. She may get her period today.’ “Devon did you put on clean panties today honey. I am not trying to embarrass you. It is important.
Devon blinks, “Yes I do everyday, why?”
The doctor takes the girl’s hand softly in hers to reassure. Devon visibly relaxes allowing the doctor to continue. “Honey I see signs indicating your first period can happen at any time. It may appear before the day is over. Do you know how to manage it?”
Devon’s eyes betray abject fear, which the doctor picks up on quickly. ‘This poor kid is ready to melt down, go easy Jen.’ She opens a cabinet handing Devon a package of Tampons. The doctor then opens an individual package that sets on the counter. “Let me show you how to use these. Remember always carry a few extras in your purse for emergencies. This nasty visitor can sneak up on you.” After carefully explaining the process, the doctor watches the girl sheepishly put the package into her book bag. The girl’s fear is evident. Jennifer walked Devon to the waiting room hoping to see her mother. “Is your mom here Devon?”
He shook his head no hoping against hope he can get to bathroom before she arrives, hoping the doctor sees another patient quickly.
Jennifer turns to the receptionist, “I’d like to see Devon and her mom in two weeks.” The doctor then turned, “Fred, I can see now.” She squeezed Devon’s hand gently, “Everything is fine sweetie. I will see you on the twenty-third and bring your mom.”
Devon nodded and ran like hell to the ladies room. He quickly put on his bracelet not expecting to see a great change but enough to bring his tiny thing back. ‘She said vagina and gave me Tampons. Holy shit.’ He then watched in horror to see the fourth crystal turn clear. He stared in total disbelief watching the bracelet melt. ‘It is gone! The damn thing melted.’
Devon staggered into the waiting room into the arms of his mother.
“There you are. The nurse told me you went to the bathroom. I have the appointment card you forgot to take it. You should be more careful.” With that mother turned to the receptionist. “Thank you Marcy we will see you in two weeks.” She led Devon out the door as Duffy watched from his car.
Almost home, Joyce spoke to Devon. “I have a surprise for you we have a visitor coming to the house.”
Devon already on edge over the melting bracelet, the package of Tampons and the exam where a doctor mistakenly suggested he is about to begin menstruation is ready to have a nervous breakdown. Now his mother informs him a surprise visitor is about to arrive. He bit his lip, ‘more than one surprise visitor if the doctor is right.’ In full panic, Devon is ready to run knowing he cannot take anymore. All Devon can do is sit there waiting to hear this woman, his mother say she called the asylum. He managed to speak a single word in his defeat, “Who?”
Mrs. James measured her son through glassy eyes. She views a pretty girl two or three inches taller and fifty pounds lighter. If she had not witnessed Devon’s transition over the last ten weeks she would not recognize this pretty girl had they passed on the street. Joyce confronts a combination of rage and denial. She feels a growing need to strike out blaming her child for his deceit. Rejection and blame stir within her until a reminder of the fat tormented boy shows through her glazed vision. The old Devon is revealed sitting across from her. ‘I see Devon’s eyes, I see his fear my poor child appears about to burst.’ Joyce blinks a tear forms leading to another soon generating a moist flow. She catches herself. “Dr. Wilkins is coming for a visit; Miss Murphy may be joining him. It seems they have an offer to present. I believe it is something you will welcome.”
Joyce thought for a moment her words soothed her son as he relaxed. Still fighting her conflicted inner demons Joyce struggled to gain control. What parent would not be confused, angered or terrified to see their child dramatically changed? ‘The signs were there and I ignored them. My son was so tormented he did something to himself and I did nothing.’ That thought suddenly morphed into another. ‘He deliberately lied to the school, lied to his parents while creating an elaborate disguise. He sits there in that stupid Pirate shirt defying me with those fake breasts. You would have thought the kid had enough sense to remove the damn falsies when he was in the bathroom; the defiant little bastard. That doctor must be a complete fool not seeing through his ruse.’ Without warning the woman suddenly broke from her inner rage to face her son displaying a soft unexpected control.
“Dr. Balmgartner’s nurse told me when you came in today you were wearing a pretty outfit and changed in the ladies room. Devon honey, why don’t you put those clothes back on? I’d like to formally meet my daughter.”
Devon is not certain he heard correctly, ‘is she cracking up? This bracelet fantasy has gotten to her as well.’ He did not move too stunned to react. Then he hears the phone ringing but he still does not move. Mother stands reaching for the phone.
Joyce about to answer the ringing interrupts herself, “Devon they are almost here you do not have much time. Please hurry up and change.” She waves him on as she speaks into the landline. “Hello, yes Dr. Balmgartner this is Joyce James.” She covers the phone motioning to a lump sitting on the sofa that has still not moved. She mouths the words, hurry your father will be home soon.
Devon stands, ‘She has lost it. What the hell better now than later. Dad won’t blow up while the professor is here.’ He opened his book bag struggling to change in the living room wanting to hear mother’s conversation. But only one side is revealed to him.
Joyce could be heard speaking to the doctor with a disbelieving edge to her shaking voice. “Nothing is wrong?” A pause precedes her repeating, “Blood pressure is normal, weight within the average range for a girl her height.” Another long pause while she listened at same time staring at Devon. Joyce watches her child struggling try to dress behind the sofa. With eyes making contact locking into Devon she mouths, “GIRL!” It must be her turn to speak again because the phone is pressed to her lips. “No doctor Devon has shown no signs of beginning a period. I certainly would have noticed if SHE had a period. You say expect it any day now!” Her voice is clearly rising at this point. “What! Did I hear you say her vagina opening is rather narrow for a girl her age but you are not concerned? Two weeks, I will be there, thank you doctor.” She hung up ashen not really seeing Devon but managed to blurt, “Devon you have some explaining to do.”
Devon sat on the sofa trembling he at least sat with his knees together. He at least smoothed his skirt under him as he sat. The boy clearly in a daze heard the words about explaining. ‘Too bad I cannot.’ He barely noticed his father close the front door.
Clay walked in as he usually does in a near full sprint. It is his normal attitude when called home early especially when his son’s teacher is coming for a visit. Except, everybody knows teachers do no make home visits. When he saw Devon as he walked past the couch his perception must have been skewed because what he sees is not possible. It is bad enough his wife appears catatonic but Devon is looking stunning in his navy A-line skirt with a pink camisole blouse. Father noticed the prominent bust line for the first time. He did not speak; his thoughts were racing along with his heart rate. He wanted to drop his brief case and run to the fridge. ‘Molsons, I need a Molsons that Iron City won’t do.’ He hears the door bell ring. ‘It is a hell of a time for the professor to come.’
This is the first time in Devon’s life he found both parent’s speechless at the same time. It was a good thing too as they could not possibly contribute to a coherent conversation. Reagan Murphy appeared radiant beaming with pride. She kept saying things like, “You must be so proud. Your daughter is our most brilliant student. We are so happy she will be attending Bryant.”
Devon stares speechless his mind races, ‘now someone uses a pronoun in front of my parents.’
Clay glanced to his wife then back to the professor able to offer appropriate nods. Joyce for her part beamed with pride. At least that is how she presented. Reagan and Wilkins could not possibly know this is the first time the parents saw their daughter. The professor and Reagan could not fathom both parents were in shock. To them the glazed expressions were borne of pride. It is not everyday your child wins a sixty-thousand dollar scholarship.
Wilkins outlined how no student ever offered mathematical capabilities demonstrated by their daughter. He also told of the history professor who could not believe the girl’s grasp of the Constitution. Wilkins slid the paperwork across the coffee table watching Clayton and Joyce sign while nodding to each other. Wilkins congratulated the parents for allowing the Academy to provide the best possible education for their daughter. He had no idea Clayton and Joyce could not read a word of what they were signing.
Reagan hugged Devon promising to see her in the fall term assuring unlimited help. She raised a brow as Clayton nearly choked. He suddenly began a coughing spree causing the professor to consider the Heimlich maneuver. Poor Reagan had no way of knowing her comment to Devon is the cause of the man’s choking. She only said to Devon, “I sense you and Mark Curtis are getting serious.” She noticed Joyce appeared to turn green at that same moment.
Somehow, Devon is lucid enough to thank both for coming and walked them to the door. Devon wanted to follow along behind them; escape is in the forefront of his mind. He found himself sitting on the sofa, hands in his skirted lap facing two blank stares. It will be a long evening.
The new girl faced her parents not certain how to begin. Joyce for her part managed to gather an unsteady control of her emotions. She looked to her husband who obviously is losing it. She held his hand firmly to steady him. Joyce did not wish to see an explosion she knew or could guess the man’s internal thoughts. His gaze is straight ahead locked upon Devon. The stunning girl before him appears almost as shaken as she. Joyce can see the distraught tormented boy who had been friendless and miserable is gone. He is replaced by a brilliant, beautiful daughter who has good friends and a supportive school.
Joyce, now relaxed having realized this is a change for the better wanted to understand it. ‘There is no possible way what sits before us can be reality.’ She turned toward Clayton then back to her daughter. With a gentle voice impossible a half hour earlier she said softly, “Devon honey we are proud of you. Can you tell us how this happened?"
Devon leaned forward palms pressing against her skirted lap. ‘No explosion? I can be thankful for that. Can I explain this? Not without that stupid bracelet.’ He nodded to his parents, “I can try but you won’t believe it.” He began with the day in the ravine. “I picked up this box at the bottom of the ravine. The sun reflecting on it caught my attention.”
Colin Duffy left the parking lot and followed the James’ car to their home. He then drove back to the compound finding it abandoned as he expected. Jake did not lie to him. He discovered all the equipment including the robots was purged. ‘It is an efficient sweep as always.’ He could feel the pressure building in his cyst knowing his time is nearly up. He had nowhere to run and may as well stay here. Duffy entered his small room placing his laptop on a table. ‘My stuff is gone too; they did not miss a thing. I would have enjoyed dealing with Stanfield. The bastard played me. No wonder they did not come after me over the bracelet. They already killed me all they needed was to keep me close.’
He turned on his computer activating the listening device he placed in the James’ living room. Colin listened to the conversation by a frustrated Joyce James and her daughter Devon. He nearly broke out laughing when he saw the expression on Clayton’s face when he walked in the door. ‘Priceless, am I very glad I included a camera.’ After hearing Devon say, I picked up this box at the bottom of the ravine. The sun reflecting on it caught my attention, He relaxed. With a smile on Duffy’s face he spoke aloud though no one heard. “I like that kid. I am relieved to find the bracelet fell into the right hands.”
Colin did learn from Jake the DNA program was terminated. The government believed it did not work. ‘It must be Bailey and Evans did an effective job bleaching their records before the agency closed in on them.’ Duffy knew all the successful insertions were off the record. It appears the government has no idea three people are out there because of the program; ‘three not counting the duplicate in South Hills.’ He could feel the pressure build and closed his eyes.
Mark Curtis walked to Devon’s front door holding his girlfriend’s hands. He turned to face her at the bottom step. Placing a hand on her hip with another on her shoulder he leaned closer. The kiss was warm and tender with both whispering, “I love you,” as they moved from the kiss. The door suddenly opened as Clayton stood facing the pair.
Devon blushed, Mark’s face turned a rosy color and both kids stuttered. Clayton could not demonstrate a rage expected of a parent. Instead he smiled ignoring the kiss he witnessed. “Did you kids have a good time at the ball game? I see the Bucs won again”
Both Devon and Mark giggled while nodding. Mark stepped back turning to face his mother’s car. He wanted to kiss the girl again but knew better. Instead he chirped, “Nice to see you Mr. James. Devon and I had fun but mom is waiting.” He ran off the porch waving to Devon.
She stood there wearing the black and gold shirt with the number 46 giggling. Dad put his hand on her shoulder walking Devon into the house. ‘That was some story Devon came up with last week. It is too bad it’s such bullshit. I can live with it. There is no denying my girl is happy for the first time in her life.’
Colin Duffy felt a sharp blow to his face. It startled him awake but he could not see anything. His eyes were bandaged shut. ‘What the hell?’ Someone with rough hands is unraveling the tape or whatever it is. When his vision cleared whoever is here is behind him. “Don’t turn around,” said a familiar voice. He could see an elaborate bedroom with a view of a sea, or ocean. Duffy is lying in a large bed and not a cheap motel bed at that. The man walked into his view, it is Jake.
“I regret to inform you that Colin Duffy is dead. They found the poor bastard’s body in a compound somewhere in western PA. It seems an unidentified toxin caused irreparable harm. Unfortunately, there is no death report or newspaper story. It seems the government considers this to be a national security concern.”
Duffy sat up, “What the hell are you saying?” He noticed his voice is different. “What happened?”
Jake, now sitting in a chair with a broad smile shakes his head. “I have no idea. Trying to piece together events, the best I can come up with is a guess. It seems some agent from an unnamed government entity followed Duffy to the compound. When Mr. Duffy blacked out the misguided agent slapped on one of Bob Collins’ modified bracelets. I can’t imagine who could have done it but someone inserted Colin Duffy’s DNA. Modified of course we can’t have someone fitting Duffy’s appearance wandering around. The best I can figure this new persona is Named Andrew MacHenry. He looks somewhat like Duffy except he has the ruddy Scottish complexion. MacHenry owns a villa of the coast of Spain.”
Duffy’s eyes widen staring at Jake. “This is nuts.”
Jake brushes a hair from his brow. “I thought so too, who could believe such a ridiculous tale? There is another amazing coincidence. MacHenry is the owner of that Villa some guy named Bailey bought with government money. Bailey simply disappeared and MacHenry scarfed it up on the cheap though, MacHenry has no money worries. He is a Scot after all. What do you think Andrew do you like my story?”
Duffy, now standing is speechless, well almost. “How in the hell did you pull this off?”
“Sit down Andrew this is going to take awhile. Did I tell you that you must seek another job? There are no openings in the agency and they only hire Americans.”
Devon and her father waved to Mark as he drove off with his mother. Clayton hugged his daughter. “Mark is a nice boy. Mom will have dinner ready in a few. Why don’t you go up and change? I will call you when it is ready.”
Clayton turned on the TV while Joyce finished up in the kitchen. The door bell rang. Clayton could see a teenaged boy he did not know standing there. ’It must be a friend of Devon’s, he thought.’ He opens the door about to call his son when the boy hands him a thick envelope then turns to leave. There is nothing written other than his name and as he looks up the kid as already reached the side walk. “Hold up kid,” Mr. James yells.
The boy stops turning to face him, “I have to go what do you want?” The kid responded as he appears ready to resume flight.
“Where did you get this? There is no return name or address on here, is this a joke? If it is it’s a bad one.” Clay stares at the boy thinking he looks familiar. “Aren’t you Freddie Miller?”
Freddie nods taking a breath, “Yeah I am what of it? All I know is this mechanic gave me ten bucks to deliver this to you. He asked me if I knew you by sight saying not to give it to anyone else. The guy sat over there in a tow truck. It was marked Packard’s Garage. The guy watched me hand it too you then drove off. I thought he must have worked on you car.”
Clayton looked down at the thick manila envelope then back to Freddie. “Yeah I did see a tow truck, thanks kid.” Freddie ran off as Clay walked inside. He sat on the couch not listening to the sounds from the kitchen musing, ‘who in hell is Packard‘s Garage. Why no return name or address?’ He shrugged opening the envelope and began reading the note taped to a thin electronic tablet. Play the video with Devon present. The WMA files will self destruct after the first viewing. This is no joke. ’No joke my ass; some clown watched too many episodes of Mission Impossible.’ The man nearly exploded. “Joyce, Devon get in here now.”
They both came running in full panic neither had heard an explosion from dad since that day two weeks ago on the couch. “What is it?” They both hissed at the same time.
All three sat on the sofa staring at the tablet while Clayton pushed play. A bracelet could be seen on a table. Devon’s eyes widened recognizing his bracelet. “That’s it” the new girl almost yells. The bracelet I told you about.”
The family listened still glued to a view of the bracelet the camera appeared fixed upon. A man’s gravelly voice began to speak disguised sounding like they do when news videos are protecting identities. “I trust you gathered Devon and Joyce Mr. James. You can view this one time as my encryption will destroy the file you are viewing after the first play. It is important Devon sees this. Yes just like mission Impossible.”
The voice began while the view never left the bracelet on the table. “Mr. James, allow me to introduce myself. I was Colin Duffy a CIA agent. If you are watching this I am dead now. There is a reason for this method of contact and the destruction of this file. It is for your safety they cannot hurt me now. This bracelet was stolen from a government laboratory by a secret agent. Devon, each crystal blinked out once it had completed injecting one fourth of the inserted DNA. You had no way of knowing this. As long as some crystals were still emitting light it was possible to create the illusion you were a duplicate of the DNA donor. In other words you were identical to that person until you removed the bracelet. Once the fourth light expired the transition was completed. You became a duplicate of the donor. There was no going back to your old self. Devon, I am sorry for the anguish this put you through. I was assigned to find the bracelet as others were misusing it selling them to rich people. You can guess why they wanted it.’
Mr. James pauses the video staring at his wife and daughter. Devon appears relaxed happy to learn her parents finally believe her. The video continues, “There appears to be more.” Clay nearly whispers.
The gravelly voice begins speaking again over a steady view of the bracelet after Mr. James pushed play. “The DNA is from a seventeen year old girl who lives far from you. I will not divulge her name as the agency is unaware of her. You can relax as they are unaware of you as well. Like I already said, by the time you see this I will be dead. You will not read of the death of Colin Duffy. The government has spent weeks covering this up destroying documents and burying the conspirators. I was relieved to discover those who stole the bracelet lost it in transit because a boy stumbled into that ravine. When I made the discovery I knew it was too late for me. When I learned who you are the bracelet had already melted. Yes, Devon the bracelet was supposed to melt when it completed its job. It was the day you were at the doctor’s office. I was too late to save you. Then I learned more about you to discover you benefited from this transition. I am relieved to learn a deserving kid’s life is improved. For your sanity I must reveal top secret information. This is the reason for this video. I do not need to tell you if the government stumbles upon this information what may happen. Destroy this tablet don’t trust the designed erasure of the file. Do it at once, in the next five minutes. The enclosed check comes from a safe source not connected to the government and is tax free. You will find Devon’s birth records were changed reflecting female status. I can’t imagine how an ordinary citizen could manage to convince the idiots in the record office of Devon’s new status. Don’t ask how I corrected the records. The documents are included. I am happy to know my death was not in vain as a lovely girl benefited. Consider this a gift from your friendly neighborhood CIA.”
Clayton sits back. “Joyce that story Devon told is true every word. I will do as the man said and destroy this tablet at once.”
Joyce and Devon hear what father said then focused on the other. They turned stunned in unison they said, “Check?”
Clayton smiles holding a Bank of Scotland cashiers check. “It says pay to Devon James Five Million Pounds. It is signed Andrew MacHenry.”
“Devon,” Mom begins, “That is going into a trust fun you won’t be spending it on clothes.”
Clayton stares at the check, “Pounds, that means it is close to eight million dollars.”
The girl, eyes wide opened says, “Clothes no, a car is more likely.”
Once the tablet melted nothing more was ever spoken about Colin Duffy or Andrew MacHenry. Several years later MacHenry watched from the back of the auditorium as Devon James walked the stage accepting her bachelors degree. He smiled thinking. ‘I am proud Devon and Erin did well. Both my girls are happy and safe. Colin’s sacrifice is worth the costs.’
Rights reserved by author, permission granted to Big Closet
This adventure is another dive into unreality where we examine the events effecting two primary characters. The point of view is through the first person view of these characters. We have Andrew Lyons a seventeen year old male high school honors student in his senior year. His associate is also a seventeen years old. She is female high school honors senior named Jean Phillips. The two are the major players who tell you their stories. They are not alone. A narrator used sparingly fills in the gaps. The narrator expresses his distaste of being forced to participate by reading this story. There is always a critic. This adventure carries with it a warning. Characters are prone to swear on occasion. There is one section in chapter two where a sexual encounter is described (gently) and in chapter six the threat or attempt of rape is discussed. It is light regarding the graphical description of rape but heavy in the terror aspect.
The tale is complete filling eight chapters of equal size. It is approximately the same length as “Bracelets” my story of a few months back. 50,662 words total. Each chapter is about 6300 words and will appear every four or five days. Depending on how long it takes to complete a final edit prior to listing. Serious comments about the direction of this story may be incorporated or included as last minute changes if the ideas offered work with what the author has in mind.
Andrew Lyons: Beginnings to Early October
Essentially my story is coming to a conclusion. My reckless adventure landed me in a place I could not possibly predict. Either my life as I’ve known it is over or it’s at a new beginning. Whatever; shit, I’ve been saying that word more and more, it is upsetting shaking me at my core. I have to stop this; I’m getting strange glances every time I say it. Oh well, recently I learned something most people know or should know. Never, ever open spam mail. The beginning is the best place to start as they say. I’ve been trained to excuse every act as we are not responsible for what we do. It is always somebody else’s fault. My parents refined deflecting into an art form. It is the primary reason they are in jail never to see the light of day. Most likely the reason my last month or so created so much confusion and turmoil. It is like I’d been swimming through a fog.
It all began on a late dark stormy night as all good horror stories have their beginnings. Mom and dad Lyons were, no are what is known as Grifters. They never earned an honest buck in their sorry lives. Recent results verify they were less than perfect at their craft. I do not remember a day of my life when we were not on welfare. It’s not all bad we did have good days like the time dad got me this nifty laptop from Walmart. Some poor sap bought a new machine and somehow dad distracted him while mom liberated the computer. It is one of his specialties otherwise known as the bait and switch. Dad ran on about extended warrantees while wearing one of those nifty blue Walmart vest. During the process mom lifted the mark’s full Toshiba box from his cart. She exchanged it for an empty one. While dad is talking he substituted the sales slip the mark had for a bogus one of dad’s own. They merrily walked out of Walmart with a new laptop complete with sales slip. That was the last birthday present I ever received. It was my seventeenth before beginning senior year. Oh, when was that? My birthday was back in the spring. It seems as if it’s a lifetime ago.
Somewhere in early October the cops raided our house cleaning out almost everything except my hot laptop. I’m a private type guy with hundreds of secret places hidden around the house. I learned long ago not to trust anyone. That is why my computer was hidden so well. The good news from all of this is mom was at least looking out for me. She did on some level because they’d never involved me in any of their scams, except once or twice. It pissed dad off because he believed he should teach his son a trade. Grifting is all either of them knew.
Those are the last words you will hear about my parents, because their behavior caused me to pay the price. Even though they let me play sometimes they were never caught when I was part of their game. Out of loyalty I could or would not testify against them. My Initial reaction had been they will be out soon, they always were. I can take care of myself in the meantime. As happy as I was to be left alone a nasty missive quickly slapped me in the face. Remember I mentioned the welfare? If you are not familiar with that dysfunctional cabal consider yourself fortunate. No sooner were my parents hauled off to a state run residence the welfare sent a case closing notice. They will cut off rent payments at the end of the month. Without resources this sweet gig will not last long. I can expect to be homeless come November 1.
Slinging burgers for minimum wage will provide spending money. It sure as hell won’t pay the rent. Being a realest I packed up my most valuable belongings which is not much expecting to become homeless. Mom and dad taught me pack light and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. I never counted on the next assault from the welfare. When will these fools ever learn to leave well enough alone? They just got out from under one thousand per month cash payments and five hundred in food stamps. They closed the free health care as well. No more Medicaid, like it matters. There is not a single doctor in town who will accept that garbage plan. I should have been angry over my parents leaving me high and dry. I hadn’t even begun flipping burgers and already learned a valuable lesson. The welfare gig pays a lot better for nothing. Like I said social services can never leave well enough alone.
Here I am almost at the end of the month meaning there will be no checks, no food stamps and no clue. Then the blue mini van shows up at school coming to the rescue. Within a hundred feet of my school stoners hide in an alley, drug dealers conduct business in dark corners. Pimps hustle their terrified sister and misguided brothers for that matter. None of that goes on in my school. The halls are patrolled by nuns with big blackboard pokers. These fools at the cop shop and welfare are blind to serious shit going down all around them. What do they do? They come to get me a straight A student with no disciplinary issues while walking right past the miscreants invisible to them. I worked hard at being invisible and thought I had honed my craft. I found out otherwise when Miss Nigel showed up. I saw a woman leaving no doubt why at fifty she is still a miss or is it mess? She stands five foot nothing weighting two hundred plus pounds leaning on a cane to prop herself up. She even has a handicapped sticker on her van. She hustled me out of school in front of everybody. It was so embarrassing to be forced to sit in the back of a blue mini van while every preppy gawked. The only thing she did not do was drag me out by the ears. That act is reserved to the nuns.
I did laugh when I saw the driver’s seat pop a spring as her fat ass landed on it. How in the hell can somebody in that condition tell me I am in need of help? Anyway she drags me into Family Court because of some stupid child protection crap. They had it all worked out I’m to be shipped off to a foster home with a dozen other kids crammed into a shoe horn. That is until the fools gave me a lawyer. The guy tells me he is my law guardian. He is going to protect my rights. So somebody finally figured out I have rights. The almost a lawyer is about to ship me off and collect his fee to be done with it.
What I did not know at the time is these family court law guardians work on the Hey You schedule. That is why none of them walk down the hall passing the judge’s office when on their own time. Because they are lawyers the county requires them to serve as law guardians for kids like me. The problem is they do not get paid. It is their duty to the county bar. There is also no schedule meaning everybody hauled into court for day has to be there at nine am. You sit in a waiting room with every other victim until the judge decides on hearing your case. The bottom line is Mister Law Guardian may get stuck hanging around all day getting paid zip. The way it works is the judge tries to cut deals calling in the lawyer, welfare worker and a probation officer. They cut a deal and the case goes away. No deal and you wait longer. What lawyer is not going to cut a deal so he can get the hell out of there to make real money?
The lawyer, I forget his name it does not matter what he is called. For crying out loud I’d have been better off with Danny Devito. Anyway the sleazy cheap suit tells me it will all work out not to worry he is going to cut a deal with the judge. I trust him like a shark or somebody in my father’s business. I dig out a quarter to call the school to talk to Sister Martha my counselor. I tell her where I am hoping she can put in a good word for me.
In the meantime they worked out a deal where I’d cop a plea to being destitute and guilty of having jailed parents or something. Deal making took place in the judge’s chambers. Talk about politicians in smoke filled rooms. They would not let me in the meeting because only interested parties are admitted to chambers. I heard the CPS flunky say “It is on a need to know basis.” Like I don’t need to know what they have planned for me. All smug and self righteous they file in the court room as I’m sitting there with the bailiff. When my lawyer drops into a chair next to me saying everything worked out. It is good to know my lawyer is protecting my rights by agreeing to everything these guys these guys want. It does not take the brightest bulb to figure out the guy in the cheap suit is only interested in making this go away so he can move onto the next sad sack.
Then it all went bad. Bad for do gooders incorporated. The judge asked if I had any questions before I became a ward of the state. I only had one. I live in not the best of neighborhoods so I hear these kids talking. I learned long ago what the important questions are. The judge is ready to pound the gavel, unless that’s only done on TV for dramatic moments, when he made his inquiry. No one had given me any say or shown interest about what I thought. The judge must be required to get me on the record to make this scam look good. Most kids would freak out or just nod trying to fade into the woodwork.
“Yes your honor I have a question sir.” He smiled while raising his brows. I told you I was a straight A student. “You can call Sister Martha at St Michaels she will verify. She is my counselor and is waiting for your call.” Straight A students know you suck up to judges and apply groveling when needed. I learned the last from my father the failed Grifter. While he is thinking about making that call, his doubtful expression suggest he might not I threw out my second question. “I understand foster Care stops at age sixteen, your honor.”
Judge Olson peered over his glasses gazing down from his perch nodding. He appeared to be deep in thought. Long silent moments of pondering are something they teach in Judge School. “Yes son a child can only be placed in foster care after they turn sixteen on a voluntarily basis. As you probably know we can’t require children to attend school once they reach sixteen. You will have to go to school and reside in Foster Care until then. When do you turn sixteen?”
I smiled humbly answering with my best Parochial School voice like this guy was Sister Pious. “Last year sir I am a senior honors student at St. Michaels. I will be eighteen this coming spring.”
The temperature in the room dropped fifty degrees it could have snowed in here. Now the judge is dialing the phone. “Sister Martha please,” a pause, “Sister Martha, this is Judge Maurice Olson at Family Court. I understand you have a student named Andrew Lyons. You do, uh huh. You don’t say, straight A’s, no discipline issues, ever?” Another pause while rubbing his chin, sister must be giving him an earful. “Really, likely valedictorian. Thank you sister could you forward his latest report card? Certainly sister I understand.”
I really wanted to laugh when the judge’s icy stare focused on Miss Niger. “Ms Niger did you take even a cursory glance at this lad’s grades? Did you happen to notice or catch a hint of what is written on his birth certificate? While I am at it Counselor Brown did you question any of this?”
Stone silence, excuses and backtracking followed. I had no idea the tremendous backlog that exists at the welfare office or how over worked underpaid lawyers are. I will cross them off my list of career choices. The judge now in possession of those two documents asks me another question.
“I see your parents are in prison. How do you support yourself and is your tuition paid?”
“Well your honor until the end of this month we have Aid to Dependent Children but the letter came canceling it. Would you like to see it? November first will end any welfare checks so regarding income my answer will have to be no. Yes my parents paid tuition for the full year before the beginning of school. I will get a job at Burger king so I can pay the rent. All the landlord is interested in is prompt payment.”
The Judge, I forget his name looked coldly at the fat woman. “You know what this means. Under regulation 682.4 and point 5,” his voice rose when he said point five. Point five must be a whopper. “The agency is required to continue rent payments as long as this lad attends school. The state placed his parents in jail while the child is a recipient of AFDC. His record indicates he is attending school everyday. I am issuing an order that the agency continue payments as they are until the end of the school year. Miss Nigel please refrain from wasting the courts time in the future. The case against Andrew Lyons is dismissed. Keep up the good work son. Andrew your Sister Martha is quite a stickler for the rules. Would you do me a favor? Sign a release so Sister Martha can send me a copy of your transcript. It might be a good idea if you need a representative in court to ask her.”
Keep up the good work, yeah right. In other words keep your head down and don’t make waves. Sure I will sign that thing for the judge. I don’t want to piss him off. Like I said it is always a good move to keep the judge happy. The landlord is happy. He does not have to close the place up and lose a month or two of rent. The joint won’t be empty and his direct payments will keep coming in without problems. The Welfare had to do that because the old man was always trying to make a big score. Paying the rent was never high on the list. After years of welfare, second generation I think, the agency knew enough to deduct rent and power bills from his allowance. They got tired of evictions and fuel emergencies a long time ago.
With the promise of no parties, rent paid on time; keep the place clean and no cops I get to stay right here. Not bad it is a three bedroom single story ranch one of those popular designs from the seventies or so. Decent sized yard with a garage. No car but a garage to keep my bike in if I had one. I do have the internet though but no cell phone.
No parties the man said. Geeze really! Don’t you need friends to have parties? On second thought what you do need is a teenager with a house of his own and no supervision. I am not going to go there. My old man did not raise a fool. I know when I am in the cat bird seat and this is it. Scratch the friends or users I don’t need them. I got this far on my own I’m not going to change it now. You should be able to tell I’m one of those people who are excluded. I am going through life as an observer untouched and ignored. My philosophy is if you don’t let them in they can’t hurt you. You might have gotten a hint of this attitude when discovering it took me until the third page to mention my name. This is another fine point for those of you who go through life unmolested by social services. After court Ms Niger could not give me a ride home. It seems she is only allowed to drive active victims err clients. I guess since she dragged me out of school and blew the case I’m no longer a child in need. It is comforting to know they are so caring.
I’m not exactly home free I now have Ms Bishop keeping tabs on me. The good news is this woman has a hundred and twenty families to harass. She is one of a dozen county Income Maintenance workers. It is her job to make sure I’m following the rules. To think my parents are in jail for being Grifters while this sorry excuse of a president isn’t. Look at what the guy did. He creates jobs by hiring more welfare workers to keep track of all the people forced on welfare because he screwed up the economy. It is an excellent way to control everything. He watches the watchers who report what everybody is doing. You don’t think that is a major con? The guy has total control by threatening to cut off your free money. The message is be good, shut up and stay in your place. Every six months Ms Bishop wearing her cheap pants suit stops by to check up on me. That is not a certainty I have to wait five more months to see if she remembers. At least thanks to the ACLU they stopped unreasonable demands like making me quit school and document employment searches. Nobody comes around checking up complaining about dirty dishes in the sink. But they still know how to make trouble.
Back at school, well it was the next day without anyone knowing I was not here the day before. I must admit the nuns love me. I clean up well, do my work, keep my mouth shut and don’t make a mess. For the record I am about five feet seven inches solid built without flab or zits. There is little to make fun of it goes hand in hand with my lack of anything to take a second look at either. Girls, yeah I love them every curve and short skirt about them. I can sit admiring their cute little walk and the way they wear their hair. I love everything about them. The problem is they can’t see me. It is not that they dislike me or find me repulsive they just don’t notice me. As far as guys go last year one of them talked to me once or twice but he transferred out.
I have my own lunch table with plenty of privacy except when the janitor takes pity stopping to chat. Well enough of this you get the picture and can see why I stepped into it when that freaking spam invitation ended up in my mail box. For someone who watches like that Percy guy in the movie “Being There” the temptation is simply too great. That is why I am writing this to warn people to stay away from spam mail. It is the Grifter’s greatest friend.
We entered the later half of October with my private battle lines drawn. It is my intention to score the valedictorian award as it is my best avenue to get into college. There are a few competitors, a jock named Pedro Roman. I know before you go there jock and intelligent is the definition of oxymoron. The other is a girl named Jean Phillips also known as ‘Parker.’ Let me explain she lives in a trailer park hence the cruel nickname of ‘Parker’. I cannot verify it is a trailer park I never followed her home. For the record I am not a sicko stalker.
Here is where I place my disclaimer I’m madly in love with Jean Phillips and conflicted about beating her out of the award. The kid has less than I do and needs a scholarship. I’m a realists and self comes first my parents taught me that. Jean has less friends than I do, that is not possible I have no friends. I guess we are tied then Phillips zero, Lyons zero. I will say more about my dream girl later.
Another down side of this is I have to do my own laundry. Fortunately Saint Michaels does not require uniforms saving me a load of work. So I’m sorting whites from colors my briefs and socks in one pile. I throw my jeans and tees in another. What is this? I interrupt my self startled to find something I wanted to forget. Oh, well I might as well tell you it is this lot that gets me in trouble. Bear with me I’m reading the labels here because I am clueless about this crap. There is a Royal Robbins Promenade skirt. You heard me right a skirt. According to mom it is made of lightweight, wrinkle resistant Marori Poplin. It will keep me looking great all summer long. They gave the color a great name, Soapstone. What kind of a name is that? Actually it is a light tan or cream.
The skirt is described as a practical, but fun option that's ready for any warm weather outing, It is made of lightweight, wrinkle resistant Marori Poplin to keep you looking great all summer long. I think I said that already. It is because I am focusing. If I keep talking I will forget I have no idea what Marori Poplin is and I need to find out. So hold on a minute.
Okay I’m back. I had to Google Marori Poplin simply because every girl is required to know this stuff. Well aren’t they? According to the description I found Marori Poplin is a type of weave that is a synergistic blend of cotton and nylon. It is soft, breathable, quick drying and wrinkle resistant. See now I can offer a coherent answer when asked about my skirt. My Grifter parents taught me the art of sarcasm in case you misinterpreted my tone.
Mom and dad dreamed up a bait and switch requiring a mother and daughter. Guess who got to play the daughter wigs and all? Before you ask I have a set including matching blouse and shoes. The blouse goes with my modest knee length soapstone skirt. I’m a Catholic girl remember? The blouse, right it is turquoise. Before you worry about it clashing, never fear the blouse leans more to the blue than green. According to more information on the tag it’s a polyester jersey camisole style blouse making layering easy with its four way stretch, adjustable spaghetti straps and built in shelf bra. I almost forgot they went all out to include an A cup set of lifelike bra fillers. I can only guess a shelf bra is supposed to makes things look bigger by holding them up. That’s what a shelf does right?
The designer went to great trouble identifying this garment as a blouse to my great relief. I always thought a camisole was underwear. No way will this kid ever wear girl’s underwear. I can justify a blouse because that’s simply a fancy name for a shirt. You witnessed another of my issues just now. I get distracted by over explaining everything. Where was I? Oh yeah I tossed those into the second pile with the jeans and hung up the other girly out fit. You may as well hear about it to save time later. It is what I wore after I responded to the spam. Not that I wanted to, they forced me into it.
You have to love the name these clowns gave this skirt. According to the sales blurb it is great for jaunts to town. Not that I’d ever do that. I got side tracked forgetting to tell you the name. They called it Horny Toad's Sidekick skirt. Not that I’d date a horny toad. Girls described as toads are not high on my list. Anyway it is made with quick-drying, stretchy and durable fabric to keep up with my active lifestyle. The skirt feels like one of those sexy materials guys like to touch. The label says quick drying, stretchy and durable organic cotton polyester fabric. Let’s not forget the color. They call this one, oatmeal it pretty much describes it. What I really like about this one is it has slant hand pockets with welt back pockets offering a classic fit. You wear it just below the waist. Before I forget it shows your knees plus two inches above.
It looks like October is drawing to a close I’m going to need a pair of tights. What, before you make assumptions I not going weird here. Tights are needed since all that skin is exposed that’s all. It is crowding November here meaning cold. I’m not exposing my legs to the November wind and rain. I need to find a color to go with the blouse. Mom thought this outfit would be great on the weekends. I don’t know what she had planned but she mentioned wearing it in the backyard. They must have had another scam in the works. I’m procrastinating, how many guys talk about wearing something described like this? Well no guy I want to meet, now if it is his sister you bet. It is lightweight 3.8 oz. cotton jersey knit and comfortable V-neck Carhartt tank top. Guaranteed to keep you cool, casual and let you show off those arms. I love the color, Petal Pink. Could you tell this is more sarcasm?
Did you ever hear of Jack Rogers' shoes? I hadn’t my shoe knowledge is limited to Nikes. Well Jack Rogers is one pair mom bought me. I don’t have the time or the desire to Google Jack Rogers. If you want to know do it yourself. The box says they are pretty, feminine silhouettes of slim flats sports medallion style. They detail in the form of swirling rondelles and whipstiching combined with its solid color leather, it's a textural masterpiece. The color of the shoes is a dull gold. Does anybody understand the meaning of what I just read from the label? Seriously, is this a central focus of a girl’s life? Is knowing this crap essential to navigate the halls wearing just the right thing? If I ever get the courage to speak to Jean this is a necessary question. I have not exchanged a single word with her in four years. It is not like I will ever find out.
I don’t want to bore you but I discovered rondelles are a flat bead, often of rock crystal or onyx. So that explains those sparkly things. The whipstiching bullshit is nothing more than an attempt to impress you with naming a fancy stitch. Wow I bet these things set them back plenty. They sure as hell will look great with my soapstone skirt. I’m beginning to figure out why mom and dad were always late with rent payments. The next pair of shoes costs over a hundred bucks on sale.
They are called Mary Janes. But the over priced fashion company had to lay it on thick. Here is what they had to say. Blending the cute, girly style of a Mary Jane with a chic, stylish, cork wrapped wedge heel the Teva's Riviera Wedge Mary Jane shoes offer a versatile, urban style you'll love with the wear all day comfort of a sculpted leather foot bed. They are fitted with a leather and textile upper and a hook and look asymmetric strap wraps over the top of the foot. The shoes feature cork wrapped wedge midsole and heel with a Durabrasion rubber outsole. You have to be impressed with that ensemble. I’m glad I am not a girl. Give me my jeans, tees and sneakers. I’m just a simple man without any need to fill my empty head with information this detailed.
To top all of that off they sprung for real hair wigs in two styles. One is a chestnut color something close to an early Meg Ryan hair style. The other is a honey blond style that brings Reese Witherspoon to mind. I would not be wasting your time with this if it were not relevant to my tale of woe. The spam company made me do it. It sounds like an excuse they came up with in government school because it is always somebody else’s fault. Okay it is my fault because I am impatient, curious and could not wait to try out my free fun week end. That is what the spam called it anyway.
I will give these hucksters credit they are good when it comes to timing. The spammer arrived in my G-mail on Saturday. It promised to provide a free weekend of adventure giving you an enhanced version of yourself. All you needed to do is be sure a real life avatar is in your e-mail user account. This free one year pass is valued at $10,000 with minimal obligation. All I have to do is write a five page description of my weekend for them to post on their website. I should have known this is too good to be true. I won when I never entered. I told you my parents are Grifters and they trained me in the art. You know what they say, you can’t kid a kidder. Oh yes you can because we grifters are too smart to be caught in someone else’s game. So we tell ourselves making us easy targets. Anyone who watched the old TV show Mission Impossible knows that. I don’t mean the lame movies either those pathetic things were terrible.
The deal is weekends are afforded only no mid week adventures are offered. Registration must be made in person on Fridays between five and seven pm. sending the spam to me on Saturday makes me wait a whole week. Even worse I cannot register until next Friday meaning I do not get full details until then. Go figure, it is like receiving threatening letters from bill collectors Saturday morning whose office is closed weekends. So you get to stew for three days. I bet they time those assaults on purpose. I told you I’m a grifter I know how e-mail works. If you believe G-Mail keeps your data secret then you likely swallow the crap coming from the white house these days.
I told G-mail my name is Andréa Judd an eighteen year old female. That is all the data I gave them. I doubted these guys from the day they admitted they got all that personal info by accident. The Street View bullshit comes to mind. They got the stuff by accident and are keeping it at server farms because why, they don’t want it? Please anyone dumb enough to swallow that is what grifters call a mark. Now my Ms. Andréa Judd wins a prize when only G-mail has this name and e-mail address, some coincidence.
I discovered when wearing my Horny Toad's Sidekick skirt, V-neck Carhartt tank top in petal Pink and those Teva Riviera wedge Mary Jane shoes I looked hot. Especially when adding a pair of sheer black tights and the Meg Ryan wig. I looked in the mirror and almost passed out. If the hair color were more brown I could be Jean Phillips’ twin. Using Jean’s photo for my Andréa avatar might have been a dumb move. That is how I appeared with my coupon on that fateful Friday promptly at five pm.
My dear reader you noticed I said Friday is a week away and suddenly I jump right to Friday. It is a courtesy I extend to you avoiding describing my boring week. Classes were the same as always with nothing happening. I sat three seats away from Jean Phillips staring and drooling only to be ignored. How much of that can you take? To spare you I jumped to Friday night a week in the future.
You have to see this place to believe it. I spent ten bucks on a cab because as I said there is no car in my garage and I do not own a bike. Really can you imaging an upscale seventeen year old girl who appears to be twenty-two riding a bike? For that matter considering my outfit, can you imagine such a girl walking that far? If she did not get grabbed of by a perv trolling some other not so fun fate would strike.
The house looking ever so like something out of a bad Steven King movie has a simple board sign out front. It read Sanctuary and I swear those shuttered windows would scare Eddy Munster. I bravely walked up the creaking steps to the porch when an eerie Eastern European voice bid me welcome. The door knocker shaped like a wolf’s head made a loud whacking sound. At least it did not howl. Perhaps it did at one time and is the reason they now have to give out freebies.
A thick carpeted entry room with a tall butler type behind the desk eased the fear factor. He smiled and groveled the way they do in those British films. The guy looked like David Niven. I presented my coupon to receive a pile of forms or rather disclaimers. You could only interpret one of every dozen words or so encouraging you to skim and sign, which I did to my regret. How many times must we be told you have to read bill before signing it? Like Nancy I signed it to find out what is in it later. That was an expensive mistake worse than any made by congress. Though I suspect many of you readers would break your neck getting here when you find out what happened to me.
I turned in my signed forms all fifteen of them to receive a plastic swipe card. Bela Lugosi or a close cousin led me down a hallway to the sign in terminal. He explained for this weekend there are four options. The offered choices are Romance, Ski Resort, The Spa or Relaxing Weekend. Romance requires legal ID as it is X-rated you must be 21. Then his eyes drank me in, drank is a kind word for how he looked. He sort of hinted the other three activities offer many opportunities to take advantage of romance. He did not have to say more than that, I got his meaning.
A brochure accompanies the welcome information with a warning. When you swipe your card the scanner verifies your identity, your e-mail avatar comparing both to your body scan. When that information is processed you are to step into a containment chamber where the scanner will make adjustments. There is a little hint, hint at the bottom warning customers the process cannot make radical adjustments. If the customer is really a four by four they cannot make you look like Brad Pitt or your favorite actress.
It went on to say expect ladies to appear a little softer with sharp edges smoothed out to present a more feminine affect. It advised there will be no sexual enhancements such as larger breasts and the like. Your natural beauty will slightly modify. The enhancements should fade slowly over time. However with repeated use of our system they could become permanent. For males the same is true except modifications tend to the ripped side. Men were warned not to expect bigger well you know. Once the scanners have completed their work a door will open allowing admittance to the vacation of your choice. Themes change from time to time please sample as many as you like but only one selection is allowed per weekend. Enjoy your stay.
Okay I have been warned and am growing concerned because a number of guys are standing about looking at me like that. I hurry exiting the place conflicted about showing up as Andi Judd tomorrow at eight AM. I am also growing concerned because my clothes feel fabulous. The pink top brings out the deep blue of my eyes. I wore tiny maple leaf shaped gold earrings that shimmer adding a sparkle to my hair.
My old man thinks he is really the sharpest tool in the shed. He does not know I found his tackle box. The one he buried behind a false wall in the cellar. I’m pretty certain he is counting on this for his retirement when he gets out in twenty years. There is close to a hundred grand in small bills neatly packaged in bound stacks. I discovered the stash some time ago and have zero guilt in liberating a few grand. He left his kid high and dry with no support. At least he thought he did. His kid has a need so a short trip to the used car lot satisfied my handicap. I now am the proud owned of a Volkswagen Beetle. Do you note there is a bit of irony here? Back in the day every college girl seemed to own of these rigs. Everybody thought it looked cool to see a short skirt working a stick shift. When I saw the car I balked thinking no, it’s not a car for a cool guy. When I saw the price an image appeared in my rear view mirror. You can just envision Andi sporting around town wearing her wrinkle resistant Marori Poplin soapstone skirt. I think I need to pick up a set of tennis whites.
I did not wear that outfit when I went to buy the car. Just to be clear I’m not interested in appearing in public like some kind of fruit. With the car safely tucked into my garage, my garage what a hoot mom and dad must be sitting in their cells worried about how their kid is making out. Yeah right, I’m sure they are. So the clothes are laid out on a chair at the foot of my bed.
It is nearly ten pm on this Friday night as I sit here pondering the stupidity I have planned for tomorrow. Do I even dare wear these ridiculous clothes? I even let my fingers splay over the sensual material of those Hanes silky nylon briefs. The Bali bra is hanging over the back of the chair. I already tried the forms mom bought for me to ensure they fit. A little medical glue and that strange garment should bring the desired effect.
My resistance is wearing down. I’m certain my disguise will present a credible likeness of my dream girl. The question is will anyone buy it? I finally cave doing something I can’t admit to myself I’ve been dying to try. It took awhile but I’m decked out in my Jean Phillips clothes ready to gaze into the mirror. There stood Andi Judd. “Holy shit it is Jean.” Then I passed out.
Next Week Chapter 2 Jean Phillips: Dealing with it
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In our second entry we learn about a second character central to this adventure. The protagonists offer their own point of view revealing what they will of themselves. Here you discover Jean's view of her world allowing a glimpse of what makes her tick.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Jean Phillips. I am a high school senior at Saint Michaels a serious Catholic school demanding excellence. The nuns give no quarter and in their mind any grade lower than a B is failure. At least this part of my life in this hell hole is has gotten better. It is everything leading up to it that sucks. After four years of being condemned, insulted and treated as a social leper is now reduced to isolation. Isolation is a victory one leading to my success. I am on track to win the valedictorian award punching my ticket for scholarships and acceptance to an A college. The only things standing in my way are two guys. One a jock named Pedro Roman and the other a nobody known as Andrew Lyons.
I hate jocks almost as much as I hate the mean girls. You know the ones I’m talking about. They parade around in their designer clothes flaunting both their looks and wealth. Each of them has a gathering of drooling fools trailing behind. Most of those followers are horny cave men. They are guys like Pedro who runs around wearing gym shorts bouncing a basketball saying enlightening things like dude or you know twelve times in each paragraph. Pedro is the exception, not only is he cute he is really, really smart. He is also an asshole who is in love with himself. The remaining followers consist of a gaggle of pretty girls who know they are and believe everyone else adores them.
The other roadblock I mentioned is the opposite of Pedro. You take Lyons for instance nobody knows who he is. The guy is even more unpopular than I am. He dresses okay wearing the appropriate uniform of brand name jeans and beefy tees. Even his sneakers show fidelity to an appropriate swoosh. At least give him credit his shoes do not light up. I have never seen anyone, anyone at all so much as speak to him. I guess that puts him higher up the social standing than I. Me, they deem to acknowledge at least, usually with the term of ‘Parker.’ ‘Parker’ with a capital P is code for trailer park trash. Oh yes I live in a mobile home. Actually it is a modular home built to stick built specs. It is on our own land not in any trailer park. I get sensitive about that shit.
One of those two guys is the likely alternative top grade winner for the senior class. I dislike jocks because they score the winning basket at the buzzer to win the state championship. That’s what Roman did last year. Not winning the game is what bothers me it is what follows. His response is he joined the entitled. The idea soon rises in his head it is his right to have the head cheerleader on her knees honoring the ugly thing below his waist. True to form our brainless captain of the short skirt crowd complied. You can almost guess the name of our head cheerleader. If you said Brittany, bingo you get an A on my test. Do I have to tell you she is far too stupid to know how demeaning that is? She is also not bright enough to know old Pedro told everybody she swallows. Yeah, she swallows and now begs him to let her have another go at his foot long. We are not talking Subway here. I did not hear Brittany say that. It was Pedro bragging to his friends. Then again, considering my history why should I believe Pedro?
Brittany parades around the halls followed by her acolytes wearing designer clothes flaunting her queen bee image not knowing what they really think. The thing that pisses me off is they look down at me. Me the girl who minds her own business and is not the school tramp. I guess it speaks to why I detest the beautiful people here. Roman is a primary reason why I hate guys another is Lyons. I will get to the number one bastard named O’Riley later. Andrew has never done anything to me. That is directly but indirectly he is weird. Ever since I first laid eyes on him four years ago he watches me. Not in a stalking way but in an invasive uncomfortable manner. I catch him looking at me in every class. His eyes are deep blue, piercing and captivating. Before you get the wrong idea I know that it is not because I’m looking at him. It is he locks those pools on me like he is trying to probe inside me.
It should not surprise me, Andrew is a guy. It is not a stretch to know he wants inside me alright. I know what exactly he wants to shove inside me. Why is it guys think with that smelly ugly protrusion? Is that all they know? I mean women appreciate good looking guys. We dream of finding mister right and understand when settling down what’s going to happen. Sex is going to happen and I will be required to spit out kids after nine months of pure hell. I have already decided there is no way I will submit to having myself stretched apart squeezing a ten pound ball of fat through my bottom. How gross, it makes me sick to think about it.
My idea of romance is finding a soul mate who loves me one who I love in return. Ever since that ugly incident two years ago my desire for a boyfriend has vanished. I hate thinking about it and refuse to ever speak these words I am about to confess. His name is Jerry O’Riley the captain of the football team. The bastard graduated two springs ago, good riddance. I agreed to go to the home coming dance because I thought he was so cool. My friend Jennifer one of the well off kids was a year ahead of me. She was a junior going out with Jerry’s brother Mark who was a senior. Me a sophomore thought I was being so grown up going out with a junior. That is until after the dance on the way home.
I have to admit Jerry is a good dancer but his hands were all over me. I kept pushing them away but each dance found his fingers being too familiar with my rear. I had worked so hard to impress wearing a pleated knee length black wool skirt with white knee socks. My sleeveless white scoop button up linen blouse was framed nicely by my navy cardigan. I mentioned the ride home. I should have said ride to hell. Mark was driving slowly until he turned into a parking spot near the pole line on the northern end of Baker’s Woods. I heard kids telling stories about this being a make out spot. Jenny Bates was smiling acting rather giddy. I did not know she was half loaded.
It all happened like a flash. Jerry is all over me in the back seat his fingers pushing under my skirt he had my blouse unbuttoned so fast I did not realize it. That is until I could feel his other cold hand cupping my bare left breast. His other hand is trying to slip under my panties as my head is pushed back against the seat. I struggle just as his lips press against mine. His tongue is trying to get inside my mouth. I can hear Mark moaning from the front seat. “Oh baby suck harder.” I thought is Jennifer nuts she sucking his,,, oh shit. I had my own troubles then I got an unexpected break.
“I’m cumming Ohhhhh” is heard from a loud voice in front. Jennifer’s head appears above the seat pulling back. Jerry is almost inside my panties when I hear spitting sounds or coughing maybe it is gagging. Whatever, Mark is now complaining because Jennifer made him cum. His intention was to have intercourse. According to Mark the stupid bitch’s mouth made his pole go flaccid. His yelling at her caused the distraction I needed to jump out of the car. The pole line is only a few yards away and it is close to my house. I ran all the way home. On Monday I learned the horrible truth. Jerry told the whole school I screwed both him and his brother with Jennifer swearing it’s the truth. According to Jennifer she watched in shock as she had no idea what a little slut I am. At least she did not have to explain if she swallowed like Brittany.
My reputation now ruined made me the school outcast. Even the nuns look at me differently. I came to think they must have heard the sorted details and sat up all night saying Hail Marys for me. It was then the insult ‘Parker’ became popular and I’m relegated to pathetic little wench status known to take on any guy in school. The in crowd wanted nothing to do with me looking the other way when I came into view. This is the same crowd that parties in Baker’s woods. They have a little contest where the loser has to give head to a guy selected by the winner. Yet I am the one who is shunned. Then again with friends like that who needs enemies?
Even the rejects shunned me because they now have someone beneath them. It was right then and there I swore off boys they are nothing but pigs. The girls are nothing but back biting scabs interested in elevating their positioning at someone else’s expense. A pox on both their houses is an appropriate punishment.
What does a ‘Parker’ do? In my case you shut down bury yourself in books stay home and refuse to let them get to you. I may have told you since then I wear nothing but jeans. I am not showing my skin to these pigs. So the prime bimbos wear short skirts scoop tops with push up bras are sexually active and then complain because of the leers. Right, you silly princesses are advertising the only thing missing is the for rent sign. The good news is both O’Riley and my ex best friend Jennifer Bemis are long gone. They graduated before this year and now my best year of high school is the third year I navigate dim lit halls alone. I must sound like an angry little bitch but I’m not. I like myself but I’m not particularly crazy about playing defense all the time. I’d like a friend but I learned to trust no one.
I scored a part time job for the weekends which helped buy school clothes making my father’s pay check go a bit farther. It helps me avoid wearing ‘Parker’ clothes without having to put pressure on my parents. Being a girl is expensive that asshole Lyons does not have a clue how easy he has it. I look at him looking at me and I want to explode. Enough complaining, I don’t like myself when I do that. I work at the Warehouse Outlet an odd lots clothing store. They specialize in seconds from major manufacturers. Rejects are sold minus the label. They offer cheap knockoffs no one else could sell at any price.
The store is on the corner of Trident Avenue and Main Street on the outskirts of town. It is an old gray building rising four floors. The building is one of those old clapboard types initially used to store farm implements. There is one section on the fourth floor where the previous owners stored bales of hay. Farm trucks the old flat beds with removable picket fence like sides would park in the rear. A large crane type thingy lowered bales purchased by farmers. That is all gone now discarded remnants of decaying straw still lay in cracks of warped floor boards. They closed the fourth floor for safety reasons but the lift still ascends to the open floor. The warehouse workers slip up there to sneak cigarette breaks.
The floors are old consisting of wide weathered boards that have shown their wear. A faded chipped gray color betrays a lack of upkeep. It is doubtful they received any care since I have been born. You can still smell that oily scent permeating this old building. It goes without saying the floors creak with every step. I sometimes freak when hearing squeaking louder than normal expecting to fall through the floor.
My average Saturday consists of me sorting shipments arrived the day before. Everything goes into carts by product type. Girls and teens items into one adults into others and so on. The sorting takes all morning the hauling all afternoon. There is always some sales girl running in messing up my piles looking for that certain something she knew just came in. I get to spend another fifteen minutes straightening out the mess. Carts go to different floors which I have to push pull and drag. Fortunately what goes onto the sales floor is simply stuck in a back corner where the staff sorts them. I get to use the elevator.
Let me tell you about the modern lift. It is ancient looking more like a cage than an enclosed elevator. The wooden frame is reminiscent of an old picket fence. There are no walls so to speak everything is open including the gears and hoist cables. Sometimes I have to pull flat trucks loaded with heavy stuff. Perhaps you have seen those things. They are about the size of a sheet of plywood with wheels on the back end and a steel knob on the front. You take one of those huge jacks about four feet long connecting it to the knob. You have to pound your foot hard on the jack’s tongue. The first time I did it I ended up standing on the jack my whole body in the air. I wanted to scream when I noticed four truck drivers watching and smiling. I don’t know if it was my ass they were attracted to or if it was my struggle. Finally the jack engaged locking in place causing a reaction with the handle recoiling. I almost fell on my ass to the sound of applause. One of the drivers showed me the trick of the heavy jack and it became clear sailing after that. One more reason I do not wear skirts.
After loading the ancient elevator I pull down the creaking cage door. When I push the button for the second floor I pray it reaches the next level. Laugh if you want but the creaking and moaning sound made by that cage as it moves up or down scares the hell of me. The operation is done by pulleys and wires elevators in stores, malls and airports likely work the same way. They at least have the comfort of a sealed enclosure where riders do not see the nuts and bolts.
As I ride up and down this creaking and objecting cage I can see the steel cable wrapping around the pulleys. It bothers me just a little to notice the cable is frayed in many places. It is like school I close my eyes trying desperately to ignore the threats around me. This is basically my weekend up and down that scary lift stacking bundles of clothes in bins. Before closing on Saturdays an added insult is applied.
That little annoyance is provided by my job. I have to hang the Sunday sale signs in the window. What is so bad about that? There is a row of widows the length of the sales area facing the main street. Of course, the store is on street level. You can’t risk customer’s lives by putting them in the cage. A long rail is mounted to the floor under the windows. A ladder is mounted to it which I climb to hang the signs. So it goes push the heavy ladder climb up and down, push and climb again. All the while this is going on kids are walking by mouthing ‘Parker’. Worse yet guys stand there fingering their crotch as if offering it to me. I bet it pisses them off that I’m not climbing the ladder wearing a skirt. I keep coming back to that as if I’m fixated.
Bess Winslow is my supervisor. She is a nice lady who knows what poor is all about. Each Saturday when I come in she shows me a selection of clothes set aside lacking any noticeable defect. They help because they are not obviously from this hand me down store. Bess is a dear who cannot understand why I never, ever wear skirts or dresses. Jerry is part and parcel of the reason why no one sees my legs or has an open hem to violate. If the truth be known most of the preppies wear brands of jeans by Royal Blue, Revolt, Piper's Closet, Vigold and Paris Blues. It is not like I can afford any of those. The price of one pair equals four or five marked down Wranglers.
Mrs. Winslow is a farm wife who works to help make ends meet. Over the last few years she has been like a second mother to me. To help my mom and dad out she gives me a ride home on Saturday nights. She is always giving me advice and offering to listen to any concern I may have. My steel resolve refuses to let anyone in but I actually feel better knowing I have an ally.
In spite of how rotten my life in this town has been I consider myself a lucky girl. My dad is a great guy. He works hard as a mechanic in a local garage. The man can fix any car or truck, if it has a motor my dad is your guy. He does not drink, swear or beat my mother. When in high school dad was the captain and quarterback of the football team. The colleges were lining up with offers until he blew out his knee. Without the free ride afforded by the pigskin crowd college did not happen. He got his present job right out of high school.
Mom is terrific, I’m not like most girls I love my mom. We get along great and talk to each other though she has no idea of what happened that night or the hell I’m living. It hurts too much to think about or try to put it in words. I have to be creative pretending I do not like dancing and have no interest in school events. Somehow deep down I know the woman buys none of my tough guy act.
I know mom really wants to help me find that prom dress. She would absolutely go bonkers seeing me all decked out posing for pictures she is dying to take. I deflect every conversation that may lead to prom topics. My usual answer is something like, “Mom I have no time for that if I’m to get a scholarship to Gonzaga or Hillsdale.” I guess she has given up trying to relive her prom days through her daughter. To be honest I still sneak peeks at myself. Without sounding like all the top ten bitches I look better than any of them. I will keep that my secret.
On Friday’s I meet dad at the garage after school. The bosses have gone home and he lets me mess with some of the cars. I know how to change the oil, repair leaking tires and even set timing belts. I am getting pretty good with points and plugs knowing that is a lost art because most of the newer models do not require those things. In this town which is reliant on farms and factories there are plenty of old trucks and cars still requiring tune ups. Mom joins us at five when dad is finished and we catch dinner at the Dog Shack or the local diner. Sometimes if there is anything playing we hit the movies. Most of it is garbage these days so we tend to go home instead.
Yes money is tight and we have none of the toys everybody else seems to have. No cell phones, no MP3 players but I do have a laptop. Dad had a friend build one for me in exchange for him fixing the guy’s car. It is kick ass. I stay away from social sites primarily because I do not want to know what the bitches are saying about me. I often dream I’d like to be a guy as I especially would enjoy doing things to that little whore Jennifer. She owes me for swearing her actions were mine. That is a whole other thing. I just know being a girl bites. The idea of having to give birth totally sucks. Spread my legs to get stabbed and fertilized, it ain’t gonna happen. I’d rather do the stabbing.
That whole being a guy thing started during early October. I keep getting strange thoughts about girls. Things like if I were I guy what I could do to her, well ugly things I have no desire to act out. They are not dreams or visions just dark thoughts that come about every now and then. Whatever, they are creeps me out every time.
Sundays I only work until noon so when I get home mom and I hang out while dad watches football on the old TV. Hanging out with mom generally means cooking and the like. There is considerable pride shinning through mom’s eyes when my blueberry muffins come out just right. I must admit I get a kick out of it as well. We do have a lot of time to talk and just be close. I enjoy the feeling I get from these times with mom. We get along though I hold back from revealing my general daily misery.
I struggled into my senior year still dateless and still without a single friend. Anyone who I thought was a friend shunned me because of a lie. It taught me not to let anyone else get close ever. Then the weirdness started in my senior year. First it was obvious lust in the eyes of Andrew. It is like he suddenly discovered what a little slut I am and wants a piece. Sorry Andrew you are shit out of luck. Everyday this school year Andrew is looking at me. It is like his eyes are glued to me. I have to hold myself back stopping the urge to scream “What do you want?” It is my luck the guy is in every one of my classes. How did that work? Did Andrew bribe the nuns or something? On second thought that is stupid. Andrew, Pedro, and five others are welded together in honors classes. When I look around I feel vindicated none of my tormentors managed to make honors.
Talking about bribing the nuns I talked my way into doing a report for psychology class early on in the semester. It is one of those year long reports where I’m expected to write a long paper on an original topic. I proposed what would happen if a boy or girl tried to fake being the other sex in public? What would it do to their psyche if people took her at face value and they did it over a period of time? I know I am dealing with Sister George thinking that is an oxymoron to begin with. Why wouldn’t a nun named George go along with this?
She kind of hesitated when I assured her I would not touch the topic of transgender or sex change or any of that anti God stuff. I simply wanted to test the what if of it. Sister suddenly grew amused suggesting a girl would find out how unfair life is to women. There are different expectations and forced roles. A girl or boy might get confused if such a mask is allowed to persist for a long period. Satisfied I am only trying to determine the shock of reversed perceptions and will use only documented studies she agreed. Not until I promised I would not act out violating any commandment. Now all I need to find is a victim.
Because I have no friends and I prefer to be Brad Pitt without the stubble rather than Meg Ryan I elected myself. Now then how do I go about this? Oh yes and about the Meg Ryan bit. I heard my stalker, Andrew comment my hair looked like Meg Ryan’s. I am not so sure I agreed. I find myself looking in the mirror with a critical eye. It is unsettling to discover except for the color he may be correct. It is hard to put a name on a hair style. Each salon dreams up their own cool names. A descriptive one word label does not inform a stranger what your hair looks like. I’ll put it this way, a Pixie is generally too short and not really feathered like mine or Meg’s for that matter. But we are in that general length. A razor cut fails to describe me accurately and choppy though it is close sounds too disorganized. But those general terms tend to lend themselves to what I have.
It may sound like I’m pumping myself up because everybody knows the terminally pretty girl next door look of Meg. I could be accused of claiming; no I’m rather plain I just look like a beautiful actress. Move on nothing to see here. Applying her name to define a style seems easier than to go through all the verbiage I just laid out. To clarify my chestnut colored hair has those side and front bangs and is layered. I’d say its middle length is cut to look more voluminous because it is feathered. My final word on this is I talk too much. When I add a bit of goop and comb out the bangs I look kind of boyish.
For a short period of time I got really bummed when the Warehouse Outlet went belly up. Business had been pretty bad for most of the summer. Finally the company closed our store and little old me lost a part time job. Before I conned Sister George into allowing my paper I had been toying with the boy look. Since I have not worn a skirt or dress in years my jeans and tee shirts helped to confuse some strangers. Perhaps I could pull this off at least out of town or among people who did not know me. The first time I wore my hair like this to school the nuns nearly had kittens, Sister Karla walked me out of her class chewing me out in the hall. It seems she who looks like a linebacker has different standards. I knew better than to say anything and have become more careful.
Bess, my former boss called offering me some really cute girly outfits. She had been pressuring me to dress more feminine. You already know that is not going to happen. She keeps insisting threatening to make some selections and send them over to my mom. I can’t let that happen so I agreed to meet her at the store to pick out some stuff. I insisted I will take only a few. With great apprehension I walk over to the store meeting Bess. She has several outfits set aside and wanted me to try on every damn one of them. Forced to humor her I picked up a
lavender strapless cutout dress. Not only are there two sides to the story, but both are worth mentioning.
As I stood there staring into the mirror I became confused, this is not me. It's hard to gloss over the sexy allure of two triangular side cutouts below a fitted sweetheart bodice, or the custom fit that an elastic back band and no slip strip lining presented in that mirror. The A-line skirt tucks a little at the waist. It has an exposed zipper at back. It is fully lined.
Wow, I though so much skin showing around my shoulders. My resistance to my feminine side melted causing a sudden need to have this dress. Bess is beaming claiming I am far more beautiful than even she imagined. The woman quickly began handing off more of her treasures to me. I paw through this stuff not wanting to look like a girl knowing wearing these clothes make that impossible
I keep Bess happy by agreeing to take the lavender dress and two skirts. Both of them have fancy names and bullshit label descriptions to fish in the marks. Anyway I am attracted to a skirt named simply as Lush. I slip the thing on over my boy shorts. You know panty briefs for girls who object to constantly pulling that irritating thong out of her crack. Good grief must they insists we torture ourselves to make the hairy guy’s access convenient? I am not going to comply. Back to the skirt. It is made by somebody called Dark Star. It is a black leather skater skirt with a double pointed yoke front and back, plus some chic vertical seaming. The high wasted fit enhances my almost nothing sized middle. If the truth were to be revealed I am a size four. Again my legs look fabulous; they scare me I have not seen them exposed in a long time. By that I mean hanging out there for all to see because my jeans do hide them. It is unsettling to say the least.
The impression I get from looking at my knock out self sets off alarm bells. I’m now convinced Dark Star is owned by the Borg. This is their way to compel me to assimilate. One look at this babe and all the guys go into heat. Yes, I am caving letting my girl come out. Bess is giggling with that I told you her expression reveals she is now convinced of my model like looks. I am still not about to tell her why I’m in denial. I agreed to try one more to keep her happy picking out another skirt with a cool name. This one is called Under Skies. Where in hell do they come up with these names? I can picture guys with limp wrist sitting around dreaming them up wishing these outfits would look good on them. This one is a blue lace skirt atop a knit cream background. The banded waist creates a figure flattering look that won’t miss a beat. Ok I admit it makes me look hot and I put it in my pile and quickly pull my jeans back on. If this is not bad enough later in this month of October events will turn weirder.
“Humor me Jean please put on the black skirt one more time. I want to take a picture of the beautiful young woman you are. I knew it all along but you refused to show yourself.” A pleading Bess almost begged. How can I deny my best friend? Did I say best friend, a woman who is middle aged is my best friend? I never thought of Bess that way but it is true. The woman who stood by me and helped me in this not great job may be my only friend. How can I deny her? I nodded my assent caving against my better judgment.
“Okay this one time and only long enough to take a picture.” I used my best teasing voice. The truth be known I enjoy looking good. Today is one of those times I must confront my conflicted emotions. I hope you feel better I am a pretty girl and flaunting it.
Bess is absolutely giddy as she holds up her hand signaling “I’ll be right back. I have just the blouse to go with that.” She is back like a flash holding up a blouse while I stand there wearing this incredible skirt and only a bra on top.
“Here you are it is one of those nice styled blouses with a sewn in cami. See that the shirt is an oxford material that buttons halfway down to the waist. The body is pink while the open top reveals a lighter pink underneath.”
I have to admit it is really nice and goes great with the Borg’s skirt. I slip the blouse over my head after all with only half buttons it is a pull over. Now I have to brush my hair as Bess insist her photo must be perfect. Next she tosses me a cardigan sweater either black like the skirt or perhaps navy. Sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing between the two.
“What do I need that for?”
“Jean, it is cold outside and the sweater will keep you warm.”
I am not about to protest just let her take the picture and I can get out of this outfit and escape. It is amazing how threatened I feel when forced to dress like a female. I bet it would be easier to get some guys into this outfit. Finally she has her photos and Bess keeps talking slowing me down. I need to change and make my escape. It is incredibly generous of this woman to spend her money on these expensive clothes. I feel guilty for trying to escape them. I feel even worse knowing they will hang in my closet never seeing the light of day.
There are times when your luck runs out and this is one of those times. I stand here exchanging small talk not wishing to be obvious by rapidly changing into my jeans mom walks into Bess’ office. She stopped by on her way to the football game with dad. The plan is to drop me off at the library to work on my paper,
“Oh honey you look beautiful. Bess these clothes are simply awesome.” Mom picks up the other outfit examining it like it is gold. “Bess you spent too much.”
The two ladies start arguing over Bess refusing to allow mom to pay her. Bess insisting little old me is the daughter she never had. Now that the store is closing she will no longer get to spend time with me. Mom assures Bess she is always welcome at our house. Before I know it Bess and her husband are coming to dinner tomorrow. Even worse mom promises I will be wearing the lavender skirt. “Oh shit more pictures.”
Not only am I roped into looking like a young woman tomorrow I have to wear this get up to the library. Why? Well mom grabbed my worn clothes quickly stuffing them into a bag and under her arm. With her free hand she grabs my wrists leading me to the door saying. “See you tomorrow Bess and thank you for the outfits.”
When I stepped outside under protest I thought poor dad was going to have a heart attack. Until this moment he did not know he had a daughter. The kid with the monkey wrench at his garage the one with the grease mustache is a boy. He spells his name Gene or so dad had grown to think. “Oh my God!” He exclaims then heaps praise on the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.
All too soon we are at the entrance to the library. There is no way I am getting out of this car. Mom chirps, “We will pick you up after the game dear.” I sit there not moving as dad turns in his seat. “We have to go Jean.” The glint in his eye is priceless. The man just discovered his daughter with movie star looks suddenly realizing the fear of all fathers. The house will be surrounded by more guys than Custer had Indians.
I step out feeling like one of those guys who got caught on face book wearing a skirt in Wal-Mart. You’ve seen the photos of usually fat hairy guys with tattoos looking like queens. The breeze hits legs never before exposed to the public like an Arctic blast. As they pull away I hear mom, “She looks so lovely don’t you think dear.”
Dad could be heard grumbling “Don’t you think that skirt is too short. I like the jeans better.”
As they pull away I whisper, “At least dad is on my side.” Several guys walk by almost tripping to get a second look.
“Who is that?” I hear one say while another is heard, “I dunno but I’m gonna find out.”
The library on a Saturday afternoon is a safe place. All the jocks are at the football game with the top ten mean girls. The only ones I will see in here are the nobodies who are no threat. Then it hits me, Lyons is very likely to be studying. He always is just like me friendless with nothing to do but study.
I walk up the steps still conscious of this skirt swaying with every step still cognizant of every male eye for miles checking me out. Suddenly I laugh thinking of how many third legs I am causing. It makes me feel slightly better as I gather some books to begin working on that stupid paper I am indebted to produce. Sitting quietly at a secluded table near stacks of books I scan the room. To my relief there is no Andrew Lyons anywhere to be found. I said relief but is it disappointment? Considering what looking at my hair does to him what would this getup do?
These books are doing nothing for me as no progress is being made on my paper. My thoughts are tied up with stupid questions, questions surrounding impossibility. Do I really want to be a guy? That thought as intriguing as it may be brings up visions of hairy chest, sweating, beer bellies, bowling and belching. That causes a shudder and then the painful reminders of periods, bloating, stretch marks and squeezing out kids and an infant chomped on my aching tit. God that sounds disgusting. Thankfully my thoughts are interrupted.
“Hey,” a preppy blond who appears bubbly says to me. Without waiting for an answer she asks, “I simply adore that out fit. Would you please stand to let me see the effect?”
I wanted to go ballistic but I contained my anger at this rude chippy. She is no one I’ve ever seen before so I doubted this is an ambush. I stood as she simply fawned over what I am wearing. After hearing how beautiful I am more than once she apologizes for being rude. “I’m Terri Collins a senior at Central. Are you new in town?”
“I shake my head offering, “St Michaels, I’m a senior too, Jean Phillips.” She sat down and we talked for at least and hour ending up exchanging phone numbers. A couple of Terri’s friends arrive more girls I do not know named Gwen and Pat both seemed nice. I have this strangest feeling being a girl is not so bad. They left when their ride picked them up. We agreed if all goes well we can meet up next Saturday. All of them promised to call. We will see what happens but I am not about to take it to the bank. I’ve been burned too many times.
Mom and dad finally picked me up after I wasted the whole day. I never thought I’d miss spending my Saturdays at the Warehouse outlet. Suddenly that creaky exposed elevator, smelly oily floors and my own personal pallet jack were missed. That is a sad commentary on my pathetic life to admit I miss a greasy hard to pull pallet jack. Perhaps dad will buy me one. There must be a use for such a thing around the house.
Saturday nights at home are not something a teen girl considers the ideal. I helped mom by making corn bread muffins while she crafted a pot of home made pea soup. I’m still wearing my I will not assimilate skirt. Actually I like it and promise I will stop whining about my lot in life. Plenty of girls have a lot to complain about. My biggest bitch is I look like a Hollywood actress. That sounds pretty small doesn’t it? I am so content and self evaluating tonight I almost called Andrew Lyons. Wouldn’t that rock his boat?
What the hell is it with that guy? Someday I may find out and regret doing it. After dinner when dad stopped raving about my muffins I asked him a serious question. He almost came undone. “Dad what did you think when you saw me in that outfit? I swore you took a double take.”
He stared at me for the longest time. He almost looked like Lyons when he stared at me. “Honey you scared the hell out of me.”
I blinked at that not getting what he meant. Is my father picking on me like everyone else? I came close to screaming, “Whatever” and running to my room. Instead I sat there giving him an odd look.
“What I mean is,” he paused taking my hand. “You are so lovely I know my little girl has grown up. I am terrified I am going to lose you. I love you so much. I am very happy when you are wearing a baseball hat, jeans and a tee shirt with grease on your face. “The way you look tonight is breath taking and I know our time is limited.”
I’m absolutely speechless all I can do is hug the man I love tightly. Over his shoulder I see mom crying just like me. I did not sleep at all tossing and turning wondering what is going to become of me. I have no idea, I am simply lost.
The strangest thing happens. Now that you are caught up to date knowing more about me than anyone you can understand why Andrew Lyons has me so angry. It is Monday morning at school when I see Andrew upped his outrage directed at me. Not only is the little bastard in my face stealing those glances he stole my hair style. I have to clarify that because I am sounding hysterical. Despite that freak and sexual pervert Freud I am not coming undone imagining things. No I am not suffering from the female psychological disease of Hysteria. Sister George is scratching sentence diagrams on the blackboard when listening to her intuition she turns giving the evil eye to Andrew Lyons. Following her stare I too looked at the boy. Once again his eyes locked on me but I deflected by turning away.
This was not an isolated incident as sister George must have turned several times before she could finish that simple five minute lesson. Each time she nailed him intercepting his gaze. The last time I am held captive I could not break his hold. There he is staring without demonstrating any emotion. It is like he is in a trance. Then I see it those green eyes drinking me in holding me captive. What makes this so weird is Andrew has blue eyes. This is not my imagination those eyes gripping mine refusing to let go are fucking green.
There is something definitely weird about this shit. I am going to have it out with him. I guess there is no better time than now. Sister George intercepted my slugging the freak. The lunch bell rang and as I stood feeling my hand ball into a fist she said, “Andrew come up to my desk, now.”
In the cafeteria there is only one thing you can say that is good about my situation. That is Andy does not have any friends either. That is evidenced by the fact he has the lone table on the opposite of the cafeteria from me. We are bookends that never meet and never speak. I like it that way hoping it does not change anytime soon. Now I sit here looking at him trying to figure out what game he is playing.
My focus is suddenly intercepted by a video playing in my head. It feels like my brain is swelling trying to explode. I see myself sitting on a grassy slope wearing shorts. They are guy’s boat type cotton shorts reaching below the knee and a white rugby shirt. My hair is combed back is in a ruddy guy style. I am viewing gentle waves under a gleaming blue sky I felt something strange. Andrew is sitting next to me leaning back supported by his palms flat on the ground. At this angle his chest is pushed upward and well defined.
Andrew is wearing a short denim skirt pulled up by his position looking very tempting. His eyes are green and I swear his face is a replica of mine. I absently reach out brushing his hair from his eyes. My hair he stole my hair. My hand slides under his cami cupping a firm breast. I lean closer to kiss his tender moist lips. The passionate kiss is breathtaking. My excitement rises when he reaches under my shorts stroking me. I recoil breaking the intrusion getting myself back in control. Again focused seeing the cafeteria and students I relax but Andrew still has my hair and my eyes. This is not my imagination.
It is his hair or should I say my hair he stole. It is more than that he stole my eyes. He fucking stole my hair and my eyes. What the hell is going on, has he elevated stalking to an art form? I stand up starting to walk the ten miles or so across the room. If anyone is paying attention they will notice my balled hands. They cannot help but see my resolute purposeful stride. They might even predict the violence that is about to erupt.
Remember I took great pains to describe the size of that jack handle and how much strength it takes to operate? I mastered it spending better than a year dragging that thing around. A year tossing packing crates in that warehouse. I may be five-seven weighing barely a hundred pounds soaking wet but a year of pushing pulling and throwing built up some muscle. Not to mention changing tires and torquing plugs with a steel wrench. Andrew definitely is no match for me. I can see him sweat as I close in on his table.
Next Chapter 3 Andrew Lyons: Discoveries
Chapter 3 of 9
Rights reserved by author
In our third entry we follow Andrew into the soup. He took a risk then took another.
Where did I leave off? Yes it was on Friday night after discovering Jean Phillips looking back at me in my mirror. That shock caused me to faint. I must have laid on my bedroom floor all night as I just woke up spread out on the carpet. I rushed to the mirror noting I’m still dressed in those clothes. Now I have to shower and put on the other outfit. A girl cannot wear clothes she slept in when going out for a special weekend.
It is not as if I am enjoying this I’m only satisfying a curiosity. I would not be tempting fate with this game if they did not offer an opportunity to see how the rich and famous lived. Clearly it is not my fault that I inherited this mess. Mom bought the clothes for some real estate con. Dad forced me to wear the soapstone skirt and wig. They dragged me to several agents’, offices selling their game. The Sanctuary organization gave me this pass for Andréa limiting it to the registered e-mail owner. You can see it is not my fault or a mess of my making. I look into the mirror of my Beetle while in the parking lot. I am amazed how much I resemble my dream girl. I touch up my makeup insuring everything is right then step out of the car. Several attendants give me the once over as I smooth my skirt and take measured strides to the creaking steps.
Bela is there breaking his neck offering to assist me with the swipe card. He makes sure I understand how the selection works and when to step into the chamber. We already went over this so much I want to scream. He finally backs off giving me space. I cannot do Romance, skiing is out. I never skied before and have no inkling to break something. The Spa sounds dangerous that leaves, Relaxation. I push the button like you are selecting a can of soda. A few lights flicker and a gate opens. I see the scanner which spews colored lights until an l-e-d sign says “Error”. I don’t like the sound of that and try to step back to hear another message, “Adjusting.” Finally, the scanning tube opens on the opposite side. I step into a room designed to look like a cave. The walls have those faux gray rocks with dew and moss on them. A door at the far end opens and I step outside into a garden.
A paved path weaves between rose bushes and a warm gentle breeze is felt. The sun is high and butterflies are alighting on sunflower petals. The sense is spring not October; my clothes did not change in that transition leaving me confused regarding adjustments it might have made. I quickly glanced down to see my skirt flowing with each step. God it felt sensual. The path ended at a circle where several golf carts are parked. Each with a guy wearing Dockers, Rugby shirt and open sandals without socks standing at the ready. Each guy looked like someone from those Hollywood soap opera movies. The big budget ones you see on the late show. I expected to witness the midget running around yelling Da’ Plane.’ My first urge is to laugh instead I had a panic attack. Why would I do that? Easy one of those golf cart drivers looking ever so much like a hunk approached me. He is my driver and will assist me for the weekend. The first stop after he assisted me into the vehicle is my private bungalow.
Troy walked me to the door opening it handing me a key. Do I have to tell you there is something hot about a guy in pressed Dockers, sandals and hands so warm you literally melt into? I suppose you are not surprised his name is Troy either, I’m not. I admit he pointed to a closet then opened it to reveal the most fabulous clothes a girl ever seen. He surprised me again.
“Andi those clothes are for you to keep. Everything is in your size, four I believe. When you are ready to leave I shall pack the clothes for you and carry them out to the car. Please if you wish a dinner companion just pick up the cell on the night stand. My number is programmed; you may call at any time. Please enjoy feel free to request transportation or assistance at your leisure. I am yours alone for the entire weekend.
I thought, ‘sure you are Troy and I bet you are more than willing. Christ how do I get myself into these messes?’ What do I do know and where in hell am I? So here I am at nine AM looking at this amazing bungalow. It is definitely feminine with floral patterns on pastel painted walls. A cool stereo system and wide screen wafer thin monitor. I discovered a wet bar, mini fridge and of all things a hot tub. Now I am not one to panic as I have always played Joe Cool. When I decided the hot tub needs to be tested meaning a swimsuit. Now what kind of swim suit do you think this resort provided for Ms. Andréa Judd? Yeah, right it is called a bikini. In other words it consists of two napkins and a band-aid.
The next thing I know Andi managed to squeeze into whatever that sorry excuse for a swimsuit is called. You must have heard me at least a hundred times say Jean is my dream girl. I had no idea how fantastic she looks. I mean for a girl whose image is a plain next door type; she sure offers plenty of skin in all in the right places. I did not trust myself in the tub with this body. I jumped out quickly racing to the closet and found that tennis outfit. What do they do read your mind? I have to admit while defending my macho male self I loved the feel of this short white skirt. On went the tennis shoes with me heading out the door. I figured they must rent rackets at the court.
Here I am walking along a winding road through a park atmosphere trying to figure out why I’m considering tennis. It sounds like too much work for the son of a Grifter. Son of a Grifter, you mean Helen of Troy’s daughter. Speaking of Troy, here he comes white pearly teeth gleaming like he is in a whitener commercial. God he is hot.
“Hey Andi you look ready for a round on the links. Do you need a lift? I have time we could partner.
“It’s like this I never held a golf club in my life.” My response must have sounded demure. I did not wish to betray his offer excited me. The plan is to keep walking searching for solitude. Find a quiet spot grab a book while the breeze washes over me and a dozen guys cream in their jeans watching and hoping. Troy like most hunks is short on getting hints.
“Excellent Andi, I spent last summer as an instructor. It should not take long to have you looking good. Let’s start out easy playing nine holes.”
He pats the seat next to him on his cute little golf cart. His smile sends a blinding beam of light from those perfect teeth. Against my better judgment my perfect rear lands next to him. It is then I discover short skirts get shorter when you sit. I just learned why one must squat to pick something up. It is one more mystery from the wonderful world of girls. Why do you guys do this to yourselves? I say a silent prayer of thanks that my tennis now golf skirt has a pair of built in shorts.
Any girl looking like me would simply get all gushy if a guy looking like that late night movie actor; Troy Donahue is standing there panting to get closer. I may look like that, however I’m not interested. I have to confess a voice inside my head directed my attention to his package. I did not need much encouragement my eyes were riveted. His glances transmitted he is aware of my growing heat within.
Troy is an excellent teacher as the profession’s custom he likes to be hands on. He held my arms above the wrist and sort of hugged me teaching the right way to grip. He was all arms and I could feel his minty breath as he guided my swing. The warming from the air he exhaled settled on my ear. It sent a shiver to odd places I did not know I had. He found many reasons to rest his hands on my hips. If he had a free hand it seemed to be glued to my waist. I never thought golf is a contact spot. I swear all of these moves could be rationalized as needed to show the proper grip etc. But what possible reason is there to be so close? I could feel his minty breath blowing on my neck. It sent chills it really did and my reaction was to do nothing. I found myself wanting more of it. We finished at two pm or so only to have lunch. It was at one of those round tables in a garden over looking a beach.
I drank a couple of funny named drinks that come with an umbrella in the glass making me feel a bit lightheaded. Troy drove me back telling me at least a hundred times what a great day he is having. The only way I could get rid of him was to promise to have dinner after a nap. He was absolutely drooling when he jumped into that cart.
At eight o’clock I’m shamelessly tempting him wearing a required girlish outfit. I later learned L B D means little black dress. Seriously that garb placed me at risk of going over the edge. What was I thinking when I held that skimpy black sheath with shoelace straps in front of the mirror? To make it worse it does not have sleeves and lacks any material above the shelf bra. Here I am sitting at a table showing more skin than I though I had. I went all out even dabbing perfume at some odd places. When I first put on a pair of two inch heels I expected to break my nose but somehow this rented body knew exactly how to navigate.
Troy is again all eyes and teeth with an occasional hand. Well fingers, during dinner I can’t count the times fingers traced my wrist. The grilled sword fish melted in my mouth and the soup and salad were heavenly. To make matters worse Troy is an excellent dancer why should that surprise anybody? The way he held me sent my body screaming wanting to guide his hand lower than the hip it claimed. For awhile I though it is welded there. I wondered if I could take him home with me. I swear when he kissed me on the dance floor I wet myself. Later I learned that is the female response equivalent to a guy’s erection. Silly me how was I supposed to know?
The guy felt let down when I failed to invite him into my bungalow. It is midnight and for a guy who had never been on a date before even I knew inviting him in would lead to trouble. Tired, I had a wonderful time and agreed to do it again. That worked as he limped back to his cart on three legs in serious pain I’m sure.
I managed to slip out early Sunday afternoon. It was not easy getting rid of Troy. I agreed to take a ride with him to see the island this same morning. Oh yeah, I discovered we are on an island. How I managed to get here exiting that Sanctuary house is beyond me. As we are sitting on a grassy slope viewing gentle waves under a gleaming blue sky I felt something strange. Troy leaned closer and one of his eight hands found its way under my top. I wanted to belt him when within seconds something hardened. No I’m not talking about the impression of something large pressing against my greedy palm. I mean something hard at the end of my fake breast. That little button pointed straight up when his lips pressed against it. Wow, I have a guy’s lips on my nipple. I thought I was going to pass out.
Focused solely on sensations caused by those lips I heard myself moaning. I lost control when my hand is suddenly filled with something long and hard. As he is raising my temperature my fingers sense a tremor as something wet and sticky pools in my palm. I sat up straight blushing when I discovered what I did. Troy is gushing; no not down there he is finished with that. I mean his face it is smiling and moaning. He kisses me again fortunately for me my bad little fingers disarmed his weapon. We scrambled to our feet with Troy apologizing he did not satisfy me and will behave better when I come back in two weeks.
That is if I come back in two weeks. I mean the idea of seeing how the other half lives is intriguing and come on guys you are dying to find out. It turned out to be totally scary. I figure I blew it big time especially when I ended up looking like my dream girl. Imagine I have been swooning over Jean since freshman year. Now that I have a free pass to explore her heavenly body I did not do it. I won’t admit this ever but I couldn’t do it I respect her too much.
Troy as promised lugged the large suit case of free clothes all the way out to my car. He hinted for my number but I’m too smart to fall for that. Keep him guessing that’s what the girls always say. Besides what would I do with a guy the five out of seven days when I’m me? No thanks I’m not going to go there. That is how my first week of freedom went not exactly what any red blooded guy would plan. Now I have a closet full of designer clothes any chick in the top ten at school would die for.
As I lay in bed I dream up schemes of how to talk to Jean. She is a poor kid like I said she lives in a trailer park. She wears the same frumpy clothes to school and is made fun of by the rich kids. I know for a fact how these clothes will look on her and they would fit. How do I give a girl a high priced closet full of clothes without having it come off wrong? Then there is these nagging voices in the back of my head saying keep them. I’d really hate to part with that tennis set err golf set. I’d have no problem giving her those high priced Jeans. They are all fancy designer labels that have strange names I cannot recall. Every top ten babe in school can rattle those names off like melting butter on her tongue. Jean wears nothing but Wranglers I can’t recall ever seeing her legs. I did not think about it when I said it but really I can part with the jeans but not my tennis skirt.
I fell asleep while hearing Troy’s voice whispering in my head. I know now I dreamed but at the time it seemed so real. The excitement of playing Andréa Judd impacted my dreams. I see myself sitting on a grassy slope wearing a denim skirt. Gentle waves are washing upon a shore a few yards away. A gleaming blue sky above with scattered cumulus clouds present a gorgeous peaceful day. I stretch black leaning on my palms drinking in the sun’s rays. I felt something strange.
I tilt my head to see Jean sitting close wearing cotton shorts. Guy’s shorts that reach below his knees. The waist band is covered by a bloused over stripped Rugby shirt. His smile is gleaming as his hands are under my skirt stirring up exciting feelings. At this position my profile must be provocative. I can feel my nipples pressing against my silky blouse. Jean’s hands having unhooked my strap are gently massaging them. I react by rubbing him with earnest discovering his shorts have an elastic band. A shiver goes through me feeling the pulsing in my palm. I sat up when Troy interrupted my dream I could hear his voice whispering, “It is your destiny.”
I set off for school on Monday completely freaked out. There are several issues keeping me off balance. Most of them are minor. Then there are times where you end up saying to yourself get a grip. These kinds of freak out things challenge your core raising questions of who you are. I put on my pair of Wranglers and a tee. First off the jeans are scratchy against my skin making me feel irritated. My white Fruit Of The Loom briefs are rather bulky Not that they are too large or something like that. It is just, well all weekend I wore Hanes Body Creations silk briefs. Guys you can’t imagine how heavenly they feel. Then I saw something hanging in my closet I did not get a chance to try it on for size. It was then I knew my core is threatened.
It was one of those yuppie outdoors companies New Balance you must have seen some of their crap poor kids cannot afford. This skirt hung there teasing me with its luscious purple color. The tag said ultrasoft and stretchy. Wear New Balance Arise skirt over a pair of leggings for a cute and comfy ensemble, complete with a pleated back detail and wide waistband. From New Balance's yoga collection moisture wicking Nirvana polyester fabric with Flat lock seams. What in hell are Flat Lock seams? It must be a brand name because the name is capitalized. It is just not fair the girls get stuff like this and I’m stuck in Wranglers. I ran my fingers over it and nearly died it is so supple. Like the tag said it would look great with tights and white running shoes. I had to remove the jeans and slip the skirt on. I nearly lost it because it was the first time since I got back I looked at my legs. My own legs were back no longer were those shapely gams of Jean’s hanging from my waist. That totally bummed me out. I hung the skirt up broken hearted. Then I went to the bathroom.
That’s when I screamed my junk is missing. Really, no shit my junk is gone. Not shrunk or smaller but gone completely not there. I have this small hole where pee comes out nothing more. Shit what am I going to do now? I used this to excuse my changing into the Hanes body silks. It helped me to feel better. Now all I have to do is convince the nuns to let me wear my New Balance Arise skirt. Yeah right, with my guy legs the skirt would look freaky. I’m not going to bring missing junk up. I can get away with using a stall in boy’s room for awhile. When I get back I will research the Sanctuary outfit about the residual effects bullshit.
First period was living hell. Everybody gave me strange looks. I don’t know why I’m wearing my usual uniform, jeans and tea. They sure as hell can’t see my underwear. The next to worse thing is Sister Karla. She spells it with a K just like the German secret police did when she worked there. I’m making it up it’s just that she looks the part. Every time I tried to steal a peak at Jean, Sister Karla caught me giving me her evil eye. She caught me about five times and each time Jean would pass a stern gaze. It is interesting that Jean never noticed me before. I caught her more than once staring at me. I managed to not look at Jean once during second and third periods. She appeared furious during Sister Karla’s class causing me to shrink. I swore she was about to cross the room and punch me.
Toward the end of third period I started feeling prickly. An odd moist feeling began to permeate in my panties. I began to feel warm under my collar then I heard it, Troy’s voice. At least it sounded like a sexy guy speaking inside my head. I told you he really got to me this weekend. I could hear him whispering seductively. ‘Little girl you are trembling in anticipation. Look at Jean over there he is going to make a woman of you very soon.’ When the bell rang I literally ran out of the room.
Fourth period is physical torture. My bottom feels like it is on fire. I have no idea what is happening and cannot avoid stop looking at Jean. I am fantasizing she is having her way with me. The voice is gone thank goodness but I cannot control my gaze. Then Sister George, after the fifth time catching me her strong glare bores into me. Even worse her arms are folded. Mercifully the bell rings allowing me escape to the lunch room. Sister in her stern voice commands, “Andrew see me at my desk now.” Something sounding like that I’m too petrified to hear her exactly. As Jean stepped to the door her eyes locked on mine, those beautiful green eyes caused sweat to bead up on the base of my neck. That is when I felt it my Meg Ryan hair.
Sister George chastised me, “Andrew I have no idea what you are thinking wearing your hair like that. Are you threatening Ms. Phillips? I find nothing funny in your actions. Do something about it Andrew. Come tomorrow I will use the scissors in my desk. You do not wish to have your classmates feeling uncomfortable being forced to watch me giving you a haircut. One more thing Andrew I am fond of buzz cuts.” Holy shit, I ran to the boys’ room between classes but first had to sit to pee. Two things wrong with that. The splash sounded off and secondly it felt weird to have to wipe.
I look in the mirror and to my horror I am wearing the wig. It turns out it is not a wig I could not yank it off. I clearly remember putting the thing on the foam head in my mom’s room. My hair is chestnut brown the wig I started out wearing was blond. There it is a head full of Jean Phillips hair. So there are two residual effects still not faded away. What am I going to do now? It did not help to comb it differently. I tried but the Jean effect kept coming back. Fourth period is the same as the first three. I’m getting strange looks but some of them actually seem to be appreciative. Then there is the stare coming from those emerald pools I adore. It is not a friendly stare.
The lunch room is arranged like every other school lunch room in the world. That is seating is staked out in order of hierarchy everyone having their own place according to status. This means for four years I sit by myself in the far left corner. Jean sits by herself in the far right corner. It is the way it is supposed to be as she and I have zero friends. No one violates this rule as it is not allowed. Thou shalt not disrupt the social order. Today something forced Ms. Phillips to break the rules. I’m sitting here eating my plate of unidentified school slop when Jean is spotted walking toward me. Hers is a resolute determined walk. Her unmistakable gait screams I’m going to the principal’s office. Before I can react she sits across from me, her elbows on the table supporting her chin. Did I say she has a perfect chin with an adorable dimple?
Jean’s pose clearly signals there is a purpose one not in my best interest. She sits without so much as a may I. My reaction is to sit up at attention like I do when Sister Agnes gets that look. I’m melting with lust staring into her green pools. Before I can react, mount a defense or even a warm hello she attacks.
“Lyons what are you doing? You sit in class everyday staring at me acting like I don’t notice. Today you went over the top. Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to make fun of me like everybody else? I’ve had it with your crap so knock it off.”
I come back with a pretty lame response. “Phillips isn’t it? You have to admit my plan worked you finally spoke to me after four years of silence. Please enlighten me what specifically pissed you off enough to end your silence?” I can tell she is getting angrier so I figure she does not like my witty response. Somehow I have to turn this conversation around. It does not appear a response is coming so I keep babbling.
“Seriously, Phillips which of my callous selfish and childish behaviors did you find most offensive? How can I correct my offenses if you don’t tell me?” Finally, I struck a nerve.
“Lyons, It’s your hair you did it up to tease me. It looks just like mine. It is bad enough you constantly stare now you want to join the crowd and make fun of me.”
I roll my eyes as she singles out the hair something I have no control over. “Look Phillips my hair is not intentional. If you ever bothered to look at me before you would know my hair on Friday was really short. Think a minute could it possibly have grown this much over the weekend?” Aha, that got her. She stares at me presenting a look that says she knows full well I’m right. What did she do? She reached over the table grabbing my top knot pulling like hell yelling “it’s a wig.” I screamed from the pain. Everybody in the cafeteria starts laughing and pointing and she sits back stunned.
Have you ever tried to appear nonchalant when a crowd of people are laughing and pointing? Some were trying to make smart remarks while guffaws morph into coughing fits. My response is to take an adult approach directing it at the crowd, “Fuck You.”
The next thing I know one of the bigger nuns is issuing the evil eye. She does not take any direct action like lifting me up by pulling on my ears pointing me toward the office. Sister Igor, I’m making that name up, turns to face my tormentors issuing her be quiet order. When she shifts her white habit central to her penguin uniform everybody knows what that means. They shut up at once. We call her Igor because of her presentation. The woman is built like a linebacker and her church name is Sister Ignatius. It is after Saint Ignatius of Loyola or something like that. In religion class we learned after being seriously wounded in the Battle of Pamplona in 1521, he underwent a spiritual conversion while in recovery. De Vita Christi by Ludolph of Saxony inspired Loyola to abandon his previous military life and devote himself to labor for God, following the example of spiritual leaders such as Francis of Assisi.
If you want to know more you can look it up on the net. I’m sure there is no shortage of information. In the meantime Jean is still looking darts at me not convinced this isn’t a wig. I can’t blame her who can believe this shit. My hair is just like hers right down to the roots. I try to lighten the conversation by admitting, “It looks better on you.”
It almost brought a wry smile. Like I said almost, she then shocked me.
“Lyons even if I bought your lame excuse your hair grew over the weekend into a perfect replica of mine including the color, how do you explain the other change?”
“Other change, what the hell are you talking about?” She is clearly pissed off blaming me for yet another affront. I did not do anything. What is causing her to explode? I did not have to wait too long.
“I suppose wearing those contacts is your way of highlighting your phony hair. So it’s not a wig or you have some fantastic bonding agent. But beyond contacts there is no way to change your eye color. I can understand using green contacts but changing the shape as well. You must be into some sick shit to carry stalking this far.”
I expected her to make a grand exit after slugging me. Those balled up fist serve as a warning. She simply sat there doing nothing waiting for some response. How in hell can I respond to something as stupid as that? Jean is so angry she has lost the ability to use common sense. In the first place I am not wearing contacts and there is no way I could change the shape of my eyes.
“Jean I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m not wearing contacts. My eyes did not and could not change shape. I think you are losing it. I will try not to stare at you any more. I’m sorry if I am bothering you but I can’t help the way I feel.”
Speechless she appears to be processing what I said. Her expression tells me she is not buying it. She takes a long time to answer most likely she is gathering herself to issue a contained explosion.
“They are not green huh. You are not wearing contacts and your eyes are not shaped just like mine. You had nothing to do with it, right. It must have been the eye fairy paid you a visit. You have to commend her she did a great job applying your mascara.”
Now I am in full panic, “What are you talking about? My eyes are blue and I’m not wearing mascara. What do you take me for?”
“Lyons, go check in the boy’s room, you are not convincing enough for the girl’s room yet though you’re getting there. Go ahead, I’ll wait.”
Now she is issuing challenges and threatening my manhood as well. I stand slowly looking down at Jean. “You will wait?”
She nods then stands with a strange expression. “I thought you were taller than me.”
“I am,” then I look suddenly discovering we appear to be the same height. I turn and run to the bathroom. Standing there facing sheer panic I nearly freak out. There in the mirror is Jean Phillips’ face staring at me. Her green eyes are enhanced with the slightest touch of eye liner or lashes or whatever products I know nothing about. They are green the brightest most beautiful oval green eyes I’ve ever seen. Defeated I walk back to the lunch room clueless unable to offer any defense let alone an answer.
Jean is still at my table wearing her I told you so look. She also carries a persona transmitting there will be no reprieve. There will be an answer and she will have it or else. I sit about ready to cry noticed by Jean. In total silence I gawk at her unable to speak trying to shrink. The last thing I want to do is get into a discussion about Andréa. Admitting that will certainly send her over the edge and I will lose her forever.
Well,” she presses but cannot complete her sentence. I did not see it coming but should have. Using slow motion replay shows Brittany at the cool table whispering into the ear of a follower. The follower, a jock well endowed no doubt based upon what Brittany likes stands. He is carrying a cup of what I don’t know. The zombie follower fakes tripping dumping the contents on Jean’s head. I discovered what filled the cup because Jean is covered by almost a pint of ketchup.
Jean stands screaming the red stuff covering her blouse, jeans and hair. The jock utters a phony, “sorry.”
Sister Igor didn’t buy it as to my shock she lifts the offender by his ears literally carrying him out of the room. I always thought Igor’s strength came from exaggerated lies told to scare students so much for that myth. A jock once known as Pete Gibbons is hauled away to be forever called ears, Jean is still freaking. I whispered a request to Sister Paula who is sympathetic to tormented students. She scribbled out a pair of passes and I with unaccustomed bravado hustled Jean out the door into the parking lot.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” She demands of me as I try not to laugh at her dripping orange hair.
“Jean you need to change your clothes. I got us passes to be excused for the rest of the day. I will give you a ride. Those jeans will be ruined if we don’t get the stains out quickly.” I open the pea green door of my Beetle noticing her befuddled stare.
“Lyons when did you get a car?”
“You must have heard my parents got twenty years in jail. It will be twenty years before they become eligible for parole. It seems the old man was hoarding cash. I found it; he owes me so I bought a car. Notice I bought on the cheap,” Being a gentleman with a huge crush I open the door for Jean who sits cautiously.
I start the car turning south toward my house when Jean begins to look a bit nervous. I slow not wanting to scare my dream girl away. I ask with my softest voice. “Is there anything wrong?” She turns her face toward the window answering in a muffled voice.
“I thought you were driving me home to change.” The tremor in her voice alarmed me. Is she afraid of me?
“If that is what you want it’s just I have five pair of designer jeans in your size that were given to me in error.” I could tell she is not swallowing this story. It is the best I can come up with. They came from Sanctuary part of the free clothes thing. I am not about to wear girl’s jeans. I added quickly, “Really I do, you can have them.”
“Lyons, it’s not that I’m afraid of you. I don’t know if I can trust you. What do you think it sounds like when I hear about free designer jeans in my size you ordered my mistake? Really and we are the same size.”
“They are your size, we are the same. Remember same hair, eyes and now size. Give me a shot I will prove it to you.” She stared at me with a blank doubtful expression. I kept driving toward home while Jean leaned as close to the door as possible. My thoughts focused on my parents they were both into clothes. My dad never left the house without being immaculate. He always said when trying to reel in a mark you had to impress. That is why he rented a house in this neighborhood.
It sits near the top of a low ridge on the edge of town. The house is not a showpiece is built on a half acre lot with an impressive yard. I lucked out with the welfare continuing the rent payments. Mom and dad’s life style has always troubled me and I swear I will do the right thing. I glanced at Jean knowing I could never expect a girl like her to share a life my parents led. I am getting closer to my street and notice Jean’s expression has not changed.
“You can try the jeans and if they fit which they will you can have them. Like I said I got them for nothing and I have no use for them.” She did not answer so I tried to ease her concerns. “Tell you what if it makes you feel better wait in the car I will bring them out to you. I’d feel a bit nervous going into a stalkers house if I were you.” She smiled as we pulled into the driveway.
“Really Lyons you think I’m afraid of you? We are the same size and I have bigger muscles.”
Jean smiled for the first time since she got into the car. Like the king of Grifters always told me when the bird is flighty give it a reason to relax. I shut off the car ready to run around to open her door but she is too fast exiting rather quickly. I smile watching her look around trying to be cool. “Come on Phillips since you aren’t afraid of me.” She stared following me to the door.
“You live here by yourself?” She asked with an incredulous lilt to her voice.
“Yup since the felons were hauled off to the slammer. I have the place to myself.”
“Lyons, what kind of scam are you running? Are you rich or something? How do you pay the rent or mortgage or whatever?”
I blink opening the door as the rumored poor kid simply is surprised when seeing my digs. I never thought about it before but she had no idea of where I lived. I guess I’m about to surprise her. “Phillips you think you are poor when I’m the poor one. You are much better off than I am. You have two parents that I hear are really super. Me, not so much mine are in jail because they are thieves. The house is paid for by the welfare.” She stared at me in total disbelief.
As I held the door for her I smiled not saying anything more.
“Nice digs, just the same for welfare trash Lyons.”
She is laughing while poking me as in a tease. I did not feel offended. We sat on the sofa. Well I did she took a chair across from me. Ms. Phillips is still maintaining her safe distance. I am feeling a bit apprehensive as my dream girl is in my house. How in hell did this happen? “You probably want to make this short. That room near the kitchen is mine. Hold on a minute and I will dig out the jeans. They are in the closet.”
She looked at me doubtfully as I dashed to my room. The jeans are quickly stacked on the edge of the bed then I had a thought. Ketchup in her hair, on her clothes, she may want a shower. I toss an unopened pack of Hanes silky boy shorts and an unopened Bali bra package on top of the jeans. Then I walked back into the living room. “All set Phillips the jeans are on the bed along with unopened packages of new underwear in your size in case you want to shower. The bedroom and bath room doors have locks just so you know.”
“There you go again Lyons. My size how do you know what my size is if you are not a stalker and why are you doing this?”
She is standing right in front of me those green eyes blazing. “Phillips, we are the same height, we have the same hair, the same eyes I bet we even weight within a pound of each other. The jeans are size four they fit me. They will fit you. Why you ask? Try processing this thought, I think I love you.”
Next Chapter 4 Jean Phillips Discovering a Secret.
Rights reserved by author
Because I love you, he said that about me is this kid nuts? Do I dare go into his room? What if he follows me inside? The lock on the door enables him to trap me. I turn and stare at Andrew he looks as nervous as I feel inside. “Go on out to the porch and wait until I close the door.” He smiles without a word walking outside like I requested. I scurry into the room close the door and lock it sitting quickly on the bed. What I see shocks me there are two sealed packages one containing a bra and another new panties. He was not kidding these are new unopened and my size. Still trying to piece all this strangeness together I finger through a stack of jeans. “Are you shitting me? Look at these things.” I heard myself saying those words aloud shivering. I’m imagining all sorts of possibilities. “What next, do I sit here waiting to see an ax blade rip through a door panel?” In my mind images of a deranged replica of Jack Nicholson arrives shredding the panel door. Those are the thoughts spoken and unspoken that are racing in my head. I want answers. He is not going to get away with that limp wristed spiel he threw at me. These five jeans together cost more than five hundred dollars.
I read the labels seeing Royal Blue, Revolt, Piper's Closet, Vigold and Paris Blues. This is a princess’ dream so I carefully pick up the Paris Blues and the undies then head into the shower. He did not lie there is an inside lock on the door. About fifteen minutes later I exit the shower and dress. The undies and the jeans fit perfectly but my blouse is ruined covered with ugly red smears. What am I going to do now? Mom is going to pitch a fit. I am distracted from my worry when accidentally catching my reflection in the bed room mirror. These jeans look amazing I cannot believe such a collection of rad clothes in a boy’s room. These clothes feel almost sensual while looking amazing appearing as if they are a second skin. I gather my thoughts unable to rationalize any of this. I want some answers.
Lyons is sitting on the sofa staring at the floor when I come out. “Thanks for the shower I really appreciate it. But I can’t take all those jeans they are far too expensive. Mom will ask too many questions and you won’t want me to tell her the truth. I won’t lie to her. I will borrow this pair and return them at school tomorrow.” Surprisingly he offered no answer while forcing a defeated nod. “What’s wrong Andy? You look bummed out.”
“Your blouse is ruined. I got one in the closet just like it. Go put it on your mother won’t know the difference.” His answer surprises me yet again. Here I expected some girly whine sounding like woe is me considering the mother lode of awesome costly jeans he laid out on his bed.
“Thanks,” I say unable to come up with anything else. When I open his closet there are dozens of high end girl clothes hanging there. I thumb through finding the blouse. He is right it is the same yellow scoop neck Carhartt sleeveless blouse. Naturally it is in my size. I put it on picking up the pile of dirty ruined clothes and carry them to the living room. Once again Andrew surprises me by taking the dirty laundry from my hands walking toward the kitchen. “The laundry room is out here,” he says softly.
His speech is neutral almost without affect. I chase after him about to protest but he has already begun to roll on a spot cleaner rubbing it into the ketchup stains. I did not see the label but it is the green tube like the one mom has. Andy rubbed in the spot remover on all my clothes and popped them into the washer. “I can give you a ride home while those are washing. I will bring them to school tomorrow.”
“Andy,” I say “What’s going on? You have a closet full of rad clothes better than the queen bees in our school. You live alone without any females. Don’t tell me they are something delivered by mistake. They obviously fit you and I’m guessing you wear them.”
He has that deer in the headlights expression where the only thing I can think of is to take his hand leading him to the couch. “Sit.” I used my no nonsense mom voice while fighting back a laugh. The little boy in him casts eyes toward the floor silently complying. I sat next to him holding his hand. “I want you to tell me what is going on there is certainly something strange happening. Are you gay or just a cross dresser?” I recalling seeing that soapstone skirt hanging in his closet. I thought how great it would look. I mentioned it to Andi telling him, “It surely would bring out the color in my green eyes.” Before I could finish he interrupted.
“Jean if you like it you can have it.”
Shaking my head I refused to let him deflect. “No I said yes it would look good with my eyes, in other words your eyes. I want you to put it on along with a blouse that goes with it. Don’t forget panties, bra and those breasts forms you have sitting on your dresser. For the record I did not miss seeing them. Then you can tell me what in hell is going on. Hurry up I’m dying for answers and you are not going to get away without providing them. Don’t forget to brush your hair out just like mine.”
He froze terrified but did not voice any objections. His presentation is like a guy who got caught, caught because he wanted to get caught. Andy could have hid all of this stuff. If he wanted I would not have seen any of it. I suddenly realized he hoped I’d discover his stash. Wow with that conclusion I’m feeling like I’m Nancy Drew. He walked into his room closing the door and I waited. My mind raced half furious with how he spent this entire school year watching me saying nothing. I thought I was the target of a stalker now I know it is something else. Yes it is something else, he wants to be me. I should run like hell this kid is nuts. He said he loved me. I did hear that didn’t I? Sure he loves me a boy who tries to look like me. That’s every girl’s dream to have a boyfriend she can swap skirts with. On second thought if he could squeeze out the kids in nine months he is the perfect boyfriend. I mean me having to do it is an ugly thought.
I sit here in the living room waiting forever convincing myself he chickened out. No matter what, I promised myself I will not laugh. He treated me better today than anyone in that school ever did. With the creaking sound of the door opening I slowly turn intending to fight off my expected giggles. I’m not laughing. I see Andy standing there he is not wearing the soapstone skirt. Instead I see and believe me when I say I’m not laughing. Andi or should I say Andréa wearing a cotton jersey knit. It is a very comfortable looking V-neck in Petal pink. The sleeveless Carhartt top looks so casual on him. I gasp when noticing his delicate arms. I simply adore the color on her. What can I say? I’m almost mute managing only a weak “Turn around.”
The blouse is perfect with the skirt he selected. Lyons turns slowly while blushing. I saw this skirt advertised recognizing it because in a pity moment I wanted it. I almost forgot my ban on skirts. My ban on allowing easy access to ravaging hands had relaxed for that one weak moment. Here he is showing off the Sidekick skirt. What I really like about this one is those slant hand side pockets and welt back pockets. Though the way it caresses his figure it’s not like you can slide anything into those pockets beyond fingers.
I reach out touching the bodice of the skirt as he continues his slow turn, the material must be a blend of cotton and polyester as to the touch it almost turns me on. I can tell the way his blouse rides just over the skirt’s waist band it is settling slightly below the waist. Its length is a sexy two inches above dare I say it, pretty knees. Andréa went all out wearing a pair of Mary Janes with a chic, stylish, cork wrapped wedge heel. They are fitted with a leather over strap. The textile upper body is luxuriant supple brown. Hook and eye asymmetric strap wraps over the top of the foot. The shoes feature cork wrapped wedge mid sole and heel with a rubber outsole.
“You look fantastic Andréa.” I caught her blush when she heard my compliment noting how I enunciated a feminine version of her name. My sudden change in pronoun use describing Andréa is deliberate. There is no male anywhere in this room. I could not help myself and hugged her whispering, “Thank you for trusting me.” Without another word I literally dragged Andréa to what I guessed was her parent’s room. I’d been poking around when spotting a bed room with a vanity. “Sit down,” I ordered pointing to the makeup table.
Andréa is sitting quietly looking embarrassed having been forced to come out in front of me. I promised myself to be gentle. Using a brush I feathered her hair repairing both side and forehead bangs. Very carefully I touched up the eye liner she obviously applied earlier. “Ok stand up next to me.” She did again very slowly acting as if she is about to cry. I placed my hands on her shoulder turning her to face the mirror. Then I stood next to Andréa “Ok sport I’m going to take inventory you keep focused on that mirror.”
Standing shoulder to shoulder I asked her, “Do you notice we are the same height? Don’t answer just say check if you agree.” So I hear her assent coming back as “check.”
“Do you notice your eyes are exactly like mine? Yet you say you did nothing to them. Just like your hair. Let me remind you it looks nothing like it did on Friday. Yet you say you did nothing to your hair. You can see we are fucking twins. Sit down on the edge of this bed and start talking.”
Once again Andréa complied, sitting on the edge of the bed her luscious legs dangling. I almost kissed her as I sat as close as I could dying to hear this story. I braced myself not expecting the wild tale about to come out of her mouth. I cannot look at my twin calling her Andrew. That will not compute in my confused brain. Andréa begins slowly almost whispering in a delicate voice. I know if she speaks with some volume it will sound just like me. So a hushed frightened soft voice is easier on my shocked mind.
I hear about her spam mail invitation to Sanctuary House and a vampire like persona she called Bela. I wanted to laugh holding back for fear of freaking her out. I want to hear the story even if I don’t believe it. From what I read cross dressers tell some whoppers to avoid ridicule. I learned about the free clothes which itself is bull. Nobody gives away thousands in clothes without a catch. The story of the island and the dreamy guy who provided golf lessons a lunch date and a dance sounded like an imaginative. I wanted to interrupt with a wise remark but did not at least at this moment. Andréa interrupts her story asking, “You don’t believe me do you?”
“Andréa, look I’m a girl who guys used to hit on I almost got raped. The way you describe this Troy fellow he was after something you didn’t do anything gay did you? I promise I won’t judge you but you could not give him what he wanted. Was he gay and you guys,” I could not say the words. The hurt in Andréa’s eyes bore through me. I stopped myself allowing my words to hang. I sensed Andréa is about to let loose in a flood of tears. I pushed too far knowing all that remains, all I can do is hold her in my arms mumbling, “I’m sorry,” at least a hundred times. Andréa feels so soft, so vulnerable in my arms. We rocked together for several minutes in silence.
What happened next almost caused me to run out the door screaming. Andréa stood stepping back two or three paces. She dropped her skirt to the floor standing in her panties. ‘What the hell is this kid up to? The last thing I want to see is her appendage. She is about to ruin the entire mood.’ My shocked expression registered somewhere in her confused brain because she froze simply standing there in her panties. I could tell she wanted to go further but is having doubts. A lot of girls are curious and really would like a closeup view of an appendage. Virgins like me, an almost eighteen year old one are somewhat doubtful about that. I am having enough trouble with who I am. I don’t need this, I don’t want it then I notice something. She is wearing nylon or silk panties. They are white and very thin. We girls are fully aware of how thin nylon panties are. This is what strikes me Andréa is flat no bulge, no impression of a snake hiding ready to strike.
Andréa smiles touching my arm as if trying to calm me without words. I tried to protest but she dropped her panties to the floor. Now she is crying and my eyes are as big as any anime character. What I am looking at is shocking. As the guys have taken to refer to as their junk her’s is missing totally not there. She did not tuck it someplace she does not have one. There is only a slight depression with a small opening about the size of a, well of a what I’m not sure.
“I’m so sorry, God Andréa forgive me.” The shock from my eyes caused her to pull up her panties and skirt quickly. She sat on the edge of the bed trembling. I hugged her stoking her hair soothing her. Wanting to ask but not daring. I remembered Andrew Lyons said he loved me. Andrew is not a stalker what Andréa just revealed to me is beyond trust. I took her in my arms without any further hesitation I pressed my lips to hers. My first ever kiss and it is with a girl. ‘Mom this will make you so freaked out. Why is it not freaking me out?’ While my conflicted brain is processing all of this my hungry lips are continuing a passionate kiss. It is long, slow and tender definitely turning me on. We held each other for sometime until she finally spoke. “You hate me.”
Then that vision in the cafeteria came rushing back. Me cupping Andréa’s breasts while she stroked my, I purged that thought. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Now it is me trembling. I pull myself together answering him or her.
“Andréa I do not hate you in fact I could grow to love you. Whether you realize it or not we have a unique bond. I want you to tell me about this Sanctuary thing.” I gently probe knowing I’d have a difficult time talking about a sexual encounter. I draw on the idea we are twins perhaps Andréa can discuss details. “What did happen with Troy last weekend?”
A wary countenance washed across his face. Shit I keep screwing up the pronouns. Let me repeat a wary countenance washed across her face. What can I expect? I’m fully aware Andrew Lyons is a guy. Is a guy without junk and a bottom looking like mine. Can I really call Andréa a guy? A guy who lusted over me for years and here he sits presenting as Andréa very far from any guy I’ve ever known. If you think Lyons is messed up imagine what I’m going through.
“Jean I was wearing a little black dress so sexy it scared the shit out of me. You saw those breasts forms. They look real and with a push up bra the strapless bare shouldered dress screamed girl. Worse yet the whispering included descriptors like beautiful girl. We danced close. I’m wearing heels for the first time. Rather than being clumsy, tripping all over the place I glided effortlessly. His hand rested on my hip sliding down silky material causing me to feel moist. I did not know what that meant until later.”
“He drove that silly golf cart. I did not see any other type vehicle at the resort so perhaps that is all they allow. When he drove me back to the bungalow I am as excited as I’ve ever been. I wanted desperately to let him jump my bones. I realized that is not possible and what is possible disgusted me. I politely declined inviting him in noticing his surprise. I also noticed his excitement telling me of what he expected. When he kissed me I did not object, I confess I wanted more. It was when his fingers touched my breasts I felt a pulsing like my nipple grew taut. Plastic nipples cannot grow taut. I kept my cool and begged off. Too afraid to explore further I went to bed not looking at myself. I swear it was only a simple game and a test to see if I could get in with that phony persona.”
“When I woke up Sunday morning I got out of there earlier than I had to and even that did not help me avoid Troy. He wants to meet the next weekend for a special Halloween treat. You know he is going to try harder to get me in bed. He said something odd telling me I can invite a male friend. If he wants to screw my brains out why bring a male friend along? I’m scared shitless especially when I got up Monday for school discovering these residual effects as they call them.”
I listened to this unbelievable story with the evidence before my eyes. Denial is not going to work. Even a hard core isolationist can’t ignore what she sees. “What happened on Monday morning?”
“Jean you can see the results. I had short hair on Friday and when I woke up my hair is a duplicate of your’s. Hair can’t grow that fast while changing color and the sandman is not a stylist. You saw my junk disappeared. How in the hell is that possible?”
Andréa is on the verge of freaking out. Instinctively I draw her into my arms holding the girl gently to reassure. My thoughts once again conflict me as my curiosity rises to a dangerous level. My thoughts repeatedly reject any desire of me, Jean Phillips making out with a female. That evil voice returned urging me to take her. I shut my mind locking the voice out. When you consider the message it confirms my belief, to be a girl is to be used. Ever since that pig assaulted me acting as if he is entitled to screw any female; that notion has grown in my mind. At that moment I was convenient. He did not care about me all he wanted was a compliant vagina to dump his seed. Until that point I prided myself for being pretty and worked at presenting the same as the perfect ten in our school. That night everything ended raising my defenses.
“Look Andréa I’m asking for a big favor this week you can bring a male friend right?”
“Yes do you want to fake being a guy? I warning you don’t do it.”
“Why not? You are turning into me. Why can’t I see what it’s like to be you? I will need a picture of you before these changes to make an avatar.”
She told me the avatar of Andrew Lyons is already attached to the card. Again she warned me this is dangerous. She backtracked repeating the read me file that came with a million disclaimers.
“Jean it said quite clearly the residual effects may fade over time. There is no research to predict what effects if any will appear.”
I’m not letting go of this. “What is the worst thing that can happen? Your junk may return but I doubt it. You seem to be growing a vagina. You looked shocked. I have had my own for eighteen years. I know what they look like and what you have is a close facsimile incomplete but close. Let’s say you keep progressing in this direction. Would it bother you?”
Andréa’s answer surprised me when she said for the last four years she admired me from afar. She did not understand her feelings she interpreted as love. Her conflict raised questions over why I never wore skirts or dresses. She wanted me to prove to the world how pretty I am. This caused me to blush and possibly feel a bit guilty. Then her comments raised concern while suggesting my curiosity may not be ridiculous after all. Andréa told me she found herself jealous wanting to be as pretty as me knowing it is not possible. Then her next comment shattered me.
“You know when I was in my bungalow Saturday night I realized I became a complete replica of you. A lot of guys would jump at the opportunity to be a pretty girl for a weekend, as long as they can escape on Monday morning. It is a curiosity thing that drives a hidden desire. What do you think they’d do? Don’t answer, we both know.”
I giggle when hearing this confession. “It’s okay Andréa it is only natural that you would, how do I put this? Explore my body; one you wanted for four years believing you could never explore me. I understand I’m not angry.” I held the confused almost girl tightly. Then Andréa floored me.
“You don’t understand and please do not hate me or think I am awful. The first thing I did was try on every skirt and dress admiring Jean in the mirror. At some point I discovered the breasts forms were real totally freaking me out. They could not be removed and pulling on them hurt like hell. I touched your breasts gently with my fingers. Yes they came alive and I felt shame for doing that. I know I was not the real you but it felt like you were there. I instantly threw on a silky sleep shirt and the feeling set me on fire. I never did remove your panties to explore. God how I wanted to but I could not violate the girl I loved. Then it dawned on me I wanted to be you. I ache to be you.”
My trembling body holds Andréa close and I feel shallow breathing and her chests rising and falling. Our lips meet again as we fall to the bed. Resisting doing something totally weird denying any lesbian tendencies I sit up. “Andy, I have to do this. I owe it to you. That may sound strange but what happens if you do turn to me. How in hell can you explain it? Can I go with you on Halloween?”
“You are playing with fire. I am afraid what may result from this.”
“Relax Andréa if I come back looking like you, you move into my house with my parents. Believe me they do not know they presently have twins. You can fool them. I will teach you all you need to know to settle in. If I have your junk I expect we can have a lot of fun. Just so you know I’m a virgin and not on the pill.” I sense fear rising in Andréa’s eyes then calm comes over her.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Pick me up at my house on Halloween. Then we will switch. You dress like me and I dress like you. I can then go try this place out for the day. My parents will never allow me to go away for a week end.”
Andréa appeared horrified as if I asked her to jump off a bridge. “Why do you want to try this thing out as a guy? You are beautiful and have great parents who love you.”
I tried to make a joke of it. “It looks like those residual changes are not going away. Just think if I can grow my own junk turning into me we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. It sure as hell looks like you are not finished turning into me. What being a girl scares you? I can assure you your changes scare me as well. You are turning into me perhaps I can return the favor.”
He looked at me like I was joking and for a moment I think I am as well. In the end Andréa agreed to play Jean while I played at being Andrew. I still don’t believe it. Suddenly I am not so sure as I’m on the verge of chickening out. Andrew said something that shook me to the core, he said my parents love me. When I think about it I love them and don’t want to cause those wonderful people pain.
By this time my clothes are dried and all the stains are out. Andréa folds them neatly placing them in a large plastic bag one you use for lawn waste. I am still torn by conflict pulling me in several directions. Suppose this hairbrained scheme were to actually work. Do I want to give Andréa my parents and become him? I don’t think so would I like his body, that is easy to answer, yes. I snap from my fretting tossing out a few wise ass comments. “Andréa someday you will make a great housewife. Can I still keep those Jeans? Oh from now on stay away, from Troy.”
I am carrying my clothes out to Andréa’s cute little ugly car. Yes, it is both cute and ugly. The thing is rather noisy and resembles something thrown together as an after thought. I always pictured myself driving a cool sports car. I know that is a pipe dream. If the truth be known the likelihood is Jean Phillips will end up driving a mini van filled with screaming kids. It will be my old man who has the cool car. I promise myself that will not happen. I catch Andréa’s expression questioning her, “Problem, is something bothering you? You forgot to change by the way. Uh, don’t bother that outfit looks great on you.”
Andréa freezes several steps from the car looking down checking herself out just like a girl. After she nearly freaks almost running into the house she settles. One of my pity comments must have brought her back to this reality. How can I call it reality? It is what it is the new girl by my side is scared shitless.
“I can’t do this, this pretending to be you. I’m not going to allow you to give up your life to become me. I can’t let you toss away everything you have forget that idea” Now it is my turn to freeze hearing him waffle. It means my chance to escape the monthly mess while doomed to a destiny of frilly clothes, primping and spitting out kids is crashing down on me. “Are you saying you will not let me use your guy pass?” My voice must have sounded as if I’m pleading like a pathetic little girl. I could see it in his face. I open the car door sliding into the cramped space still searching her face.
“Jean what if I go as the guy to get my old self back? We could be friends, Andy and Jean. Things will get better neither one of us will be miserable. What do you say?”
I did not answer him until we almost reach my house. I can see Andréa is on pins and needles waiting to hear from me. My voice must have sounded rather cold when the words came out. “Andréa it is your ticket do what you want to do with it.” Neither of us spoke the rest of the drive. When the car pulled up out front of my house I jumped out grabbing my bag slamming the door uttering one word, “Later.”
Andréa stared at me with doe eyes struggling to hold back the tears. I felt small sensing I caused a deep wound knowing I cannot leave her like this. “Andréa wait,” I shout seeing the car suddenly slam into reverse backing up to the curb. At the same time my father hearing the commotion walks off the steps toward me. I push ahead anyway speaking in a hurry to Andréa trying to keep my voice down. “I’m sorry I sounded so crass. We can talk about this tomorrow at lunch, okay?”
Sitting behind the wheel, Andréa relaxes offering a relieved smile. “I was worried you hated me and would go back to the way you were avoiding me. We can talk tomorrow, I’m so confused.”
I step back as Andréa shifts the car into gear but is again halted by yet another voice, dads.
“Who is your friend honey?”
I think of myself as quick, cool and sharper than the average person in this town. I am going to be the valedictorian aren’t I? Sure why did the dim bulb go when I answered? “Dad this is Andi Ly, err Andréa.” I forgot his fake name then suddenly while Andréa is blinking I remember the name Judd. Dad is accepting that because before I can eep out Judd he is talking.
“Andréa it is nice to meet you. Jean never talks about her friends I’m glad to finally to meet one. Do you have time to come in? Dinner is almost ready.”
I can see the panic in her face it spells flight. Too late, mom is here and she pounces upon my large trash bag.
“What do you have in the bag honey?”
It is an innocent question anyone would ask. There is no point in making up a story. So I tell mom about the ketchup and that bastard Pete Gibbons. I finish explaining how Andréa came to the rescue. While I am doing this, dad already talked Andréa out of her car. Nobody appears to notice the preppy version of me in her Horny Toad oatmeal skirt, Mary Janes, luscious to die for pink top and cardigan sweater. I take a deep breath, Mom just might have and I suck in more air listening to mom as she searches through the bag.
“Andréa that is so nice of you. Luke grill some stakes. Andréa must stay for dinner it is the least we can do.”
I can tell mom is dying to say more but her comments surprise me. They are not what I expected to hear. I swear my mother is psychic.
“Andréa, Jean the school called and told me what happened. I knew you went to Andi’s house and I know about that awful boy. Come inside it’s more comfortable we can talk there.”
On the verge of freaking out I follow mom and Andréa into our living room. Andi sweeps her skirt under her like a pro as she alights herself onto the sofa. Mom sits across from her while I take the kitchen table type chair in front of the computer desk. I deftly determined not to sit next to Andi not wanting to make the resemblance obvious. A thread of hope hung in my thinking they won’t make a connection because Andréa looks like a babe and I look like me.
Mom is sorting through my clothes raising a broad smile. They passed her laser eye with flying colors. “Andréa, you did an amazing job getting out those ketchup stains. I am impressed. Now it is Andi’s turn to impress me with her quickness. I can see why my road to valedictorian status is a rough one.
“Mrs. Phillips Jean told me you were not home this afternoon. My mom taught me stains like this must be treated at once or the clothes will be ruined. I rushed her to my house and gave Jean a pair of extra jeans and blouse. She can have them I have extras. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get Jean home but we wanted to wait for the clothes to finish.”
Dad came in from the back deck all smiles handing me a hundred dollars.
“Here you go dear.”
I look at dad stunned, “What is this?” Dad explains he was so mad when he heard what Pete did he nearly had a melt down. I will let dad tell you this. He is quite satisfied with himself.
“When your mother told me what this little creep did I went to see his father, Art. Art is a weasel who nearly freaked when I showed up at his office. He is one of those Goddamned lawyers who thinks his shit does not stink. Well to make a long story short he gave me the money to pay for your clothes. The little bastard is grounded for a month and is suspended from school for a week. Those nuns are tough. They are having an assembly the day Pete comes back. He has to apologize to you in front of the whole school or he is expelled.”
Mom has other ideas. She takes the money out of my clutching fingers handing it to Andi.
“The money is yours dear. You rescued my daughter and fixed the clothes. You certainly earned it.”
I present my how could you at mom gaze who simply offers her you know it’s right dear look. There goes an easy hundred bucks while Andi is saying she does not want the money. Once again mom shows why she is a mom.
“Andréa you must take the money I won’t take no for an answer.” Andi blushes catching the drift knowing arguing will get her nowhere.
“Do they know?” Andréa says to me after dinner while we hide out in my room.
“Know what?” I counter fully understanding her question not having any idea why they did not comment. How could they not notice I have a twin who is sitting right in front of them? Mom is not so out of touch she could have forgotten she birthed two girls. Is it possible they did not notice? I finally offer some crazy answer out of desperation. “Andi perhaps because you are dressed to the nines and I’m plain old me in jeans and tee they did not see.”
“Right, sure and pigs can fly. I only just met your mother. The secret is out that woman is one of those who does not miss a trick. No wonder you have been miss perfect your entire life. Your mom has always been one step ahead of you.”
I did not even try to deny what Andi said. I know she is correct so when is the other shoe going to drop? I did not have to wait long as there is a tapping on my door. It is mom of course, who does not wait to be invited,
“Andréa I wonder you have been so kind to Jean would you like to spend the night?”
Andi glances at me and I nod giving her permission. I am beginning to sweat because I know my mother. This is just the beginning and mom does not lose a minute. Her expression grows serene like she is trying to show empathy or something.
“Andréa, I know you can’t call your parents we heard about, well we know. You are a brave girl and I’m proud of how you are holding up. If you ever need someone to talk to I am a good listener. Did you wear those clothes to school today?”
Andi shakes her head no with a quizzical expression asking without words why mom is asking.
“Good,” mom responds, “I know how most girls will not wear the same outfit two days in a row. We are not like guys who simply throw on a pair of jeans and run out the door. Jean, give Andréa a sleep shirt and do you have an unopened pair of panties Andréa can have?”
I nod answering over Andi’s loud giggling. “Yes I have a couple packages. No problem.” Still nearly freaking I watch my mouth open.
Mom turns to Andréa, “I will wash and dry your adorable skirt and blouse. I only wish Jean would dress as impressively as you dear. Jean can’t you see how beautiful you would look? It is rather obvious all you have to do is turn toward Andréa to get a glimpse of how pretty you are.”
Shit, shit ,shit the cat is out of the bag. How stupid do you have to be to think mom did not notice? I grit my teeth waiting for the explosion. Mom interrupts my freaking out.
“Andréa your parents must be distant relatives you look so much like Jean. You could have been her twin. I can see differences but this is astounding. Can you talk my daughter into looking more like a girl?”
Andi laughs, “We notice how much we looked alike. I hear everybody has a double somewhere but never thought I’d meet one.” My parents are from the west coast and never talked about family.” She blushes signaling she is about to cry. “Considering what they did I’m not surprised. It is likely they were disowned. I know nothing of our relatives perhaps I’ll never find out.” Now a tear forms as she sniffles.
Mom hugs her offering comfort. “I pry too much sorry to bring out something to cause you pain dear. Why don’t you kids get to bed and I will have your clothes ready in the morning.”
Mom leaves Andi and me staring at each other. “Lyons, you never in your fondest dreams could have let yourself believe you’d be sleeping with me.”
Andi raises a wry smile, “I did not expect I’d be the one wearing a negligé and panties either while minus my junk. I guess you will have to suffer and suppress those desires you have buried.”
God this girl is quick she is absolutely beautiful lying on my bed. I am now conflicted viewing Andi dressed like I should be. Instead I am wearing flannel pajamas with a head full of confusion.
“So we are still considering your Halloween pass right? It is this in two days you know. You did not give a flat out no, not yet anyway.” Andi nodded while I added another mischievous challenge. “When we go out the door to drive to school in your Beetle you know what mom expects to see you wearing. Has that crossed your tiny brain yet?”
Now the panic sets in, “I thought we could swing by the house and I can change before we go to school.”
I present my best duh expression. “Andréa you have been dying to see what life is like as a girly girl. You even made out with that Troy guy letting him feel you up. Tomorrow you pretend to be me. I’ll present in my Andy Lyons hair and his jeans. Everybody will see you as Jean Phillips the girl. Consider it this way if you are going to play with fire at least we still have a hose. One more trip for you on ladies night out at the Sanctuary you could end up needing a box of tampons. I’m not sure you’d like that. I’m not sure you will be thrilled with nine months of cramps, back aches culminating with an eight to ten pound blob being squeezed out your bottom either. Think about it before you do something stupid.”
Next in Chapter 5 You will hear from three voices, Andrew, Jean and the Narrator
Rights reserved by author
I woke up in strange surroundings looking at the walls in Jean Phillip’s bedroom. A king sized bed which we shared is cornered in a windowless wall. From my vantage point I can see her vanity straight ahead facing a door leading into the hall. A window is next to it adorned with a delicate light blue lace curtain. Her walls are bordered in a similar shade of blue paint. A private bath sits in the far right corner and on the left is a walk in closet. For a poor ‘Parker’ the girl does not have it that bad. My lust for this girl as recent as a few days ago fantasized about sleeping in the same bed. Here I am lying next to her. That alone would have been enough to produce a third leg. A third leg which I no longer have, life can be cruel. A brave man would touch her but not I. I am afraid to discover what I might find. Recent events have brought impossible changes to me.
Those changes both highly desired and feared keep me frozen under the sheet. I watch Jean rushing toward the shower wearing dark blue pajamas yelling, “Beat you,” causing my giggle. It is at that moment I realize how lucky I am to be her friend all lustful ideas are gone. Jean is a girl who I love as a friend. A girl I wish desperately could turn into the old me.
My legs dangle off the bed toes curling against a supple carpet. I am squeezing them into the hooked fabric loops that form an intricate carpet design. A thick pile feels warm against my skin. Wearing Jean’s sleep shirt enjoying a sensual silky envelope, I stare down at my slender fingers musing how feminine tapered nails appear. I muse absently about how delicate nails on fingers and toes need a coat of color. Dare I request to borrow polish from Jean, does the girl posses such a product? I have never seen her nails colored unless you count smudges of grease acquired at her father’s garage.
Finally I hear the water shut off happy to have a chance at a shower myself. I feel rather sticky after a night under a down comforter. When Jean rolled over brushing against my back, especially when her arm flew over my shoulder I felt my temperature rise. Yes, I need a shower and I need to check these breasts forms. Like an idiot I wore them to bed. Jean teased me shamelessly for not removing them. I lacked the courage to tell her I tried but the adhesive remover failed to loosen their vice like grip. It is the same solution I’ve used before when my parents pressed me into one of their schemes. This is the first time the solution failed.
Jean exits the bathroom wearing her Wranglers and tee with brush in her hand. She offers a soft, “It’s all yours Andréa, or should I call you Jean? I may as well we can’t have a slip up at school today.” Without waiting for an answer she begins playing with her hair at the vanity. I grab my skirt, undies and blouse closing the shower door behind me.
The hot water feels great washing away night’s perspiration. I palm my busts which are resistant against yielding. The medical glue holds tight allowing no give at all. The sensitive feel of hot water against the plastic skin presents an odd sensation causing near panic. I swear my nipples have become rigid while areolas are more prominent. Wait until Jean sees these. No, I cringe inward this will remain my secret. When the soapy washcloth is drawn across my shallow depression another sensual arousal flashes causing a tremor. Then the voice returns using a purring sound, ‘My little virgin is nearly primed for tomorrow night. Your boyfriend anxiously awaits you.’
I wanted to scream shut up in my panic while jumping out of the shower. Frantically I toweled off dressing as fast as I could while running to the bedroom. Jean tilted her head in my direction with a smile. She tossed a small bottle filled with pink liquid at me. “I have been saving this you look like you could use it. Don’t forget to blow on your nails to let them dry.”
The mirror startles me as I look into it. Who is this girl staring back at me? Jean is leaning over my shoulder kibitzing, “You make a better me than I do. The problem is when you go back to Andrew they are going to expect I keep up your new look. I don’t think I can handle that. I might just end up hating you Lyons.”
“Jean quit your bitching you might get what you wish for if you use that ticket of mine this weekend. Then you can walk around as a smelly guy living alone in my old apartment dealing with the welfare.” That caused her to blink so I pressed. “Second thoughts huh, being a girl is not so bad.”
She tilted her head offering a wry smile, “It’s fine with me you wear the skirts you like them so much. And Lyons,” she glances down tossing a Lady Gillette at me. “You better shave those legs. I can’t have people whispering the Phillips wench is lax with her grooming. Don’t forget the pits, welcome to girlhood. It is too bad you cannot experience the monthly visitor before it becomes permanent. That will drive you far away.” Her sarcastic cackle almost convinced me I’d made a mistake. Come to think about it what mistake is that? I only snuck into a resort with an invitation. It is not like I engineered these changes.
I sat at the vanity for the next half hour trying to avoid skinning myself. Blood only trickled down my calf once or twice. Jean is having the time of her life grinning. I’ll give her credit not once did she laugh. She did not have to her eyes betrayed delight at my difficulty. I almost said misery but held that in check when I stood seeing my reflection. “Phillips it is worth it, look at these legs.” I twirled in a slow dramatic fashion allowing my skirt to flutter showing off spectacular legs.
Jean shrugged sticking a ball cap on her head. “No shaving, no blowing on my fingers, no raccoon eyes when a princess insults me. No hair showing through my jeans and my pits are covered. I can live with it. Let’s go babe we don’t want to be late.”
I woke up nearly exhausted from a restless nights sleep or lack of sleep. The thought of Andrew Lyons sleeping next to me one week ago would have caused a five alarm fire with me shrieking, “Are you nuts.” at the top of my lungs. I rush toward the shower wearing dark blue pajamas yelling, “Beat you,” giggling at Andi’s expression. It is at that moment I realize how lucky I am to have made peace with my stalker discovering he is a fragile girl. I like Andréa as a friend nothing more than that. If I were a guy Andi is the girl I could go for.
Just as I reached for the shower door handle I noticed Andi. Her legs are dangling off the bed toes curling against the carpet. Wearing my sexy nylon sleep shirt she looks adorable. ‘Oh my God.’ I suddenly see an outline of perky breasts against the fabric. She did not wear a bra and those nipples are rigid almost poking through. Andi looks incredibly sexy. Why is she staring at her nails and how did they get so perfectly shaped? Did she go to a salon? I doubt it. I closed the door promising myself to loan her my year old bottle of polish. I wonder should if I should offer lipstick as well? No I think the nail polish is pushing it far enough. Another thought just crossed my mind that I will keep to myself.
I showered rather quickly toweling off then combed my hair trying my best to flavor it toward the way Andrew has worn it over the year. Satisfied my hair is as close as I can get I throw on a beefy tee and start to pull up my jeans when it hits. The curse is back meaning another bout with the plug and more cleaning. Once my tee is finally tucked into my jeans I exit the shower yelling, “It’s all yours Andréa, or should I call you Jean? I may as well we can’t have a slip up at school today.”
When I enter the bedroom Andi has bundled her clothes under her arms while walking toward the shower. I stare at her oddly dying to ask why she is still wearing those breasts forms. She must really enjoy girly bits. It not like she can feel anything more than their weight. I sit at the vanity hearing that voice one more time. “The little vir—” I cut sharply by blocking my thoughts focusing elsewhere. I don’t want to hear anymore of this crap wherever it is coming from. I am ready when Andi exits the shower.
I stand pointing to the vanity tossing a bottle of nail pick polish liquid at Andi. “I have been saving this you look like you could use it. Don’t forget to blow on your nails to let them dry.” Andi gazes into the mirror as if she is shocked at how beautiful she looks. I peer over her shoulder joking, “You make a better me than I do. The problem is when you go back to being Andrew they are going to expect I keep up your new look. I don’t think I can handle that. I might just end up hating you Lyons.”
Andréa scolds me, “Jean quit your bitching you might get what you wish for if you use that ticket of mine this weekend. Then what, you walk around as a smelly guy living alone in my old apartment dealing with the welfare?” I blinked hearing that and she continued. “Second thoughts huh, being a girl is not so bad.”
I’m not letting my sister get in the last word. Offering a wry smile I quip, “It’s fine with me you wear the skirts you like them so much. And Lyons,” I pick up my razor a Lady Gillette tossing it at Andi. “You better shave those legs. I can’t have people whispering that the Phillips wench is lax on her grooming. Don’t forget the pits, welcome to girlhood. It is too bad you cannot experience the monthly visitor before it becomes permanent.” Then I offered a dramatic cackle to suggest Lyons is missing the point. Yes, a beautiful girl can be at the top of the food chain that does not mean it is a good thing. The higher you get the bigger the target you become. You should not have to guess after reading this far why I’m hiding me.
I watched Andréa at the vanity for the next half hour daintily trying to avoid gashes. Blood only trickled down her calf once or twice. I try not to but cannot avoid grinning. In spite of what Andi may think I did not enjoy her difficulty. My sister has to defend her position so I fired off, “Phillips it is worth it, look at these legs.” She twirled in an exaggerated fashion flaunting her spectacular legs with a sexy skirt swirling around.
With a dismissive shrug I put my ball cap on replying, “No shaving, no blowing on my fingers, no raccoon eyes when a princess insults me. No hair showing through my jeans and my pits are covered. I can live with it. Let’s go babe we don’t want to be late.”
The first hurdle is getting past mom I doubt she will like me wearing this ball cap but I do not want her seeing my hair. Mom is in the kitchen drinking coffee as I grab the door handle, “Jean you should eat breakfast.”
“No time mom we are going to be late. Andréa is too much of a girl she needs to get up at least an hour earlier.”
“Jean that is not very nice to tease your friend like that. Andréa let me get a look at you.” Lyons stops giving me an apologetic look. She shrugs while I look on from the porch. Mom cannot resist, “You look lovely my dear. Promise me you will come home with Jean to have dinner and spend the night.” Andi promised and caught me on the front lawn.
I’m reaching for the passenger door when she grabs me by the arm sticking her keys in my hands. “You are Andrew today did you forget this is your car? No way the guy is letting his chick drive.”
Ouch, I shrug unlocking the door and sliding in. At least I don’t have to adjust anything to operate the vehicle or use the mirrors. “God missy you have that skirt smoothing thing down pat. It’s like you’ve been doing that all your life.” Andréa remains silent throwing a nasty grin in my direction. I am beginning to dread trying to fake my way through the day as Andrew Lyons. It should not be that difficult as he is virtually ignored by everyone. The real issue concerning me is how will Andi pull off being me. The idea she is coming out as a girl, a beautiful one at that is frightening. I have not dressed like she is in four years. They are going to notice. That voice returned, ‘don’t worry bitch she will only give head. The new girl’s cherry will be yours tomorrow.’ I nearly screamed ordering the thing to shut up as my foot hit the brake.
“Christ, Phillips what the hell are you doing?” Andréa demands as her hands splay against the dash. I pull over to the curb while cars behind are honking. I swore I heard a number of obscenities when they passed. “I’m sorry Andi I heard something that scared me are you okay?”
“You heard something like voices in your head? Don’t tell me; please don’t tell me you are hearing voices like I am.”
The fear in her eyes shook me as I threw myself wrapping her into my arms. “What is happening?”
Allow me to introduce myself dear reader I have been silent far to long. You have the author to thank for that. Rather than call upon a professional this writer allows her characters to tell their own stories. To be fair I must inform you I read the prologue taking offense at the author’s disparaging remarks. I will quote her, “The narrator expresses his distaste of being forced to participate by reading this story.” I am sure Sarah will delete this before publishing the story. Yes the writer’s name is Sarah which is a lot prettier than that stupid pseudonym she uses. Never mind as a professional I will do my job without complaining.
There are several points needing to be addressed. One is who are the Renovators and what is the Sanctuary House? The author has spent far too much time developing characters. Yes, yes I know character building in an important feature required in story telling. The problem is when one is dealing with Demons, possessions and violence no one cares about characters. They are merely fodder as in all horror stories they are nothing but grain for the grist mill. The important role of characters in these kinds of stories is they are presented accurately as bimbos being chased around in their underwear by creatures who devour them. Instead the author focuses on building them up so you will like them. That is not suppose to happen it only serves to piss readers off when characters they like get chopped up. Seriously can you believe a teenage girl and a girl wanna be could possibly defeat the forces of evil?
Where were we? Oh yes in the atrium of the Sanctuary house where Yuri Beekman is discussing current business with Helmut Belagosi. Yuri is the supervising Renovator for this area while Belagosi is the man in charge of operations. The Renovators are a team assigned by the Boss to round up Demons during this the season of highest activity. There is still time to explain the high season. Rest assured your narrator is ever vigilant and will describe those reasons when the time is proper.
Sanctuary House is a setup designed to attract demons because it appears to be one of those lovely establishments seen in your typical Hollywood B movie. “Bella please update me on the number of demons your team has captured. This has been a particularly difficult season. The other houses report increased activity with many devious acts committed by the Trickster’s followers. We have been after him for decades. He always manages to slip through our hands.”
The haggard assistant appears to have a strong resemblance to a demon himself. Lowering his brows he appears seemingly happy about his results. “Sir we have eight without success locating the Trickster himself. It is rumored he is in the area targeting some humans for a devious scheme. The word is he plans to give the world another human/demon hybrid.”
“What about your invitations have you had any success in that regard? Often we pull in a sizable number of demons.”
Bella smiles, “Yes sir we picked off five they are awaiting purification in the pens as we speak. The Sanctuary House is set up as a hideaway so to speak offering lavish fantasy getaways. We sent out spam mail invitations knowing the Trickster is an avid hacker. We are aware the demon will check out our buildings finding them ideal for his pranks. As expected his followers descended into trap thinking they will find ready victims. As no real people received an invitation our agents posed as marks. When the demons swept down they were easy prey. There is one exception, a boy named Andrew Lyons received an invitation and he showed up.”
Beekman narrows his brows, “You turned him away I trust.”
“No sir, he never showed a pretty young girl came in his stead. Her name is Andréa Judd. We thought she was one of your agents incognito so we admitted her. It turns out that was Andrew disguised as a girl. The system scans each invitee enhancing their physical attributes. It helps sell our misdirection of a fantasy weekend. Those demons are short on intellect. This trick fools them every time. In young mister Lyons case he is turning into an improved Andréa. The problem is the Trickster never appeared and has disappeared.”
“My dear Bella have you figured out yet this Andrew or Andréa is now a target? I suggest your agents be employed to search the kid out? The child is the Trickster’s perfect target. Need I remind you of his favorite game?”
There is little more your narrator can offer you at this time. The author is insisting I take my leave for now allowing our silly children to fumble their way through. At least we know the Demon hunters are on the job having made a muck of it as usual to this point. You know what happens to the exorcists types in these stories. The demons are only slowed to return again and again while the exorcists are less fortunate. A bit later your professional narrator will explain more of the adventure to you once the author comes to her senses. For now the blood and gore will have to wait as we must learn more about silly teens. We go back to the side of the road where that Jean child is hearing voices.
It took me quite awhile to calm Jean down as the poor girl literally lost it in the car. I can tell you wrapping my arms around a shaken Jean Phillips has been a life long dream. Whoever caused this thanks, you did me a favor. From now on keep your mouth shut. Jean managed to regain control and get us to the school parking lot in one piece. Now she has to get out of the car without freaking. I whisper in her ear, “Remember you are Andrew. Walk with your head down and never, ever make eye contact with anyone. They all hate you. Do you have any advice for me?”
She looks at me with her beautiful emerald eyes. Removing her ball cap she tosses it on the seat. “The nuns are not going to let my hat in the building.” She shakes her head allowing her gunk plastered hair to settle into a reasonable facsimile of what mine usually looks like. Finally, answering my question she quips, “Too late Lyons you already screwed up. Jean Phillips never showed up in this building looking like a starlet before. Every head in school will be measuring you. The guys will walk into lockers and the chicks will be glaring darts at you. The best you can do is keep your head down. When the guys chat you up remember you are prey and they are gaming you for one reason. Have you got it? See you in class and stay close.”
I don’t know what upset me the most, the whistles or the darts. I have to say showing up like this certainly gets attention. The whispers intended just loud enough for me to hear sounded like, “I want a piece of that” and “Is that the ‘Parker?” So now I know why Jean has a permanent bad attitude. I also discovered why my staring at her is so annoying. Now I’m getting the treatment. To whoever made that comment try walking a mile in my shoes. Well sir I get it.
The highlight of the day one that Andrew Lyons dreamed about came at lunch. I’m sitting at the reserved Phillips’ table in the corner when Nathan Brown one of the hunks stops. He smiles flashing his recent dental hygienist effort the white radiating a brilliant light. “Jean care to go to the Halloween dance with me?” I have no time to answer because the faux Andrew plops down next to me in a never before used seat. He leans over kissing me full on the lips and turns to Nathan. “Sorry guy, Jean is my steady, right babe?”
My first reaction is to smack him but I’m interrupted by the crashing sound of Heather’s tray falling to the floor. By then it had suddenly dawned on me a pretty girl needs a protector. Jean can take care of herself but a steady boyfriend keeps the sharks at bay. I kissed the real Jean in return whispering, “Thanks.” That was just in time to catch a warning stare from Sister Igor.
On the way out to the car after school I’m walking with the faux Andrew who is carrying my books. I am beginning to like this gig. Having a boyfriend who jumps at my every need is cool. Being a pretty girl is a good thing. I don’t care what Jean says about spitting out kids. That picture does have a disgusting aura to it but having the kid planted, wow that part sounds way too cool.
I get in the car sitting in the chick’s seat having fun smoothing my skirt making sure a bit more leg shows than should be. Jean gives me that nasty look. “We are a hussy now huh ‘Parker’?” I lean over giving her a kiss. “If it bothers you so much why is your hand on my thigh?” Jean flushes shifting the car into gear.
“Don’t wet your panties ‘Parker’ I though I had the stick shift.”
I cannot resist laughing as the new Andrew pulls into traffic. “Say what you mean, I though I had the stick shift means I wish I have a stiff stick.” That is when she poked me and warned if she had one I’d be in trouble. I have this feeling I am in trouble anyway. The voice returned threatening me with all kinds of mayhem. I am glad Jean’s mom invited me to spend the night. There is no way I could hold out at my house alone. Okay so tonight is not Halloween, it is Cabbage Night which is almost as ugly. I am still kicking my ass for opening that spam mail. Worse yet I am risking Jean’s life with my bullshit. Like a girl I started crying. Jean asked me what is wrong and I said as expected, “Nothing.”
The new Jean and I no sooner entered the hallowed halls going to our lockers when I got my first lesson of life as Andrew Lyons. We had walked to our metal closets. They are across from each other on opposite sides of the hall. I stood there for a moment watching the reaction to the new Jean. God she is truly beautiful. I can see why I refused to parade around looking all girly. The guys were literally tripping over each other trying to get a better look. No one said ‘Parker’ out loud. As I turned to open my locker from the corner I could Dale Simpson coming at me. I knew at once what was coming. It is the old Philadelphia Flyer bully boy’s hip check. Oh yeah what was the guy’s name, Schultz that’s it. The big hairy muscle bound guy was mean as a bull in heat. He comes flying down the hall at full speed his hockey stick high.
I could see in my mind’s eye the poor puck carrier getting smashed against the board falling into a crumpled mass. That happens right after your face is mashed into the glass. Unfortunately for Schultz I side stepped and he hit the locker full speed. The crash echoed through the hall as the locker door caved. Poor Schultz hit the floor bleeding from his nose. He did not lay there for long because Sister Igor is on patrol. She lifted him by the ears. As she dragged him off she is heard saying. “Nice moves Mr. Lyons. I saw the whole thing.”
My partner standing against the other wall is laughing hysterically. She walked over taking my hand and we strolled like dreamers in love to class. None of the teachers said a thing to me accepting the quiet Andrew as the norm. It took away a lot of the pressure. I’m sure sister George must have had a trying day. Every time she turned to catch me staring at Jean I was looking at the chalk board, besides everybody else is staring at jean.
I’m having a hard time not laughing when Lyons dressed up as me is complaining. “I don’t know what upset me the most, the whistles or the darts. I have to say showing up like this certainly gets attention. The whispers intended just loud enough for me to hear sounded like, I want a piece of that” and “Is that the ‘Parker?”
My reaction is to reply, “So now I know why you have a permanent bad attitude.” I quieted after that keeping my mouth shut choosing to not talk about my day as Andrew. We can compare notes later.
The Nathan Brown thing was funny. Andrew pretending he is me is sitting at my reject table when the misguided fellow raises enough courage to say the words. “Jean care to go to the Halloween dance with me?” That little bastard actually stood outside the Warehouse Outlet playing with his crotch offering it to me while I stood on the ladder in the window. Now he is asking who he thinks is me out for a date. It is really you son of a bitch. If you have not figured out by now I am one feisty piece of work this should convince you.
I drop into the seat next to my honey and kiss her right on the lips. “Sorry Nate but Jean here is my steady.” The look in his eyes is priceless. Then I kiss her again which is a mistake because I wet my panties. I will never, ever tell Andrew this; the look on the fake Jean’s face is priceless. It is worth the stare from Sister Igor. I noted Jean’s expression as well. Just like mine it read hunger.
When we got back to the car my view is slightly different than the old Andrew’s. You might say it is beyond weird for me to look at her hem rise revealing those beautiful thighs and feeling wetness in my panties. Especially since in reality I am looking at my own legs. I’ve spent a lifetime looking at, shaving, washing and pampering those legs. How in hell can they be turning me on?
The incident sparking my sexual arousal is when I get in the car sitting in the driver’s seat. Her act of smoothing the skirt making sure a bit more leg shows than should be is obvious. That is exactly what I’d do if I were troweling. Being an instigator I quip, “We are a hussy now huh ‘Parker’?” She leans over giving me a kiss. “If it bothers you so much why is your hand on my thigh?” I flush shifting the car into gear.
“Don’t wet your panties ‘Parker’ I though I had the stick shift.” My reply is lame but I’m on the defensive. The kiss is still on my mind I can’t get enough of those lips and if I could I guarantee you I’d have an erection. The voice from hell suddenly appeared, ‘Don’t let it bother you. Tomorrow she will be yours.’ Again I almost hit the break offering, ‘Fuck you loser.’
My friend Andrew sitting in the chicks seat is going on about the stick shift. I did not hear much of what she said being focused on that voice. I know it is evil and before tomorrow night is over I’m going to have to kick it’s ass. When Andrew as Jean started crying I knew any rational conversation ended so I simply said “No.” I’m not sure what I said no to but you have to remember I’m faking being a guy. We always claim guy’s don’t listen I’m just proving we girls are right.
I sat in my driveway while Andréa fidgets with her skirt passing questioning glances at me. I suppose she wonders why I sit here with a glazed expression. I am staring at my modest sized house. It is a Cape Cod style with two bay windows one on each end. The living room on my left while behind the right bay window is my parent’s room. My bedroom is in the back and I do not have one of those protruding windows. I shrug terrified I am going to lose all of this. True I’ve wanted to be a boy for sometime but as I strain I cannot recall when these thoughts had begun. Andréa broke my concentration, “Jean are we going to sit here or what?”
We ate dinner with mom and dad. I can’t recall what it was as my mind is elsewhere. All day long this intense feeling of gloom hung over me. It is like in those fantasy movies where people can see your aura. If mine were to appear it would show as a black shroud. There is something out there watching us, it is pure evil. Why in the hell, not a good choice of words, am I so calm? It is not fatalism like I know I am going to die or something like that. The calm is from a sense I have that I’m in charge. This voice is pure evil that I know but it can’t hurt me unless I let it. I’m not going to do that. Somehow I am confident I can beat this thing. My gut tells me all these implanted ideas are to establish fear. The entity feeds on fear and if he does not get it he grows weaker. Okay that makes sense so don’t show him how scared shitless I am. Now there is a plan.
Mom tried to recruit us to an evening of chat and television viewing. I’m not into that strategizing is on the menu for tonight. We begged out of it using the excuse of homework. We have a lot of homework which always buys me private time. Andréa and I will hang out in my room. We need to scarf up some threads for Andréa if she is going to play me tomorrow. I am going to work on convincing the girl she needs to wear jeans. I hoped she learned a lesson today about the power of skirts. You have to wield it only at crucial moments. Moments like the times you are troweling.
Andi is simply eating up the compliments from mom and dad. She looked long and hard at me with a shit eating grin when mom suggested she talk me into dressing nicer. I could see dad gulp. He is on my side preferring his girl in jeans. The pressure only comes from one side. Divide and conquer so they say. I have learned to shut off the voice. At least I think I have and I suspect sooner than later I will be testing my theory.
We girls are pressed into service helping mom with cleanup including of course the dishes. Andréa and mom seem to becoming best friends. My observation or imagining of this notion rises a bit of jealousy. Before we escaped to the confines of my room for the dreaded homework I used the time convincing mom Andréa should stay through the weekend. I’m terrified of what will happen to her if she is allowed to stay at her house alone.
It was not a hard sell proving much easier than talking Andréa out of skirts for tomorrow. “Didn’t you get enough leers for one day?”
“Jean I like being a girl even if it isn’t real. Let me milk this for one more day. Tomorrow is Halloween we are supposed to dress up in costume.”
Why do I get the feeling she is trying to take over my life? I do not say any more deciding to go along with it for one more day. After what seemed hours of trashing my closet I finally got her to agree on something. Andréa looked simply smashing in a modest outfit. She accepted my insistence on a heather colored simple pleated wool skirt reaching her knees. The cream colored oxford blouse fit perfectly. She bitched a bit about the white knee socks and black flats. My final comment on the subject settled her. “Andi I know looking good and attention is something you crave. As you found out today we girls are surrounded by assholes and idiots. You have to play defense at all times.”
With that I donned my flannel pajamas and she another sexy sleep shirt. We hugged and then crashed for what hopefully will be a night of blissful sleep.
Next Chapter 6 Andréa: Halloween Not Just Another Day
Rights reserved by author
I roll out of bed noticing my breast forms feel a bit snug. ‘Why in hell did I wear these to bed? That was stupid,’ Jean is staring at me as she sits on the bed wearing her pajamas laughing.
“God what a pussy, you love your tits so much you kept the falsies on all night.” She reaches over placing her hand on my bare leg. Her fingers splay against an exposed thigh caused when my sleep shirt pulled up under me as I sat forward.
‘What is she doing?’ That is my first thought as I jump up rushing to the bathroom. I look down to see what changes occurred overnight. I feel like my nether region is stretched out. I reach down touching my bottom to experience an over sensitive strange tingle. The sensation definitely suggests something is off. My crease is spreading furrowing deeper. My legs shock me appearing smoother curved in a way they should not revealing a far more feminine affect. I step into the shower realizing I left my clothes on the bed. “Jean,” I call unsure if I should do so. “Will you bring in my clothes? I forgot them.” As the water cascades over me I hear the door open. Jean’s fingers are seen over the top of the rod sliding the curtain back. “Jean what are you doing? You are naked. I will be out in a minute.”
“You asked me to bring in your clothes remember,”
I see a glint in her eyes as she steps into the shower. “Why waste water,” she murmurs as she stands there too close for my comfort. “Let me wash your back then you can do mine.”
This is not like Jean at all she is scaring me. I turn to face her with a wary eye. Whack! she kisses me. It is the same kiss we exchanged before that nearly set me on fire. I step back my eyes must have betrayed my shock. Jean maintains her soft gaze as she touches my breasts forms. It sends a shiver through me as I sense a nipple tightening. What the hell is she doing?
“Holy shit,” she exclaims, “You felt that.”
“Of course I did you squeezed my tit.” I started laughing at the sound of my stupid statement.
“Andréa you felt it. I mean there is a definite reaction. Plastic nipples are not supposed to go taut like that. You can’t deny you felt a tingle and it was not from your chest yielding from forms pulling. It was from the cute little button there.”
In horror of her meaning I tried to deny it but the brat continued to kneed my buttons. Now I’m whimpering almost feeling like I am about to explode. I generate a forced rebuttal Jean appeared to take as a denial of what I felt. She keeps it up until my knees feel like they are about to buckle. Jean suddenly slaps my bare butt and laughs. It is like she suddenly came to her senses knowing she is going too far.
“I’m only teasing go ahead and finish your shower. I will get out of here and leave you alone.”
It was over she skips out of the shower sliding the curtain in place like nothing happened. I hear the bathroom door close. Now I’m standing here enjoying the warm water wary as even more tingling is generating from my body. It is almost erotic. Well it is erotic. To make it worse I begin to fantasize over my dream girl in the other room. I hurry knowing Jean has to shower as well and I don’t want to use up her time or all the hot water. I should have let her stay. What is the big deal?
When I enter the bedroom Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed feet dangling covered by only a towel wrapped around her. “It is about time. What happened to your forms?”
“I’m wearing them,” I answered. “You saw them.” She bounces off the bed dropping her towel revealing her perfect rear. She turns to face me which excites the Andy inside. ‘Christ Jean what is happening to you?’ I think.
“You are not wearing your forms, those are real babe,” Jean replied in a teasing voice.
Without waiting for an answer she disappears behind the bathroom door. Now I’m left sitting on the bed wearing nothing but panties and a bra insisting to myself “I am wearing them.” I must have said that out loud because I hear a voice behind a closed door.
“No you’re not.”
I can’t help it I must take these off to convince myself. I know, I’ll throw them at jean when she steps out. That will get her attention. I remove my B-cup bra shocked when I see the label. B-cup I went to bed wearing an A-cup. What is going on? I reach for the glue remover. Yeah glue remover. I’m a guy how do I know what this shit is called? I squeeze the tube along the edges like I did every time before except something isn’t right. Some of the remover is spilled on my left tit and the cold sends shivers through me causing a loud, “eep.” I hear Jean’s voice.
“Quit playing with yourself I will be right out to take care of your need.”
I can hear her laughing as it drowns out my silent screams. These things won’t come off and those nipples are rock hard.
“Holy shit your girls have grown a full size over night. Let me see.” The expression on Jean’s face tells me I’m in trouble. She wastes no time dropping herself onto the bed so close her shoulder presses against mine. I can’t turn my eyes from her she is so beautiful. Again Jean reaches out touching my nipples tracing her fingers against each. She touches first my left then the right slowly, tenderly. I fight to refrain from whimpering I am on fire when she pulls pack.
“Still not dressed Andréa, I don’t blame you a guy has to explore residual effects caused by his magic forms. Are you convinced yet?”
“Jean this is scaring the hell out of me what is going on?”
“I have no idea love but I have to check.”
Again I am shocked I comply as she orders me to stand up. She hooks her fingers one hand on each hip under the band of my panties. In one swift move I feel them fall to the floor. My eyes fix on hers transmitting unspoken words that would have said, “What the fuck are you doing?” She falls to her knees before me staring.
“Jesus you have definite Venus mounds, Christ Andrew what did you do? Don’t answer don’t move.”
Frozen in place her fingers pry into my nether area. The area I refuse to view. Suddenly I’m shaking. My knees begin to crumble when her fingers hit something causing an earthquake. I fall back on the bed as Jean begins to laugh.
“That Sanctuary place did a number on you. Andrew is no more. Andi I have to go there to find out what the hell is going on.”
I interrupt her accusing, “Sure you want to get an appendage to do permanent damage to the new girl.”
Jean interrupts her giggling by confessing, “I’d like nothing better than that. To get you in a family way absolves me of squeezing out rug rats myself. You can do that. I promise to make an honest woman out of you. I do love you. Look at the time,” she suddenly interrupts herself by a convenient shift. “We have to get out of here.”
“Hold on I have finish dressing.” That is when the pile of clothes comes into my view terrifying me. “Jean, how in hell am I going to get away with this? We cannot present as two Jean Phillips at school.” She squeezes my wrist leading me toward the dressing table dropping those frilly clothes next to me.
“Andréa did you forget or did you chicken out? You are Jean and I’m Andrew for today. Remember I want to see if I can get away faking maleness. This is test for tonight at Sanctuary. You my dear girl make yourself pretty I need to put on the finishing touches.”
Jean turns to rummage through her dresser while I sit there staring at my pile. Finally I begin by slipping on a dark silky camisole its sexy fabric excites my girls. Next I cover it by buttoning up a cream colored oxford cloth blouse leaving the top two buttons open. I’ve seen this effect on girls when they allow their camisole to show through. I step into a lacy white half slip again feeling a sensual tremor. I sit quietly watching Jean primp doing something to her hair then return to my task at hand. My skirt, the heather wool pleated knee length skirt is stepped into covering my lacy undergarment. I am almost ready when I brush aside my chestnut bangs placing tiny gold maple leaf earrings then let the hair fall back. “Done,” I squeak while holding back a frightening discovery my ears are pierced.
My girlfriend rushes over to hug me. She stares with an appreciative gaze and I feel as if whatever I’ve done I look good.
I am sitting on the edge of my bed when I feel the mattress move. It is Andréa stirring tied up in the sheets I laugh as she fights with her night shirt knotted around her. She is pulling on her falsies which make me laugh louder. I could not resist my comment that must have sounded rather mean. I could not help myself. “God what a pussy, you love your tits so much you kept the falsies on all night.” I leaned over to reassure her by placing my hand on her bare leg. Something strange came over me as I absently splayed my fingers against her exposed thigh.
Andi appeared rightfully alarmed even I could not explain my out of bounds behavior. It must have freaked her as Andréa ran like a scared deer to the toilet. She is gone like forever I must have really freaked her out. Resolving to present my best manners I waited for her to come out. About ten minutes later I hear her call, “Will you bring in my clothes I forgot them.”
I step off the bed picking up her clothes that mom neatly hung up. I included new packages of panties and a bra. I must confess I am wrapped in a towel having intended to grab a shower but Andi beat me to it. As I pick up the clothes almost reaching the bathroom door the towel falls away. With my hands full I did not bother to pick it up. I never could get the hang of the female towel wrap.
The only way I can get the door open is to push it with my foot. It pops open and I hear Andi freaking out. I slide the curtain back forgetting I am naked to hear, “Jean what are you doing? You are naked I will be out in a minute.”
Shit I did it again, freak out my only friend twice in a half hour. Now she is staring at me like I’m an ax murder Anthony Perkins reincarnated. I drop the school clothes on the stool to see Andi looking upon them like strange objects she has never seen before.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
I shrugged answering, “You asked me to bring in your clothes remember,” I have this strange feeling from somewhere I cannot explain. This compulsion is directing me to do the dumbest thing. It restarts when I open my mouth. “Why waste water,” I say teasingly drawing close to Andi. I sense her tensing so I offer “Let me wash your back then you can do mine.” In a playful mood my fingers gently caress her bare back and she turns. I swear I did not plan this as I kissed her. It was not one of those friendly pecks you give another girl. It is the same kiss we exchanged before that nearly caused a five alarm fire.
I can see her fear as she steps back but again I feel like I am possessed. I reach out to touch her breasts forms not understanding why in hell she is wearing them in the shower. Andi shivers as if she felt the touch and I know you won’t believe it but I can see as plain as day her nipple tightening. “Holy shit,” I yell, “You felt that!” Her response seemed idiotic when she answered.
“Of course I did you squeezed my tit.”
Then she starts that school girl nervous laugh like she is trying to hide abject fear. That fucking annoying voice goes off in my head saying, ‘take her, take her.’ I push it back deep inside wherever it came from. “Andréa you felt it. I mean there is a definite reaction. Plastic nipples are not supposed to go taut like that. You can’t deny it you felt a tingle and it was not on your chest caused by the form pulling. It was from the cute little button there.”
Andréa tried to deny it while I continued to kneed her nipples while that voice emitted a hideous laugh. Andréa is whimpering while I am fighting off an invisible monster. I am beginning to hate myself. I can see her beginning to surrender as the voice eggs me on. ‘Fuck you’ I yell in my head and suddenly pat Andréa’s bare butt laughing. My attempt to break the spell apparently worked because whatever it is shut the fuck up. I did not want to scare her anymore than she is so I chalked my actions up to kidding around. I doubt she believed it I wouldn’t “I’m only teasing go ahead and finish your shower. I will get out of here and leave you alone.”
I stepped out of the shower closing the curtain going back into the bed room. I managed to do the female towel wrap and sat on the bed waiting for Andréa to come out so I can take my shower. Several minutes later she comes out of the bathroom. I ask her about those weird breasts forms. “It’s about time. What happened to your forms?”
“I’m wearing them,” she answered adding “You saw them.”
In response I bounce off the bed and once again my towel drops off. I am always messing this towel tie up. To hell with it, I pick up the towel slipping it under my arm. I reach for the bathroom door as Andréa sits on the edge on the bed wearing nothing but panties and bra. I stare blankly at Andréa as I’m still bothered by her fake tits. “I will try again what happened to your forms? You are not wearing plastic those are real babe.”
Without waiting for an answer I step into the bathroom as I close the door I hear her say.
“I am wearing them.”
Before turning on the water I shout, “No you’re not.” Even with the water running I can hear her sorting her clothes complaining about something. I’m still in one of those moods so I shout.
“Quit playing with yourself I will be right out to take care of your need.” It is yet one more forced comment I did not make by myself.
When I finally finish and walk into the room I cannot believe what I am seeing. “Holy shit those girls of yours grown a full size over night. Let me see.” In total disbelief I sit next to her. I can feel her shoulder pressing against mine. I can’t turn my eyes from her she is so beautiful. Here goes that voice again my head feels like it is going to explode. ‘Touch her, touch her, don’t be a pussy be a man she is begging for you to act.’
My fingers reach toward Andréa who does not move. ‘I told you’ goes off in my head. ‘Shut up!’ I want to scream. Her nipples are so soft so pliable so lovely. I trace each one with my nails and feel Andréa purring. Suddenly an urge to suckle is fought off by my resolution to tell whoever is in my head to fuck off. I am fighting this turmoil while Andréa sits there in a state of confusion still in only panties and bra. She finally speaks
“Jean this is scaring the hell out of me what is going on?”
“I have no idea love but I have to check.”
I pull her to her feet again doing something I have little control over. I hook my fingers one hand on each hip under the band of Andréa’s panties. In one swift move they fall to the floor. My eyes fix on hers with a feeling of lust.
Andréa demands, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Silently I fall to my knees saying. “Jesus you have definite Venus mounds, Christ Andrew what did you do? Don’t answer don’t move.” I touch her nether area as she trembles with fear and anticipation. Once again the voice is strong ordering me to violate my best friend. My fingers touch her clitoris causing a definite sexual tension. ‘Use your tongue’ the voice demands. ‘Go to hell,’ I reply. I gently push Andréa back on the bed and laugh as I fall to the floor. I hear myself say, “That Sanctuary place did a number on you. Andrew is no more and I have to go there to find out what the hell is going on.”
Andréa said something that went right over my head, something about growing an appendage. Is that it? Is this some kind of wicked game an evil entity is playing on us? I will not comply. I am stronger than this. I concentrate real hard sending a message. ‘Okay asshole I know what your game is. Bring it on so I can kick your sorry ass. What nothing to say? As I thought you are nothing but a fucking coward.’ I turn to Andréa again using a soft joking tone. “Still not dressed I don’t blame you a guy has to explore trying out what his magic forms caused. Are you convinced yet?”
I can read Andréa‘s fear in her voice. “Jean this is scaring the hell out of me what is going on?”
Somewhere down deep there are battle lines being drawn and I’m short on holy water crucifixes, garlic and silver bullets. This is the way I react under stress like I did when Jennifer ruined my reputation. My reaction is to pull my shields up. I’m still isolated from everybody. Only recently I took a risk letting Andi into my private safe space. Shaken by my strange behavior I’m imaging voices to deny I’m lusting over a girl. Andréa did nothing for me when she was Andrew Lyons. But now, I have this urgent need to make love to her. This is not me so I manufacture demons to excuse my behavior.
Andréa says something right out of left field like the demon is in her head as he’s in mine. “Sure you want to get an appendage to do permanent damage to the new girl.”
God how little Andréa knows that’s exactly what the entity wants and I have no idea why. I do know that I love Andrew Lyons and he is lost to me forever. There is little doubt Andréa is here permanently. If growing an appendage is what I need to do to love Andrew that is what I must do. “I’d like nothing better than that. To get you in a family way absolves me of squeezing out rug rats myself. You can do that. I promise to make an honest woman out of you. I do love you. Look at the time; we have to get out of here.” I think my wise ass comment fell flat as Andréa changed the subject like she never heard me.
Andréa interrupts “Hold on I have finish dressing. Jean how in hell am I going to get away with this? We cannot present two Jean Phillips at school.”
I squeeze her wrist leading Andréa toward the dressing table dropping those frilly clothes next to her.
“Andréa did you forget or did you chicken out. You are Jean and I’m Andrew for today. Remember I want to see if I can get away faking maleness. This is test for tonight at Sanctuary. You my dear girl make yourself pretty I need to put on the finishing touches.”
I watch Andréa until she claims she is done. I rush over to hug her confused as to which one of us is the girlfriend. I stare at Andréa beholding quite an image. The wool pleated skirt appears heavenly against her skin conservative enough to cover flesh above her knees. It is the school’s legal limit. The cream oxford is perfect to accentuate her appealing breasts.
It was not easy getting out the door without mom spotting my hair do. Andréa laughed her butt off when she saw it after I removed my ball cap in the car. It worked just as it did yesterday. I managed to comb it out making it appear like Andrew’s before his changes. The good news is my A-cups are small enough to hide under this bulky sweater. The Wranglers I’m wearing appear to be the same as Andy’s so everything is cool so far. Andréa shifts into drive pulling out into traffic like a pro. It fascinates me to watch how smoothly she manages the stick. My eyes are focused on those legs. ‘Geeze ’parker’ your legs never looked that good. And those tits God they are amazing.’ I froze on the latter thought. It was not mine I don’t use that word. I catch a glimpse of an evil grin in the rearview mirror. I know that face but the clown does not know I know. He is watching me and I don’t back down.
He is transmitting again telling me in another night Andréa becomes pregnant because I am going to screw her brains out. I simply stare into the mirror flipping him off. “Hey Andréa, do you remember what that Troy asshole looked like?” She passes a glance like I’m crazy then describes the guy in the mirror. I flip him off again concentrating. ‘Gotcha asshole he who shall not be named is fingered. Told ya I get ya. I know one other thing fool. You jokers feed on fear. In case you don’t know I’m laughing at you. Do yourself a favor before all your friends in hell point and laugh. Get lost.’ I look in the mirror to see he is gone. Who the fuck am I kidding I’m scared shitless.
Andréa is beyond quiet as we near the school. “What’s wrong Phillips has the cat got your tongue?” I see her blinking and I know what that means she is deep thought. “Lyons, spill” I command. Instead of answering she pulls to the curb.
“Remember we switched places? Shouldn’t you be driving Andrew’s car? You are pretending to be me.” Andréa gets out of the car walking around to my side. I pop into the driver’s seat as Andrew slides into the passenger’s side. I stifle a giggle watching Andrew smooth Andréa’s skirt. I repeat myself, “Lyons, spill.”
“Jean they are trying to screw us over.”
“Who,” I nearly demand, “Who is trying to screw us over?”
“That Sanctuary house and I know you know that is why you asked about Troy isn’t it?”
Now it is my turn to blink as I rest my fingers on her sexy knee, this time it is not Troy doing it. She has a fantastic knee. “What are you talking about?”
“It is Troy; he came to me in my sleep. He said he is going to seal my fate. He said you will grow a big stick that I will worship and bear his children.”
“Don’t worry about it; it is just a stupid dream. I’ll kick his ass for you if that’s what it takes.” She appeared to settle down though her gaze remains doubtful. Just as we pulled into St. Michaels’ lot I saw more trouble. Dave Bemis is sitting there watching us. Dave is Jennifer’s brother and I can only guess what he wants. “There is your big dick Andréa standing right there.”
I notice Dave Bemis sitting on a bench looking like he wants to say something. I glance to my friend Jean noting her anxiety. She walks around the car wearing her Andrew costume opening the door for me. Good I need the help sliding out avoiding flashing anyone as my skirt wants to lift. Getting my hands in the right place to smooth it is not an easy task. For girls it is a learned trait coming naturally. They have committed this act forever. Lyon’s takes my hand smiling. Okay I know Jean’s name is Phillips but right now she appears to be Lyons. His touch feels great; I could grow to like this. “Don’t worry,” I say, “you can pull off being me. Nobody talks to me ever so being ignored makes this easy.” The new Andrew laughs.
“You my dear girl are in for a shock. That outfit you are wearing will set a record number of erections. As Jean I may have been ignored but babe you have made yourself a prime target. I will stay close. Not that I am such a good guy I’m counting on all the cred little Andrew Lyons is about to receive.”
My first mistake almost happened when I walked straight to Andrew’s locker. Jean being the sharper of the two took my arm and kissed me in the hall. I think everybody for three miles saw that creating quite a stir. I am about to protest when I discovered I am facing the opposite row of lockers. Right there is Jean’s locker on the other side of the hall from mine. “I get it, smooth move.”
I can feel Jean’s hands gently push me forward as she whispers. “Andréa that kiss is more for Lyons than for the most beautiful girl in school known as you. Think what that kiss will do for poor little Andrew’s standing.” I laugh trying to remember her combination as my painted nails twist the dial. I grab a few books sensing every eye in on me. My friend is quickly at my side taking my hand as we walked to class. There is no mistake to all watching the new Andrew Lyons is making a statement.
Every class seemed the same except every eye is on me. There are none of the school princesses in honors classes through more than one of the girls in here is cute. Those cute girls appear horrified that plain quiet shunned Jean Phillips suddenly demolished their cute standing as she flew right by them. Having been a guy all my life I quickly learned what those stares represent. It is not admiration it is envy. Regarding the looks from guys, oh yeah I know what that is about. To tell the truth I love it. I’m sitting back enjoying the power.
Jean is not playing by the rules. Her Andrew persona is sitting next to me in every class. Then in the cafeteria after he walked me down the hall his hand splayed on my hip showing ownership he sits with me at Jean’s private table. I know some of this is my fault. I could have pushed that hand away at any time but I wanted it there. My mind is screaming not nice descriptive words in my head. I don’t care after a life time of being ignored I love the attention even if it is turned upside down.
We no sooner sat down to eat when the shit hit the fan. Lisa Marino and Sally Brockton plunk down their top ten butts at our table. The rule is nobody sits at either of our tables. It is bad enough Andrew’s table is vacant because he is the first to break the rule. I think it was Lisa who spoke but it might have been both of them in unison. I could tell by Jean’s or should I say Lyon’s expression she is stunned as well.
“I am so sorry Jean for how you’ve been treated when all along it was that evil bitch Jennifer.”
We both looked at the girls having no clue. They could read our expressions thankfully clearing up their spontaneous soliloquy.
“You don’t know it’s all over the internet. I bet Jennifer is gone into hiding. Her brother Dave found her diary explaining how she shafted you because she wanted a guy who liked you. She called you the permanent ice virgin. Told how you ran away when O’Riley tried to have sex with you in the back seat. Then he posted pictures of Jennifer giving head to Jerry while Mark is screwing her. There are more pictures showing the guys switched places. Jennifer wrote how she had half the senior class.”
I could see Dave sitting across the room smiling. He waved at me but I looked the other way. Jean in the Andrew persona recovered rather quickly as she said to the girls. “I could have told you Jean would never do those things. Nobody listens to me.”
The day went fairly well thankfully the real Jean was at my side the entire time. She had to bail me out more than few times. As we are walking back to the car Jean can’t resist teasing.
“Andréa how many guys hit on you for dates?”
“Lyons at last count it was a dozen. I’ll tell them the same thing I’m telling you. I cannot date anyone because my boyfriend won’t allow it. He is pretty possessive. That Andrew Lyons has stolen my heart and that’s all there is to it.” What reaction did I get? As we reached the car Jean’s hand presses firmly on my rear. Our lips meet in another passionate kiss. I can hear kids cheering. One voice calls out, “I didn’t know you had balls Lyons”
So I had my doubts we could pull this off for a second day. I really did but we managed once again. Do we have to keep doing this? I know deep down it is going to come to a bad end. My feelings were under control most of the time. That freak of a voice stayed away. I doubt I scared him off. I worry that he may have already caused the damaged he set out to do. For Christ sake, look at Andréa. If she is not a permanent fully functioning girl then none of us are. What about me am I going to grow that ugly appendage? Not if I have anything to say about it. For awhile I thought I wanted to be a guy because of the way these pigs treat us girls. I thought I’d be one of the good guys. I look at Andréa begging they give me the right equipment. At once I realize that it is not what I want. I am Jean Marie Phillips daughter of Luke and Marie Phillips, the best parents in the world. I’m not giving that up for Andréa or the freak in my head.
Before you think I’m going all girly drop that wrong idea. I’m not about to go through nine months of discomfort only to have some blob rip my innards apart. I’m not about to become Andréa’s lover either. I could if Andrew came back, I think. The idea of playing with somebody’s nipples and doing other alien acts does not work for me. Yeah, right now I fucked up and got caught in somebody’s nightmare. They don’t know who they are messing with. I’ve gone through four years of living hell and they could not break me. “Do you hear that asshole? Bring it on you are toast.”
“What did you say?”
It’s the chick in the passenger’s seat the one with the tits and legs to die for. I only have one answer. “Nothing Andréa, nothing at all.”
I rush to my room with Andi following close behind. My hands move rapidly shoving hangers along the bar looking for the outfits Bess gave me. I pull the hangers tossing them onto my bed as Andréa’s eyes widen though she remains silent. I’m aiming for the Dark Star skirt fully understanding irony attached to its name. ‘Are you getting this Troy?’
The skirt slips seductively over my slip and boy shorts. Do I have to tell you boy shorts are panty briefs for girls who object to constantly pulling that irritating thong out of her crack? Back to the skirt, it is made by somebody called Dark Star. It is a black leather skater skirt with a double pointed yoke front and back, plus some chic vertical seaming. The high waisted fit enhances my almost nothing sized middle. I confess I am a size four and feel smug about it. Again my legs look fabulous; they scare me I have not seen them exposed in a long time. By that I mean hanging out there for all to see because my jeans do hide them. It is unsettling to say the least.
One look at my babe self and all the guys go into heat. I reach for one of those nice styled blouses with a sewn in cami. The blouse is an oxford material that buttons halfway down to the waist. The body is pink while the open top reveals a lighter pink underneath. I have to admit it is really nice and goes great with the Borg’s skirt. I slip the blouse over my head after all with only half buttons it is a pull over. Now I have to brush my hair as Andi’s eyes spin in over drive. I ask Andi to toss me a cardigan sweater either black like the skirt or perhaps navy. Sometimes I have a hard time distinguishing between the two.
“What do you need that for,” Andréa questions.
I stand there knowing the vision in the mirror is not one who could possibly sport a tool capable of impregnating my unsuspecting friend who stands next to me. For the first time since forever I feel spectacular. The confidence grows as I roll on a pair of sexy feeling black tights. Andréa is still gawking. “What do I need this outfit for? Battle my dear Andréa. We are fighting a war.”
Next Chapter 7 The Narrator: All Souls or Saints Day
Rights reserved by author
The narrator of this story has remained silent for too long letting Andi and Jean describe their progression through a tangled web. There is a point when an interested observer must step forward to inform readers about events unknown to our protagonists. The twin sisters born of different mothers may be on a collision course with fate unaware. A good story teller is not going to spill the beans, however sometimes he has to inform or warn the reader outside events plot to trip up our heroines.
It is appropriate to acknowledge those hidden desires belonging to Andrew Lyons may not have been his desires. The same can be said for his twin sister Jean Phillips. They are not twins by birth or even related. The narrator said too much informing readers outside forces are manipulating events. It is appropriate to note the date when Andy attends school presenting as Andréa It is not a coincidence it began the day before Halloween. Let me remind you who the forces of intervention represent.
Making jack-o'-lanterns at Halloween sprung from Samhain and Celtic beliefs. Turnip lanterns, sometimes with faces carved into them, were made on Samhain in the 19th century in parts of Ireland and the Scottish Highlands. As well as being used to light one's way while outside on Samhain night, they may also have been used to represent the spirits and fairies and or to protect oneself and one's home from them. Another legend is that a trickster named Jack decided one day to trick the Devil. He trapped the Devil in a pumpkin parading him around town. Eventually, Jack let the Devil out and the Devil put a curse on Jack forever making him a spirit in hell. On Halloween, Jack is released to terrorize the country all night. To protect themselves, the Irish would place a pumpkin with a face outside to scare Jack into believing it is the Devil.
We of modern times may discount the beliefs of the past. The narrator warns do not take chances on this ghostly night. Because you survive the hallows the next day can be even more threatening. We often forget the night of all souls.
Now for the pagan connection: Nov. 1 marked Samhain, the beginning of the Celtic winter. The Celts lived as early as 2,000 years ago in England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and northern France. Samhain, for whom the feast was named, was the Celtic lord of death, and his name literally meant “summer’s end.” Since winter is the season of cold, darkness and death, the Celts soon made the connection with human death. The eve of Samhain, Oct. 31, was a time of Celtic pagan sacrifice, and Samhain allowed the souls of the dead to return to their earthly homes that evening. Ghosts, witches, goblins, and elves came to harm the people, particularly those who had inflicted harm on them in this life. Cats too were considered sacred because they had once been human beings who had been changed as a punishment for their evil deeds on this earth.
To protect themselves from marauding evil spirits on the eve of Samhain, the people extinguished their hearth fires and the Druids the priests and spiritual teachers of the Belts built a huge new year's bonfire of sacred oak branches. The Druids offered burnt sacrifices, crops, animals, even humans and told fortunes of the coming year by examining the burned remains. People sometimes wore costumes of animal heads and skins. From this new fire, the home hearths were again ignited.
Particular ethnic groups developed their own lore which was merged with the celebration. In Ireland, people held a parade in honor of Muck Olla, a god. They followed a leader dressed in a white robe with a mask from the head of an animal, and begged for food. The Scots walked through fields and villages carrying torches and lit bonfires to ward off witches and other evil spirits. In Wales, every person placed a marked stone in the huge bonfire. If a person's stone could not be found the next morning, he would die within a year.
Besides the Celtic traditions in place, the Roman conquest of Britain in AD 43 brought two other pagan feasts: Feralia was held in late October to honor the dead. Another Autumn festival honored Pomona, the goddess of fruits and trees; probably through this festival, apples became associated with Halloween. Elements of these Roman celebrations were combined with the Celtic Samhain. With the spread of Christianity and the establishment of All Saints Day, some of these pagan customs remained in the English speaking world for All Hallows Eve or Halloween, All Saints Eve, perhaps at first more out of superstition and later, more out of fun. Nevertheless, All Saints Day clearly arose to be a Christian devotion.
Questions abound dear reader they are piling up for this narrator. Did poor Andrew who is hopelessly in love with Jean suddenly change focus by himself to become Jean’s replica? Is it possible an imp or demon lurks in the weeds playing tricks? What of Jean, Do you accept this pretty girl is thrown into denial wishing to be a boy because of one incident? Granted that one incident may be powerful enough to frighten a fragile young woman. Jean Phillips appears anything but fragile. Cause and effect you might say. Manipulate an incident by spiraling it into years of torment and the girl become putty in a jokester’s hands. There might be something to that. We have to consider Jean is simply a tool. Is it Jean becomes the catalysts in Troy’s evil plan? She would be a perfect carrier for the Trickster’s vile stem. A girl who wants to be a boy in the same bed as her new vulnerable love? The follower of Samhain will have two nights to implement his scheme if the narrator is guessing correctly. We will let events guide us to discovery. After all, my instructions are clear. Provide this author’s readers some clues and get out of the way. Few among us can accept a pretty girl longs to be a boy without a demonic influence driving it.
The narrator’s watch follows Yuri Beekman into the Sanctuary office. Yuri is district supervisor assigned to this unit of an organization founded by the Renovators. Every year a number of Sanctuary houses are established to trap spirits intending to harm unsuspecting innocents. The houses spring up at random every October during the early days of the month only to disappear on November 2nd. An organization of benevolent beings is dedicated to trap evil wherever they find it. Over time many have tried but no one has documented their origin. During All Hallows Eve and All Souls Day danger is at its apex. Beekman approaches his unit manager he calls Bela.
“Bella I have discovered your security has been breached as it had last year in Budapest. Do you recall what happened there? Do I need to remind you of the feeding frenzy at the hands of Vlad and his followers?”
The elder man resembling Hollywood’s early vampire looked cross at his boss. “Please I ask you once again sir stop with the Bella reference it is demeaning. My name is Helmut Belagosi. Yes I too am from Rumania there is no similarity with the actor beyond that. What is this about? A breach, there is nothing to indicate in our system a breach occurred.”
Yuri frowns producing a computer print out sheet noting several incidents of tampering. “Last week you allowed a boy to infiltrate using one of the passes issued by our system. He posed as a girl and was allowed full access to the Relaxation area. You remember we spoke of this yesterday? He was assigned a guide who is an evil spirit. The guide went by the name of Troy attempting to seduce his victim he turned into a girl. Yes the evil leader of this demonic clan was here. The jokester is planning irreparable harm as we speak. He has also been planting seeds into the mind of another child this one a female. He must enact his plan in two stages. Tonight is when he prepares his victim to receive his vile seed. Tomorrow he will mutilate his chosen tool to enable her to inject that same seed into the host.”
Helmut responds in a trembling voice, “But sir we had no idea who his victims are.”
“My dear Bella do you forget so soon? The pretty girl named Andréa? His name is Andrew, Andrew Lyons. The feminine persona was created in our own chamber. Troy tormented him for days planting a desire in his mind a compulsion to become a female. The lad took your invitation to Sanctuary house knowing he could create the illusion of an ideal female. Somehow his female presence escaped the planned seduction. I fear the child is in danger. Our agents went to his home but could not locate him. There is no telling what the prankster has in store for the lad. We can guess it will involve serious sexual overtones with devilish results.”
Helmut is at full alert suggesting Troy must be lurking inside our electronic system somewhere “He needs the energy to feed. Should we shut down the systems sir?”
Yuri shakes his head, “No that will release several demons we have trapped. We must search each file trying to locate where Troy is hiding to bleach it. That will secure the trap and hopefully put an end to the evil. His favorite game is impregnation of boys turning them into females carrying his seed. As you know a demon seed once planted cannot be purged. Think Bella, who is it the boy replicated. Who is his ideal female?”
“According to the video captures on file he appears to be a twin to a Miss Jean Phillips.” Helmut smiles as he sees a germ of recognition in his boss’ eyes.
“Of course Bella the Trickster must have them together to enact his plan. Send your agents to the Phillips’ house. Have them watch for the Trickster tonight. The girls are on their way here invited by the evil demon. He intends upon seduce them in our house to prove we are powerless against him. Miss Phillips is his tool. He will find a wary tough Ms. Phillips who appears alerted to danger, she is much more than he knows.”
Bella’s eyes widen surprised by Beekman’s comment. “Sir you explained how the Trickster has implanted desires into the girl to use her as his tool. Yet you say she is wary and likely to present an unplanned surprise. No human has bested this particular demon over the centuries. You dare suggest this teenaged girl presents a problem for him. Sir I mean no disrespect but what you say is rather shocking.”
“My dear Bella when Ms Phillips arrives at our door step please observe how she is dressed. The young woman is defiant showing no fear. The Trickster will have you believe she desires manly features. She has a hunger driving her to posses Miss Lyons. If that is so why then does she appear so feminine? The Trickster’s implant appears to have missed its mark. I might suggest there is more to Ms. Phillips than any of us suspect. My good man make our humble establishment appear less inviting to little girls who are about to reach our doorstep. The Boss for some reason decided the battle should be waged elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere Sir? But we lose the ability to trap the Trickster.”
“I know Bella as you are aware the Boss works in mysterious ways.”
I rode shotgun while Andréa drove to this mysterious Sanctuary House. I expected serious creepy events waiting for us as I watched out the window. My head is pounding with a massive migraine. Nobody had to tell me my boy Troy is busily at work planning his attack. The further we drove the more uncertain I became and the more I wanted to scream get me out of here. I know one thing this freak whoever he is will not go away even if we turn and run. In fact I reasoned the opposite is true this sucker feeds on fear. I will not give him that.
“Jean you are awfully quiet. I might add for somebody who said she wanted to fake being a guy you screwed it up before you even started. Look at you, you are a frigging princess.”
“It’s all part of the plan. Have you got any heat in this car? It is freezing in here?” Before she could answer the voice interrupted. ‘It is only my presence you feel my future young man. Did you think wearing a skirt would change anything? Those legs you tease me with only serve to drive my desire to screw you both. Two little bitches impregnated with my seed. One becomes my eternal concubine while the other raises my seed. Ha, Ha, Ha you will be begging for me to split you’re tight pussy. You know you cannot run.’
One would think I’d be terrified with that shit going on in my head. I dare say you’d be right but I’m wise to this fake. At least I tell myself this. It is what keeps me going. Otherwise I’d be on my knees begging which feeds his frenzy. Go ahead kill me that’s what it will take. Fuck it you will not control me. I don’t tell him that instead he gets this. ‘Right asshole, if you could do that you would have done it. But you can’t because you are impotent nothing more than a eunuch who gets off via voyeurism.’ I hear this bloody scream splitting my head. I swear it felt like my head is going to explode. Nobody accused me of being bright. ‘It looks like I hit a nerve so fuck off asshole.’ Silence, total silence until Andréa spoke.
“Jean Sanctuary House is up ahead. We are here but the place is not right.” I am tuned to Andréa’s vibes as she points to a dilapidated run down scary version of the Bates Hotel. We get out of the car to stare at the two story old house all boarded up. The mists are swirling all around us refracting light from a full moon. It presents the perfect Halloween night. I feel Andréa grip my arm tight. Windows busted out more broken than whole. The porch roof is angled as if it is about to collapse. I sense Andréa’s about to freak out so I take her hand. “It looks like they went out of business. Come on lets go home. It is getting dark and nasty out here.”
“You don’t believe me do you Jean? You think I made all this up. You must think I am some kind of weirdo. How can you be so unflappable? Do you know something I do not? I have this strange feeling something evil is about and you know it. Don’t you?”
Andréa nails it she is not as clueless as I thought. I am fighting like hell trying to keep it together and I don’t need Andréa going off the deep end. I have to keep it at bay. I don’t say anything beyond a reassurance from by squeezing hand. I follow Andréa to back to the car settling into the passenger’s seat.
“Jean do you want to drive, I’m rather shaky.”
“No I don’t trust myself it feels like there is a war going on in my head, migraine.” My tormentor is silent as well perhaps that scream gave him a migraine too, I certainly hope so. I should be scared but I’m not. Call me stupid but you’d be more accurate if you called me pissed off. I am fed up with this torment by assholes. I’ve been ignored, dissed and treated like shit for the last four years. I’ve drawn a line in the sand. We read almost daily some kid killed himself because of bullying. The endless tormenting drives them suicidal. This is the point I’m at. Not suicidal, fed up choosing to fight rather than submit to yet another bully. Like it says on New Hampshire’s license plate, Live free or die. This is the place I’m at. It may not be the right move but if it is a fight bring it on sucker. We arrive back to the house where I make Andréa swear she is spending the night. I have a feeling it will be a long one.
Andréa sits nervously at the vanity she just exited the shower wearing a flimsy silk light night shirt. I said silk like, because neither of us can afford silk. She’s focusing upon the mirror playing with her hair speaking with a nervous voice. “Jean are you sure you believe me about that Sanctuary House? I feel like such a fool.”
I walk over to her offering a reassuring hug. My thoughts are troubled as events of the past few weeks pop in my head. I am hugging a very pretty girl who less than a week ago was a boy who lusted after me. To raise the ridiculous meter the girl is now my twin. I stroke Andréa’s hair gently when the sound hits. A grandfather clock bongs announcing midnight. It is unsettling because we do not own one of those clocks. Then I see him, the Trickster is in the mirror. Andréa obviously does not, thank you sweet Jesus. I pretend I do not see him deflating his attempt to shock, terrorize or whatever the freak’s intention may be. I only know I’m not getting much sleep tonight.
Andréa no sooner settled into bed reaching for the light switch when I felt my feet glued to the floor. I cannot move. My eyes shift to the mirror seeing his smiling face. There is an aura about him best described as what you see in old photographs. The oval shaped ones where there is a soft rounded edge to them. It is that rounded edge presenting a red glow encompassing his body drawing my attention. It is like he has his shields up defending a Romulan attack. He catches my stare and points to Andréa. I see her levitating a few inches above the bed. He directs with his fingers causing her shirt to fly away. He beckons as if he is motioning come here. My sister floats into the mirror its glass rippling as water. My attempt to step forward is prevented by the goo.
His next move is rather swift a sleeping Andréa settles onto the bed inside the mirror. My eyes shift to the room noting she is not on our bed. The mirror is not a reflection. Andréa is naked lying on a sheet with her legs splayed cuffed to bed posts. Troy leans in close flicking her breasts with his tongue there is a definite deepening color in his aura. Sexually sated he turns facing me, His lips moist with a white casts, ‘Milk, not possible.’ Anything is possible in this insane world. It is not a dream, I’m wide awake. Now he is beckoning me, shit I’m at bat.
I’m not floating exactly; I’m upright gliding drawing ever closer. Troy’s face is twisted as I notice his aura grows lighter. Is it because I’m laughing at him? I wonder determining I need to test this and do so rather quickly. Liquid glass is getting near almost at once the ripples yield covering me with a goo like substance, think spiderweb as I’m drawn into the other side. My feet settle on the floor several paces from him. Andréa, still sleeping is to my left, the freak in front of me. I am so ridiculously calm he appears to be coming undone, now for my test.
His aura fades a bit as he snaps his fingers causing my pajamas exploding from my body. I expected this allowing me to conceal any reaction. The aura lightens some more. His voice reveals his agitation. “On your knees bitch, bow to your master.”
Here we go again. His fixation on this master crap grows tiring. You did get it when I said I’ve had it with his childish behavior? I send him my greetings, ‘Fuck you asshole.’ Nothing, ‘are you deaf as well as retarded? I said buzz off.’ Still nothing confirming my suspicion he cannot read my thoughts. Is it due to his crumbling shields or because it takes too much energy to present in high definition?
Troy displays pure anger flicking his fingers causing an unwelcome feeling. I glance down watching a freaking penis beginning to form. “Cute freak what is your next magical trick? Now that I have what you lack you really should kneel before me.” I laugh at his growing rage he is expending all his energy.
“You will do my bidding you stupid girl. Know your place on your knees and beg my mercy.”
I notice he is keeping his distance as I step toward him he moves back. “Kneel bitch, I command you.”
This time I laugh shaking my head pushing his buttons. I need to try one more thing, it might be a very stupid move it is one I must take. I’ve noticed my penis has grown quite large and erect. As it becomes more profound his aura strengthens. It is fear from his victims and sexual responses that feed his energy. I need to redirect that. Again he commands, “On your knees surrender to your master.”
I concentrate knowing he can’t force the issue or he would have. Just like he cannot rape Andréa he needs me to do that. The little bastard is impotent as I guessed earlier. I concentrate focusing forcing my erection to shrivel. His aura responds in kind. “Big boy what is the matter you can’t get it up? You need to grow a pair.”
Wrong thing to say I can see it coming. My dodge is not quick enough but it saved me from the brunt. His hand flew forward striking my hip hard sending me flying against the wall. It hurt like hell. I smell something smoldering and see a scorch mark on my hip. Picking myself off the floor spewing several “Fuck you” comments I noticed something. His right hand is missing replaced by a burning stub hanging there. My secret weapon works. Does that idiot know his hand is gone?
“Your punishment will be to reside in hell as my concubine you stupid bitch. You dishonored your master.”
His aura has nearly disappeared. I will give him credit he is focused on his need. That works in my favor as I try to draw closer. The closer the better a couple more burned off appendages is what I need. Assuming I can survive the blows.
“Cut the crap asshole what do you want? You are beginning to bore me. If you need a favor due to your impotence then ask. We both know you can’t get it up so cut the concubine crap. I’m not impressed. Be nice or buzz off.”
The expression on his face is priceless. I’m betting I am the first crazy teenaged bitch he’s encountered. Troy’s shields are fading he must feel the pressure. I suspect he is becoming desperate. “You will impregnate that slut and you will do it know. Then I will release you.”
“Is that all, do I get to keep this weapon?” I stroke myself for effect to see his aura start to pick up. Wrong move I need to get him closer. “Bring her over here I’ll need your help.” He shakes his head, “You go to her. Kneel between her legs and drive with force.”
I find myself between Andréa’s legs my erection pointed at her prize. I need to get this asshole closer. I have to contain my rage. I suddenly discovered rage emits the same vibes as fear. The last thing I need is for this creep to gain energy. He is nothing more than a perverted voyeur. I must draw him closer. “Hey come here you need to see this. She is leaking.”
Cautiously he draws near to view his sexual voyeurism. He is not going to get what he needs. ‘Closer just a bit more, that’s it another step. That’s it!’ He is hovering over my shoulder staring at Andréa’s slit eyes wide and excited. I can see his meter starting to perk. ‘It’s now or never, here goes.’ I turn quickly diving into him wrapping my arms around his chest. My lips meet his. I want to puke. He strikes out smashing at my cheek I go flying as I see a Roman candle exploding upward followed by a piercing scream and I black out.
This is very upsetting for your narrator not being able to intercede on behalf of those poor girls. As you are well aware dear readers narrators are bound by literary rules to report only. Perhaps our ghost busters at this strange Sanctuary House can be of help.
“Bella you are going to have to follow up to see what damage has been done. Our agents report Troy has vanished likely back to the fiery pit from where he came, until next year. He is with his lord celebrating a victory. I fear we must monitor these girls placing them under a demon watch.”
“My dear Mr. Beckman shall we close down the Sanctuary now?
“No, no we must stay through the second of the month. We still have one night of activity to ward off. You are on call to go to the girl Dr. Belagosi. Do you like your new title? It will serve you well in the first hours of the morning. Check everything and bring her here if you find any sign of penetration. The Trickster enjoys his game wanting his victims to tremble with anticipation. He gets his kicks when they beg. At least the demon has fled for now to revel in his victory of planting his seed. Your agents arrived as the Trickster acted earlier than he normally does. As you said he infiltrated our system and must have been warned. We can’t have another of those human hybrids appearing on the scene now can we?”
Belagosi is seen picking up his little black bag produced out of thin air. He sits by the phone as if expecting a call. Beekman is giving orders to an agent dressed in black with no visible features. “You may have to complete a massive mind spell if the Trickster’s adjustments held. That means enacting a wide records sweep. This must be a clean operation. I’m happy to hear no other disruptions are successful in the district. It is amazing how stupid these demons are. They keep falling for the same tricks over and over again.”
Beckman escorts the agent to the next room then returns to sit next to Belagosi. “Helmut you look tired. One more day and we can rest. Have you ever thought about retirement?”
“Many times Yuri. Do you remember when we brought down Vlad the Impaler? That hybrid was particularly troublesome. The idiot actually thought he was a vampire until he ran into a real one. Ah those were the days when we were on patrol with nothing but holy water and stakes. As you must recall our tools were crude and far messier than silver bullets. At least now fighting demons with high tech tools we can relax. These freaks are as you said so stupid our tasks have become easier. There is almost no challenge to it, well until one manages to slip out like our boy Troy.”
“I know what you mean Bela.” Yuri laughs at his tease. “Lighten up old man you do look like the actor. As I said our boy Troy is a real sex freak. He likes turning boys into girls getting them pregnant. He then removes the spell that convinced them they wanted to become female. With the spell gone the new pregnant girls rage against what happened to them. Troy usually goes after the most homophobic types he can find. Their rage provides considerable fuel for him. The victims go insane blaming the Boss. They come unglued after the third or fourth abortion attempt. As you, are aware the little demon inside keeps coming back. You can’t abort a demon. The spawn makes the best serial killers. The worst of the lot were given to humans via this method. That is because they are demons. We don’t have to worry about Troy for another year. Because as you, know they all come back.”
Helmut hugs Yuri smiling, “Don’t let that bother you it is called job security. Well I guess I have to wait for the phone call.”
Finally, the Narrator can take a back seat allowing our heroes to tell their own story. I should not complain about how taxing this sorry tale has been. It could be worse the author might have produced an audio book. If you have never done one of those don’t even try. Not only must you read every syllable you have to provide appealing voices for each character. There are simply too many female expressions included here. Female voices are the worst for me to render. At least my time here is almost done.
Hold that thought a minute the author informs me I am not finished until the chapter ends. At least the writer did not insult your intelligence with the usual characters. You know who I mean. When the little fruit comes out admitting he is a girl the parents either go off the deep end persecuting the kid or they are so supportive nobody believes it. Sometimes a writer offers up the intersexed kid who is part girl already. At least we do not suffer that overdone theme. Have you noticed all converts willing or not become pretty girls? That is all well and good. Please just once present us a poor soul wanting the gentler side to turn out as a heifer often seen at the Target store.
Please consider parents who want to make their boy into a girl do you realize the fallout? Think about it, if a parent takes the kid hiking and gets mud on him CPS charges them with child abuse. I imagine they’d go ballistic when a parent forces a sex change. I digress; if I don’t shut up I won’t get to the end of the chapter and get out of here.
Hopefully, setting this scene will be the end of a narrator’s work. The unfortunate protagonists can tell their own stories. Inside the Phillips’ bedroom where Luke, Jean’s father rushed in with his fully loaded semi automatic weapon to view chaos. He awoke upon hearing the girl’s screams following an explosion. The narrator is a pacifist knowing nothing about guns. So I cannot describe the weapon beyond it being a semi automatic. That is all the information the writer provided me. Hard on his heals Marie is seen rushing into the room. Her name is a lapse in the story as no one reported Mrs. Phillips’ first name. For the record it is Marie. In the name of full disclosure Jean’s middle name is Marie after her mother. Nothing has been disclosed to suggest Andrew or Andréa’s middle name. At second thought perhaps it was mentioned somewhere. If your narrator missed that simply chalk it up to a bored reporter trying to extend the chapter.
Luke rushes to his daughter’s side there is a large bruise on her cheek as if she were struck hard. “Jean, Jean are you okay? What happened?”
She cannot answer from her unconsciousness state. Luke is holding her not noticing Andréa crawling on the floor the girl is naked. Marie rushes to her quickly wrapping Andréa in a sheet. The girl is whimpering something sounding as if she is begging. “Please master complete me.”
Marie’s gentle grasp caresses the girl using her fingers to trace Andréa’s cheek. “You are safe child there is no one other than Luke, Jean and I.” Mrs. Phillips can feel the girl’s temperature rising she calls to her husband. “Help me get her to bed. Is Jean okay?”
Luke turns nodding managing only a terrified, “She is sleeping but something hit her though there is nothing here. The room was empty when I arrived and no one appeared in the hall. I would have seen him.”
He lifted Andréa as if she weighed nothing placing her on the bed next to Jean. She is burning up and her mumblings make no sense. “What is this make me complete crap? I need to call the doctor at first light.” A strange thought enters Luke’s mind. It is the phone number of Doctor Belagosi.
Marie sits by the bed bathing Andréa’s brow with a wet wash cloth. “If her fever continues to rise you may have to help me put her in a tub of water.”
Luke nods worried his touching a naked girl not his daughter may be wrong. He views the beautiful girl dismissing those thoughts realizing there would be nothing improper. It might be necessary to save a life and Marie will be at his side.
Marie suddenly points to the ceiling as the rising sun is showing through a hole in the roof. “My God, Luke look up!”
Exactly above the head of the bed is a hole the size of a basketball. The broken boards and roofing slate are pointing inward as if a force struck hard. Luke’s eyes are wide as he stares demanding answers. There is nothing on the floor or bed to reveal what struck his daughter. Jean is still not awake. Luke turns to walk into his bedroom where he dials a number. Finally, your narrator can bid you adieu.
Next Chapter 8 Belagosi to the Rescue
Rights reserved by author
For what it's worth here are the final two chapters. I see no point in prolonging this any further. Chapters eight and nine are each similar in length to the previous insertions. You can tell by now this is an effort to poke fun at the Demonhorror genre. My intent was to create a strong female character who is the anti victim. A young woman who said enough is enough I am taking a stand and will not be intimidated. As I've said many times I try to take a different course with my stories. To those of you who followed this effort I hope you enjoyed it as it was fun to write. The ideas have once again dried up and it may be awhile before the muse returns if she ever does. Thank you, Essarr.
“Dr. Belagosi I understand you are Andréa Lyon’s doctor?”
“Yes, yes, is something wrong with little Andréa?” Belagosi smiles having expected this call quite happy Beekman managed to plant the suggestion. “What can I do for you Mister?”
“Phillips, Luke Phillips doctor, she is burning up with fever and delirious speaking in riddles. The girl appears to be in a trance like she is possessed. My daughter is sleeping soundly seemingly not to have heard any of the commotion. We have a hole is the roof without debris. My daughter appears to have been struck but no evidence by what. Should we bring them to your office or the emergency room?”
“Mr. Phillips it is my experience the emergency room is useless in cases such as this. What is your address? I will be right there.” ‘In the old days I’d just evaporate in and no one would question. The world is filled with non believers. It sounds as the Trickster molested the other girl as well. I best be on my way.’ “I’m leaving my office as we speak Mr. Phillips.”
Luke thanks the doctor surprised Andréa has a physician who makes house calls. He turns to his wife, “Marie how is her fever?”
“The same I am growing concerned I cannot wake Jean.” The woman has been tending to Andréa quickly shifting her effort attempting Jean’s arousal. The child will not wake and Andréa continues her whining. This is unsettling to the woman who has never seen anything like this. Her efforts are interrupted by a ringing doorbell.
Luke opens the door to see a startling figure. The man is well over six feet in height standing with a bent. He holds a black bag seemingly too heavy for his weak appearing frame. He is so thin Luke almost believes he can see through him. Even though Dr. Belagosi sports a deep tan his goatee and black widow’s peak presents an unsettling sight. When the man speaks he reinforces Luke’s concern. A strong eastern European accent sends chills up Phillips’ spine.
Without a word beyond a simple greeting, Belagosi steps inside. “Where is my patient? I understand your daughter is suffering as well. Quick lead me to them my good man. What you presented on the phone causes my urgency. There is not a moment to spare.”
Luke sensing fear like he has never felt before rushes to the bedroom. Belagosi waste, no time ushering the parents out of the room. “I will advise you when I complete my exam of both girls.”
Now alone he kneels down beside Andréa who is again out of bed appears to be searching for something. On all fours the girl mutters in a begging voice, “Master?”
Belagosi nods, “Yes daughter what is it you need?”
Andréa rocks back on her haunches appearing as a puppy who is looking for a treat. Her fingers reach toward the doctor attempting to unzip his fly. “I require your seed first to taste the wonderful delicate flavor then to urge your stem to complete my womanhood.”
Belagosi smiles understanding at once the child was not violated by the Trickster. ‘He was plying the boy readying him for conversion, conversion through Jean? Yes that is it. His game was to destroy two lives. I am in time but how much can I undo?’ The doctor guides the girl to the bed where she quickly lies down spreading her legs in anticipation. Belagosi grins, ‘in the old days this would have been temptation.’ He bends to her using a head lamp shinning the light to her nether region. ‘Ah she is a virgin as I hoped.’ Belagosi quickly with gentle fingers spreads oil like substance onto her vagina and then applies the same to her forehead. “Sleep my child for a moment or two.”
Looking down at Jean he frowns, “It has begun she is growing the tool of the Trickster. Yuri is correct the demon Troy would use this delicate girl to impregnate her friend with his vile seed.” Bela shakes his head in thought, “First things first,” he mutters to himself. “The tool must die it is good she sleeps deeply as the fire can be painful.” His voice remains soft so as not to be heard. Once again, Belagosi searches through his bag to produce a small vial containing holy water concentrated by the Boss himself. As the liquid saturates her extended clitoris a stench commands the room to be followed by a haunting evil scream heard only by Belagosi. A plum of green vapor ascends through the hole in the ceiling. Jean begins to stir. The doctor places a palm on her forehead quieting her. The girl settles back into an easy sleep.
He can hear nervous pacing from the hall outside. Parents bursting into the room cannot be allowed. The doctor knows he must speak with them to ease their fears. He steps out side taking care to close the door behind. Both faces exude fear.
“Mr. and Mrs. Phillips may we speak over a cup of tea? I can offer hopeful news.” Marie and Luke display faces of relief as Mrs. Phillips rushes to the teapot. Luke and the doctor follow to the kitchen table.
Doctor Belagosi sips slowly measuring what he can see in the parent’s eyes. “Yes it was as I expected an intruder did enter the room through the roof.” Their expressions signal rising alarm. Before either can speak Belagosi continues holding out a large rock. “It is this, a piece of a meteor that hit your roof and struck Jean on her cheek. The doctor opens his bag producing an electronic meter holding it against the rock. A needle swings wildly settling barely above the lower left hand corner of the digital window.
“You see it contains a low level of radioactivity. High enough to cause a fever when directly exposed over a period of time. Say a few minutes, don’t worry it has lost its effectiveness. The shock when it struck your daughter knocked her unconscious. She should wake shortly and may be a bit confused. That will pass quickly. I have another question.”
Marie blinked, “They will be alright? Excuse me doctor I am very concerned. What is it you wish to inquire about?”
“It is your daughter Jean has she been confused lately acting strange in any way?”
Marie nods, “Yes now that you bring it up. Yesterday she seemed distracted. Her friend Andréa brought her home the night before. Andréa spent the night something that is unusual because Jean never brings friends home. Well not in the last three years. Or is it four?” She deflected to her husband without waiting for a response. “It does not matter we were glad to see she finally made a friend. Have you noticed how much the girls look alike? They could be related. At any rate when they arrived home from school she ran to her room to change her clothes.”
Belagosi blinked, “My dear woman there is nothing odd about that she is female. Girls do that all the time.”
Marie shakes her head engaging Belagosi with a knowing smile. “Not my daughter, she wears nothing but jeans and tee shirts. The girl spent four years denying she is a girl. I will say I had no idea how beautiful she is. Jean appeared dressed in a lovely skirt, blouse and hose. She presented as if she were going on a date. She flatly refused to explain herself. When pressed she made the strangest comment while glancing to Andréa. Battle my dear Andréa. We are fighting a war.”
Belagosi listens without comment. It is all clear to him now. That weekend with Troy somehow warned the girl he is dangerous. The Trickster buried within Jean’s psyche somehow became unmasked. ‘This delicate appearing girl became aware of the Trickster’s presence. She was openly attacking him not backing down. This must have set our demon into a frenzy explaining her bruises. I need to talk to this girl.’ Sensing the girls are safe and Jean fought a courageous battle Belagosi smiled. “Thank you Marie, may I call you Marie? I assure you the girls are not related. I have cared for Andréa since elementary school.” He lied knowing he must.
“I shall be done with your girls in a few minutes. Andréa’s fever is breaking. I expect it will run its course shortly. Jean should wake before I go. I must request you allow Andréa to spend a few more days with you. I know it is an imposition but I do not like the girl living alone. If not I must insist she come with me as my wife will care for her. Keep both girls home from school today. I will stop by St. Michaels to give Sister Karla a medical document excusing the girls. We can’t have the school being concerned over their best students. I will relieve you of that burden. You can call the school announcing my immediate arrival once I take my leave. In the meantime please wait right here while I make a final check on Andréa and Jean.”
Both parents stand offering their agreement watching the doctor walk into the bedroom and close the door. “He is a strange duck, Marie.”
“I know dear but something tells me he is a God send.” She pours another cup of tea for Luke then sits back with a hopeful expression.
Belagosi enters the bedroom to view Andréa sleeping soundly. His touch confirms her fever has broken. He turns to Jean studying her bruise. ‘Yes, the Trickster struck her hard. I see she has another wound on her hip. It looks like a bruise from a fist. Hmm she got to our boy. I wonder,’ he allows that though to drop. “Jean, wake up my child.” Belagosi’s voice is gentle barely a whisper likely not loud enough to be heard.
A soft voice inside my head inside my head is trying to wake me. The bastard is back. No it is a different voice, a gentle one addressing me as child. I sit up eyes wide open my hand touches my cheek. “Ouch that sucker packs a wallop. Who are you and what are you doing in my room?”
“I am Dr. Belagosi sent here to heal Andréa’s wounds and to check on you as well. I heard you went to war. I detect only minor injuries you should be fine in a few days.”
I pass a wary eye at Belagosi. “Doctor huh. I suspect you are the guy Andréa told me about from that Sanctuary house. What was it she called you? Oh yeah Bella like the vampire. Cut the shit you are no doctor. Tell me you are in league with Troy and I’ll kick your ass too.”
Belagosi is taken back never encountering the likes of Jean Phillips before. The usual half truths and fictions are not going to work here. “I suspect there is more to Jean Phillips than meets the eye. Do you happen to work on the side going by the name Buffy?”
Jean laughs, “No I’m real not some TV character.”
“My dear she is a TV character but take my word for it there are real Buffys out there.”
My wary eye regards Belagosi, “After the last few days I won’t argue what you claim. So this clown known as Troy pissed me off and I am not going to take his shit and I let him have it. I take it he turned tail and ran?”
“My dear girl words like, pissed and shit are unbecoming.”
I cut him off, “Maybe but it is all jerks like him understand. You know they feed on fear. Laughing in their face, drives them nuts they can’t handle it. I think poor Troy knew at some point he was in over his head. My last trick sent him through the roof literally. You should have seen the sucker turn into a ball of flame and shot off like a Roman candle. That holy water is serious shit.”
Belagosi is laughing, “Yes it can be but how could you use holy water in a dream? You know that is impossible.”
I stifle my giggles “That’s what Troy must have thought. It is exactly why the coward conducts his assaults through dreams. At least Dracula had the balls to show up in person. Enough small talk I need some answers and spare me the bull. Anyway this schmuck had been planting ideas in my head for some time. Ideas I knew were not mine. A lot of kids are fucked up but not me. I know who I am. I knew these ideas came from somewhere else. Then at one point I really tried to focus on ideas as they formed. I concentrated not on the idea but upon its source. There he was the blue eyed perfect complexion Hollywood soap opera lover boy. What a fraud.”
Belagosi interrupts her, “You really did see him!”
“Right you think I’m making this up? I know I can’t bring physical things into a dream. I knew that is how he planned on making his final strike. What did he think I am some bimbo? Two clues he missed, one I’m not a blond. Two my name is not Brittany or Heather or anything fitting that profile. I realized silver bullets ain’t gonna work. Garlic might but he is not a vampire. That left holy water. You know St Michaels is a catholic school? Did you know the nuns try selling bottles of holy water to the kids? In my four years they never sold a single bottle. You should have seen the look on Sister Agnes’ face when I bought three cases. It blew my allowance for a month. Seventy-two bottles goes a long way toward filling a bath tub. So Andi finally goes to sleep. I thought she’d never shut up and drift off. I soaked in the tub. I definitely reeked of holy water.”
I watch Belagosi searching for his reaction. He is having a hard time trying not to laugh. He offers a plea for me to satisfy his obvious curiosity. “Go on we may be able to use this trick ourselves.”
“I finally go to sleep and there he is standing there in his birthday suit looking handsome ordering me to kneel down. Andi is laying stark naked legs tied to a post spread wide apart. It does not take a rocket scientist to know where this is going. So the bozo, you did notice he is blond, easy target. He starts in with this call me master shit. I said something like fuck off. He takes a swing at me to display his manly superiority. It hurt like hell caught me on the hip as I ducked out of the way. I noticed when he hit me a flame appeared on his hand. I thought holy shit the holy water works. He could not use that hand once it burned off but he is still mister macho. He’s thinking I’m too scared to notice. Every time I leaned toward him he backed off. That told this little black duck something he did not want me to know. Holy water to him is like Kryptonite.”
“I’m trying to work out a way to use the weapon I have. Troy here is promising me the moon if I take care of Andi. Take care of as in knocking her up with the big penis he promises I can keep. Yeah, he has been working on convincing me I want to be a guy. I am one step ahead of him on that. My answer was Andi is my friend I love Andi and will die before hurting her. That pissed him off he ordered me one more time to kneel and call him master. I said kiss my ass jerk. That is when he set his other hand on fire and my cheek hurt like hell. It is also when I figured it out. I leaped right at him and hugged him. Wrapped him tight in my arms and the fucker blew up. I literally set his hair on fire. It was a beautiful sight seeing that missile blowing through the roof. He emulated a Roman candle on the fourth of July. I just hope dad isn’t pissed about the repair bill.”
Belagosi hugs me “My dear girl you are blessed. It has been a pleasure meeting you. My people will be impressed when they hear.”
“Doc you are not getting away without answering my questions.”
“Stop by the Sanctuary House tomorrow and bring Andréa with you. We can talk.”
“Before you split, what about Andrew is he stuck as Andréa?”
“Stop by the Sanctuary House tomorrow and bring Andréa with you. We can talk.”
“Stop by the Sanctuary House tomorrow and bring Andréa with you. We can talk.” Those words buzzed inside my head all day. Well what was left of my day. By the time Doctor Belagosi left it was two pm. He woke me up right after arriving probing me for hours. I thought my so called battle waged throughout the night was simply a dream. Dream hell, nightmare is more like it. Belagosi convinced me it is real enough. I only needed to see the bruises on my cheek and hip to realize I fought something. If bruises are not enough a glance at the ceiling viewing a bowling ball size hole should affirm Belagosi’s story.
I’m trying to collect my thoughts this mythical bullshit has gone on long enough. I’m a control freak who does not like it when things feel as if they are slipping away. This perpetual fog must come to an end. What time is it now? I break from my musings to glance at my watch which reads seven pm. I missed school today, the first of November which I hate doing. It is just possible Pedro gained a point or two during my absence. According to the Doctor; well he is not a doctor, I am under orders to stay home on the second as well. I really cannot afford to give up another day at school falling further behind. The race for top dog is an endurance test and I have to keep slugging away. So I’m anal, I want that Valedictorian prize. I roll my eyes at that thought. After last night such bullshit proves how shallow it is.
Andréa dozed off an hour ago about six right after we ate dinner. She looked like a wreck run over by a train. The poor girl did not say an awful lot. Not that I should be surprised. I think she got the worst of it. My hopes of comparing notes got shot down in flames. Of, course she got the worst of it. Look at her sleeping my Andrew Lyons is nowhere to be found. Belagosi tells me we can talk tomorrow. Sure, right if I make it through the night. Tonight is supposed to be round two of the freak parade. I can’t wait to see what they throw at me before morning.
Andi did tell me even though she slept through Doctor Belagosi grilling me she heard most of it. Andréa thought she was dreaming one of those weightless floating adrift weird helpless lost little girl dreams. Wow, that was a mouthful. At least she woke up around five to eat dinner. Mom and dad appeared concerned repeatedly questioning if she is really okay. Her fever broke just as Belagosi told them it had. Mom is attuned to everything. I can attests to that having never gotten away with a thing for eighteen years.
Andi wasted no time rushing back to sleep not taking time to talk. When she looked at me her gaze seemed to be one of awe. It is like she is avoiding helping me sort reality from fantasy. Perhaps Andrew managed a long look at his body realizing he is completely screwed. Belagosi made me out to be a hero. She woke up a couple of times long enough for me to assure her I am okay. I did not tell her any of my adventures playing Jean the Demon Slayer. When I think, about it that’s pretty cool. To think Buffy is out there under an assumed name is reassuring.
I’m not too high on saving the world. I am imaging myself with a collection of Holy Water, crucifixes, garlic, silver bullets along with a sledge hammer and spikes in my purse. After hearing about All Souls Day being round two of last night’s skirmish I checked my purse. I’m only lacking the bullets, spikes and sledge hammer. I doubt I should ask dad to run down to the hardware store. I’m in no mood to explain that request. Besides have you ever hefted a bloody sledge hammer? We have a couple at dad’s garage it takes two men and a boy to swing one. It would simply kill my Michael Kors purse. Michael Kors? A three hundred dollar purse, not me mine came from Walmart less than ten bucks. Dad is not too happy about the hole in the roof. I’m just glad he has no way to pin that on me. You can bet this little black duck is not going to bring that up. I have to admit seeing that asshole flame out, priceless. It is better than having my own Master Card.”
The insurance claims guy is supposed to be around sometime today. I can hear him now. “Meteor? Through the roof? Not covered it’s an act of God.” At least that part is right. I force myself back to All Souls Day, this is creeping me out. I’m not too keen on staying up all night standing guard. I should take a nap it is going to be a long night. I just hope it does not rain the hole is right above my pillow. Take a note, Jean the next time you exercise demons make sure it is not over your bed. I’m still feeling pretty good about this. Imagine a little scared shitless girl like me nuked a demon. It is time for some sleep.
“Hello, hello, Miss, Hello.”
‘What the hell!’ I look up and see a guy staring at me through the hole over my head. “Who are you?”
He answers, “I am Jorge Hernandez I’m here to fix the roof. I did not want to bother you but I’m afraid debris might fall on you. May I come down to put some covering on your bed just in case?”
“As long as you use the door do not simply drop in. Did you ever hear of the front door?” I see a sheepish smile not missing he has perfect gleaming white teeth dark eyes and black hair. Thankfully my sarcasm is not misinterpreted by that guy. What the hell time is it? Eight AM, Geeze I must have slept through the counter attack. Well I’m still here, unless this is it. How do I know I’m not dreaming now? Jorge is rather cute. Remember Troy, he was Dorothy McGuire’s wet dream in that movie A Summer Place.
“I knocked but nobody answered. I had no idea the hole went right through and was over the bed until I got up here.” He reports still smiling peering at my pajama clad body from above.
This guy definitely has the advantage of positioning. Not wanting to be a prone babe underneath a hunk I jump up landing firmly on the floor. This part is good the carpet feels firm. So I answer, “Okay I’ll be right down to let you in the front door. You have ID?”
“Yes miss I even have a company truck parked out front.”
I reach into my Walmart knock off designer purse gripping a bottle of holy water. Just in case. “I have to wake up my sister. Meet me on the porch in five.”
I turned to shake Andréa. “Get up sleepy head man incoming. Besides your twenty-four hour recovery time expired.”
“Huh,” she grunts while tossing a pillow at me. I point to the hole noting her deer in the headlights gawk. She stares at the cannon ball hole like it is the first time she has seen it. “Jean what the hell is that?”
I shake my head. “Did you sleep through everything? Never mind get your ass up. A cute guy has to come in our bedroom. I’m going down to let him in no excuses. I’ll be right back.”
Andréa is slowly moving as I dash downstairs. If she pokes too long it will give me plenty to bust on her when Jorge comes walking in on her. On my way by I flip on the switch to start the coffee then open the door. From the sound of it mom went back to bed and dad is off to work. He has to be at the garage for seven. Mom often naps after he leaves and I’m on my way to school. Mister white teeth dark hair and eyes is standing there smiling and he is cute. It does not cut him any slack after Troy I know better and trust no one. His ID looks real though I have one more little test.
On my way down the stares I opened the bottle of demon Kryptonite sticking the cap into my pajama pocket. So while I am reading his ID I absently handed him my water bottle to hold. Naturally a woman, (me) is in presence of a hunk she displays her little girl flirtation spilling a little on him. No flames, no instant horns springing up or hissing voice to threaten me results. So I let Jorge in walking him to the bedroom. Lucky for Andréa she is on her feet. I drag her out of the room to the coffee pot. The racket woke mom and she is hovering over Jorge providing her mom supervision. Mom on the job that’s always good.
Andréa and I are sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee when the door opens. I giggled when I caught Andréa checking out Jorge as he exited to the porch. She stares at me passing a long cold look eeping out. “What?”
I can’t resist searching for signs of Andrew Lyons. “Andi you are a girl for five minutes and are already checking out guys butts, shameless.”
She mock slaps my arm coming back with a lame. “You were too.”
“Yeah but I have eighteen years training so I’m entitled.” I’m teasing to my disappointment my Andrew is not there. I say my Andrew but to be truthful I spent the last three and a half years hating the guy. In one week I fall in love with him just like a character in a made for TV movie.
“Well me too, I started my period this morning. What a mess.” Andréa reveals in a whisper.
Did I hear that right as I’m laughing my ass off? I’m not going to give the dear girl a pass on this one. I hit her with a sharp comment in a teasing way. “Good you deserve it. Let it be a lesson to you the next time you sneak into girl’s night out in Spookville there is a price to pay. Now you’ve received your special gift do you still want to be a girl?” That is when mom came in eyes wide displaying an odd expression.
“Jean, stop picking on Andréa you make it sound like she chose to be a girl. You don’t order your persona on line. Besides being a girl is the better choice even with the inconveniences.”
Mom’s gaze is one I’ve seen before. I don’t want to open this can of worms so I quickly regroup. “Mom Doctor Belagosi wants Andréa and I to come to his office this morning. He has something to talk to us about. He needs to check on us to be sure his diagnosis is correct. Doctor Belagosi believes everything is ok but since Andréa was out of it he wants to be certain. Are you up to driving Andi?”
My sister looks at me like she never heard this before. I find myself thinking of Andi as my sister. I have no idea if this is a residue effect Andrew Lyons told me about when he encountered that Sanctuary House. One look at Andréa should warn you Sanctuary House residue is serious shit.
“Yeah, I am feeling much better the fog is lifting I’m good.”
“Before you kids go there is something I have to discuss with you.” Mom says using her parental voice.
Like that look she gave me a minute ago I’ve heard this tone before. It means this will take awhile and it is not open for negotiation. Without arguing I refill everybody’s coffee cup and sit back down. “Sure,” I say sheepishly while passing a warning gaze toward Andi. My sister forms a cautious defensive countenance while caressing her coffee cup against her lips. I can see her eyes over the quaking mug looking nervous.
Mom wasted no time getting into it. “Doctor Belagosi called yesterday afternoon. You girls were sleeping and I did not get time to discuss it at dinner. Andréa you appeared rather pale and still groggy even though your fever broke much earlier. I decide to wait. Jean your father is aware of this and strongly agrees. He thinks highly of Andréa and wants to help.” Mom takes a breath the one she always displays before dropping a bomb.
“He said he met with Mother Superior giving her his medical report. She does not expect you back school any earlier than Monday. She said both of you girls are in her prayers wishing you God speed in your recovery. If Monday is too soon I only need to call her. As for the other part Andréa while you are out stop by your house and pick up some clothes. Doctor Belagosi does not want you left alone until he is sure you are safe. Safe is an odd selection of word choices but he is an odd duck. You can stay as long as you want Andréa. Father and I agree you are more than welcome.”
Andi looks at me whispering, “We have to talk.” She turns to mom, “I’m rather surprised Mrs. Phillips are you sure I don’t want to intrude.”
Mom almost leaps over the table to hug Andi. “My dear it is our pleasure. Now run along you both have to get dressed and go out to take care of business. Thank the doctor for me he is a most unusual man.”
I had no time to react to Andréa’s whisper before she wrenches my shoulder from its socket. I am literally dragged to my room feeling the wind from the door slamming. Jorge is on the roof banging away at least the hole is plugged. I pull the covering off the bed. Actually it is one of those poly sheets that I rolled keeping the debris from falling all over. With that stuffed into a cardboard box in the corner I sit on the bed. Andréa lands beside me.
“Did you hear your mom Jean? She said Mother Superior told her both of you girls are in her prayers. That is exactly what she said both of you girls. What the hell are we going to do? I feel awful look at the trouble I caused you. I can’t expect you to go to school faking being a guy from now on.”
“Andi,” I try to calm her but have no idea how. I wanted to point out Mother Superior said girls meaning she accepts Andrew Lyons is Andréa. That is too far fetched. It is more likely mom or the doctor referenced the term girls. I am clueless grasping for some explanation. What likely happened is no pronouns were used and Mother Superior simply said we will be praying for them. Nothing we can do about it but cautiously walk in the door Monday me as Andrew and Andi as Jean. “Look sis we have no idea of what they think. Don’t panic we will feel our way through to discover what expectations are. I, Jean Phillips, Demon slayer is on the job and will come up with a brilliant plan.”
Andréa offers a sign of relief in her pretty face. “I know,” she responds to my brazen speech.
“Jean you said demon slayer you were not joking. I can tell when you are kidding. You tried to pass it off as a joke but it isn’t is it? I was in that damn nightmare with you. I know it was not a dream. We were somewhere in an ugly place.”
I turn quickly hugging my sister tightly almost suffocating her. Stroking her sweat soaked hair I whisper softly. “It is going to be okay. We are alright we won. Calm down I’m with you, always.” I released her with a sisterly peck on the cheek. There is no desire within me as planted by that Trickster. It has been purged replaced by a strong bond. I suspect deep down Andrew is gone. That is why Belagosi dodged my question.
“No jean I have to finish. I love you, you saved my life. I heard you when my naked body staked out positioned to be impregnated by that incredibly huge stick between your legs. I saw you a fantastic beautiful male any girl would eagerly welcome. You did not see yourself did you? I heard you say, I will die before hurting my sister. I saw that bastard strike you twice and you not yield. Who the hell are you? Harry Potter or better yet is it Hermione? Yes you are the beautiful Hermione. Jean sending that freak off like a rocket was awesome.” Then she threw herself into my arms, “I love you,” she whispered.
Fuck she saw all that. I have no way to explain it. I’d hoped she simply was so out it from the fever she either did not see this bullshit or forgot it. Now I have to come up with some logical response. Oh fuck it I’ll simply be honest.
“Sis I have no idea. I found myself standing there facing this creep knowing I am not going to back down. I fully expected both of us were toast. Deep down I knew if we get fried we are not going to end up in their place. Hey we are Catholic girls attending St. Michaels run by a gaggle of penguins. If we don’t believe their sales pitch then this whole operation is a waste of time. I decided to stick with the program. What the Trickster offered I knew is nothing I wanted.”
My dissertation ended to find us locked in a massive hug. The hug is broken by Andi. “We need to get dressed Bella owes us some answers.”
I nod jumping off the bed grabbing my jeans and turn toward the bathroom. A shower is definitely needed. Again Andréa grabs my arm.
“No not those clothes wear one of the outfits Bess gave you. I want to see Bella with my sister.”
An exasperated sigh escapes my lips as I stare at a grinning Andi.
“What are you afraid of Jean? You act like people don’t know you are a young woman. Your visitor arrived the same moment mine did. We are twins remember? Humor me look like you are proud of who you are for a change.”
I wanted to rap the little hussy. She wants me to come down to her level. I shrug, “Okay just this once.”
A half hour later I step out of the shower as Andréa rushed to fill my empty space. While the water is running keeping my sister occupied I take my time dressing. The frilly clothes almost cause me to grab my jeans, instead I tough it out. Standing before the mirror enjoying my thought of Andréa hogging the last of the hot water I gaze at myself. I do not usually regard Jean Marie Phillips this way, my response is wow. I am shaken by my reflection.
A woman is seen in the mirror she appears self assured. I am wearing a lavender strapless cutout dress. Not only are there two sides to the story, but both are worth mentioning. As I stood there staring into the mirror I became confused, this is not me. It's hard to gloss over the sexy allure of two triangular side cutouts below a fitted sweetheart bodice, or the custom fit that an elastic back band and no slip strip lining presented in that mirror. The A-line skirt tucks a little at the waist. It has an exposed zipper at back. It is fully lined. ‘Wow,’ I though so much skin showing around my shoulders. My resistance to my feminine side melted causing a sudden need to embrace this dress.
Not wanting to overdue this look I am not wearing hose. My white ankle socks are visible above a pair of black leather Mary Janes. Again resisting overdoing this female thing my shoes are flats. I don’t think I ever wore heels. Andi is exiting the shower whistling unable to resist her tease.
“Put the jeans back on you are going to cause a heart attack. Even worse I have to spend a half hour hoping I can avoid looking like the frumpy sister.”
I give her my you, are full of it stare throwing her Horny toad skirt at her. “You look stunning in this hurry up we have a fake doctor to torment. Then we must rescue those amazing clothes of yours.”
Andréa has to sit at that vanity forever proving how correct I am when I decided being a girl is a royal pain in the ass. Look at her primp. The day I went to school disguised as Andrew it took five minutes to slap on my clothes, grrr.
“Andréa Lyon’s”, I start using my mother voice stopping myself. “Uh what in hell is your middle name? I can’t scold you without using it.”
She turns perplexed “Uh my parents did not give me one. Why is it important?”
“Of course it is silly. It is how you know when you are in trouble. Every time mom starts with, Jean Marie Phillips I cringe. It means trouble every time.”
Andi laughs, “Well in that case I will adopt a middle name.” She rolls her eyes pretending to be thinking. “I know the perfect middle name, Jeanette, Yes Andréa Jeanette Phillips, err Lyons.” She blushes.
I know going out into the November cold is never intelligent idea to wear a strapless dress. I put on my navy cardigan and grab my tan camel hair coat. I’m also trying to ignore what Andi chose as a middle name and her slip saying Phillips. I cannot maintain the cool persona because a freaking tear trickles down my cheek. Andi hugs me.
“Jean, I get it. All I can say is it’s because I love my twin. Let’s get out of here before I ruin my last half hour’s work. You are not wearing makeup.” She dodges as I miss my attempt to poke her.
The Sanctuary House is a fifteen minute trip from my house on Colony Drive. Andréa drives her pea green Beetle having mastering the stick shift at last. The sudden lurching and stopping almost caused me severe whiplash more than once. Andréa seems to have somewhat mastered shifting gears. I don’t know how many times I begged her let me drive to avoid my having whiplash. I’ve been handling a stick since age twelve. I am not going to explain illegal acts. You will have to take my word for it.
“Andréa this is a God awful remote location.” I say as she turns onto a dirt road ten miles from town.
“What do you expect they’d put all those demons on display for the world to see? Believe me the scene awaiting you would do Stephen King proud. Expect Jack Nicholson to pop out from behind every tree.”
She begins to hum the theme from a recent horror movie. My mind suddenly tropes bringing up images I do not want to see. I have this sense we are tempting fate. ‘What if we are walking into a trap? The Trickster now has two babes to knock up.’ Sure that is an appropriate penalty for nuking one of their all stars. “Andi I’m thinking this is not a good idea.”
Andi is now laughing her normal giggle. Not some demonic cackle that precludes the guy with the chainsaw jumping out from behind the back seat. I start fumbling in my purse sitting in my lap. Andi keeps sneaking a glance in my direction. Every time she does the Beetle finds a rut. “Andi watch the road.”
“I can’t help it your fishing is distracting me, didn’t I tell you to put on your makeup at home? It is a little late now applying mascara is dangerous on this road. You will poke an eye out.”
My glare returned signaling she is way off base. “I’m not looking for makeup I’m double checking to see if I have my demon tools.” I ignore her amused smile and keep talking. “Holy water, check, crucifix, garlic, check, I hope I’m not missing anything.”
Andi suddenly slams on her brakes. I lurch forward ducking into a defensive position expecting I don’t know what. Andi is out of the car in a flash. She walks around to the boot opening it while yelling, “Come here.”
Clueless me stares into the trunk while Andréa points to a sledge hammer and long wooden stakes. I bleep out “You gotta be shitting me.”
“Jean, I’m your wing man so I took care of what you did not have. Sorry but Ace Hardware was fresh out of silver bullets. You know how hard those things are to get? I couldn’t even find any on line. Now relax are you ready to kick ass?”
Now we are both laughing until I looked up and saw it, Sanctuary House sitting on a hill looking too much like the Bates Hotel. The only thing missing is bats silhouetted against a full moon. “Fuck!”
“I swear it was not this much of a drive when I came here before. The road was much smoother, this ain’t right.” Andréa says in a stuttering voice.
Great Andréa I do not need to hear this. I kept that to myself as Andi is keeping herself cool and under control. I don’t need her freaking out on me. Lost in my thoughts I am surprised when the final distance suddenly faded away and we are at the door step of the haunted house.
Belagosi told us to meet him here and he did say the freaks only come out to play twice a year. Both of those days have passed. It sounds good but what if he is one of them? Don’t go there I saw him handle my holy water. The last helps reassure me, not.
“Andréa” I shout, “Do you happen to have a cell phone?”
She stares at me like I’m stupid, “You know I don’t why?”
“I should have called Mother Superior to check on Belagosi to see if he really called to check on him.”
“Jean your mother clearly said she spoke with Mother Superior herself. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“Uh yes I heard that but who called who?”
“Stop freaking let’s go inside and sort this out.”
This whole scene is bothering me. Something ain’t right. I do not want to find myself staked out like Andi was. I’m frozen in place looking at that dump. Yes, Sanctuary House is a wreck. “Andi does this look like it did when you came here?”
I did not want to hear what she had to say in response. “No, it was an old house with creepy looks but in better repair than this.”
All I can think of is lame valley girls in those Scream movies, all dumber than a box of rocks running around hysterical in their underwear. Grabbing my tools making sure I have a firm grip on holy water and cross I lead Andi up the steps. The grayed weathered floor boards on the porch creak underfoot. Many have already broken away showing the dirt under the deck. It does not help more than one rat is seen scurrying around down there. I tighten my fingers around Andi’s hand as I reach for that hideous knocker. It breaks off in my hand. “Great.”
Andi blinks now ready to turn around and run I right behind her. The door swings open the only thing missing is the creepy voice saying “Welcome.” The door is hanging on one hinge leaning precariously supported by a raised warped floor board. I had to lift and push to get it fully open, when I did the remaining hinge gave way. The door fell to the floor with a loud crash raising a cloud of dust. Andi jumped digging her claws into my wrist. Andi is attempting to step back as I’m now dragging her forward into a dark empty room convinced she is smarter than I.
“You were right time to turn around running and screaming.” Andi’s voice no longer firm with resolve convinces me. I somehow know there will be no answers if we turn and run. We must see this through to the end. “Come on Andréa, God hates a coward.” Christ how lame can you get, Geeze Phillips you have to do better than that. Clearly the room is empty. I ask Andi, “When you came here what did you see? I mean where was all the stuff?”
My sister stares for a long time. At least it seemed like a long time. It is a long time when you are scared shitless looking for any excuse to run. “The entry room was right here it had an earth tone carpet with a long desk right in front of you there.” She points straight ahead to an empty space. Andi goes on, “The walls were wood paneled not the broken plaster hanging in clumps you see now. Those stairs had an elegant spiral case with ornate rails. A bright gold tulip shaped chandelier hung above it but I did not go up there. Over to the right beyond that doorway is where they had the entry point. I told you about the cylinders you stood in to be screened. You picked the place you wanted to spend the weekend and the cylinder rotated to that opening and you simply stepped out into the resort.”
I walked over to the doorway noticing a floor board gave way underfoot almost causing me to go through. I jumped back nearly knocking a shaking Andréa over. I am not surprised to see an empty shell of a room. The back wall is completely gone revealing dense vegetation beyond.
“Let’s get out of here” Andi says.
I suddenly agree with her as a strange sensation engulfs me. “Do you see that?” I ask pointing to a fog like substance rose in color drifting toward me. I turn to grab Andréa and run like hell but my feet are frozen to the floor. I can’t move surrounded by the fog. Something is caressing me and my cheek feels a kiss. Then a warm welcoming voice generating love fills my head. ‘Welcome Jean Marie Phillips. Know you are loved.’ Then the fog dissipates. Andréa breaks my trance.
“See What?”
I shake my head completely at peace knowing everything will be perfect. I have no answers but somehow all is right with the world. I walk outside with Andi at my side. She appears more confused than ever. We exit the porch to see Belagosi standing in front of Andi’s car. I’m relieved to see there are no black robed hooded acolytes gathered around him. The doctor is smiling. I’m not, even with this strange feeling of peace encompassing me. Andréa appears nervous as she approaches him.
“Doc you told us to meet you at your office. Um excuse me but this shack is not much of an office. What happened to your ultra vacation resort? Are you running a game on us?”
Belagosi steps forward offering a soft smile. The tall thin pale man has a commanding presence. He addresses both of us answering Andi’s question. “Ah Sanctuary House, yes it is closed for the season. Alas it is our illusion to defend against evil at high risk times. As you know risks are greater during this season than any other time. Evil spirits and demons are back in their place for a time. You are safe now.”
I am hearing more generalities still without answers. I press Belagosi. “You never answered my question what about Andrew is he stuck as Andréa?” My eyes hone in on the man expressing the urgency of my question.
“Yes child I heard you. You must hear me.” He reaches out to Andréa. “You my child, how are you feeling? This is what is most important. How have you weathered the Trickster’s last evil joke?”
Her expression tells me Andréa did not expect his response. I take her hand whispering, “It’s okay tell him what you think. I’m here covering your back.” Her hand grips mine signaling she is secure within herself.
“I will live if that is what you mean. I have my sister who loves me. If this is what I have I will deal with it. I cannot ask Jean to pretend she is Andrew. I will not pretend or take what is hers. Do you have an answer? You refuse to inform my sister about Andrew the boy I have been. We await your response, the one you avoid.”
My smile and second squeeze of her hand reassures her. At least I hope it did. Her physical reaction suggests my sense is right. I too stare at Belagosi growing tired of this stalling.
“I am afraid the Trickster’s evil is permanent. You are Andréa Jeanette from now on unless you honestly say it is more than you can handle. Are you certain this is something you can embrace? The Boss is wary of miracles they tend to create problems for humans. How can you explain Andrew to Jean’s parents if he suddenly appeared? Because of Jean the Boss will grant a new reality for you. What you do not know is the Trickster’s clever manipulation was part one of his game.”
My blinking in disbelief caught Belagosi by surprise causing him to pause. I hugged Andréa continuing to listen.
“The first act of his evil design changed Andrew into a genetic duplicate of your sister Jean. He did not intend to create twins. No his sinister game required you to replace Jean. Part two of his evil deed almost succeeded. He attempted to seduce your sister into believing she wished to be male. He failed to understand how strong willed Ms. Phillips can be. To be successful Jean would have cooperated by impregnating the new Jean sending her home to disgrace her parents. Once impregnating her substitute Jean would be killed and banished into hell to become the Trickster’s concubine. It was a masterful evil scheme. He did not count on Miss Phillips.”
All the while Belagosi is speaking I am listening while staring down onto my Mary Janes. They have been scuffling up dust balls as my nervousness caused involuntary movement of my feet. I want to scream as several questions bother me. Unable to keep quiet I burst out with a series of queries.
“You need to answer a few of my curiosities Doctor Belagosi. You say perfect DNA replicas meaning Andi and I are identical twins. First off how can anyone accept this knowing I’ve been an only child forever? Now that there are two of us how do we get Andréa past the nuns? It is not like they will fail to notice Andrew wearing skirts. That little annoyance will definitely bother them considering the cow they had when he showed up with long hair. Skirts are a definite no, no. Have you noticed my sister has taken to girly clothes? Can you explain how it is I knew exactly what the Trickster intended? Finally, I suspect this fellow is a sore loser and is plotting as we speak. When can we anticipate his return?” Proud of myself for being so insistent I smile growing silent.
Belagosi looks at me with a strange expression. I sense he is holding back not wanting to answer. He exhales slowly surprising me. “You are correct Miss Phillips your action caused considerable difficulty for the Boss. Had the Trickster been successful we would face the issue of another demon. Not only that your sister would have died in child birth.”
I catch Andréa’s gasps.
Belagosi confirms saying, “Yes Andréa it is the way of it. The new born demon always kills its mother. You can thank Jean for her bravery and stubborn resolve at risk of her own life. Had you perished at the hands of the Trickster, Jean the Boss would have welcomed you into his garden.”
Now it’s my turn to blink.
“Come, come Ms Phillips a Catholic girl educated by the Sisters of Saint Joseph has not figured out who the Boss is. No the evil one you dueled will not be returning you destroyed the spirit. He is no more. How you smelled out the plot discovering the right path, I do not know. The Boss only told me he expected as much from you. The rose fog, it is his embrace my dear. I have to go for answers to the rest I’m instructed to request you speak with Mother Superior.”
“But we,” I start to speak when Belagosi puts his hand up stopping me.
“Andréa, your questions of school and home will be answered when you see Mother Superior today. I said today and don’t go changing your clothes.”
Okay we are dismissed I get it but the finality is sudden and shocking. Belagosi simply disappeared without as much as a c-ya. Poof he is here one minute, gone the next. Andréa and I stood frozen hugging each other while trembling.
“Fine way to ditch us sis no manners at all.”
I laugh at Andréa’s witticism and walk with her to the car.
I made this statement at the beginning. Essentially my story is coming to a conclusion. My reckless adventure landed me in a place I could not possibly predict. Either my life as I’ve known it is over or it’s at a new beginning. Whatever; shit, I’ve been saying that word more and more, it is upsetting shaking me at my core. With than in mind and the shocking magical disappearance of one Helmut “Bella” Belagosi I felt Jean’s fingers intertwine with mine. My half turn to face her revealed she is as stunned as I. Jean Marie Phillips my sister In spirit took my hand as we walked toward my pea green beetle. I mused to myself, ‘I no longer have to worry about using the teen girl word whatever.’
“What just happened, Jean?” I do not expect an answer from my silent sister. As she walks slowly toward the car I bury myself reviewing what happened. First the strange man is talking to us avoiding direct answers then poof he is gone as fast as he arrived. The only thing I know is the girl I lusted after for nearly four years, the one who could not stand me is holding my hand. She is the one who less than a month later risked her life to save me. I was a horny boy who thought he is in love with a pretty girl who herself lived in denial; I find myself a month later having become her twin sister. I have two parents who never cared for me in jail leaving me abandoned without support only to discover thirty days later what true love means. Isn’t that the definition of pure happiness?
'Now what? The Trickster planted idea in my head letting me believe I wanted to be a girl. I get fooled into liking pretty clothes wearing them at every opportunity. The real girl sitting next to me dresses like a guy. Sitting here after Jean saved my life my desire to become a girl is exposed as a fraud. That should be a terrifying result. Life cannot go back to normal. I am expected to get used to the tampon between my legs. Jean and I are identical genetic twins with different parents presenting a ludicrous proposition. According to the guy involved in the clean up of this mess everything is fine. Jean wonders why I’m a wreck.'
Jean did not answer she simply squeezed my hand signaling this mystery is not solved. Her green eyes mirrored mine as they sparkled. She spoke with a certainty like this girl has all the answers when I know she does not.
“Andi, we are not home yet but I know in my heart we won the battle. I know you and I are one we cannot be separated. I only know we have to figure it out one step at a time. Did you hear Bella when he said don’t change your clothes. Don’t you think that is strange?”
I stared at my sister hearing what she said after forgetting the strange man said it. I shrugged it off until Jean brought it up. Then another surprise almost causes me to run. She opens her tan camel hair coat. Until now it had been buttoned up just like mine. Her clothes have changed She is wearing a quarter sleeve dress with her top two buttons unfastened. The teal upper half yields at the midriff where a navy colored full skirt flares out hemmed at her knees. Her nude hose highlights gorgeous legs. She is wearing black flats. Jean smiles at me, “See sis we are wearing the same thing.”
Opening my coat confirms she is correct. My stunned reaction causes Jean to giggle. “Didn’t know you owned a camel hair coat did you Andi? This is going to get weirder before the day is over.”
I somehow know Jean is right when I start the car. It is a long drive to my house. It is a place I do not wish to be. After spending only a few days as my sister’s guest I know I never want to leave there. Marie and Luke are wonderful parents making me envious of Jean Marie Phillips. The long silence is broken by Jean who muses aloud.
“Andi I know what happened cannot be logically explained. I am not one who believes in magic. That Sanctuary House could not have changed without magic. It could not have decayed this rapidly into something else.”
“Jean what kind of something else are you saying this is a hallucination? I’d agree with you except look at our clothes. They changed they are real unless you believe we are still out of it.”
“That is not what I meant. That rose colored fog, something happened in there. It was not a Trickster or an evil spirit. Dare I say it? Will you think I’m daft?” I was embraced surrounded by love. He kissed me called me his daughter promising me everything will be alright. I came outside and there stood Bella. Andi, do you believe in God?”
I blinked at her question afraid to say no because I knew the car would be hit by lightening. “Jean I have to if I accept demons assaulted us and Belagosi vanished before our eyes then I have to accept the opposite exists. After what we’ve been though I’d be a liar to say no. Really I could not expect a frail thing like you could have fought that evil Trickster and won without help. Hey don’t hit me I’m driving.”
We laughed at that until I got to my house where we saw the place sealed off with yellow police tape. Several cop cars are in the driveway and TV mobile units are parked out front. “Now what the hell are we going to do?”
“Park behind that TV van we can ask to find out what is going on. Hey isn’t that Dave Bemis opening the door of that van? Yeah it is let’s pump him.”
I did not get a chance to get in a single word as Jean leaps out of the car before it completely stops. She is on Dave like a bear to honey. I am running trying to catch up. It had not dawned on me how we are dressed. What I mean is how Andi is dressed. Dave is sure to notice Andrew Lyons is wearing a dress; I went into a panic until Dave who appeared drooling basking in my sister’s shameless flirting. Then I realized I present as Andi looks not Andrew. Until recently there was only one of me. The unique flirting I recently learned reminds me my Andi persona discovers something new everyday hanging around my sister.
“Jean what brings you out here? I did not expect to see you.” The voice of a handsome Dave Bemis says.
He turns from Jean to look at me. It’s almost a double take. I want to run but it is too late. The jig is up. I’m praying Jean’s creative skills are as good as everything else she pulled off. What Dave says next nearly floors me and I find myself leaning against the van to keep from falling over.
“Andréa you are here too? I should have expected as much. Where you see one you see the other. I just asked you sister what you guys are doing at a crime scene.”
I’m speechless while Jean must have recovered to raise the bullshit level a notch. I know better to say anything and simply keep quiet. I notice for the first time Dave is a hunk. My sister is now talking.
“We were just driving by and saw all the commotion then I spotted you ripping off the TV van. That is pretty brazen of you right in front of the cops. Did you get anything good?”
Dave starts laughing and passes a glance at me. I feel rather giddy is he checking me out?
“Ladies I have an internship with channel seven meaning I do the grunt work while the others get the glory. The people who lived here were sent to jail for some kind of ripoff. There is a hundred grand missing and the cops were staking the place out. They figured more people were involved and hoped they’d show up looking for the cash. The cops searched the place but never found anything.”
I hear my sister say, “You said staked the place out and searched it. When were they doing this?”
“The cops are not saying but the guess is ever since the perps were sent to jail. It would be about a month. About three weeks ago they raided the place and found nothing.”
I blurt out, “Wait a minute you said raided weeks ago what about their kid who lived here. He went to our school what happened to him?”
Dave looks at me like I’m nuts then turns to Jean. “What’s with Andréa? Is she drinking or something? The cops said nobody is living here. The landlord is bitching because he can’t rent it out because of the cops. Andréa who is this kid? You said he goes to our school.”
I am proud of my sister she is quick saving me from searching for an impossible answer. “Andréa is mistaken some kid told us at the library he went to our school. Andréa and I gave him a ride home. He said he lived here. He said his name was Andrew. I’m guessing it was bull just some dude trying to hit on us.”
Wow, I have a lot to learn my sister is a professional bullshit artist. No wonder she kicked that Trickster’s ass. I smiled gazing into Dave’s eyes and he suddenly blushed then he directed his comment to me.
“Guys I’d like to talk longer but I’m getting the evil eye. Nice seeing you again Andréa, you too jean. Do you mind if I call you sometime Andi?”
I smile “If you want,” then snicker at Jean.
Jean and I sit in the car watching cops crawl all over the place then I ask her. “What did you say to Dave Bemis to explain there are two of you? I expected a total freak out when he walked to the back of the van with you and saw me standing there. Over these past few days I’ve seen you in action I’m convinced you are a world class bullshit artist. This trick I have got to hear it, spill”
I could tell from her expression she did not want to answer so I prodded. “You are as bad as Bella, spill.”
“Andi you won’t believe this. I walked to the side of the van where Dave stood putting a camera onto the back seat. He looked at me with this sick puppy dog glare. You know the one, well on second thought being a guy until a couple days ago perhaps not. It is that look believe me you will get it soon enough. He said almost blushing, wow Andréa you look great. I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to see if you’d like to go out sometime. I said I’m not Andréa. He thought I was you joking and said you’re Jean? Jean never wears dresses, Andi is the girl twin.” I wanted to hit him so I said; don’t I look like a girl?” I dragged him out to the back saying, “Here she is.”
I stare at Jean, “Bullshit, Andréa has never met Dave or anyone else at school.”
“Tell me about it,” Jean says to me and at the same time we look at each other both saying, “Bella.”
I told you at the beginning dear reader and now you know why I said it. I will repeat if you missed it. Never, ever open spam mail. See what happens when you read something you shouldn’t? It is too late now who knows what weirdness awaits us? It is that fear causing our hesitation when we arrive at St Michaels.
Jean is the first one up the stares to Mother Superior’s office and why not. This story begins with Jean being Jean and it ends the same way. It is me Andrew who is going to face the wrath of a serious no nonsense nun. I can hardly wait to see the rigid woman. I can see it now, “Good afternoon Mother Superior. This is Andrew wanting to show you my new hair style and outfit. Don’t I look just like my sister?”
My feet are frozen to the bottom step I’m not moving. I know the old saying, don’t let anything but fear stop you. Okay fear won and I’m not that rock known as Jean. Somehow it did not matter. Jean is the one who kicked a demon’s and has no trouble dragging me into the lion’s den. The woman in the penguin suit gazes over the two of us sweeping our skirts sitting properly like a couple of angels. She is actually smiling as she greets us, “I am so happy you could come in this afternoon. Most importantly, how are you girls feeling? You had everyone worried. All of the nuns were praying for you. We were very concerned.”
“I could barely eep out a very meek, very soft, “I am fine thank you.” While my sister the slayer who kicked a devil’s ass in mortal combat had no trouble going on about how touch and go it had been for me, she gave all the credit to Doctor Belagosi. Then the next bomb dropped. Mother Superior gave us her view of the Doctor.
“Helmut is a wonderful attentive doctor. He is a priest; well you must know that since he has been a family friend for years. He brought you girls into this world. I am sure you are going to miss him now that he has been called to Rome.”
That did it now I am certain we are in an alternative universe. Even Jean is speechless. I guess that event makes this worth the price of admission. I want to run but Mother Superior is not finished.
“I know it has been both a difficult and wonderful day for your girls. Your serious illness, a lost of a good and dear friend in Doctor Belagosi and that wonderful surprise your parents told me about this morning when they came in to see me.” She stops suddenly catching herself, “Oh dear you have not been home yet to see it. Please do not let on I Almost spilled the beans.” Without missing a beat or giving us a minute to recover she piles on with more. “There is one other thing, my brother Paul is a Jesuit priest. He is a Dean at Gonzaga University He is so impressed with your academic standing he is prepared to offer both of you girls a full scholarship. You understand that is predicated upon you keeping your grades up. I am sure this is too much for one day. I will see you girls Monday and give my blessing to your parents.”
Jean and I were almost home when my sister was able to speak. “Andréa I bet Mother Superior if she knew who Belagosi really is would totally freak.” We both laughed and I’m grateful for her comment as it allowed me to momentarily forget what I imagined awaits me. Seriously, I’m expected to accept two people who were total strangers a few days ago believe I’m their daughter. Typically Jean jumps out of the care dragging me into the house.
Both of us in our confusion and delirious state did not notice the obvious. The Phillips’ home is a single story Cape Cod house with two bedrooms and two baths. In addition there is the usual kitchen, den, dining room, living room and laundry area. Somehow while fighting demons, dealing with nuns and a heavenly doctor two dormers sprung up and a stairway leads from inside the front door to the second floor. I clearly remember Jean’s bedroom with the hole in the ceiling just this morning with Jorge peeking through it from the roof. There is a bathroom above it now. My bedroom morphed into a computer room.
Mom and dad are waiting for us as we stepped inside. After a round of hugs they drag us upstairs to show their daughters the new bedrooms. Dad is beaming as he speaks. “I know you girls thought we'd never finish this project but we did. Jean that is your room on the left. Andréa you are on the right.”
I am stunned and I can tell Jean is floored as well. Mom is hugging me and Jean at the same time trying to crush us. “Girls we heard about the scholarships we are so proud of you. You know that and want to see what your rooms look like. Dinner will be ready in an hour. Come Luke let’s give the girls their space they are dying to see their rooms.”
Neither Jean nor I spoke. I think this is the first time we are both speechless as a unit. I entered my room not sure if this is reality. I’m afraid some bad person is going to wake me up. My eyes are closed when I slowly open them I feel like crying tears of joy. I have two windows facing the back yard. A walnut vanity and the bed, wow, the bed is queen sized with a pink down blanket turned back reveals pastel blue satin sheets. A private bathroom is left of my bed and there on the other side a walk in closet. I open the door to see all those clothes left behind at my old house.
My door suddenly flies open as Jean is rushing into my arms hugging me. “Sis your room is just like mine welcome home.”
Dreamscape
This is a stand alone story about unintended consequences with a dash of humor. It is the typical tale of warning that you should read the fine print. Our hero Bradley discovered the fine print too late.
Rights reserved by author with usage permission granted to Big Closet only.
Bradley Marcus was the school social reject. Perhaps it was due to his physique. He stood about five foot seven inches and weighed close to two hundred pounds. If that was not the primary reason perhaps it was his general unkempt appearance or the fact he showered once a week most of the time, unless he forgot. Couple his appearance with his general attitude of his intellectual superiority. To say he had few friends would be too kind. He had none save a very few social outcasts somewhat like him. He was always tinkering with things mechanical hoping to be the first with the next break through. His many inventions had similar results.
He had invented the automatic Bread Butterer as he called it. The contraption appeared as a large butter dish with plastic cover. It was not too different than what you would see in the typical dollar store. It varied from the norm as it was attached to what appeared to be a plastic box on its underside. The box was an inch high and five inches wide. He proudly gathered his parents into the kitchen to demonstrate his invention.
Bradley placed a pound of butter in the plastic dish and a slice of bread into the tray beneath. Bradley then plugged in the contraption and gave his mother the honor of buttering the first slice of bread. Darla Marcus pushed the button which was her first mistake. The Automatic Bread Butterer began to smoke and shake from side to side. Then Mrs. Marcus made her second mistake she did not jump out of the way. Frozen in place she starred in horror as the machine spewed melted butter into her hair and face. The remainder of melted butter stuck to the walls. The plastic projectile flew over her head into and through the glass front of the china closet smashing more than one plate. It was a blessing for Bradley the circuit breaker tripped preventing a fire.
Darla spent many days chastising her son over the hundreds of dollars she spent at the hair salon to repair the damage. She frequently mentioned the doctor bills and cost of medications to soothe her minor burns. Mr. Marcus docked the boy’s allowance for the cost to repair and the china closet and replace the dishes. The parents refused admission to the kitchen making Bradley eat his meals on the closed in back deck.
Within a few weeks Bradley designed an automatic garage door opener to relieve his mother from the manual task of lifting the heavy door. The electronic lift would make things easier for her. After considerable apprehension Mr. Marcus using a ten foot handle pushed the button and to his surprise the door worked well. They all smiled from relief and with a smattering of pride over this achievement. A few days later Clayton Marcus heard a thump, thump coming from outside as he lay in bed. Wearing his pajamas he went outside to see the garage door repeating the up and down motion of opening and closing. The action was fairly rapid taking thirty to forty seconds in its round trip. Clayton rolled under the door to reach the electric panel to shut the contraption off.
It was in the morning when Darla found her husband lying face down with the heavy door pressed against his back. After calling 911 the very professional emergency crew pried Clayton free the door was not serviceable. The fire department has little regard for things like walls and doors that are in the way of their rescues. Perhaps it was the result of spending three days in the hospital or the back brace Clayton had to wear for the next three weeks. Perhaps it was the result of the man now having a permanent tick in his left eye. It did not help that a new door cost seven hundred fifty dollars and Clayton was in no condition to do it himself. Whatever, the exact reason Bradley was not allowed to go anywhere near that new door.
When you are as clever as Bradley set backs like this rarely deter because genius knows no master. A few days before high school graduation Clayton was working in the garage. He was mounting a new cabinet to the garage wall to store his tools. When he used his nail gun to attach the cabinet to the beams the recoil nearly knocked him down. The poor man had no idea his son modified the gun giving it a bit more power to make the job easier. Several nails flew through the beam and outer siding, gathered speed flying through the air like bullets. Mrs. Conway in her back yard more than a hundred feet away had just stepped back into her house as the nails slammed into the door frame.
Both parents breathed a sigh of relief just missing criminal charges. The civil liabilities were not all that severe as Bradley was required to replace a door frame. They were equally relieved as this week end their son was finally graduating. Hopefully the boy will be off to college. The problem was he would not be leaving until fall. Clayton battened down everything putting secure locks on every tool and sharp object.
For the most part of the summer Bradley stayed in his room. Due to his appearance no burger joint would hire him. His parents nagged him to clean up his act but they were silently relieved he only left his room to take meals. At least the boy was not doing anymore damage. But what of Bradley what was he up to?
Bradley was into his computer. He had a powerful gaming pc with 16 gigs of ram, a one terabyte hard drive and top of the line video card. The boy being a social outcast longed to be popular so he gravitated toward mud games. Due to his intellect and as evidenced by his mechanical creativity he had a great imagination. He could create characters and visualize scenes even though the games were text only. His problem was most games were of the hack and slash and world of darkness variety. He would spend hours creating a character and step out onto the grid only to discover instant death. He turned to games of the mush variety which required considerable character building. He avoided the ones that forced him to wait days for some administrator to grant approval. The ones he did find quickly dissolved into glorified chat lines rather than creative story telling.
The boy could be anybody he wanted to be and he was always a well endowed hunk. He enjoyed hitting on the girls even though he knew more than half of those girls were really guys. They all ended the same way, whoever he connected with wanted details. That ended his flirtations as he could not reveal his sorry self. The graphical online games were no better. What the boy hoped for was something where he could act out his fantasy without the possibility of people discovering the real Bradley. It appeared hopeless until he saw an add for Dreamscape.
He rapidly connected to the site so he could find out the details of this new world. It began by providing a fly over of the community of Crescent Beach. He saw neat homes of various styles from Victorian to classic log homes. Each were on large lake front lots with private docks. In the center was a large shopping mall with every possible need provided. The school appeared modern with large sports fields. Rows of business establishments lined the central inland streets. A large park occupied the outer edge of the business district. He noticed it bared a certain resemblance to the game the Sims.
Instructions stated the game was free and there were presently four hundred players. New characters would be closed off once they reach seven hundred fifty. Bradley also learned he could create the character of his choice and include minute details with their automatic character builder. The game included the ability to go to work, drive your own vehicle, take public transportation or walk the city streets. You can use the telephone and visit friend’s and neighbor’s homes. The interaction seemed limitless. Bradley was becoming excited and jumped right in.
“Welcome to Dreamscape” The opening screen declared as he hit the enter button. “Please read the rules as you will be responsible for your actions.” As to be expected Bradley scrolled beyond the three page disclaimer to click “I agree.” He missed the part that said the game runs continuously. “You must brake your connection to Dreamscape when not playing. Failure to do so allows other players to interact with your character. When such interactions occur you will be provided a video log of those events. Check your in game mail for notices.” As we have already learned Bradley was prone to jump ahead impulsively. This was no exception.
Bradley eagerly moved to the Character page. The first option requested he type in his character’s first and last name. Bradley thought for a moment trying to think of a strong name. It was never easy for him to select just the right name. He focused for a moment deciding on the name of Taylor Jordan. That was the name of the high school football team captain. He felt good using the name of a idolized local sports hero. Next came a request for him to select height. Bradley chose six foot even, not wanting to over do it. Next came weight. Bradley tipped the scales at two hundred pounds. Resenting his obese frame, he wanted to be skinny so he answered 140 pounds. He had no idea the desired weight for a six foot male was 179 and for a female 156.
Reaching for his sugary drink taking a deep swallow he moved to the next question. Body type select one, Athletic, bulky, skinny, fat, average. He selected athletic to fit his football hero. The screen flashed, “changing weight,” appeared. The weight shifted to 159 pounds. Bradley shook his head, ‘if that is what is required’. The next selection requested hair color, he chose light brown. In regard to length his choice was shoulder. His style became straight. After choosing blue oval eyes he clicked on the next button.
An odd choice appeared requesting he choose an accent. ‘Accent?’ he thinks, ‘they must have a voice feature rather than communicating via text. This will be interesting.’ He thought about it for a minute and chose Canadian. The others did not appeal to him. Rather than offer American it insisted upon regional accents. Too difficult for him to choose. Canadian it was. They were so particular they requested he select an option of vocal pitch, raspy, high pitched and so on. Getting tired and wanting to get through this he hit “average for the body type. Patience was not an attribute associated with Bradley.
Thinking he was done the pressed forward to the next screen. He saw the following request. “You must now upload a photo of yourself no larger than 75kb. “We need to see your face and the style of clothing you normally wear. This will enable us to present a realistic likeness for your online persona.” Bradley recoiled thinking, ‘they want to prevent those freak guys from playing females. That is what this is about’. He stepped back from the computer gazing into the mirror. ‘I can’t send a picture of this blob.’ There were no real pictures of him around anyway. He thought for a bit considering what to do. Bradley selected the option to save and return later. He broke the connection.
He recalled making hundreds of characters in his Sims game. All he needed to do was make an image of a guy with light brown hair. ‘That would work he believed how would they know?’ Bradley fired up his game looking for the right person. He found just what he wanted a set of twins named Taylor and Troy Morgan were college students. They were identical twin brothers with one exception Taylor wanted to be a girl and presented as one. He quickly captured a snapshot of Troy, renamed it Taylor so he could upload it. As he could not have two files with the same name he moved the male Taylor into another folder. Bradley shut down his pc determined to finish his game set up in the morning.
Bradley emerged from his room long enough to eat then retreated to his cave as his mother pressed him to look for a job. Ignoring that problem he fired up Dreamscape to resume. Again the program requested the photo. This time Bradley was ready to upload. He selected the Sims file he captured and began the upload which took but a flash. He marveled at the speed of the connection. A few more disclaimers fired up before the message reported successful character completion. “You now have your character and must proceed to set up.” It also reported that the game is in first person view. “You will see other players as they appear. Your character will appear to you as how you see yourself in real life. To check your appearance you must stand before a mirror or reflective surface.” This was reported in audio by a male voice.
Feeling somewhat excited and a bit impatient to get going Bradley viewed the option. He needed to pick a career. Options were given him as suitable for his character type. He did not like any of the several offered. The game maintained to get a balance for the community they assumed the ability to limit choices to the game’s need. It warned, “we don’t need five hundred lawyers.” Bradley understood that selecting Teacher because he thought that would be easy and he would be in charge of the work area. Once that choice was made the game offered another option. “You can choose not to play in occupation mode. In that way the game clock is set for evenings and weekends only. You don’t have to go to work. But be warned your character is subject to interaction with characters who chose to work. The game will auto respond for you. Points are awarded and your relationship score is reported in box, right side of the screen. This will inform you of the strength of friendships in a numerical score. The higher the number the closer the friend.”
Bradley shrugged at that considering it was similar to the method used in his Sims game. He quickly opted to not participate in the work hours. One reason was you had to spend game money on whatever you wanted and he did not want to waste it on clothes for work. He liked the idea of getting a paycheck without doing anything. Next he had to pick out a house which to his surprise did not cost him anything. He simply had to pick one from those available and within the price range of his occupation. He then found out the cost was actually deducted from his paycheck. Bradley groaned thinking, ‘this is getting too real.’
During the flyover he picked a two bedroom ranch with attached garage on the beach. It had a nice black SUV in the garage and the payments were small. He chose modest furnishing allowing the game to plug in a houseful of furniture. Again suited to his game persona. Bradley thought, ‘will I ever get to start this damn game?’
Dreamscape made another demand. It was bad enough he had to provide an e-mail address they now wanted a physical address. He opted to pass on that as it was optional. The game issued another warning. “With your street address we can send you our special head phone attachment. This option will present you with a the unique ability to feel and smell items in the game. It also eliminates the need to type your statements. When you type your comments the game translates that into speech. With this attachment you simply speak into the unit and your voice comes out in the tenor and accent of your character. You also have the advantage of directing your character’s actions by simply thinking what you want to do. Without it you must type directions such as, pick up cup or stand then walk to door”
Bradley’s eyes widen, ‘this thing is saying that I will actually be using a Canadian accent when speaking to others and there is no need to type. Cool.’ Bradley quickly typed in his home address and was advised he should receive the unit within a few days. He considered he was finished with all the setup and wanted to get into the game. He pressed enter.
The boy found himself standing in a garage looking at his black SUV. He glanced into the side mirror and saw his blue eyes smiling back. Yes it was the styled hair he created and he was wearing the same jeans and sweater the Sims character wore. He walked into the house noting the rather conservative furnishing and was pleased he had a big screen TV. The computer was rather decent but not the killer machine he had in real life. He noted the clock it read, 5pm Friday. Good to its word the game placed him at the weekend. The phone started ringing. His cell was sitting on a coffee table. Bradley noted his friends lists in the right hand box of the screen. There was Dave Blanchard with 25 points. Mark Billings 22 points Erin Gray 14 points. There were thumbnails of each and each were what you would call good looking. He thought ‘I need to get those points for Erin a bit higher.’
He answered the phone, “Taylor,” the voice began, “it’s Dave Blanchard. We talked at lunch today I wanted to know if you would help me with the teacher’s conference next Thursday?” Bradley a bit taken back suddenly remembered about the non work choice. ‘That’s how this guy knows me,’ he considered. Taylor responded typing a one word answer, “sure.” Bradley read his one word answer as it appeared on the screen. He began to regret opting out of playing work scenes. This guy he is talking to knows him but he has no idea of their interactions. He needs to review the file that is to be game mailed to him. Dave with a smile in his voice says, “you are typing right?” Taylor types “yes waiting for the unit.” Dave responded, “That’s why the delay. I hear you fine. Your voice comes across good.” says Dave adding, “do you hear me?” Taylor types “yes.” Dave answers, “it is better when you can hear your own voice.” He continues, “I will be looking forward to seeing you on Monday.” Bradley simply typed as Taylor, “ok Monday.” Bradley thought, ‘it takes too long to respond by typing. I best wait for that unit to arrive before going any further. I am curious to hear my accent.”
Bradley sat Taylor on the sofa while he reviewed the in box. The file stated the date and was titled Today’s Events. He watched as his character sat in a study hall monitoring students. It appeared to be a high school. Taylor walked out into the hall and down to the teacher’s lunch room. There was Erin, Dave and Mark talking with Taylor. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. To save bandwidth the vocal was missing substituted with a transcript readout. Bradley could still not hear Taylor’s voice. The scene ended and there appeared to be no hostility. In fact everyone appeared to like his character. ’That is a start,’ Bradley thought.
Out of curiosity he walked Taylor through the neighborhood meeting several people. A mixture of married couples and singles. He keep Taylor’s words to a minimum because of the annoying typing. Taylor received mostly smiles and nods. More than one invitation was given for cookouts and the like. Upon returning home Bradley noticed everyone he met were added to the box. He observed the points assigned and how the numbers were in single digits. Apparently none of the characters had piqued his persona’s interest. Bradley thought, ’none of them were single women’. He began to examine that relationship box to discover something interesting.
After the phone call from Dave the relationship for Taylor’s part showed Dave had jumped from 25 to 28. ’It appears we are going to be friends.’ Bradley thought. He noticed by clicking the options box he could see how the others viewed him. The numbers surprised Bradley. They read Dave 50, Mark 47 and Erin with the same 14. The single digits Taylor registered toward the neighbors were all in the high twenties in their regard for his character. Bradley thought about that and grew concerned. ’I’d better shut this thing down until the adaptor arrives.’ With that Bradley shut down his machine and began to lay out plans to endear himself to Erin. Now that he has seen her he decided she is beyond cute.
The next morning Bradley received a shock. His mother dragged him out of bed. “Bradley you have to get ready for work. Your father found you a job at his friend’s lumber yard.” Bradley gulped, “What!” “Yes son,” mother explained. “You will be loading building supplies on the delivery trucks. It is a good job and will help pay for college.” Bradley groaned pulling himself out of bed. “When?” “In an hour,” mother answered. Bradley groaned again.
It was three days later when Bradley dragged himself home from another day of drudgery. He had just completed loading a hundred bags of concrete onto pallets to lift on a delivery truck. He cursed his situation not knowing it was to become far worse. He took a shower for the second time this week bitching about having to do that. He gobbled down dinner having discovered the arrival of those head phones. He had to check the game.
He loaded Dreamscape to find it was Saturday morning. It appeared a whole week passed. Unsurprised as he did not opt for the work segment of the game. He checked the player box to discover his score with Dave moved up to 50 while Dave’s view of Taylor was at 90. Erin was reduced to negative numbers. ‘it not going well’ he thought. Bradley suddenly realized he could simply think about doing something and Taylor would respond. Taylor sat drinking a cup of coffee when speech suddenly occurred to Bradley. He spoke out loud saying, “another day what will I do?” The Canadian accent appeared very authentic, soft, warm and sexy. ‘Sexy? What the hell’ Bradley panicked.’ Taylor ran to a mirror, ‘Tits! I got Tits!’ Bradley’s eyes widened, ‘what happened.’ He quickly exited out of game play into setup. He looked into the picture file and realized he sent the wrong twin.
He tried to correct the image and redesign the character. The warning came “all selections final. You must create a new character to effect set up changes.” Bradley signed off and reconnected to the create a character page. The message read “Dreamscape at character limit. No new characters allowed.” He slumped in his chair defeated. ‘I don’t need this.’ Bradley tried to watch television but he could not hold any interest in the offerings. He returned to his room and sat in front of his computer. He shrugged, ‘it is an amazing game. I’ve played female characters before,’ he justified.
Back into the game Taylor answered the ringing door bell. A man handed her a bouquet of flowers. The note read, “thank you for the wonderful evening. Dave xxx.” ‘Oh shit!’ The soft Canadian voice responded though there was a noticeable smile from her lips. Bradley viewed the in box and watched Friday’s Events. He saw a woman wearing a short skirt exposing legs to kill for slide into a sports car. Sitting behind the wheel was Dave wearing a satisfied smile as his gaze was on those legs. They were seen eating at a beach front lounge both of them wearing smiles. Dave’s hand reached across the table to touch hers more than once. This was followed by a few hours of dancing where Dave rested his hand on her hip through most of it. Taylor appeared to not be offended in the least. To make matters worse with the head set he could not only hear their conversations but he could actually feel those fingers as they pressed against the hip. Then there was the good night kiss. Bradley thought he was going to have an orgasm as the temperature rose quite high. Taylor whispered “good night” in an inviting voice nearly melting her player.
With eyes wide Bradley sat there noting the relationship on Taylor’s part shoot over the 90 mark. ‘I am toast’ Bradley thought. ‘This Dave fellow is not going to go away.’ He though about those smells and the sense of touch. They were beyond anything that was technically possible. Then there was the ever continuing story that he could not control. ‘I shut off the damn machine and my character goes out on a date. How in the Hell can I shut that action down. This game has a life of its own.’ Bradley sat there starring at the screen his fear heightened. He could not nuke the character. There was no method that he could find to resign. His concentration was broken as Taylor sat on the porch swing. Mark was standing there with an alluring smile. Taylor glanced down to see she was wearing a short skirt revealing more leg than she wanted to.
Mark greeted her with, “hi I was just walking by and saw you sitting there.” Taylor nodded a, “hello.” ‘God my voice is sexy thought Bradley. May as well play along with him.’ Mark sat next to Taylor. Closer than was comfortable. He touched the nape of her neck. She turned to face him, unsure uncertain and unnerved. “Mark don’t do that.” Mark pulled back surprised, “are you sure? I thought you liked me.” Taylor shifted to her right the few inches the swing would allow. “Not in that way,” she answered. Mark leaned forward slipping his hand onto her left breast squeezing gently. Bradley jumped nearly freaking out. ‘I could feel that. This is too real.’ He hit the power button and sat there starring at the dark screen.
Bradley avoided the game for nearly two weeks. The boy was terrified out of his skin swearing he was not going to go anywhere near it ever again. As these things are prone to do curiosity was killing Bradley, he had to know. With great trepidation he logged on for what he hoped to be the final time.
He saw Erin sitting on the sofa next to Taylor. His view was from Taylor’s eyes providing a partial glimpse of his character’s body. Erin spoke through an instant message. “At last you are here we thought you were seriously hurt.” Surprised Taylor answered “Shaken really shaken.” Bradley of course did not read the logs so he was his clueless self and faked it the best he could. Erin nodded taking her hand whispering, “Dave never left your side.” Taylor smiled as Bradley noted the relationship numbers were at the apex for Dave and Taylor. “What happened?” Taylor asked. “You were nearly raped. Mark had most of your clothes torn off and you were unconscious.” Erin touched Taylor’s cheek, “the cuts are mostly healed. Dave came along catching him beating the shit out of him. Before the cops dragged him off. He is still in Jail. As you know there is no bail for charges of rape. We can’t get enough women to live here as it is. The law strongly protect us. Attempted rape or worse brings the death penalty.” Taylor blinked her surprise. “It is good Dave loves you it makes you safe.” Erin added.
Erin once satisfied that Taylor was ok stood up to leave saying, “Dave should be along soon. He had to take care of some business. I am not sure what. She gazes into Taylor’s eyes looking for something. Uncertain she speaks, “it is hard to tell these things are usually transparent.” Taylor with an odd expression quips, “transparent?” Erin nods, “I can usually tell right away if a man has planted his seed. It is the only way we can get new females to stay here. So many pass through so few stay. Once the seed is planted you are drawn here.” Taylor looks at the woman with a blank expression then nods as if she understood. The girl answers, “no seed.” Erin smiles, “in due time. Wayne and I are expecting which excites me because I so wanted to stay.” Erin stands, “until later” and hugs Taylor.
Shaken from the weirdness Bradley pulls back exits the game and searches for the help file. He reads the disclaimer that warns if female characters become pregnant their players are drawn into the game. The warning strongly suggested that players should not create female characters without considering the risk. He also learned that you cannot play a character of the opposite sex because the required picture contains data which can be read to determine your true sex. Gender will be assigned to your true sex. This is the reason you are not allowed to state sex when your character is created.
Bradley considers that. The twins he created were identical males. He used the same body form for both. He then remembered the program he had downloaded that allowed you to have the game treat your character as either male or female. In that way you could allow your male character to wear female clothing. He quickly checked the characters in the Sims game. The program he downloaded allowed him to check characteristics by a right click. He checked Troy yes he was a male. He checked Taylor it reported male treated as female. Next period starting Thursday, not pregnant, but fertile. ‘Shit’ he thinks I only wanted to soften his appearance.’ That answered the question of why the game assigned female to Taylor. They read the data those words, treat as female, period and fertile. Shit what is this crap about planting seeds and being drawn into the game world? Not possible.’
He clicked back into the grid to see Dave standing before Taylor with an expression of relief. Dave was unbuttoning her blouse and quickly nuzzling her breast with his lips. Taylor stepped back. Dave raised a brow. “Oh you want to fade to black and rejoin after?” Taylor’s eyes widen “I’d rather not do anything right now I am still shaken.” Dave nodded, “not now? All right I will respect that but,” he paused taking her hand placing it against his member. Bradley can feel it he can actually feel the pulsing. Shocked, Bradley recoils but Dave holds Taylor’s hand firm against it. “Please, it will only take a moment.” He was nearly pleading. Taylor unzips Dave’s pants and began to stroke with her fingers. Bradley was in a state of shock as he could feel every pulse. He could feel the tightening and the sudden explosion into his palm shocked him. Dave was smiling as he released. Through Taylor’s eyes Bradley viewed the large deposit in her hands. Dave reached into it with his fingers then traced Taylor’s lips with the residue. The girl seemed to enjoy it. She then cleaned him up using a towel. Bradley sighed with relief it was not something else that the girl used. Dave kissed her with passion which Bradley felt down to his weakening knees.
Once Dave had left Bradley viewed the two weeks of logs to find out Dave and Taylor had sex three times. It was a wild and passionate affair. He could feel the heat and experience the release of pleasure with each scene. With assurances that Dave would not come back this night Bradley left the game grid. He considered there was no way he will return. He did not wish to ever fondle Dave again or suffer his penetrations Bradley considered this world was far too realistic for him.
The news files revealed that Crescent Beach was on a planet colonized by an advanced society in need of raw materials. Due to the dire need and a falling economy there was no trouble finding workers to locate off planet. The problem was getting women to migrate. Few women were willing to exit a life of leisure on the home planet. There were enough prostitutes to satisfy the miners. There were also a few women who married the migrating farmers.
The problem was the lack of professionals. The professional class was relatively soft and had no desire to venture off planet. Since women were allowed few professional positions they targeted new male college graduates. The promise was a beautiful community, a good well paying profession and trophy wives. But where to get the women? The advanced technology allowed for “pulling” people in through their computer connections. Earth was a ripe target because of a large population of people with an entitlement mentality. They expected things given to them without accepting responsibility. The intelligent level was high enough to placate prospective husbands as long as the physical features were rewarding. Dreamscape focused on those who fit the profile.
Dreamscape was developed to allure players. They did not want any males and most were discouraged. They frequently left believing the world was not for them. A few remained but none were “drawn in” As for the women once a member of the professional class planted their seed marriage was automatic and the female became part of the community. They had very little resistance because the women were in love to begin with. They were pampered and were given a regal life. The ability to measure the photographs was infallible. That is until Bradley’s simulation appeared. Those who tried to fake gender were quickly found out and purged.
Bradley was shocked to discover the fine print. He had no desire to become Dave’s trophy wife. The problem he had was ever frequent dreams of the man and passionate feelings impossible for a male to sense. He decided not only to quit the game but to reformat his bloody hard drive. Two hours later with a blank drive and no sign of an operating system Bradley powered off the computer going so far as to unplug the thing. He even took his first shower in two weeks to clean off the dirty feeling he had. He dreamed of his fingers around Dave. That thought drove him out of bed two hours before he had to go to work.
His parents thought the boy was obsessed as he not only could not wait to work he now volunteered for all the overtime he could get. He worked 21 days in a row until his boss ordered him to take the week end off. He was losing weight and gaining muscle. Bradley for the first time in his life began to attract women. In another two weeks he would be leaving for college. A now trim young man who showered every day was an astonishment to his parents. Then it happened. He woke up grabbing his stomach complaining of pains. His mother rushed to his room just in time to see him throwing up. This occurred three days in a row. Finally his parents took him to the doctor.
Dr. Southern rubbed his chin as he addressed Bradley and his parents. “If I did not know better I’d say you were pregnant.” The parents gulped, Bradley nearly panicked. “Pregnant! How? what are you nuts?” The doctor replied you have all the symptoms but obviously that is not possible. It must be some form of virus.” He gave a prescription advising the boy come back in another week.
Bradley did not want to go near that game. His computer was still not restored and it would not be. He was terrified of it. His mother kidded him asking “when he was due.” Clearly he had a small mound in the right spot. He regretted losing the weight because that bulge became obvious. Excitedly he got ready for bed. The good news was he had not had any Dreamscape dreams over the last three weeks. His total hard drive wipe must have worked as there was no sign on life on the machine. He studied the bed and the small red button that would start his new invention. The Ultimate Massager he built into the mattress will provide a soothing massage throughout the night. He was all done with video games. Bradley crawled into bed, rested his head on the pillow and pushed the button.
In the morning Mr. and Mrs. Marcus starred at the hole in the ceiling that extended through the roof. “Mother,” he began, “they claim the force catapulted him three blocks.” As Mrs. Marcus wept her husband was heard saying. “Well you can say the boy was ahead of his time.” Shaking his head, “he should never have used that turbo booster. Come along now we need to go to the service.”
Taylor woke from a restful sleep her hand fondling her husband Dave. She kissed him gently as he rolled over to rub her belly. “No bad dreams last night love?” She, in a half whisper, “I think those silly dreams are gone forever.” Dave smiled, “I can’t imagine my beautiful wife ever looking like a fat slacker boy.” Taylor laughed, “it must be a crazy side effect from my pregnancy.”
On the other side of town Erin sits drinking her coffee talking to her husband. “Hon I know the government is having a terrible time getting women to come to this outpost but don’t you think Dreamscape is a bit too radical?” He kissed her while tracing the woman’s cheek, “don’t you think Bradley is much better off?” She tilts her head to regard him, “I suppose.”
I am Not a Girl
The Story of Alex
I don’t look like a girl! Do I? Alex asked his mirror.
This adventure is told in four chapters.
Rights reserved by author, permission granted to Big Closet
Synopsis
Alex Winslow our protagonist is your typical teenaged target victimized by the jungle otherwise known as the local school district. As in most stories of this type the author decided to focus on the inner conflict. Rather than the frequent story where parents fight the school district to allow their child to attend as a girl a different direction is attempted. There will be no homophobic attacks by redneck types. No angry jocks committing physical violence against our heroine.
Instead we ask the question what if. What if Alex does not want to be a girl? What if his family relocates for reasons that have nothing to do with this issue. What if because of his affliction everyone assumes he is a girl? What if he discovers this mistake means the bullies leave him alone and he goes along with it? What if his parents are in denial and refuse treatment due to religious beliefs? What if his bonding with best friends forever begin to change his outlook?
This is an examination of possible internal conflict rather than external. Because every story needs conflict. This is presented in four chapters approximately the same length as My Magic PDA The first three chapters are complete and the fourth is in proofing. Hope to get the first chapter up by tomorrow August 27. With the rest to follow in short order.
Will try not to bore you with more hints. The goal is to not produce something that has been done to death. Too many fine writers here to simply redo what has already been done. Who knows when the next story will occur.
Outline
Chapter 1 Digging Deeper
It bothered him every time other students teased him. It bothered him when he found puffy growth on his chest. It bothered him when he seemed to not grow. It bothered him a lot to the extent he could not wait to escape to a new town.
Chapter 2 Charting The Course
Alex had dug himself a deep hole. He could no longer navigate without a plan. A plan would be beyond his ability to craft. He had to enlist help.
Chapter 3 Struggle
Mother has discovered Alex’s secret how will she react?
Chapter 4 Acceptance
Alex comes to terms with the changes.
Chapter 1 Digging Deeper

Alex Winslow through medical circumstances that determined his condition did contribute to what happened to him. It was his parent’s refusal to act on medical advice and Alex’s reactions that made things progressively worse.
The setting, though vague in the story is in southeastern Iowa. The family had moved from an Iowa suburb of Omaha, Nebraska to a small village of five thousand or less in the farm belt. The move had nothing to do with the boy’s condition.
Rights reserved by author, permission granted to Big Closet
Revised with professional editor.
“I don’t look like a girl.“ At least that is what Alex keeps telling himself. He ignores what the evidence might suggest. At seventeen having recently moved to a new town on the other side of Iowa, he can start again. At five foot six inches tall with a slender build he is the right size for a girl. It does not help that his chestnut brown hair is long for a boy. His locks stop as they brush the top of his shoulders while framing his face. Perhaps it is the feminine style feathered gently as soft bangs caress his brow. The bangs nearly hide the trimmed mild arch of a brown thin ribbon of delicate lashes. It is this style that may have encouraged the teasing he received. He says it bothers him every time a passing citizen or sales clerk calls him miss. He does not question his refusal to get a more masculine cut?
It bothered him every time other students teased him. It bothered him when he found puffy growth on his chest. It bothered him when he did not to grow. It bothered him a lot to the extent he could not wait to escape to a new town. He discovered his chest hairs were falling out.
Alex looks into the mirror as he adjusts his heart shaped gold earrings. Yes in the plural they are a pair. He did that as a reaction to the teasing at his last school. To his way of thinking try as he might he could not change their behavior. As he stood in front of the mirror he thought, ‘ok I will give them something to rant about.’ He succeeded with his rash action because his situation became worse. The teasing increased compounding the lad’s misery. Fortunately, he escaped the urban jungle to a rural conservative village of less than five thousand. Alex questioned if this may not be worse considering what he had heard about the Bible Belt. How different could it be from what he faced at home? His parents were Fundamentalists believing everything was according to the Lord’s plan.
That may explain just why his parents decided to forgo treatment for Alex’s condition. He suffered from gynecomastia having a perfectly formed pair of 32A breast. They were exactly where you would expect them to be. The doctor explained in brief when his father demanded to know. Norman pressed the issue, “just what is going on?”
Doctor Grant explained in a clinical voice. “The condition can occur physiologically in neonates and caused in part by female hormones in the mother. It can occur rarely in adolescence and in the elderly. Both in adolescence and elderly it is an abnormal condition associated with disease or metabolic disorders. In adolescent boys the condition is often a source of distress. For the large majority of boys whose pubescent gynecomastia is not due to obesity, the breast development shrinks or disappears within a couple of years.”
Norman Winslow processed this information from Dr. Grant. He focused on one phrase. “The breast development shrinks or disappears within a couple of years.” To Norman this meant the Lord was testing his son. The church elder understood Alex must bear this cross to emerge a stronger person. Gladys Winslow, Alex’s mother was not so sure but she knew her role was to support her husband. She always had been a good wife. She asked herself, ‘when did being a good wife become a conflict with being a good mother?’
The doctor ran tests to determine there was an elevation in estrogen and a lower than normal testosterone. His recommendation was to treat with injections of the latter.
Alex’s parents objected claiming that the Lord will heal their son. Dr. Grant hesitated to challenge the parents. He heard this reaction often from people in this area. The Doctor agreed to nothing and monitor. He advised the parents that if the situation worsened they would have to allow treatment or face possible state intervention. Doctor Grant provided a medical exemption to excuse participation in gym for Alex. The doctor knew full well the harassment the boy would face. He did not tell them was if left untreated Alex could actually begin to lactate. That is in the extreme and not likely. Perhaps he should have, the fear alone may have panicked the family into accepting treatment.
Doctor Grant thought that unlikely. He believed close monitoring of the hormone levels would reveal what was going on. He expected that once Alex began late puberty the breasts would shrink. The parents refusal of hormonal treatment would merely slow the process down. He saw no immediate danger to the lad.
Alex had tired of repeatedly having to correct people. When he did they’d acted like the perceived girl was trying to play head games. Some in his old neighborhood thought he was a dyke. Most often they relied on various forms of name calling. Torment came physically in the form of the accidental bump in the shoulder as he walked the hall. They applied just enough force to spin him around Alex had no girl friend nor was his group of friends very expansive. He joined the reject group encouraging his fading further into the background.
His parents pressed him to become active in school clubs, groups and gatherings. There was little open to him as his passion was art. He had no desire to participate in band, chest club or some other, as he called it, lame activity. The years of high school had become pure torment. The boy had no difficulty accepting the transfer to the thinly populated part of the state. He had no intent to join any groups in the new school.
Alex had decided to go with the flow. If they wanted to think he was a girl, it would be fine with him. He adopted the attitude it could not get any worse. His big problem continued to be his abnormal breast. They were not the easiest feature to hide. The advantage was his small cup size revealed nothing notable unless someone looked close. This was an option he discouraged. Alex discovered they were enjoyable when he was alone. We will not go into that now. The doctor strongly advised against strapping them down to hide the minor ridge formed on his chest. Then again Doc Grant did not have to suffer the slings and arrows advice is cheap. He did suggest a bra. Alex’s father balked again bringing up the Lord. His mother uncharacteristically said “the Lord never had to carry them around. Besides if the Lord gave these to Alex why would he object to use of the garment designed to ease the burden?”
Mother, urged her son to wear a bra. Alex resisted as he believed doing such would make them stand out exacerbating the problem. At some level it would be an acceptance, an admission of defeat. He was not going to fight the “I am a male” battle again in his new school. He did not want to encourage or re-enforce the perception he was a girl either. Doctor Grant stated at their present size having support was not crucial. He did warn of serious consequences if they grew larger. The Doctor could not insist on surgery until he found the underlying cause. He chose a treatment regimen consisting of quarterly exams. The next one scheduled during Christmas break. Alex appeared to Doctor Grant as a confused boy who looked like a girl. He claimed to resent it. his actions encourage a feminine appearance. It was a classic case of denial. Grudgingly the physician accepted the parent’s Bible belt norms and waited for his expected crisis.
Alex agonized over the condition of his clothing. His narrow waist required rather small size jeans. The smaller jeans would not fit over his larger hips. Jeans that fit his hips were too long and loose at the waste. He solved this by tightening his belt and rolling his pant legs up. It added to his problem caused by his abnormal breasts. The solution was to wear large tee shirts though he really needed size medium. They had to be the Hanes Beefy style to hide his feminine chest. Wearing this combination did not completely conceal his secret completely but it was all he could manage. The look was not exactly high school chic. Tee shirts and jeans were the official uniform of the farm belt. The extra sized tee shirt worn tucked into the jeans helped cushion the strangle hold of the belt.
Gladys had long given up fighting with the boy when it came to buying clothes. She knew Alex would only wear jeans, tees and sneakers. She simply handed him some cash and dropped him at Wal-Mart. Money was tight and jeans are jeans according to Gladys. Alex relaxed when he considered his older sister Jamie was away at college. What soothed his concern was that his mother had not suggested he borrow some of her left behind clothing. He had a secret fear mom would bring that up. She never had. That was because of her narrow religious ideals. He noticed her glances when she saw a cute skirt or dress. He saw how she would gaze at him. ‘Oh no” he moaned thinking ‘we are not going there.’ Inside the store he stood in the men’s department holding up a size 28 waist 30 length pair of jeans. A girl startled him when she spoke. A sales girl approached, “miss those men’s Jeans will never work.” Alex blinked, “what?”
The girl offered her assessment. "To fit your hips the waist will be too big. I'm afraid the length will be way off." She introduced herself. “I’m Kathy a senior at the high school. You are new aren’t you?” Alex takes a breath. “Yes, a senior as well, my name is Alex.” “You look like a size six come on over here.” She walked to the misses department, “Petit correct?”
Alex smiled uncertain. She handed him a pair of jeans without any frilly design. Just a straight styled pair of Lady Wranglers. “Try these we have them in skinny if you prefer.”
Sheepishly Alex took the proffered jeans and stepped into the changing room. It was amazing how they formed to his hips while fitting perfectly at the waist. The length was exact as well.
Alex stepped out to see a beaming Kathy. “Perfect. You see I was right. With your figure you need to accent it. What about tops?”
Alex shook his head, “tees, white preferably.”
Kathy eyed him shaking her head. “We can do better than that.” She handed him a white soft combed cotton turtle neck.
Alex eyed it suspiciously. “I like them loose.”
Kathy handed him the next size up. “That will still hang right and be rather loose.” She eyed him carefully. “If you don’t mind it will not show of your,” she giggled. “You know.”
Alex smiled, “that’s ok. I go for comfort.” He selected several pairs of jeans kept the turtle neck adding a second in powder blue. Kathy also convinced him to buy two chamois shirts to wear unbuttoned over the turtle necks during cold weather. She commented. “Chamois is softer than flannel but offer the same look. Even the guys are wearing them.”
The buttons were on the wrong side he noted considering ‘I can wear them just like a flannel and they will highlight the turtle neck.’ Kathy helped him find a pair of white sneakers that were just the right fit. He then slipped back to the men’s department to grab three packages of those beefy tees. It wasn’t until he got home that he discovered those sneakers had a tiny almost unnoticeable pink stripe. It covered the strip where the shoe met the sole.
Gladys identified the jeans as girls but she pretended not to notice preferring not to bring the subject up. At the breakfast table Norman, his father smiled noting Alex managed to find some jeans that were a decent fit. The boy simply commented “Wal-Mart must have found a new supplier.”
Mom laughed inwardly not wanting to bring attention to the fact they were girls jeans. She did not want to test father’s ire, nor embarrass her son. Alex would do that on his own before the meal ended though the woman did not know that.
Norman finally broke what had become an extended silence. When he said, “Alex you should get your hair cut.”
Alex turned away looking toward the window. “I like it the way it is. I am thinking of growing it out”
Norman pressed, “you wonder why they call you a girl. Those earrings, that haircut, you bring this on yourself.” The man said impatiently.
Alex was doing a slow burn and did not want to prolong this argument any more. He was sick of it. He excused himself from the table going upstairs. He could hear his mother trying to calm his father down. Then Alex did something perhaps he should not have. He entered his sister’s room with the thought. ‘I will show him.’
Ever since Alex had returned from Wal-Mart the hormones engaged the lust gene. As he stood in his sister’s room his thoughts took a turn. Alex had envisioned Kathy while he massaged his male attribute. The small organ produced nothing. He could clearly see the pretty girl in his mind but there was no stimulus. It was when he fondled his chest the unexpected large deposit occurred creating considerable clean up time.
It did not take very long to locate a pair of short denim bibbed shorts designed that way. As some girls did Jami had not cut off a pair of standard bib overalls. She had purchased a girls bibbed overall shorts set with a matching light blue denim top. Alex quickly dressed in Jami’s outfit. He went so far as to include a pair of her white nylon panties. In the mirror he could see a girl wearing a three quarter sleeved blue top and a small unseen white bra with the overalls.
Dressed in his sister’s clothes he stepped into the kitchen. The bib straps and bra accented his obvious chest making it clear this was a profile of an attractive girl. “If I wanted to encourage them Dad, emphasizing Dad,” Alex began, “I would show off these.” He pointed to his undeniable chest. “It is not the hair dad, nor the earrings, it’s these. You want me to show you without the shirt?”
Norman’s brows shot up in surprise as he gazed at his son speechless. He tried to conceal his rage at the boy threatening to bare his breast. Norman crossed himself. Gladys thought, ‘he is beautiful.’
Alex’s father finally managed to speak. “You look ridiculous get out of that outfit.”
The boy stepped back having made his point. As it often goes with adolescents they continue to press when they don't have to. Events spiral downward when those raging hormones are in control. This time the hormones directed anger. “Dad this is the Lord’s will. He gave me this figure why should I hide it?” Norman’s eyes signaled danger and Gladys rested her hands on Alex’s shoulders and turned him to face the stairs. In a soft controlled voice she said, “go change.” Alex froze at the bottom step not moving. Anger certainly controlled his action. Alex being passive aggressive could not openly challenge but he could not yield submissively either. The boy looked at his father replying. “I need to go for a walk first.”
He found himself traveling toward the village over residential sidewalks with no destination in mind. A young man driving an older convertible slowed, gazed at Alex, smiled and waved as he drove off. Alex barely noticed head down with slowing steps compared to the speed he stormed out the house. There were several guys throwing a football in a vacant lot at Alex approached.
Suddenly the errant throw by a tall dark haired fellow landed on the sidewalk. It bounced once hitting Alex’s foot glancing up nearly hitting Alex in the face. Good reflexes allowed the boy to catch it. Alex examined the ball in his hand and smiled about the time he heard a voice call. “Sorry it got away. Throw it back will you?”
Alex looked at the dark haired six foot plus guy noting his friends smiling at him. With a classic almost perfect spiral Alex’s toss landed cradled in the guy’s hands. “There you go.” Alex called before turning to cross the street.
Jake flipped the football from one hand to the other as he watched Alex cross the street. He focused on those perfect legs exposed by the shorts. Each step Alex took caused more stares focused by several faces. Jake marveled at the perfect chestnut hair he simply starred speechless. He suddenly dropped the football resulting from an unexpected poke in the back. “So you aren’t going after her following your perfectly faked bad throw?” Pete’s voice needled him as the guys started to echo the question.
Alex reached the other side of the street turning toward the direction of his home. He had walked enough to mollify his temper. “Hey” called a voice Alex heard from behind. Alex turned to see someone gaining on him. He thought, ‘shit not in town but a few days and the bull shit starts.’ He stopped facing the expectant bully, “yeah?”
Jake looked at Alex with an odd combination of bashfulness and confidence. This was not at all what Alex expected. Jake extends his hand, “I’m Jake captain of the football team. That was a hell throw you made.”
Surprised, Alex smiles, “thanks but I was just lucky.” Alex considers ‘I will try to cut this short don’t want to antagonize.’
Taking his time to release Alex’s hand allowed Jake’s friends to catch up. Jake introduces his friends. “This is Pete, Max and Ugh.” The third boy offered a grimace. Alex laughs though he thought. ‘I should not have done that.’ Alex simply smiles dreading what comes next. Jake speaks again. “You did not tell me your name new kid in town.”
Alex laughs repeating “the new kid in town?” In an attempt to deflect the attention from himself he asks, “why do you call him Ugh?” He pointed to the house sized guy. Pete interjects, “he is our linebacker everything he says comes out sounding like an ugh.”
Jake now laughing with Pete and Max presses Alex. "The new kid does have a name, doesn’t she?" He steps closer to Alex. Alex blinks, ‘may as well get this over.’ “It’s Alex.” Then he takes a step back. Before anyone can speak Pete blurts out, “Jen is going to get pissed about this.”
Turning to face Pete Jake reminds him Jen broke up with him and it’s none of her business. This strange interaction is just beginning to dawn on Alex. As he turned his head to face Pete, he glimpsed his denim shirt. Then it hit him. In a half panic he said quickly after making a show of looking at his watch. “I’m late I have to get home.”
“It was nice to meet you Alexandra. Jake sensually dragged out pronunciation of Alexandra. See you in school,“ Jake finished with a decided puppy dog gleam in his eye. As Alex walked down the street in a deliberate measured gait not too fast, not too slow he faintly hears Max say, “wow is she ever hot.” This was followed by Jake answering, “hands off.”
“I am not a girl but I sure as hell look like one.” Alex exclaims as he almost dives through his front door seeking shelter. His thoughts ranged from, ‘shit to shit some more. I have to figure out a way to avoid school’. He calls downstairs to his mother. “Mom did you ever think about home schooling?”
His mother fired back quickly, “not on your life.” Alex slams his bedroom door. He stares into the mirror admiring himself having not changed out of his sister’s clothes. ‘It would be much easier if this was me. Those jokers thought I was a girl. ‘If only, they knew the truth.’ He paused, ‘if, No when is more like it I’m toast.’
Gladys calls up to Alex. “Do you mind doing me a favor?” Alex answers, “what is It.” His mother answers, “I have to go into town. I, don’t have much time. The school wants the doctor’s report by the end of the day so they can set your schedule. They are open for another hour. If I drop you off, will you run it in? I will pick you up on my way back.”
Alex goes down the stairs forgetting he had not changed his clothes. Mother looks at him with a wry smile. “I, don’t have time to wait you are going to have to go like that.” Alex blinks, “it will only take a minute.”
Mom comes back. “We, don’t have a minute. With all the kids coming and going do you think that secretary will even notice? Say you are just dropping it off. You don’t have to say who you are.” Alex gets into the car thinking ‘I am doomed.’
He enters the school walking the empty hall to the principal’s office. Mrs. Marsh looks up from her desk as Alex hands her the report. “The school wanted this today.” He hands her the form adding “my gym exemption is in there as well.” Mrs. Marsh glances at it adding “good we need that. I will mail your schedule tomorrow. You should have it by Thursday. Welcome to our school.” It was her answer that brought Alex to reality ‘I said my gym exemption. Shit! that was stupid’
Alex nods exiting without seeing anyone other than two girls who come out of a door marked guidance office. Fortunately, his mother is already pulling into the parking lot. Thankful the boy makes his escape to the safety to his mother’s car. He looks out the window to see two girls waving. Alex closed his eyes like a condemned prisoner would.
Mrs. March eyes the paperwork; the doctor was brief not fully describing the nature of the girl’s physical abnormality. It was clear she was having issues with her breast and possible future mastectomy. Mrs. March nearly wept thinking about the brave and beautiful young girl who gave no sign of the seriousness of her plight. Mrs. March also noted the previous school misspelled the girl’s name having spelled Alexandra with er instead of ra. She corrected that and filed the paper work.
It took the boy less than five minutes to shed his sister’s clothes and flee her room. He absently grabbed off a pair or her panties. The white brief type still in the package as Jami refused to wear them because they were after all grannie’s gotchies as Jamie had referred to them. He looked at them for a long moment wondering ‘why did I do that?’ He shrugged, tossed them into the corner forgetting about it.
On Thursday when the mail arrived Alex opened the letter from school. There was a cover letter and a separate class schedule.
His schedule, marked A. Winslow listed the eight periods day by day. The gym exemption was for the entire term. He gave the cover letter to his mother to remind her they needed a medical update to continue the gym exemption for the spring term. There was a note typed at the bottom of the schedule. Dear Alexandra welcome to our school we wish you a successful learning experience. ‘Oh shit it will be an interesting one at least.’ He thought.
Then it began, the phone rang. “Alex it’s for you,” his mother yelled from downstairs. Curiously, he picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Alex, it is me Jake. I wanted to know if you'd watch football practice on Saturday.”
The boy startled stammered “how did you get my number?”
Jake reported “you are the only Winslow in town. I see you bought the old Claymore place. What do you say can you make it?”
Alex hesitated, “uh Saturday no can do my parents made plans for me. Sister is in college you know what a pain that is.” He held the phone hoping to end this call. Fortunately Jake accepted the excuse. “Ok I will see you school after the holiday.”
Gladys came upstairs to speak to Alex. “I told you not to worry you made a friend already.”
Jake shook his head, “no Ma. He was looking for someone named Alexandra.”
Alex again looked into the mirror and he saw himself looking more like a girl. There was no hair on his legs as revealed by the short denim cutoffs he wore. His beefy tea mostly hid the curve on his chest but not completely. This was another one of those steamy August evenings often experienced in fly over country. Alex shrugged, ‘too hot to wear jeans to hide this. Oh well screw em’
At the dinner table Norman asked his son if he could bring a package to the post office to mail to Jami. Alex tilts his head upward surprised. “I thought we were driving out to see her.”
Norman answers, “we were but I have to meet with Reverend Morgenstern to review the budgets.”
“Morgenstern? A Baptist minister named Morgenstern. Dad how weird is that?”
“Don’t ask it is a long story. Your mother got called in because one of the nurse’s aides is out sick. So we, can’t go. Will you do it?”
Alex recalled seeing the post office across the road from the football field next to the high school. “Dad I was looking forward to seeing Jami.” Alex’s father looks up surprised as Alex was never close to his sister.
“Alex what is this sudden desire to see your sister?”
He struggles for an excuse before he blurted out something sounding like “I have not seen her in months and wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”
Mrs. Winslow giggles while almost coughing up her tea. “You have sudden guilt pains and need to confess you wore her clothes without asking?”
Norman cautioned his wife. “Gladys, Alex and I prayed for his forgiveness. Alex promised not to use anyone’s personal property without permission. It is not fair to chastise the boy. The Lord has forgiven him.” Gladys appeared humbled.
Alex smiles while pressing his luck. “Yes, I feel terrible about that and need to confess to her. I did not want to do it over the phone.”
Gladys nods, “quite right. You drop me off at work and then you can drive to the college. I can get a ride home. You need not worry about that.” Norman nods his assent. “Call your sister to tell her you are coming. She may be able to let you stay at her place over night. You can drive home on Sunday. I’d rather not have you pay the cost of a motel. You call me when you get there. Then call in the morning when you leave.”
Puzzled, wondering what kind of mess he got himself into he agrees saying, “I will call her tonight.” He excuses himself to go outside to sit on the porch. Alex sits on the wicker lounge his legs curled under him watching the sunset. The window behind him is open to the kitchen. His parent’s voices filter through though they are talking low.
Father says to his wife. “What are we going to do with that boy”
“Norman don’t worry he is a good boy just having a hard time. You can’t imagine how hard it is for him. I pray you change your mind about those treatments.”
The man says to his wife, “I have prayed it is in the Lord’s hands. We will speak of it no more Gladys.”
Gladys reminds her husband that on the first of the year Alex will be eighteen and Lord or no Lord it will be his decision and there is nothing his father can do about it. Upon hearing his mother Alex’s eyes widen. ‘I never considered that I can have them chopped off.’ He smiles, and then frowns. ‘What happens then? Everybody thinks I am a girl and that football player will beat the shit out of me.’
Alex’s watched two girls walking along the sidewalk in front of the porch. Kathy the Wal-Mart girl was wearing a white skirt with a green top. The girl with her was wearing a khaki knee length skort and red halter style top. Though Alex had no idea it was a skort, he liked the look of it. Kathy was a honey blond with longer hair than Alex while the other girl’s hair was almost the same as his. Hers, was a slightly lighter brown. Kathy noticed Alex; she turned to her friend. “See I told you just like yours.” Without stopping she waves to Alex, “Hi.”
The two girls begin chatting like long lost friends. “I like those shorts Alex. They show off your legs” Regan says. Alex smiles minimizing as he explained they were old cut off jeans. They had been laying around forever. With a blush he admits he cut them too short and won’t go out in public wearing them. Regan comes back with a teasing, “trolling shorts hey?”
Alex blushes as Regan continues, “like my skort the guys think it is a short skirt only to discover it is a skirt wrapped around shorts.” Alex nods, “but I am not trolling.”
Kathy giggles, “I hear you don’t have to you already landed Jake.”
Alex, flushes feeling the blush rise. “What are you talking about?”
Regan answers, “we saw the boy in town awhile ago. He is so into a girl named Alex. We thought he had a lobotomy. It was Alex this, Alex that. You are the only Alex in town we know about.” They both giggled saying in unison, “Jen is going to be one pissed prom queen.”
Alex in near panic asks, “Who is Jen?” The girls answer in unison, “Head cheerleader babe who dumped Jake and commanded her followers to stay away.” Now Alex gets really worried. ““Jake is not on my radar.” The girls smile emitting an elongated “sure. We have to get going it was good to meet you Alex. Oh don’t wear shorts around the guys.” Kathy adds.
Kathy Wyatt was in her senior year as well. The girl was about the same height as Alex, perhaps a half inch taller. She was a pretty girl who was not in Queen Jen’s entourage. Kathy settled into a group of cool girls everyone wanted for a friend. The girl with her was Reagan Anderson equally desirable and popular as Kathy. Reagan's hair style and color proved a striking similarity to Alex. With the same shaped face, height and eyes they could be mistaken for sisters.
The boy answers sheepishly. “Why do you say that?” Kathy looks to Reagan with a wry smile. “Like she does not know those legs are killer.” Reagan laughs, “right.” They leave saying they will see Alex in school. Alex nods and goes in the house. As he starts up the stairs he hears his mother. “Alex that letter from school mentioned a schedule. Will you bring it down here? I’d like to see it.” Alex nods mumbling, “K”
In his room he hurries to scan it into his computer. The top line read, A. Winslow, 17 Female, Senior. He quickly converted the file into a doc, changed the Female to Male and printed up a new sheet. He thought ‘this is becoming a classic fubar in a hurry. What the hell am I going to do? I don’t want them going to the school demanding a correction to that female listing. At least until I can figure out what is going on’ He gave the copy to his mother and scampered upstairs when she nodded her approval. Alex decided he had to call Jami.
Jami answered her cell on the second ring with a note of surprise in her voice. “Alex?”
The boy answered explaining their parents were not coming because of work emergencies. That did not bother her in the least which did not surprise the boy. Parents and daughter have been at odds over religion for years. Especially since Jami became a liberal who embraced all kinds of causes not favorable to conservative parents.
“I will be bringing your package up alone. Do you have room for me to crash with you overnight or do I need to find a motel? Mom and dad wanted me to ask you ahead of time.”
Jami with surprise in her voice said, “why don’t you just mail it?”
Alex reported, “I can’t because I need to see you.” Jami detected the strain in his voice right off. “Alex why are you crying? What did they do to you?”
The boy denied any tears. “It is a crisis and I have to talk with you. There is nobody else I can trust.”
His response surprised Jami. She knew Alex had no friends and was the school target. “You are the only one I can trust” Alex said.
Jami, puzzled thought, 'we are not close and never have been. This must be bad.' Jami could not imagine what this is about. She was beyond curious. “Little brother you must tell me what is so important?” Now she could hear the tears.
Between sniffles the boy told her, “not on the phone, please I need you.”
Jami grows quite concerned. “Alex are you all right is it safe for you to drive?” she could hear him as he gave his assurances.
Jami, somewhat relieved acquiesced in her resistance to Alex’s insistence he would be all right. Her curiosity about what troubled him had rose to a level where she finally answered. “Yes, you can stay over night. Tell mom and dad it is ok. Meet me at the bench in the south quad near the fountain. I will be waiting there at ten.”
Alex agrees with Jami closing, “see you tomorrow and please be careful.”

This is what Alex borrowed from his sister’s room to wear when he went to meet with her. This was the best way to illustrate his problem, he thought.
Alex had dug himself a deep hole. He could no longer navigate without a plan. A plan would be beyond his ability to craft. He had to enlist help.
Revised and edited. Rights reserved by author. Permission granted to Big Closet.
Alex darted into his room just before seven A.M. with a bundle secreted under his arm. The package he pilfered from his sister’s trunk contained the contents of the outfit he would wear when he meets his sister. ‘I guess I am not exactly sneaking this as I will show it to Jami’, he rationalized. He spread the items on his bed to examine and then folded them into his overnight bag. He viewed the mocha chocolate knit skirt with a suppleness presenting a feeling ever so sensual to him. It fit a conservative length falling just above his knee. The silky camisole style peach colored top with narrow straps both scared and excited him. He did not know if it was silk or not. It felt like silk to him. He secured a simple cotton bra with front clasps that did not enhance his attributes. If one can call a feature you don’t want an attribute. Others certainly see them as assets. He had also included a half slip that he wore under the skirt which did not show hiding any panty line. He tried on each item then nearly passed out when he looked into the mirror. The boy was terrified.
Mother could be heard calling from downstairs “it is almost seven thirty I have to go.” Alex grabbed his bag having just finished throwing on a tee, shorts and those pink striped sneakers. He suddenly appeared before his mother, “I’m ready.”
The long drive began with Gladys issuing the parental instructions in rapid fire succession. Poor Alex barely had time to respond as mother prattled. “You did not forget the package for Jami? What about directions, do you have a change of clothes and clean underwear?”
Alex giggled to himself, ‘oh yes I have clean underwear. Nice soft nylon briefs.’
Mother went on, “you have your license? You will obey the speed limit, tell Jami I love her and call when you get there.”
The boy nodded as he dropped his mother at work. She kissed his cheek upon exiting the car. Alex breathed deeply sucking up his courage and drove toward the throughway. Two hours later he reached the last rest stop before the exit to the college. Inside a stall in the ladies room he changed into his sister’s clothes. The cramped space caused him to bang his elbows more than once. If anyone noticed, nothing was said. He finally emerged looking like a pretty teen girl. His whole presentation changed and Alex knew he must become more aware than he normally had when he presented as Alexander.
More than a few heads turned as he walked toward his car. He could feel the eyes upon him as he experienced a new kind of fear. The boy had always been cautious using guarded actions because of the non stop abuse he suffered in his old school. But this was eerily different as he felt the sensual brush of his skirt and the warm air caressing his legs. He liked the feeling and the confidence generated by his obvious good looks. He had this feeling of foreboding familiar to people who looked like him. Alex breathed a sigh of relief as he sat on the seat, swung his legs inside as he had seen girls do a hundred times. He locked the door and buckled his seat belt. Alex focused on that next exit dreading his soon to be confrontation with his sister.
At about ten twenty he walked from the car toward a bench where he could see his sister. She was wearing jeans and a cami top not too different than the one he was wearing. Alex spoke on the phone while walking advising his mother he reached the school safely.
Jami sat on the bench with legs crossed looking at her watch. ‘Where is he? Typical, twenty minutes late. Oh well ten more minutes and he is s.o.l. I’m so out of here.’ She looks up to see a girl walking toward her about fifty yards away. The girl is talking on a cell phone in her right hand while the left presses a small package against her hip. Jami does double take thinking, ‘she is wearing an outfit just like one I have. It looks real good on her.’
Alex nears the bench where Jami sits. He has broken the connection with mother. He had to set the package down to place the phone in his purse. It only takes a moment to reach the bench; he smiles and sits next to his sister. “Hi Jami.”
The girl’s eyes open wider than any anime character‘s. Speechless for an eternal moment she speaks just as Alex’s expression turns sour. “What are you doing? Are you nuts?” She points to his breasts, “you glued those on or are they pads? What the hell are you doing wearing my clothes!”
Alex offers a hurtful look, his eyes fixed upon his shocked sister. “Your clothes because I need to illustrate my plight. Not nuts, desperate, Not glue, not pads, real. They are really me.”
Jami picks up the package from the bench. She stands taking Alex’s hand, “where are you parked?”
Alex points across the expansive lawns, “over there.” Jami starts walking with Alex toward the parking lot.
“I live in an apartment a few blocks from here. I will drive.” Jami says as they reach the vehicle.
Sheepishly Alex questions, “are you mad at me?” Jami shakes her head, “no just shocked beyond reason. I can’t wait to hear the story. I have to admit you are beautiful.” Alex blushed, Jami nods thinking, ‘it’s a girl alright.’
Jami sits on the edge of the sofa looking at her brother with awe. “First take off that top. I need to see this.” Alex blushes not enthusiastic about what Jami commands. “Sport I can’t help unless I see what you are talking about.” Alex blushes again but complies.
The girl stares at her brother’s 32A set of mammary growths. “J effen Christ,” she stalls, to avoid adding to her outburst considering her Fundamentalist brainwashed brother’s upbringing.
Alex sheepishly says, “Sis I’ve said worse than that.” They both laugh as Jami feels both of them. “Do they hurt?” Alex shakes his head giggling, “no to the contrary it feels good keep it up.” Jami lets go quickly barking, “I don’t swing that way bro. Cover yourself up and tell me all about it. Leave nothing out.”
The boy weaved his tale of woe highlighting how he had only a slightly puffy chest in the spring. Then by late July, these appeared. He tells of his parent’s reaction to Dr. Grant’s prescribed treatment and how prayer is the course of action.
Jami response is an outburst with a loud, “bastards.” Alex flinches as she continues. “What are you going to do? You can’t hide them.” She squeezes his hand, “you can’t strap them down more problems will develop that way. You really don’t want to go there.” She tries to minimize and lighten the situation by adding. “You are a heart breaker and you know it don’t you?”
Alex flinches nodding. “I’ve noticed and so have others.”
Jami narrows her brows, “others, what haven’t you told me? Out with it all Alexandra.” Emphasizing the feminine version of his name.
He slowly reports about Kathy, Regan, Jake, Jen, and the school secretary, exemption from gym, the letter and the school schedule. He included his parents know nothing about this. Alex sighed, “They all think I’m a girl.
Pacing back and forth Jami smiles, “so you can go to school as a girl. The captain of the football team has the hots for you. His ex is going to hate you and you already have two girls who are best friends. Christ! how I miss high school.” She added the latter with a taste of sarcasm. “It is not going to work you know. When they figure it out you’re dead.”
Alex sits back on the sofa smoothing his skirt. “I know but what in hell can I do? I can have them amputated in January.”
Jami watches her brother sit, ‘he has that down pat.’ she observes. Jami tells Alex to walk around the room for a moment while she thinks. He does so and she observes, ‘he walks like a girl. We might be able to pull this off.’ “Problem,” she begins. Alex blinks repeating, “problem?’
The girl nods, “you can’t have them amputated and expect no one will notice after four months of boys drooling over them. Even if you fake cancer going for the pity party route. They will still think you are a girl. Your transcripts will say girl. Did you think about that? Besides having an amputation does not address the underlying cause. In other words brother the reason you have tits.”
Nearly in a panic poor Alex can’t respond before Jami continues. “Then there is the football player. They have a tendency to get what they want. It is called entitlement. The girl friend will be worse. There is nothing like an angry queen bee. We need a course of action brother.”
Alex, mostly numb sits silently. “You came to the right place and you are in good hands Alexandra. But first you have to tell me do you want to do the girl thing or not?’ Jami gazes at Alex awaiting an answer.
“You know me sis, passive resistant. They all think I am a girl. Keep my mouth shut with a low profile and let it blow over.” Alex explained how he views it.
“Brother that will only work if you are willing to service Jake from your knees and somehow neutralize Jen.”
“No way!” exclaims Alex.
Jami smiles, “I take it you lust after girls not boys.” Alex shakes his head “I had not thought about it.”
With widened eyes, Jami says, “my sister is not a lesbian. Are you gay?” Alex claims he does not know he is just not interested all that much in sex. Jami considers this a moment before explaining, the breasts, the hormone levels, his absent sex drive. “Alex you have a problem deeper than what we know. Hold on help is not far away.” She opens her cell, “Rose can you come down here? There is a problem with my brother.”
Rose Brooks steps inside as Jami opened the door. She looks at Alex, “your brother? What is the joke?”
Jami quickly explains and Rose tries to take it all in to process the information. With a gentle voice Rose explains she is a Resident at the nearby hospital. “Do you mind if I examine you.”
Alex hesitantly answers, “I don’t mind but I brought the doctor’s report to convince Jami I was not pulling her chain.” Rose reads the report then offers, “it does not answer all the questions but it is a good start.” She leads Alex into the bedroom instructing him to strip. After examining his breast she smiles. “They are healthy did they tell you they appear to be able to produce milk?’ Alex blinks horrified, “no!”
Rose examines his genitals taking his organ into her hand. Alex blushes as she massages it to its full two inches. She shakes her head mumbling “this will be virtually worthless. Your sacks are tiny, too tiny.” She instructs Alex to dress.
Back in the living room Rose measures Alex with her eyes trying to read him. The expression Alex presents is of deep concern. Gently Rose offers, “you are a very pretty girl Alex. My guess is being a girl is your best option. Your parents though for the wrong reasons may have taken the correct route.”
Alex considers with a raised brow. “Wrong reasons, you are saying God is a wrong reason?” Rose shakes her head, “I am not anti God. But don’t you think God gave doctors the ability to help people and doctors are part of his plan?”
Alex shocked at the concept thought about it for a minute. He could think of no argument against that logic and answered, “perhaps.”
Rose continued. “If the doctor started you on the estrogen blockers the breasts would not have grown as they have. But we need more information considering, down there. I doubt those sacks could produce the testosterone levels required. I need to take some blood and run some test. Can you come over to the hospital Tuesday?”
Alex shakes his head. “I have to go home tomorrow and school starts mid week.” Jami closed the door as she entered the room. Her leaving went unnoticed. “Yes he will be there at 8 am Rose. I convinced mom and dad to let him stay until Tuesday.” Alex blinks.
Jami smiles winking at her brother, “sis you may help yourself to my clothes I mean since dad dragged the trunks across the state you keep them. You will need them as Dad sure as hell won’t be paying for skirts.” The other two laughed.
Rose cautioned, “we don’t know where this may lead. Alex may be suited to be a boy after all.”
“I doubt it look at her,” said Jami. Rose opened the door offering her goodbye. “I will see you Tuesday.”
Jami crawled onto the couch next to her new sister. “Here is how we deal with Jen.” She looks to Alex giggling, “I’ve known a lot of Jen’s.” Alex perks listening to his sister’s devious plan. Jami concluded the explanation of her idea finishing with, “we are going to conduct a makeup lesson then go to lunch. I have to get you an emergency pack.”
Alex’s sister calls someone she does not name. Hearing only one side of the conversation Alex blushes as his sister speaks. “Yes the fully functional vagina you guys came up with for your porn flicks.” She closes her phone and turning to Alex she quips, “you’ll see. Now go hide in the bedroom. I don‘t want this guy to see you.”
A few minutes later Alex sitting on the bed sees Jami enter. She is carrying a small box. “Strip!” she commands. In her hand is a fake vagina. She applies some liquid to the back then strokes her brother. Shocked! He shouts, “what are you doing?” Jami says simply, “I need it hard. Damn Rose was right this thing can’t do any damage.” The boy emits silent tears. Jami hugs him, “I am sorry I did not mean to hurt your feelings.” Still sniveling he murmurs, “I know.”
Jami slides the implement over his tiny shaft pressing it to his groin. “There now you look like me.” Alex stares in amazement. “Uh ok er now what?” Jami giggles, “now you can get screwed. They tell me in the production department those porn movie guys can’t tell it from the real thing. Ain’t technology wonderful? Making you hard allows room for expansion without the painful compression they felt in the old days. Oh yeah you have to sit to pee.”
Alex blinks as Jami reveals the rest of the kit. “Glue, tampons, just what you need to convince them no means no.” A red liquid she holds up, “do I have to tell you? It adds a touch of realism to sell the tampons.” She giggles. I’ve also included some mascara, lip stick and cologne. You can’t wear that thing for more than twelve hours without any issues. But use it sparingly. It will fool anybody. Oh Alex try not to fall in love. You really need to graduate a virgin. Consider who you can hurt.” She kisses her brother. “You are pretty.”
Early Tuesday morning the test blood was drawn and Rose told Alex, “call me tonight. I should have some answers for you I hope.” Alex takes her card promises to call and leaves with his sister.
Back at Jami’s apartment she tells her brother. “You better go home wearing your boy clothes. By the way I love your hair. Thanks for introducing my sister.” She kisses him and embraces Alex in a crushing hug. Alex stunned at what happened during the visit he dreaded responded, “I love you sis.” Jami pushed him out the door.
On the way home Alex called Kathy to glean all the information he could about Jen. He learned she worked part time at the village library. It was just what he needed to put Jami’s plan in action. His parents were waiting in the driveway when he pulled in. They pumped him with hundreds of questions and acted pleased when he reported how close he and his sister had become.
Alex picked up his camera and went over to the library with the excuse of something for school. He located Jen and quietly snapped her picture, several of them actually. He managed to get out of the library unnoticed by Jen and went directly to his room.
After speaking with Rose he sat to consider what the Doctor learned. It was not the final word and more information was needed before any decisions could be made. But it looked like girlhood was in the cards. Alex felt relieved everyone thought he was a girl and he could avoid the torment boys in dresses face in the school halls. He knew he was walking a fine line. He also knew people saw what they wanted to see based on their expectations. Alex needs to avoid changing perceptions. Alex mused about the implication of his testosterone levels dropping and estrogen levels rising. “These things are going to grow and when Dr. Grant runs his tests after Christmas it will be my decision. I just hope they don’t grow too much.”
He fired up Jen’s pictures on his computer selecting one to work with. He begins with an eleven by fourteen art paper and an assortment of inks. The focus is on her long sandy blond hair that falls to her behind. It is straight and silky. Alex smiles thinking, ’I am glad to have taken years of art classes, I can do this.’ He studies her deep oval green eyes that literally gleam sparkling like pools. Her heart shaped face with perfect skin. Alex blinks, ’I’m falling in love.’
Some time later interrupted by dinner Alex completes his project. He looks at the sketch admiring it. ’I must say it is good. Not an Earth shattering Van Gogh but passable.’ He slipped it into his sketch pad and crawled into bed wondering what tomorrow would bring.
The first day of school Alex anguished over wanting to wear that red and green plaid skirt and white blouse of Jami’s. He knew better slipped on a pair of jeans with his tampon loaded vagina and nylon briefs. He pulled on a beefy tee and yes he was wearing a bra. His small chest was barely noticeable to his parents hidden behind his sketch book and untucked tee. He tucked in the shirt on exit of the car to enhance his breasts. Waved goodbye to his mother and walked into the unknown. Tomorrow he would be walking the few blocks to school as they lived within the obligatory one mile line.
Alex was met at the door by Kathy and Reagan. The three walked in side by side. Right at the start Jen walked toward them fire in her eyes. She murmured a hello, “Kat, Rea who’s your friend?” The two girls knew it was about to hit the fan but Alex shocked them. “Hi I’m Alex and I know who you are.” Alex said excitedly.
Taken back, Jen paused a bit off her ire, “and?” It was all she could say. Alex pounced. “We have second period study hall together. I have something I must show you.”
The situation diffused Jen who simply nodded, “ok second period.” Her confused expression almost caused the other girls to break out into fits of hysteria. As Jen walked down the hall with her deliberate I am the queen and the queen rules sway Kathy dragged Alex into the girl’s room followed by Reagan.
“Ok spit it out what are you up to?” Kathy demanded while Reagan watched anxiously. Alex opened her, (her as in she presents this way in school), sketch book revealing the portrait. Both girls eye’s open astonished. “Wow you did that,” they said in unison. Alex nods, “I thought I’d kill her with kindness.” The girls laughed. “Please kill me” both said. Alex returned, “give me a picture you like.”
The fire remained as Jen walked into study hall she consciously made an effort to sit next to Alex. Jen was ready to pounce on her prey. Another girl had to change her seat to accommodate the queen. Every girl knew better than tangle with Jen. “This better be good,” Jen threatened as she glared at Alex.
Alex simply said, “I saw you in the library and was overcome with inspiration.” Before a stunned Jen could respond Alex opened her sketch book revealing the portrait. “For you I did it yesterday. I hope you like it.” Jen starred speechless as the likeness was stunning it captured her beauty. “You will need to get a frame I did not have time to find one. It would have to be selected with care to accent the picture. You know to do it justice.”
Finally Jen speaks, “why? Do you know who I am?” Alex shakes her head, “a girl I saw in the library. Why?” Jen looks at Alex taking the portrait carefully as if it would bite her. “Thanks this is lovely. But I have to warn you.” Alex blinks. Jen continues, “I was pissed when I found out about you.”
Alex narrows her eyes, “me why?” Jen for the first time smiles, “Jake, he was my boyfriend and he likes you.” Alex comes back, “I had nothing to do with that. I only met him once.” Jen laughs, “did he throw a football at you?” Alex nods. Jen says “first the football then the charm. We broke up because he wanted more than I wanted to give. He called me names and threatened to tell everyone I gave good head.”
Alex narrows her eyes. Jen continues, “somebody told me he had been cheating with another girl. They said a new girl in town. You are the only new girl. I told all my friends to stay away from him and I would deal with you.” Alex nodded, “I only saw him once.”
Jen comments, “I believe you considering the way Jake can be.” She glances at the picture, “there is passion in that drawing.” Jen suddenly smiles, “do you like girls?” Alex widens her eyes “I never thought about that.” Jen gazes at Alex tossing her hair, “either have I.” They ended their conversation, “if I ever think about girls, I’ll let you know.” She leans closer whispering, “I don’t give head. The idea of putting that sweaty thing in my mouth is gross.” Jen laughs, Alex nods, trying to picture the act agreeing with Jen. “Oh” Alex begins, “about letting me know if you think of girl’s in that way, take your time because I don’t think that way either.” Jen laughs, “good I was worried for a minute.”
Through the first four periods it was unsettling and difficult to get used to hearing each teacher refer to Alex as Miss or Ms. Alex noticed other students reaction to the presumed her. Every so often a male student would steal a glance while the girls seemed to appraise. It made it easier that Reagan or Kathy were in each of the classes. In two both were in the class. Even Jen appeared friendly but that could be a ruse. The teachers were light on instruction the first morning as each class started with a getting to know you and this is what we will be doing flavor.
Alex stopped at his locker thinking ‘it is hard to think of myself as a she.’ He spun the dial opening the door and shoved his new books into his day pack. Three classes already assigned homework and Alex blew a breath of air upward into his chestnut bangs thinking, ‘demanding my entire night.’ A sound emanated from behind his left shoulder. “Hey!” Alex turned to see Jake with a big smile. “I just wanted to welcome you to Valley Tech.”
Alex issuing a blank expression, “is that what you call this asylum?” Jake nodded with a cool move of his head putting his extended arm behind Alex’s back and against the locker next to Alex’s. The pose appeared to Alex to be akin to the male leader of the pack staking his claim. Just then a softer voice sounded followed by a pushing away of Jake’s arm. “Down boy,” said Reagan. “You are blocking the entry to my treasure cave.”
The football player stepped back with a cheerful, “yes Ma’am.”
“Go pester Jen and leave the newbie alone. Let her find out how sleazy you are some other time.” Reagan replies.” With a laugh, Jake bows, “yes my Lady.” He looks to Alex, “later.”
Reagan turns Alex by pulling on her shoulder as the girl was watching Jake walk down the hall. Alex thought, ‘wow he is smooth and hot‘ Alex tried to purge that sinful and perverted thought when Reagan saved him. “I know he has a nice ass. The problem is he is all ass and wants yours. I hear you gave the drawing to Jen already.” Alex nods, “she liked it.”
The girl with hair just like Alex’s smiled, “Jen is showing all her friends. Be careful or you will be spending all your time with the easel.” Alex laughed as they joined Kathy in the Cafeteria. The three sat at a table for six and began to eat. Jen and her entourage walked by aiming for their table the new senior elites inherited. Alex watched this thinking, ‘just like the last school everyone in their place according to the pecking order.’
Kathy spoke up, ‘there they go.” An unnamed girl walking in tow with the queen bee smiled at Alex, “great picture.” The rest smiled, Jen waved and they went on to their corner. Reagan giggled, “score one for the new kid.”
Just as Reagan asked Alex, “what is your next class we,” pointing to Kathy she finished, “have gym.” A boy about five foot ten or eleven with dark blond hair stood before them holding his food tray appearing lost. A male voice from the jock’s table directed toward the boy was heard, “move along dweeb those ladies are out of your league.” The kid balked starting to turn.
Alex froze having heard this kind of intimidation over and over again. She measured the kid who stood there motionless as the Jocks went on with snide almost unheard remarks. He wore a blue oxford shirt with khaki pressed pants right out of the sixties preppy private school movies. He was fairly good looking, ‘cute’, Alex thought. “Are you going to sit down or what? You are blocking the view.” Alex said almost absently. Kathy and Reagan laughed as the boy sat leaving an empty seat between him and the girls. “I’m Brian,” he said.
The girls nodded as Alex said to Reagan, “you were saying about gym?” The girl flushes glancing toward Brian then back to Alex. “So while Kathy and I are sweating working up a gross foul odor. Ruining our perfect hair you will be doing what because you have bad tits?” Brian blinked as he began coughing trying to avoid spraying his mouthful all over the girls. His thought was as he stole a glance of Alex, ‘they don’t look bad to me.’
Alex flushed while Reagan began to apologize profusely realizing how hurtful that was. Alex remained cool understanding the girls had no idea what his problem was. The comment was blown off and Alex suddenly remembered this was nothing a girl would talk about in front a boy. “Will you stop kidding around, it is not my,” with a pause while darting those blue pools in Brian’s direction, Reagan picked up the hint. “Sorry”, the girl began, “I know that.” Turning to Brian she adds, “it is a private joke but we had you going.”
Brian demonstrated relief as he relaxes having gained control of his spasm. “They look fine to me.” The girls starred at him. One of those you are dead stares.
Kathy instantly chirps in, “so what are you stuck with?” Alex, in a low voice answers, “Home Economics.” The girls laugh. “With Barcomb?” they chime in unison while Brian adds, “me too.” All three girls turn to face him with a knowing smile.
‘Sewing?’ Alex thinks as he hears Ms. Barcomb instruct the class there will be a sewing project assigned to be completed by end of term. She passes out a stack of patterns one to each student explaining this is random. Each student will have something different. She then did a roll call asking what the student was assigned and writes it down in her note book. “No switching,” she warns.
Alex noted he received a simple pair of slacks and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the teacher say, “each one of you will wear your product to class the day of completion. She scanned her book and smiled as she spoke. “Mr. Patten you may change with,” she examines her book scanning, “Miss Winslow.” It would not do to make a boy wear a skirt to school.” Brian blushed as Alex cringed.
The three girls walked home together with Brian tagging along like a lost puppy. Kathy pokes Brian, “you got out of wearing a skirt huh? I bet your legs are better than Alex’s.” Brian blushed while Alex said, “I don’t wear skirts any more than Brian does. What’s with sewing in an Economics class anyway?”
Regan pats Alex’s shoulder, “duh did you miss the Home part? Economics is for the accountant class not the little lady who manages the home front. This is to train you for domestic life where you carry Brian’s offspring on your hip while juggling dinner plates.” Alex blinked, Kathy laughed and Brian blushed.
One by one as they walked down Maple Street each of the teens dropped off going into their homes saying, “call you later.” Finally only Alex and Brian remained. “Thanks for what you did,” Brian said as he turns up his walk. Alex could see his house two lots further down. “We live this close and I never saw you before?” Brian shrugged, “I’ve seen you. Can I call you?” “Sure” responded Alex and without a thought, “stop by sometime.” Brian’s eyes widen thinking, ‘did I hear that right? A total babe is saying stop by sometime.’ He almost danced as he skipped onto his porch. With a dream like expression he waved, “c ya.”
It was then Alex realized what he did or was it what she did? “I am going nuts trying to keep this straight. A girl to everybody else and a boy in my mind.” no one heard his audible musing. Once inside the house he was greeted by mother. “Alex how was your first day at school? Everything went well I hope?” Her voice would have been described at best as hopeful. Hopeful that he at least did not get beat up or tormented.
Alex had been half way up the stairs when he stopped to listen to his mother. Mr. Winslow was still at work. He considered now was as good a time as any. Though putting this off as long as possible would have been his preference. “Mom I got a problem can we talk?”
Taken back Mrs. Winslow narrowed her brows, ‘the boy never admits to a problem this must be bad.’ She guides him to the sofa, “what is it?” Gladys had a hard time holding back her laughter when she heard her son had to make a skirt from a pattern. He made her promise not to say anything to his father. Gladys knew Norman would cause a scene over this with the school. She also was aware the point is to teach the art of sewing and won’t hurt her son to learn this skill. But she questioned “why a skirt?”
Alex explained, “it was a random draw of patterns. The teacher allowed Brian to switch his skirt for the only pair of pants pattern available. So I was stuck. The teacher explained that it did not matter as sewing is sewing and the idea is to teach how.” Mother smiled “all girls in the class and two boys?” Alex nodded, “it is no big deal and it is better than gym.”
She agreed to allow him use of her sewing machine and would help him pick out the materials and give him tips. ‘But why was Brian allowed pants and not my son?’ She said to Alex, “I will call the school to complain the other boy got preferential treatment.” Alex screamed no, “It will make me look like a cry baby. I don’t want that kind of attention.” Considering all the trouble the faced at the other school Gladys quickly agreed to let it drop.
Gladys looked at her son with raised brows as he had forgotten to untuck his shirt. “Alex did you go to school like that?” Alex glances down at his obvious breasts, blushes quickly responding. “No I wore the shirt pulled out.” He pulled the shirt tails out from under his belt allowing it to blouse over him. His chest appeared flat. He finished, “I tucked it in on my way inside, why?” His mother smiles, “I was just curious.” Gladys believed her son because she knew he did not want to attract attention. She did not notice the sway of his hips as he climbed the stairs.
Alex dropped the book bag on the bed nudging it with his hip as he sat legs again tucked under. Kathy answered her phone. “You and Brian seemed to hit it off. Does that mean Jake is out?” she teased. Alex could feel a blush rise before replying, “don’t be silly Kathy. Jake scares the hell out of me, Brian doesn’t.” Kathy agreed “I think Jen was right when she told you how he is. Though I think Jen did what he wanted and she is not about to admit it. Jake dumped her for other conquest. What do you think?”
Alex exhales slowly before agreeing. Kathy devilishly pursues her train of thought. “You know Brian would be good cover. It would keep the others away. Well not completely. You know how territorial those Neanderthals are.” Alex laughs, “I don’t want to use anybody.”
“But girlfriend I can tell you like him. You just gave yourself away.” Kathy waits for a reaction. Alex responds by saying, “Great imagination you have there. Gotta go see you tomorrow.” Alex ends the conversation even more confused than before.
Back at school the cheerleaders are huddled having finished their practice. A tall stunning girl says to Jen, “What about that Alex girl. I thought you were going to put her in her place?” Jen tilts her head, “naw we talked she is not interested in Jake.” The girl widens her eyes regarding Jen. “You talked?” Jen nods, “she is cool I like her.” Jen retrieves the rolled sketch from her hockey bag. “Look at this.” The other girl smiles while she gazes at the portrait. “So tell the other girls the new girl is approved by Jen. Is that right? You aren’t hatching something this is straight?” Jen nods, “there are plenty of dweebs. Besides Alex hangs with two cool girls, Reagan and Kathy. They are not in our group but they are hot chicks.” the other girl smiles, “I will spread the word.” Jill packs up and begins her walk home thinking of how she will deal with Jake. She considers Debbie, ‘a real skank that Jake deserves.’
Alex struggles as he chats online with Regan. Alex concludes being a girl is better as he is not the target he has been all his life. ( he begins to regard himself as she from getting heavy doses of that perspective in school) Alex considers ‘she as he enjoys the attention and the friends he never had before.’ Reagan flashed, “What about Brian?” “Meaning?” responded Alex. There is a long pause before Reagan’s response appeared.
“Alex, Ben Arnold and I are going to the movies Saturday night. Kathy and Jeff Casey are coming as well. Why don’t you and Brian come along?” Upon reading those words Alex considered ‘both Kathy and Reagan are babes. They are both my friends. How come I don’t get all gaga when I hang with them? I’m not gay am I?’ The screen flashes again, “you there?” Alex breaks the trance, “yeah.” With a devilish twist Alex answers, “Duh he hasn’t asked me. You don’t think I am going to ask him?” Kathy types back, “you never know he might. You would say yes won’t you? It’s the new Potter movie.”
Totally confused Alex ponders, ‘he is cute,’ Alex balks upon writing those words on the screen. “C-ya,” appears suddenly as Kathy reports she has to run. Alex shuts down the P.C. and calls his sister. The whole story poured out. Every detail of Alex’s plight since they parted earlier in the week is reported.
Jami could literally hear the tears over the phone. Her heart went out to her conflicted brother. “Let me get this straight everybody thinks you are a girl. The school, your friends,” she pauses. “You have two solid best girl friends who are total babes, a boy who you met today, the head cheerleader actually was won over and the football hero is in lust with you. You have not told anyone, while mom and dad are clueless. Have I got that right?”
Alex confirms what Jami listed. The sister gathers her thoughts asking “how do you think of yourself?” Alex exhales slowly, “A girl that’s how. All day long I am in girl mode. When I get home I pretend to be a boy. Most of the time I hide in my room.”
Jami came back with the question she dreaded to ask. The one Alex refused to face. “Do you want to be a girl?” Alex heard the words as he tried to process the answer. “I think so.” Jami smiled, “you have no idea brother. You are being accepted for the first time and it feels good. Do you think that is it?”
Alex answered, “yes and no. My breast are growing my legs are definitely feminine. My fingers scream girl.” His voice softened, “I even sound like a girl. I don’t think I have a choice. Your question should be are you becoming a girl.” Jami heard this and she had to agree. She could not resist her next sharp comment. “I bet your treatment is helping. Those nightly prayer shots are sure as hell doing the job.”
“That’s not funny Jami.” Alex fires back. “Sorry sis but that is how I feel about this bullshit. You know if you don’t tell your friends the truth you won’t have them. You can’t win by deception. You know that don’t you?” Alex agreed, “what can I do?”
Jami takes command with her answer. “Do you plan to continue as you are?” Alex admits he has no alternative because to advise the school will be certain death. “Then what you are going to have to do is be a girl full time. This switching persona all the time will get you committed.” Alex nearly panics, “what about mom and dad?” Jami laughs, “just throw out your chest and say it is the Lord’s plan.” Alex resisted that idea thinking it akin to suicide. “Then what,” Alex asks.
Her response was not what Alex expected. “I will have Rose set up an appointment with a local OB. Do you know what that is?” Alex nods; Jamie repeats her question not being able to see his gesture. Alex repeats his nod aloud. Jami continues, the doctor will do a complete exam and perhaps refer you to a shrink. This is what Rose said is likely to happen.”
“A shrink,” Alex explodes. “You think I’m nuts?” Jami answers softly, “no sis you are not nuts. You are effed up for sure but you’re not nuts. They can’t make you a girl physically without a shrink’s assessment.” Alex relaxes, “what about mom and dad?” Jami sighs, “they won’t be told anything unless you tell them. Treatment is going fine as far as they are concerned. Just keep praying and you will be a mother before you know it.” She could not resist the last shot though she regretted it at once. “Sorry sis I’m just teasing. Go into my trunk get that silky black night gown and go to bed. You’ll feel better.” Alex thanked his sister. His cell rang again.
“Hello.” A shy voice responded. “Alex this is Brian. Kathy told me you guys were going to the Potter movie Saturday night. Would you like to go with me?” Alex noted the pleading tone in Brian’s voice. With a picture of Brian in mind a thought followed, ‘he is cute.’
Alex answered, “with Reagan, Kathy and their boyfriends?” Brian eagerly agreed. Alex took a deep breath, “on one condition.” “Oh what’s that?” Asked Brian’s excited voice. Alex said, “my parents don’t approve of dating so it is just a group of friends hanging out.” Brian beamed, “no problem. I can do that. Pick you up at seven?” He asked. “I’ll meet you at Kathy’s.” Alex answered. ‘Not here,’ he thought.
The gang of six sat in pairs as they viewed the Potter movie. Alex flushed as Brian’s arm slowly managed to rest behind her neck as he held the popcorn. Alex nervously watched the movie noting the hand holding couples sitting in her row. She whispered to Brian while tracing her eyes upward to draw attention to his arm. “It must be difficult to eat any popcorn in that position.” She giggled watching his reaction. Slowly his arm drifted away and his hand reached into the container. Brian sheepishly risked to accidentally rest his hand on Alex’s knee. She did not seem to object other than to react with a tightening of muscle he could feel. Toward the end of the movie Brian whispered into Alex’s ear. “Do you like the movie?” Alex whispered back, “yes it is fun.”
In the ladies room Kathy and Reagan excitedly peppered questions to Alex. “Do you like him?” They pressed the question because it was the central issue to feed their curiosity. Alex nodded rather unenthusiastically and the girls could see their friend sort of liked him. Kathy says “remember, only a small one time kiss is allowed when he walks you home. Hand holding is fine but nothing more, don’t be a slut.”
Alex laughs at that. “No danger there and kissing! Not.” Once outside the boys suggested pizza.” Reagan and Kathy looked at their watches shaking their heads. “We have to be home by ten.” The guys accepted that and they walked in pairs dispersing as each girl was ushered to their door.
Alone with Brian Alex and the boy reached his front door. Alex was in turmoil having watched the good night kisses both Reagan and Kathy received. That could not be allowed at Alex’s front door. Alex said, “goodnight Brian I enjoyed myself.” Glancing at Brian and his sidewalk leading to the porch Alex added, “I’ll walk you to the door.” The young man turns to face her, “no you won’t I will see you safely home.” Alex never thought that poorly desperate ploy would work. In fact the she in Alex would have been put out if Brian let her get away with it. ‘Brother I am even thinking like a girl.’ Alex thought.
Brian took Alex’s hand turning her toward the house two doors down. Alex thought quickly, “uh no goodnights at my house. Father works for the church and he will freak out.” Brian stops turning Alex around to face him. “I like you Alex can we be friends?” Alex smiles and Brian draws close kissing Alex then steps back. ‘wow she is soft and this feels so good,’ Brian swoons to himself. Alex is surprised as the boy takes his feminine hand squeezing it. Near the front step Brian waves then walks toward his house. Alex smiles at the boy then turns inside.
“Alex how was the movie? You could have had your friend come in what was his name?” Norman calls from the den. Alex pauses at the bottom step answering, “Brian is his name he had to go home. Like you his parents said be home by ten.” Norman steps out of his office walking closer to his son. It is like he does not see the growth of Alex’s breast. “I understand there were two girls and four boys. You were not dating then?” Father’s question confuses Alex, “are you saying I cannot date?”
Norman smiles “does my son have a girl friend?” He appears happy with that idea. Alex struggles a bit answering, “no dad do you think a girl wants to date a guy with breast that competes with hers?” Alex runs up the stairs to the bedroom slamming the door. She falls face first onto the bed head swimming thinking of that kiss.
A few moments later Gladys enters without knocking she is stunned seeing her son wearing a pair of Jami’s black silk pajamas. “Alex!” She gasps, “what are you doing?” Alex steps forward his figure betraying the result of the slow transformation. “This is comfortable and while you and dad are praying the Lord is giving me one hell of a figure.” Gladys raises her voice, “don’t talk to me like that.”
Alex not ready to back down says to the woman. “Mother take a good look at me. It is too late for Dr. Grant’s treatment.” Gladys turns her head away. Alex walks around the woman to face her, “answer the question what do you see?”
Gladys begins to cry “I am so sorry I put faith in the Lord and did not listen to the doctor. Can you forgive me?” Alex shakes her head touching her mother’s shoulder. “Forgive you for what? For the first time I have friends, I am being accepted and my life is improved. School is not a nightmare. Like it or not mother you have a daughter.” Gladys hugs Alex, “your father won’t like this.” Alex interrupts, “I don’t care everybody thinks I am a girl and that is what I am. I like the new me” Gladys blinks, “if that is so then we need to have a long talk.”
Gladys says to Alex, “come down here I want to see my daughter.” This is how she appeared upon arrival into the kitchen.
Mother has discovered Alex’s secret how will she react?
Revised and edited. Rights reserved by author with permission granted to Big Closet.
Alex woke up early on Sunday as demanded by father it was church day. None of his school friends attended the church his parents had selected. As Alex dressed in a white blouse, yes it was one of his sister’s conservative Oxford shirt styled blouses, and a pair of her navy colored dress slacks. Norman had no idea but Gladys certainly recognized the style. She said nothing to cause her son any more stress. Alex is under a lot of pressure. Gladys beamed at her new daughter’s attention to how she looked. She reveled in Alex's new found confidence and apparent ability to gain friends. Following the long sermon the family walked outside to the usual meet and greet. The minister directed them to the after service tea.
Inside the conference room people gathered in small groups. Their conversations centered on various church activities and social issues. People of all ranges of the pecking order made up the small gathering. Consisting of the well to do the middle and the poor they expressed whatever interested them. At the far end of the multi center which was nothing more than a large room one corner functioned to serve refreshments and meal prep. In an L shaped design a line of countertops, sink, range and refrigerator provided a functional kitchen. Near that arrangement close to the more formal conference furniture was a long table with folding chairs. Alex glanced toward the coffee urn and donuts adorning that table.
Alex demonstrated no interest in as she called it, sucking up talk. He said to mother. “I am going to see if they have any chocolate covered cream filled donuts. They disappear fast. “Gladys giggled interrupting her conversation with her husband. The woman’s social investment became distracted as she observed a strange interaction at the refreshment table. She saw Alex approach as a red haired boy picked up the last cream filled donut.
There were five or six teens at the service and like the red haired boy none of them wanted to be there. None of them appeared to associate with the others as they all had that, ‘can we get out of here’ expression. Gladys watched the red haired boy as he turned handing the donut to Alex. She heard the boy say “I ran ahead to get one for you and it was the last one.” As he offered it to Alex Gladys watched her daughter refuse with a kindly gesture. The boy turned to the counter and cut the donut in half. They then walked to a table where they talked, smiling a lot with each eating their half of the donut. Gladys barely heard Mrs. Olson the village busy body. When she said to Ethel Sharpe, “did you hear about the disgusting behavior on the bluffs last night?” Their tone grew hushed as Norman gathered his family saying, “time to go. I have to get back for the meeting.”
Gladys said nothing to her husband about the boy flirting with Alex. She thought ‘my daughter is happy. I have never seen her smile like that. What have we done to the poor child?’ The ride home was silent as Gladys, bursting from curiosity was dying to talk with Alex. Norman would be going back to the church giving the woman an opportunity to speak with her daughter. She walked to the bottom of the stairs calling to Alex. “What are you doing?”
Alex answers, “I am changing my clothes and will be right down.” Gladys says to Alex, “come down here I want to see my daughter. Do you understand what I mean?” Alex momentarily froze wondering if mother said what he heard. The girl inside beamed as she made her clothing selection and started down the stairs.
Gladys took in the vision as the teen appeared with the open kitchen forming the back drop behind her. Alex wore a grayish blue skirt falling just above her knees. Her pink camisole top featured string style straps resting on her bare shoulders. Alex feathered her hair forward framing her face barely betraying a pair of gold earrings of a floral shape. White running shoes covered her feet. They featured a tiny pink line at their base. The blue knee socks matched her skirt perfectly. Gladys wondered how her breast had developed without either parent noticing. Gladys also wondered how this lovely teen could have lived in her home unnoticed. “My Lord Alex you are lovely. Let me look at you.”
Alex did not know how to react she could only say “you are not angry?” The girl expected an explosion that reflected in her tight expression as she stepped from the kitchen. Gladys led her daughter by the hand turning her back into the kitchen. The stunned woman poured two cups of tea placing each on the table. She was finally able to speak. “Alex,” she says, “I noticed your jeans came from the Misses department. I watched you and realized you had no choice because of your figure. The hips and waist belong to a girl. I never saw the delicate loveliness that you are.” Alex sips her tea blushing, “what about father? He has not noticed has he?” Gladys shakes her head, mouthing “no.” She then spoke in an audible voice. “Am I to assume everyone at school believes you are a girl?” Alex nods.
Gladys shows her fear when she asks. “What are you going to do? You cannot deceive people it is not right.” Alex agrees defending herself by saying as she points to her breasts. “This is no deception they are real. I am happy mother; Reagan and Kathy are my best friends.” Mother nods raising another issue, “and Brian? He is what to you?” Alex blushes, “a friend.” Gladys widens her eyes measuring her daughter. “Does a friend kiss a girl goodnight after taking her to a movie?” Alex blinks remaining silent wondering how she knew. Gladys smiles. “When you walked into the house after Brian escorted you to the door your expression was the expression of a girl who had just experienced her first kiss. Alex a boy does not walk another boy home unless it is on his way. It was not on Brian’s way. So I will ask you, “is this fair to Brian?”
Alex clasps her mother’s hand with a gentle voice she half whispers. “In January, I will have an operation to become a physical girl.” Gladys raises both hands covering her face. “This will destroy your father.”
In response Alex in a resolute voice replies. “Isn’t this why father prayed? What could satisfy him a creature that is half and half with no chance of happiness? Would he accept the sick relationships allowed to someone like me? Would that please father more than the shame of having another daughter?”
Gladys exclaims, “how can you say that?” With a tinge of irony Alex narrows her eyes, “mother experts told me that if father had accepted Dr. Grant’s treatment my body would not have developed feminine features. Because he insisted in prayer claiming what will be is the Lord’s will I am becoming female. He is always obsessing about personal responsibility. It is time for him to accept what he preaches.”
Mother is shocked but she knew her daughter was correct. “Experts you have seen experts? Jami put you up to this didn’t she?”
Alex admitted Jami had her see a doctor who had confirmed her condition progressed further than Dr. Grant had presumed. Had Doctor Grant been allowed to begin treatments the seriousness of the condition would have been discovered. The treatments required further testing and checks. Without those test there was no control of the direction the changes would take.
The new girl spoke calmly to her mother. “Jami saved my sanity, don’t be angry with her.” Alex raises a broad smile, “besides she saved you a fortune by giving me all her left behind school clothes.” Gladys whispers, “I am not angry with Jami. I will be thanking her. You cannot dress like that in front of father. Please no, absolutely no love struck boys coming around. Father will think you are gay and call in an exorcist.”
Alex laughs, “mother it is the Catholics who have exorcism rites.” Gladys lowers her brows, “and our church has far worse. We just don’t talk about it.” Alex blinks, quickly agreeing.
On her way to her room the girl’s cell rang, “hello.” Jami was calling. “Hi sis just got back from your Sunday morning guilt trip right?”
“Of course,” Alex answered followed quickly by, “what did you find out?”
Jami questions, “in a rush are we? First you tell me. How are you doing do you still have your cover?”
Alex flushes answering, “almost.” She goes on to tell Jami about the movie and Brian. How he walked her home, kissed her and mom figured it out. Jami had to know more pressing Alex to tell all. After revealing how the red headed kid shared the donut and how Sean Fitzgibbons that is the red head’s name, flirted with her Jami laughed again. Alex explained how she was dressed now. Then described mom went nuts, exclaiming how beautiful her daughter is. Alex said, “that’s where we are.”
Jami, rather surprised considers, “I guess mom is not as clueless as I thought. So she is ok with it? She is not going to ambush you with dad?” Alex told her sister that she believes mom is on her side. “I am now getting the GIRL talk.” Jami laughed louder, “sis you definitely need it.” Jami then gets around to providing her sister with the information she called about.
“Dr. Bradley, do you know of her?” Without waiting for an answer Jami continues “I suppose you don’t. Anyway she is an OBGYN. Do you know what that is?” Again Jami answers her own question. “she is a female doctor and I don’t mean a woman doctor. She will see you after school on Tuesday. I will give you directions and you are to bring Doctor Grant’s report.”
Alex flushed finally getting a chance to speak. “I know what an OB is. What do you think sis? I am scarred.” Jami takes a deep breath trying to call up the right words. “In my opinion you are a girl. I think this will all work out freeing that girl.” She considers “I suggest you keep her away from dad. He will go nuts if he sees her. You are lucky that he is nearly blind to everything around him.” Another thought struck Jami raising concern. “Do you hang around any kids from the church families?”
The girl thought about that answering, “no other than Sean no one noticed me. Why is that an issue?” Jami wanted to know more about Sean Fitzgibbons. “Sis his family are farmers they live more than ten miles from town. Sean goes to another school closer to where he lives.” Jami could be heard breathing a sigh of relief. “Why is that an issue?” Alex’s voice ringed in Jami’s ear.
“Sis, think a minute picture an after church meeting. The group stands around discussing the expected Sunday N.F.L game or how the local high school hero tossed the winning touchdown pass on Friday night. Do you get the picture? Mr. Fitz struts over to dad saying, my son Sean has a crush on your daughter. You should be proud to have such an intelligent and beautiful daughter. He is trying to score points with a church elder and you become toast. It is called guy talk, though I doubt you know about that.”
Alex goes into a near panic “geeze sis that would be thermo nuclear.” Jami asks “can you see that happening?” The new girl thinks for an eternal moment. “I doubt it because they don’t talk and Sean does not go to my school. Shit, shit, shit. It could happen couldn’t it”
Jami advises “keep your circle of friends small. You think being a girl is cool you like it but” she allows the but to hang. “Girls, the pretty ones are objects to boys. They seek you out. When you are a guy girls will check you out but they don’t often become aggressive. You can keep your circle of friends small but there will be admirers. Sean, duh ring a bell? I bet you never noticed him. I bet you don’t know there are a hundred more just like him.”
The new girl somewhat shaken said to her sister “I had no idea.” Jami answered with “I thought not. We will have another girl lesson after you see Doctor Bradley call me.” With that Jami hung up. Alex sat on the edge of her bed trembling when the cell rang again. “Hi it is Kathy can you come over?” Alex checked with her mother and ran off to Kathy’s.
She walked slowly down Maple Street toward Kathy’s. Within a short distance she passed the second house which was in sight of her own. She starred for a moment at the walk leading to Brian’s front step. As she turned up the street her mother’s words haunted her. ‘Is this fair to Brian?’ That thought pulsed followed by another ‘why in hell should I give a shit? For Christ sake let me worry about Alex!’ As she neared Kathy’s an answer to one of her questions struck her. ‘Why should I be fair to Brian, Duh? Because, I love him. Good God girl can you dig a hole any deeper?’
“I like the outfit!” Kathy exclaims as she greets her friend at the door. “Come up to my room Reagan is already there.”
Alex followed up the stairs soberly reminded about Kathy’s exclamation she notice her predicament. She had not changed out of her skirt and top. She just rushed out comfortable in her skirt. She did not consider dad might be home when she returned. It felt good she liked it and whatever happens, happens. She entered Kathy’s bedroom to see a beaming Reagan bursting to present some Earth shattering news. “Glad you made it,” an excited Reagan said in her rush to spread the word.
The girls sat there as Reagan told how she learned from her cousin who’s next door neighbor’s brother was there to see it first hand. The keg party at the old bluff outside of town had gotten out of hand. The unnamed cousin’s, neighbor’s brother was well,” she giggled. “Do you guys know that perky little blond, Debbie Nelson?” The girls nodded. “Well I’m told he was about to drop his load into her.”
This was interrupted by a chorus of “Gross!” Regan continues her story. “Anyway he was about to when the long arm of the law seized him by the shoulders. He sprayed it all over Debbie’s face and hair.” Wide eyes came back with, “Yuck.” Reagan blushes, “and”, she points to Alex. “Your football hero was grabbed in a threesome with two skanks. I did not get their names.”
Kathy curious asks, “who was the next door neighbor or whatever, tell us the name.” Reagan laughs, “her name. He wouldn’t say other than she goes to our school. She was caught giving oral on another guy. They were all dragged off by the sheriff most of them partially clothed.” “Sooo,” begins Alex, “this cousin of yours is an innocent?” Reagan giggles, “not exactly, he was parked in a car elsewhere with Jen. He said she is a live one. Whatever, a live one means, but they were not at the bluff.”
Alex asks, “who is this cousin?” Reagan revealed she was sworn to secrecy and could not say. Kathy poked her adding, “Pete Reardon the team’s wide receiver. You just watch Pete will be walking down the hall tomorrow with his hand on Jen’s ass. She is a trophy and football players love showing off their hardware in more ways than one.”
The girls laughed and Reagan finally admitted it was Pete. “Screw him, he wants to act like a slut it is not my job to provide him cover.” The girls laughed again. Kathy acknowledged there will be plenty to talk about in school tomorrow. She then looked at Alex with a measuring gaze. “Allie” this is the first time I’ve seen you in a skirt. Don’t you dare wear one to school.”
Alex blinked back with a strange expression. At the same moment Kathy ran her fingers along Alex’s calf. “These legs are killer. I did not know you had gams that dangerous. Keep them hid or we won’t be able to keep the predators away.” Alex withdrew her leg slowly. Kathy grinned “I am not going to, and I don’t swing that way babe.” Again the room was filled with giggles.
On her two block walk home Alex called her mother. “Is dad home?” “Not yet honey,” came back a questioning answer. Alex speaks rapidly “I am on my way home. I forgot to change out of this skirt.” Gladys laughs, “I will distract him so you can get to your room. Do you want me to throw a pair of jeans and a tee into the garage?”
Alex says “no just give me a clear path to the stairs.” Her mother giggles saying, “I never imagined ever having this conversation with my,” she pauses collecting her thought, “child.” When Alex arrived dad’s car was in the driveway. She cracked open the front door to see mother’s back in the kitchen doorway. She was talking to Norman as the girl sneaked upstairs.
As expected the next day she saw Jen and Pete walking down the hall locked tightly together. Her mini was riding up and Pete’s hand was right where Reagan predicted. Alex blushed as Reagan said, “told ya.” Alex thought, ‘if her skirt gets any higher’ and giggled as well.
The buzz through the school reached fever pitch. The girls noted none of those named were in school this day. Both Alex and Kathy gave Reagan thumbs up as they sat at their table. It took less than a minute for Brian to plop down next to Alex. It was just before the unexpected happened. Jen dropped her book bag and pointed her attachment known as Pete to the hot girls table. “Be right over she said” before squeezing in between Alex and Brian.
The four looked at Jen with a shocked expression as the girl spoke. “Do you notice who is not here today?” The group cautiously nodded as Jen leaned forward with a consistorial gaze. “Kathy did you get my message?” Kathy regards the girl curiously answering in a guarded tone. “This morning mom told me you called the land line Saturday night. I figured I’d find out in school. Why didn’t you call my cell?”
Jen smiles, “I did not want to talk to you. I just wanted to find out where you guys were.” She tosses her hair. “I, didn’t think you would be out at the bluff. How was the Potter movie?” The girls narrow their focus at Jen. “And,” they say in unison.” Jen shrugs, “I will put it this way. It was my way of letting Jake know he can’t fuck with me. Aren’t you glad I like you guys?” She hurried off to sit with Pete.
“What the hell was that all about?” Brian asks the girls. Reagan smiles, “what a bitch.” This is echoed by Alex and Kathy with Kathy saying to the group. “It is her way of telling us don’t mess with the Queen.” Brian mutters, “I, don’t get it.” Kathy laughs pointing to Alex, “have Miss blue eyes over there explain it to you after school.”
On their way to the next class Kathy whispers to Alex, “I think Jen likes you.” Alex looks at her friend with an amused gaze. “What to you mean?” Kathy squeezes Alex’s hip, “likes you as in,” giving Alex a smaller squeeze, “that way.” Alex turns to face Kathy, “no, no, and no.” Kathy laughs bouncing into her Social Studies class as Alex goes toward skirt making 101.
Dr. Bradley stepped into her exam room to greet Alex, “call me Karen if you wish. My nurse practitioner tells me there are no signs of issues with blood pressure and so on. Dr Brooks, Rose as you know her by provided me with an update of your condition. Do you have the report from Dr. Grant? Alex nods as he hands over the report. “My parents are not aware of this.”
Karen nods, “and I, can’t tell them unless you say so. You will be eighteen in two months?” Alex nods as the doctor replies, “it will likely take that long to reach any decisions at any rate. Let me examine you and compare the two reports from Drs. Grant and Brooks.”
The doctor poked and prodded examining very closely the area of his genitals. She, ruffles her brows gazing at Alex with a bit of concern. “Am I mistaken or has your penis shrunk as well as your testis? These reports I thought may have been inaccurate, however, what I am seeing does not agree with either.”
Alex blinks again. “I, don’t make it a habit of paying attention to it. I don’t use it for anything other than going to the bathroom. Yes it does seem smaller.”
Dr. Bradley rubs her chin, “don’t be embarrassed it is not a crime to relieve yourself. Are you saying that you don’t get stimulated?” Alex blushes admitting, “well I do when taking a shower and I wash my” he paused pointing to his breast. “But not when you touch yourself down there?” Karen asks.
Alex admits the truth of the statement with a bit of embarrassment. The doctor begins to push personal questions. “What I understand is the school thinks you are a girl and you have not discouraged their belief?” Alex nods again pointing to his breasts “is it better to inform them and suffer the resulting teasing a boy with breasts would suffer?” Karen nods her head in agreement. “Your logic is sound and your friends your sister tells me both girls you hang out with are babes.” The doctor laughs, “you don’t have wet dreams thinking of them?” Alex flushes reporting with a positive voice, “no that would not be right.”
The doctor raises a brow regarding Alex. “What about other friends do any stimulate you?” Alex flushes at the question. Karen observes the blush. She is an expert on getting admissions out people and knows how to frame a question. “So there is a friend that causes you to get excited. Can you tell me his name, only the first name will do?”
Alex, quickly blurts out Brian,” he suddenly tenses up knowing he stepped into it. Dr. Bradley smiles gently asking “With Brian you are in the girl mode am I correct?” Alex nods, “I picture him kissing my breast and sometimes entering me. I know that is not possible and I will wake up from a dream covered with a mess.”
Doctor Bradley smiles “let me draw some blood I need to check some levels to compare them to what the other two reports claim. Your penis is half the size that Dr. Grant recorded. It was smaller as measured by Dr. Brooks. It tells me radical changes are happening and you can’t wait for the next checkup with Dr. Grant. It will take a few days to get the results.”
Karen Bradley spoke in gentle tones to the frightened boy. “Alex, I need to know the truth of your feelings.” Alex looked her in the eye promising to answer truthfully. “Good,” Karen Bradley said as she began. “This pretending to be a girl, is it a game or do you really want to be a girl?” Alex narrows his focus, “I, don’t think it is a game.” He described what a living hell his life was before moving across the state. He laid out how he was accepted and made many friends. He finished with, “I think I love Brian. I desperately want to kiss him and hold him and” his voice trailed off.
Dr Bradley said, “then what I suspect should not upset you. Your estrogen levels are normal for a teen girl. Your breast has enlarged from 32a to 32b. Your testosterone levels have fallen off the cliff. It does not appear you are creating that hormone. To reverse the process would be quite dangerous at this point. Alex you are a girl, almost.”
Alex smiles, “now what?” The doctor turns grave. “We need more tests. What I am seeing here is not anything that happens frequently. If you keep developing as you are, I expect you may begin to menstruate. There is no place for the excretions to go.” Alex half joking quips, “you can always cut it off.”
The doctor raises a brow, “not without months of sessions with psychiatrists unless there was a life and death medical reason. What I want you to do is go to the Women’s care center on West Drive. Give them this referral. They will do an MRI. Perhaps we will learn something. I am also going to arrange an appointment with Dr. Weber who will assess you for reassignment surgery.”
Alex questions, “reassignment but I, can’t do that until January.”
“I know,” the doctor answers. You need months of counseling first.” Alex nods her understanding. “I will see you in one more week Alex.”
On his way home Alex called the new doctor making an appointment for two weeks in the future. Alex was beginning to feel crowded like the walls were caving in.
Brian stepped back and took a long jump shot over Scott’s outstretched arms. It circled the basket dropping through the net. Scott grabs the ball bouncing it. He turns to Brian “you won that one. What is going on with you and Winslow?” Brian nods with a shrug. “She is cool we get along ok.” He continues to walk down the driveway with Scott following. “You know Bri; it won’t do you any good sniffing around that she is out of your league.” Brian stops and turns to face his friend. “What are you talking about?
Scott answers quickly, “well bro she is friends with Reagan and Kathy you are only kidding yourself, that’s all.” Brian’s ire now raised causes him to stare at Scott, “really?” He dials Alex’s cell. “Alex this is Brian do you want to go to a movie Friday night” adding “Just me an you?” Brian smiles, “you pick the movie, see you at seven.”
Scott looks at him just as Sandy Rice walks by, “hey Sandy got a minute?” The girl walks over to him all smiles. “I heard about the bluff.” Sandy blushes, “and why do you bring that up?” She shuffles her feet smiling at Scott. The boy touches her arm “I wanted to ask you what about Friday are you busy?” Sandy beams, “I’ll meet you at the Dog Shack say eight?” Scott nods, “it’s a date.” Sandy waves as she walks away. He turns to Brian, “we both have a skank for Friday night.”
Brian’s reaction was so quick it was almost as if his left upper cut found its mark before the words left Scott’s mouth. Scott landed on his back with Brian diving onto him. The scuffle lasted a few minutes before Scott’s father broke it up sending Brian home.
Kathy and Reagan sat in their favorite lunch seats arriving ahead of Alex. Brian joined them sporting a puffy cut lip. Reagan stared at him, “uh Bri how many times did I tell you not to pressure Alex?” The girls laughed while Brian blushed. “You should see Scott,” Kathy offered. “Why did you pop him Brian?” Brian shook his head, “I’m not talking.”
Alex appeared and everyone grew quiet. One look at Brian caused Alex to require an answer from him. But he was still not talking. Suddenly Scott showed up sporting a shiner. Brian started to stand. But Scott held both hands out motioning him to remain seated. The group looked at Scott curiously who very softly said, “Alex, Brian I am sorry. I should not have said what I did.” He turned and walked away. Brian got up and followed they talked for a few seconds, shook hands and Brian returned to the table with a grin. Reagan grabbed Brian’s shoulder, “spill.”
The girls walked Alex home chatting non stop amazed that Brian would slug his best friend because he said something nasty about Alex. “That boy is in love with you Allie,” chimed Kathy. Reagan added “totally gone.” Alex walked with her friends as they had teased non stop. She blushed often trying to get them to stop. Finally, her friends dropped off and Alex ran into the house. Her thoughts were on Brian as she listened to her stereo while spending an hour with the boy on her cell.
After school the next day, Alex walked into the Women’s care center presenting her referral. An hour later she walked out without the least bit of information other than her doctor will have the report in a few days. Alex had another wait so she shoved it to the back of her mind. Upon entering the house she saw her mother waiting to talk. “Alex you asked your father if it was ok to go to the movies Friday night? With Brian am I right?” Alex informs her it is only a movie nothing more than that. Gladys cautioned Alex, “First the boy kissed you after walking you home. You enjoyed it as you admitted to me. You realize the next step leads to another step further along. I told you before it is unfair to Brian to lead him on.”
Alex shook her head, “mother I am not leading him on.” Reaching her door she enters it slamming it behind. Alex even more frustrated by this conversation reached for a photo of Kathy. While starring at the silken long black hair of her friend, Alex slipped her hand into her jeans. She felt for the thing she often resented beginning to stroke it as her eyes focused on Kathy. ‘I love her hair I would give it a bit less feathering. Perhaps wearing a beret would look great on her’ Alex thought, as she continued searching for stimulation that was not there. ‘I really like how it frames her face.’ Alex suddenly stops realizing that there is no stimulation. ‘What the hell am I doing this for it is freaky.’ She stops putting Kathy’s picture back on the stand. ‘God that was so wrong.’
She sits there for several minutes reviewing what she just did. Pangs of guilt rise up. ‘That was just queer; I should not be thinking thoughts like that about my best friend.’ Alex squirms in her sitting position on the bed conflicted ‘what is wrong with a guy thinking thoughts about a pretty girl like that? Well perhaps it’s because I have crossed the line. Perhaps all this girl shit has me convinced I am a Girl. Father always said tell a lie often enough and even the liar believes it’ Alex closes her eyes for a moment.
Turning her head she notices a picture of Brian and she absently fondles her breasts while gazing into his eyes. It takes only moments for Alex to spasm into her panties. She moans, though sated Alex’s confusion morphs into clarity. ‘I like boys Brian turns me on Reagan and Kathy do not what the hell does that make me?’ Alex looks into the mirror raising a brow, ‘do I have to ask that question? I act and think like a girl. I look like a girl and I lust after a hunk.’
She calls Brian to relieve her frustration. “Brian what do you want from me?” Brian completely taken back has no idea what to say. He falls on the old reliable, “nothing.” Alex considers “I don’t mean things. I mean where do you see this going, me and you I mean.” Her statement was perfectly clear to her.
Poor Brian was confused. The poor boy was putting the lawn furniture into the garage as a fall storm was approaching when he got this call. He had a serious crush on Alex. But as Scott said she was well above him in the social order. ‘What in the hell is she talking about?’ He opted for a safe answer. “Alex, I, want to be your friend. I want to get close to you. I want to spend time with you. I want to know you. I want to protect you.”
The girl shook his answer was so romantic. ‘He was tall and strong and good looking and he wanted to protect me’. Her thoughts spun as she was trying to catch up with herself. “Is that all,” she says in a joking tone. Brian heard her tone, “are you laughing at me?” Alex answered quickly, “no I would never laugh at you. You are too important too me.”
Brian begins to come out of his daze. “Alex you said where do you see this going, me and you. Does that mean you think there is a you, and me?” Alex smiles, “don’t you?” Brian takes a deep breath. “Alex, are you my girlfriend?”
Alex catches her breath, “do you want me to be? I can’t give you what most boys want. I can’t at this time anyway.”
Brian rolls his eyes, again struggling for a safe answer. ‘Do I want Alex for a girl friend? Do I want to die and go to heaven?’ The safe answer suddenly appears. “What most boys want? I am not most boys, holding you and kissing you is more than enough. Waking up every day knowing Alex likes me is more than enough. I would never make demands of you.”
The girl smiles “so what was the answer to my question?” Brian smiles finally taking a chance. “Alex will you be my girlfriend? Go steady with me?” Alex now bubbling answers, “as long as you don’t tell my father. He does not want any boyfriends no matter how nice they are.” Brian answers, “deal.”
Brian sat in his room viewing a picture of Alex taken at a school event. He starred at those deep sparkling blue eyes that seemed to see through you. He took a deep breath raising a broad smile. ‘I never would have thought she liked me that much. Yes Alex, I will protect you.’ He rubbed his still sore lip and turned to his homework.
It was an hour later when Brian walked into the living room, “dad”. He said. Wayne Patten looked up and saw confusion on his son’s face. He put down his newspaper, “is something wrong?” Brian shook his head as he sat down
“Dad do you understand women?” Wayne laughed, ‘hell no son any man who claims he can is a fool.” Wayne studied his son, “does that have anything to do with that lip of yours? I did not quite buy that getting hit by a rebound story.”
Brian laughed and told the story of Scott, Sandy and Alex. “So you hit your best friend because he insulted this girl, Alex. Is Alex the Winslow girl do you?” Wayne asked cautiously.
The boy nods saying, “yes my question is about Alex.” Wayne tilts his head back. “I understand she is one of the popular girls. You have tended to avoid the so called school superstars. What happened?”
Brian shrugs, “we sort of hit it off.” He tells his father about the conversation with Alex. He just had on the phone. Wayne smiles, “I heard she is a nice girl. She is well mannered and there no drinking or parties. She has a good reputation. He winks at his son and darn good looking as well. You are telling me this popular girl that every guy is after called you asking for a date?”
The boy smiles, “not exactly but she hinted and asked some strange questions. We went out together last week to the Potter movie.” Wayne rubs his chin musing “so you did go on a date that night after all. I thought it was just a group hang out thing.”
Brian smiles “It was like that. Kathy Wyatt, Reagan Anderson and their boy friends were going. Kathy and Reagan asked me to join them if I asked Alex. Mr. Patten laughed saying “I understand this much. Two of the most popular girls in school asked you to date another very popular girl. That is an easy answer son; Alex had her friends get you to ask her.”
The boy blinks “Alex wanted me to ask her, me?” Now it is Wayne’s turn to laugh. “I kept telling you that there was a nice girl waiting for you. It looks like she found you. I take it you have another date with Alex?” Wayne cautions his son “you do know that Mr. Anderson is the president of the bank? Mr. Wyatt runs the Grange conglomerate for the Eastern side of the state. Mr. Winslow is the Comptroller for the district church.
Brian raises a big smile. “We are going steady dad.” Quickly adding “yeah but the girls are not uppity at all. You would think they were poor. They don’t even hang with the upper crust.”
Mr. Patten stands “son welcome to the club. Bring Alex over for dinner on Friday night. I want to meet this girl. From what I hear you did well.”
Alex stepped into Dr. Bradley’s office to get the results of her recent tests. The doctor took Alex’s hand and sat next to the girl. “You are the most interesting person I ever encountered Alex.” The girl blinked “what do you mean?” Still holding Alex’s hand Karen Bradley speaks in a soft voice. “I must share the findings with you and they are rather shocking. Considering the hormone levels the discovery is less surprising.” Alex blinks “what am I a freak as I thought?” Karen shakes her head. “No honey you are just different. Your body is at war with itself. It is a battle the male half versus the female half with the girly side winning.”
The doctor brings up the pictures showing the internal view of Alex’s body. “Do you see that?” she asks pointing to an odd shaped mass.” “Cancer,” asked in a trembling voice. Karen shakes her head, “no they are ovaries.” She draws her finger to another spot "and this is your urethra. It is a tube that connects your bladder to your penis. But as you can see here it forms a Y. One end connects to your penis the other to this.” She points to a one and a half inch tube like thing that ends behind his ball sack. There is a channel above it. “You see that channel it is just where it is supposed to be. Above the urethra the one that appears to just end. You see if the ball sack was not there you could pee out of both sides of that tube.”
Alex blinks, what is that channel?” Dr. Bradley answers without blinking, without pulling any punches, “your vagina. Consider this, your urethra connects to your bladder to your penis or you’re a hole below your vagina allowing you to eliminate. It has a small opening just below your vagina. Remove the useless ball sack open the vagina and you my young lady are the girl you were meant to be.” Alex begins to understand raising another question. What about my thing?” Karen smiles, “your thing as you call it could be several things. It appears to be a penis. It functions as one.” Alex raises a brow. Karen continues “the small sacks you have could not produce enough to combat the rush of female hormones you were producing. That is why you could not get an erection”
“So I am a girl,” Alex states with a noticeable satisfaction. “Karen cautions, “not so fast Missy there is a problem. You can’t wait until January.” Alex begins to panic “can’t wait?” Dr. Bradley shakes her head “your testicles have stopped producing and female puberty is screaming down on you like a runaway freight train. You will be menstruating any day now. I need to talk to your parents and we need to operate. You don’t want to find out what happens when that flow has no place to go.”
Alex shakes her head. “They won’t go along with it. It will be God’s plan even if I die.” Karen squeezes her hand and then hugs her. “Not even your mother?” Alex shrugs, “maybe.” Dr. Bradley says “your other option is to hang around the hospital emergency room waiting to pass out so we can do emergency surgery to save your life.” Alex promises to talk to her mother. Dr. Bradley said “I cancelled the appointment with the psychiatrists you don’t need it. I want to see you and your mother here after school on Monday.”
More scared than ever Alex walked home conflicted. ‘I am a girl after all. I won’t let my friends down. I can wear my hair long. I can dress in skirts.’ Her eyes narrow, ‘dad will freak.’
Alex dressed for the Senior Prom
Alex’s parents finally come to terms with the physical condition their child suffered.
While Alex discovers she really is a girl.
Revised and edited. Rights reserved by author. Permission granted to Big Closet.
Alex hesitated to bring the medical issue to her mother. She feared mother would somehow go along with father. Alex believed her mother fully subscribed to the teaching that wives are subservient to their husbands. She was afraid expecting that any minute she would have a period and die. Suddenly Alex discovered being a girl was no picnic. She decided to wait until the weekend hoping to enjoy her date with Brian.
Come seven p.m. Friday Brian waltzed up to the front door. He knocked as Alex ran down the stairs flying to open it. She did not get completely out the door before Norman intercepted her. “Are you in a hurry?” He asked with an odd expression. “Alex do you really need that long raincoat? You remind me of a pervert on a television show.”
Alex said “I thought it was going to rain.” Don’t be silly,” Norman says when Gladys appears at the door. Brian is beginning to get nervous. Gladys sends Norman back to his T.V. program. “I will handle it.” Norman grumbled something as he walked away. It sounded like, “kids today are insane.”
Gladys stood in the doorway saying, “Alex honey give me the rain coat.” Alex sheepishly removed the coat handing it to her mother.” Mom’s eyes opened wide as she saw her daughter dressed in a denim skirt. It was not too short and matched the cream colored blouse she wore. Gladys handed the girl a sweater. “I will leave the rain coat right here. Have a good time. Brian, take care of her.” It was Gladys’ way of saying behave yourself and Brian understood. He took Alex’s hand and walked down the street.
It may or may not have been a good movie the kids will never know. Alex turned to whisper something to Brian when he kissed her. His hand slipped onto her knee where it stayed. It may not have been the longest kiss in history but it did last until the end of the movie. They walked home hand in hand and at her front porch they kissed good night again. Alex went inside to face her mother.
Gladys turned to face Alex with a look of concern. “What is it dear? You look troubled, really troubled.” Mrs. Winslow drew closer sensing the seriousness of her daughter’s countenance.
Alex draws a breath speaking slowly. “I need you to meet me at Dr. Bradley’s office Monday after school.” Gladys steps back turning away from Alex toward the living room. “I need to speak to your father.”
“No mother you can’t do that unless you want to cause my death.”
Gladys stops in her tracks she turns with a horrified expression. “Don’t be so dramatic you make it sound like life and death. Your father would never hurt you.”
Alex frowns, “mother he already has and if you care at all about me you will see Dr. Bradley. Or I will surely die. It is that serious.”
Gladys, stunned at Alex’s dramatic statement blurts, “you are serious about this aren’t you?” Alex replies with a certainty “I have never been more so mother. If I do not get the proper treatment and soon, I will die it is that certain. Will you meet with Doctor Bradley or not?” Gladys nods her agreement as she sits mouthing a silent prayer. The weekend sped by rather quietly until Sunday evening.
Mr. Winslow had learned about the incident on the bluff and insisted on going to the school meeting. The Sunday evening special school board meeting was short. In spite of conservative outrage the offenders received three days suspension. Winning football games once again won priority. Especially when you have a rare championship caliber team. The players continued to get scholarship offers from major universities. The girls noticed their scholarship offers were being withdrawn.
“Obviously shaking your ass is less important than throwing a football and besides groupies are easy to find.” The Winslow's heard Jen's loud comment as her family left the meeting. Her father was seen slapping her. To which she replied, “yes dad it is ok for the guys to act like sluts but let one of us.” Before she could finish, her mother was seen dragging her toward the car.”
When the family arrived home Norman grumbled about unacceptable behavior in parking lot. Gladys was a little bit upset about this and commented about it. Norman cautioned her saying “the Bible has strong opinions about wanton women. There is harsh punishment for whoring.”
Alex went ballistic asking her father, “just how big of a hypocrite are you?”
Her father blinked blindsided by the outburst. Alex reinforced her argument by not backing down. “A Christian would be the first to forgive. Your church should offer scholarships to the girls. What a wonderful opportunity that would provide. You'd teach them the forgiveness of the Lord.”
Stunned, by Alex's unexpected comments, father paused unable to answer. Gladys almost burst out laughing. She had to leave the room to gather her control. Norman looked at Alex, “son that is a loving attitude the Lord would be proud.” Alex widened his eyes as his father's response surprised him. He expected another lecture.
“Ah then you will do it?” Asked Alex as father walked out of the room without answering.
Mother's fading laughter filtered into the room from the kitchen.
Alex’s cell rang she answered surprised that Jen was calling. She wondered what Jen could possibly want. Jen spoke with concern in her voice. “Alex did you hear about the school meeting?” Alex answers cautiously uncertain about her response. “Yes, it was a typical double standard. I hear you had a hard time in the parking lot.”
Jen answers, “I figured you and everyone as well. Look Alex, I know we are not friends but I also know you tell it straight. Was I wrong?” Alex pauses, “wrong about what? Were you wrong about the double standard, hell no.”
Jen tells Alex, “I got grounded. Dad did not like it that I called the star football player a slut.”
Alex laughs. “You said that?”
Jen tells Alex about the confrontation. “I got grounded for two weeks. I want to know do you guys see me as a slut because I dated that guy and now date another player?”
Alex thought about it searching for an answer. She considered if she thought Jen a slut, shrugged and replied, “no. You are a popular girl, very pretty and most girls are envious of you. Yeah some will call you names. Reagan, Kathy and I have no reason to think of you that way. We may think you are a bitch sometimes but that’s normal.”
Jen laughs, “what about the guys what do they say?”
Alex blinks hearing that question. “I am not sure. I have not heard any of them talk about you but you know how Brian got his fat lip don’t you?”
Jen laughs, “No but I am dying to find out.”
Alex tells Jen. “Scott was talking about a girl he was dating. Scott called her a skank because she put out. He then insinuated all girls are skanks and Brian might get lucky with me. It gives you the idea of how these guys think. Some of them have no regard for girls.”
The girl talking to Alex responds, “really those bastards really do that?”
Alex confirms Jen's question. She questioned to herself if the Queen really did not know that? “I bet every one of those guys give blow by blow descriptions to their buds.”
Jen, thinks ‘blow by blow, does Alex know I went down on Jake and Pete?’ “You did not hear any stories about me like that did you?”
Alex answers, “no but then again I am not a jock. Be careful Jen, they will use, abuse and brag about it.” Jen thanks Alex and cuts off. Alex puzzled wonders, ‘did I just create another ice princess? Dad would be proud of my doing the Lord’s work.’
At the Monday lunch session Brian showed a greater smile than usual. His lip mostly healed almost looked normal as he sat down at their usual table. He noticed that lately he has been getting more than a passing glance from several girls. Kathy leaned forward drawing her slender finger along Brian’s lip. “You are looking better babe.”
Another girl from the next table watched with interest. Reagan leaned over whispering something causing the boy to blush. Alex sat back as her friends worked the boy over. She commented “Bri have you noticed your rating changed to major hunk according to the babe patrol?” Brian blinks, “what?”
Reagan laughs, “it is girl rule number one Brian. It does not matter how much of a geek a guy is. When a high class chick notices him his status rises.”
“Yeah, Bri you have it all over Jake.” Kathy added teasingly. “Now that Alex has you snared they wonder how did such a handsome piece of manly flesh escape us? They all want in now.”
Alex says in a sultry voice, “didn’t you wonder why chicks flocked to Jake and not you? When we all know you are much better than the girls thought.”
Brian is in full blush mode his face reddening to match the color of his lips. “Come on girls you are getting carried away.” Brian defends himself. Alex grins as she kisses his ear.
Brian turns quickly handing the girl a gold heart on a matching chain. “I found this someplace it has your name on it. Did you lose it?” Alex looks at the heart inscribed ‘To Alex from Brian.’ Beaming the girl puts it on while her friends become giddy fawning over it.
Brian's eyes sparkle as he gazes at Alex. “You need to be more careful with expensive items like that.” His smile broadens. “It is my way of saying thank you for trading projects.”
Alex shakes her head. “I had nothing to do with that. I need to know what size you are." Brian blinks asking, “why do you need to know?”
Alex twists her fingers in her hair devilishly. “Uh I just wondered because the skirt I made has an elastic waist band instead of zipper and button. I thought you could wear the skirt and I'd wear the pants you made.”
Brian balks retelling the girls he drew a skirt in the Home Economic Olympics while Alex got a pair of slacks.
Reagan offered, “that was sweet of you Alex.” Alex shakes her head. “I had no choice the old biddy made me do it. It gets worse; I have to wear it to class. So what is your size Brian? You wear the skirt I’ll wear the slacks.”
The boy’s face reddened as he shakes his head yelling, “no way. The pants would be way too long for you. I did not do a diligent effort to perfect the length so you could wear them rolled up.” He thought his comeback was good.
The two girls did not back up their friend turning on her. They both said in unison, “oh no Alex you’re wearing the skirt. We never see you enfemme.”
“How is the project going guys?” Kathy asks.
Brian sheepishly confesses. “I am behind. Basketball practice has been more demanding than I thought.”
Erin Wright from another table calls over, “I will help if you need.” Brian glances to Alex and she nods whispering, “ok with me. I trust you.”
Kathy and Reagan call Alex nuts. Brian is unsure if she meant it. The boy said, “Thank you Erin but I have to do it myself, the rules you know.”
All three girls in unison say, “good answer.”
Brian blinks, “do you guys share the same brain?”
Alex says, “now you know girl rule number two. Boy friend will not accept help from pretty chicks.”
The bell rings for class with Brian saying “I just learned the first two girl rules. How good is that?”
Kathy quips, “yeah but you just blew it big time. You just had a chance to get into Alex’s skirt.”
Reagan added, “a chance like that may not come again.” Brian blushes as he escapes down the hall. Regan and Kathy tell Alex, “you got a keeper.”
As they walk down the hall Alex is beginning to perspire and she suddenly grabs her stomach bending over and moaning. Kathy holds her asking, “cramps?” Alex nods hearing Reagan whisper, “monthly visitor?”
Alex suddenly panics and grabs Reagan's arm. “walk me to the nurse’s office?” Without waiting for an answer she nearly screams to Kathy. “Call Dr. Bradley, tell her emergency, cramps and to call the nurses office. Talk to her she will know.”
Kathy, panicked punches the numbers into her cell.
Gladys Winslow drives rapidly toward the hospital after receiving the call from school. She tried several times to reach her husband Norman whose cell was out of contact with the tower. She left a panicked message advising him to meet her at the hospital. No it was not her she was fine it was Alex. No she did not know beyond the school nurse saying cramps, fever and passing out. She could only hear the words, 911, hospital, and Dr. Bradley.
She pulled into hospital parking lot then ran into the building trying to get someone to listen. She questioned every staff member she found until one directed to a waiting room. Over the next Several hours, though it was only minutes in real time, she determined there were twenty-four rows of ceiling tiles. She also felt the painting of a girl fishing was not very good. A nurse appeared leading her to a conference room. Still no answers she waited for Dr. Bradley’s assistant.
Miley Summers spoke with a soft concerned voice. Mrs. Winslow regarded the young woman as a mere girl. Tall and thin she appeared with golden hair. She had green eyes and slim build. She could have been a college student. Gladys worried about this young girl ‘is the one who holds my child’s life?’ The woman turns to face the Doctor.
“Mrs. Winslow, I am Dr. Summers Dr. Bradley’s assistant. Alex is in surgery we expect all will go well as the response was rapid. Alex knew exactly what to do and her friend Katherine Wyatt called Dr. Bradley quickly.”
Gladys narrowed her gaze with concern showing. “Surgery? My God what happened? My husband opposes any surgery.”
Dr. Summers with a quizzical expression said to the fraught woman. “It does not matter what your husband opposes. When a life is in danger and surgery is the only method to save a life the state authorizes the hospital to act in emergencies. Do you know what your daughter’s condition is?” The doctor asked surprised to hear the woman’s reaction.
Gladys knows that Alex is presenting as girl and the community sees him as a girl. He is still a boy down there. She changed his diapers and she knows what she brought into this world. Her response was normal considering the doctors had to find his male appendage. She responded in a rational way so she thought, “my daughter? You mean my son. I know only that my son Alex is in the hospital and you are operating.”
Miley Summers widens her eyes, “your son? Mrs. Winslow, your son is suffering from internal bleeding caused by a menstrual discharge. A growth blocks the evacuation of the flow. If the menstrual flow cannot evacuate her body, she will die. I know of no way this can occur in a male. I know you are upset please sit down everything is under control. Can we get you something to drink, coffee or tea?”
The woman nearly falls into a sitting position in the straight plastic chair. Gladys tried to gather her thoughts. ‘Alex said Dr. Bradley wanted to discuss her findings with both of us. What could she possibly have discovered? Alex was playing at being a girl. He was taking advantage of his odd chest growth. Are they trying to tell me that with his body producing these strange symptoms, it is really turning him into a girl? I thought by playing along with his joke he would realize the implications of his ruse and the danger he put himself in.’ She nods to the young doctor. “I am sorry I am very concerned and very confused. Can I speak with Dr. Bradley?”
Dr. Summers admits she never met her partner’s patient and is not familiar with the case. She knew that Karen said it was very strange. Being pragmatic she simply said “I am sorry but it is Dr. Bradley who is performing the surgery. She is with your daughter now. Dr. Bradley will be in soon and give you a full briefing.”
Gladys paced back and forth reviewing all that had passed these past few months. She pictured Alex in her mind seeing the pretty, no beautiful girl she was. She recalled telling Alex that she believed her. Gladys, now torn fraught with the friction between denial and reality she came to terms. ‘Alex was a girl all along?’
At that moment Norman burst into the room highly agitated. Before he could even speak Gladys said, “Norman, sit down shut up and I will explain.” She turned to Dr. Summers with a smile, “thank you. I will talk with my husband.”
The Doctor smiled with a hushed voice, “thank you and Alex is in excellent hands.” With that she stepped outside. Miley Summers was even more convinced this child’s mother was a basket case.
Norman was ready to burst but Gladys could settle him down for the moment. “It will be ok.” She said with a quiet confidence. The Lord’s will is being done.”
Norman began his outrage with his usual refrain. “The Lord would not approve.”
Mrs. Winslow’s response was sudden, loud and certain. “Shut up If you cause any more problems Alex and I will leave you. I am fed up with your inability to listen to reason. You almost killed your daughter and I refuse to allow you to prevent the treatment she needs.”
Norman shocked, by his wife’s sudden command can only whisper. “I did nothing to Jami. The girl left because she could not accept the Lord.”
Gladys shakes her head. “I am talking about Alex.” Stunned, Norman widens his eyes and sits back with an incredulous gaze.
Alex’s mother says to her husband, “you will listen to Dr. Bradley and keep your mouth shut. Alex and I had a talk just yesterday and her, yes I said her insight may help you.”
Norman blinks as his wife continues, “suppose as a result of your praying the Lord answered but you did not hear?”
Mr. Winslow now puzzled listened intently. “Norman suppose just suppose the Lord gave Dr. Bradley the intellect and tools to save your daughter. Would you consider her effort is in fact the Lord’s will?”
Norman widens his eyes as if to consider while his resistance melts. Gladys just gave him the ability to accept science while not turning his back on his life long beliefs.
Mr. Winslow smiles mumbling his speech. “It is the Lord’s way. He provides a miracle without drawing attention to himself.”
Gladys smiles inwardly thinking ‘manipulation is not always evil in fact it can be the Lord’s will.’ She laughed as Norman sat praying.
A confused Dr. Summers met her partner as she exited the operating room. “Karen how did it go?”
Dr. Bradley smiles answering, “very well the girl pulled through quite famously. She will be sore for a few days with some discomfort.”
Miley displays a visage of concern. “I must tell you Karen that woman, the girl’s mother is highly distraught. She insists the girl is her son.”
Karen smiles, “I know it is rather confusing but take my word for it she is normal. I will fill you in at the office tomorrow. Right now I have good news to deliver and a bubble bath waiting.”
A tall strikingly beautiful woman entered the conference room. She was wearing hospital scrubs appearing quite spent. In her hand was a large thin manila envelope. “Mr. and Mrs. Winslow, I presume?” Gladys and Norman smiled a smile described as worn and hopeful. "I am Doctor Karen Bradley, Alex's OBGYN. Alex is fine you can see her shortly. First I must explain to you what happened to the child you thought was your son.”
Norman sat forward in his seat curious not understanding what is going on but he remained silent. His eyes darted from the Doctor to his wife. Listening in silence is a new experience for Norman.
Dr. Bradley placed the contents of the envelope into a tray. A large screen television projected a picture of Alex's internal organs. “This is a view of Alex as taken by the M.R.I. a few days ago.” She looks at Norman. “Do you recognize that?”
Norman’s eyes widen sputtering, “is that?” His eyes expand, he cannot finish. Gladys takes his hand. Karen smiles. “This explains the reason that Alex could not produce enough testosterone to begin male puberty. It also explains the elevated levels of estrogen. The problem was the blockage you see here. By not having an open Vaginal Canal Alex’s system could not evacuate the menstrual fluids. By not passing the fluids Alex would suffer from a resulting chemical poisoning causing death. You see when you refused testosterone treatments it accelerated the advance of female puberty.” Karen takes a deep breath, “don’t hold yourself guilty because of that decision. The treatments would only have prolonged the inevitable. Under these conditions the testis would fail.”
“I nearly killed my son,” Norman blurts and begins to sob. As demonstrated before Doctor Bradley is a master of framing an argument. She leans over touching Norman’s hand.
“Mr. Winslow this is not your fault. Had you allowed, the proposed treatment by Dr. Grant it would only have prolonged the problem making it worse.” She repeated her previous statement determined to ram that point home. “Dr. Grant is an excellent doctor. His suggested treatment was correct. With the female hormones over powering the male production the situation would come to this at some point. The usage of male hormones would have only delayed the onset of female puberty. The opposing hormones are the reason Alex had not developed normally. When his testicles finally succumbed then normal puberty began in earnest. I say normal because Alex has a fully developed female reproductive system. No other outcome was possible.”
Dr. Bradley takes a deep breath. “This is nothing anyone did and it is not the first time this event has taken place. Do you understand?” Both parents nod. Norman appeared especially defeated.
She turns to Gladys handing her a card. This is Katherine’s phone number. Call the girl she saved Alex’s life.” Both parents demonstrate surprise. “Had she not called me the hospital would have delayed treatment by having to take several tests. I already had these results and advised Alex to bring you to see me. Remember Alex was unconscious she could not have told them. Please do not, I repeat do not mention the details. Alex’s friends have always known him as a girl. You don’t want to put your daughter in a hopeless position.” Dr. Bradley concludes. “The nurse will bring you to her room. She can to go home in a couple of days. We need to monitor her and control her first period. Yes, she can have visitors.” As Dr. Bradley turned to leave she turned to Mr. Winslow, “Oh just so you are aware I pray for the Lord’s help before every surgery.”
Shaken, the parents thanked Karen and found themselves at Alex’s bedside.
The girl smiled through the soreness she felt. “Hi you two look like you have been through the war.” She giggles as both parents approach she cautiously says to her father, “are you angry with your new daughter?”
Norman crying rushes to her bed hugging Alex whispering, “angry? I am praising the Lord for giving me a beautiful child. She is a lovely daughter I can be thankful for that.”
Gladys is smiling and crying at the same time. The woman had to dig deep to find the strength to fight for her daughter.
Norman spoke softly to Alex. “We will keep your secrets. You must promise to bring Kathy, Reagan and that special boy to the house. I want to meet the people who love my daughter.”
Dr. Bradley entered the room chasing the parents out. “You can bring her home Thursday but I must speak with my favorite patient.” Norman thanked the doctor and he and his wife went home exhausted but happily relieved.
Karen Bradley spoke for a few moments with Alex. She presented her an informational packet every teen girl should have. She says to her patient “you scared us. I see your parents are accepting the result.”
Alex smiled “yes they are. Much easier than I expected.” she sighed with relief.
Karen turned to the important issue at hand. “Alex am I wrong by guessing you have no idea how to deal with a period?”
Alex blushes, “I am clueless.”
Let me examine you, I will explain step by step. The Doctor when finished asks, “do you understand now?”
Alex frowns shyly, “yes I understand that every month the mess reappears. Just when I thought being a girl was something great.”
Karen laughs, “it will not be every month. It does not occur during pregnancy."
Alex balks “when I’m pregnant? Are you saying I can get pregnant?”
“Yes Alex all of your plumbing is intact and in working order. Young lady welcome to the world of womanhood.” Very gently Dr. Bradley questions “I understand your parents may not accept this but would you like a prescription for birth control?”
Alex shakes her head, “no thank you. I, don’t intend to take this new equipment out for a test ride just yet.”
Karen nods “if you change your mind just ask. I will see you in my office next week. I expect you there after school on Tuesday.”
Alex agrees. “I just want to get out of here.”
At seven a.m., Alex stirred from her sleep as she heard the door to her private room open and close. With her eyes closed she imagined, ‘here comes the vampire to suck more blood.’ She rolled to burry her face into the pillow again thinking, ‘go away.’ A sharp tugging on her shoulder caused the girl to raise, “Go Away!”
A softer pair of voices are heard speaking in hushed tones. “Sssshh do you want us to get thrown out?”
Alex sits up to see Reagan and Kathy. “What are you doing here?”
Reagan smiles. “We needed to know if they fixed your tits. Brian is dying of curiosity.” Alex hits her with the pillow. “It is not my tits.”
Kathy laughs. “We know you got nice tits, a little small but compact and firm.” Alex hits her too. “Seriously girlfriend we were worried are you ok?” Kathy asks.
Alex nods, “just a plumbing problem they needed to open the stopper.”
Reagan blinks as both girls sit on the edge of the bed. “Spill,” they say in unison.
Alex does not want to reveal her whole problem so she tells them the part they can handle. ‘Besides it is true’, she thinks. “I had a blockage that closed my” Alex suddenly paused. She struggled trying to think of a word that escaped her. “Well, you know the part where the curse comes out.”
The girls laugh, “ok we know what a Vaginal Canal is. You are telling us something was stuck in there.” All three laugh this time.
“No silly” Alex says. Reagan laughing as she speaks. “I could not imagine what you could have stuck up there. Next time just ask Brian. He‘d be happy to do that.” By now the three were almost hysterical before Alex gained her composure. “Guys get real I’m still a virgin, nothing got shoved in there. I had a growth that blocked the channel and my flow could not get out. That caused chemical poisoning and me to go into shock.”
Both girls turned white, “like the tampon warnings. I thought that was just covering your ass bull shit” Kathy said.
Reagan answered “I guess it isn’t.” They both kissed Alex. “We will be back after school. See ya.” The girls left for school and Alex laughed until she thought about the changes she faced.
When she finally got home Alex was called into her father’s den. She was wearing a knee length lavender skirt with a white turtle neck. Norman smiled at her. “I never saw how pretty you are princess.”
Alex blinked, ‘princess?’ “What did you want daddy?” Her choice of words was deliberate sort of her revenge for princess. Norman appeared rather subdued as he began to speak. “I must beg for your forgiveness for being so unapproachable.”
The girl considered a moment and easily forgave her father. Though she was angry, about a lot of issues she felt it was time to bury the hatchet.”
“You see my daughter my narrow view of the Lord’s will blinded me to the obvious. You did not know Doctor Bradley and I had a long talk. She convinced me that science and religion are not at odds with each other. It is like the teaching the man to fish story. The Lord is teaching man how to perform miracles every day. You do know not too long ago you would have died because science had not learned enough?”
Alex grins, “do you mean you are not going to resort to saying it is the Lord’s will all the time?”
Norman smiled. “It was the Lord’s will that allowed Dr. Bradley to be successful.” Alex hugged her father thinking ‘he had made some progress.’
That evening Brian, Reagan and Kathy all appeared at the Winslow home. All three friends received the approval of Norman Winslow. Brian was the one who received the deepest inspection. Following a moderate length chat in the living room the kids bounded up to Alex’s room. Their flight was so quick Norman could not get out his reciting of his formal rule.
Seeing only legs bounding up the stairs Norman stands, “No,” Immediately, he is shushed by Gladys “Remember Alex is a girl? The No girl in room rule no longer applies.”
Norman sits considering that simple fact. He whispers to his wife. “I almost made a fool of myself.” He suddenly stands recalling “Brian is a boy.”
Gladys grabs his arm, “sit we can bend the rule this time.”
As they are all gathered around the twelve by twelve bedroom Brian stands awkwardly as he sees Kathy, Reagan and Alex sitting girl style on Alex’s bed. Reagan suddenly clutches Brian’s arm directing him to an empty corner of the bed. Blushing, he sits.
It was then the group saw a large rectangle hanging on Alex’s wall that faces her bed. It was covered by a sheet. The three guests gazed at it curiously.
Brian points to the sheet, “what’s that?”
Alex giggles excitedly, “remove the sheet Bri. You do the honors.”
Brian carefully takes down the sheet. He, Kathy and Reagan gasps as they view a sixteen by twenty-four oil painting of themselves standing in a meadow with Alex. There is a small covered bridge over a tiny stream. On the bridge wall above the entry are three words. They read, Best Friends Forever. The kids exclaim breathlessly a series of odd sounds each in their own voice.
Alex reaches under the bed pulling three long tubes each containing the same painting as seen on the wall. “For you guys, it only took three months to pull off. I don’t want you to feel bad knowing I slaved over this while you guys were having fun. No guilt trip here.”
As Alex began to giggle there was a hog pile on top of her shaking the bed as she was showered by hugs and kisses. She blushed as she felt Brian’s rise down there but for some reason she did not pull away. Alex doubted the poor boy was even aware of what she was feeling.
It was midweek when Alex got ready to go back to school with her skirt project. She had agreed to walk with Brian who had to present himself wearing his home made pants. She was wearing a gray wool skirt modeled after the girl’s school uniform in the Harry Potter movies. To top it off her blouse was a white school girl style with a yellow tie set off with black stripes. Alex said, “I am from the Hufflepuff House.” Her father smiled while mother placed her hands against each cheek.
As she met Brian standing sheepishly wearing his blue suit style slacks she hugged him kissing his cheek. “Not exact but close to Hogwarts garb,” she comments to a smiling Brian as she spins around. The coat opened to reveal her swirling skirt. She was also wearing her gold chain Brian gave her. “I like your pants Brian who made them for you?” She pokes him teasingly.
Alex blinks as Brian suddenly turns wraps his arms around her. He kisses Alex deeply. “You scared me when they took you out on a stretcher I went crazy.” Alex takes his hand. “I’m ok Brian and thank you.”
The girls were merciless over Alex’s skirt teasing her with comments like “I can’t think of a single Hufflepuff girl. You should have tried harder to get into Gryffindor. Help me out here Reagan,” Kathy pleads.
Reagan the ever helpful best friend quips, “Uh Alex Potter? They, can‘t have two Potters in the same house.” They continued until the bell rang. “It is time to see the executioner, come on Bri.” Alex takes his hand.
Brian sheepishly whispers “I should have worn the skirt Alex. I do like your tie.”
Alex giggles. “It is not too late. Are you having second thoughts?”
Brian pulls her toward the girls room laughing. “Sorry but I have to chicken out. I can’t match those legs. Besides my new hunk image would be destroyed.” She mock pokes him as they enter skirt making 101.
Brian and Alex exit the class beaming at the result of the project grades as they both received an A. Though most of the kids did well and no one had created a disaster they were glad this struggle had ended and school was getting out for the Christmas break. They walked hand in hand down the hall lost in each other.
Brian turned to face Alex. He whispered “I love you.” Stunned, the girl squeezed his hand whispering the same to him. They promised for the next three weeks they would spend every moment they could together.
The four, Alex, Brian, Kathy and Reagan walked down Maple Street as usual each falling off as they approached their homes. There was a long kiss in front of Brian’s house before Alex had to run home. She no sooner reached her front door when Kathy called Alex‘s cell. “Are you up for shopping?”
Alex thought a moment. She had not yet caught the shopping gene but she answered in the positive. “Give me thirty to get ready and I will meet you at your place.”
“Mom can I use the car? Kathy and I need to do some serious shopping.”
Gladys laughed agreeing, “be home by six. Oh, your new drivers license arrived, it says girl.”
Alex greedily opened it marveling at her new photo and the female notation. She hugged her mother who told her the lawyer called. “Alex, he also said the other document changes came through with an approval. The new social security card is in the mail.”
Alex hugged her mother shaking all over. “That makes it complete because we got the birth certificate the other day.”
Gladys nods saying, “go, have fun but be home for dinner. Dad is still not used to having a daughter. Have you noticed how strange he has been acting?”
Alex laughs, “yes I hear he wanted Homeland Security to check out Brian.” Gladys regards her daughter with a long stare. “Get out of here he is not that bad.”
The trip to the mall was bountiful as the girls bought several Christmas presents but Alex could not find just the right present for Brian. She tried to get something special but came up empty. “Kathy, I, can’t think of a thing any ideas?”
Kathy giggles. “You could give him your virginity.” Alex pushes Kathy’s shoulder. “Not yet I am nowhere near ready and neither are you.”
Alex drops her jocularity as her tenor turns sober. “You do still have it don’t you?”
Kathy hugs her whispering, “so far but is that a good thing?”
Alex blinks, “yes and you know it. There are only three virgin girls left in that place.”
Kathy sighs. “Remind me again why Reagan and I promised you we would graduate virgins?”
Alex laughs when she sees Debby walking by. “Is that reason enough?” Kathy hugged Alex as they dragged their gatherings to the car.
Jami Winslow was driving east along the interstate toward the small town her parents have moved to. She thought, ‘Valley Heights, how quaint.’ She shrugged as she considered how much better it must be for Alex to have escaped the urban jungle and his tormenters. She recalled the hell she went through and how her complaints were answered by revolting comments. “We will pray together or her favorite, it’s the Lord’s will.” She wanted to scream at her father. “It is the Lord’s will every time a boy grabs the back of my head pushing my face into his nether region?” Jami steeled herself against the expected cold reception. Instead she focused upon seeing Alex. Her brother, the one she often pitied for being so weak. For being so defenseless against the bullies who used him for a battering ram. Then suddenly she laughed as picture of the girl Alex had become appeared. ’She is a babe and those bullies? It is good they moved to East Bumfuck.’
Alex was sitting on the front porch in spite of the cold. She was glad that her father had spent the money to close it in with cedar siding on three sides with a row of windows along the front. Protected from the biting cold outside she sat on the swinging bench wearing her Hogwarts school uniform. ’Jami will love this’ she thought. A horn blew and a compact car pulled into the driveway. Alex watched Jami exit carrying a load of bags juggling more than one on each hip. Alex bounded out rushing to help. The entire load almost ended up in the high snow banks aligning the drive.
“You made it!” Alex exclaims as the predictable hug ensued as Norman and Gladys rushed out the front door to join the reunion. Brian was viewing this happy Hallmark moment as he turned into the sidewalk leading to the front step. His eyes met a surprised Alex. She beamed a radiant smile but she heard Brian say as he turned to go. “You have company.”
He no sooner turned to leave managing but a step before a heavy thump is felt and he and Alex crash into the wall of snow. “No you don’t,” a giggling female voice is heard. Astonished, Jami gazes at her parents while pointing at the two rolling in the snow. “So that is love,” the new arrival says. She giggles then hugs mother before turning to her father. “You look well dad the slower life appears to be good for you.”
Norman smiles, “always quick with an observation Jami. Come here let your old father hug you.” Surprised, Jami stepped into a warm embrace. Gladys stands on the walk watching Alex and Brian wrestle. “Alex it is not lady like to wrestle in a snow bank while wearing a skirt.”
Brian had hit it off with Alex’s father which amazed everyone as Norman was not an accepting person. Gladys thought just perhaps this recent brush with death and the shocking change with their son knocked some sense into him. Whatever the reason she was enjoying a more mellow husband. Perhaps her life was beginning to improve. Now that her other daughter is home for a visit they can be a family again, even if the reunion last no longer than the Christmas holiday. Norman wrestled a promise from Brian to stop by on Christmas day as if the young man would stay away from Alex on a day like that.
On Christmas Eve mother, father, Jami and Alex sat around the tree opening presents. Alex holding a rather light box about ten inches square rattled it trying to determine what was in it. Jami laughing said, “Alex please open the present the card clearly says open on Christmas Eve.”
Alex smiles. “It is from Brian. I wanted to wait until he arrived tomorrow.” Jami holds up the card. “Read what it says. He does not want to be here when you open it. It must be embarrassing.”
Alex blushes, “I will open it in my room.” A chorus of voices in unison chime, “no you won’t! Open it here.” With great apprehension Alex nervously opens the package carefully preserving the paper and ribbon.
Mother watches with raised brows as the old Alex would have torn the package asunder. “You really are a girl.” Everyone laughs including Alex.
Alex stares into the box eyes ablaze with laughter. Her hand covers her mouth, “that devil!” The others watch as Alex removes a pair of blue slacks holding them up. No one gets it.
“Uh,” Jami begins, “what are we missing? It is a pair of slacks. The boyfriend has no idea and got them way too long for you.”
Alex is forced to tell the story of the pattern drawing in class. How the teacher forced Alex to trade her slacks pattern with Brian’s skirt. They all laughed. Then Gladys asked “is this the pair of slacks Brian made?”
Alex nodded slowly when suddenly Jami grabs Alex’s arm. “Girl march up those stairs and remove that skirt then throw it down to me.” Stunned Alex did so with her sister pushing her up the stairs.
A few moments later Jami puts on her coat, looks to her mother saying. “Brian lives two doors up the street. It is the house with yellow trim on the corner right?” Gladys nods as Jamie tucks a package neatly wrapped with the message, ‘To be opened on Christmas Eve.’
Norman’s laughter was rapid as he grabbed his sides. “That boy has no idea of how badly his joke backfired on him. One cannot argue who got the upper hand in this exchange.”
On Christmas day when Norman opened the door he saw Brian standing there. He invited the boy in saying “Alex is in the shower she will be down in a moment.” Norman looked at Brian with an odd gaze. The boy was standing in the door way wearing a mid calf wool coat and ball cap. What caught Norman’s attention was the boy’s legs were bare. ’Why is he wearing shorts in this cold weather?’ Norman thought.
When Brian took off his coat Norman‘s eyes sprung wide. He noticed the boy was not wearing shorts at all. Here stood the high school basketball star wearing the Hufflepuff outfit that Alex had made.
Norman’s laughter rose through the house and as the whole family entered the living room Norman was heard saying “you got guts boy.”
Brian shakes his head “We are missing the point of how tough these women are. They can wear skirts out on a day like this. Didn‘t Mel Gibson wear one in that movie about the Scot? So why can‘t I do it?” Brian spent the afternoon wearing Alex’s skirt. He was not about to back down especially as Alex wore those blue slacks. As Brian was getting ready to leave Gladys suggested “you kids should change.” Brian shook his head “my parents have not seen this and it was a gift. You can turn away a gift.” He hugged Alex leaving to go home. Stunned Alex watched him leave, “call me.” She said. Jamie looks at her mother. “Like I said love is nuts.”
Jami says her goodbyes to Alex sitting next to her sister on her bed. “Alex you are a very pretty girl, please be careful. That guy you have is a keeper. The way he showed up in your skirt demonstrated he has balls. Most guys would have pitched a fit.” She giggles squeezing Alex’s hand, “but you know he has balls.”
Alex not certain how to take Jami‘s teasing, answers quickly, “I know no such thing.” She pauses adding, “well I know what he has but I’ve never seen them.”
Jami smiles, “he, hasn’t pressured you? Really, no hints no suggestion?”
Alex shakes her head. “We talked about it and he told me he loved me and was willing to wait.” Alex giggles. “He told me he was rather afraid of rushing into sex. He wanted to be sure first.”
Jami widens her eyes as she stands then hugs her sister. “Alex, keep him you don’t have any idea of the gem you have.” Alex hugs back whispering, “yes I do.”
Before Jami left, Alex explained the conversation she had with father after the operation. Jami was stunned and she told Alex, “I am glad he has finally come to reason. Perhaps he and I can mend a few fences.”
As Jami pulled out of the driveway Alex’s cell rang it was Brian. “Are you still wearing those slacks?” Alex said she was and Brian told her, “get over here dad wants to see if they look better on you.”
Sometime in the late spring Alex thought about her loss of her old self and the gains she made. After another hour long conversation via cell phone with Jami, she considers how her life changed. Jami and Alex were never close when she lived at home. To be truthful Alex rejoiced when Jami moved to college. The girl marveled at the changes this last year brought. The changes suddenly struck as her hand accidentally regarded her bare knee. She blushed as her gaze into the mirror revealed a girl sitting wearing a gray mini skirt with a cream colored camisole top. Her thoughts turned inward with a clarity she had not considered before. No longer was she the wimpy little brother that popular big sisters disdained. Alex considered this an improvement.
Alex, more conflicted considers new problems these changes caused. She never wanted to be a girl. As a boy he liked girls. The last thing he wanted to do was wear skirts. He only wanted the torment to end. Alex glances into the mirror again and she smiled. ‘The torment certainly ended.’ Now Alex has a new torment several of them to be sure. When he began to grow those breasts he researched the internet to find possible causes. None of the likely answers were comforting. In his research he discovered those internet story sites. The poor kid had no idea so many guys wanted to be girls. To him wearing his sister’s clothes was disgusting. To stroke another boy’s thing was beyond gross. The one thing he could agree on was guys were jerks.
His biggest fear was his tormentors would discover his developing breast. The advent of that had been the cause of many anxious nights. So moving out of that hell hole was a blessing. To top it off the people in this town mistook the doctor’s report and with his appearance they assumed he was female. Alex was disgusted with himself for taking the easy way out. Alex knew as things worked out he got lucky. That does not change his inner conflict.
As Alex’s relationship grew with Brian the conflict also grew. Alex wanted nothing more than to kiss Brian, to hold him, to love him. What kind of thoughts are those to be having about a boy? There was Kathy and Reagan two beautiful girls any guy would love to hold, to kiss, to belong to. So why was Alex content to hang out with them every day discussing makeup, clothes and sexy guy’s asses? Why is it ok to have two best girlfriends forever? Alex loved Kathy and Reagan as sisters and Brian, oh how Alex wanted him in a biblical way. Alex knew for sure this was a path straight to hell.
Alex also knew that before this change sex would be fun. To bed multiple girls would be a challenge and a source for bragging rights. He did not know that because he never experienced it. He also knew that was not in his nature. Now Alex had to worry about these things because she would have to suffer the consequences of being intimate. Alex did not look forward to the responsibility of precautions a girl was forced to consider. She smiled at her next thought. ’With Brian, I could accept motherhood.’
After her operation, the horror of her situation struck with big time confusion. They provided her with no easing into his now her circumstance. Alex was struck at once with the mess there was no warning or waiting period it just struck. The curse or monthly visitor as it is known struck him with all its fury. Alex could not stand the smell and he hated those bulky pads. Alex refused to use one of those silly looking tubes. He figured as a virgin it would break his hymen. How was Alex supposed to know if that were true or not? Just who would he ask that stupid question? Alex figured busting that was to be saved for his husband. ’His husband’ that thought brought another cringe. The idea of some guy sticking that big ugly sweaty thing in there was gross. Alex wondered if those guys who are girl wanna bees have any idea of what their wish brings.
Then there was the whole hygiene issue and special attention to detail. He swore if he missed the slightest particle her new body smelled like tuna fish. The hair required an extra hour every morning to get it just so. Alex wondered why did she insist on growing it out. She knew, of course she knew. It was because of Kathy Reagan and Brian. Their special bonds their love of each other and the trust. ‘Being a girl was a pain in the ass but I love it,’ Alex thought. Most importantly perhaps even more than her relationship with Brian, Reagan and Kathy had given her something she had never known, true loving friendship. She understood that the simple slang expression BFF meant something.
Alex was sparred the conflict suffered by people he read about in those stories. He did not have to ‘come out’ His parents did not have to fight with school boards for transition rights. Alex did not have to run a gauntlet of boy in a skirt torment. His conflict was far different. Publicly it was friction free but privately it was fraught with fear, doubt and resentment. “I don’t want to be a girl” Alex said aloud as he stood before the mirror. Then she thought about Brian and her resistance dissolved.
As Alex got ready for the awards banquet presented by the church to student achievers the excitement grew. She knew Brian would be getting an award for leading their tiny school’s basketball team to the state championship. It was the only championship of any kind that Valley High ever won. Brian has been offered scholarships by several major college powerhouses. He maintained he will accept the school that offers one to Alex as well.
Alex’s conflict with being a girl extended to her refusal to wear skirts to school. Other than the time she wore her project her attire was an assortment of jeans and tee shirts. The problem was the girl loved skirts. She adored the look and the feel and freedom while hating the vulnerability that came with it. She felt guilty being a beautiful girl and the object of those constant stares. She could accept stares when they came from Brian. His stares, his touch and his presence were what she craved.
It was the thought of his gaze and his touch on this late spring evening she found herself rolling a pair of sheer black panty hose up her long feminine curved legs. Her white blouse with its top two buttons opened partially hidden by a pale blue jacket that rested just below the waist of her matching mid thigh skirt. She slipped on her black one inch heels then stood at the mirror. “God, I love being a girl!” She gasped at that outburst adding with a wry smile, “it is the Lord’s will.”
Alex stepped into the auditorium arm in arm with Brian. Brian turned heads with his handsome stature in his well tailored dark blue suit. The adoring gazes from a multitude of female students created a buzz. He was never considered the school hunk that title belonged to Jake. It was Jake the girls wet themselves over. Jen turned to her acolytes in a teasing voice. “How did I ever let that hunk slip out of my clutches?” She giggled. “I never had a chance Alex grabbed him from under my nose.” The other girls smiled while Jen added; “At least Alex is a cool chick.”
Reverend Morgenstern was talking to Norman and Gladys about church issues when he saw Brian and Alex enter. He says to Alex’s parents. “So that, is the school basketball star, Brian Patten. Who is that stunning beauty with him?”
Norman surprised, widens his eyes, “Reverend that is our daughter Alex. Thank you, she is stunning. As her father, I believe that.”
Morgenstern blinks, “I thought Alex was a boy.”
Mrs. Morgenstern turns her head toward her husband, “Clyde that cinches it I am making an appointment with the eye doctor. How could you ever mistake that lovely girl for a boy? Have you not noticed the red headed boy Sean drooling over her week after week?”
The Reverend quips, “that poor Sean never stood a chance.
Brian never one for speaking in public as reserved as he is barely engaged in long conversations surprised everybody when he accepted the church’s top scholarship. “I really don’t deserve this. I was a marginal student headed for trouble until I met Alex. She is the one who earned this award by forcing me to make by best efforts. Thank you Alex.” The crowd cheered as Alex blushed under the gaze of all.
Alex, Kathy and Reagan also won awards. Jen garnered a cheerleading award and several minor scholarships were given to others. Norman stood, whispered something in Alex’s ear then went to the stage.
It was at that moment when Trish nudged Jen’s shoulder pointing out Debbie and Sandy sitting in the back. Another girl giggled, “it looks like the trailer park is closed for the evening.” Another sniped at the girl’s Wal-Mart clothing.
Norman stood at the podium calling for Debbie Nelson and Sandy Rice. Both girls stunned looked at each other as Norman waved them forward. Awkwardly, they reached the stage. Norman smiled when he made his announcement. “The church has determined we will offer these two young ladies full tuition payment and a generous book allowance for their first year at Valley Community College. If they maintain a B average, the church will provide the same for the second year. With this they can achieve their Associates degrees.” The girls were stunned. Sandy blurted how do we deserve this?”
Norman shook their hands answering their question. “You achieved high school graduation against great odds. You did not quit in spite of hardships placed in your way.” He paused long enough to look at Jen and her entourage.
Gladys leans to a tearful Alex as she whispered. “What did father say to you?”
Alex beaming whispers back. “I heard you when you reminded me it is the Lord’s will. We should not judge and provide a helping hand. Mother, I am so proud of him.” Gladys also wept.
Alex, Kathy and Reagan sat in Kathy’s bedroom hanging out as they were prone to do. “So we made it” Reagan said.
“Made what?” A curious Alex asked. Kathy smiled “virgin graduation dummy.”
Alex blinks, “the prom night still waits and that is the most dangerous night of the year.”
Reagan agrees. “You got that right the guys expect something. It is a rite you know.”
Kathy, nods, “we gotta set some rules.”
“Like?” asks Alex.
Reagan emit’s a dramatic sigh before suggesting “hand jobs should be allowed.”
Kathy nods, “should we include giving head?” Her question was followed by a series of, “gross.”
Alex stated quite firmly “no way will the snake slip past my lips.” “So what are the rules?” Kathy asks with a bit of impatience.
“Hand jobs are ok,” begins Reagan “and if you must drop to your knees we will allow it but you can’t give a detail that falls into slut territory.”
Alex smiles, “they can go down on us though.” The girls giggled.
The day of the prom the girls sat at their table grumbling. “What did you expect?” said Brian. Alex echoes his sentiment, “like anyone but the dynamic duo was going to win. Jen, the Queen and Jake the King were the winners as expected.”
“The way those two hate each other it’s like Karma,” Brian offers.
Kathy speaks next. “Look Patten I hate to admit this but since my bff here,” she points to Alex. “ The girl is absolutely gaga over you I think you should have won.”
Brian emit’s a small blush. “She is head over heels isn’t she.”
Alex pokes him. “Just like me you came in second.”
Reagan objects, “I came in second.”
Kathy no no’s, “wrong I was second.”
Brian blows the whistle, “Ladies it was a three way tie. Therefore in alphabetical order it is Alex 2nd Kathy 3rd and Reagan 4th.”
The girls boo while throwing their straws at him. “So Alex is first because you got the hots for her? You know her last name starts with a W.” The other two girls said in unison.
“Actually, it’s her hair offered Brian. Have you guys noticed how great it looks” Brian adds “I love it Alex.”
She blushes, “hey it is nothing I thought something new was in order.” As always the group walked home after school with Brian kissing Alex saying “I can’t wait to dance with the prettiest girl at the prom.”
As Alex readied for the big night she fretted over every detail as she relived the horror and excitement of selecting just the right dress. Talking with her mother as the woman fretted over every detail Alex noted a hint of concern. “Mother what is wrong?”
Gladys looked at her daughter, “honey in my wildest dreams I never thought I would be talking like this to my Alex. I never dreamed I’d see you in a prom dress looking radiant. I never dreamed I’d caution you or have to worry some boy would talk you into something you would regret.”
Alex shushed her mother, “mom don’t worry Brian and I have not been to bed together.”
Gladys interrupts with a shocked expression, “I never suggested you had.”
Alex nods, “I know but you need to hear it anyway. We won’t tonight I know many girls say the same thing. Brian is the most loving honest man I’ve ever met. Mother you know as well as I do I love him.”
Gladys smiles “I know and if you did do something like that I would not disown you. Brian is exactly the kind of man I’d pick for you. Come along daughter he is about to arrive.”
Alex thought about the hours on end that Kathy and Reagan agonized over their gowns. The trial and errors the changing of their minds seemed to be an endless series of events. They each had examined and approved the other’s selections. There would be no surprises when they see each other tonight. The door bell rang she heard Brian being greeted by her father and mother. She took a moment. ‘They say make him wait.’ She laughed as that thought passed through her mind. Alex took another look into the mirror as she did the first time she saw those budding breast. On that day with firm resolution she said. “I am not a girl.” She smiles, “how wrong I was.”
As she walked down the stairs seeing Brian standing there awkwardly holding the corsage she gazed into his eyes. Brian pinned it to her bosom as she whispered into his ear. “I am glad I’m a girl.” Upon hearing this Brian thought, ‘is this like that phone call that time’ He shrugged, ‘girls’, before he whispered back, “so am I.”
Kathy, Reagan, Brian and Alex all went to the State College. Everyone was shocked when Brian rejected all of those major school’s scholarships. He did receive a scholarship from Iowa State and played well. He had no intention of a professional basketball career. He wanted to be an engineer and now he is. He also wanted to marry the girl he loved and so he did. Brian was not let down by the surprises he had grown to expect from Alex. She had two maids of honor as Alex could not possibly choose between Kathy and Reagan. Before the ceremony, the three ladies stood in the back of the church. They whispered while waiting to walk down the aisle.
Kathy demonstrated that devilish grin she was famous for. “Ok guys it is time to fess up.” The girls presented an odd expression, “what!” “Do you remember prom night? The sworn pact we made?” Kathy challenged. The other two giggled. Kathy draws a breath, “so spill.”
Reagan widens her eyes, “now?” The other two nod. Reagan shrugs saying, “hand job he exploded all over the place. I told Ben that’s all you will get.” The girls laugh as Reagan and Kathy say slowly, “Alex.”
Alex blushes, “Brian resisted he said it would not be right. My fingers,” she pauses, “those little devils could not be resisted. Geeze I never felt anything so big.” Alex’s maids of honor break out laughing as Alex turns on Kathy, “spill.”
Kathy beams, “I guess spill is a good word he came between my breasts.” The two whisper one in each of Kathy’s ears as they walk down the aisle, “slut.”
It may have been the first time in this small church that the bride and her maids were laughing as they approached the altar. However, the Reverend never missed a beat. He had known these girls for a long time and he loved them too.
As Brian entered Alex for the first time she moaned with a release of pleasure. She looked up to her husband happy she was who she was. With a deep breath after being sated she thought, “it was the Lord’s plan.
by Essarr
MY Magic PDA part 1
Bob and Megan, a married couple in their final years retired for the night. Just before drifting off to sleep Bob made an off hand comment to which Megan agreed with a slight twist. They did not know something was listening and granted their wish. How will this challenge work out when they hardly know the rules of the game?
Sept 20, 2011
Newly edited through the unforgiving seventh grade English teacher. There are a few minor changes but nothing to alter the story. You will notice a change from first person narrative to third person in some scenes. This is intentional. The primary focus is from Bob/Sarah's point of view. I shifted to third person when Bob/Sarah was not involved in the scene and for areas where scene setting is involved. With that in mind it should lessen any confusion. I trust this helps convince you there is a method for the writers madness and it is not a lack of skill. This decision may be a failure but I did it on purpose.
Rights reserved by the author with permission to host granted exclusively to Big Closet.
Muffled voices broke through my dreams as I could hear parts of an agitated discussion. An amber glow from a small clock reported it was one a.m.
“We have to clamp down”. A male voice said with urgency followed by a softer reply, “yes you are right but nothing has worked yet.”
I turned over burying my face into the pillow. I thought. 'This is another screwy dream.' Then there was nothing until I could feel the vibration of my cell phone. With my eyes firmly shut I pressed the offending machine to my ear. My face planted deeper into the pillow.
An angry slurred voice shouted “it’s 3 a.m. Where in hell are you with the money bitch?”
I hung up instantly shutting off the damn phone. I desperately tried to escape this dream from hell. Over the last year my wife of fifty years had suffered ever greater health issues. There is no way we could expect a rebound to better health. I remember the day before from within this stupid dream as I continually tossed and turned trying to wake. I focused on a silly conversation we had before I went to bed. After watching a science fiction movie, I suggested we could download into younger bodies. My wife, Megan laughed.
“You would like that me looking like that movie star.”
I shrugged replying, “not a bad idea.” Turning serious I added, “wouldn’t you do this over? I would if I could be with you.”
She sighed from behind tired eyes saying, “yes but this time you have the kids.”
My regard narrowed considering, “dear if that is what it would take to spend another lifetime with you, sure no problem.”
She smiled and turned over. “Go to sleep, you have no idea of results wrought from wishes. I love you for the thought.”
One more time I flipped to my other side at last having escaped that stupid dream. The voices had left and the dreaded cell phone remained off. Everything was good until I had to go to relieve myself. The bathroom was three steps from my bed. It was a large room with a wall length mirror over double length floor cabinet with soft blue night lights one to a side. The sunken tub sat just beyond the cabinet next to a toilet. A large walk in closet completed the room. I took one step out of bed with my eyes closed. Another step led into the darkened room. From the corner of my eye the blue light in the mirror caught my attention.
I never turned on the light when taking these late night runs. Megan's dismay resulted in her complaints whenever I missed the bowl. I usually adjusted for this by sitting down to go avoiding any chance of a bad aim as turning on that light sometimes woke me and this night as with many others I only wanted to make a quick turn back into bed. The image startled me. There in the mirror stood a young girl about sixteen perhaps. She had this hideous spiked black hair with a stud in her freaking tongue. I blinked closed, my eyes, relieved myself and dashed back to bed certain I was still dreaming. Silence, nothing but silence and darkness remained until the faint beep, beep of an alarm startled me awake.
Here was that face again in the darkened mirror highlighted by blue light. I watched my hand in the mirror as it reached up to touch the black spike on the top of the head. I closed my eyes reopening them as my gaze caught that hideous stud in the middle of her tongue. Stepping backward I sat on the throne and emptied my bladder and by rote cleaned myself. Afraid to examine any more and convinced my dreams continued, I made my way back to bed. There was no relief as my eyes opened at the sound of another beeping. This time it was not the clock, it came from under the bed. I reached down and felt my PDA right where I left it last night. Certain I turned it off I picked it up. Fully awake I glanced around the room it was similar to the one where I had gone to bed with Megan last night. Identical except for the single twin bed I occupied.
Again the PDA beeped. Flipping the lid open I discovered I had turned it off last night. How could it be beeping? I ignored it for the moment and starred at the night stand partially groggy.
The digital alarm that awoke me was not there the night before. Instead a simple clock radio regarded the space. The time reported to be six A.M. I reached under my pillow for the cell not finding it. Bending over I scanned under the bed, there was no sign of it. Confused, wondering if I was really awake, I stood ignoring the stupid beeping by tossing my pillow over it. I was wearing a black silk pajama in a style of shirt and trousers. I returned to the bathroom mirror to gaze at the person staring back at me. She was a teen perhaps sixteen or seventeen and stood about my old height of five foot eight inches. I actually caught my breath when I realized those breasts were smallish. It was a relief, at least getting used to those mounds would be easier, the smaller the better.
I retained a fading hope that I was still dreaming. No sounds flowed from anywhere in the house. I could see out the window and glimpse a tall mountain in the distance. It looked oddly familiar. This was a stand alone house and not an apartment. Not that it makes an immediate difference at the moment. Who the hell is this kid and how did I get here? Wherever here is. Another beep catches my attention and I disconnect the battery to shut the annoying PDA off. I am not ready to face whoever is waiting for me.
Back to the bed I sit with my PDA in my lap with the folding mini keyboard and battery attached. I glance to the lower right corner of the screen the clock reports six fifteen, August 30 but no year. That is odd, I think. I double click the time to open the calendar. I see only month, day and time reported in annoying red flashing digits. Biting my lip I finally boot up to see a flashing box. You have a message! I am surprisingly calm considering I am a seventy year old male with a doctorate in computer programming harboring the body of a late teen female Goth. I hit the button to read. Interactive Text start with enter key.
“Hello Sarah.” flashes on the screen.
I respond by typing, “you mean Bob.” In almost an instant the screen flashes again, “not anymore Sarah in case you have not noticed Bob does not fit.”
I take another deep breath before firing off a response. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about preferably, before I wake up. I’d hate to repeat this dream again tomorrow.” With almost no pause a text appears.
“This is no dream we heard your offer last night and decided to take you up on it. The Boss downloaded you and Megan into other bodies. You are also in another time period."
“Downloaded,” I type, “you mean I am a freaking Cylon?”
Within seconds a return message appears, “download is an easy way to describe it. The actual mechanics are beyond your grasp. Just be quiet and listen. You were given this opportunity because the boss likes you and considers your life long behavior deserving.”
I type, “great what about Megan where is she?” Then wait for the response more convinced this is a bad dream gone viral. A convoluted answer follows.
“all in due time. You are in the body of a screwed up kid that died tomorrow.”
I blink while typing, “tomorrow? If it is tomorrow how can I be here and where the hell is she?“ Whoever I was texting followed with an incredulous almost sarcastic response.
“Sarah, Sarah, I, don’t have time for this. Consider if we can do what you see before you. Why is it so hard to believe we can replace her before the fatal act?” I, don’t respond and listened as he or it continued. “If her actions had not changed others that were important, we would not have interfered.”
“So,” I begin, “this must be a short test change events by tomorrow and be on my merry way.”
I thought this is getting weird. Though, I want the information I am not too comfortable having a conversation with an unknown actor. I have to humor it to get answers, unless I wake up that is.
“Oh but it will take longer than that. I will explain. Sarah screwed up big time as she rebelled and gravitated toward the drug culture. Her loser of a boy friend conned her into giving him a large amount of her inheritance which she turns over tonight. Sarah has a trust fund given her by her grandmother.”
I jump in with, “Let me get this straight. I am a drugged out little Goth witch who gives her money to a loser and gets killed for it.”
He responds in a cynical manor. “That about sums it up Bob. Except it gets worse. The result causes the girl‘s mother to have a heart attack.”
I exhale even more slowly. I write “just what am I supposed to do? What about the real owner of this body?”
Growing more impatient it interrupts, “I was coming to that. You need to stop the events and get the kid’s life back on track. The boss will then return the girl to her body if she deserves it and you and Megan will be reunited. It is not hopeless. The boss removed all traces of any drug effects and you are once again a virgin.”
With my eyes narrowing I type, “except the many guys who had her are not likely to forget. By the way how many are there? Just how much of a slut am I? Just who is the boss? I have to change the cycle of events and that is it? How long do I have?”
The answer is simple enough, that is for a dream right out the comedy channel, “as long as it takes. You nearly flunked your Junior year and the boss is expecting you to at least graduate high school. The boss is the head of the universe, God for lack of a better name. It was easy for him to wipe their memories of your sexual favors. How many does not matter for now it never happened.”
I blink, thinking rapidly, “a year! What about Megan, don’t tell me, she is the freaking drugged out boy friend.”
A rapid response flashes across the screen, “no, no, you won’t know who Megan is but he,,, ops, has a different task.”
“You slipped.” I replied, “Megan is a he! I bet she let you have it over that.” I waited for a long moment the answer coming after a pause. Then I considered it typed the answer followed by ops meaning that slip was intentional.
“All I can tell you is he is dealing with it and is no longer pissed at you for causing this.”
“Wait a minute!” I nearly scream typing in all caps. “It was not my idea to become a Cylon Goth witch. I only mused about how far I’d go to relieve the pain Megan endured. Don‘t blame your interference on me ”
There was silence for a moment before a response appeared. “Sarah you are not a Cylon, you don’t have to be a Goth that is for you to change. As for witch, you might be, I can’t say but the boss has been known to do that.” I gasp, followed by a quick response, “what now?”
The question raised by the rapid response to my gasp caught me a bit and I blurted out. “I think, and you hear me? Why in the hell am I typing?”
“It was easier for you to handle my girl,” said the voice appearing in my head. He did not wait for a response before continuing.
“Keep your PDA hidden. Once a month on the last Saturday you can communicate with Megan. You are not allowed to reveal who or where you are. That information will not transmit. You are in the year 1979 so you know why that PDA is a secret.”
Did I hear that right? I could not let that go. “You are telling me that your screw up in 1979 is so urgent you waited until 2011 to bring me back in time to correct it? That makes no sense. Did you consider whatever I do will also create changes?” I sat back thinking ‘I got you now.’
The answer was even more of a reach. “The boss has a difficult task running the universe. Sometimes events are missed. I will keep it simple. The girl, Sarah is an important cog in the wheel. Without her descendant an important event that must take place in 2013 cannot happen. Alas any minor disruption you may cause will be of little importance. Your assistance will only prevent this girl from destroying herself, among other little events.”
I, grew weary of this cryptic BS. I exclaim “1979 and we are communicating over an internet. There is no internet in 1979." With a chuckle, I consider the opportunity to purchase some of the stock winners. I respond with, “ok so when do I wake up from this dream?” The PDA goes dark. I reboot it to discover all my programs are there but no internet when I read. “it has not been invented yet.” I consider that adding, “either has any of these programs,” only to read. “Quit bitching enjoy.”
Dangling my feet off the bed I consider this sick joke as I am clearly not dreaming. I have to ditch the boy friend, not give him the money tonight, avoid getting killed and turn a rebel into an honor student. Then just perhaps I get to see Megan again. After that just what is my next magical trick? When was that Microsoft IPO? I muse with a half smile. The voice says, “not for a couple of years.”
“How do I get in touch with you?” I ask aloud. “Turn on the PDA if I have anything to say you will hear me,” comes the reply followed by another voice from a distance. It was not my friend in the magical PDA. No friend is not the right attribute. Handler sounds more like it. This voice came from downstairs. “I hear you are up and moving around. Hurry up and get down here your father wants to talk with you before he leaves.”
Great I think no respite and I have to figure this mess out. “In a few I have to get dressed,” I yell down. Before doing anything else, I bury my PDA into the dark recess of my closet and notice my cell phone is not under the pillow. It went the way of the digital alarm. Cell phones for all practical reasons were not as we know them now. They were mostly mobile phones used in cars, weighed over two pounds and were not very compact. I could see my pulling this little thing out of a purse everyone would freak out and it would not work anyway. How in hell can I get along without the internet? I, shrug and shovel through my closet for clothes. I look through the array of every ugly costume that could possibly exist. I am not a fashion expert but I know gross and this kid mastered in gross. There is nothing here that I could possibly show this body in. Exit the closet and rummage through the drawers. I manage to find a pair of jeans and a silky cream colored tank top, oh well. I grab a pair of boy type nylon panties and a bra and head off to the shower. Mother I suppose, again commands my presence, “are you dressed yet”
I yell back “getting out of the shower, give me a few.” I, can’t get used to this voice, though it sounds nice it is not me. As I stare into the mirror looking at that butt ugly black mane I start beating it with a brush. At least the towering spikes disappeared but there is no semblance of order. Better yet I found no tattoos while examining myself in the shower. I fluff up the hair here and there wondering how on earth do women do it? The problem is I appear to have none of this girl’s memories and will have to fake it. She must have a diary around here someplace. Speak little and listen hard perhaps we can pull this off. I look at the clock and it is well short of eight A.M. What kind of kid gets up before eight on a Saturday? Not this one I bet. With a shrug exhaling a breath of exasperation I open the door to step into the breach.
A long hallway lined with a highly polished maple spindle railing led to the carpeted steps. On a floral paper printed wall was a family portrait. I stopped to gaze at it noting a very attractive blond woman and a handsome man. Both are in their late thirties and of fine health. They stood behind a girl sitting on a straight chair like what you would find in a dining room. Perhaps thirteen or fourteen and quite pretty. Like the mother she had a pixie style blond hair cut. Pixie style is my best description. What do I know? It looked like a young Meg Ryan. I am sure they had a name for it that escaped me. I never did pay too much attention to that stuff. A sudden thought almost brought a chuckle as I mused. The voice said I might be a witch. That begs the question what would Hermione do? That is easy, she’d simply point her wand at the picture whispering, replicate! I suddenly noticed that girl was me. What the hell happened to her? I descended the stairs knowing I had to find that wand.
The stairs empty into an open area on the first floor between the living room and a dinning room. To the left my parents are sitting at the table finishing breakfast. Mom is wearing a sweat suit and dad a tee shirt and jeans both looking very much like the couple in the picture. I walk past mom behind her chair and pour a cup of coffee without saying anything just offering a nod of the head. I sit quickly opposite them as they occupy each end of the table. Mom looks at me with a disapproving gaze while dad’s eyes widen as he mumbles, “coffee?”
I simply nod again knowing better than to start a conversation. The extended silence almost last forever until mom speaks up. “You have to do something with that hair.”
Dad raises his brow while nodding his agreement. Then interjects, “That is the least of it. You are aware we are at our limit with your acting out. It is a good thing there is nothing lower than a grade of F.”
I almost offered another "whatever," but thought the better of it. Instead I agreed to try to do better.
Have you ever wanted to say, "screw it" and run out the door screaming? Just run with no destination. I almost did. That is how I felt it suddenly appeared like I was thrown into the deep end without a life line. I let out a silent scream, 'Megs where the hell are you' I need you now. My withdrawal was broken by words every kid has come to know at one time or another as my father spoke in a steady firm controlled voice.
“Sarah, you are going to change starting now. He added the word teenage girls hate, "grounded forever." Then came his pause for effect. He was not through. “This afternoon you and I are going to take a drive to Pinewood. Before that mother is taking you to get that awful mess out of your hair. You need to look presentable for school next week.”
I rolled my eyes listening. God, he is good! I thought, before saying something stupid.
“Pinewood, is that a cemetery, why are we going there?”
The silence was deafening. I knew I should have simply said, whatever, if I was compelled to speak at all. “Young lady,” came dad’s measured response, “considering your behavior it just might be. It is a private school that is quite demanding. I had to pull a lot of strings to get you in there. We need to introduce you to the dean and pick up your uniforms”
I could think of a lot of one liners such as, just like the president you hid my grades? I decided to keep quiet. It's different president and being a wise ass at this moment not a good choice. Instead I simply nodded my assent. Mom looked stunned I sensed she expected some sort of loud protest. I simply smiled at her asking “when are we going to the barber shop?” I began to consider they were doing exactly what I needed but I should display some resistance for show. This girl would have demonstrated some level of temper. My being new at this girl gig I had no idea how much temper is too much.
Mother smiled repeating “barber shop.” That is not a bad idea because I was thinking how cute you'd look with a buzz cut.” She sipped her coffee ignoring the bait I threw into the water while turning her attention toward father. “Martin why don’t we meet you at the school after we finish at the hair dresser?”
Dad leaned forward considering before nodding his assent and turned toward me. “You are rather quiet, do you have anything to say?”
I rolled my eyes at a complete loss and could only utter a single word, “whatever.”
Mother stood walking straight toward me in a sudden motion. I blinked thinking she was about to slap me. Her eyes widened as she passed wordlessly stopping at the sink where she rinsed her cup. “Whatever, is that all? Meaning whatever you say dear father, I will cooperate? Or whatever, you think you are not in control and I will do whatever I want? Before you answer consider we are going to do what is in your best interest.” She sat back down issuing that look mastered by parents over years of war with teenagers.
I still did not respond verbally but rolled my eyes in the classic whatever display. Father leaned forward cryptically saying. “We are doing this because you told us this is what you wanted.” Stunned, I shot back, “when did I ever say I wanted this?”
Father smiled broadly as leaned forward chin resting in his palms braced by elbows on the table. “Let’s see you chose to be truant, not do your school work and fail classes. You decided to turn a pretty girl into a Goth and run with a crowd of criminals. By your actions you stated clearly you could not make decisions in your own best interest. You screamed loud and clear that you needed tighter restrictions, tougher rules, more supervision and clear boundaries. Because we love you, we are giving you what you said you needed.”
My eyes grew wider as my mouth dropped open unable to answer. Another eternal moment occurred before I could form a response and when I did this came out. “Mother what time is the appointment? I need to go to my room and rest I am tired.” Mother’s expression was one of calm surprise. My answer shocked her as she expected exactly the opposite of how I presented. She could not figure out my attitude shift. My eyes shifted toward father trying to read him. Having raised three kids myself I recognized this guy is good.
Gretchen, that is mother’s name, answered “1 o’clock be ready, you can go to your room but no phone.”
It took seconds for me to exit the table run upstairs and close my door, loud enough for them to hear. I quietly opened it and crept toward the railing to listen. I could hear mother's voice. “What do you think?’ Father responded “it went better than I expected. Is it the quiet before the storm?”
Back in my room I searched frantically for that diary. Without any luck I only managed to create a pile of clothes on the closet floor. I closed the door resolving to make a trip to the Goodwill with a large donation. In desperation I flipped opened the PDA to find a message. “You did good, not too over the top. The diary is under the rug behind the dresser.” Way to go voice, I mouthed silently.
Sitting on the bed legs tucked under me in a position I could never have achieved before waking up in this state. I read and processed the information that was Sarah. I had to pay attention to hygiene which was becoming more and more of a pain. It is a radical change from my old form requirements. I could not wait to complete this mission and get back to normal. Gazing into the mirror I thought, girl you could be a real heart breaker if only you weren’t so screwed up. That obnoxious stud central to my tongue was a real pain, it had to go. How anyone could consider this to be an advantage was a mystery to me. How do I get rid of it? Then I thought of the voice and a devilish idea formed, What would Hermione do? I stared into the mirror sticking my tongue out. Pointing a finger at the stud like a wand I shouted, “Removify.” Feeling a bit foolish I blinked, the damn thing was gone. With an impish smile I wondered how far can I go with this. Worse, how do I explain where it went? Keep my mouth shut for now and claim I popped into the clinic later. Hours passed as it is now crowding noon and with a new understanding I stashed the PDA and went downstairs to face mother. I did not dare try the wand trick on my hair because I could in no way explain the change.
I did learn that father was an executive with an area lumber company. When this state, New York, began it’s attack on logging, lumber mills and everything concerning forest products it destroyed the local economy. Lost jobs caused severe financial hardships. Most working class families suffered. Many moved away. Those who stayed accepted low pay service level jobs. These well intentioned progressive ideas always have unintended consequences. Those who advocate policy changes are never the ones affected. It is always people like Sarah who suffer the consequences. People who had decent paying jobs not only lost their security they lost their sense of self as well.
Dad landed on his feet getting a high paying job with the phone company. Sarah took the brunt of it as the kids singled her out because her family did not suffer as most did. Her father had nothing to do with it but that did not matter. She rebelled buying into the notion her father was partly to blame for the economic destruction. Being an engineer I understood the need to protect the environment but I also knew the game was played by creating a villain. There never seemed to be a middle ground with these passionate issues. A fourteen year old became a target. She rebelled resenting both her parents and those who targeted her. She was essentially friendless and a tool of those from the dark side. I am a little more sympathetic toward the girl and beginning to take this personally. Because of the diary, I at least figured out I was in NY thousands of miles from where I had lived. But exactly where I am not sure and it is not a question I could simply ask, “hey mom what is the name of this town?” Sure I will ask that question. That mountain out the window I think I know what that is, hmm.”
The ride to the salon was done in almost total silence. Mom was acting a bit defensive as if she expected me to bolt out of the car at any minute. I decided perhaps some non threatening conversation would help.
“How long is this going to take?”
Mom took a deep exasperated breath. "Are you planning to go somewhere? Because, you are not." Since you ask, it will take an hour.”
I exhaled slowly for dramatic effect. “Then we go to the prison right?”
I heard an exaggerated sigh. The woman to my left, spoke again. “I am not your enemy we are only doing what is best for you. Clearly, you are not happy where you are going to school. Think of this as an opportunity for a new start. I volunteered to drive you the twenty-five minutes each way on a daily basis because I love you.”
Sarah most likely would have come back with a snippy one liner. Instead I changed the subject. “Do we have any of those thirty gallon leaf bags at home.”
Gretchen blinked, “What! Why are you going to rake the lawn?”
I laughed, “no I need to clean out my closet and make a trip to Goodwill. I doubt my present wardrobe will fit my new style. By the way, what do you think if I get it cut short, feathered in layers covering my ears with a slight touch of bangs? I want it sort of like yours but not the same.”
Mother almost slams on the breaks. She, stammers “are, are you serious?
I answer, "of course I am."
Mother responds "I’d like that done in your natural color. Why did you suddenly change your mind?"
Capitulation is never easy and having never been a rebel I had no interest in playing one. I was aware to achieve my assignment an end to this war of attrition must be found. There were bigger battles to fight. From what I could determine the enemy was not Sarah’s parents. Not only did I need to figure out how to get through this mess I needed a safe place to operate. To answer her question was not easy. Better to say little, “because it is time?”
I sat in the chair as Gloria approached with a perky persona chirping non stop as she began her work on my wild crop. I had instructed her that I liked the look of O.N.J. on her Physical album cover and wanted my natural honey blond coloring back. The album had not been released yet. Try explaining the Physical look when the rage is a few years in the future. Gloria handed me a book and I found something close. In about an hour she finished and here I sit gazing into a mirror with a younger version of Olivia looking back. I wondered what Megs would say if she could see her old man now. I just starred as Gloria waited for my reaction. All I could think of is wow, I like the new me. All I could say is “cool.” All I lack is the singing voice and the Australian accent.
Mom was speechless and obviously quite pleased as we walked back to the car. She kept repeating statements like “Your father will be pleased.”
She made attempts to sell me on the new school. I was not too thrilled about that aspect. It was like being thrown to the wolves. I may be able to fool the adults but the peer group is a different animal. I never gave a thought to the possibility the new Sarah would be viewed as a trophy, worse yet she is hot! It proved to be a twenty five minute drive to the outskirts of a medium sized city where a stately Victorian array of ivy covered buildings formed the school’s campus. It looked like something set in the English countryside. I could smell preppy it reeked of preppy.
Inside we met the stuffy middle aged portly Dean having indicated the term Head Master was out dated. Groveling appeared to be the preferred persona so I remained as silent as I could while the Dean droned on about tradition, selectivity and honor. They had a limited number of seats. He claimed the school allowed for two hundred students spread through four year levels. Fortunately for us a few in the coming senior year caused a scene and were asked to leave. Mother and father did all the talking as I mostly looked out the window hoping to avoid any evaluation. That was not to be as they ushered me into another room where I spent the next hour taking some dumb tests to establish my basic ability. With that done we were given a tour of the grounds and buildings. Again the Dean droned on and on. I contributed only a few yes and no sirs doing my part to schmooze keeping parents and Dean happy.
Another hour had passed before the dean was approached by a smiling lackey. Then read the paper mumbling, “very good, very good. Your daughter Mr. and Mrs. Ryan is very impressive”
I blinked not sure if this was a good thing or not as he droned on.
“You will start Thursday after the weekend’s holiday. We will go to the office for your schedule and don’t forget to get your uniforms. Three sets didn’t you say Mrs. Ryan?”
Mother nodded and the Dean followed with, “Blue blazer, white blouse with a blue and gold plaid skirt. No more than an inch above the knees and of course you can wear navy tights during the cold months.”
I rolled my eyes thinking great I hoped to avoid skirts and tights. I thought myself as a jeans girl. Megs will love this. Now I have to get home, talk to Megs and figure out how to get rid of the inbred Mark. Yes, the sick boy friend has a name. All of this right after a trip to Radio Shack.
We ate at the local Mickey D’s arriving home at six pm. Talk about cutting it close, in an hour I could contact Megs. At least I’d know if she was firmly on the ground. Though I am uncertain how she is viewing our circumstance. Did I really create this mess? Does she really want to work toward our reunion? Is she pissed about being a guy or worse yet does she like the idea? Too many questions and I still have to lay out my plan to deal with that loser Mark. I suspect from Sarah’s brain washed writings this guy is dangerous.
I picked up several trash bags along with my uniforms and told my parents I would be spending the next few hours cleaning out my closets. Hopefully, this will give me cover and time to talk with Megs. They simply smiled upon hearing the information probably hoping this new Sarah was not another trick. I threw together one bag rather quickly and dragged it downstairs.
Father intercepted me as I rounded the corner into the dinning room toward the outside door.
“You were serious” He said with a pleased tone.
Still walking toward the door I answered, “Oh yeah the Goth thing has gone past its prime.” It was the first thing that came to mind.
Dad smiled saying “You can throw it the back of my car. I will take it to Goodwill Monday on my way to work.”
Upon my return from the car I added “I have a lot more.” A bit relieved I did not have to do it myself.
Dad gave me a hug as I turned toward the stairs. Mom just looked doubtful but at least she appeared a bit more relaxed.
Back on my bed I booted up just before seven and the Voice greeted me with another warning. “I am listening you cannot reveal who or where you are or any details of your circumstances.”
I nodded my assent with no response and the voice after a long moment repeated his warning.
“Did you hear me?” He asked.
My eyes widened and I began typing rapidly answering in the affirmative and asked. “Where is Megan?” I did not expect an address but rather inquired when will she be connected.
“She will be right on I will be quiet now” the voice answered.
“No wait” I typed in caps because I‘d rather read lines of text than hear voices in my head.
The voice came back “what is it?”
“I wanted to know this Mark fellow can I reach him on the PDA?”
“What an odd question I think you can tap into his phone by typing the number. Why do you ask?”
The voice sounded interested as my query caught him off guard.
“As you know my problem is tonight and perhaps I need to call him to set up a meet. It is not like I can use the phone and getting out of here is not the easiest scam to pull off.”
My handler gave off a thoughtful hum before answering.
“The powers of your magic PDA can handle that. You type he hears your voice and his words come back to you as text.”
“Thanks now where is Megan.” Before I can add anything else, he is gone and a single word pops up on the screen.
"Hi" the one word message appears on my screen.
“Megs?” I type excitedly.
“Bob?” she responds.
My head is spinning as I fire away. “How are you how are you feeling?’
“I am feeling great, never better. This is really weird.”
Megs goes on for a minute longer telling me she is not sure she likes being a guy. Then she admitted there are some advantages. Somewhat relieved I asked her. “You are not mad at me for creating this mess?”
How could you know babe? You did not do anything other than worry about me. You have always looked out for me?” She then added. “Speaking about babe, I hear you are quite the looker.” As is her nature she responded with teasing.
I grimaced, “Uh it takes some getting used to. Though, you caught on quickly calling me babe already. I know you can’t say anything. How hard is what you have to do?”
She assures me that it is nothing too difficult and is hopeful we will be reunited soon. I find it hard to think of my wife as a he. I agree to that again. While seeking reassurance I ask, “is everything is ok, you are all right?”
Again she assures me that things are different but she feels great. She did question who is in charge. The little man salutes every cute girl she sees.
I laugh before typing “It goes with the territory and leave the cute girls alone.”
We talked for about thirty minutes and I did learn she could see the same mountain from her bed room window that I could. Meg was always great with descriptions and to non mountain climbers one mountain looks much like another. But her description of a series of slides appearing to spell the word no was the tip off. The voice soon disconnected us until next month but I was certain Meg was in this town. Now to figure out who he is.
I read Sarah’s diary again. She revealed Mark and his friend were low life drug dealers who got her hooked on meth. She paid for her habit by doing favors for both Mark and Walter. She only had sex with Walter to prove her love for Mark. Mark said watching her do Walter gave him great satisfaction. She was convinced by Mark to give him three thousand dollars from her account. If she did not, Mark’s creditors would do him considerable harm. She was to give him the money by this evening. That explains the three A.M. phone call. Obviously Sarah had not drawn the money out of the bank. Unless she got it yesterday and hid it somewhere. I know I did not go get it and Sarah was removed before 1 A.M. “What about it voice when did you remove Sarah?’ I typed into my laptop.
His rapid response spread out on the screen. “Yesterday, right after a blow out with her parents after dinner, why do you ask?” Came the quick response to which I replied.
“I need to know if she got the money for her friend.”
The voice said, “no it was up to you to get it today.”
Slightly bent out of shape I thanked him for setting me up. “There is no way I can get it now. Thanks for not telling me. Is there anything else I should know? It is fun playing your games but the least you can do is explain the freaking rules. Like how many other people are screwing this babe?”
The voice showing irritation fired back. “I told you no one that has been erased.”
I considered this a moment. “So Walt does not remember banging Sarah. About my lover Mark, I have a plan but a few more details will help.’
The voice assured me that neither of these guys remembered having sex with Sarah but they both were going to do her big time when she showed with the money tonight. I signed off letting him know that I was less than pleased with this operation. At least that saves me a conversation with my parents trying to figure out the girl’s actions yesterday. I’m not sure I wanted to know about the big blow out. It was time to test my theory.
I reached into the dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts and threw them on the floor. Let’s see if that finger works. I recall a spell from my studies of Hogwarts. Yeah I know it is fantasy and pure fiction. Then again here I am a seventy year old man in the body of a seventeen year old girl using a PDA that has not been invented yet. I look at this angelic face in the mirror and fully believe that Hogwarts spells just might work. Looking down at the shorts I point my magic finger and said, Engorgio. The shorts blew up from a size three to a size twelve in seconds. I smiled broadly, pointed my finger again saying Reducio. Bang back to a size three. Grinning even more broadly I mused I like this. Let’s try another one. I walk into the hall close my eyes and focus on my bathroom. I think Apparate, suddenly I get dizzy and find myself standing in the tub. This is going to take practice. So I am a witch. I, don’t know how good but we are going to find out.
I open the PDA and type in Mark’s number and quickly hear, “What’s up babe, got the money?’
I respond rather quickly by typing Obliviate Sarah. It is a spell that erases whatever you dictate from the target’s memory. I am counting on it causing Mark to forget he knows me. I heard Mark saying “Who is this?”
I answer, “You don’t remember me. I am Walter’s girl is he there?”
The phone is handed over because I hear, “Hello.”
I quickly type Obliviate Sarah.
“Look bitch quit playing games whoever you are.” I hung up.
I am not sure if that worked but the reaction suggest it may have. I accomplished task number one. All I have to do now is complete a school year and find Megs. I have to know if this worked because I don’t need to be ambushed by a couple of thugs. I sit there for several minutes feet dangling from the bed. I decide that I need to sneak over to Harry’s Dog Shack. That is where Mark and Walter hang out. If I walk in and they, don’t know me then all is well. If they do, I sure hope this apparate spell works.
The problem became how do I get out of here? Sarah’s diary informed me of her oft used route down the trellis from her window. Thanks to the short hair there was no need to tie it back. I simply donned a Yankee baseball cap which I promised to lose before I get back. The tight jeans were a chore to snake into but with a sloppy blue sweat shirt I was ready to go. I spied my purse on the bed stand. Shaking my head in denial, no purse for me, I jammed my essentials into the pockets of my jeans and crawled out the window. It was a bit shaky descending down that trellis but soon the feet were secure on the ground I quickly scampered into the trees. Having never done this before, I was rather out of my element. I shrugged, in for a penny in for a pound, closed my eyes concentrating on the village park in my mind. The non verbal thought of apparate repeated through clenched teeth deposited me near the bandstand. God, I thought, thank goodness no one saw that. I have to be more careful. Without warning I could hear the Voice comment, “yes you do.”
I could see the dog shack across the main street on the other side of the park. I approached the door tepidly entering quietly. There sat Mark and Walter in a dark corner. Sarah had their pictures, that is how I knew. Ignoring them, I walked to the counter and sat on a stool. I could feel their stares as unseen eyes measured my profile as if I am a piece of meat. I glance into a large wall mirror behind the counter watching their reflection. They are huddled together mumbling while tilting their gaze toward me. It is quite unsettling as the counter man walks over, “whadda you have?”
Taking a short breath I answer, “a dozen dogs with the works to go.”
He turns, placing the order into a white cardboard carton, closes it then hands it over saying, “three bucks.”
I fish three singles from my pocket handing them over and turn to leave. My way is blocked by Mark and Walter with the former saying, “you can’t leave just yet babe.”
I blink trying to step past him. “Out of my way I, don’t know you clowns.”
Walter steps closer saying, “quite true but you will before the night is over.”
He does not finish his comment as his leer is interrupted by an angry blond woman rushing through the door. She grabs Walter by the arm spinning him around. “Crawl back into your hole slug while you still can.”
Turning to me she says, “in the car.” Stunned I rush out directly to the car with mom marching behind.
The short ride home featured a non stop lecture ending with “you are grounded.”
I sheepishly respond “I only went out to get us some hot dogs.”
That was met with an icy stare and stone silence. It was only a ten minute drive but it seemed forever. Dad looked furious as he was greeted with mom’s ’I told you so stare’. I scampered up the stairs to my room. I no sooner settled down on a corner of my bed, opened up the PDA when Dad’s voice called up from the bottom of the stairs. “You better get down here the dogs are getting cold.”
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Bob and Megan, a married couple in their final years retired for the night. Just before drifting off to sleep Bob made an off hand comment to which Megan agreed with a slight twist. They did not know something was listening and granted their wish. How will this challenge work out when they hardly know the rules of the game?
The premise is what if. What if as a senior citizen you were sent back in time into the body of a teenager of the different sex. You were given a task to perform but none of the host's memories. You retained your own knowledge and memories. Could you navigate that world? What would the experience do to you?
Sept 20, 2011
Newly edited through the unforgiving seventh grade English teacher. There are a few minor changes but nothing to alter the story. You will notice a change from first person narrative to third person in some scenes. This is intentional. The primary focus is from Bob/Sarah's point of view. I shifted to third person when Bob/Sarah was not involved in the scene and for areas where scene setting is involved. With that in mind it should lessen any confusion. I trust this helps convince you there is a method for the writers madness and it is not a lack of skill. This decision may be a failure but I did it on purpose.
Rights reserved by the author with permission to host granted exclusively to Big Closet.
In part two Bob cautiously explores his new persona with little direction as he attempts to rebuild Sarah’s life. He learns trust once broken is difficult to reclaim. He finds an ally in Sarah’s grandmother and may have discovered who his wife, Megan became.
I again sat on the bed with PDA fired up after an eternal hour of eating hot dogs I did not want while listening to both parents wax on and on about safety, bad behavior and another week of grounding. My adult mindset agreed with everything they said while my Sarah presentation showed appropriate teen angst. I was actually feeling pretty good with my performance as deep down I knew the adults in the room would never accept total surrender. My task was clear straighten this kid out while displaying an appropriate amount of resistance. It seemed my association with the two criminals was dissolved. With my new look and new school perhaps the worst is over. I was ready to become Bob again and give Sarah her life back. My conversation with the Voice suggested other wise.
According to my handler I did in fact avert the death of the girl while avoiding a family disaster but everything gained would be lost by the return of the real Sarah. There was work to do such as getting through my senior year. I was also informed Megs was still working toward completing her tasks. The Voice would not hear of allowing us to work together. He will not allow us to know the others' persona.
There is this nagging feeling that whoever is pulling the strings is not exactly forthright. There is a plan I may not like in motion. It appears I am stuck for another year or at least the greater part of it. I had a bit less than a week before having to enter the terrifying halls of Yuppie Tech. It would be advantageous to be able to wander about town to understand the lay of the land but the hot dog stunt bound me to the house. It did provide valuable information that I needed to have. I went to sleep and did not have any dreams in spite of the adventurous and quite unexpected day I had.
It is bad enough my center of gravity is totally skewed. I get hit with another curve ball at breakfast. Mom announced I was going to spend tomorrow with grandmother. It seems my parents need a brake. I smiled inwardly. ‘I wonder why they need a day of respite?’ This means more research once I get back to my room. I spent considerable time reviewing Sarah’s scrap books looking at pictures of friends. I discovered it was a short list, though I did learn that Sarah and her grandmother were pretty tight.
I searched through the box of goodies I picked up at Radio Shack yesterday. I decided since it is 1979 I could at least enjoy reliving the Pirates drive to the pennant and world series win. Out came the transistors, capacitors and the like to construct an antenna so I could get the games on the radio. The damn PDA, magic as it was needed help as I simply could not pull the station up on the internet. I thought about that for a bit and considered if my abilities could actually pull that off or if I am a prisoner of A.M. radio reception. I had no idea if I could pull in a signal from that distance but I was an engineer. So up went the antenna mounted outside the bedroom window, just in case. It would provide cover if I were able to pull the magic PDA trick off.
Dad was working in the garage on a circuit board he appeared quite perplexed as I walked in. Looking over his shoulder I asked, “what’s up?” He answered by explaining he was trying to build an enhanced receptor for phone connections. He was trying to boost signal strength but it was not responding as he expected. I grinned pointing to his board layout. “You need to beef up the transistors by ten percent and you need another capacitor over there.” I pointed to the spot where I thought it was needed.
“You are always teasing me aren’t you Princess?”
I offered a pouting smile. “Yeah what do I know?”
Then I walked into the back yard. I turned on the PDA while sitting at the circular aluminum table under the oversized umbrella. The PDA appeared in size and shape as a small radio that everybody seemed to have especially when head phones were attached. I could talk to the Voice without typing providing plenty of cover. If anyone saw me, they would think I was zoned out listening to my tunes.
The Voice told me when I wanted to go up that mountain to ask dad. He would love to take me as that is his passion. I filed that as I starred at the Giant with a restless gaze. Unexpectedly, I heard dad approach and quickly put away the PDA. “How did you know that?” he asked.
“Know what?” I feigned
Dad smiled, “the circuit board.”
“Oh that,” I shrugged, “it is the same principal as used in the antenna I built.”
“Antenna?” he asked.
Nodding I answered, “remember the trip to Radio Shack? I wanted to build an antenna to get the ball games and picked up an instruction book. It looked like the circuit you were building was similar to the booster I used for the antenna.”
He looked doubtful shaking his head. “You were right are there anymore surprises?”
I smiled “will you take me up that mountain?” I pointed to the Giant.
Dad exhaled slowly appearing surprised but pleased, “next Saturday.” He starred at me for a long moment asking “Sarah are you in there?” Without waiting for an answer he went into the house. I begin to think perhaps I will get through this.
The next day I find myself standing in a garden while my grandmother draws a trowel between flowers planted in a row behind the house. Without looking up she says in a soft voice, “it’s about time.”
“About time for what?” I ask cautiously. She continues to move clumps of black dirt from one place to another without speaking. I repeat, “about time for what.” Again no immediate answer came. Eventually, she stands, turns slowly to face me. I can see concern in her still youthful wrinkle free face. She looks nearly as young as my mother.
“It’s about time you figured out who you are. I sense some progress was made in the past few days. Though, it came sooner than I expected.”
I stare at her blankly unable to think of what to say.
“What,” she begins, “You think you can cast simple spells without causing a ripple? You think I would not know? I thought you had the gift and was concerned how you would use it.” She finishes dusting herself off smoothing the wrinkles from her blouse continuing to measure my reaction with her gaze.
I stared at her for a moment before replying in a soft voice, “why would I even think you would be aware? I did what I had to do there was no mischievous or malicious intent.”
She stepped forward without releasing her gaze, “daughter you and I have a connection you must have sensed it. How else would you have known to do what you did?”
I sat down upon the garden’s low stone wall my expression emitting confusion betraying my thoughts of, ‘what in hell is going on here?’
Bemused grandmother sat next to me taking my hand, “you never suspected?”
“Why should I?” I answered quickly. “What am I or rather should I ask who are we?” I emphasized the word we.
Grams smiled softening her gaze, “in due time child. I can see you are just beginning to waken from your innocence. I sense there is something different about you. What it is, I, don’t know. There is something,” her voice tailed off as she stood. “We will talk more about it later.” She hugged me then stood back. “I admired how you handled the situation and I admit I was deeply concerned you would fail.”
As we walked toward the house my thoughts were confused. If she were so astute why in the deuce didn’t she stop it and why did the Voice need me in the first place? Am I being set up? “Grams” I asked. If you knew what I was up to why didn’t you stop me?”
She quickly turned clasped my hand and gazed deeply into my eyes. “I could not the rules are clear I must allow you to make your own mistakes. I knew the consequences if you made the choice I expected. Your sudden change shocked but pleased me. I, don’t pretend to know what changed.” She deepened her gaze adding. “You are different.”
Over a cup of tea I asked her, “so you were prepared to let me take the money and give it to those guys?”
She leaned forward shaking her head. “No, I ordered the brokers to disallow you the ability to withdraw more than fifty dollars a week.”
I gulped, “had I attempted to do that then what?”
She smiled. “Who knows what you would have done out of frustration. But you made the right decision.”
I took gram’s hand whispering “I love you.”
As I rode home with dad we did not talk much as I quietly watched the mountains we sped by. Grams told me. I was allowed to invest the money with a warning that any attempt to use my powers to influence those investments would cause ripples bringing down the wrath of those who could not be named. I giggled recalling my response to grams, “don’t mess with the Muggle’s financial markets.”
Her reaction was humorous. “The who?”
I simply said, “never mind,” thinking she is not ready for Harry and Hermione.
After a quiet dinner save references to the other night’s outing and how I had to learn responsibility and had to suffer the consequences of my actions I sat in my room. The hot dog trip was exactly what I needed to establish some credibility. It would not be believable if Sarah just went along. Resistance may have been futile but an appropriate display of resistance is what they expect. This girl is certainly screwed up if she could not understand her parents were killing themselves to give her what she needed.
The wealth of information in her diary was essential. It gave me idea who her friends were. More accurately said It reported who she despised. Just how was I going to fake being her? I learned she had no friends as her dead girl walking through the halls of public school shut out everyone. The goth persona was her wall to ward off entry. I was certainly not looking forward to presenting myself in the preppy girl’s school uniform. A fresh start with new people is just what we need. I berated the Voice bitching at him for all the information he withheld getting the lame answer that it is part of the challenge. He informed me that I should be grateful I was allowed the rote abilities that came with this body. I had to give him that. I could not have done makeup and deal with sanitary issues on my own without serious mistakes.
Gazing in the mirror the total babe I saw looking back amazed me. She is one serious heart breaker though I had no intent of exploring that area. Downplay was my plan. No makeup, except for a bit around the eyes. No lip gloss, no nail polish, though those nails were nice. Definitely no skirts just jeans, except for that freaking uniform. I did not look forward to that. Bored I went downstairs and saw dad sitting on the sofa watching the Yankee game. I tossed my ball cap at him, “here you keep it.”
He caught it in one hand while looking at me, “you don’t want it?”
I grit my teeth, “the Yankees suck. Did my new hat arrive yet?”
He smiled again “this will give us something fun to argue about for a change.”
I nodded looked at my watch it was seven thirty. “Got a half hour,” I said as I sat down.
Dad asked, “half hour for what?”
My antenna can’t pull in the Pirate game before dark.
He laughed, “that was an amazing job you did with that antenna.”
We watched the game for a little bit before I stood “Gotta go listen to my guys pound the Braves.”
Dad fired back, “have fun though it is a loosing cause.”
I could not resist, “at least my guys will be in the series.” then scampered upstairs.
I could hear mom comment to dad “what was that all about?”
He answered. “I, don’t know but I like it.”
It was a busy week as I buried myself in the girl’s writings learning all I could about her. It had become clear to me her isolation was pretty complete as not a single phone call came in from any of her old friends. Then again Sarah had no school friends and I wiped the memory of her from the bad associates. It presented a sense of security while at the same time an odd feeling of trepidation.
The week ended with the holiday and the trip up the mountain with dad. What surprised dad was my insistence to follow the ridge line a mile plus to bag another open peak. I drank in the glorious view that had not changed in the slightest from when my other self climbed it years ago. I enjoyed the energy this body provided as I had not felt this strong in a long time. I discovered, first hand that females are not as physically strong as men. The trade off came in form of my seventeen year old female form being stronger than a seventy year old man.
I questioned why I accepted the change so easily. My conclusion was going from seventy to seventeen had to have a price. This one cost me my gender but you play the hand you are given. Once I accomplish my task I will be my new self. So I promised me.
“What a great view,” I exclaimed.
Dad responded “I never bothered to come over here before. This is more scenic than the first peak. How did you know?”
I blinked, “magazines?”
It took less time to return to the car though that five hundred foot climb back up to the opposing ridge from the col between the mountains was a strenuous test. After a quiet dinner with my parents, appearing quite content I got up and washed the dishes. Mom looked at me with an amazed expression but said nothing. I responded to her gaze with, “what?”
She shook her head, “nothing.”
It is an automatic dishwasher no big deal I thought. I then bounded up to my room after informing them “T.V. sucks.” I wanted to use my PDA to consider this weeks actions.
The Voice arrived at once sounding a bit put off challenging me over placing all of Sarah’s money into five stocks. “So you decided to take advantage by growing the girl’s finances isn’t that cheating?” His scolding tone raised my ire.
I responded pointing out a few irritants on my own. "You allowed me none of the girl’s memories while asking me to clean up her act. Yet I am in the dark regarding a few minute details. Minor tidbits such as who in hell this girl is and what makes her tick. That handicap does not bother you.” Without giving him a chance I went on, “I am only using my knowledge and not manipulating a damn thing. You tell me by keeping me in the dark it adds to the challenge. So I am using what I know.”
He was silent so I continued. “When the kid comes back she will be better off. It is not my responsibility for any decisions she makes later. You can’t argue I am not taking good care of her. I am not making a dime off it.”
I sat back and finally the Voice acquiesced, “ok you are right no points lost.”
I had evenly placed the money into five stocks. One was a high rocket that peaked at tripling its price then dropped like a rock flaming out. I instructed the broker to sell at the triple price and spread the results over the other four. He questioned my choices but I was firm the other four are long term holds. The kid was going to have a pile when I was done. Why do it, when I gain nothing? Why not do it, I challenge myself. I’m bored sitting around here waiting to step into the fire.
Two days after the holiday I find myself standing at the entry way of Preppy tech dressed in this uniform that I never expected to be wearing. My skirt was an inch above the knee giving me the impression it was at my neck. The blue blazer nearly concealed the white blouse and those budding breast. The ones I have been afraid to touch or explore. The same ones that unbalanced my center of gravity and created a large concern. The angst is because I had grown so accustomed to them. I barely notice them anymore they feel natural. Now that is a concern. In truth the idea scares the hell out of me. The good part is I do not have to wear a neck tie like the guys do. It is that never ending feeling of exposure from below the hem line that really concerns me. How in the hell do you walk with your knees locked together?
I spun the dial to open my locker to grab books for the first two classes fully aware of the stares aimed in my direction. Most gazes come from guys getting a look at the new girl. A few evaluating glances come from girls measuring the new competition. Navigating this pool of sharks is going to be an adventure. As I walk down the hall toward my first class which is history I feel strange. It is like every eye measures every movement, every trace of my being, like I was quarry. I opened the ornate oak door to step into the classroom and am taken back by what I see. It did not look like a classroom it looked more like a large office with stuffed chairs and low tables. Room for perhaps ten people with a larger desk front and center. Yeah right I thought, there are only fifty seniors in the entire school resulting in small classes with no place to hide. At least the seating is comfortable.
Forty minutes passed easily as the teacher Ms Riley did not lecture the entire time. She stated her topic and forced students to question and discuss details. She challenged everyone to contribute and let no one off the hook. The problem is no one seemed ill prepared. I thought no faking it here. The topic is the American Revolution. She asked what was unique about it getting no answer from the ten skulls of mush in the room. As I waited for her enlightenment she turns to me. “Miss Ryan welcome to our school. I am sure you will enjoy it here.” I nodded 'thank you' still not wanting to step into it. She went on, “could you tell us what was unique about the revolution?” She must have known Sarah’s horrible school record and wanted to establish her superior standing. Did she really want to put the new girl in her place? I glanced back at her repeating the question. “What was unique about the revolution?”
I began softly as I leaned forward in my chair knees close together. “It was not a revolution at all.” Ms Riley displayed a bemused expression while the classroom produced an array of chuckles. The teacher said, “go on.” I continued “A revolution is an action to over throw the government and establish a new one.” She agreed. “Then consider what was there at the time. The colonies had self governed for nearly two hundred years with little or no control established by the crown. The colonies had established their own houses of government with their own elected leaders. They in fact were fighting to preserve the established government and protect the status quo. There was no intent to separate from England. If a revolution is to over throw the government how can you call this a revolution when your aim is to defend the established government?”
The silence was deafening while Ms. Riley beamed. “Miss Ryan”, she began. “You have defined the situation precisely no student has ever answered this question with such insight in my class before. I expect you will be a welcome addition, well done. You are correct.” I nodded satisfied and sat back. My eyes darted around the room everyone looked at me somewhat impressed. I wondered ‘what have I done?’
Each class room appeared as the first. I did not create the same effect in each. I, at least emerged unscathed. Finally, it was lunch time and another gauntlet to run.
A wide rectangle with tables and chairs you expect to see in a lunch room appeared before me. The far wall featured a row of windows providing ample light. After securing a plate of food that barely resembled anything identifiable, I looked for a seat. A tall guy walked toward me. He was on the cute side appearing overly confident. I thought cute what is wrong with me? I decided the Sarah side of me is supposed to notice cute guys. I shuddered at that thought.
“Hi” he said, “I’m Paul.
I nodded adding, “Sarah,” and paused. I did not shut him down completely when he asked me to join his friends in the corner, “perhaps another time.”
I continued walking forward when a girl from the history class waved her arms, “Ryan” motioning me to her. I stepped to her table, “join me?” She asked. I sat down looking at the attractive girl with dark eyes and black shoulder length hair. “You are Claire Wilson aren’t you?” She beamed, “you remembered from class.”
I placed my tray on the table and sat across from her smoothing my skirt. I learned the motion by watching Megan over the years. My small purse remained hanging by a shoulder strap under my blazer. I nudged it out of the way toward my left side as I ate slowly. Claire is rather subdued speaking softly and she is very interested in where I came up with that idea about the revolution. I just shrugged it off saying I had read that somewhere and the idea intrigued me. As I ate I glanced toward a group of girls sitting ten feet away or so. They were giving me the once over clearly trying to measure me.
Between bites I said to Claire, “is that the hot girls club?”
She smiled nodding with a whisper, “the cool heartbreaking cheer leaders.”
I smiled and before I could respond Claire added, “here he comes.”
I look up in time to notice Paul walk over his eyes darting between Claire and I as he sits between us. “Hi doll,” he says to Claire as he smiles to her, “I already met your friend.”
Claire pokes him mockingly, as she offers to me, “he’s my bf but hard to control. Paul Miller, who is to leave Sarah alone, understand?” She finishes in a stern voice.
Paul nods while looking at me. “I thought you would be over there,” directing his gaze toward the popular girls.
I shook my head “why?”
Paul begins with a sly smile, “with your looks you fit right in.” Claire elbows him.
Paul feigns injury as he, quips “I heard about the history class. You are too smart for them.”
If there was ever a trap this was it, I mused to myself. I knew the girls could hear him. Claire looked taken back. This is the time to try my witching ability and apply a bit of diplomacy or spread the b.s. I glanced at Paul then to the cheerleaders. I used my powers to transmit my speech to appear as a whisper. The point was to let the girls think they were overhearing.
“Paul are you suggesting those girls are all looks and no brains? I hate to break it to you but cheerleading is hard work you have to display athletic ability. A girl must constantly work to keep her appearance perfect. She must have excellent grades to stay on the team. Athletic, intelligent and good looks that is not easy.”
Claire’s eyes widen and Paul sits as if he were gob smacked. I could see the girls were taken back having heard that. Perhaps it will cut me some slack and avoid what I expected to be a turf war. I just wanted to be left alone.
The bell rang for class and I quickly headed to the door when a cheerleader caught up with me. “Hi, I’m Trish, we heard what you said, thanks”
I faked surprise saying “I thought I was whispering.”
Trish smiled “voices carry especially when we are eavesdropping. Paul is right you should consider trying out for the team”
I giggled adding a shrug, “I, don’t know about that you guys are likely way better than me. Thank You for the offer. I’ll see ya later.” Then ran to class.
I cautiously navigated through the balance of the day. Dressed as I am in a girl's school uniform is shocking enough to my psyche. Several boys sized me up with that come hither gaze I found unsettling. That will take some getting used to. At one point I scared myself when I realized I looked at them. I placated my alarm by denying an interest in boys. In my effort to feed my denial. I created the excuse. I was trying to determine which one is Megs. Claire and I had another class together and we exchanged phone numbers with the promise we would talk tonight. At last I am in the car on my way home.
Mom is doubtful of my new presentation. I can see that in her demeanor. She made small talk as she drove home. She asked non threatening questions such as “how was school? Did you make friends and the like?”
I just wanted to get home and shed this uniform so I am less than enthusiastic. I wanted to talk to Meg. I wanted to figure out who (he) is. I knew if I wore that black baseball cap with the gold P Meg was smart enough to take the hint. I never met a Pirate fan in Northern NY. They have not forgiven us for Mazeroski’s home run nineteen years ago. I still have the taped broadcast of that game. Well no Bob has that three thousand miles from here. With that thought I tightened up, ‘What am I doing? How do I get out of this mess? I want to see my wife.’ With those thoughts I laughed considering how a seventeen year old girl misses her wife. The old lady would go nuts if she heard that thought. Mom stared at me noting my sudden change of demeanor.
“What is wrong?” She asked.
“Nothing just stray thoughts, no biggie.” By three pm, we were pulling into the driveway.
In the front door and like a streak I run up the stairs practically diving into my room closing the door quickly. Within seconds the uniform was stripped off and I found myself in the shower. Washing this body is an adventure feeling sensations I never before felt. No it was not the first shower I took as Sarah but it is the first time I felt myself up. I shook my head at that thought, ’no I am examining my attributes nothing so crass as feeling myself up. That seventy year old man needs to keep those thoughts at bay’. When I stepped out I dressed in a pair of royal blue shorts and pink tee. As I brushed my hair my gaze froze upon the image. “O.M.G!” I exclaimed “I do look like her just like she did on the Physical album.”
I gazed at my legs then the face then the hair. I quickly ran back to the dresser, lost the shorts and threw on a pair of jeans before I went down stairs. Olivia had worn her hair longer until the Physical album release in 1981. The hair makes the difference. I relaxed a bit thinking ’they won’t say hey I look like O.N.J. Not for two years anyway and I will be gone.’ In the hall mirror I glanced at myself knowing full well the hair cut made little difference. I am still a babe and have to be very careful.
“Yes, you are beautiful.” My mother’s voice broke my trance. I wanted to say ‘I know that is what scares me.’ Instead in a small voice I scratched out “no more than you.”
I stepped off the stairs walking into the kitchen. I poured a cup of coffee from the always on pot and sat at the table, “mom?”
Gretchen cautiously entered still not convinced Sarah’s recent behavior is not another ploy as she waited for the other shoe to drop. Mrs. Ryan has seen this before as the cycle of resistance, rebellion and feigned cooperation repeated itself numerous times in the past three years. She was battle worn growing tired of the never ending war that raged between them. She wore pastel blue sweats while leaning against the kitchen sink slowly sipping her coffee considering her daughter. “Where do we go from here?” Without waiting for an answer she approached the table sitting quietly.
I slowly pushed a few sheets of paper along the table toward mother. “Will you sign these permission slips?”
Gretchen blinked as she scanned the forms, “excuse me you want to join the Outing Club and the Track team?”
Nodding, I narrowed my eyes, “I have not got anything else to do besides doing this I get excused from gym. I never went to gym anyway.”
Gretchen slowly nods her assent eyes searching my countenance trying to sense the my sincerity wondering if this is just another ploy. “Ok”, she pauses. “I want a school schedule of when and where for each event, including practice times.”
I smile receiving the signed forms thinking, ‘wow this girl has really burned her bridges the stench of distrust is over powering.’ “As soon as I get one from the school. You know I love hiking and as for track I like running. You never stop telling me, I should get involved in school.”
Gretchen agreed still not sold on this new Sarah.
The phone rang Gretchen intercepted it to hear grandmother’s voice. “It’s Grams for you,” mother said.
“Hi Gram how are you,” I asked cautiously. The soft but stern reply came, “did you hear about Mark and Walter.” I thought about this pausing before answering. “I, don’t know what you are talking about. What happened?”
Eleanor Parks, Sarah’s maternal grandmother drew herself up to her full five and a half feet. She exhaled slowly before answering.
“They were killed in a gun fight with drug dealers from the city.” She adds with a hint of irony, “about the time you were eating your hot dogs.”
I blinked pressing the phone close to my ear. ‘I came that close huh?’ I wanted to say good but thought the better of it. I considered inwardly ‘this is serious shit the Voice was not lying.’
Grams replied agreeing ending with “yes it is serious, just who is the Voice?”
I blinked, “the Voice? Oh that, just an inner feeling I get. It told me or should I say warned me.”
My eyes were wide not because of the information Grams imparted but as to how close I came to real trouble. I did not dare think.
Grams said, “let me talk to your mother.”
I gladly handed off the phone. “Mom can I use Dad’s word processor and printer to do my homework?”
Gretchen covered the phone nodding her assent.
Still shaking I enter father’s office walking toward the word processor and flop into the chair. I open my PDA nearly screaming in my head at the Voice, "are you there?”
Within seconds, “yes Sarah.”
Somewhat wired I begin, “excuse me but how come you never warned me about Grams? She can read my thoughts!” I repeated to the Voice how Grams heard my unspoken thoughts during our phone conversation.
“Calm down Sarah. She can only do that when you use the PDA or the phone.” The voice relayed trying to defuse my obvious angst.
“That makes me feel a whole lot better. Just wear a tin foil hat when talking to Grams on the phone. I feel much better now.” I pause realizing just how stupid that sounded.
“Sarah that won’t work. I suspect you know that.” Then the voice laughs, “I’d like to see you wearing one. I suggest don’t use the phone.”
I consider his suggestion for a moment. “You are telling a teenage girl to avoid the phone. Are you serious? Girl power rule number one is never, ever venture too far from a phone. How many other people do I have to worry about? This is not exactly a fair game here.”
With an exaggerated exhale the voice admits, “no one else at least yet. Your grandmother is the only one you should encounter with the ability. As I told you before discovery of information is part of the challenge.”
I close with, “thanks.”
It took an hour for me to complete and print out my homework. During that time I did talk to Claire on the phone. It was mostly a bonding and gathering of information about students conversation. I learned which ones were ok and those to avoid according to Claire. I tried to focus the conversation toward new students.
“Uh Claire, how many new seniors transferred in this year? I hear there were four.”
After a thoughtful pause, the answer came. “Let’s see, you, a girl named Erin and two guys. Let me think a moment, there is a hunk football player. Jake Gibbons is his name and the other guy looks like a geek.” She stops to gather her thoughts then continues. “Hal Cowles is his name.”
I respond, “a geek! You mean like a pocket protector and high water pants with suspenders?”
After a period of loud laughing Claire said, “you are funny. No silly he wears the same uniform as everybody else. He is cute about six foot but acts like a geek. You know confident, quiet, no obvious friends, like that. He seems to keep to himself.”
I emit a loud sigh, “oh I like did something radical.”
Claire wows “What was that!”
I whisper into the phone, “joined the outing club and thinking about going out for track.”
Claire processes this information responding, “at least you will meet Hal. He is in the outing club.”
I hear the outside door close. “Gotta go, dad’s home.”
I open my PDA searching for the Gibbons and Cowles families. 'Strange how this thing works when there is no internet.’ “What no comment Voice?” There is no response. Once finding the addresses I consider just where they are in relationship to my house and the school. ‘Interesting, you cannot see Giant Mountain from the Gibbons house. But’, my eyes widen, ‘from Hal’s you can. The door opens.
“Can you come into the kitchen Mom and I want to talk to you for a minute?” Dad says appearing relaxed and not too parental.
I stand nodding cautiously mouthing Ok. As I follow my thought race, ‘frak! Another family meeting just what I need. Upon entering the kitchen I hear myself humming the words, “maybe I hang around here a little more than I should.” I suddenly giggle. When the thought strikes me ‘God, I wish I had that voice. What do you think can this little witch conjure that up? As Bob, I remembered melting every time I heard that song.’ As Sarah, I don't wait for any cues. I go straight to the coffee pot. Then sit at the table with blue eyes tracing the caramel colored swirls as the liquid seeks its level in the cup cradled in both hands.
Dad begins carefully searching for words “the phone bill came.”
“Yes sooooooo.” I answer dragging out the word. "Doesn't this happen every month?"
In a resolute voice dad inquires “do you know anything about this call to Pittsburgh?” He pushes the bill along the table toward me. I set down the cup eyeing the paper cautiously.
My fingers trace to the offending line. “Oh that,” I offer while nodding. “KDKA radio station. I called the talk show to find out where to buy a Pirate hat. It is not like you can get one up here. You work for the phone company long distance is free.” I sit back thinking, 'point for me'.
Needing to establish authority dad announces, “that is not the point. You are to ask before making long distance phone calls.”
I offer another shrug dismissively. “You will see another on the next bill. Ben’s Sporting Goods did not have a toll free number.” I blink sheepishly while adding for affect, my little girl pout. “I ordered a hat.” I always knew dads were easy. When hit with that innocent pout.
Mom tries to stifle a laugh almost spraying her coffee. I remain silent maintaining my innocent gaze. Dad appears somewhat relaxed but must establish authority. “the next time you ask before calling long distance." What did the hat cost you?”
I stall at first admitting, “twenty bucks.”
It suddenly struck me ’that is 2011 prices. You were had girl. In 1979 we are talking five bucks.’ I retreat trying to become small in my chair.
Dad almost chokes, “twenty bucks what is it gold!”
A sheepish smile, “it is the official team hat with next day UPS shipping included. No tax.” I add as an aside.
Dad can only say, did you get your homework done?”
“It is on your desk.” I quickly answer adding, “what about my grounding is it over yet?”
My thought is ‘I bet they thought that was a drug deal.’
A resolute voice from mother replies, “that is what we wanted to talk about. I will let your father explain.”
Mr. Ryan takes a long draught from his cup firmly setting it down on the table before beginning to illustrate his ideas. “Sarah your grounding is over. You have done very well since the hot dog incident.”
“Great” I interrupt, “so I can go out.”
“Not exactly young lady there are some new rules. We decided not to establish a curfew.”
I frown while mother adopts her deer in the head lights expression.
“No curfew are you serious?” I eep out with astonished eyes. ‘This cannot be true,’ I think.
Dad interjects, “this what we are going to do. There will be no going out on school nights.”
“What!” I find myself yelling.
“Except when you have a specific event or need. If it is school related or going to the library, whatever, we bring you to and then back home. There will be no dating. On the weekends you can stay out until ten on Friday and Saturday and 8 on Sunday. Again specific places with supervision verified by either your mother or me. There is no acceptable reason you or any girl to be wandering about town during the school nights. And no dating”
The bombshell dropped. I know outrage is required so I argued “I am almost eighteen.”
Dad responds, “when you are eighteen we will discuss change. That is not until summer. These are the rules dictated by past behavior. I agree you have been very good but you know trust is hard to win back.”
I sit back considering this with mixed feelings. The teenager in my Sarah persona is outraged. Seventy year old Bob saying, good plan.
“Can I go now?” I asked presenting an unreadable expression.
Both parents nod and I walk upstairs. Halfway up the stairs I hear dad say, “She spent twenty bucks for a baseball cap?” This is followed by a giggle from mother.
Martin Ryan sips his coffee considering the just ended exchange as he watches Gretchen cook the dinner hamburgers. “What do you think Gretchen? I admit the girl has me confused I expected a blow up but none came.”
Gretchen turns, hands on her hips tossing her head from side to side. Her eyes grow wide in a mused expression, betraying her confusion. “I, don’t know it is almost like the quiet before the storm. Part of me thinks all our hard work is finally showing fruit. The other part of me says this girl is not Sarah.”
Martin moves closer to his wife nodding. “I know you should have seen her on the mountain she was full of energy. She loved every minute of it. No matter how good you are you can’t fake that. Why don’t you call your mother and ask her what she thinks happened?”
Gretchen places the burgers on the table as there is a knock on the door. “Will you get that Martin? I did talk to mother I will tell you her thoughts when you come back.”
Martin returns with a small package for Sarah dropping it at her usual place on the table. “It looks like her hat is here it says Ben’s Sporting goods. So what did your mother say?”
Gretchen rushes her answer as she can hear Sarah exiting her room. The girl could always smell food, especially if it was burgers with golden brown fries. “Mom said, don’t worry whatever happened to Sarah it was for the better. Just keep a tight reign she has already told us she needs one.”
I sat on my bed legs crossed ignoring my PDA. I did not want to talk with Mr. Voice. The confrontation in the kitchen got me to thinking. There was no way mom and dad could enforce their draconian rules. At my age I could walk and they could not stop me. The real Sarah knew that as did I. What those rules achieve makes my job easier. Yes old Bob will go along with it dragging Sarah along kicking and screaming. I have to find a way to present a reasonable resistance.
I heard the delivery guy so I bounced downstairs. When I arrived in the kitchen I quickly noticed the package opening it at once. There is a note inside the hat printed on an index card. It says, dear Ms. Ryan this is the collectors series personally autographed by one of the Pirates on the inside head band. The signature is coated with a clear poly enamel to protect it from body oils. As you did not specify we sent the Willie Stargell personally signed model.
My eyes open wide as I exclaim, “it is signed by Pops!”
Mother frowns while father examines the hat with a smile. He says, “that explains the price.” I quietly eat my dinner wearing the black cap with the gold P.
At the end of the meal I clear the table singing softly, “we both know I’ve got somewhere else to go.” Still singing I rinse placing plates in the dishwasher. “Not enough to run the machine, tomorrow maybe?” Then I rush out of the kitchen to answer the ringing phone.
Martin looks at Gretchen “what was that all about?”
Gretchen shrugs, “she did that yesterday too.”
Martin shakes his head, “no I meant the singing did you hear her singing voice?”
Gretchen smiles, “she did that yesterday as well she sounds amazing.”
The woman pours another cup of coffee sitting down next to her husband. “What is going on?”
Martin shrugs, “I, don’t know but your mother has seen it too. She says don’t worry. I often wondered about that woman.”
Gretchen replies, “don’t go there.”
While holding the phone I walk into the kitchen, “mom can I ask Claire to come over Friday after school? We can hang out and have pizza for dinner.”
Gretchen looks up, “who is Claire?”
“A friend from school, Claire Wilson, she does not live too far from here.”
Martin looks to his wife who nods her assent.
Gretchen takes the phone. “Let me talk to Mrs. Wilson.”
The two women talk for a few minutes making arrangements agreeing to have Claire ride home with Sarah and Mrs. Wilson will pick her daughter up at ten pm.
I walk back into the living room with the phone because some parts of this conversation are private.
I said to Claire “your mom is just like mine.”
“No shit” answers Claire, “they have to know everything all the time. I am glad you are in the same boat, misery likes company.”
While laughing I ask, “Point out that Cowles kid to me tomorrow will you?”
Claire agrees laughing “the blonde is on the prowl huh?”
Gritting my teeth in a defensive posture I minimize. “Only my curiosity I have not seen a pocket protector in years that’s all. They, won’t even let me date for God sake. Seventeen and I can't date, how provincial.”
Claire with a smiling voice, “me too, two virgin ice princesses locked in the tower. Like I said at least I have company. We could rebel though.”
Sarah laughs, “tried that and I wound up at preppy tech with the promise the next stop was the convent.”
Claire ends with a laugh saying, “later.” I say goodnight in my cryptic girl code, “later” and hang up.
Out of boredom I turn on the TV to channel surf stopping momentarily at a news channel to hear the guy say, “SaraLee has announced a two for one stock split. Excitement erupts with a loud “Cool!”
Mom and dad run into the room “what was that all about?” mom asks.
Dad smiles “since when did you start caring about stock splits?”
I, shrug “since I assimilated I, guess.” Both parents standing there with puzzled expressions as I ascend the stairs mumbling, “resistance is futile.”
I fire up my PDA with the intention of listening to the ball game when I am interrupted by the Voice. “It is about time where have you been?”
After a blink, I repeat his words. “Huh where have I been! I have been busting my hump on your project. School, grams, making friends and placating my parents. I thought in my spare time I’d run for the Senate.” There is a long pause before any response is heard.
“Don’t you think you might be over playing your hand?”
Incredulously, I respond “what? My goal is to be reunited with Megan. To do that, I have to straighten out this girl’s life. In case you had not noticed she is alive today because of me. Do you get it, it is because of my actions. You don’t tell me the rules of this game you let me spin around groping in the dark. What is your problem?”
The Voice comes back with “settle down. I just think you need to create some conflict you are making this too easy for them. Sneak out raise some cane.”
This caused me to raise my ire. “If you had not noticed, dad removed the trellis. You think I am dealing with pushovers here? Grams is a witch she can hear me just like you. Hey Jack if this is so easy how come your team screwed it up?” My slow burn is simmering when the Voice came back yet again.
“You are taking this all wrong. I just thought you were not causing enough doubt in their minds.”
I bite my sore lip again. 'I have to stop doing that.' “what do you want? You want me to go out and cause some trouble? Why do I get the feeling you are setting me up?”
I am about to break the connection when the Voice says. “ok, ok you do it your way.”
“I will ask you again what is it you want regarding a result?”
The voice murmurs a bit not answering. Determined I again push, “look you may have a seventeen year old girl here in body. You are dealing with a PHD who has been around the block a few times. What do you expect? What result do you require for you to do as promised? Remember what you said? Megs and I to be reunited in young adult bodies and be together. Or did you forget that?”
The voice finally answers, “get the girl thorough high school and repair the relationship with her parents.”
I as Sarah consider this, “and the real Sarah what about her?”
The voice hesitates “um she will get her body back if she carries out her duties.”
I emit a doubtful expression, “ok Voice I’m doing my part.” Then break the connection.
With the ball game playing in the back ground I sat on my bed legs crossed and dangling. My thoughts are troubled more so than any time since I encountered this oddball situation. ‘I have this nagging feeling I am being set up. This guy actually tried to get me to what set fire to the A&P? Or knock off the bank, perhaps buy some joints or get laid in city park?’ The problem with this situation is that Bob or Sarah, whoever, the hell, I am is beginning to suffer from the Stockholm syndrome. I stare blankly at the mint green pastel bed room wall evaluating my situation. ‘Not too long ago I was a happy old man troubled by my wife’s health.
Not once did I ever day dream about being female or what it would be like. Never ever gazed at a male with any sexual desire. The very idea of that would make my skin crawl.’ Bob grins looking down at his legs marveling on how desirable they looked. He laughed ‘and I never tried on my sister’s clothes. Here I am downloaded into a young girl. Even worse she is drop dead gorgeous. If that is not bad enough I have discovered what an experience a period is. What is even worse I understand what prey I have become just walking through school wearing a skirt.’ The ballgame was winding down when I shut it off satisfied my side won. ‘Worse yet I honestly like Sarah, perhaps more than she did herself. To a certain extent I envy her. Her dad is cool and mom is a tiger who would die for me.’
I walk over to the mirror gazes into it, smile and think, ‘die for me did I say that?’ The room fills with a sound, “maybe I hang around here a little more than I should.” It sounded more like Olivia than Sarah. As I drifted off to sleep my last thought was ‘I have to protect this girl.’
Bob and Megan, a married couple in their final years retired for the night. Just before drifting off to sleep Bob made an off hand comment to which Megan agreed with a slight twist. They did not know something was listening and granted their wish. How will this challenge work out when they hardly know the rules of the game?
Sept 20, 2011
Newly edited through the unforgiving seventh grade English teacher. There are a few minor changes but nothing to alter the story. You will notice a change from first person narrative to third person in some scenes. This is intentional. The primary focus is from Bob/Sarah's point of view. I shifted to third person when Bob/Sarah was not involved in the scene and for areas where scene setting is involved. With that in mind it should lessen any confusion. I trust this helps convince you there is a method for the writers madness and it is not a lack of skill. This decision may be a failure but I did it on purpose.
Rights reserved by the author with permission to host granted exclusively to Big Closet.
One week before Labor Day two days prior to Bob waking as Sarah a similar event was unfolding not too far away. Hal Cowles lay in a coma in the regional community hospital hooked up to life support machines. Mr. and Mrs. Cowles sat in the living room of their Victorian home a mile outside of town discussing the decision they are wishing they did not have to make. The doctors had advised there was nothing more that could be done. The chemicals inhaled had done severe damage and there appeared to be no brain activity. There had been an accident with a chemical truck that caused a spill on interstate 87. Hal was driving home when his car became bathed by the spraying chemicals from an overturned truck. He simply drove around it barely noticing the emergency vehicles present. By the time he reached his exit he had grown dizzy pulled to the side of the road and passed out. Mrs. Cowles in a tearful voice pleaded with her husband to give it more time. He, being a realist had determined that tomorrow they pull the plug letting him go. The plea that Hal had only been asleep for two days did not seem to sway. If one were to accept the medical data and the flat line on the monitor, one would be accepting the literal truth.
There was a steady red line at the bottom of the monitor providing a morbid signal that did not bode well. Dr. Seaman half closed her eyes recognizing the stark realty closed the door and walked to the Doctor’s lounge. She spoke in hushed tones to Dr. Randle who agreed to the only real choice remaining to them.
“Did you speak with the Parents Rene?” Asked Dr. Randle.
“Yes, they agreed to terminate life support in the morning. They should be here around ten. The puzzling issue is there are no outward signs of trauma. No physical damage to the exterior and the test show the chemical cocktail went right to the brain.”
Dr. Seaman’s measured response had illustrated her frustration, as she spoke with her colleague. She continued by saying “what is odd is the levels of the most recent blood test reveal almost no trace.” She pauses, “as if they were never there.”
Dr. Randle nodded considering, “and the response by CDC was even stranger. They sent some military type who at once wanted all our test results. We still have no answers.”
Dr. Seaman agrees. “It is good they did not ask if I made back ups to the files. I’d hate to have to lie to them,” she giggled. "It sounds to me like this is some kind of weapon. Well, I am going home to catch some zzz’s”.
Randle agreed. “The staff will alert us if anything changes. I hate this part of the job. I will leave instructions for another blood test on my way out. I am curious and expect the levels to drop even more.”
In the private room the silence was broken by a frequent steady low beeping as the line never wavering traced along the bottom of the monitor. A nurse entered not worrying about being quiet, after all it is not like she is going to wake the patient. She draws a vile of blood not noticing a slight rise in the monitor line. To be fair to the nurse after all it is barely perceptible. She is focused solely on her two days off after completing this task. There was no brain activity in Hal’s body as the Voice quietly downloaded the essence of Megan into the host. He knew that awareness was but moments away and could not use the PDA to communicate with Megan. He had no need to use electronic devices in this state he could speak with her directly.
Megan stirred slowly as her dream recalled the wise ass quip to Bob just before drifting off to sleep. “Yes if that is what it takes.” Bob had said. She smiled thinking of Bob in a maternity dress groaning about various aches and pains. She chuckled in her dream recalling how much she loved the man. The one who shared the last fifty years with her. She thought ‘he really does love me.’ The darkness of her dream suddenly lightened and she saw a meadow with a quiet stream, a picnic basket and a young girl, a late teen perhaps. The girl spoke lovingly as she held out her hand showing an engagement ring. “Yes Hal, I will marry you.” Then a voice entered her head whispering “Megan, Megan.” She answers cautiously, “yes?”
“The Boss heard your conversation with Bob and decided to grant you a gift.” The voice says to her.
Megan more alert, “a gift, what gift?”
The voice carefully says “a new life for you and Bob where you can begin anew. One filled with love and happiness but you must do something first.” Megan doubtful with a bit of suspicion listened ever more convinced this was a dream. But unlike other restless nights she did not feel any pain, not even the slightest discomfort. The voice went on to explain Megan was downloaded into the body of seventeen year old Hal Cowles. He told her the same story he will relate to Bob two days from now. Once they complete their tasks they will be downloaded into new youthful bodies of their choice and be together. He stressed they will not be allowed to reveal to each other who they are. They will be allowed once a month contact using the PDA she will find under her pillow when she arrives home.
Megan lay there absorbing this information as the soft voice reveals this tale to her. She is doubtful as she questions. "You say Bob is a girl and that I am this Hal fellow, a guy! What is the purpose of that what have I got to do and is this a joke?” She takes a deep breath expecting to wake up any moment. ‘Wait until I tell Bob about this dream. We will both have a laugh over it.’ she thinks.
The voice tells her that she has to do almost nothing other than take Hal’s place and wait until her husband completes his task. “It could take to the end of the school year” the voice instructs her. He also warns that she must keep Hal on the straight and narrow.
Megan, not convinced questions, “why not just leave me where I am if all I have to do is wait?”
The Voice tells her, “with Bob vacating his body he will have died in your time. You would be very distraught being home by yourself in even greater pain. In this way you get to share the adventure.”
Still unconvinced Megan listens. “You are soul mates, you and Bob. Soul mates find each other. You will be reunited” the Voice assures her. “Rest, we will speak later.”
Megan drifts off to sleep leaving the meadow, leaving the dream. She is silent resting comfortably in her darkness.
The voice like all low level bureaucrats hated those days he was required to file in person reports in the Supervisor’s office. The voice is of course a code name issued by the committee because as with all bureaucratic organizations they cringe at all forms of individualism. The voice’s name was actually Brent.
He earned his way into the higher plane of existence achieved by those who finally got a life correct. For many they are required to go back and do it over again or as with some who are defective banished to the underworld. Brent had his foot in the door of this higher plain. But still had to work his way into the land of milk and honey. Here he was explaining to his boss progress and actions he had taken in case number G48567. The Voice was in charge of special projects that the Boss believed were vital to the world below. The voice knew from experience these meetings could get quite hostile.
The supervisor speaks first. “How do you see case number G48567 advancing, are we achieving our goals?” The voice leans forward to answer as his supervisor shuffles papers from a manila folder. “Sir,” he began, “Sarah is advancing making good progress but her player, may I use the term player, is rather resistant to suggestion.” The supervisor pushes a form sheet forward, “as I understand it you downloaded Robert Owens and his wife Megan Owens into the hosts for the specific purpose of advancing the project. Why did you make the choice you made?” The Voice blinks at the question thinking it was rather easy. “Well sir as you are aware both Mr. and Mrs. Owens had achieved a high enough status to gain entry into this higher plane. It is clear based on their behavior this was their final go round. It was obvious they are quite capable to right this situation.”
The Supervisor took a deep breath emitting a frown. “The Boss is unhappy about your actions upon initiation of this plan. Do you care to expand on why you reversed them downloading Bob into Sarah and Megan into Hal?” He leans back waiting to hear the rational. The Voice suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “It was to add to the challenge. You are giving these two an opportunity not often afforded to people. Subjects are almost never given a free ride life. They will be given a fairly easy life as reward for doing us a service. A little extra challenge just adds to the game.” The Supervisor leans back into his chair rubbing his chin then exhales a slow exaggerated breath. “As I understand it you promised Mr. and Mrs. Owens upon success they would be given the bodies of their choice and placed where they wished to be.” The Voice nods his assent. “Did you study the principles of downloads and the inherent dangers?” The supervisor waits to discern the answer. It took awhile as the Voice hesitated perhaps realizing for the first time something he overlooked. “Uh sir it is just a theory and well uh I doubt it will be a problem.” The Supervisor stands shouting “You doubt! Fool” Without waiting for a response the Supervisor throws a blue folder at the voice then sits back down. “Page five read what I underlined.”
Sweating, the Voice thumbs to the page stammering, “underlined? Uh it says about downloads there is an issue with second and third downloads causing damage to the person downloaded and possibly harm the host. Fifty percent of all second downloads fail and nearly all third downloads fail.” His eyes grow wide, “but it is not proven.” The Supervisor looks shocked, “not proven! He wrote it. He is never wrong! He created the universe and you think it is not proven.” The Voice suddenly shakes and his eyes appear to open wide as his action becomes obvious to him. The supervisor says “we should review what we know. You download them into the host bodies consider that download number one which is harmless to humans and the host.
You promise them a second download which contains risk making it problematic. You know full well they should have been informed a second download presents grave risk. The intent was to give them the option to remain as they are if the host personalities could not be retrained. We both know the original Sarah has problems. Because you added a challenge to people who never gave a hint of preferring to be of the other sex the choice of remaining as is presents multiple problems. The Boss does not repay faithful service by placing people into potentially psychological threatening circumstances. Now you place the agency in a precarious situation. Because you promised a second download, the Boss must honor it. If the second download fails, they will be destroyed. If their host perishes as well, the whole project is a failure.” Listening to this the Voice becomes quite concerned. Not about his action but what the boss will do to him.
Not quite done the Supervisor continues. “New arrivals have to earn their way to the grand reward before going to the paradise area. Because of your action, they go directly to Paradise and the Boss will not like it. This is one way that Mr. and Mrs. Owens can earn their way directly to Paradise. What about the original Sarah and Hal, What do we do with them? If their bodies are destroyed, with a second download we have no place for them and the whole plan blows up. Wasn’t it the point to have the original Sarah and Hal continue because of the contribution to the world their grand children make? Then we would award the faithful who rescued this situation. That was the whole point and you wanted to add a challenge! You were to tell Bob and Megan there were risk. We could likely move them again but to reverse their sex twice causes additional danger.”
The Voice stands, “will that be all Sir?” “Sit” barks the Supervisor. “You better help the girl navigate through this. No games, she is essential. As for Hal his task is easier but still extremely important. The fates decided these two were destined to be together and when the snafu occurred the plan fell apart. We were fortunate to have two soul mates who could take their place. Until you tinkered with it, that is. If the original bodies are vaporized because of your promise of an extra sexual change just how do we replace those two bodies? Do you think replacements suddenly appearing after everybody knows they died will go unnoticed? I know some parents may not notice their kids dying but these parents will. These parents were classified as A3’s. Think about the problem you caused.”
“Sir they will insist on new bodies they were promised. What about the real Sarah and Hal, how were you going to bring them back?” The nervous voice asks. The supervisor shakes his head “the rules of downloads do not apply when you return an essence to its original body. The danger is to the replacements. That is why Bob was supposed to take over for Hal and Megan for Sarah. It avoided an unnecessary shift of sex that requires an extra download and there was nothing in there about sex changes. You missed that on your assignment instructions.”
The Voice says sheepishly “but their conversation before going to sleep was she did not want to have kids and Bob said he would do that for her. So I thought this would be a good twist.” The supervisor glances to the ceiling, “OH! may the Boss help us.”
A loud voice, sounding like James Earl Jones replies from above. “What is it what do you need?”
“Nothing, it’s ok your reverence,” the supervisor replies while glaring at the Voice. “Voice?” he asks, “have you ever been married, in any of your lives?” “Uh yes,” answers the Voice. “Then you should know when a tired wife in pain says she loves you and would be thrilled to live another lifetime with you but you have the kids. Any husband will agree to that because he knows the trouble he will be in if he says Hell No!” James Earl Jones is suddenly heard. “I, don’t allow that kind of talk.” Both men suddenly tremble.
“Now then Voice you convince our new Sarah, she likes being Sarah and wants to stay that way. Remember it is a long ride down to the Underworld. Oh and don’t you dare frame it in terms like, Bob you really want to be a girl don’t you? You really like skirts now that you tried them don’t you? Leave my office and pray you did not cause irreparable damage. You could be sent out for this.” The Voice stands to leave with his supervisor screaming, “Out!”
After the voice exits, clearly shaken the Boss appears in the Supervisor’s office. “That did not go well. I take it things are dissolving?”
The supervisor clears his throat not that there is any sickness here. It was nothing more than a learned reflex. “Well Sir as you know the real Sarah was sent to this level. The intention was to reeducate. Hopefully send her back when your agent straightened things out. The girl was impossible she created all kinds of problems and unfortunately was bound.”
“Bound” the Boss repeats what he heard.
The Supervisor points to a statue of a girl in the corner. She appears pensive with her head bowed while contemplating flowers that adorn her naked feet. “That’s she” said the Supervisor, “she is shut down completely, waiting your decision. We had hoped she could be sent back when Mr. Owens cleans things up. But her attitude is beyond repair. I am sorry to say it looks like the Underworld. We will be sending her soon.”
The Boss shakes his head, “that is rather harsh isn’t it. She is a child after all. You are aware the vampires and warlocks are in a full blown war down there? This kid has no idea what being a Goth is all about. I should have blown up Hollywood years ago. They will eat her up if we banish her.”
The Supervisor shakes his head. “we, can’t send her back to Earth. Her parents were A3’s weren’t they?”
The Boss nods his agreement “yes of the highest level.”
The Supervisor questions the Boss. “If A3’s can’t control her who on Earth can?”
The Boss considers before suggesting “you are right but we still must work to correct this problem. Bob/Sarah was elevated to A3 status and we owe her/him. I don’t ever double cross my children. Let me think about that for a minute.” As he stares out the window hands clasped behind his back the Boss ask, “what about the original Hal?”
The Supervisor reported “Hal is presently working for the bureau. He, of course is assigned elsewhere.
The reason he is here is because his body is on life support. We expected to send him back once the issue is resolved. But now that the Voice mishandled this I just don’t know.”
The Boss’s anger appears to rise when he calms himself he plans aloud. “Did you tell the original Hal any of this? He is an A2 you know that.”
The Supervisor explains, “no he thinks he simply died.” “Ok,” the Boss begins. Here is what I want you do. I maintain my belief or hope,” he, stutters. “That the originals can be returned and the Owens can be given their promised reward. I have my doubts. We may have to go to the back up plan.”
The Supervisor blinks, “backup plan?” “
Of course,” states the Boss. “I always have a backup plan. “It requires changing the Fate book. Who was that black haired teenage girl Hal’s age that we mistook for his soul mate?”
The Supervisor thinks a moment. “Katy Winslow, she is an A2 as well. She lives in a trailer park in Appalachia.”
The Boss shakes his head, “an A2 in a trailer park. How did that happen?”
“It was a snafu.” They both respond, “the Voice again?”
“I am getting pretty frustrated with this Voice fellow, how about a downgrade to Q Minus?”
The Supervisor’s eyes widen, “that is harsh.’
The Boss asks “again tell me where our replacements are in this?”
He receives his answer. “Our replacements appear to be doing excellent. I believe they will be successful.
We created another problem. What happens when they learn the truth?
The Boss nods ever calm answers. “I have faith it will all work out. We will review the Voice when this is done. I want you to bring Hal in and give him a full explanation. You then unite him with Katy back on Earth. Give both and upgrade to A3. If we cannot work this mess out, I will adjust the fates. The procreation line shift to Hal and Katy. I want you to unbound Sarah over there” he points to the statue. “You did not do a full binding wiping Sarah’s identity?
The Supervisor shakes his head, “on no sir only you are allowed to do that.”
The Boss smiles, “Very good contact El’Gronde on Vulcan have him straighten out the girl. If he fails, then we need something even more drastic.”
The Supervisor quips, “Vulcan is strict very conservative and controlling. And the constant playing of Ravel‘s Bolero is annoying. I, can‘t spend much time on that planet.”
The Boss smiles, “I believe our Goth over there will love those elfin ears though she may not like the music.” In a puff he vanishes.
The supervisor breathes a sigh of relief, “good thing the Boss has faith. It would not do to have him doubt himself.”
The Boss stands alone looking out over his universe expanding endlessly across space. He thinks, ‘mistakes, free will I should never have done that. The cause of all kinds of problem and Earth is the worst. At least the Vulcans respect order.’ The most controversial order was when the Boss designed the ranking system with A3 being the highest. Up to that point people upon termination either were welcomed into the Boss’s realm or banished into the Underworld. Due to the amount of citizens and the possibility of crowding, the Boss needed to set limits. He determined to reward people for their lifetime behavior creating a scale. Failure to reach the top two levels they were sent back to live another life until they got it right. Upon a person’s demise the agency would review then explain what rating a person had and send them back if they were below A2. A2’s were allowed to work for the Agency earning their way into Paradise. The A3’s went directly to the promised land. In some cases the Boss was forced to use Binding to wipe the slate clean. A radical washing of all memories forced a new start. After all this time, he was still ever hopeful of redemption. There were those who were considered not redeemable and banished to the Underworld. It was also established that citizens in Paradise were given some conflict because experience proved that without conflict and challenges his people grew bored. Especially after thousands of years without challenges. Some even petitioned to be sent back to Human life. It is issues like this current one that cost the Boss restless nights. He was frustrated with the Voice and considered what he should do about his trainee.
At nine AM Dr Seaman studied the latest test results from Hal Cowles’ blood sample. She starred uncertain as to how she should regard this. Speaking with Dr. Randle by phone she relayed the data Randle was equally shocked. “What do you mean there is no trace of chemicals and all levels are normal that is impossible?”
In a resolute voice he commanded, “run the test again and call me with the new results. When does the family arrive?”
She answered, “in about an hour.” “I will try to stall them by going over what we know to allow time for the results to come. But Dr. Randle I’m not going to give them false hope. It does not change the boy’s condition. It just raises a lot of questions.” She hangs up and goes to the nurses station to write the order.
The monitor continued the slow rhythmic beeping as Hal Cowles began to stir from his deep sleep. His mind reeled from his strange journey into a world of darkness. He could remember the Voice and the last words Bob had said to her, “dear if that is what it would take to spend another lifetime with you, sure no problem.”
Hal shook his head but there was no one in the room to see but he could hear the Voice. His thoughts grew confused, “Hal?” The question appeared to come from inside his head. “I am Meg where is Bob?” he answered. ‘This silly dream refuses to end,’ Meg tried to speak but nothing would come out as she heard the Voice. “Do you remember what we talked about?" The voice knew that a frightened Megan would cause problems if she gained consciousness in that state. He had to be certain she understood before presenting to the world she was about to join.
Megan slowed her accelerated rate. The beeping began to fade. “What is that noise?” Megan asked.
The Voice assured her. “It is just the monitors. The doctors will be in soon. Is Hal ready to face this world? Soon you will have contact with your Bob.”
Megan’s breathing steadied as she murmured her assent. The only choice she had was to play along so she could wake up from this dream. The woman did not believe a word of this hallucination. “Yes, she answers I am Hal Cowles just waking up from a coma. I have to pretend to be Hal until Bob completes his task. Why did you not give me any of Hal’s memories? They will think I am daft if I, don’t know anything about myself.”
The Voice sighs, just like her husband always asking questions. “It is part of the test. You will be given the information as you need it. Don’t forget to find the PDA under your pillow at home. We can talk further there. Oh, and one other thing, this is 1979 PDAs have not been invented yet so keep it out of sight.” The voice fades.
Hal considers, ’1979 I can’t wait to wake up from this dream. The further it goes the nuttier it gets.’ Just then the door opens followed by a nurse carrying a tray stepping inside. She closes the door and smiles. Hal watches thinking, ’she is cute. Wait a minute did I just say that? That is so wrong. Bob where are you?’
“You are awake,” a chirpy voice says to Hal. “I need to take a blood sample, some test I think.” The nurse looks at the chart, “Hal Cowles, and how are we today?”
Hal blinks, trying to get his bearings. “Fine,’ his eyes roll noting all the various things plugged into him and the monitor machine. “I just came in for an oil change nothing unusual. How long have I been here and where is the doctor?”
The nurse smiles then emit’s a blank expression. “Today is my first day, the chart indicates a couple days. This is the third to be exact.” After drawing the blood she winks whispering, “I am not supposed to tell you anything. Dr. Seaman is waiting to talk to your parents. After she reviews the test results, she will be in.” The nurse turns toward the door. Hal studies her backside as she leaves. He feels an unusual rise of something in his mid section.
Slowly with his free hand, the other being strapped down to a board with IV’s attached, his fingers regard the shocking object. Hal bolts upright eyes opening to their widest. “Holy shit!” He wonders if anyone heard that exclamation through the heavy door. To his consternation his fingers do not lessen their exploration. Feeling a bit warm Hal thinks. ‘So this is what Bob senses.’ Hal pulls his hand away lays back focusing upon the tile ceiling and he begins to count those 12 x 12 squares while considering further exploration.
Dr. Seaman waits in her office for the test results which for some reason appear to be taking an unusual amount of time. She looks at the round clock on the far wall, ‘10:05. ‘I suppose the parents and the lawyers are in the conference room already.’ She calls the lab to learn of an equipment failure placing everything on hold. “Send the results to the conference room stat!.” She then phones the nurses station inquiring if the Cowles have arrived. “Send them to the conference room the lawyers are waiting.” She hangs up feeling the pangs of regret knowing what the next hour will be like. CYA paper work to be signed, disclaimers and forced statements of sympathy from the lawyers and the zoned out expressions on the faces of distraught parents. Of course, a chaplain is present to mollify with platitudes. She enters the conference room with her rote polite greetings hating every minute of it as she gazes at the row of stern faces around the long table.
Bonnie and Dave Cowles slowly walked down the long sterile hall way toward the nurses station. It was a slow steady measured walk much like you would see in those prison movies. To them it was the same the execution of their son. Neither wanted to reach their destination. Mr. Cowles, a southern businessman who was transferred to this northern outpost by his company was filled with regrets. ‘If I only said no, we would not be here. Hal would not have been driving that road.’ He could not complete his regrets as nurse Debbie, the chirpy one intercepted the grieving parents. “Before you see your son, Doctor Seaman wants to meet with you in the conference room. The second door on the left I will bring you.” The parents turned silently to follow. Mrs. Cowles mouths a thank you. Her throat is dry and she did not wish for conversation.
Before they entered chirpy Debbie suddenly said, “I bet you are proud to have a son with a great sense of humor.” Both parents stopped walking starring at the nurse. Mrs. Cowles fights an inner rage wanting to begin with the B word but controlled herself. “What do you mean sense of humor?” She forces in a low dry voice. Chirpy Debbie beams as she says. “Hal isn’t it?” The parents nod. “He said the funniest thing to me a half hour ago. Told me, he just came in for an oil change.” “He spoke to you!” Mrs. Cowles exclaims. Nodding furiously chirpy Debbie “Yes, he sure did asked a lot of questions. “You did not tell the Doctor?” inquired Mr. Cowles. “Why?” asked the nurse “no one said anything about reporting to the doctor if he said anything.”
Not listening not caring what the nurse is saying both parents break out into a run toward Hal’s room. Chirpy Debbie’s voice is lost from behind, “but the conference room you have to see the doctor first.” Hal’s door flew open, Bonnie and Dave in shock frozen. Hal was sitting up in bed reading a magazine, Adirondack something or other. Hal glances from the magazine “Hi woke up awhile ago this place is boring.” Suddenly the monitor is beeping loudly as hugs and tears fill the room.
Two weeks later Hal Cowles sits in the school cafeteria eating lost in thought. Mike Davis across from him is chatting away about girls as he is prone to do. Hal does not hear a word his new friend is saying. He is reviewing all the information the voice imparted. How he is supposed to keep Hal out of trouble and remain as indiscrete as possible? Keep your nose clean, he was told. ‘Right Hal thought, keep my nose clean. That sounds like something my grandfather would have said.’ Talking or texting with Bob, two weeks ago. Hal thought he was clever passing along his general location by describing he could see the NO on Giant Mountain. Through the fifty years with Bob, she knew him like the back of her hand. Bob loved the mountains, the Pirates and was intelligent.
Hal thought, ‘I dropped some clues did he pick up on them? The voice is not clever’ Hal mused. ‘I know there are only three new seniors other than me. Only two, of them are girls. Erin and Sarah are both babes.’ Hal shrugs, ‘but there is no guarantee she is a senior.’ He glances over to the table where Sarah and Claire are sitting. Again he feels a stirring, ‘Bob, I am beginning to understand. I promise to cut you some slack when we become our new selves. You really can’t control this thing can you?’
A few days later Claire and Sarah are sitting at their usual lunch table at school. Claire had pointed out Hal sitting next to Mike Fenton mentioning Hal did not have a pocket protector. After laughing about that the girls listened intently to the boy’s conversation. Sarah whispered “they are talking about us.” Claire poked her friend “they are talking about you.”
Mike waves his hand in front of Hal’s face, “Earth to Cowles.”
“What!” returns a now alert Hal.
Mike points to the offending table. “You have been drooling for two weeks go talk to her.”
Hal blinks, “talk to who?”
Mike hits Hal’s elbow, the one holding the boy’s head up nearly causing him to pitch over. The girls notice and giggle. “Ryan you fool, Wilson is already claimed and her boy friend will beat you to a pulp. Didn’t she join the Outing Club?”
“I heard she had. There is a hike this week end,” Hal answers.
“That is your opening, start walking fool.” Mike pulls on Hal’s arm.
At the next table Sarah is thinking 'Claire and I are talking of course the topic is boys.'
Claire speaks softly, half teasing, half serious. “Sarah you have to get out of this funk. That guy is literally drooling.”
I glance up accidentally making eye contact with Hal quickly averting my gaze. In an instant I knew. ‘Meg!’ I wanted to shout. I almost burst out, but caught myself. Turning to Claire, I ask her, “that is the geek? He is no geek.”
Claire grins as she sees Hal approach the table. I stare into my lunch not looking up as my heart pounds. ‘I can feel it, keep cool, does he know? What is he going to say?’ To get an answer I am going to have to look up. I cannot hide under my plate.
“Hi”, a soft steady voice emits. “Hi”, replies Claire as Hal sits down. I tilt my head regarding Hal and mouth a silent hello.
Hal looks directly at Sarah. ‘I think I found her, go slow’. He engages Claire first. “You two ladies sit at this table every day.” ‘Clumsy’, he thinks. ‘This is not easy I sounded like an idiot. Get under control.’
Claire smiles, “Of course it is a ritual. The hot girls over there, the jocks very close to the hot girls, the geeks,” she catches herself. Turning suddenly she points in a direction away from Mike. “Over there,” she adds.
Hal laughs, “you have figured out the seating assignments. Aren’t they voluntary though don’t you have a choice?”
Claire shakes her head, “no it is predetermined you sit where you are supposed to. Free will is a myth.”
I laugh directing my statement toward Hal. “See what I have to put with day after day?”
Hal nods, Claire feigns outrage.
Meanwhile The Boss calls the supervisor into his office. The Supervisor sits cautiously expecting another dressing down. His eyes dart about the room nervously. The Boss turns on a monitor to view the scene at the lunch table. Without saying anything the Supervisor looks with astonishment. The Boss smiles “I told you. It took them how long to find each other?” The Supervisor blinks.
The Boss draws a breath. “It is only September nine months to go nine full months and they found each other. I thought Voice was not supposed to reveal enough information so they would remain apart.”
The Supervisor shakes his head “I instructed him. He apparently messed this up too. Should we bring Hal and Sarah up here and bind them?”
The Boss sits back “Voice did not do this. They are smarter than him. They figured it out that’s all.”
The supervisor relaxes “what do you want me to do?”
The Boss answers, “nothing for now let’s see where it goes. You can’t keep soul mates apart. The stronger ones always find a way.” The Boss laughs, “don’t let Voice know. See how long it takes for him to figure it out. Oh and don’t let him muck it up.”
The Supervisor gulps, “you don’t care if they get together?”
The Boss shakes his head. “It was the plan to reunite them. I over estimated how long it would take that’s all. They still have a program to complete. Sarah is still working toward completing it and Hal is doing as instructed. If they think they are putting one over on us, they will work harder to complete it. Hormones are one of my better innovations.”
Paul Miller sits forcing himself into a chair between Hal and Claire. “Hal isn’t it,” Paul asks as he leans to kiss Claire’s cheek to stake his claim. Claire leans into the kiss eyes flashing.
I avert my gaze sneaking a peek toward Hal.
Hal observes this male ritual of marking his territory thinking ‘this is amazing' as it unfolds. Miller here wants me to know with Claire it is hands off. When I was Meg I’d blush acting the girls part and feeling so important.’ Hal glances at Sarah while continuing his thought, ‘there she is feeling uncomfortable waiting for me to react. I have to think just the opposite to my life time learning’. Hal looks to Sarah with a bit more confidence. “Sarah then we have a date for Saturday?”
Paul suddenly turns his gaze reveals a bit of jealousy. He had actually been thinking this new girl may be better for him than Claire.
My eyes flash as I am startled by his question. ‘Did Hal just ask me out on a date?‘ I hesitate reacting in a cool manner. ‘I have to word this just right.‘ “I guess though as you know” I knew he did not know but Meg is quick she will pick up on it.’ “My parents don’t allow me to date. That’s why I joined the outing club for,” I hesitate for effect, “cover.”
Hal laughs, “so I thought. I will call you later.”
I nod as Hal walks back to Mike’s table.
The three who remain stand as the bell rings signaling the next class. Hal and Mike walk down the hall, “how did you do?” asks Mike. Hal grins, “I got a date.” Mike smiles, “good move.”
After doing my home work while mother fixed dinner, I called Grams. “Grams can we talk?”
Grams answered quizzically, “anytime dear anytime you want.”
“Not on the phone, can I come over Sunday?”
Grams quickly agreed. “Of course, you can my favorite grand daughter is always welcome.”
“Grams I am your only grand daughter,” I point out. “I have a lot of questions.”
“I know you do dear. I will see you on Sunday.”
I rushed into the kitchen where mother was working. “Mom grandma invited me over Sunday.
I told her sure it is ok isn’t it?”
Gretchen stopped what she was doing answering my question. “Yes, but what is it with your sudden relationship with your grandmother?”
I pour a cup of coffee before speaking. “I think she is cool.”
Mom laughs, “I never thought my mother was cool, strange yes, cool, no. I am glad you and mom are getting along. She is a terrific lady even if we disagree sometimes.”
I laugh, “that’s how I think of you. Funny how it works that way. With Dad it is different, he is just great.”
Before mom can react, I point to the cookie sheet “what’s that.”
Mom answers “salmon I am going to bake it for dinner.”
I stare at the fish, considering for a minute. “Show me how to do it?”
Mother stares at her me with an odd expression. Not odd in a bad way but odd as in astonished. “You want to learn how to cook?” The woman says slowly.
I, shrug “it is about time isn’t it? What I gather from hanging around here is if I wait for my husband to cook we will starve. Call it self defense mom.”
Gretchen stares gathering her composure fighting off a sudden urge to bust out in laughter. She simply points to the seasoning mix on the counter across from the sink. “Get that for me we start there.”
The phone rings, I quickly answer it. “Hi.” It is Hal and i quickly understands I can only return with my own, “hi.”
Hal begins to speak quickly unsure of himself. He is fairly certain who Sarah is but not positive, not assured. All the signs are there. The little signals seem to be the right ones. He cannot risk making a mistake. “What are you doing”, he asks.
I am almost certain Hal is Meg. I think he knows who I am. I can’t blow this. “I am listening the ball game.” I answer while fingering my Pirate hat. ‘A signal I am sending him a signal’, I think.
“what game the Yankees are on TV," Hal says.
My response comes quickly, “ The Yankees suck. I am listening to the Pirates and cubs. The Bucs are in first place with the Cardinals right on their heels.”
Hal laughs. “You are a Pirate fan?” He questions certain of the answer.
“Of course and we are going to the world series.” I answer with certainty.
Hal pauses for a moment thinking ‘in for a penny. I will throw out a test line. “Do you really think they will beat Baltimore?”
The question does not startle me as perhaps it should. I know they beat the Orioles. Meg knew that too. He could be a Baltimore fan and every fan believes their team will win the series. At least for awhile they do. Rather than a direct answer I question. “You are an Oriole fan?”
Unseen Hal shakes his head, “God no! Can’t stand them.”
“Then why say they are going to be in the series?” I fire back. “If you don’t like them why don’t you suppose the Yankees will be in the series? Everybody else does.”
With a voice of certainty Hal says. “Come on Sarah, we both know that the Orioles will be in the series.” Startled I blink “we do? Let’s suppose they are you doubt my team will beat them?”
Hal becoming somewhat assured Sarah is picking up on this and positive he is right challenges the girl. “Tell you what if the Pirates beat Baltimore you will go to the prom with me.”
I gasp gaining a minor victory. “what kind of a bet is that? If my team wins, I go to the prom with you?” There has to be more to this bet than that.”
“Let me up the ante,” says Hal. “Baltimore will win three of the first four games. Then Pittsburgh comes back to win the last three you will go to the prom with me?”
I turn white as my fingers grasp the phone. ‘Holy shit that is exactly what happened!’ There is a long pause and with certainty I know, ‘he is Megs.’
“Are you still there?” Hal asks.
“Uh sure I did not go anywhere. I am just trying to figure out where you came up with that.”
Hal laughs, “let’s say a little voice told me.”
Stalling I process the clues. ‘A little voice, interesting choice of words. He knows how the World Series plays out. I am almost certain now. “Ok if that happens and my parents let me go you have a prom date.”
Hal obviously happy with her answer pushes it. “Then can we call this a boy friend girl friend thing?”
“Maybe,” I answer. “Humility is more becoming you should try it. It is just a thought though I, gotta go. I’m getting the evil eye. See you Saturday.” I did not have to get off the phone because of my parents. I had to leave because Hal had rocked my boat. He just crumbled part of my wall raising my hopes that just perhaps I will be reunited with Megan.
I turned on the PDA to listen to the Friday night ball game when the Voice spoke. “I wanted to touch base with you. How are you progressing?”
Cautiously, I answer as I still do not trust this handler. “It is ok I am getting used to it. How is Megan is she progressing?”
The Voice reminds. “Megan is a he and doing just fine. You have not seen him?
I pause sensing a trap, “seen him? Most likely if he goes to my school but how would I know? You won’t tell me who he is.”
The Voice laughs, “I cannot do that. Do you have any boy friends yet?”
I am not interested in playing this game. My answer is sharp. “My parents won’t let me date and you know that.”
He presses further, “nothing important I just thought that curiosity would factor in. Like what does the other side experience in matter between people.”
I snarl at him “It has not crossed my mind.”
The Voice not ready to let go presses. “Do you know there are millions of men, who would love the opportunity share your experience.
Again I attempt to change the subject, “You know I am not millions. I hate to disappoint you but my bones are not going to be jumped just to satisfy your sick fantasy.”
The voice says, “don’t get short with me. I was just asking.”
“Fine, whatever,” I answer enunciating my favorite teen angst word, whatever, is there anything else?”
The Voice remains silent for a bit then remembers his discussion with his superiors and decides not to push it too far. “I was just simply asking to see if there is anything you need.”
I hesitate before responding. “I, don’t think so but there is a question.”
“Yes, what is it,” quires the Voice.
“You said when I accomplish my assignment. That Meg and I will be reunited. We will be a couple is that true?
The answer comes back as a certainty. “The boss promised that on that you can rely.”
I consider my next statement, “what of the old Sarah what if she is not ready?”
The voice’s defenses are suddenly raised as he knows the original is not likely to be ready. “Why do you ask?”
The tension in my voice is clear. “I just want to be certain if she is not you will not expect me to stay in this role any longer.”
The voice laughs, “worried you will get accustomed to skirts or what?”
Getting more irritated by the minute I comment, “I’d like to talk with your Boss it seems your word may not be good enough.”
The voice feigns hurt as he says, “Sarah you have the word of the Boss’s servant and you will not be forced to go beyond graduation. To make an informed decision you should indulge all aspects of being a beautiful young woman.”
I regard that with a jaundiced rebuttal. “No thank you Voice, I will do it my way. You just hold your end up.” I disconnect as the Voice says, “anything you need just ask.”
As I drifted off to sleep I remembered the resistance, I heard from the Voice and considered he did not answer my request to talk with the Boss. ’Oh well’ I get to spend tomorrow with Hal’. I frown thinking
There will be five other students and three teachers. Oh joy’ I slept well. If you discount a brief dream where James Earl Jones told me that he would protect me. The Voice did not have the final say on anything. For some strange reason I felt reassured but had no idea why.
My father dropped me off at the trail head and spoke with the teachers. Assured that these people had a good plan and knew what they were doing he went home. He would pick me up at four pm. Dad had all his hiking equipment in the trunk and was ready to go up the trail after us if he needed to.
The plan was to climb to a col between two high peaks. The col being the low point on the ridge top connecting two peaks. These peaks were two of the lower ones as late September can bring any kind of weather. There was a shelter at 3,000 feet where we could brake on the way up and back. Mr. Reynolds knew from experience the kids loved these shelters and they were the main attraction for a lot of them. I was the only girl other than Violet. Violet was with her boy friend so extra care was required to watch those two. At least I did not have a boy friend though Mr. Reynolds was certain the boys noticed me.
Hal and Sarah walked close together as he did not want anything to happen to her. ’It is funny, my acting protective of her. It has always been the other way around’. Hal thought. Hal walked at a steady pace enjoying his new found strength. After years of illness and chronic pain, Hal finally felt free and was loving it. When he noticed what he was doing an almost inaudible laugh escaped. Hal walked three or four feet behind Sarah for the first two miles his eyes constantly focused on her rear. He thought ‘I am really a guy, aren’t I?’ A soft laugh escaped at completion of that thought.
I heard that under the breath laugh Hal tried to hide. The second snicker caught my attention. I suddenly turned saying “What!” After seventy years as a guy, I knew what he was doing. What troubled me was I was loving it.
“Nothing,” came the reply from Hal.
Hal, one teacher and I were the only ones to reach the top of the second summit. The others chose to return to the shelter having had enough. Mr. Collins who went with Hal and I commented, “you two are very good. You have done this before.” We replied in the positive confessing we intended to do all of the high peaks. Several photos were taken including more than one of Hal and I, with my match needle camera. We soon headed down to the Shelter where Mr. Reynolds left a note explaining one of the students was sick. They decided to walk down early and will meet in the parking lot.
Mr. Collins came down with stomach cramps. He told Hal and I to wait. “I have to use the toilet wait in the shelter after lunch we will walk out.”
I looked at Hal. He was all smiles as we sit next to each other on the Deacons log. “Did you enjoy spending the entire day walking behind me?”
Hal feigns shock attempting to deny when I interrupted. “Hal for the last seventy years I was a guy. I know what you were doing.”
Saying that was a risk but I am certain it is Meg sitting next to me. Time to stop pussy footing around and take a chance. I, can’t wait for Meg’s reaction. I close my eyes praying I am not wrong.
Hal’s eyes widen, “then you know what I am going to do next.”
He leans closer taking me into his arms. When our lips met I nearly melted the rush was beyond anything I had felt before. His strong body against mine betrayed his physique. Especially the particular feature I felt pressed against my mid section. I kissed him back with equal desire whispering “I love you Megan.”
Hal answered back with the comment Megan had always given, “no more than I you bunky.”
I whispered, “it really is you.”
Hal nodded “your legs are awesome by the way Bob.”
He called me Bob. I suddenly knew for certain we found each other. I punched him playfully, whispering “Megs.” To which he feigned injury.
“I was only kidding when I said “you have the Kids the next time Bob.”
My eyes widen as I answered, “I wasn’t.
Though I admit the thought of ending up like this, scares the Hell out of me. Suddenly in Hal’s arms I felt comfortable and less threatened. “So let‘s just finish this,” I roll my eyes finishing. “This cosmic joke and get our real selves back.” He kissed me again passionately feeling the desire build as did I.
“You aren’t just a bit curious don’t you want to take these bodies for a spin before our grand return to normalcy?” Bob asked.
He brushed his fingers along my cheek. I shook my head in denial breaking our embrace just before Mr. Collins returned. I considered his question as I walked down the hill.
Hal assumed his position a few steps behind.
It was a relief to discover the others were safe when we returned to the trail head. The teachers made a big deal of Hal and I reaching both peaks. We dismissed it as aw shucks. Dad was already waiting as were Hal’s parents. I did not want to leave Hal as we went to different homes in different vehicles. My frustration increased having to separate from him and by my feelings of confusion. ‘Perhaps Grams can help’, I thought.
Early Sunday afternoon after father dropped me at grandmothers I sat at the kitchen table stirring tea with a confused lost expression. I was wearing a white turtle neck silk blouse under a tan and white flannel unbuttoned shirt. The shirt lay over a pair of faded stone washed jeans appearing as a light jacket. On my head was the cherished ball cap. Grandmother sitting opposite me was curious about what I had on my mind.
Grams could see the concern exude from my face. “Daughter what has you so upset? Is it love?”
I blinked, ‘she knows?’ I dismissed the question while searching for an alternative. “Everything is confusing Grams, that’s all.”
Eleanor Parks is a very astute witch. She is well aware that her granddaughter inherited the gift handed down though generations. She also understood Sarah’s mother was skipped over. Gretchen did not possess the gift though she has considerable intuition. Eleanor thought her granddaughter was at a crisis point. Perhaps shaken because of the discovery of her soul mate. She did not quite understand why this discovery caused conflict. In the past such experience brought with it a stability and feeling of security. Eleanor took a deep breath thinking to herself ‘it is time to rock the boat.’ She drew deeply into her powers projecting a spell that blocks escape. ‘I, can’t have her running I need to know.’ Grams gazes at Sarah asking, “where is the real Sarah?”
MY Magic PDA part 4
Bob and Megan, a married couple in their final years retired for the night. Just before drifting off to sleep Bob made an off hand comment to which Megan agreed with a slight twist. They did not know something was listening and granted their wish. How will this challenge work out when they hardly know the rules of the game?
Sept 20, 2011
Newly edited through the unforgiving seventh grade English teacher. There are a few minor changes but nothing to alter the story. You will notice a change from first person narrative to third person in some scenes. This is intentional. The primary focus is from Bob/Sarah's point of view. I shifted to third person when Bob/Sarah was not involved in the scene and for areas where scene setting is involved. With that in mind it should lessen any confusion. I trust this helps convince you there is a method for the writers madness and it is not a lack of skill. This decision may be a failure but I did it on purpose.
Rights reserved by the author with permission to host granted exclusively to Big Closet.
The question hit me like a ton of bricks. I blink nearly spilling my tea from the clattering cup. “What?’ Is all I can manage.
Eleanor’s fingers trace Sarah’s wrist signaling her support. She again speaks softly. “I know Sarah has changed. But your change has been too great considering the whoring drug user that was my granddaughter.” Her eyes narrow as she adds, “I sense you are an A3.”
I desperately reach for a response. Something to stall while I figure out what to do. I cannot slide my chair back to run. That is not an option.
“An A3 what on Earth is an A3! I have no idea of what you are talking about.”
Grams simply smiles “you are aware we are both witches. You should also realize my skills are far more developed than yours. I will tell you child we are not alone in the universe. You were sent here for a purpose. I, don’t pretend to know why my granddaughter is so important to the order of the universe for the Boss to intercede.”
I sit back listening realizing grandmother knows. What does she know? I have no idea what to say. I remain silent while Grams speaks.
“You know my daughter your mother tried to kill herself not too long ago? In fact it was not too long before you arrived.”
I shake my head stunned at this revelation. “I did not, what happened?”
Eleanor answered “I cast a spell on her to prevent her from taking further action. Then told her quite firmly things would change for the better. I told her to keep fighting. Child my spell cannot hold if there is anymore disappointment.”
I nodded. “Grams I am not going to let her down.”
“Not on purpose I sense,” responded Eleanor. The woman goes on “I am confused about why but there is no doubt you are not the original Sarah.” Eleanor offers a hard gaze upon whoever the granddaughter sitting before her is.
Trapped fully aware I cannot sidestep the issue and this woman will see through a lame story. I consider, ‘should I trust her? She will think I’m daft.’ I, shrug ‘what the hell this zany charade is driving me crazy.’ I set down my tea but before answering I stall repeating a question she did not answer before. “First tell me what is an A3?”
Grams smiles saying, “you don’t know? They did not tell you?” I shake my head. “Then you have no idea about past lives child?” Grams is unsure ‘is the girl is being honest?’ Eleanor pretends to accept that Sarah has not been informed.
“Past lives?” I question. “I know nothing about any past life.”
Eleanor processes this information before coming to a conclusion this a bit more of an oddity. She decides to go forward with a straight answer. “An A3 is a classification noting where you stand in your process to eternal reward or eternal banishment to the Underworld. When you leave this life the committee reviews your standing then sends you back for further growth. Or,” she pauses, “forward to your final solution. Hardly ever does returning involve placement other than that of a newborn. To do otherwise, requires an important task. That can only be assigned to an A2 or 3.”
I almost laugh at her saying “sorry but I did not die.”
Now it is grandmother’s turn to blink having never heard of such a thing. Touching Sarah’s wrist she says, “tell me your story child. Please leave nothing out.”
I relate the entire story leaving out the presence of Megan. Grandmother’s eyes widen providing only a slight glimpse that she is accepting it. I sense it is less doubt and more surprise on grandmother‘s part. I have no idea which it is. I breathe a sigh of relief when she does not call 911.
Eleanor almost shouted her incredulous disbelief of how this was handled. “What idiot turned you into Sarah why not your wife?”
I shake my head confessing no knowledge over what is going on.
“What are you going to do child?” Eleanor asks with a tone of seriousness.
I state calmly “I will do everything I can to straighten out your granddaughter’s life. I intend to give her a life to return to. What she does with it, I cannot control. I want to be reunited with Megan.”
Eleanor says, “you already have improved your life granddaughter. You saved your mother’s life. Gretchen is more relaxed and happier than I have seen her in years. She tells me all the time how proud of you, she is.” She leans across the table hugging Sarah.
I widen my eyes and my voice trembles. “ I am not Sarah just a place holder.”
“I, can’t imagine the terrible conflicting feelings you have my dear. It was not fair what the idiot did to you. I hope the powers to be are making him pay for this. You have done well. Until things change, you are my granddaughter. But you did not tell me everything did you?”
I pause repeating, “everything?”
Grams smiles, “yes Megan your soul mate. She has to be here and if I am correct she is a male and the reason you are here.” “Sarah, you are in love. I see it in your eyes and knowing the story it can only be with your soul mate. You are not about to look at another.” Grandmother laughs. “How long did it take you to figure out who he was?”
I giggle, “not long.”
Eleanor poured refills to both cups and lifted a package from the counter placing it on the seat next to her. Eleanor continued “you made a few mistakes fortunately only I noticed. Remember on day one you learned to apparate? When your father removed the trellis you did not use that ability. Instead you went along with the grounding. The old Sarah would never passed up that chance.” Grandmother sits back. “Then you cast off the clothing not wearing the short skirts showing off what assets you have.” She laughs adding, “now I know why. I do have this gift for you.” She passes the package to the girl.
I hold up a navy pleated skirt and discover I can now stand. Placing it against my waist, I gush, “Perfect I love it.” I examine a white camisole top repeating my sizing of it. “This goes great with the skirt Grams. You knew enough to buy pumps with low heels.” I raise my brows whispering “I love you.” I then felt an instant vice consumed by grandmother’s bear hug.
Eleanor whispers, “you have a feminine soul. I, don’t agree with what they did but I understand why.”
Grandmother sits back “try them your soul mate will like it and you will gain some understanding. I am not encouraging you to want to remain as you are. I must say you are my granddaughter. The one I prayed to have. And Sarah,” her tone turns serious. “You will have some hard decisions to make. Take your time don’t rush.”
I return to a serious tone. “Do you think I am being set up?”
The elder woman answers taking the girl’s hand. “No dear the Boss is on your side. I doubt he had a hand in how you and your wife were switched. I suspect he is quite upset. Just remember your new parents love you deeply as I and your soul mate do. With that amount of love you cannot fail.”
I hug grandmother again, “you don’t make things easy. You don’t know how hard this is. I find myself resenting the loss of who I was. Then I curse me for feeling sorry for myself. If I said no, Megan would be suffering in constant pain. How selfish would I be then?”
“Is it so bad? To be a beautiful young woman who has already found the man who will love her forever?”
I answer, “like I said Grams you don’t make it easy.”
The elder witch kisses Sarah’s cheek, “you can count on me whatever happens. The next time I will teach you some spells. Don’t tell your mother.”
When I get home I rush upstairs to take a shower and try on the clothes grandmother gave me. I walk downstairs enjoying the feel of the material. I stop quickly in front of the full mirror smiling at my reflection. My reverie is broken by a whistle from father.
He calls “Gretchen come quick it’s a girl and a looker at that.”
Mom comes rushing out to look just as I turn to run up the stairs. “You look nice did you buy that outfit?” I shake my head, “Grams.”
The one word answer says it all. Mom smiles, “don’t disappear dinner is ready.”
Gretchen puts down her fork. “Sarah, Claire called she wanted you to go shopping with her. She said to call her back when you got home. It slipped my mind I am sorry.” Gretchen tightened expected a tirade.
I simply nodded saying, “that’s all right I will call her after dinner.”
Mother relaxed thinking ‘she really has changed.’ It was then that Dad commented. “Your team did what I thought was impossible. They were the first to come back from being down three games to one.”
I beam, “I was never worried. Just imagine the bragging rights I can gloat all year.”
Gretchen suddenly exclaims “I almost forgot my program I will have to rush to get the dishes done.”
“Don’t worry about it mom I’ll get them.”
Mom’s eyes widen, “you will?”
As the parents walk to the living room Gretchen looks to Martin, “what happened?” Martin smiles, “don’t ask just enjoy.”
The voice was quick to speak as Sarah turned on her PA to do nothing really. “Sarah, how about an update” the Voice begins.
I almost shut the machine off instead I quipped, “an update? Nothing to report things are just going along. That is what you wanted wasn’t it? Why don’t you tell me what comes next. I have this girl on track when is she coming back?”
The voice answers “the goal is completed when you graduate.”
I again balk questioning, “no one has told me how the original is doing.”
He does not answer only a dismissive comment comes from the Voice. “Don’t worry about it do your job and you get what you want.”
“What about Megan is she ok?” I press.
The voice gives his same noncommittal answer. “You talked to her a week ago and everything was fine.”
I whine it is a trait I learned well along with the innocent pout. “she told me nothing you won’t let us talk. I bet you watch us non stop following us down the halls of school, don’t you?” I was attempting to discover just how far my handler could reach. Piss him off and he slips up every so often, I have been able to get him to reveal things unintentionally before.
With a tinge of stress the Voice replies, “follow you? We communicate through this contraption and I can talk to you in dreams. But I, can’t see you.“
I present a doubtful tone challenging that. “You are telling me you can’t see me.”
The voice replies, “I cannot so stop nagging me.”
“Stop nagging you!” I scream in all caps. “You turn me into a girl and cry because I ask questions? I find that hard to believe you are that limited in your ability.”
Frustrated, the voice grows more indignant. “I cannot physically see you other than on this PDA screen when we are communicating.
“So you can see me right now.” I press. I, Can‘t see you that‘s not fair.
“Yes but, he continues. “The Boss won’t allow you to see me until” he stops.
One of those eternal moments took place revealing I hit a nerve.
The Voice begins again. “For you to see me, I have to assume a human form. Only the Boss can allow that. He will not until the assignment is complete. I can communicate with you in this matter only. And in the dream state but I am not allowed to manipulate in that manner.”
“Then we will meet face to face when we are finished in June?” I challenged.
Grudgingly the Voice answers “Yes we will set up a meeting when it is time for you to choose your new host. Both you and Megan together then you will know who he is, not until then.”
Once the communication is closed I smile, ‘got him again. I still don’t trust him.’ I go off to sleep well satisfied. Again I am visited in my dream. A deep speaking voice confirmed. “You are more than a match for the voice. I am enjoying your sparing with him.”
The school year progressed steadily with little conflict as I proved to be popular. I grew more guarded as my abilities in witchcraft honed with little effort on my part. To me it seemed to be a natural progression. As I walked down the hall to class I could actually read some of the thoughts male students transmitted. One guy actually told me by thought some pretty nasty things he wanted to do. ‘God,’ I thought, ’that son of a bitch is dangerous.’ It was things like this drew me even closer to Hal.
Everyone in school knows we are a couple. It was clear I belong to Hal. It helps Hal six foot tall and ripped. It is clear Hal is no one to antagonize. I feel safe. What troubles me is the sudden desire to wear those new gold maple leaf earrings. Mother convinced me to not only get my ears pierced but a manicure as well. ’What’s next lipstick’ I thought. This girly persona is getting out of control and Hal is loving every minute of it.
I am rarely without Hal or Claire at my side. I need not worry as I know plenty of defense spells. I can immobilize an attacker with a single thought. I do not want to be in a position to explain it if seen. “I wonder,’ that guy who wants to do me in nasty ways. Could I cast a spell giving him a period?’ Laughing I thought ‘I’ll ask grams.’
Cindy Carlton catches up with Hal as he was leaving the school track. Hal had been running while he was waiting for Sarah to get out of her class for lunch. Cindy leans close to him whispering “I hear the Ice Princess does not put out.” Before Hal can react she presses her hand against his unit saying, “he feels like he needs attention.” Hal blinks gently moving her hand “what do you charge?” Horrified Cindy attempted to slap him but Hal stepped back. He laughs. “Whatever, you are not worth it.”
I saw the interaction and watched Cindy turn to walk away. I smile kissing Hal‘s cheek.
Hal flustered, “you heard?”
Grinning I say, “of course, if you want to go for it.”
Hal lowers his eyes, “Sarah you know I would never.”
Realizing the spot the poor fellow is in I giggle. “I am only teasing. I am as curious as you are.”
Hal’s eyes widen, “really?”
“Down boy,” I fire back. “It is not time.” I demonstrated my expertly honed coy smile. “I know you want to take that out on a test drive. Cindy is such a total babe I, wouldn’t blame you.” Leaning closer I whisper in Hal’s ear. “It is me the seventy year old Bob. I know what you are going through.”
Hal looks at her thinking ‘I was a woman for seventy years I know exactly what would happen if I acted on that. The female Bob would come out with a vengeance’ Being a guy though he could not resist. “What do you mean? I will never hurt you.”
Sarah replies “I know Hal, but I see you and everyday you seem to enjoy being a guy more and more. Do you know what the voice told me?”
Hal shakes his head “no what?”
I tell him about the face to face meeting in June when we can chose our new personas. “Hal will you be ready to return to skirts?”
Hal shrugs, “will you be ready to give them up Sarah?” He kisses Sarah again. “Babe, I love you more than life itself. We will do what makes both of us happy. No, the voice tells me nothing.”
I answer him. “I was only kidding about Cindy. You want to screw her go ahead. It might help you decide if you want to be a guy or not.”
Hal says, “are you serious?”
I nod and walk toward the lunch room.
Hal walks beside her thinking ‘I was a woman for seventy years. I know what she said but I don’t buy a word of it. Do I want to die? No! Then forget that idea.’ He pats Sarah on the behind, ‘but if she makes the same offer of herself.’ Hal grins as his hand rest on Sarah’s hip. ‘She is the best looking guy I have ever seen.’
I turn to Hal and his expression is confused to say the least. He suddenly wraps his arms around me kissing me with passion. I nearly melt my hormones rising. I think ‘he is not making this easy.’
On a Saturday afternoon I am sitting on the edge of Claire’s bed with my legs tucked under me. I am wearing the outfit grandmother bought me. The black haired girl sits next to me chatting away about her boyfriend Paul. “So Sarah how is it going with you and Hal?”
I smile. “It could not be better, but we have not crossed the line.”
Claire blushes “Paul and I haven’t either though we want to.” The conversation continued along that vein for several minutes until my gaze caught glimpse of a guitar in the corner. “Is that your’s?” I ask Claire.
The girl nods as she stands to retrieve it. “I tried learning but I’m not too good at it. I can play a few riffs.” She begins to strum not sounding too bad. She was pretty good as a matter of fact. “Did you ever try the guitar Sarah?” Claire asks adding. “I am struggling but not awful” she giggles.
I dismissively shrug, “I used to play some until people started to cringe. The hard rock screamed at them and my parents threatened to confiscate it. Dad cited something about violating the noise ordinances.”
Claire laughed offering the instrument.
I declined, “your parents won’t like the noise.”
Claire pushed “do something soft, come on.”
Holding the guitar I fingered it considering saying, “I don’t really know any songs that are quiet. I never listened to John Denver you know.”
Claire laughs, “fake it.”
I begin to play a verse of one of Bob’s favorites by Sarah McLachlan. The tune of Elsewhere begins to take shape as I sing,
“Oh the quiet child awaits the day she can break free
The mold that clings like desperation
Mother can’t you see I’ve got to live my life the way I feel is right for me
Might not be right for you but it’s right for me, Oh”
I suddenly stop as Claire’s eyes are wide. “Oh, my God Sarah where did that come from it’s awesome.”
I try to make myself small realizing the mistake I made. “It’s nothing that’s all I got. I don’t even know where it came from.”
Claire looks doubtful, “really you are not jiving me are you?”
I shake my head swearing, “no it is just something that has been kicking around.” Another shrug, “you know we all do that.”
Claire nods “I do that too but Sarah, your voice, those words”
With a blush I stumble forward. “Think of it this way. In twenty years when you hear that song you will remember me.”
Claire punches her “like I’d ever forget you.”
Later that evening I told grandmother on the phone about the incident reporting how I was in a cold sweat. Grandmother agreed not knowing the singer or the song she said to me “you need to control that spontaneity.” I giggle, “I know Grams. You know how many times in the shower I catch myself singing Starship’s song Sara?”
Grandmother smiles “Who’s song?”
I laugh again. “A rock group named Starship releases the song in 1985 and it goes to the top.”
Grams says. “When you come over you sing it for me. I don’t want to wait that long. You know child as a witch I have powers but you have a curse.”
I blink, “a curse?”
Grandmother explains the heavy responsibility I bear because I can remember the future. “It is not the same as predicting. You know the certainty. You must be careful child. You have the ability to cause major disruptions.”
I frown, “thanks for the reminder.”
Thanksgiving comes and goes along with it as the season morphs into the deep cold and heavy snow of an Adirondack winter slow transformations take place with Sarah and Hal. Hal often works out. He avoided organized school sports. As Megan he rejected the jock’s persona. Hal wanted nothing to do with that scene. To be expected considering who Hal was he recoiled each time one of the guys spoke about their sexual conquest. Hal rarely spoke to them of Sarah allowing himself to only say things like how cool and together she is. Some of the guys called him pussy whipped but not to his face. He often heard references to Sarah’s clown accompanied to the tune of the old Everly Brothers hit, Cathy‘s Clown.
Hal did not have it too bad though since he was regarded as a hunk and quite popular. He did question inwardly about what he was going to do. Hal certainly enjoyed being a guy. He liked working with his father on fix up jobs and was becoming a capable carpenter. Like Sarah, he had no siblings in this family and no ability to sneak into a sister’s room to try on her clothes. In fact he came to regard womens' clothing as something designed by men. He missed what he enjoyed while being Megan. This new world gave him more independence, more strength, more options. Hal questioned with apprehension ‘how are Bob and I going to resolve this.’
With six feet of snow piled up I look out my upstairs bed room window. I have too many questions. My everyday school uniform morphed to include black tights. The feeling of silken shaved legs are exciting. The everyday glances in my direction that I notice. I can feel them measuring my form. It pleased while at the same time threatens me. I feel the building desire emanating from Hal. My own curiosity grew each day. I am well aware eventually I will give myself to Hal. The unbroken white glare from below is interrupted every few moments by snow falling from the pines. The scene is enthralling even if it is minus ten degrees out there.
I thought about grandmother’s warning that I would have tough decisions to make. ‘Could Hal and I simply switch places? Would he even want to?’ I step into a tub to enjoy a bubble bath. ‘I wonder do we simply fire up the Sims on the Voice’s computer and build our new bodies? That is if the real Hal and Sarah come back?’ I sink myself into the warm water. Enjoying the feeling to the limit, I close my eyes, ‘like they are coming back. No girl you are screwed. Well at least I could not have built a better me if I had a choice.’
Martin Ryan spoke to his wife Gretchen one week before Christmas. He was holding a letter from the school. “They want us to come in for a review of Sarah’s progress on Tuesday.”
Gretchen frowns, “is that something they normally do or is this an exception?”
Martin answers, “it was not mentioned in the prospectus other than to say parental reviews are sometimes done.”
Gretchen’s eyes narrow, “shit! It is going to hit the fan isn’t it?”
Martin warns, “who knows she has been doing quite well hasn’t she?”
Mother draws defensive, “I though so but we both know she can be devious.”
Martin hugs his wife, “don’t you believe her?”
“Of course, I do Martin. But years of disappointment, lies, drugs and what else who knows?”
Mr. Rossi greeted the parents to his office. As they entered they noticed what some of the thousands they paid to send their daughter here provided. The plush thick pile tan carpet cushioned and warmed their feet as they crossed to the supple leather wing backed chairs. The hand rubbed highly polished oaken desk gleamed back at them as light shown through the arched cut glass windows. Gretchen smoothed her skirt as she sat while Martin simply crossed his legs. Mr. Rossi sat after shaking their hands. His expression did not betray any concerns or issue any warning about what he might say.
The Head Master opened a tan file folder laying it flat on the table before him. “I must say,” he begins. “Your daughter has created quite a stir among the staff.”
Both parents gulp clasping each other’s hand awaiting the bomb shell. “We have a concern Mr. and Mrs. Ryan which needs to be cleared up. I am hoping you can help.”
Gretchen and Martin look at each other puzzled. “Problem?” Martin begins, “what problem is Sarah causing trouble? If so why weren’t we told?” His expression relates his now defensive posture.
Rossi passes a single sheet of paper across to the parents. The letter head carries the public school’s mast head and logo. It is dated August 10, 1979. Gretchen and Martin view the impossible grades as they were listed mostly A’s and B’s. The letter was signed by the principal, Mrs. Quinn. The school seal was affixed. Both parents raised their brows. They knew this could not be true. But neither said anything.
“Now we get this one dated last week.” Mr. Rossi passes another sheet to the parents. Same letter head, same stamped seal with the same signature. The highest grade was a D.
Rossi speaks again. “I called the school they deny sending the first notice. It seems your daughter was absent more days than she attended. Can you explain this?”
Martin answers, “what you are proposing is either my wife or I sneaked into the school. We then intercepted your request, forged the school records and copied the principal’s signature then affixed the school seal. Can you even remotely explain how that is plausible?”
Surprised Rossi answers, “no I cannot and I am not accusing you of anything.”
Martin points to the attached envelopes. “Do you see both of these reports were made from the school. It looks like they made the mistake.”
Gretchen interrupts, “we never made any claims. We signed the releases. You requested the records and you accepted her. I admit we were surprised you accepted her. To suggest we did anything illegal in order to provide cover for an incompetent school is an affront.”
Rossi sits back reducing his posture to enable a calming answers “I did not mean to imply. I was only asking if you had any idea how this happened.”
Martin, in a cold voice responds, “we answered that question. You tell us how is Sarah doing in her classes and what is her behavior like? We have not fielded a single complaint.”
Rossi reaches for another file already knowing the answer. Straight A’s she is challenging for valedictorian and rumor has it, prom queen.”
Both parents blink, “what!” They say in unison.
Mr. Rossi smiles. “Whatever happened be it a sudden turnaround from rebel or a mistake by the old school Sarah is a credit to this school and her parents.” All three stand handshakes around. “Thank you for coming in,” Rossi finishes.
Gretchen and Martin walk outside stunned. Martin looks to Gretchen. “I did not expect that.”
After dinner that evening Sarah was talking on the phone with her friend Claire while her parents drank coffee in the kitchen.
Martin spoke first, “hon are you surprised by the school report?”
She exhales slowly, “shocked is more like it. We thought she was doing better, making an effort. But this I can’t explain.”
Martin smiles, “I think I can. It is because of you.”
Gretchen leans forward reaching for her husband’s hand. “How can you say that?” Her eyes fully tearing as he answers.
“Remember the night in the park when you found her buzzed, high on drugs? How you dragged her out with two guys threatening you and the kid screaming calling you every name in the book. And the time you dragged her out of a bar so drunk she could not stand. You actually struck a guy with that backpack you call a purse. He threatened you and you slugged him with that thing.”
“Then there was the time last summer when you drove one hundred fifty miles to overtake and drag her off a bus. She was running away with some hippies. How about the time you brought her to the hospital when you found her unconscious beside the road?”
Gretchen blinks remaining silent the tears over coming her. “Perhaps,”
Martin finishes “all of this had an effect.”
Gretchen shook her head, “I, don’t know. It was not me alone you know you were right beside me.”
Martin hugs her, “valedictorian, prom queen? Who would have thunk it?”
Gretchen adds, “we won’t even let her date.”
“Got that straight and I’m not changing my mind now.” Martin contributes before Gretchen stills him with a finger pressed to his lips. “Martin you can’t say no to the Senior Prom after what she has accomplished. You know that boyfriend of hers is quite a guy.”
Martin blinks, “boy friend? She is not allowed to date.”
Gretchen laughs, “have you looked at your daughter? Count yourself lucky there are not a hundred guys coming around. Besides we said no dating. We never mentioned boy friend. You know Hal Cowles don’t you?” “The guy from the outing club. He saved her life you know.”
Before Martin can comment Gretchen goes on, “besides Hal reminds me of you. Sarah cannot go wrong if he is like you.”
Martin presses, “saving her life? You forgot to mention this little matter!”
Gretchen answers, “I will let Sarah tell you. She tells that story quite graphically.
I hung up the phone after finishing my discussion with Claire. I heard her mother’s comment but did not wish to discuss it. I escaped quite nicely with the school report and did not want to push it. I turned walking up the stairs to my room. I Mumbled to myself complaining the initial Sarah did not record any of her dalliances in her journal. I questioned if the girl was too zoned out to remember any of it or if it was a desire to not leave evidence behind. I slipped into the bubble bath to soak thinking, ‘what an effed up broad.’ As I relaxed having avoided the Voice, ‘no I did not want to talk to him.’ I returned to my original thoughts. Looking down at those budding breasts noting how small they were. ‘I think it is a trait of athletic girls perhaps that’s why I climb mountains and run as often as I can.’ My fingers brush against the mounds raising a sense of warmth. I smiled imaging what experience may come from finally letting Hal try that.
The incident about Hal saving my life may have been a bit melodramatic containing more romanticism than anything else. I was climbing a slide on one of the mountains. We were forced to traverse along a crack about half the width of my foot. Hal led the way until we reached a corner with nowhere to go but up. Hal reached for a tree trunk about six or seven inches in diameter. I followed scared shitless but could not reach the tree. I am now four inches shorter than Hal. I cussed about my losing inches from my old self. My foot slipped and I started to fall. There was nothing but two thousand feet of air below.
Without turning around Hal reached back, grabbed yelling “hold on”. He pulled me up. Once on top of the ridge Hal hugged me tightly with all he had. His passionate kiss set me on fire. He suddenly stopped now that we were safely on top of the ridge. He began rubbing his arm as it was bright red from my grip.
“I told you to hold tight” he said. “I did not mean with your teeth.”
I laughed saying, “with my arms, my legs and my teeth. I will hold onto you.”
There were several incidents where we discovered each could anticipate what the other was thinking. We knew what the other needed at any given moment without speaking.
After describing this story to dad, during the ride to school the next morning I said. “Dad I do love him and I know how he feels about me.” Dad took it in stride saying “I have to meet this Adonis.”
Mrs. Ryan cautiously explores the issue of birth control with Sarah. Knowing full well an excusatory explosion could erupt. Gretchen had thought before speaking but plowed ahead thinking ’I am her parent, not her friend. Screw risking offending her.’
I found it humorous to see mom struggle with this. “No mom there is no need for that Hal and I respect each other.”
Gretchen exhaled slowly as she drops her daughter at school. ’Who is that girl? I love her.’ She, shrugs then drives home.
“Her name is Sarek” Dar’Fur the six and a half foot tall Vulcan says resolutely as he presents his report to the committee. The supervisor listens carefully while the Voice sits distracted at the end of the table. They were referring to the initial Sarah sent off because the committee could not control her. Dar’Fur reports the girl was resistant until he completed a mind meld. “
She harbored considerable anger which I was able to release. She is hosted by a Vulcan teenage female body and with some difficulty she is accepting of her new culture. We have completed the Affianced ceremony.”
The Supervisor questions “Affianced?”
Dar’Fur answers “that is the process of promising her in marriage. She will be united with an Elder’s son.” Dar’Fur laughs, “she is very distressed because her first pon farr is seven years off.”
The Supervisor’s brows raise. “You mean she won’t have sex for seven years?”
The vulcan nods. “It had to be done to reduce her human promiscuity.“ Dar’Fur levels a scolding glance to those sitting at the table. “I discussed this with the Boss before applying our methods. You cannot expect the girl to inhabit a Vulcan body and not be treated as a Vulcan. Nor can you expect the Vulcan body cycles not to occur.”
The voice, asks,” what you are saying is she will not be available to rejoin her old body.”
Dar’Fur nods, “that is correct unless you determine to undo what we gained. She is a Vulcan.”
The voice frowns, “whatever will I tell Sarah our agent?”
The Supervisor answers, “for now you remain silent.”
Dar’Fur stands, “we are done.” As the Vulcan exits the Boss enters the room.
“Voice,” he says with deep resonance “do not worry about Sarah or Hal for that matter. They will be given the bodies of their choice as promised. It is for the best we do not upset the girl at this critical juncture.”
The Voice nods happy to be relieved of the task of breaking the news. Conflict is not something he is good at. “What should we tell the original Hal?” The Voice asked the Boss nervously.
The Boss says “as we lost the original Sarah, I rewrote the fates. He is now in North Carolina with his new soul mate.”
The voice blinks not wanting to challenge the Boss. “Don’t mention this to Hal either?”
The Boss answered, “correct as both the original hosts failed.”
The Supervisor with a concerned expression says, “Boss you don’t want them to know because you believe they care about the originals because they are living their lives trying to repair the damage. The knowledge before finishing their assignments may cause them to give up in despair.”
“Something like that”. the Boss answers. The meeting was declared over and each began to file out.
The Voice remained seated alone in the room. He glanced from one corner to the other as beads of sweat built upon his brow.
The Boss returned, “Voice what are you doing sitting there?” “
Can we talk?” Came a sheepish reply.
The cheerleaders chilled to the bone were nevertheless jumping up and down yelling at the top of their voices. Perhaps part of it was because it warmed them on the cold April afternoon. Perhaps it was because Sarah was well ahead as she turned the final corner in the quarter mile race. The girl cut quite a figure in her brief blue shorts and White tee emblazoned with the Pine view logo. Ryan was lettered on the back with the number 21. She insisted on number 21 after her hero the Great Roberto Clemente. She wore a gold head band with her short honey blond hair billowing from underneath. As she crossed the finish line she bent over grabbing her thighs. The team surrounded her and Hal stood there beaming. She had just won the North Country girls track meet in the quarter mile. If her team mates win the relay, the school wins the section title.
I am so nervous I pace back and forth waiting for the next race. After I gulped for air to steady my breathing, I finally relax. I am happy not to be running in the next race. I won two races this afternoon having won the 100 meter dash as well. I happened to see Trish standing with the cheerleaders. She was waving at me. Trish called, “Sarah over here.”
I walked over “you were great,”
Trish exclaimed, “Congratulations.” Trish points to the scoreboard “you broke the state quarter mile record. We never won the championship before.”
I hug Trish happily nodding, “one more race to go and those Raiders are murder.” I point to the red uniformed team. “They win all the time don’t they?”
Trish now joined by the other cheerleaders who began to chime in. “They never had to go against you.”
I blush with pride mostly because I have been accepted.
Karen the captain of the hot girls club said. “The first time I laid eyes on you. I hated you.”
Her declaration catches me off guard and I widen my eyes, “why I didn’t even know you?”
Karen smiles, “because I figured you could have any guy you wanted. You would cut into my turf. Then you defended us when you did not have to. Now you are state champion and you don’t act too good to talk to us.”
Giggling, I look at Karen offering my hand saying. “Karen like I said I know how hard you guys work. I doubt I’d be able to keep up,” Now I am grinning. “Besides life is tough enough no need to make enemies when you don’t have to.”
Karen smiles back. “Where did you find that hunk? Hal is his name isn’t it?”
Trish answers, “remember that guy who sat with the geeks and you called him a loser?”
Karen blinks, pointing toward the approaching Hal, “that was him?” She flushes, “Oh my God.”
I turn almost leaping into Hal’s arms kissing him. While in the classic movie pose with one leg in the air sticking out behind I turn my upper body smiling toward Karen, “I did notice and he is a keeper.”
In a matter of minutes the school’s relay team came across the finish line first.
Gretchen and Martin had finally managed to work their way through the crowd they did not see the kiss. Sarah and Hal approached as did Mr. and Mrs. Cowles. Hal introduced his parents to Sarah’s while the adults exchanged greetings the pair stood quietly.
Mrs. Cowles turned to Sarah “so you are the girl who captured my son.”
I raise a mused expression as my eyes betray my joy.
That was an amazing run just before the final event.” Mrs. Cowles stated before turning to my parents. “You should be proud.”
Mom beamed with satisfaction this being one of the few times in the past several years she received compliments from anyone about me. The small talk continued for a short time before the families parted for their separate homes. But not before a few quiet “I love you” whispers passed between Hal and I.
For Hal’s part he was never into sports as Megan. With this forced assignment he did as requested, keep a low profile. As Megan, she went along with Bob in his rooting for various teams pretending to be interested.
In this life with her old personality she was not going to change just to please some voice on a PDA. She was Hal the love of her life remains that same person, her soul mate, even if he looks like a heart breaker.
To say Megan as Hal was confused would be an understatement. Just one glance into the mirror told the story. ‘I am six foot tall with muscles where I never had before. My old self would be panting to get closer to the new me’ She felt the rise of that troublesome unit when it saluted each time Sarah made an appearance. ‘It must be the hormones because the sight of a naked guy in the gym shower does nothing for me. When I see a girl everything is different.’ Hal takes a deep breath as he slides his fingers along the offending organ, while thinking of Sarah. He stops considering ‘I really am a guy.’ He grins at that thought ‘it’s not that bad there are certain advantages.’ Hal fires up his PDA to talk with the Voice but he gets no response. There are a million questions he needs to ask but ‘they will have to wait’ he thinks.
At that moment the Voice is sitting at the table looking doubtfully at the Boss after presenting the question he now regrets.
The Boss offers a stern gaze. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“The assignment,” returns a nervous Voice.
The Boss rubs his chin thoughtfully, “what about the assignment?”
Gathering his courage the Voice in a small tenor, almost a squeak speaks his mind. “Now that the mission has fallen apart I request reassignment.”
The Boss raises his brows presenting a curious gaze. “What makes you think it has failed?”
The Voice blinks being uncomfortable speaking to his master in this way. “Sir the initial Sarah, we intended to restore because of the assigned fates is forever lost to her family. She will not return from Vulcan. You verified that by rewriting the fates.”
He draws a deep breath continuing. “The original Hal who died was downloaded into a new host and united with his soul mate. You admitted yourself Sarah was misidentified as his soul mate.”
The Boss begins to show agitation but the Voice continues.
“Instead of the original Hal and Sarah’s line of descendents producing some world saving event you changed it to Hal and another female. What are we doing? The faithful pair you sent to pave the way, are completing their task for no purpose. It no longer matters if they succeed or not.”
The Boss studies his underling for a considerable amount of time before responding. “You have summed up the situation accurately. Except you are missing several possibilities which I will not outline at this time. You owe it to the new Hal and Sarah to make sure they complete their task. Then you will present the choices to them and you will bring them here to choose their new bodies.”
The Voice blinks, lowering his gaze in submission.
The Boss adds as the Voice stands to leave. “At this very moment Hal is trying to contact you. I suggest you attend to it.”
A sort while later, the Voice was doing crisis control attempting to mollify the boy. There were many questions posed by Hal. The most concerning question required confirmation they will be united together in a similar fashion that existed before this intervention. There were no real answers beyond affirmation that required faith.
Hal exited the conversation with no more certainty than he had when he began. He sat in the den looking at an open school book without seeing the pages. He thought about the gender dysphoria he experienced. Hal relished in his ability to simply crawl out of bed, shower and run a comb through his hair to get ready. He loved not having girls measuring him as the competition but as an object to be desired. Guys are different. True they are competitive but not utilizing the catty rituals Megan had struggled with. He also reveled in the basic benefit of not having a monthly visitor.
Then there was the girls they noticed them and he noticed them. ‘I love Bob with all my heart but can I go back to being Megan? I long to make love to Sarah. Do I long to protect Sarah and provide for her as she did me for fifty years? What about Sarah what does she want?’ Shaking his head Hal tried to study but nothing was resonating from those pages.
Late in the spring, I was eating lunch alone when Claire arrived late in an excited mood.
The girl sat down hurriedly, “Sar,” she, eeps. “I just spoke with the Head Master. He called me in to give me the news.”
I tilt my head noting the excitement “news what news?”
Claire smiles, “I am in the top two for a full scholarship at Hillsdale College. Have you ever heard about that school?”
I beam excitedly, “yes they are in the Midwest somewhere, very expensive, very exclusive. Tell me what is that about?”
Claire tells me “It seems every year that college gives a free ride to the top student at this school. I, can’t go to college without a deal like that. My parents could not afford it.”
I finger my hair twisting a knot around my index finger. I say nothing letting Claire talk.
She continues “I never told anybody but I need a scholarship to go here. My parents could never afford this place. All of these kids here are rich. Haven’t you noticed there are only two or three that live in this area?”
Nodding I admit, “I never thought about it.”
Claire in a quiet voice, “you did not have to.”
That conversation bothered me all afternoon I silently prayed Claire would win. ‘I could ask the Voice He does owe me’ I thought. As I entered study hall a teacher sends me to the Dean’s office. Where I learned, I was the other student. “Mr. Rossi,” I begin, “what if I, don’t want it?”
Rossi’s eyes nearly explode, “don’t want it? Are you serious? Your parents would get very upset and we would have to include the third best student for consideration. Furthermore, you may not be allowed to withdraw.”
My eyes narrow as Rossi speaks further. “Ms Ryan you are our top student and the award always goes to the top student. Rarely does the panel select the salutatorian. It can happen but unless you egg the cars of the panel you will likely win.”
I leave the office completely depressed planning ways to burn down the gym.
I told Hal about it and he became excited then hesitated. “This certainly screws things up what are you going to do?”
I laugh “I could always get caught slashing tires.”
Hal grabs my shoulders shaking “you will do no such thing.”
I smile “of course not. I will drive the Voice over the edge with this problem. Let him earn his pay, he does get paid doesn’t he?”
Now it is Hal’s turn to laugh. “What about your grandmother you keep telling me how she seems to know everything?”
I nod absently “this may even be beyond her.”
Hal kisses me stroking my hair again driving me to the edge. “Take me now,” I wanted to scream. I end the conversation as mother’s car pulls up in front of the school. “Gotta go,” using my best chirpy voice. Hal waves.
The first thing I do is fire up my PDA. “Voice, Sarah to Voice, we have a problem.”
The distracted Voice answers cautiously with a bit of sarcasm. “Now what there is always a petty problem with you.”
My resolute voice gets to the heart of the matter. “Who won the college scholarship when Sarah was not there?”
The Voice balks scratching his head wondering what this is all about. “I have no idea and I, can’t bother the Boss with this because of the trouble I already caused.”
I scream, “trouble you don’t know meaning of the word yet.”
I remembered Grams' comments when she heard of the gender switch. Then considered all of the angst it presented to she and Hal when the light bulb went off. “It was you who switched Hal and my gender without orders. Is that it?”
Startled the Voice withdraws into a timid tenor. “How did you know?”
“Never mind that just get me an answer NOW!” I demanded. “I will hold on.”
In what seemed like an eternity the Voice returned, “it was a girl named, Claire Wilson.”
I explained the situation finishing with, “unless you want to screw up the Fates as you call them. Claire must win that scholarship We both know Sarah would not have won it and will not likely be here after graduation. There must be a plan for Claire and winning that scholarship is part of that plan.”
The Voice hesitates, “how do you propose we do that?”
Reaching the boiling point I explode on him. “Are you trying to tell me that you can take two senior citizens download them into teenage bodies. Then move the initial occupants to places unknown, but can’t commit simple voter fraud? Come on Voice unless you want me to bring a Cherry bomb to school or something more radical. You will figure it out. You don’t want this whole scheme of your to blow up in your face just when you are reaching success.”
The Voice agrees, “it will be done. The Boss does not like tinkering but I am sure he will overlook this slight indiscretion.”
In my best sex kitten voice I purr, “Mr. Voice?”
“Now what” the voice braces himself.
“While you are fudging the polls, make sure I am not the Prom Queen. Give that to whoever would have won it.”
The Voice laughs, “you don’t want to be the school beauty? You don’t want to be the envy of all the girls?”
Shimmering blue pools sparkle. “I am already the best looking girl in school. I, don’t need affirmation and I’m not entitled. You asked me to get Sarah though the school year. To keep her safe and to establish a firm footing for her life going forward. I did that, perhaps better than I should have. I, don’t know, but in my entire life, or Bob’s seventy years I never did anything with less than my best effort.”
For perhaps the first time the Voice understood, “yes you are right. Trish will be the Prom Queen.
What’s going to piss you off though, Hal actually did win the title Prom King.” The Voice laughs thinking, ‘take that.’
I go into near melt down upon hearing that news. Thinking of Hal dancing the opening dance, as a solo with the beauty Trish boils me. I then laugh thinking ‘at least it isn’t Cindy. No way, am I spilling the beans to Hal.’
Graduation and the Prom were the over riding center of attention through the last month of school. Claire confessed her concern to me once Paul asked her to the prom. “I can’t wait but I have no idea what to do.” Claire said in a soft voice.
“What do you mean?” I asked her concerned thinking something was horribly wrong.
“Sarah, I can’t afford a prom dress like the bitches will be wearing. It will be something frumpy out the Sears catalogue.”
I nod feeling compassion for Claire. “Did you hear about the promotion at the Deb Store?”
Claire shakes her head.
“They are looking for girls to model prom dresses. They get to keep the dress they model for half price. It is this Saturday so get over there after school to apply.”
Claire agrees to try saying, “but they won’t want me.”
My boney index finger pokes evilly. “Girlfriend you are one of the prettiest girls in this school. Cut the crap.”
What I left out was the casting a spell part. It guaranteed Claire’s acceptance and the exact dress the girl wanted. Grams gave me high holy hell because of that damn ripple. ‘What problem is a lousy dress when compared to the problem of the old Sarah?’
Claire had pressed me about my Prom date. I answered in the same way I always did. My parents will not let me date. “I am not going to the prom.”
Claire thought it odd that I took this most important event with such disinterest. Of course to me or should I say Bob. He is the driver of this organism. To him, he could not care less. To accept that easy answer or excuse would be to discount the raging turmoil I was under. Bob is not here any more and I meaning Sarah has just got to go. I don’t want to be a girl. I do not want all the trappings women suffer. I am Bob. So why in hell am I crying my ass off? Why in hell do I have a sudden urge to be held tightly in Hal’s arms?
A week before the big event Hal found himself knocking on the Ryan’s’ front door. Gretchen answered “Hal Sarah is not here.”
“I know” the young man answers. “She told me yesterday on the mountain she would be at her grandmother’s house. I came to see you and your husband.”
Mrs. Ryan widened her eyes, turned to the inside calling, “Martin we have a visitor.”
She motions Hal inside curious to learn what this is all about. She shepherds him to the kitchen table.
Hal decided to get straight to the point as he is suddenly uncomfortable under the parental glare. “You must know how I feel about Sarah.” He begins his certainty starting to fade. Both parent’s brows rise measuring the lad. Hal presses forward. “I want your permission to ask Sarah to the prom. I know you don’t allow her to date. But,” he turns his pleading eyes toward Gretchen. “You, of all people must know how important this is to a graduating Senior girl.”
Martin is taken back by the courage of this young man. He begins to speak but his wife’s hand steadies him. Instead it is Gretchen who answers.
“Hal you go ahead and ask her. I, don’t doubt what her answer will be.”
Martin then took the opportunity to establish his fatherly rules and to strike fear into the heart of any would be gigolo.
Hal breathed a sigh of relief. He said all the proper “I wills, and sirs and madams.” He turned to leave the table when Sarah bounded in. She was wearing her blue letterman’s jacket with the blue letter B. A short cotton skirt and black hose. Hal smiled taken back she was dressed like a girl.
“Hal,” I exclaim what are you doing here?”
Daddy says “Sarah, sit down the lad has something to ask you. Gretchen we have something to do.”
I sit smoothing my skirt satisfied I have become proficient in that act. Yes, I was wearing a skirt. It seems to be happing more frequently. Hal might have something to do with that. I am not going to tell him. I gazed at Hal in wonderment.
Hal blushing says, “Uh your parents said I could ask you to the prom. If you really, want to go with me.”
For some reason I leap into his arms kissing him answering with a resounding, “YES!”
Hal blinks as suddenly I turn hearing mom. Without skipping a beat I plead. “Mom we have to go to the Deb Shop, they are open until nine.”
The night of the prom Sarah stands with Claire as they watch the King and Queen dance a slow dance to some mega ballad.
“Doesn’t that piss you off having to stand here watching Hal dance with Trish?” Claire says with a sharp tone.
I giggle victoriously “I am watching and when his hands rest on her ass then I’ll be pissed.”
Claire breaks out laughing and I am caught up with the levity. I never noticed where Hal’s hands were. It did not matter in the least as we danced the night away. The last dance Seger’s We’ve Got Tonight found his hands on my rear which was perfectly fine with me.
Graduation went smoothly and yes Sarah was the valedictorian and to the surprise of all who attended Claire Wilson received the full scholarship. There was murmuring in the crowd questioning the oddity but there was no challenge.
I expected this result but mom and dad were rather upset. Hal knew all about how I engineered this. He supported me all the way.
“Claire deserved it and I don’t need it.”
Gretchen said “but you applied to the same school and were accepted why aren’t you upset?”
I held my ground “Claire is my best friend she could not go without the scholarship. I can.”
Gretchen turned to Martin when out of earshot saying, “is this really our daughter?”
Martin answered, “not the one we fought with but the one we prayed for.”
A few days later it was time to make a decision. Hal and Sarah walked hand in hand slowly into the park. They had talked about nothing other than this decision endlessly since graduation.
“I am scarred“ I said as Hal tightened his grip on my hand.
There was woman sitting on a bench. The most beautiful woman either of them had ever seen. She was wearing a blue power skirt suit and there was a glow about her. The couple could feel the serenity. The woman motioned them to her. She asked them to sit beside her.
Hal spoke first, “Voice?”
The woman shook her head. “No Voice is not coming he has been reassigned. You did not expect the creator of the universe to be a woman did you? I present as male in meetings with those who do my work. It is something they expect but this is my natural appearance.” Hal smiled as both sat.
The Boss hands us each a folder. “Here are all the possible host bodies. Take your time making your selection. As I promised you will be rewarded for your tremendous work.”
I thumb through the book seeing many possibilities that would satisfy Bob. Hal as well found everything to fulfill all of Megan’s dreams. Then I spoke, “before I choose I have some questions.”
“I knew you would.” Said the Boss. “Ask your questions I will do my best to answer.”
“What happened to the original Hal and Sarah, when will they be returned to these bodies?”
The boss raises a brow before speaking softly. “You did what was asked of you. You provided a stable base for the return of the hosts. But Sarah, your host could not be salvaged.” She turned to Hal. “Because of original Sarah’s grand failure, Hal had to be placed in another form. He too has moved on.”
My eyes widen “what does that exactly mean?”
The Boss responds “You and Megan. I will use your real names now. You are now A3’s. You know what an A3 is thanks to Sarah’s grandmother. You explain it to Megan, Bob.”
I nod noting the confusion on Hal’s face. “You did not answer my question. What happens to Hal and Sarah?”
The boss takes a deep breath. “When you select your new body,” The Boss pauses, “I will sweeten the pot. In addition to the option of a new body you can choose to go straight to Heaven. You can avoid another life here.”
Hal’s eyes widen, “Heaven?” I duplicate Hal’s amazement.
The Boss finishes, “after you make you choice there will be an accident putting an end to your present forms. After all, resolutions have been established for the initial owners of these hosts. They are no longer needed. What is your answer my children?”
I consider for a minute regarding Hal. “May I speak with Hal for a moment?” The boss agrees and I lead Hal to a quiet corner. A few moments later we meet with the Boss.
I begin in my softest voice. I am talking to God after all, soft seemed appropriate.
“The last fifty years of this adventure created a special bond between Hal and I. We discussed this so he knows what I am going to say. Do you realize the living hell my mother went though?”
She clarifies it is Sarah’s mother to whom she refers. “She waged a never ending fight to rescue her daughter from the girl’s reckless actions. She placed herself in peril more than once. I, don’t know how the Creator of the universe regards my mother but to me she is a saint.”
With tears in my eyes I continue. “I cannot reward my mother’s work and unconditional love by deserting her with such pain as she will endure. Boss I must reject your offers and remain who I am.”
I turn to Hal holding out my hand, “thank you for understanding.”
Hal blinks, “you are not letting me down. As usual you are making me very proud. What makes you think I will leave you now?” He leans over kissing me.
The Boss smiles watching this exchange. “It makes my life easier. I, don’t have to come up with new identities and the Committee won’t be barking at me.”
Hal asks “what about the Voice why isn’t he here?”
The Boss shrugs, “I suppose it won’t do any harm to tell you. He finally confessed to me the reason why he changed your sex.” Both Hal and I listen intently.
“You see the Voice wanted to know what would happen if he did that. Sarah was his experiment. It was his desire to be female but retain his present memories. He wanted to know if a fully non homosexual male could survive in a female body.” The Boss shrugs “there is too much of that going around these days. It gets worse when they invent the internet.”
Both Hal and I laugh saying in unison. “The Voice is back on Earth as a girl.”
The Boss nods then issues a warning. “I agree you can stay as you are, however, as this is your last life on Earth you will pass into Heaven as you are. NO changes. I determine that forevermore you are as you are now.” The Boss waves her hands nothing seems to happen. “Look at your finger Sarah Cowles.”
“Cowles” I question then glance down to see both an engagement ring and gold wedding band. Hal is wearing a matching wedding band.
The Boss says, “you are now man an wife under my authority. Until you, go through a wedding ceremony wear the bands around your neck. One more thing the wedding better take place in a church.”
Hal and I both smile. I ask a final question. Can we reach you with the PDA?” The Boss answers, “those contraptions are gone. You talk to me whenever you want. I will listen.” Suddenly the woman was gone.
I turned to walk with Hal. “Any regrets. Are you pissed at me for sticking you with that from Megan?”
Hal squeezes Sarah’s hand laughing. “I was going to make the same offer.” He laughed again.
I crook my brows ”what.”
Hal kisses my cheek, “now you get to keep your promise.”
“What promise I quip” with a gleam in my eye.
Hal whispers as his hand slides to my hip. “The one about having the kids sometime after I figure out how this thing I’m stuck with works.”
I blink thinking ‘we just talked to God how awesome is that?” I smile evilly remembering I completely forgot to tell Hal about the witch part.’
Permission granted by author Big Closet only
1 History Lesson
The first two pages of this story will misdirect a reader into believing our story is about politics. Politics in a dysfunctional and dystopian world. As your narrator is aware a follower of this tome could be misled. Rather than present a disservice to you the reader, disclaimer is required. This is a story of self sacrifice and love. Politics of the era are included at the outset to inform of incidents leading to our character’s situation. Choices were forced upon a family causing sacrifices they came to make. In the end some are likely to conclude these were not sacrifices at all. Some would have embraced this opportunity while others would run from it.
In the year 2060 located in one strife laden corner of the world Kent Melson and his wife Eleanor gave birth to twin girls named Kristen and Sarah. The girls followed an elder brother born five years earlier. The boy named after his father grew up to be an ambitious strapping lad, one not without problems. Junior harbored enormous resentment of his father’s success. He became a product of state schools focusing upon values that opposed those held by a majority of citizens. His attitudes and actions drove a wedge between the younger Kent Melson and his family.
Kent Melson Senior rose from near poverty side stepping all roadblocks to build a large company earning a vast fortune. A fortune affronting his government, which preached fairness and equality while practicing the exact opposite. The elder Melson recognizing the shortcomings of public education through his son’s attitude shifted concerning the younger sisters. He provided a better education for his girls utilizing exclusive prep schools. He drew the line against boarding his twins out. Kristen and Sarah came home from school each night to the care of their mother. It is true the girls were daddy’s girls resulting in a deep bond one shared with their mother as well.
Eleanor Melson cherished her husband and children. In her eyes Kent Junior remained her son and she fought to help him see the light. That was not to be as Junior resisted more and more while pulling further and further away. Offered the opportunity to attend the same institution as his sisters the boy rebelled. The state is supreme regarding final say of children. Parent’s rights in the name of fairness were eroded daily. Kent Junior’s mentors convinced him by the time he finished college his loyalty belonged to the state. Family is passé, the state is supreme. No one knows what revelation or act by the supreme leader caused the breach in faith. No one knows if Junior ever bought into the propaganda in the first place. His actions suggested he had not.
The year was 2081 when Kent Junior broke into a government laboratory with two accomplices stealing genetic research. In the spirit of a tenant espoused by his teachers Kent willfully destroyed everything left behind in the lab. The Supreme Leader had long focused upon his goal of securing power by creating a civil crisis where he could claim a national take over. His second term nearly expired while he harbored no intent upon leaving. After all he spent his tenure weakening the rights of the people. The leader is about to unleash his genetically perfect followers to ensure his control.
Kent Junior learned of a place called by the resistance as simply Sanctuary House. The location though real is or was a way station. The insurgents falsely embraced a fable where upon entry one is greeted into a garden like utopia. The belief as all such fantasies prove to be is terribly wrong. Sanctuary House had been a hub providing access to different planes of existence where one could cross the divide into another world.
Sanctuary House sat deep in the woods at the end of an abandoned dirt track. The road, long ago deteriorated into a rutted impassible lane. Few vehicles could navigate resulting deep washouts and up heaved hillocks. The road’s condition is of no concern to maintenance departments as citizens long ago lost the right to own private transportation. This affect is a result of yet another war. Dear leader waged a campaign against the carbon spewing threat of oil. Raising the prices he effectively ended vehicle use forcing people into over crowded cities. It proved an effective measure to tighten controls.
The way station therefore is effectively isolated preventing intrusions. True to its designers the building appeared as an ancient Victorian two story house feeding into rumors of haunting and evil happenings. Anyone who ventured into the woods north of Saranac Lake knew enough to stay away. In reality the house was simply that a lone standing structure that once stood in a neighborhood among similar homes.
On a fateful late summer night a Junior Melson and his compatriots executed their plan. It set off a chain of events that spun out of control changing a family dynamic forever. Unknown to Kent and his associates security is ever present. The government lab may appear to be deserted on the dark night but it has eyes everywhere. This mistake proved costly to a small band of raiders who should have expected surveillance. One can forgive them as they are products of the government education system.
The trooper’s reaction is swift and without mercy. The three did not make it to safety in Sanctuary House. To be accurate, one of them did. As Kent dove through the door he did not find a promised garden. What he found is a lack of control of a revolving portal. Kent is pulled in swirling and spinning rapidly to land somewhere else. His partners were less fortunate. They no sooner set foot on a creaking porch when the drone hit. A resulting fireball evaporated everything within a hundred yards.
The troopers did not stop with the sanction of the misguided perpetrators who violated government rule. They swept down seizing the Melson family assets arresting the father, his wife and the girls. Trials in this plane are swift while punishment proves sudden and sure. Kent Senior and his wife were to be executed and the girls sentenced to become concubines of Supreme Leader. Thus ends a story of one family in this dystopian world. Or so that government thought.
Sanctuary House had been established by the council of governing witches to provide a place to meet. Each Governor is assigned to protect their side of the divide. One of these tasks is to close periodic accidental breaches. There are occasion intentional intrusions as well with the 2083 plane the most frequent violator. A Governor’s primary obligation is to not interfere with human development of the worlds. They must focus on repelling intrusions to protect the membrane separating each world.
The resulting hole in the ground nearly a half mile in circumference hardly settled when a replacement sprung up on the same site. The governing witch in charge quickly sealed the divide’s tear sealing the passage. During the trial of a distraught Melson family is in session the seven met. Audrey, the senior and president of the coven called the meeting to order. The ongoing trial plays on a wall sized screen behind her. “As you can see my sisters the evil one is again exceeding the level of common decency. It will be the final blow he strikes.”
A hush envelops the room as each sister is aware of Directive number one. ‘No Guardian may act in a such a manner as to disrupt the on going evolution of a plane in the divide.’ Audrey heard the whispers and questions of her sisters. She attracted their attention by striking her gavel. All eyes face her in silent stares. Each of the governing sisters knows better than piss Audrey Ramsey off. Audrey begins in a slow steady voice all listeners know she is serious.
“My sisters I am well aware of Directive one, however Directive two allows a reset when the President determines the safety of the worlds is threatened. This fellow has pissed me off and before the night is over a reset will take place. However, we need to relocate this family at once. Fiona, do you have the keys?”
Fiona is only one of Audrey’s sisters. All the Governors are members of the Ramsey family. Not all are equal in abilities but all are capable to govern their side of the divide. Fiona answers, “I have, one for each.”
The president accepts the keys. “I commend you Fiona for keeping your world in order. I understand this family indicated your world one-hundred-twenty years behind theirs is acceptable to them. What is the date in your technically backward place, nineteen-sixty-four?”
Fiona nods her agreement, “It is far more peaceable than Audrey’s. We have been spared that radical President Johnson who screwed everything up, while my sister had to deal with him on a daily basis. My plane is a hundred-nineteen years behind her’s. We avoided that man’s constant conflict it was one thing after another. Wars, civil unrest, propaganda, it never ended. Audrey’s world suffered one power monger after another enjoying very few periods of respite. You see the result of their progression.”
Audrey smiles, “This is not the time or the place to discuss petty differences.” Her statement settles the boiling anger in the eldest sister’s eyes. Audrey fought her instinct to defend her side by citing Directive number one. Audrey astutely shifts her focus on the current problem quickly adjourning the meeting. Each sister went back to her side of the divide.
The narrator stated earlier this story is not about politics or wars. What Audrey did in her reset is not relevant to our tale. We will save that for another time and telling. Our story is focused on two sides of the divide 2013 and Fiona’s world of 1964. An important event other than Kent Jr. escaping through a rip in the divide into the world of 2013 is the governing witch presented keys to the Melson family. One key each is presented to the parents and children, Kristen, Sarah and their younger brother five years their junior. These keys allow them to travel between worlds. Only they can activate their personal key. Transfers are limited once they make their final passage the keys evaporate. They chose Fiona’s world of 1964 because of its values.
The family has no knowledge which world Kent Jr. fled to. They have no knowledge Kent survived the drone attack. To them he is dead. It is unknown if the portal played a trick on Kent jr. or if it was simply coincidence he landed where he did. The world of 2013 is exactly the place to put his plan in action. One can assume another accident occurred randomly to seal the fates of the young Mister Melson and another poor soul. It is not difficult to understand why Kent would choose a world of 2013. The technology exists there to enable implementation of his stolen plans. It is simply not ready for his gift.
The trial of Kent Melson Senior and his family ended with their disappearance. The government could not know they fled into a dimension one hundred years earlier. They settling into a peaceful slower life found in 1964. All went well until twenty-three year old Sarah Melson married and went for a hike on her honeymoon with her new husband.
The Wraith
It is a late summer day in the northern extremes of a state known as New York. The cooler climes of this year 2013 present a satisfying sunny day. The weather has nothing to do with the mood of our subject. For him it is all economics and the forecast is anything but bright.
Wayne Huntington took the offered prospectus from Mr. Riley. He viewed the details of the technical position satisfied he could compete for the placement. The opening came exactly at the right moment. Wayne is presently broke forcing him to scramble to meet last months expenses. He struggled all summer to make ends meet ever since being downsized by Cyber Technologies. Wayne completed his graduate degree through an internship where he worked with Cyber’s security programs. His authorization allowed interaction with the higher end and experimental applications. The steady progression of excellent evaluations led him to believe a permanent position is a certainty. Facing Riley he now knew this belief is nothing more than a delusion.
“As you know,” Riley began, “We did not get the government systems contract. You are lucky not to be one of the hundreds who are about to lose a paying job.”
Wayne blinked, ‘lucky he says. What is the difference between not getting a job and losing one?’ He could only return a half smile thanking Riley for his referral. With fall rapidly approaching and his options of possible employment bleak he was forced to meet with Riley. Cyber Technologies graciously offered to provide placement assistance in a related field. He desperately needs a position, almost any will do. He swallowed his pride holding back his feeling of being used agreeing to their help. In Wayne’s mind he views Cyber as managing to get a year of free labor helping to design their successful system.
Riley smiles offering a hint of encouragement in his high pitched voice as he speaks. “Wayne with your qualifications I, don’t see how they can turn you down. Melson, at Micro Technologies can be a stickler. I understand the man is demanding and very tough. People who survive his martinet ball busting pressure often make millions. If, you succeed with his research position it is a virtual guaranteed bump on the corporate ladder.”
It is true Wayne’s career in software development lent itself to Micro’s programs in the medical technology field. They are not a competitor which enabled his old company to make the referral. Wayne stood focused on the detailed job description taking a deep breath. “You think I can garner this opening, Mr. Riley?”
Riley stands to shake Huntington’s hand gripping it firmly. “With your background and Cyber Tech’s recommendation you have an excellent chance. It is not a slam dunk as there are other people who are in a similar situation as you. Your chances are as good as any, perhaps better.”
Wayne thanked the man leaving the office with a cautionary ray of hope. Time is running out he is a thousand dollars short regarding next months obligations. He drove his ten year old compact car back to his apartment. The old brownstone house sat on a busy street on the edge of the city. It served for many years as housing for interns and other hopefuls at Cyber Technologies. It is a place for students between their degree and securing that plush job. A small one bedroom flat with cramped kitchenette, barely serviceable living room and narrow bathroom is what Wayne calls home. His single view from a small window provides a glimpse of Lake Flower a block distant.
It is his good luck he managed to secure the apartment with his internship. Now that Cyber Tech is downsizing he is no longer able to get reduced rent. Not because the landlord has made a negative decision, rather higher rent results from and end to a stipend paid by Cyber Tech. The direct transfer avoided his reporting the rent payments as income. He escaped those high taxes the government exacted. This ends with his termination from the program.
Cyber appears to be efficient with their instantly vacating the contract if the note nailed to the door is any indication. It read,
your stipend ended today June 23rd. You have one week to pay your rent in for July 1 plus one month in
advance for security, or you will be evicted. Signed Grayson Associates.
Wayne recoiled, sweat covering his brow. ‘I have barely enough to pay that. If I get the job fine, I’ll pay them but without the job I, can’t give them my last cent.’ He called the landlord begging for a few extra days. He gave him only two because the first is a Wednesday. Grayson Associates appreciated most paydays are on Fridays thereby granting a short extension. A conversation ended with a stern warning to expect finding his stuff on the curb if he fails to pay.
He ate his usual Raman noodle dinner while watching a meaningless program on the tiny television. Tomorrow he is to appear at the offices of Micro Technology to meet with a Mr. Anson. The pending interview for nine am purged his ability to concentrate on what he is watching. He gave up trying to focus on the sit com opting to take a shower instead. A restless sleep ensued, causing him to wake up exhausted.
Wayne had plenty of reason to wake up exhausted. He tossed and turned all night in a fretful sleep. He somehow became trapped in a loop of a dream climbing a mountain in snow and ice. It ended with him and some girl falling off a cliff. He deemed in his mind its roots stemmed from the pressure he is under. This dream is a reoccurring event having begun in conjunction with the announced pending layoffs a month ago. The man is within a week of being homeless. His continence bore into a round simple kitchen clock its hands signifying half seven. Another hour before he must appear at the offices of Micro Technologies. He fingered his cup swirling the liquid watching it seek a level as he is lost in his thoughts. Finally he exits in search of a job.
Wayne sat surveying the room making a mental note of three other people present. A short balding man sat across a table from him reading a magazine. He thought, ‘he does not look like a research assistant prospect.’ To his left, a middle aged woman fidgeted with a ball of yarn in her lap. Chairs consisted of those faux leather types made to emulate wing chairs. Clearly, the company attempts to signal success. Seating is arranged in groupings of five forming a pair of semi circles opposing each other. An ornate maple table with fine grain etchings sat in the center. Thick pile carpeting in earthen tones is both soft and warm to the touch. A receptionist’s desk, placed a comfortable distance away is facing the opening. The chair to his left is empty while the next is occupied. None of these people appeared to be of the type to be waiting an interview for the position he sought. The third person is one seat removed on his left. Wayne had watched the young woman enter the room shortly after him. She had exited from one of the inner offices with every eye focused upon her. Wayne noted the receptionist displayed a hint of distain while pretending respect. ‘That girl is no competition for my job.’ He relaxed after giving her the once over.
The once over focused upon studying perfect legs, legs he new well right down to dimple behind her right knee. Sarah he thought but he never met anyone named Sarah. At least no one by that name he can recall. She is a perky brunette perhaps a college student or recent graduate. Wayne guessed she is twenty-two at most. Her cream silk blouse, white cardigan sweater and delicate fine gold necklace suggest high ticket prices. The leather straight skirt resting well above her lap suggests something else. He could not help notice the finely toned legs enhanced by sheer hose. He is back to those legs again distracted by that dimple. ‘The one I tried to remove once.’ Where in hell did that thought come from? Her light brown almost honey colored hair is feathered forward hiding her brow under silken bangs. That too caught his attention. Disturbed by how this affects him he distracted himself with her eyes. Wayne watched as her emerald eyes returned a piercing gaze toward the receptionists. The message received transmitted don’t mess with me.
Still fifteen minutes or so before his appointment Wayne fretted over his early arrival. His nature is to worry about every detail. As his mother always told him, never be late for important meetings. He tried to avoid appearing nervous averting his gaze to not make eye contact. The pretty woman suddenly leans toward him speaking in a whisper. “You, don’t look like you belong to the freaks.”
Her comment startled him so much so he blushed. Curious over what she meant he tried to process her term, ‘freaks’ internally. Wayne could not help his subtle glance toward the overweight slightly unkempt man to his left. The girl noticed and smiled enhancing those green pools of hers seemingly to dance in deviltry. “I didn’t think so. You must be here to see to see Harvey.”
Wayne blinked not sure what to make of this, he whispered “Harvey? What are the freaks as you call them here for?” His eyes made contact with the girl’s hypnotic gaze. He felt a jolt of familiarity as if they met before. He took a deep breath, ‘don’t you dare try that line.’
“Harvey Anson, he is the martinet in employment. The freaks are waiting for their program instructions. There are more of them in the alcove.” She tossed her head toward a far corner Wayne had not noticed. She continued in a soft voice. “Glorified guinea pigs those guys in medical testing are always dreaming up ways to torture people. They are the puppets of Enos Slaughter.” She giggled before adding, “Slaughter is the perfect name for what he does. The boss here gives the warped experimenters a free hand until they go over the top.” She emitted another silent laugh. The girl suddenly averted her eyes directing them toward the front desk. “Jane how much longer?”
‘Jane, the receptionist’s name must be Jane.’ Wayne thought as he watched her turn from her typing to regard the woman. Wayne smiled determining the receptionists must believe the young woman is a bother. ’The woman is someone Jane is forced to deal with,’ he thought. Jane sighed before answering with a dismissive, “Not much longer. He is wrapping up.” Wayne narrowed his gaze at the woman’s desk scanning until he saw the triangular block of wood. A block shaped like those letter holders provided in Scrabble games except its color is walnut. A yellow inscribed etching spelled Jane.
His powers of observation are reinforced proving he deduced Jane’s name correctly, built up his confidence. Now daring to expand his mental gymnastics sensing a rare opportunity to flirt, he offered to the brunette a comment in response to what the woman said earlier. In a whisper, “I take it you are not with the freaks.”
She expresses an almost bored elongated sigh before answering. “I’m Sarah Melson my father is CEO here. Kent Melson, you must have heard the name. That is who I am here to see. I have another month or so before my bothersome purgatory demands my time. Daddy wanted me to come in so he could show off one of his new toys. Since I want him to pony up for a new car I have to humor. My obligations would have been finished this past spring but last year, well let‘s just say it was not good.”
He introduced himself believing it only fair as he now knows her name. His antenna rose unexpectedly producing a frightening thought. ‘How in hell did I guess her name?’ He felt foolish beginning by stuttering, obviously caused by that thought. “I’m Sar err Wayne Huntington in search of employment.” He flushed hoping she did not catch his stupid beginning. ‘I almost said Sarah. What is it with that name?’
Wayne stood being saved from his blunder when called by the receptionists. He turned to Sarah, “Good luck with that.” She gave him an odd glance with a knowing smile. He stepped away hearing the girl respond, “Same to you.” He reaches for the door to Anson’s office when he hears the girl calling him. Wayne turns to face her.
“I have a tip that might come in handy. Harvey is one of those hyper little guys who can never make a decision. He will stall you by giving you some crap about running it by the boss first. Then he will schmooze sucking up a bit while raving endlessly about your experience. The he will fawn over how good your application looks. What he does next is file it in his drawer spending weeks trying to figure out who to pick. Dad will freak out calling Anson. I can hear him yelling now. Harvey, I need that new programmer did you find anyone yet? Harvey will panic and call in whoever’s file is on his desk at the time. Usually it is the guy who just left.”
Wayne offers a bewildered gaze at the striking young woman. “What can I do about that?”
Sarah grins, “Have you heard about project 67?” She does not wait for an answer pushing forward. “The program is diving them nuts. Problem after problem is reported in Scientific American. Check the latest issue if, don’t believe me. Tell Anson you have the solution and will give it to my father. The solution is a new software program by Atlantis Corp named Trident. That software will make all the difference. It will get you the job, guaranteed.” Sarah turns to walk down the hall.
As his eyes followed Jane to the office door he thought of the pertinent beauty. ‘From what she said I am guessing spoiled brat college student. Not to mention she is nuts. Why do I recall that freaking dimple so clearly?’ He shrugged continuing his walk to the office. He watches Jane project an evil eye in the girl’s direction.
Jane directed her gaze at the girl not hiding her discomfort while clearing her throat. She nods to a door at the end of the hall, “You can go in now.” Sarah stands smoothing her skirt while offering a forced smile, “Thanks.”
He reached for Anson’s door to knock when his alarm buzzed. Wayne shook the cobwebs from his foggy head noting it is eight AM. It is just another nutty dream he’s had a series of them lately. He stares again at the clock in disbelief. He had been dreaming all along. The meeting had not taken place and he did not spend a half hour talking to a nutty brunette. He did not meet with Mr. Anson. ‘That dream was so convincing I swear it was not a dream. That young woman looked familiar. Obviously, I never knew her. She must be a composite of all the girls I’ve known.’ He shrugged it off as typical of crazy stress filled dreams he has been having lately. Wayne opens his closet to find his suit neatly pressed as is the shirt he wore to the employment interview. He scratches his head convinced he is going crackers. Convinced by the still clean clothes hanging there he really did dream the waiting room scene. Wayne downed the remainder of caramel liquid in the coffee pot. Even a full carafe seemed not enough.
In spite of his haggard feeling Wayne looked reasonably well as he entered the towering office building. His six foot youthful frame is adorned by a blue suit from a low end department store, Walmart to be exact. He could never afford The Men’s Warehouse even if they feature a never ending three for one sale. True it is a knock off mimicking expensive designer suits. He doubts it can fool anyone but it is presentable at least. His short dark brown hair and bright blue eyes signaled he met the profile of the average Micro Tech associate. Wayne is not one to be sought out by beautiful women, though he could be. His looks are better than average but his dedication to career never allowed the time it takes to pursue adventures. He entered the reception area with high hopes and great reservations.
Upon entering the reception area Wayne noticed the front office looked exactly as it did in his dream. It should have bothered him because he never set foot inside this place before. Wayne stood speechless staring at the reception desk thinking, ‘I have never been here before. I hope that woman’s name is not Jane.’ As he turned from the desk he saw the same semi circular chair arrangement and the same faces with one exception. Sarah Melson is not sitting there, that revelation upset him most of all. If any part of this dream were to prove real that is the portion he’s pick right down to the dimple. ‘Here I go again obsessing about a dimple. Even the woman with the ball of yarn is here.’
The receptionists broke his bewildered musing. “You must be Mr. Huntington, Mr. Anson is waiting you can go right into his office. No you are not late his meeting ended early. He told me to send you in when you arrived. It is the door to your right. Wayne almost said, ‘I know,’ but caught himself.
Sitting as big as life, the wooden placard on her desk in bold script screamed, Jane Bronson. Wayne wanted to turn and start running escaping from this nightmare. He relaxed noting no temptress named Sarah is anywhere to be seen. Again his countenance betrayed his disappointment. He wanted to see Sarah again. He broke his musing questioning, ‘who in hell is Sarah?’
Anson is standing beside his desk stacking a pile of loose computer print out sheets when Wayne entered the room. The man is short in stature about five and a half feet weighing not much. His thin short blond hair is combed forward to hide a receding hair line. The granny glasses illustrated a typical geek image. His motions suggested he is a man who cannot sit still. Wayne guessed Anson is in his mid to late thirty’s suffering from ADHD. Before Wayne can speak Anson motions him to a chair. A quick shake of the hands ends as he lightens to sit. The man begins his rapid fire delivery before Wayne can catch his breath.
Wayne never experienced anything quite like this. He hardly got to say a word as Anson did all the talking. He presented actual excitement over Wayne’s resume and references. “Mr. Huntington may I call you Wayne? Your papers are impressive, I am certain you can handle the analysts’ duties the job requires.”
Huntington almost flushed as he listened to the man. His hopes are rising as the interview progresses to the later stages. “Wayne I must say you are the most qualified that I talked to. You would start at two maybe three thousand per week with possible stock options. Of course all medical expenses are covered. All that needs to be done is to have my boss sign off. You should be hearing within a couple of weeks.”
Before Wayne attempted to stand he thought, ‘the guy is hyper. He can’t make a decision. I am more than qualified and he fawned over me like I am the second coming. Now he has to run it by the boss and wait two or more weeks. Who is hell is Sarah Melson? Does Kent Melson actually run this place? Should I do what the girl in my dream said to do? No that’s nuts, that is really, really nuts. What the hell do I have to lose?’ Wayne opens his mouth.
“Mr. Anson, pardon me but I have been reading up on your current issues with Project 67. Scientific American has an article in the latest issue. I designed software for Cyber Technologies to address exactly what you are facing. Based upon my research I can fix your problem with a new program and have you up and running in no time. Would you like to discuss this with Mr. Melson before I leave? It may save you weeks and countless millions.”
Anson appeared shocked at the brash comments this young man presented. He does not know whether to call security or humor him. ‘I’d throw him out but if he is on the level Melson will bounce my ass in a heartbeat.’ Anson hesitates, rolls his eyes upwards, says a little prayer and calls the boss. True to form, Harvey passed the decision to higher ups.
Kent Melson appeared in an instant. “Mr. Huntington is it? What Harvey tells me is rather outlandish. I looked over your resume which indicates you are anything but outlandish. I want to hear about your program.”
Wayne is now on auto pilot having no idea if this program will do the trick. He does know he is a damn good programmer and he has as good a chance anyone to figure it out. “I have studied your software issues. Quite frankly the program you are working with cannot handle your application. Atlantis has an innovative program called Trident that should be just what you need. I shouldn’t reveal this because there is nothing to stop you from buying the program and hope your staff can figure it out. I expect as Scientific American says you are a straight shooter you won’t do that.”
Melson smiles, “I don’t know if you are full of shit or not. Cyber says you are the best they had. That is good enough for me. Riley is not a guy who praises people without just cause. Tell you what, if you work your magic not only do you have a job in three figures you will get one hell of a bonus. Be here at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Anson will meet you at the front desk and show you to your office. Trident will be waiting for you.”
Huntington stepped outside not knowing if he should be elated or terrified. ‘I began the day with a dream about a beautiful girl. There is nothing abnormal about that but what followed should be a warning. How could everything that happened appear in real life and the girl the most important part be absent? What she advised is what got me the job and she had that dimple. That is another confusing thing because I have no idea what that dimple represents.’
Wayne drove the several blocks to his apartment excited he has the job. On the way noticing his tank is almost empty he pulled into a gas station. There he spent his last ten dollars for a few gallons. ‘It looks like I’m walking tomorrow. All I have left in the bank will cover the rent next week. Either that or leave me enough money to bail this town’ his thoughts are understandable. He almost has a job and he is not wasting the sum of his worth on rent when he has no prospect to pay the next month. ‘I will wait to pay the rent until I know more. No point in spending the last of my money I may need it.’ He is confident he can work out their software issue. He still worries questioning why he is so confident when the company’s experts failed. After nuking a TV dinner Wayne sits on the sofa to watch a movie. The title scares him, Sarah’s Key. ‘It is about the holocaust and too damn depressing. Yet again Sarah comes up. What message am I missing?’ He changes the channel for an even lamer program, all too soon he falls asleep. He only drank three beers though it still made him exceptionally drowsy.
On Tuesday Anson met Wayne in the lobby patting him on the back while escorting him to a rather nice office. There on the desk is the promised Trident. He carefully opened the package to find a PCI express card. ‘What in hell?’ Software programs do not come on PCI cards. He shrugged installing the hardware and loading the software disk. He is amazed at the result. At five PM the young man is confused but delighted having found the problem with the program easily. Melson spoke to him promising a bonus in the morning and a brand new job. He leaves the building almost bumping into Sarah at the revolving door. The girl is carrying a small bundle appearing quite satisfied.
“Wayne,” she chirps, “by your expression it went well.”
He nods admitting it went very well. He finished with, “Did you get your car?”
The girl beams suggesting she did just that. They stood talking for a few minutes with Sarah ending the conversation. “I have to go, see you around.” He watched her focused at those amazing legs almost not hearing her comment.
At the same moment Sarah turned Wayne began walking down the sidewalk. Due to the high cost of gasoline and his current financial status he decided to walk the mile or so unconvinced this morning will be successful. Now he regretted not driving the car. He had only taken a couple of steps when a downpour ensued. Sarah ducked under the buildings overhang and called to Wayne. “Get back here out of the rain.”
Wayne turned to see the girl waving to him and he sheepishly rushed back. “I did not expect this.” There she stood wearing an orange cardigan sweater over a white blouse tucked into a black short skirt. He stared shamelessly enjoying the view impervious to the drenching he is receiving.
Sarah smiled, “You should have, it rains almost every day here. Where are you going? Stop your drooling and get over here out of the rain”
The man broke his gaze at the woman’s sharp rebuke. It was a rebuke wasn’t it or a come on? He can’t quite figure it out beyond sensing danger. He rushed toward the brunette escaping the rain though feeling like a moth drawn to a flame. With a quizzical expression he finally answered muttering, “Home.”
“I will give you a ride. It gives me a chance to show off my new toy. Daddy had it delivered to the parking garage. We can get into the garage by going through the building.”
He followed her inside thinking, ‘anything is better than this downpour.’ An elevator off the main entry room led down to the underground parking garage. Sarah pressed her tiny remote to listen for the sound of the beep and see flashing lights. She spotted the car several yards to her left. A brand new bright red BMW convertible. “That’s it, just what I wanted. It looks sharp doesn’t it.”
Wayne shook his head observing the fifty thousand dollar car. Reagan wasted no time jumping in pushing the passenger door open. “Where do you live?”
He sat turning to view the young woman who looked like she belonged in this car. He averts his gaze upward toward those eyes answering sheepishly, “1021 Toliver Street.”
“You won’t believe this but it is on my way.”
She squealed the wheels pulling out of the garage causing Wayne to brace himself against the dash. The oncoming tractor trailer came to a skidding halt as Sarah stepped on the gas. Wayne is abruptly pulled back into the seat when the car lurches forward narrowly avoiding a green SUV. The Beamer moved into high speed ahead of blowing horns and curse words they did not hear. “Don’t, you look before pulling into traffic?”
Sarah laughed chirping, “What’s the fun in that? By the way dad is happier than a pig in shit. He said it took you awhile but all you had to do was write a line of code in Trident. All systems fired right up.”
Wayne flushes bashfully admitting, “It was something simple causing the problem. It always is and you find it after you tried everything else. The program they were using could not transfer the data fast enough. They were getting buffer overloads. You know, when overloads occur the program crashes. You have to start over again. It took awhile but since Trident has independent memory it is easy to increase the cache.”
“Whatever,” Sarah interrupts, “I know nothing about that geek stuff.”
It took minutes to arrive at 1021 Toliver. Wayne noticed the bemused expression worn by Sarah as she viewed the old brownstone. “Is that it? You got the job now you have to move. First impressions actually count you know.”
Wayne did not know what to make of this young woman. He had an irrepressible urge to chastise her while another underlying thought suggested the opposite. Instead of a sharp retort he stifled the urge ignoring it all together. He looked at the beauty sitting next to him. “Thanks for the ride.”
As he stepped out of the car, Sarah quipped, “What, you are not going to invite me in?”
He presented a long, are you shitting me stare. ’Her car costs more than my apartment and everything in it. I am tempted but I will pass.’ “That is not a good idea it has been a trying day.”
Her emerald pools blazed revealing anger. Sarah’s answer however, repressed any sign of her thoughts. “I know what you mean; my day was a lot like yours. You do have hope though more than I can say for myself. There will be another time.” She laughed as she shifted the car in drive peeling away with another squeal followed by more angry horn blowing. Wayne watched the car blow out of sight. ’The less I see of her the better. That girl is trouble.’
Once again Wayne is jarred awake by the alarm its red digits flashing Tuesday 6 AM. “Holy shit that was another dream, I haven’t figured out crap yet. I thought I aced the problem, scored both a job and a bonus.” He rushes through his shower, coffee and a bowl of cereal then runs out the door.
Wayne arrived at the office at seven and just like the dream Anson met him in the lobby patting him on the back while escorting Wayne to a rather nice office. There on the desk is the promised Trident. He sat there worried as Trident installed. He had never heard of a software program being built on a PCI-Express Card before. ‘Not true.’ He thinks while laughing, ‘I saw one in the wee hours during a dream and know it works.’ According to the box it has 2 gigs of ram on its own processor just like a video card. “The fucking card even has a fan.” He said out loud. Before beginning to explore this program he rocked back in his stuffed leather chair. ‘These dreams with Reagan are not right. Her advice in the first dream scored me this job. Now she tells me I fixed it because the problem was due to buffer overloads. Previous programs could not handle the processing speed required. She does not know about geek stuff but she is the one who told me how I fixed it. She is the one who located Trident. Come to think of it I never heard of Atlantis Software. Then again there is a bonus. My dreams tell me how the next day goes; lousy day and I stay home.’
Huntington swivels in his chair staring out the window becoming frightened. He turns quickly picking up the phone calling information requesting Atlantis’ number. ‘No such listing.’ An exhaustive internet search found nothing as well. Wayne examined the packaging nothing there either. He buzzes Harvey Anson. “Mr. Anson, where did Mr. Melson get the Trident program?”
Harvey’s answer nearly knocks him out of his chair. “He thought you ordered it. The program arrived by messenger a half hour after you left.”
Wayne cautiously activates the program clicking on the Project 67 file and Trident loads up. The purpose is to run DNA samples breaking down each individual file into its basic components measuring the intricacies of each gene. Then compare one sample to other identifying differences between samples. He told Sarah or did she tell him about buffer overruns? ‘What did she say I did to counter that? Right, increase the cache and write a line of code ordering the program to enter over clocking similar to video cards. The analytical demands are intense requiring increased memory and speed that is provided by the independent chips on the card processor. Wait a minute; I’m the one who told her that.’
Within minutes Melson bounds into Wayne’s office. “You did it by God you did it. Welcome aboard son. We will have your name on the door by day’s end. That bonus will be a good one. Take the rest of the day off. See you at eight in the morning. I will introduce you to the staff. I must say they are truly amazed.”
Wayne basked in his success as he stared out of the office window. Sitting in the leather swivel chair he thought, ‘check that not an office window, my office window. What did he say, six figures plus a bonus?’ The window glazed turning into a mirror. There he sat wearing a bra and panties with someone brushing his hair. Or should it be referred to as her hair? It looks exactly like Sarah’s only a touch lighter. The man kisses the back of her neck, “I love you Sarah.” He lifts her up effortlessly as she looks into his beautiful eyes she sees nothing else. She does not need to as she melts upon feeling his long awaited penetration. The release is nothing short of amazing interrupted by a voice. “Hey, good job today Wayne.”
The window is back along with the cityscape below. Wayne shakes his head relieved he is in this chair that the job is not another dream. Sarah and her encounter is the random vision he wants nothing to do with. He finally answers the voice. “Thanks, it was quite a challenge.” The man introduced himself as Bill something or another. Wayne is still shaken to hard to have processed everything. Bill rushes toward the door, “I just wanted to say welcome to the team.” He is gone as quickly as he arrived.
The confused man thought constantly about how that program magically landed in the office without anyone ordering it. The company to the last man believes Wayne placed the order. Not a one of them questioned how he could have taken it on himself to so such a thing. They were so happy that after many months of failure Wayne saved the day. ‘That would be terrific if it were true. At some point somebody is going to ask that question. I better have an answer. Perhaps I should ask Sarah.’ He laughed as he walked into his apartment determined to find out what he can about Atlantis.
Sitting at his computer dedicated to a deeper internet search, he fired up his computer. Long after the sun went down he found out a lot about the lost continent but nary a word involving software. He learned even less about the mysterious Sarah and the unseen man.
Teasing
Wayne found himself walking aimlessly along the semi residential neighborhood street. He does not understand why but enjoys walking with no objective in mind. He passed a small pond in a city park when a thought struck him. ‘I remember when we were little Kristen and I would come to a place like this. She would tease me relentlessly about my dimple. She’d raise her leg laughing saying that’s a difference between us.’ Wayne froze, ‘what the fuck.’ Snapping out of his fog he turned onto a short side street. Within a few paces a quaint coffee shop came into view deciding on a whim to step inside. Upon entry he saw to his surprise Sarah sitting alone at a corner table. She waved him over to her alcove.
Sarah is blowing softly over her cup pursing her lips in a temping pose. “Join me the coffee is great. A disclaimer is required, it is hot.”
Wayne sat shrugging dismissively as Sarah filled a cup from a carafe on the table. He never inquired how a second cup happened to be there. He sipped from a mug sitting across from the woman enjoying the taste. “I’ve never been in here before. I’ve walked by it many times but never came in. Yes the coffee smells and taste great.”
Sarah leaned forward allowing her thin cami to reveal more skin making Wayne a bit uncomfortable. He averted his eyes as she spoke. “I hear your name is on the office door. You made daddy very happy.”
Wayne sipped his coffee listening to the girl go on about little or nothing. She broke his train of thought with what he determined to be a impertinent question. “How bad did you need that job? I‘m asking,” she teased “Simply because I am nosey as hell. I hear you really impressed them.”
He blinked not knowing how to respond. ‘It is none of this woman’s business. Lighten up she is a spoiled brat that likes to tease. Christ she is a pro at it. She did help me get the job even if she does not know it, or does she?’ Wayne broke from his thoughts to answer, “How would you know that? I mean really you must have something better to do than ask personal questions. Yes things were getting tight and I needed to pay my rent. How do you know so much about what happened today?”
Sarah issued a pouting smile suggesting an almost apology. “Don’t get your self all excited. I am just curious that‘s all. I told you my old man is a big shot there. I thought I’d put in a good word for you that’s all. Daddy told me when I asked about you. I mentioned we met in the waiting room and I thought you were better than the gang sitting in there.” Sarah lowered her eyes acting contrite. Giving Wayne the idea she is shamelessly flirting. “I did not mean anything by it. I’m just interested, I never recommended anyone before. I wanted to know if you did well.”
The girl stood and suddenly leaned forward placing her slender fingers against his cheek. With one brush of her nails she withdraws quickly acting as if her action never occurred. “Keep the faith everything is going great.”
He excused himself feeling an urge to escape. He is torn conflicted between a desire to take this woman right here on the table or one screaming run like hell because she terrifies him. At the same time he is certain she will die before hurting him. Wayne has no idea where these strong feelings come from. He just knows he has to go. Her expression when he makes his excuse transmits she knows exactly what he is thinking.
Wayne found himself walking aimlessly to clear his head. He had been lost trying to figure out this girl. She is like nothing he ever encountered before. After walking for fifteen minutes the man discovers he is standing before the entrance to Micro Tech. Curiosity insisted upon viewing his name on that office door. Glancing at his watch noting it is four-thirty he backs away thinking, ‘God Wayne stop acting like a high school kid you will see it in the morning.’ He turned from the entrance almost bumping into Sarah yet again.
“Hi any word yet?” Sarah is wearing a big smile as she gazes at Wayne. “I should rephrase my question. What I meant to say is have you taken a picture of your door? We know you have the job. The pay is six figures with a bonus to follow. Did daddy say how much? I get it; all you are doing now is waiting for the paint to dry on the door.”
Wayne stares at the girl not knowing what to make of her. She has a knack for appearing out of nowhere exactly at the wrong time. He smiles uttering, “No, don’t you have anything better to do than hang around here?”
Sarah laughs dismissively. “It is quite boring to be truthful. Classes don’t start for a few weeks and none of my friends are back yet. What are you doing? After saving the organization’s ass today you don’t need to hang around. Don’t you have anything better to do? While you are thinking about it, your answer no suggest two things. Do you mean no there is no word yet or no you have not taken a picture of the door?”
Wayne stares at her with a disbelieving gaze. ‘What the hell is it with this woman?’ “No I have not taken a picture of the door. I could ask you the same question. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Sarah smiles brightly, “I will give you a ride home. That should keep me occupied because you are right I am bored.”
Wayne in no mood for another demolition derby ride shakes his head. He tells Sarah he will walk. “I need to clear my head. There is no hurry to get back to that flat.”
Surprisingly she did not give him an argument and simply said “later” to disappear inside the building. Wayne slowly retraced his steps walking back to the apartment. When he reached the front stoop his landlord is standing there wearing a wide smile. “Huntington it is your lucky day. I don’t know what you did but it is your lucky day.”
He hands Wayne a rent receipt marked paid for this month and next. “You are good for the next thirty days. Take my advice and keep that lady happy. Some guys get all the breaks.”
Wayne stood motionless staring at the two thousand dollar receipt. ’What the hell?’ He rushed up to his room flung open the door dashing inside. His cell phone is laying on the floor blinking. He picks it up to find one message on it. “Call me.” It is Sarah’s voice. That is when he woke up.
He found himself lying on his sofa the computer is in sleep mode on the coffee table. He stretches trying to shake the cobwebs clearing his vision. He leans toward the table jarring the mouse. Wayne uses a mouse with his laptop. His stubby fingers always finds the touch pad too difficult to control. ‘That’s true I have stubby fingers and my nails are long and thin.’ That random thought sobered the man. He holds out his hand staring at his nails, ‘just like any other guy’s’ The screen grows bright featuring a search engine page with Atlantis listings. ‘I never did find anything on that company.’
The clock informs him he has no time to continue this useless search. He closes the lid turning toward the shower. Wayne stops quickly trying to sort through events. ‘These crazy dreams have me confused. Did I really get that job or was that a dream as well? There is only one way to find out.’ He thought as he fingered his cell phone. Recalling his office desk phone seeing its extension 325 he dialed Micro’s main number. Shifting through the menu he punched in 325 to hear ringing. It rang four times with his own voice replying. “You have reached Wayne Huntington. I am not at my desk Please leave a message I will get back to you.” He smiled entering the shower. ‘At least that much is real.’
On his way out the door, Wayne picked up his lap top seeing a folded paper on the floor. It lay there a few inches from the apartment door. Curiously he picked it up almost stuffing it into his pocket without looking at it. Something in the back of his head told him to read it. His eyes flew open upon seeing a receipt for two thousand paying his July rent and a last month deposit. He sat in the closest chair he could find sweat forming on his brow. ‘That was a dream! I fell asleep dreaming that coffee shop bullshit with Sarah and when I walked home the landlord met me with the receipt. I have got to get to the bottom of this. Come to think of it every interaction with that girl has proved to be in a dream’ He narrows his brows as another wrinkle forms. ‘Is she real or imagined?’
He knocked on Sully’s door not worried if he wakes the apartment manager or not. He needs an answer and he needs it now. The middle aged man with unkempt hair combed over a bald spot answers. Wearing a bathrobe Brian Sullivan appears irritated. “It’s an ungodly hour to be rousting me what the hell do you want? Make it quick.”
Wayne, noticing the man’s agitation wasted no time pressing his question. “Sully, you said last night, take my advice and keep that lady happy.” Wayne caught himself remembering his purpose for bothering Sully. Uncertain what is a dream and what is reality he added, “Remember you said that when you handed me the receipt?” Wayne froze expecting Sully to come back with something like what the hell are you talking about?
Sully nods, “What of it? If you ask me it is solid advice. When a classy lady fronts two grand for a guy’s rent he’d be a fool to do anything else.”
Huntington is not a fool and isn’t about to ask who the lady is. He frames his question carefully. “That’s why I’m here, to keep her happy. You know how it is with women. They always nag you by claiming you don’t pay enough attention, bla, bla, bla. Well she got into it on the phone and I told her I do pay attention. She asked me if that’s true describe what she was wearing yesterday afternoon. I told her I had to work and did not have time to get into it right now. I promised I would tell her later. Can you help me out?”
“Is that all?” He rubs his chin. “You are talking about the brunette about twenty-three years old. Who else would you be talking about? Like you, have a harem lining up to pay your bills. What was she wearing? Ah legs, lots of leg sticking out from under a white skirt wrapped in black hose.” Brian looks up at the ceiling dramatically as if recalling the woman in his mind’s eye. “A yellow silk blouse, one of those sleeveless ones,” he again looks up with a broad smile recalling, “She showed a lot of skin. It had those narrow straps about the size of a string. Whatever they call em’. Sarah made an impression on Sully as Wayne knew she would.
Wayne grins, “Was she wearing a sweater?”
“No thank God; it gave me a good view of her, well she does not have much.” He laughs, but a babe like that can get away with it. What is she a tennis player or runner?”
“Both and she can kick my ass.” Wayne thanked the man then ran off to work. ‘At least she is real and I am not going completely nuts.’
He walked through the reception area to see Jane smiling. “Good morning Mr. Huntington.” He greeted the woman returning hers. “Good Morning, Jane” he replies. He enters the hallway beyond the oaken door. Another hand cut highly polished door plainly featured a plaque with his name on it stood boldly. Again shaking his confusion he entered his office. It is not a corner suite with expansive city views. It is not a bland cubicle either a modest office offers upscale appointments. A wood grained large desk fronted a leather cushioned swivel chair. A window overlooks a parking lot belonging to a supermarket next door while lacking any sweeping view of Lake flower. ‘You can’t have everything,’ he thought.
His e-mail is blinking rapidly signaling he has several messages. The first read simply, "Buzz me, Melson." Every employee worth his salt knows you answer the boss first. A voice answers on the initial ring. It is Kent Melson.
“Welcome aboard Wayne your work yesterday is impressive. I will send Mason over with a packet for you. There are a couple of problems I hope you can resolve. It is self explanatory. Get back to me if you have any questions.” He hung up before Wayne could get a word in. The next is from Anson scheduling a team meeting at ten. He replied via hitting the confirm button. His cell is now buzzing a text message landed.
He reaches for his phone but is interrupted by his secretary. “Sir, Bill Mason is here.” Inez enters the room ahead of Bill. She pours two cups of coffee squirting liberal doses of cream and two spoons of sugar handing it to Bill, “There you are Mister Mason.” Without skipping a beat she hands a cup with one dab of cream without sugar. “I took the liberty of finding out how you take your coffee, Mister Huntington.” She smiles swirling her short skirt as she leaves.
Wayne had barely gotten the words out, “Send him in,” when Inez had the coffee poured and a well dressed man wearing an expensive suit handed him the package quickly sitting down; cup in his hand thanking Inez. Wayne blinked, ‘I’m getting slow.’
“Huntington it is nice to meet you. Here is the project 67 review. The boss insists everyone have a hard copy. He is computer adverse afraid hackers can steal everything. That was great work, where in hell did you find that program?”
Wayne smiles reciting the lie he worked out to supply cover. He should not have to do something like that but he can’t say he has no idea. That Scientific American article mentioned nothing about Atlantis or Trident. He has to press Sarah on that one. “Oh that, a couple geek friends from college dropped out of school a few years ago landing in Silicone Valley. It is something they developed. I heard about it and the program sounded like the answer to your problem.”
Bill Mason shook Wayne’s hand again saying, “Awesome job, welcome aboard see you at ten.”
Finally getting to the text message Wayne read, “Call me,” Sarah did not say her name assuming correctly he’d recognize her voice and number. “Do not use the company phone or computer. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Before reading the review he punched out Sarah’s number on his cell. “Sarah, what’s all the secrecy?”
The girl listens to the anticipated question answering without hesitation. “Father has a rule that is etched in stone. I watched him chisel it myself. No employee shall go near his daughter. Instant firing is the result, no excuses. I thought I’d warn you it is the least I can do. Don’t even mention my name in the office. Jane hates me, Bill is no fan. Well he wants to get under my skirt. He’s the jealous type. You get what I mean. That brings me to why I wanted you to call. I know he gives employees a lunch hour. I have a reservation at Cattleman’s on route eighty-six. Do you know it?”
Wayne blinked, ‘first she warns me no fraternization with the boss’ daughter then invites me out.’ “I have never been there but have driven by it many times, why?”
“Those reservations are for noon today can you join me? I owe you a meal even if it is lunch. How do you like your steak, or are you a salad man?”
Wayne can’t help but laugh, “Wait a minute, you warn me to stay away then invite me out for lunch. What gives do you have it in for me or something?”
“It’s a long story I will tell you at lunch if you dare. I definitely don’t have it in for you.” She pauses wondering if she dares finish. ‘Oh what the hell, It will tell me a lot and I do not have the time to play around’ “It just the opposite.” Rather than give Wayne the chance to process what she just said she keeps talking. “It is a test, I’m fishing to see if you have balls or a pussy.”
“Wayne cannot help but laugh out loud, “Balls or a, perhaps someday you will find out. I like my steak medium and prime rib at that. See you at noon.”
“Really you promise to show me which it is, I like graphic visuals far better than words.” Sarah hung up exhaling slowly. “I am right, so far.”
A long highly polished conference table reflected its oaken grain as a large room is bathed in sunshine. At least fourteen dark tan almost brown deep cushioned wing chairs provide places for executives and honored guest. At the head of the table sits a tall well muscle toned Kent Melson. At he opposite end is a short stout graying scientist named Enos Slaughter. Others in the room were few only Anson and Mason are present.
Bill Mason is the lead designer for programming project 67. He is surprisingly young appearing for one holding a senior position. Wayne is knowledgeable of the movers and shakers in the computer industry but until today he never heard of Bill Mason. Mason presented as one pictures when thinking of a golf pro or gym trainer. He is the exact physical opposite of Doctor Slaughter, the Geneticist. Wayne took one look at the man and thought of a smart remark Sarah made on day one. ‘Slaughter is the perfect name for what he does.’ Her comment about freaks also came to mind.
Wayne had spent his morning reviewing the project paper provided him by Mason. The objective sounded to him like something out of science fiction. He suddenly understood why Sarah used the terms glorified guinea pigs and freaks. Wayne could not help but notice impatience written on the face of Kent Melson.
Melson’s eyes followed Inez Hernendez as she served coffee and bagels to each committee member. Wayne could not blame him as the woman moved gracefully with her long waist length dark hair flowing. Her short skirt, perfectly unblemished olive skin with minimal make up is likely to draw stares from any man. Huntington did not think it was lust driving Melson, no he thought, ‘This man is obsessed with this project. I have seen this look before.’
“That will be fine Inez,” Melson’s dismissal though subtle spoke volumes with his use of only five words.
Inez smiled as she exited the room. Melson spoke at once. ”Now for a review gentlemen, where are we Enos?”
Slaughter swiveled in his chair to face his boss speaking in clipped terms. “We took a giant stride with Mr. Huntington’s effort. May I take a moment to commend you sir and welcome you?” He did not wait for an answer or recognition though he may have noticed Wayne’s wry smile. Immediately directing his eyes to Melson Enos sifted his papers. “As you know we are working to separate the components of the genomes in the DNA chain. Our task is to replicate chromosomes creating an artificial double helix. Just today I was able to take the 23rd chromosome from one of my subjects and blend it with another subject. We are close to being able to engineer a complete set. Again thanks to the program provided by Mr. Huntington.”
Mason noted that even with the work of Trident they cannot data mine a visual of what a reengineered complete DNA structure would look like. According to Mason they are a long way from finding the protocols to create such a picture. He went on to discuss progress made by his team.
This is way over Wayne’s head. He smiled thinking of something funny. ‘It sounds like they are trying to recreate Cylon downloads.’ Wayne may have thought it funny but Melson caught his expression. Wayne suddenly realized how close he came to blurting that out loud. Melson interrupted injecting a question.
“Wayne you look like a man who just had an enlightenment. Is it something you think may be of value to the project?”
‘Caught,’ he thinks trying to plan a credible extrication from his screw up. Melson came across as one who has no sense of humor. Desperate, Wayne tried a bluff one that may sound as if it might be plausible. He needs something to avoid becoming the guy with the shortest tenure in company history. “Yes sir there is something to be considered. I have worked through Trident extensively. For all its processing speed it lacks what you need for projecting visuals. What you are proposing is to create visuals not of real people but possible people. Mister Mason and I come from similar backgrounds. Unless he has found something that can deliver what you require I propose the program does not exist. The best Trident, cad and data mining programs can give you is estimates and probables. They are only combining strings of data. If you are looking for a picture or video to produce an accurate rendition these programs cannot give it to you. Your best hope in my opinion is a wedding between Trident and some high end computer gaming engines. Many of the new 3d games and VR programs are lifelike. However, I cannot say such a wedding is possible.” He sat back hoping he dodged a bullet.
Melson sat upright not at all happy. He looked to Miller transmitting his thoughts which Bill somehow understood. Mason spoke. “Wayne is one-hundred percent correct. I have been saying all along probables is all you can hope for. Science is nowhere near that ability.
Exhaling slowly while looking to tiny dots on a tile ceiling Wayne is relieved. ‘Wow they bought my shit!’ He offers a suggestion. “I suspect we are talking years before technology allows realizing your stated. In my opinion we continue pressing forward to complete the project. Even if we cannot manufacture a designed end product we can replicate any of Enos’ subjects. If you want a duplicate, copy the original.”
“That’s why we hired you Wayne. You may have just saved us millions chasing a fool’s errand. Enos are you certain you can replicate one of your subjects?”
Slaughter nodded, “We are weeks away, a few months at most.”
“Then continue we will meet again when there is news. Wayne, can we meet in my office at four today? Nothing bad I have a project that might be right up your alley. Something you can head. We can discuss the details.”
A hostess led Wayne to a corner table near a rustic fire place where Sarah sat looking radiant. Radiant does not do her justice. Her mid shoulder length Brunette hair curled gently against the collar of a white silk blouse. Her tan knit vest enhanced the curve of delicate breasts. When she stood her floor length leather straight skirt kissed the tops of her pumps. She was an ethereal beauty delicately refined; the word exquisite far closer describes Sarah than radiant. “Hello,” her voice caresses the word gently. Wayne kisses the back of her extended hand.
“Don’t move” he said unexpectedly causing Sarah to blink. “Your gold cross reflects the light from your eyes and that chain is so delicate. The emerald glow radiates like a shimmering pool.”
Sarah blinks, having been caught off guard. She struggles to regain control. This man she knows so well surprised her. ‘He has a weakness,’ she thought. “I know what you are doing,” she teased. “You are trying to distract me. If you are so observant unlike most men you can tell me something from yesterday. Something you saw when we were together. Then I can be assured you are not like most men focused on only one thing.”
Wayne raises and lowers his head slowly in an exaggerated nod. ‘I can tease too,’ he thinks. “I did not forget what you were wearing. That is what you alluded to isn’t it? By the way, my dear Ms. Melson what is it you say I am solely focused upon?” He could not resist his last tease. Wayne sat anticipating how much trouble that tease caused.
She smiles, “So you say but I have not heard anything to prove it coming out of your mouth.”
A waiter wears a grin having over heard this part of their conversation. He serves steaks, salads and mashed potatoes. “I trust this is to your satisfaction.” He backs up after hearing their assent.
“Legs,” Wayne says with conviction.
Sarah tries to suppress a laugh she cannot manage. “Legs? What are you talking about?”
“What you were wearing, legs and plenty of them covered by the sexiest black hose you could find no doubt. You asked, what do you think would be the first thing I’d notice? I am not like other guys who talk to women’s breasts. Not that I, don’t appreciate them. I simply have more respect for women.”
Sarah is now laughing almost choking on her salad. “Staring at my legs is not chauvinistic?”
Wayne rolls his eyes flicking the end of Sarah’s nose teasingly with his finger tip. “Not when you go out of your way to advertise them. You packaged them well by the way. I’m not finished yet. That white pencil skirt cut at the knees blended perfectly with the hose. I like the way a buttercup colored cami rode just over the waist band of your skirt. There was enough color separation between the two. It was classy how you chose the length of the blouse. It is so tacky to see a woman’s belly button hanging in the air. That sends the wrong message. It is much preferable to lift the blouse for that view. I did miss something. I could not identify the scent. Was that a special perfume or is it a brand name?”
Sarah is speechless as she simply stares at Wayne. She made the mistake of locking eyes with him. ‘He is the one. He still shows no sign of remembering.’ “You pass now tell me about work. First I have to make an offer based on your eloquent description. Any time you want you can borrow that ensemble.” Her eyes sparkled with her latest tease. Wayne wanted to take her right here on the table.
“I will as soon as you answer my question about focus.”
Sarah winks taking his hand fingering his palm seductively with a finger. “Your answer of what I wore speaks volumes of your interest. I will say keep at it you might succeed.”
It was Wayne’s turn to blink, ‘I can’t win no matter what.’ He knew better than pursuing this topic instead chose to answer her initial question, beginning with a wise crack about her offer. “After seeing you wearing that believe me I could not do it justice. Work, you inquire about my work. It went well. I’m certain you know I cannot talk about it. I will say your old man is intense.”
Sarah reached across the table touching Wayne’s wrist whispering, “I know.” She looked away as if lost in thought. With a tinge of sadness in her voice she said quietly. “Project 67 will not work. I have a good idea what Slaughter said and he is wrong.”
Wayne felt perplexed sensing her inner turmoil but simply nodded at her comment about the project. “Your father is assigning me to another project. He is offering me the lead. I have no idea what it is. There are a few things I want to ask you. “Where did Trident come from do you have any idea? You mentioned classes next month. Are you in college?”
Sarah narrowed her eyes not wishing to discuss Trident, “Yes I’m in grad school one semester to go. I will be finished in January.” Deflecting from Trident, Sarah suddenly makes an exaggerated glance at her watch. “Oh my look at the time you have to get back. Daddy is a notorious clock watcher. Never mind the check I will get it. I am going to sit here and finish my coffee.”
Wayne begins to protest but Sarah shushes him. She stands leaning over kissing his cheek. ‘I dodged Trident and he did not ask about the rent. I wonder how he’d react to that. Does he know yet?’
Conception
Wayne arrived in his office by one PM. just making it on time he stood searching out his window. Not looking for anything in particular with his arms behind his back lost in thought he focused upon Sarah. ‘I think I am falling for her. That is a bad idea, like a moth to the flame caution is suspended. Melson will have a fit if he finds out.’ Wayne has no idea how much time has passed when a knock on the door jars him back into the moment. “How many mini vans per hour visit Colonial Markets?” A laugh follows Bill Mason’s comment as Huntington turns quickly to face his co-worker.
“Oh hello Bill what’s up? I was lost in thought wondering what Melson has for me.” Wayne cannot calculate how long he was frozen gazing into a parking lot seeing nothing. ‘At least I was not having a waking dream.’ He let out a sigh waiting for Mason’s response.
“The only thing it can be is a medical systems project. They are working on a digital program to enhance dream state responses.” Bill sits on the corner of Wayne’s desk considering before continuing. “I’m not sure if they said that right. I will let Melson spell it out. I just wanted to tell you the chief is freaking out about this latest project.”
Wayne turns from the window to face Bill raising a brow, “What do you mean freaking out? What is it about?”
Mason steps away to sit in the chair as Wayne returns to his desk. Crossing his legs at the ankles he leans closer speaking in a conspiratorial voice. “The guy you replaced, Heath Babcock, laughed in his face when Melson proposed it. Then could not get it off the ground fast enough to suit the boss. Melson fired him. Now with this Trident gem you pulled off he thinks you are a bloody miracle worker. Anyway I thought I’d give you a heads up before you thought the guy bonkers when you hear what he wants.”
Wayne begins to grow concerned furrowing his brows. “You are beginning to worry me. Can you give me a hint what it is about? I hate walking in there without a clue.”
Bill erms rubbing his chin, “I only know what Babcock said. He kept it close to his vest saying little. You know that test group funneling in and out of Slaughter’s lab? It is not just for Project 67. Enos is also inducing a sleep state they are trying to monitor people’s dreams. Record them to watch on the computer hoping to be able to interact with people who are sleeping. Who knows, implant ideas, plans, manipulation or whatever.”
Huntington’s antenna raises understanding without having to be told to grow wary. “They want to be able to watch people’s dreams? It sounds more like science fiction than reality. Thanks for the heads up. I can’t imagine how they could pull this off. At least Melson will not get a stunned reaction if this is what he presents. Why the warning?”
“You saved my ass with Trident. I know damn well if we did not have a break through and soon it would be a one way trip to the unemployment office. I feel I owe you. Good luck and whatever you do sound like you accept what he says.”
That is exactly what Wayne walked into when he settled into a soft chair across from Melson. As the boss went on about his latest ideas Wayne surveyed the room. It is what you would expect to find in a top executive’s domain. There were no shortages of the finest and most expensive furnishings. There were a few small things missing that troubled Wayne. ‘If he is so possessive, so watchful and spoiled Sarah the way he has, why are there no pictures of the girl on his desk?’
Melson finished his explanation of his problems with this project. “So you can tell as I said Trident can process the data fine. It will not render the data into a viable video format. We are certain the data is correct. Do you have any ideas how we can resolve this?”
Completely clueless Wayne fell back on his recent defense by reminding his boss what he had said. “Trident is not designed to interpret video. Like I said you need to consider the gaming industry. That is where the super video geeks reside.”
Melson shrugged surprising Wayne. “I wonder if your friends at Atlantis have any more tricks up their sleeves. I cannot seem to find anything about them. The project is yours with a raise if they do, get on it and let me know.”
Wayne did not return to his apartment until eight that evening. He is exhausted listening to Melson detailing his latest dream project. The man absolutely is convinced ‘Cloud Whispering,’ as he named it will allow recording dreams allowing government or corporate to interact during people’s sleep sessions. Thanks to Bill Mason, the new programmer managed to hold his reactions to himself. He did not give off any hint of ridicule or doubt. Wayne is convinced there is no way to pull this off. He prays there is no way to pull this off. Worse yet Melson wants his project fast tracked. Wayne now worries his new found dream job is soon to come to an end.
He called Sarah begging off for tonight saying that he just got in confirming he is heading a new project.
“I know Wayne, he stuck you with Whispers. Don’t worry you will figure it out. I will catch you later, sleep well.”
‘Whispers? Is that girl plugged into everything?’ Wayne shrugged accepting one thing he has learned in the short time he’d known Sarah Melson is she always surprises him. After skipping his customary Raman noodles he crashed hoping for a well needed rest. That was not to be. Raman noodles are still on the menu until he receives the first paycheck.
“How in the hell did you get in here?” Wayne almost shouted his voice irritated. He could not identify the shadowy figure hidden in the corner. He narrowed his gaze trying to focus when she stepped into the light. Wayne had decided his luck definitely turned the moment he met her. The problem is he cannot tell in which direction, good or bad.
“I can’t wait all night. Follow me outside and get in the damn car. If, I start screaming in this neighborhood the cops will swarm the place.” Wayne sensed by Sarah’s tone she is pulling his string. She emitted a soft teasing lilt the way she caressed words to sound anything but threatening.
“What do you want?” Wayne asks in a curious voice. “I am exhausted after your father dumped Whispers on me. “You talk about me not listening. Did you forget I said I am too beat for anything tonight?”
“I heard you but then considered this is not too taxing and it will help you relax. I want to help a friend. Get in the car it beats hanging around here feeling sorry for yourself.”
He no sooner buckled his seat belt than the car screamed reaching sixty miles per hour in seconds. “This baby has balls.” A soft female voice purrs.
“Do you mind trying to obey the speed limit? It is only thirty miles per hour.”
Sarah mercifully slowed as she drove north toward the hilly section of town. The drive took about thirty minutes before they reached an exclusive neighborhood more than one town over. She swiped a card to open a steel gate allowing entry to a two lane macadam road. It could have been one of those long tree lined winding driveways you see in the movies. She drove past a lodge or what looked like a lodge. The building is two stories perhaps a hundred feet in length with a porch covering the entire width. Several yards further along the road split at a y. She turned left driving slowly by three or four bungalows. At the fourth she pulled into a driveway parking next to the porch of yet another cabin. “We are home.” Sarah chirpily announces.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about? It looks like somebody is home.” Wayne says in a low voice.
“Nobody is here.” The girl answers softly as she opens the door. Turning to face him her eyes regard the other car parked in the drive. “You mean the Mustang. That is mine there is nobody here.”
Wayne stares in disbelief. “Wait a minute that is almost new. What did you need the BMW for when you have this?” He points toward the midnight blue Mustang.
Sarah presents a pout, “It is a year old, time for a new one.”
Her tone is such it presents her realty that anyone with a brain knows a year old car is passé. “This place is fifteen hundred square feet. I have two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, dining room and living room. I forgot there is a computer room as well. Welcome to River Lawn Community Apartments and my private digs.”
He is still at a loss for words as they enter. Sarah points to a closed door on the left of the living room. “You can crash there for tonight. I am getting tired and don’t feel much like driving back to the city.” She removes her camel hair tan coat revealing a sleek black strapless mini dress and legs, lot of legs. Her gold cross sparkles again with a hint of green reflecting.
Wayne suddenly is aware he is fixated upon the dimple behind her right knee. He forces his gaze to regard the whole woman causing him to melt. Wayne resolved he is growing tired of this never ending tease. He focuses upon those green specks suddenly realizing this may yet be another dream. Unable to wake he decides to go along with whatever this dream presents.
“Sarah I am really, really tired I just want to sleep.” Sarah hears him but it is like she is not listening. The woman points to the sofa as if commanding him to sit. He does so and she alights next to him crossing her legs forcing a slight hitch up of her already short dress. He again sees that dimple. Sarah smiles, as she discounts his claim of being tired. “Plenty of time for that but first we have things to do.” Before Wayne can respond there is a knock on the door.
Sarah chirps, “Can you get that? It is dinner. I know father kept you late and you did not eat. You need your strength.”
A delivery guy hands Wayne two Styrofoam molded dishes that felt steaming hot. He shakes his head thinking, ‘what in hell did I fall into?’ They spoke quietly as they ate their prime ribs with Sarah shushing him every time he tried to inquire about what is going on. Finally, they complete the meal and Sarah clears the table. She does not seem to be in any hurry. Wayne decides to press feeling uncomfortable in this dream. Trying to gain a measure of control he attempts to redirect the conversation. “This is your place? Private digs at the most exclusive school in the state. Isn’t River Lawn a private College?
Sarah emits an embarrassed blush finally admitting, “I told you I’m finishing up my graduate degree this term. Father rented this place for the summer since I liked it so much. It keeps me out from under his feet at home. It works for both of us. Why move out in June only to move back at the end of August? No, River Lawn is a private community owned by the college.”
Wayne could not argue with her logic when money comes in bushel baskets, who cares how you spend it. This girl never ate a Raman noodle in her life. “You could have summered in the Riviera or some other exotic place. Why stay here? I am sure you have better things to do than tease me for your summer. You never considered those Latin hunks on the Spanish coast?”
Sarah laughs, “Believe me this is no tease. I have a lot to do this summer.” The woman quickly changes the topic not wanting to follow this path at least for the moment. Something told Wayne not to press and he sat back listening. “I told you I can help. I like to have people around that I can call on for favors if, I need one. An answer to Whispers should be on your desk when you get to work in the morning.”
He takes a deep breath averting her gaze. Wayne had long since decided those eyes of Sarah’s are dangerous. This girl is dangerous, ‘if, I had half a brain I’d run like hell but to where?’ Issuing a defensive joke he quipped, “More Atlantis software you mean.”
Sarah widens her brows gazing at Wayne. “Let’s not talk about that right now dinner is getting cold.”
Wayne gazes at the girl taking her measure halfway between five and six feet tall. Her brunette hair styled perfectly to frame her heart shaped face. She is wearing a killer dress begging to be undone and Wayne is completely hooked. “You said we have things to do tonight. Can you give me a clue regarding what those things are?” He touches her bare shoulder and his fingers feel intense heat.
Sarah laughs, “I guess you will have to use your imagination and think what you would want. It is almost ten and getting later.” She walks around the table standing behind Wayne placing her arms around him kissing the back of his neck. “Does this give you any ideas? I am thinking about a visual answer to my question raised a few days back. You did not forget? It was something regarding balls and,” she blushes, “You know.
Wayne turns and the expected kiss grows passionate out of control as a fire rages. True to dreams there is no awareness of moving to her bedroom. He is lying naked on her bed. Sarah’s light brown strands cover his face as she hovers above him. Again her cross sparkles reflecting moon light flooding through the window. She rides him hard; he nearly melts from one explosion after another. Everything goes black. He cannot determine how long he floats in nothingness.
“That was wonderful each time,” he hears her whisper. Before he can respond she shifts above him then sinks smothering his body. He floats away yet again sensing her taste as fluids sweet sensual fluids cover his lips followed by the words, “I love you,” and “Forever.”
His alarm is buzzing waking Wayne from a rested sleep. ‘Rested,’ he thinks, ‘I recall Sarah making love many times. I should not feel rested. It is too bad it was a dream. It felt so real.’ He rushes to the shower ignoring saturated sheets. Pouring his coffee he sits and a strange reaction causes him to spit it out. ‘It tastes like shit. I have this strange residue in my mouth. You can’t feel a dream but I swear my tongue has a sticky coating of,’ he drops his horrifying thoughts. ‘It can’t be that.’ Several minutes of gargling and brushing left a lingering hint of something strange. ‘I have got to get to work.’
Jane met Wayne as he entered the reception area. “Fed Ex left a package for you.” He thanked the woman walking to his office stopping to pour a cup of tea from the break room. ‘Tea, what is wrong is me? The smell of coffee is an aroma I thoroughly enjoy. Oh well must be some anomaly.’ He sits at his desk reading the shipping label. ‘Atlantis Software, Hong Kong. Ah ha we have finally located the mysterious company. What do we have here?’ He opens the small box to find a computer program. ‘Dreamscape, how convenient. Who knew I needed this?’ According to the instructions Dreamscape can create video files from data transcribed by Trident. ‘Dr. Slaughter will simply love this. The problem is we need to design a format to allow recording electrical impulses transmitted by firing neurons.’
A sister Enters
Earlier on this same day an event took place at a remote location unknown to most Micro Tech employees. There were no signs to identify the building that could easily be mistaken for a nondescript warehouse on the waterfront. The property is locked down behind high cyclone fencing topped by serious barbed wire. A single plate steel sign etched in red lettering reported ’Electrified Fence Danger.’ A second ring of fencing circumvented the complex after the first row is passed. In between the barriers sat a small concrete blockhouse. The single thirty by thirty foot square building sat between rows of fencing. They referred to the narrow area as the moat.
The gate opened for the black SUV as it slowed at the window. The driver flashed a card at the guard as he silently waved a lone figure through. Once beyond the second gate the car parked in the assigned spot in the back of the building. There is no card to swipe as entrance is restricted to an eye scan. The intruder wearing contacts stared into the electronic oval as it scanned each retina. With a mechanical buzz the door allowed entry. At six am few were about as a tall mysterious figure hurried toward the research department.
Another scanning provided access to the lab. After hurriedly placing a micro disc into a flat plate under what appeared to be a microscope, a series of numbers and letters are pressed by a gloved hand. Blue lights surrounded the plate bathing it dim light. A drone of electronic activity buzzed while a panel reports a scanner’s analysis. The disc is then placed in a small leather case. Turning to another machine resembling a large version of a standard kitchen blender a pliable gray glob resembling play dough is produced. It weighed only a few ounces. Quickly removing it from the glass enclosure it is placed into a leather case.
The stealth figure repeated this process using a single strand of brownish hair. The second hair is lighter brown in color than the first. With both small samples of the gooey substance Micro’s intruder turned to leave. Knowing systems record every action detailing exact weight of the product, the thief then placed an equal amount of generic play dough into the container praying Micro scientists would not notice such a small amount. Detection creates a real problem even if a thief’s identity remains unknown. The company would be alerted and will spare no expense to stop what they know the thief is attempting. A stealth figure shrugged believing the non active replacement will report the same total weight hiding this theft. Another disc is inserted into a mainframe followed by an issued execute command. It is time to get out before anyone comes in.
Across the divide on the 1965 side of the divide. Fiona Ramsey sat alone in a dark corner of a hospital room. She focused upon the young woman who lay in bed in a deep coma. ‘I am surprised to learn she has such powers. Her ability to project across the divide is astounding. Watching her actions trying to guide her husband is touching. She is growing weaker yet she continues her fight.’ Fiona draws close to Sarah releasing a sigh, ‘I will enlist your sister to help in your place. Kristen has the same powers, though she does not know it yet. Rest my dear, do not trouble yourself.’
Kristen Melson takes her turn to sit by her sister’s side she reads to Sarah almost in a whisper. Startled, she looks up to see Fiona in the corner. “How long have to been here? I did not see you.”
Fiona smiles, “It is a trick I employ when I need to observe. She can hear you reading. It soothes her and she needs her rest. Sarah needs to know she is loved even if she is not there.”
Kristen stares at Fiona a fear in her eyes. “What do you mean she is not there? Are you telling me my sister is not going to come back?” Kristen visibly trembles waiting for the witch’s response.
Fiona takes her hand gently, “Don’t worry my dear there is a good chance she can be brought back but I need your help. It was the accident you know. Haven’t you wondered what happened to Wayne?”
“They fell and he is missing. It has been almost a week and they have found no sign of him. The authorities believe he perished in the snow. It won’t be until spring when they find his body.” Kristen begins to cry.
Fiona hugs her, “There, there my little one. Wayne is fine though he is out of reach of those looking for him. Let me explain, when they fell not only did they collide but Wayne fell through the divide. You remember the keys I gave you. You know about the divide so you can believe what I tell you. There is something else you cannot know though Sarah is aware.”
“How can Sarah know she has been unconscious since the accident?” Kristen waits on an answer no matter how improbable.
The witch takes a deep breath closing her fingers around Kristen’s hand. “When they fell they went through a temporary portal opening, While they literally flew through space they collided. It came with such force inside the portal their essence mixed. You see when one enters a portal their spirit separates from their bodies temporarily rejoining it upon exit. Their spirits turned at the point of collision each entering the other’s shell. Wayne’s memories and persona are inside Sarah’s body. Wayne is awake and functioning in the 2013 side. He has Sarah’s memories lying underneath a few of his own. He can recall only incidents happening to Wayne since the accident. We need to bring him across the divide to unite Sarah and her husband. Your sister has been sending her persona across trying to help him. She is too weak. We need you to pretend you are Sarah and help bring him back. Will you do it?”
Kristen jumps up pointing to her sister. “Are you saying this is not Sarah?” Her eyes flame in disbelief.
Fiona nods, “Sarah’s body is holding Wayne’s memories there is very little of Sarah in there. I warn you the longer Wayne remains away the greater the danger will become that Sarah will assert herself. Don’t be surprise if you find her mannerisms show through when you see Wayne. At some point Wayne will come to see himself as Sarah in dreams and if he crosses the divide he may appear as Sarah. The divide attempts to create a passing host with its appropriate shell. To the divide Wayne appears to be Sarah. I will tell you something else I learned.” She whispers the secret to Kristen who upon hearing it does not know if she should laugh or cry.
The Accident
Mason and Slaughter sit across from Wayne in the conference room. Slaughter spoke excitedly “I hear you may have an answer to our imaging problem? You have another miracle program?” Wayne nodded cautiously not knowing who his benefactor is he fears saying too much. “That depends on where you are in the process. This program will produce the video you need. It will not create the required data. I have no idea if you have the ability to retrieve data from people’s dreams. Without that this program does you no good at all.”
Slaughter smiled a guarded calculated smile. “We are working on it. I can only say a break through could happen any day now.” Melson remained silent throughout the meeting finally excusing Wayne. “We will let you know as soon as we can take the next step. Thank you and your friends at Atlantis. Their prices are exorbitant but they sure as hell deliver.”
Wayne exited leaving the boss and the doctor alone. ‘I would sure like to know what they are up to with all this cloak and dagger stuff.’ He went back to his office hopefully to find something in his e-mail. There is nothing at all not surprising Wayne who turns to his window. Out there in the parking lot he sees Sarah. ‘No she only looks like Sarah’ The woman looks up smiling mouthing something he can’t read. A shaken Wayne Huntington slumps in his chair.
“Enos, I have some disturbing news for you. The facility was breached early this morning. The good news is nothing was taken. Please tell me how much damage can an intruder do?” A distraught Melson demanded of his scientists.
Slaughter, shrugged not too disturbed trying to relax his boss. “The DNA research is readily available that is no advantage for a thief. To tell you the truth with that information the best they can do is harvest an infant. No science is advanced enough to produce a functioning adult. They need our research plus the knowledge to interpret the data. Even then an accelerator is required to create a duplicate and transfer someone into it. Only the government has such a device. Even they cannot successfully complete a transfer. The government lacks our research. We assume NASA is working toward the same goal we are. Micro Tech is ahead of them. Your thief has to be CIA or from some other alphabet agency. My guess is they are after our science. Was the data breached? That is the concern.”
Melson is somewhat placated but not convinced. “The computers indicate no disruption to the files. They have not been accessed since your last entry yesterday afternoon. Double security and order them to shoot to kill.” Enos blinks, “Are you sure?” Melson nods.
As Wayne leaves the office he calls Sarah getting her voice mail. “I’m in my office with a copy of yet another amazing program. Do you know anything about it? Give me a call when you get this message. I’m going to putter around a bit with it to see what Dreamscape can do. It has been a long day and I have been feeling queasy with stomach cramps.” Wayne had no way of knowing Sarah lay in bed listening unable to answer. ‘I am running out of time. Poor Wayne I hope everything goes well.’
He fired up his computer searching Dreamscape finding a grouping of default sample videos. Nothing interested him and he shut it down to discover he spent two hours viewing the program. Stunned at the lost of time Wayne reached to shut down the computer when his e-mail buzzed. He clicked open the message from a place called The Closet. It read, thank you for your order. Included is a receipt for two hundred forty nine dollars and a list including handy thumb nails. He clicked not able to resist. To his horror he found a picture of a white knee length pencil skirt and a camisole buttercup in color with the same narrow straps Sarah wore. Also included are the same black hose and a pair of pumps with two inch heels. ‘I bet they are in my size as well.’ He thought sarcastically. ‘What the hell is going on?’ He did not notice the note. “Thank you Sarah.”
Huntington ran out the door to drive home in a rush. Wayne has no interest for anything presently on the tube. With his feet propped on a glass covered coffee table he opens a can of lager. He set the can down quickly turning his head the smell tied his stomach into knots. “Nothing is going right,” he complains as he flushed the foul drink down the sink. Opening a second can produced the same result. ‘I guess it is not the brew it’s me.’ He called Sarah a second time. Still the answering machine, still she does not pick up. He did not leave a message. Instead he popped a couple Tylenol and went to bed. ‘Glad it’s Friday and I have two days off.’
Sleep came quickly but it is anything other than restful. In his dream, Wayne found himself standing near a frozen stream facing a two log width bridge thankfully with hand rails. The ice covered rocks peek above rapidly moving water. He is wearing an off color red nylon shell and by the feel of it underneath is a heavy wool sweater. Glancing down his lower half is covered with nylon rain or wind pants. He takes a second look to deny the color is a light pink or rose. Securely warm from the layers he crossed the bridge using one wool mittened hand to grip a wooden rail. Once across at a trail junction Wayne recognized where he is, he has been here before. Straight ahead is the W. A. White trail leading to the Great Range. To his left is the West River Trail traveling up and down the banks to the Lower Lake three and a half miles distant. Many spur trails lead up into the mountains along this route. He checked his watch altimeter noting it is nearly three-thousand feet of elevation gain to his mountain. His watch is blinking fourteen hundred feet. ‘That reads close to what it should.’ He balks at that thought. ‘Wait Altimeter watches were not invented until nineteen-eighty-nine or so. This is nineteen-sixty-three.’ At eight AM there is plenty of time. Wayne noticed the date September twenty-first. Wayne assumed this was when he and Sarah made this trip last year. That means he is twenty-two years old having just completed graduate school. His dream is recalling a real event.
Wayne pauses to collect his thoughts. ‘If this is a real event where is Sarah, why am I alone?’ Wayne decided on the direct route to the range. ‘I climbed this mountain before. I had used a different route and always wanted to check out this trail. Hardly anyone goes this way and I do not like crowds.’ Just as Wayne snugged his ski hat down over his ears a man approached. He is a state forest ranger. “Excuse me,” the officer begins. “Hiking alone is not a good idea. Where are you going?”
The solo hiker knows this is not a good idea agreeing with the ranger. ‘According to the dream this is something I have to do,' he thinks. “I’m just going up to the Lower Jaw, no further. I have climbed all the high peaks here and have the necessary equipment.”
A forest ranger must have heard this story countless times if he’s been in the business more than a week. “I am going down to lake and then hike back via the road. Where are you parked and what are you driving?”
Wayne raised a curious brow, “My car is back at the lot down by the highway. You know the legal lot not the one near the clubhouse. It is a blue 63’ Honda. There are only three cars in the lot. It is usually full.”
Ranger Jim Phillips, that’s how he introduced himself, presents his challenge. It is nine miles round trip plus 2850 feet ascent. My calculation suggests it should take you six hours not allowing for snow conditions. My route is much shorter and easier than yours. I will be back at the gate about four meaning noon. Perhaps later if some fool gets himself into trouble. You on the other hand won’t be back until two at the earliest. It is not going to get above freezing and it will be cold as all get out even if the forecasted winds do not appear. I will be here at two. If your car is still in the lot I’m coming up after you. If you were a couple hot shot jocks I wouldn’t bother. I, don’t care if you have a winter climbing patch or not this is no place for a young lady alone. What is your name?”
‘Young lady? What the fuck! This damn dream is twisting things around.’ Wayne’s mind is racing. He climbed this very trail in these same conditions while in high school almost ten years ago. Yes, he has climbed all the high peaks in the winter. But a girl, what the, then his mouth shocked him blurting out his name. “Sarah Melson.”
“Fine, Sarah I will see you at two and do not change your route.” Ranger Phillips smiled adding, “Be careful.”
Now in shock Wayne walks slowly with crunching snow slowing his pace. Using a single ski pole to aid his ascent, three legs are better than two, he pushed to Snow Mountain trail junction at nine tenths of a mile from his start. ’8:30 I’m making good time and it’s warming up.’ Off came his nylon shell. To his horror when he bent to shove the jacket into his pack he saw two protrusions forming mounds against his sweater. He almost turned around to walk back to his car. He recalled an event he completely forgotten. When in high school he climbed all the high peaks, on this same September day he hiked this route and found a kid almost frozen to death. A girl about his age he never learned her name and soon forgot the incident. It was no big deal people get lost in these mountains all the time. ‘But me a girl named Sarah at that. I’m not going to look somehow I know right where I have a dimple.’
Continuing uphill with a new determination Wayne dug into the steeper incline with his poles. He removed a second pole strapped to his pack needing it due to a steeper incline. Kicking steps into the crusty snow that’s becomes a few inches deeper with each hundred feet gained. He notes bare Earth pockets are less frequent with each step. She according to the dream snugs her wooly hat tighter around her face. At a mile and three quarters Wayne throws himself butt first onto a snowy rock at the edge of the first open ledge. Here he rests enjoying views of his old friends; Giant Mountain, Rocky Peak, Noonmark Mountain, Mts Colvin and Blake among others are standing out buttressing the cold gray horizon. The cloud layer and mild breeze signals it could get rough up there. No sooner than a notion of rough settled in it began to spit snow
Wayne in an attempt to steady himself begins to sing an old John Denver ballad as he continued upward. The sound of her voice aloud in the quiet backcountry scarred the hell out of him. It never dawned on him the song he sang will not be written for another ten years. In less than five minutes he cleared the second ledge still shy of the two mile mark. He began to worry about the time in his chauvinistic mind. The last thing he wanted to see is Jim Phillips’ smiling face mouthing the words, “Told you so.”
He welcomed the several stream crossings high up because they were running low though normally this time of year they are dried up. The flat stretches now appearing told Wayne he is near the Range Trail Junction where only one short difficult stretch waited. Having gained 2500 feet victory is in sight. Then he saw her or is it him? ‘This dream could have reversed this aspect as well. My God that’s, that’s me!' Rushing through snow ten feet off the trail where the depth reached a foot he found Wayne. Lying in the snow on his back with eyes closed Wayne recognized his face. He touched his wrist to find a pulse. Placing his ear to his chest he heard shallow breathing. He jostled him calling “Wayne, Wayne, slowly deep blue eyes opened with a soft answer, “What?”
Within minutes the person is sitting clearing the fog. The shocked dreamer did not want to hear confirmation of this nightmare but he did. The person sitting there reported his name is Wayne Huntington. ‘What the fuck, I look just like Sarah and my name is Sarah. Why not rescue myself?’ The dreamer removed his Svea stove from his pack quickly having it primed and roaring. Moments later the young man is drinking a cup of hot chocolate. “What are you doing here, where is your pack, Christ are you really wearing sneakers, all you have is what you are wearing?” The questions are fired rapidly too fast for his ‘husband’ to answer. He appears perhaps to be the same age as the dreamer. Finally an answer comes, an answer the dreamer did not expect. “I’m so sorry Sarah I should have waited for you. I got too far ahead realizing I shouldn’t have left you behind.” The dreamer feels a comforting hug as the man kisses her romantically.
Conversation is light as the couple walks downhill holding mittened hands. The dreamer hears a series of, “I’m so sorry Sarah I wanted to show you this magnificent view and walked too far ahead.” The dreamer no longer resisting his confusion answers simply, “I know we can always come back. The snow is starting to fall we should hurry.” ‘There is no point in bitching him out. We just need to get down the hill. Ranger Jim will be proud of me.’ “Look Wayne,” he couldn’t’ help himself this guy is the spitting image of himself. “I love you.”
They were nearing the higher ledge encouraging the dreamer to relax. ‘One more after this and it’s clear sailing.’ The wind increased blowing biting cold against their faces as they hunched shoulders covering faces with their ski caps. The mirror image of the Dreamer stopped suddenly wrapping his arms around his rescuer executing a passionate kiss. “I’ve told you before I love you.”
They turned toward the lower cliffs with our dreamer lost in fog. They descended slowly without speaking with the other Wayne in front. Sarah the dreamer followed through a nearly level area approaching the lower ledge. Here they decided to rest, “For a minute,” one of them said.
Wayne in his female persona wanting only to get out of here insisted they push below the lower ledge. “Once we get passed that it is easier going.” Snow and winds picked up causing a deeper chill presenting a white out. The dreamer could feel his feet slip as he is suddenly falling sliding out of control. It is like he is falling and spinning through a vortex. The dreamer comes to a hard stop feeling a sharp pain with his partner landing on top of him. They both crash against a rock and his partner is missing.
He woke with a start sweating from this weird dream. His cramps still gripped his mid section. He thought for a moment he is about to lose his dinner. When coming out of the bathroom he suddenly recalled an event from his high school days. He sat on the sofa at three am laughing. Back when he hiked that trail on day similar to his dream he did find someone nearly frozen and lost. ‘No,’ he thought, trying to recall what had happened on that hike. ‘Just like the dream it was September 21st. I remember now I crossed the flat area and at the last stream I thought I saw someone sitting in the snow. I rushed slipping on an icy rock falling against the bank. I nearly went head first into the cold water. When I looked again there was no one sitting there it was simply snow on a rock forming a shape resembling a sitting person. I did not meet any ranger nor did I rescue any kid. That’s why I had no memory of heroism. It did not happen. It is just another stupid dream.’
He paced from the micro wave to the table long enough to sip, swirl his tea, stare at the ceiling and think. Wayne repeated this downing ten cups of tea. Finally, after his fourth trip to the john he sat back on the sofa dozing off yet one more time. Another dream finds him at a senior prom dance at her Connecticut prep school.
Sarah is wearing an exquisite rose colored sleeveless prom dress with its flared skirt resting at her knees. Her shapely legs are adorned with nude hose. She appears to glide over the dance floor. Her heels offer an illusion they are inches above the floor. She feels a gentle hand resting on her hip while another regards a moist hand her head pressed against his shoulder. A soft voice whispers “I love you.” She raises her gaze to see Wayne’s eyes glowing. He presses her close as Sarah’s lips receive a warm sweet kiss. “I love you Wayne,” he feels his voice answer.
The dance ends with his strong hands guiding a girl in love back to a table where someone is sitting there are two people. One she should recognize, another senior with her boyfriend. The girl stands welcoming Sarah and her date.
The dreamer suddenly in terror recognizes her twin Kristen. ‘A twin, I had no idea.’ Wayne’s thoughts race toward a place between panic and a complete freak out. The Wayne figure in this dream pulls out a chair sitting Sarah. ‘I have to wake up.’ His twin whispers in his ear. “You are smashing tonight. Is this guy the one?” She giggles leaning in closer. “At least you will get lucky tonight sis. You really need to get laid.’
The dreamer rolls her eyes doubtfully, aiming them directly at Kristen. “Don’t push it sis, you know how I feel about that.”
She suddenly feels a tapping on her shoulder. “May I have this dance?” The young man who loves her leads the dreaming girl onto the dance floor. The ballad is a long one and Sarah is lost into the bluest most gorgeous eyes ever before seen. As the dance ends he says, “Will you step outside I have something for you?”
He follows the imposter of his dreams to a midnight blue BMW parked in the lot. He scoops the dream girl into his arms kissing her passionately, “Sarah, I love you.” One kiss leads to another each growing in intensity. She suddenly wants him more than anything. The dreaming Wayne opens the car door and she slides inside carefully smoothing her skirt the one this dreamer knows will soon come off.
Wayne snaps awake like a shot. ‘What in the hell is going on? These persistent dreams are driving me crazy. I have to get to the bottom of this.’ The clock is blinking five AM when Wayne rolls over pressing his face into a pillow. He is afraid to fall back asleep but knows he must.
He woke again at noon almost doubling over with deep cramps. He barely made it to john. ‘God what the hell is wrong with me?’ Wayne entered the shower feeling alive as hot water cascaded over him. He stood facing the mirror preparing to shave when his reflection appeared startling him. He is looking at Sarah wearing a towel covering her breasts. Long brunette locks wrapped atop her head covered like a bee hive by another towel. She is smiling looking simply radiant. He blinks in shock to discover when opening his eyes he is back. Wayne is staring at himself in the mirror. He is wearing a towel wrapped as it was in Sarah’s reflection.
Jumping back he turns to run into the kitchen his mind racing. He sits on the sofa panting in fear to see “message” flashing on his opened laptop. ‘I never opened the computer. I went straight from bed to the bathroom.’ Wayne accessed the message his eyes again flared. “You have to hurry time is running out.” It is signed your sister K.
Wayne frantically searched his e-mail and his phone’s text messages. He called Sarah, again being sent to voice mail without a response. ‘Where is she what is going on, does she even exist?’ In his panic Wayne ran outside jumping into his car to drive. He had no idea where he is going. ‘To Sarah’s apartment I must see if she is there and not answering her phone. She may be hurt or in some kind of trouble.’
He turns off route seventy-three onto eighty-six driving ten miles toward Saranac Lake. Wayne is doing this from memory having seen it only in a dream. He cannot be certain the place exists. Wayne considers Sarah only appeared in dreams. Now he is wide awake trying to apply imagined events to real life. The drive leads down a long blacktopped two car width lane to be blocked by a locked gate. There is a sign, River Lawn Community, ‘this is it.’ A man is standing appearing to be a security guard. Wayne rolls down the window, “I am here to see Ms Melson.”
A badge reads Leonard Fine on the guard’s shirt. He leans toward the window with an odd expression. “Sorry sir there is no one living here. This place has been abandoned for over five years. You are not from the real estate office I take it.”
Wayne’s confused expression must have been noticed by the guard. “No I’m not I am here to see a friend.”
“Like I said sir, no one has lived here for over five years. I’m here to meet the sales agent who is bringing a prospective buyer. The university is trying to unload this white elephant.”
Wayne turns his car thanking the man wondering what is going on. Then it strikes him, ‘I visited this place in my dreams. I’ve imagined Sarah she does not exist. How did Sully see her, how did she pay my rent? Are they keeping her captive behind that gate? What sense would that make?’ Wayne noticed a dirt road on his right as he drove toward this gated community. Once back on the main road he slowed looking for that lane.
Driving slowly on a dirt lane he watches his odometer click of tenths of miles Wayne comes to stop at a wide place in the road. He traveled about a mile, ‘that should be enough.’ He exits the car facing west to enter a stand of hardwoods. Estimating he needs to travel a quarter mile or so hoping there is no fence to climb, he moves briskly forward. As feared he reaches a fence. Beyond it a group of buildings can be seen looking very much like what appeared in his dream.
Once crossing the fence with little difficulty he stands on the blacktop. A Victorian style building is seen with multiple spires above the third floor. An ornate oak framed sign with elaborate script on the lawn identifies River Lawn Community. In a semi circle behind this central building are what appears to be three cabins of the same design as the main building. Only they are smaller in size. Two narrow paved paths resembling spokes lead along well manicured lawns between the three cabins. One is the lane Sarah drove to her cabin. Wayne turns walking along the drive. Before him is another circular drive with a driving lane turning to the left. The long blacktopped arm leads to a grouping of four cabins secluded in the pines. He recognizes the last as Sarah’s retreat. He rushes to it noting neither the Beamer nor the Mustang is in the drive.
Wayne tries the door finding it locked he turns to a rose bush reaching into his thorny stalks retrieving a key. ‘I knew it is here. Sarah kept a spare as she is always misplacing hers.’ Wayne nearly panicked at that thought not understanding how he knows. Even more unsettling is how that name keeps popping up. He stepped inside to receive a shock.
The room is empty not a shred of furniture anywhere save a mirror near what Wayne knew was a bathroom. He felt himself pulled toward the mirror. Wayne had no interest in a bland aluminum framed piece of glass that had been in Sarah’s apartment. Not fighting he looked into the glass where he saw Sarah sleeping in what looked like a hospital bed. A woman sat in a chair praying he recognized Sarah’s mother not knowing why. The mirror fogged to reveal his reflection smiling back. It was Sarah not him but somehow he could feel he is looking at himself. Fear caused him to jump back almost stumbling from a misstep. ‘Be careful you almost broke a heel.’ That thought startled him bringing a chill that only grew when he looked down.
He is wearing that outfit he ordered on the internet. His white pencil skirt cut at the knees blended perfectly with black hose. A buttercup colored cami rode just over the skirt’s waistband. His black pumps were supported by two inch heels and his legs were Sarah’s legs and the dimple that blasted dimple laid behind his right knee. Wayne stepped back feeling the sensation of his skirt as it moved with each step. ‘My God what is going on?’
The all encompassing urge of flight overcame him as his eyes found the door. He knew he could not go this room had more to tell him. Once again he went to the mirror and the old Wayne reflected back. He could see Sarah standing behind him and he turned. She was not there. Again facing the reflection he and Sarah were so close you could not tell where one began and the other ended. They were like joined at the hip. As he stared powerless to move a sheet of paper floated down from where he had no idea.
Wayne bent at waist lowering herself as Sarah would. His skirt and nyloned legs were back. He picked up the paper scanning the printed words. “Dear love, there is a lot to tell with no time to explain. Trust me as we are nearly one caused by the accident. I will send Kristen, our twin she can explain. Kristen will visit you both in person and in dreams to guide you home.
The man is back more confused than ever. ‘Who is Sarah Melson and her twin Kristen? Is there really a twin or is this some hoax dreamed up by a sick spoiled college girl?’ Wayne walked outside determined to get in his car and drive away, far away. Blocking his exit is a woman. Not just any woman but Sarah. Wayne blurts, “Where have you been? I have been looking all over for you.”
He studies the silent woman she is wearing a white sleeveless blouse and blue nylon running shorts. On her feet is a pair of white Nikes with a pink swoosh. She is pointing to her right knee as she turns her leg. The woman smiles as he sees there is no dimple. His expression tells Kristen what she needs to know.
“You are back for now Wayne Huntington you forgot something.” She handed him a card and continued to speak in that same heavenly voice. “It is Sarah’s key do not lose it for your’s and her lives depend on it. I will explain later there is no time now. In case you did not guess I am Kristen Melson your twin.” She giggles, “Sarah’s twin but you must have noticed sometimes you present as Sarah. Don’t let it alarm you it will happen again. I have a message for you from Sarah. As you appear as Wayne I can give it to you.” Another smile as she draws close. He can feel the swell of her breasts pressing against him followed by her passionate kiss. One he returns. “I can see why my sister is turned on by you. She loves you don’t let her down.”
She disappeared gone without so much as a flash of light or some other hallucination these dreams produce. The long walk and climb of the fence leads to his car. Wayne drives back toward the city trying to shake the odd events. Still frustrated, he has learned nothing of Sarah’s strange disappearance. ‘Who is Kristen and what did she give me?’ He has this strange feeling this is going to get more confusing before he wakes up.
He drove not paying attention to his route. Suddenly noticing Cattleman’s on his right. He pulls into their parking lot cautiously stepping out of the car. ‘I have an urge for breakfast. Do I really want to do this?’
Confused by his sudden urge, Wayne does not question as he steps inside. He sits at small table for two as the waiter takes his order. “Excuse me Sir, weren’t you the gentleman with Miss Melson I served a few days ago?”
Wayne brightened hearing confirmation Sarah does exist and he has been seen with her. He smiles relaxing as a second real life person has seen his dream girl. “Yes and the food was excellent. Why do you ask?”
The waiter answers, “She called to inquire if we had found her gold chain with the cross. She said I may give it to you when you come in Mister Huntington.”
“Wayne blinks, “How did you remember my name? I did not introduce myself.”
The waiter smiles, “Sir the way Ms. Melson talks about you I could not forget. You were with her a few says ago and she e-mailed us a picture of the two of you. That rock you bought her must have costs a bundle. It stands out in the photograph. I will print out a copy for you.” He left to return a moment later handing Wayne the chain and a photo. “You see it is there on her finger. Congratulations on your engagement.”
Wayne sat there drinking his tea after finishing breakfast. Stunned to say the least having no memory of how that picture could have been taken or of any proposal, he tries to wake up. ‘I’m not asleep,’ he considers. ‘We are engaged!’ Not that I mind though all possible explanations are terrifying.’ He drove home slowly still not receiving any answers about Sarah.
The longest day continues as Wayne sits staring at that message on his laptop. “You have to hurry time is running out.” ‘At least I found out who K is, I or Sarah have a twin named Kristen. Why am I having Sarah’s memories in these dreams? They began with Sarah flirting with me. I’m interacting as myself slowly shifting to where I am Sarah. Now she is missing and cannot be found. More importantly what does Kristen mean by hurry I am running out of time?’
Wayne stares at Sarah’s picture from the restaurant. He has no recall of an event where he presented the woman an engagement ring. His fingers play absently with a gold chain belonging to Sarah. Wayne notices delicate thinly woven strands of gold are intricately placed to form an exquisite braid. A dainty miniature cross is affixed adorning the necklace. Wayne discovers on the back a message is etched in dainty script simply pronouncing ‘Always, Wayne.’ Without questioning he reaches back to fasten it behind his neck. A flash appears where he feels gentle hands brushing his hair aside feeling it fall over his left shoulder. His own voice is heard saying, “Allow me.”
Then a breeze fills the room. It is warm and embracing as gentle lips kiss the back of his neck. He turns saying aloud, “I love you Wayne.” The sound is of Sarah’s voice. Wayne stares, the breeze is gone and no one is there. He jumps up in a panic. The cross dangling in the swell of his breasts. The breeze is gone and in the dark nothing remains but silence and the sound of his own breath catching. He runs to the bathroom mirror to see himself wearing the necklace. There are no breast and long brunette waves are missing. There is only Wayne appearing foolish wearing her bracelet. He pouted, pouting is out of character for the man. “What happened?”
He returns to his sofa with yet another cup of tea in his hand. On the table are two items he had not noticed. He picks up a key the one he used to open the cabin door. Next to it on the table is an electronic card like the ones you swipe to open doors, or gates. The card shows a picture of Sarah. Under it is the name, Sarah Melson and two words, Sarah’s Key.
More Questions Fewer Answers
The lone figure had long ago escaped the concrete block building with its futuristic security thinking, ‘penetration was relatively simple.’ No laughter followed the easy victory as the thief knew this operation is far from certain. There is one more stop to make before moving on to the next step. The figure dressed in black slipped in through a service entrance then followed a deserted hallway to a storage room. In the dark closet sized cubicle the thief changed into a uniform common to workers of this facility.
A nurse wearing a white cap with hair neatly piled under it adjusted a name tag identifying its wearer as a registered nurse and staff member. It is not difficult to navigate the busy halls to find an empty nurses station. The target is soon located housed on the fourth floor intensive care unit. During the early morning hours it is considerable distance in time to the next shift change. The stealth figure knew enough about protocols to allow easy changes to the schedule. A relief nurse who will soon enter the forth floor intensive care unit to serve for a half hour. The nurse is to relieve a resident nurse her lunch break. With a few simple key strokes the relief nurse is ordered to other duties.
The intruder walked briskly into the nurses station. Her starched crisp white skirt and matching blouse appears as clean as she is chirpy. Nurse Patricia Brown looked up in surprise. “Where is Gloria? I am expecting her to relieve me.”
A smiling imposter utilizing a happy voice quickly announces. “A last minute change some urgent care matter in the North Wing, I’m told. I’m Jill Covington from Saranac over on the west side. I’m filling in, enjoy your lunch.” Without waiting she watches Nurse Brown read Jill’s name tag and rush off waving, “I’ll be back in thirty.”
Leafing through the metal flip up nurse’s care chart she locates the name she is searching for. “Ah room 401, they have not moved her.” The notes reveal the young woman has been comatose since she was brought in thirty days ago. Vitals are borderline, prognosis for full recovery is fading. There is no order to not resistate. ‘At least that much is in her best interest. No one around to yell pull the plug.’
She stands at the end of the beautiful young woman’s bed uttering a silent prayer barely above a whisper. ‘Hold on love please don’t let go. I breached the divide more than once and I won’t give up not until you are whole.’ She thought she caught a glimpse of movement in darkened corner. ‘Is someone or something there?’ Afraid to turn around fearing the thief is finally caught she froze staring down at her twin. Turn around she must, when she did nothing is there. Relaxing she muses, ‘It is only daddy sleeping in the lazy boy. He won’t wake for hours.’
Wayne spent most of Sunday in bed recovering or trying to from a stressful Saturday. The churning in his stomach is bad enough. He has managed to keep his food down and he has no fever. Regardless to lacking any distinctive symptoms he feels like he is on death’s doorstep. This ailment, whatever it is presents enough discomfort to keep its victim is constant turmoil. Then there are the dreams. Those dreams are more than he can bear. He sat up in bed discovering he is still wearing her necklace. As he reaches behind his neck to release its clasp he stops. ‘Kristen wants me to wear it.’ His hands fall away as if compelled. An off the wall idea strikes Wayne and he freezes. ‘No I’m not going to do that.’ He fought the silly notion for several long minutes finally yielding. He sat back raising his right leg to see that dimple behind his knee.
Frustrated and scared he shook calming himself by drinking yet another cup of tea. Wayne is aware many men regard drinking tea is a sign of weakness for a manly man. He sighs, walking back to his laptop. Searching the drive he discovers there is virtually no personal information. No letters, no notes no files saved that were gathered over time. It is as if his life is a blank slate. He recalls working as an intern at Cyber Technologies after his degree at M.I.T. He recalls Mr. Riley setting him up for his current position at Micro. Wayne can recite every detail of those early meetings with Sarah Melson that cemented the job for him. He can describe completely how his magical and mysterious Atlantis Software works. But he has no memory of anything prior to getting this job.
He stares at that photo of Sarah mesmerized drawing a blank when trying to recall a single event during his four years at High School. Not a single name comes to mind. That is not accurate. He recalls Megan Campbell Sarah’s best friend and how they frequently spent many sleepovers when they were in middle school. He remembers how she and Kristen rebelled against that preppy school and lost. There were many times she and her twin switched identities to get out of something. Like the time their mother caught them because of that damn dimple. When he tried to recall his M.I.T. memories there were none. Not a single name or experience came to mind. He could not conjure up a mental picture of his room at school. Instead two figures appeared in his head that of a pair of cold tired bodies rolling through a snow covered slope in the mountains.
Wayne sat upright staring at the laptop. The time in the lower left of the screen reported ten at night. ‘I have been sitting here all day and most of the night. Where has the time gone’ He suddenly grabbed his stomach ran to the toilet fell to his knees throwing up.
He woke on Monday morning to call in sick. Wayne could hardly stand; he is running a fever of 101. Jane patched him through to Bill Mason. “Mr. Mason wants to speak with you. Are you up to it?”
“The next voice he hears is Masons, “You picked a good day to call in. The shit is hitting the fan around here. Slaughter’s project is blowing up. Nothing you did, it’s his DNA projections his data is way off and the strands are breaking down.”
Wayne takes a deep breath, “It’s not Trident is it?” He prays his miracle program wherever it came from is not some kind of planted virus.
“No,” Bill responds quickly, “it is faulty DNA samples. They mysteriously broke down. Something like that is not supposed to happen. Yeah if you came in you would only get sicker. Hey I’m going to bail for lunch for a bit. Feel like meeting at Cattleman’s for noon? Whatever you have isn’t contagious is it?”
Wayne answers “I, don’t think so it’s my stomach revolting against food. I will try to get over there. But don’t wait if I don’t get there.”
At noon a curious Wayne Huntington entered Cattleman’s to be ushered to Bill Mason’s table. Mason looks up to the approaching Wayne. “You are right you look like shit. I’m glad you did not get dressed up it would not have helped. Jeans and a tee shirt looks appropriate considering your condition.” He tried to force a laugh but it fell flat.
Wayne sat offering a simple, “Thanks. What is so Earth shattering you dragged me out of my death bed?”
“I’m having a bit of trouble with Dreamscape. The idea is to feed it Slaughter’s victims dream printouts and it is supposed to produce a video showing the dreams. The damn thing does not render.”
Wayne narrows his brows thinking or stalling trying to offer a possibility. “Did you bring a hard copy data printout?
Mason pulls out a couple sheets handing them to Wayne. They are labeled subject one, and two. “Here are a couple. Like I said you feed it the info getting nothing the program refuses to encode it correctly.”
Wayne stares at the pages raising a wry smile. He spreads the pages onto the table pointing to specific lines of code on each sheet. “Look at these the extensions are not correct. See those commands?” He points to several others, “These are bad commands. No program could interpret them. Did you transcribe them in Trident?”
“Bill scratches his head, “No these are the originals made directly from the recording equipment.”
“I hate to tell you this Bill but your initial data is screwed. The problem is your research is flawed.”
Bill nearly in a panic replies in a nervous voice. “First, Slaughters’ DNA samples break down and now the recordings are flawed Melson is going to meltdown. Be glad you are not in the office today.”
The waiter appears greeting the two men. “Are you ready to order?” He notices Wayne, “Oh Mr. Huntington, How is your lovely fiancée, Miss Melson?”
“Very well,” Wayne answers as he reads the name tag adding, “Michael.” They place their orders with Wayne selecting the gentlest soup on the menu with tea.
Bill stares at him over the selections and the mention of fiancée, Miss Melson. “Is your Miss Melson related to the boss? I thought he had no family, other than a brother on the other coast. I think it was Jane who said he had a couple sisters. He does not have any kids.”
Wayne nearly chokes asking with a blank expression. “No kids?”
“Not that he claims, the man is not married and unless there is a lady somewhere
we do not know about. How old do you think he is?”
If Wayne managed to keep his stomach under control to this point it won’t last much longer. ‘How old is he? Reagan and Kristen are twenty-three. He would have to be a bit over forty, even if he was sixteen when he became a father. No wonder there are no family pictures in his office’ Wayne opted for a safe answer. “I’d guess no more than forty-five.”
Bill responds with a blank stare, “You are way off he is only twenty-eight. He’s one of those tech gurus out of Silicone Valley. He started the company before age twenty-one. I’m guessing your lady might be a cousin or even a sister. I have no idea if he has any of those.”
Trying to come up with an answer, Wayne resorts to a safe response. “I thought about the coincidence but Sarah is rather quiet about family. When I finally pressed her because of the resemblance she simply said she did not know him. We shrugged it off as a distant relative.”
Bill appeared to buy that not pressing for more. Wayne excused himself admitting he has no idea about Melson’s age. Leaving the restaurant Bill’s comments clash with messages received from Sarah. He clearly recalls her using terms like father, daddy and dad. He drives home in a panic unable to square events. ‘Why did this girl come to me and how did she know so much about Micro Tech if she is not connected to Melson? Based on his age according to Mason it’s impossible for him to be her father. I went to where she lives only to find a guard claiming it was boarded up for half a decade. When I snuck in I discovered an empty apartment and a note. Some screwy mirror hanging on the wall made me look like Sarah. Wait a minute, I did look like Sarah. To top it off a look alike claiming to be her twin gave me a song and dance and a key. Appearing as a girl named Sarah really freaked me out. Is this all a figment of my imagination? No I’m wearing her cross, I have her photo the waiter gave me and sully has seen her.’ Panic is becoming his normal state.
He once again sends messages via the computer and phone text to Sarah without any responses. Finally he gives up going to bed hoping perhaps he can find what he is looking for in another dream.
Wayne’s eyes open slowly focusing to see he is sitting in what looks like a waiting room. The reception area reveals the obvious; Wayne is sitting in a molded single cushion chair. One of the exact types you would expect to find in a hospital or in a clinic. The magazine rack and the television mounted near the ceiling is playing the Cooking Channel. It is a sure tip-off this is a clinic of sorts. His discomfort increases when looks down to see he is wearing a pair of black open toed flats. His painted nails showing through his clear hose are another hint. So is his teal skirted lap with painted well manicured finger nails reflecting a light pink. They are laying one hand on the other in that lap.
A man comes into view pacing back and forth appearing to be exceptionally worried. He looks familiar and as Wayne’s eyes gain full clarity he recognizes Kent Melson. ‘Oh shit, Sarah’s non father is in my dreams too.’ Wayne leans forward trying to hear their private conversation.
The nurse is trying to calm the agitated man and he is having none of it. “She has been in labor for eleven hours for heavens sake. Can’t you people do anything to ease her discomfort?” The nurse says something else the man did not want to hear. Strain as hard as he might Wayne did not hear what is said. She did, however clearly hear Kent when he bellowed, “If you don’t do something you will hear from my lawyers.” He turned walking directly toward Wayne. The nurse fled the room most likely fearing for her life.
It must be a mile across this room because it took forever for the man to complete his rapid stride toward Wayne. It took him so long Wayne had the time to hear a soft voice speaking from his left. “He gets like that sometimes sis. Don’t worry he is not mad at us.”
Startled, not noticing someone else is here he turns to see a beautiful girl. She is wearing a denim mini skirt; yellow cami and leather flip flops. She is the spitting image of Sarah except she is young, very young. She is the most beautiful girl he has ever seen other than himself. That thought almost causes a heart attack. He stares at her speechless worried the girl notices his blinking. ‘The girl must be no more than twelve or thirteen years old’ He thinks believing this is a nightmare not a dream.
It must be a mile across this room because it took forever for the man to complete his rapid stride toward Wayne. It took him so long Wayne had the time to hear a soft voice again speaking from his left. “He gets like that sometimes sis. Don’t worry he is not mad at us.”
A voice whispers to Wayne, “Thirteen and I’m not ‘The Girl’. I’m Kristen, your twin and you are Sarah. In case you have not worked it out you are thirteen too. This is not a dream by the way. Before you think nasty thoughts sister you need to know I can read your mind. I pulled you into the past to show you something.”
Wayne blinks; his soft identical voice to Kristen’s is heard answering. Her tone suggests there is not a care about who might hear her not even the man walking toward them in slow motion. “Yeah right.”
Kristen laughs, “You always have been a disbeliever which I find amazing considering what you can do. I’m surprised this little trick of mine is so hard to believe.”
Wayne glances to the oncoming Kent Melson then back to Kristen. “I found out yesterday he has no kids so he is not your father.”
Kristen shakes her head. “Jesus, will you please get it right. A correct way to phrase it would be to say, our father. That fall really screwed you up. Sis, I can’t hold him back any longer. I will have to bring you up to speed later. In the meantime just shut up and listen.”
The frustrated voice of Kent Melson lost most of its stress over his prolonged walk to reach his girls. “I’m sorry kids you had to hear me act like a wounded lion. I’m worried about your mother and these people seem indifferent. I called Aunt Jennifer she is taking care of your brother Kent and will be coming by to bring you home. She will stay with you. I know you are worried. Jennie will call the school so you can stay home tomorrow. I’m going to wait here until mom delivers.” Kent walked back to the desk and began asking tough questions.
“Do you get it yet Sarah my slow sister? Kent Melson junior is your brother. He is at home. Your sister, Jill is going to be born tonight. The Kent Melson your Wayne half works for is your brother.”
Wayne’s mouth drops open ready to challenge this crazy girl who claims to be Kristen. The girl shushes him. “There is no time to explain right now. I will visit you later. I heard the conversation at Cattleman’s and you needed to know this much.”
Before Wayne could respond he suddenly woke up to find himself on the sofa needing an emergency run to the toilet. It is still too early to get up though he is beginning to resist any attempt to sleep. An exhausted Wayne lays back down praying no more dreams visits him tonight he needs sleep praying Tuesday morning is delayed.
At the same time across an invisible divide. The unseen visitor remained silent as Kristen prayed over her sister’s bed. Kent Melson remains sleeping in his chair as the dark figure knows he will. ‘My spell will hold until Sarah’s sister leaves the room.’
Kristen’s senses a presence radiate causing her to rush in an attempt to reach through Sarah’s unconscious shield. ‘There is very little of my sister left. I fear I am losing her. Please brat you have always been a pain in the ass don’t change now.’
Kristen’s intercepted thought almost caused the visitor to laugh. A thought forced into her mind breaks Kristen’s concentration. ‘It did not come from my sister!’ Alarmed, she turns looking directly into the shadows eyes seeing nothing. “Who is there?” She demands receiving no answer. A chill envelops her, no not a chill it is rather warming. Kristen relaxes understanding the intruder does not harbor an ill intent. The young woman processes that thought, ‘Remember, Mister Huntington harbors your sister’s memories and he is in the wrong plane. Wayne must be brought back from the year 2013 to this side in 1964. It is the only way to make Sarah whole and time is running out. Think Kristen where is the breach causing this mingling of personas?’
The woman reels to face an empty corner. “You expect me to climb a Goddamn Mountain dragging Huntington up an icy slope and push him off a cliff? Are you serious? I’d have a hard time pulling that off.” Her words filled the room shocking Kristen that she said it aloud, surprising her she did not wake father.
An answer returns swift and certain. "Calm down child remember what happened the day before the hike. Wayne did not stumble upon you sister sitting on a rock. It was Wayne on the rock waiting for her. Huntington’s dreams have mixed things up. He is turning into your sister. Time is fleeting and Sarah has grown too weak to influence his dreams. It is now up to you." The voice grew silent. Kristen feels the breeze fading she can no longer sense the dark figure.
Either his tormentors took the early morning hours off or the stealth figure casts a blocking spell to allow some measure of peace. Whatever the reason, Wayne slept soundly over the remaining four hours until his alarm jarred him awake. For the first time in days he did not run to the toilet to lean over the bowl emptying the contents of his stomach. He showered, shaved and found himself at the table drinking tea. ‘What is it with tea? Oh, that’s right the aroma of coffee makes me wretch. It is the same with beer or any form of alcohol.’
He arrived at the office receiving a strange glance from Jane. He sensed for no apparent reason it is one of those knowing stares sending a chill up his spine. The woman simply said, “Morning Mr. Huntington are you feeling better?” ‘What is it in her tone that sends those chills? Does this woman know something I, don’t?’ He answered, “I’m feeling better Jane, thank you for asking.”
Melson is waiting for him; a very agitated Kent is standing by Wayne’s door. “Can I have a word?” The word took the entire morning as Wayne squirmed in his seat trying to figure out what this man expects him to do. Then without any warning strange thoughts enter his head. ‘Jesus, Junior you turned into a bigger prick than I could have imagined. Daddy would kick your ass if he could see you.’
Horrified, Wayne tried to grow smaller avoiding Melson’s gaze. ‘Relax Wayne he did not hear that.’ Again the man is startled fearing he is losing his mind. ‘Okay Wayne sit back and enjoy the ride.’ Horrified, he leans back fighting to melt away. He wants to be anywhere but here. Having lost all control, he cannot lock his jaws together keeping his words from flying out. They are not his words and as he listens he can see his long walk to the unemployment office.
“Listen ass hole, I’ve sat here while you ranted about the program not working when the problem is that quack Slaughter. You know what they say, garbage in garbage out. Do yourself a favor look at the initial data. Compare it to what he is feeding into the program. It is not the same.”
Melson’s eyes fly open no one dares speak to him like this. “Are you telling me Enos is intentionally feeding faulty data into the program?”
Again, Wayne’s invading voice speaks. “I did not say that. I said bad data is being fed. Your boy slaughter is not bothering to check what he feeds the program. Now be a good boy and do your homework before dumping on me. I came in here from my sick bed because Mason told me you were having problems. You didn’t listen to answers I gave him. Then you come in here jumping down my throat. I’m not even working with Slaughter’s garbage. I have a doctor’s appointment at one and will be taking the afternoon off.”
Melson stared at a shrinking Wayne who cannot believe what just came out of his mouth. To Wayne’s surprise Kent Melson smiled, “I’m sorry you are right. I didn’t listen to Mason. I will follow up and get back to you. “You take all the time you need.” He walked out the door leaving Wayne speechless.
Huntington sat is his chair shaking, “What the hell just happened.” ‘Uh you grew a pair? A bit too late though, Sarah was right about the other part. Let’s see what the doctor says.’ Wayne blinks, ‘where did that thought come from?’ He listened, waiting for an answer. He needs confirmation he has finally gone over the top. Kristen did not disappoint. ‘You got it sis a fully functioning plumbing department.’
“Don’t you get it little sister I just gave you a spine. Get yourself ready I will get the car and drive you to you’re appointment. Meet me in the supermarket parking lot.”
Those words came from inside his head sounding like they were spoken aloud. He had no control of anything that happened today. If the truth be known poor Wayne has not been in charge since he fell off that mountain. ‘I don’t have any appointment with a doctor. Now a voice in my head informs me she will drive. It definitely sounded like a female voice.’
Wayne walked into the reception area approaching June. “I’ve an appointment and will be taking the afternoon off. Melson is aware so please tell anyone who calls I’ll get back to them tomorrow.”
Jane nods answering, “Doctor Curtis’ office called a few minutes ago to remind you of the appointment. I was just about to buzz you. Melson was in there when they called and I knew better than interrupt. I hope you are feeling better. Something tells me you will do fine. Many of us have gone through this before. It is never easy but you can cope.”
Wayne stared at the woman listening to every word wondering, ‘Who in hell is Doctor Curtis. Cope, what in hell is she talking about? What does Jane know that I don’t?’ “Thank you Jane, I will call to let you know.”
He walked out the front door crossing over to the market parking lot. He is not expecting any driver waiting for him. He fumbled into his pockets feeling for his keys while walking through a busy parking lot. A blue Mustang pulled in beside him. Kristen without the dimple is driving. He could tell there is no dimple as she is wearing shorts. This caused him to smile relieved Kristen has finally come out of hiding. He jumps in leaning forward signaling a kiss is coming. She pulls back. Wayne’s eyes widen with surprise. “What’s wrong?”
The driver locks her greens eyes into a confused passenger’s. “Cool it sis, don’t you recognize me? It’s Kristen remember. What do you think? My calling your office for Dr. Curtis was a nice touch” She taps her rider on the knee with a gentle finger. “Come on I know you are in there Sarah.”
Wayne freezes glancing down viewing his skirt he, high enough to expose his knees. A cotton skirt felt as he presses his fingers against his sitting form. Startled he turns facing the driver. “Kristen, how did you get here? I thought you lived on the other side, wherever that is.”
Kristen shifts the car into drive pulling into traffic cautiously unlike how her sister performs the act. Sarah sits back, having replaced Wayne’s presence. Kristen appears calm she is anything but feeling under control. ‘That woman who intruded last night instructed me to be at the corner of Lawrence and Main Streets by twelve-forty-five. I have my doubts but it should deliver us to our side.’ She glances at Sarah, ‘It is hard to believe this is not my sister. That poor bastard must be close to freaking out.’ She places her hand on Sarah’s knee. “Relax Wayne I know it sucks but I am trying to get you back where you belong.”
Wayne finally speaks, “Where is Sarah?”
“You have not figured it out yet you are Sarah. Sarah is in a coma and fading. It happened from the fall. Can you remember the fall?”
Wayne lowered his eyes, “Sometimes it comes to me but it does not last. What do you mean I am Sarah and Sarah is in a coma? Spill fill me in slowly but only one thing at a time please.”
Kristen grabs the wheel tightly to steady her nerves. “Sarah from her coma sent her image to contact you. Do you get that much?” Wayne nods, listening doubtfully. Kristen continues, “She used dreams not daring to approach in physical form in case our brother heard mention of her or should accidentally see her. She does not want him to know she crossed the divide. The dreams could not be seen by him or attract his notice as a physical Sarah would. You see our brother crossed the divide to escape prosecution. He is five years older that is how he can appear to be the same age. I will explain all that later. It’s important but not regarding our current problem.”
Wayne’s head is spinning with this information. He does not know whether to laugh, cry or jump out of the car to escape this crazy woman. He does not simply because he is sitting here fully aware he is presently her twin. ‘How can I call her crazy?’
Kristen arrives at the designated corner driving Sarah’s 2013 BMW. The one created by the witches for her to interact with Wayne. Kristen feels the car move oddly. She cannot explain the noticeable shift she feels. Suddenly she recognizes a familiar scene they are back to where they belong even if it is temporary. The car morphed into a 1964 Corvette that should convince Wayne or drive him over the edge. The parking lot is nearly full when they arrive. “I hope we do not have to wait too long.” She offers to her nervous sister. “Hold it together go along for the ride. Eventually it will all be explained.”
Wayne sat legs crossed at her ankles. With a definite skirted lap revealing hose covered legs she cannot deny her feminine presentation. He either blocked the car’s morphing or is in deep denial as he made no mention of it. Kristen is holding her hand reassuring the frightened transformed male. The man known as Sarah takes a deep breath exhaling slowly, ‘get this over with.’
A smiling face exits a single pane door carrying a clip board with a stethoscope hanging around her neck, “Sarah?”
Kristen stands pulling her sister to her feet. The pair follows the physician’s assistant down the hallway to a weigh station. “115 pounds, very good.” They enter the exam room to undergo the blood pressure measurement and a hundred questions. Gloria’s chipper voice is heard, “Doctor Curtis will be right in.”
Wayne sits on the paper covered exam table legs dangling unable to reach the foot rest. ‘Even when I was six feet tall my feet did not reach the rest. Why do they insist on doing this?’
Kristen giggles holding her sister’s hand, “It is going to be all right.” Wayne returns her giggle with a doubtful stare.
A tap on the door precedes a tall woman entering. She introduces herself as Kaitlan Curtis. “Hello Sarah it is good to see you again. We have good news.” She sounds too happy for Wayne’s comfort. “I understand your wedding was lovely. I read about it in the paper.” She takes Sarah’s hand offering, “That is a magnificent ring. Your test came back and yes, you are about six weeks along. It looks like twins.”
“Wayne wants to scream. ‘How is this possible? Well wait it is a stupid dream and I have a woman’s body in this dream. No big surprise but next they will be telling me Wayne is pregnant with Sarah’s babies.’ “I thought as much, when am I due” he answers cautiously. ‘When am I due? The doctor says I’m pregnant and I simply smile saying I know and when am I due. Get a hold of yourself this is freaking nuts.’ His thoughts are broken by a squeeze of his hand from Kristen.
“My best guess would be the second week in May. I want to see you in two weeks. There is nothing to be concerned about. You don’t smoke, remember no alcohol and I will see you soon.”
Kristen leads a stupefied staggering Wayne to the car. She smiles hearing his panic as any woman would do finding a male in this situation. “Kristen, this is never going to work. Get me out of this.”
The car pulls up in front of Wayne’s apartment house and he steps out. Kristen rolls down her window. “Take it easy, breath deeply; I will keep working to figure out how we can sort you and Wayne out. You belong home with us Sarah and your babies need you. I guess the results answer Sarah’s question about balls or pussy. We are twins nothing gets passed either of us. I have to be going now. I will keep working to find a resolution.” Wayne kisses his sister’s cheek deciding he will go along with this charade. Kristen pulls away from the curb disappearing down the road.
Wayne is suddenly back. He knows this is yet another bizarre dream as he climbs the stairs. Wayne empties his pockets tossing the content onto the table. Tired from a long and frustrating day the man lays down expecting to wake up. An hour or so later it seems staring at the ceiling did not change a thing, he sits up. Wayne sorts the items on the table absently as is his habit. His eyes grow wide upon seeing an appointment card from Dr. Curtis’ office. Next to that is Sarah’s key and electronic card.
The Plan
Kent Melson meets with Enos Slaughter trying to sort through a myriad of problems with project 67. It is on the afternoon Wayne visited the doctor’s office. “What do you mean the data is deteriorating? Did you pick up a virus or something? We spent millions on security systems to prevent things like this.” Melson's outburst is the tip of the iceberg as he is livid fearing the collapse of his company. Everything is riding upon a break through. Melson already spent money he anticipated from sale of technologies. He counted on billions from a program allowing the military to produce super beings to fight their wars.
Slaughter had no excuses. He did not check his data as suggested by Huntington at their last meeting. Over confident his systems were fail proof, Slaughter did not check. “It appears the intruder inserted a wipe program to infect the data. It has to be some zealous shadow group against progress.”
“How long do you anticipate it will take to clean up this mess” Melson challenged his top scientists. “What of the duplication process where we can create clones of wealthy people for spare parts?” Melson's frustration is clearly bubbling over.
“That is on target but it is time consuming. As you know an embryo brought to term grows at the same rate as any other human. Once they reach viability to have parts harvested the money will roll in. I have several Hollywood types itching to purchase their own spare parts factory. That is why you are working to buy that private school. It is an ideal place to house them. ”
All the while Slaughter is rambling Melson is bobbing his head up and down. “Okay I get it eighteen years before a harvest. Is there anyway to speed the process up?”
Slaughter blinks, “Christ, you mean like the Cylons? Create an adult body and download the fools into it? It will not in happen in our lifetime, someday perhaps but not anytime soon.”
Melson desperate for any good news presses. “Dreamscape, have you been able to record your subject's dreams yet?”
Slaughter, nods admitting they can adding a qualifier. “The initial run on that Atlantis program suggest we can, however the data was corrupted by our intruder. I need another round of sessions to collect new data. Once verified we can go to stage two implanting ideas forcing people to act on what we tell them to do. It is perfect mind control with applications from elections to car sales. The conservatives will never win another election.” Slaughter laughed at his last comment.
Melson frowned, “What you are saying is we have been set back months at the risk of hundreds of millions.” The meeting ended with a resolve to push harder and further. Melson stops at Jean’s desk. “Jean, I left a message on Huntington’s desk about a meeting tomorrow. Remind him in the morning when he comes in I want to see him ASAP.”
That evening when Kristen visited her sister in the hospital she appeared exhausted. Dropping down in the seat she faces her mother. Eleanor Melson maintained her good looks into middle age. Don’t tell the woman she is middle aged it will not set well with her. She is for lack of a better descriptor a replica of her daughters only twenty-three years older making her somewhere in the area of forty-six. She appears to an unknown observer to be thirty something. She weighs no more than the twins and shows almost no sign of aging. Eleanor glances up to a frazzled Kristen. “How did it go with your sister?”
Kristen tilts her head toward the sleeping woman in the bed. “She is my sister. If you ask how my brother in law is doing I can report about as well as can be expected. This could be a family first. Wayne is six weeks pregnant. Beyond morning sickness and the usual paranoia accompanying pregnancy the boy’s not doing too badly. How in the hell do we undo this mess?”
Eleanor allows an elongated sigh followed by a shrug. “I have no idea other than have them climb the mountain again and try going through the portal one more time. Perhaps what was done can be undone.”
Kristen appears shocked at that idea. “Mother just how in hell do you expect her,” she points to the comatose Sarah. “To climb a mountain? Oh I get it; you expect I will carry her up on my back. Then when Wayne jumps I will throw my sister off a cliff. That plan will work. You have to do better than that.”
Eleanor shakes her head, “Don’t be that way Kristen we will figure it out. How did you manage to bring Wayne over here to the doctor’s office? Can’t we do something like that?”
Kristen considers the question rolling her eyes. She knows how taxing this is on her mother. ‘It is understanding she simply forgot. Perhaps even after experiencing shifting between worlds the tired woman simply blocked it out.’ “Remember mom, that lady gave each of us keys? We can open a portal when we need to until this is worked out.”
“I know dear this is so confusing. First your brother brought the government down on us. They took everything we had. Then that lovely Fiona came to the rescue and we found security here in the past. Sarah found Wayne and we were so happy until the accident.” Eleanor’s voice tails off into silence.
Kristen hugs her mother, “I know mom, Sarah is a fighter she projected her image through the divide to contact Wayne. She did it through dreams. The effort took all she had and now I am carrying the fight for her. Fiona asked me to continue acting as Sarah to help get Wayne over here.”
“You did all of that using the key? I don’t understand this at all. It is illogical.” Eleanor is clearly exhausted spending night after night sitting by her daughter’s bed fearing the worst.
“Mom I was able to cross the divide a few times and be seen by people over there. I brought Wayne physically across the divide to the doctor’s office and through a dream to the hospital the night Jill was born. That sounds crazy somehow Fiona was able to send us back for Wayne to see. Which reminds me I have to bring him over for another appointment in two weeks. That is unless, this situation is figured out by then.” Then a voice interrupted Kristen.
“There is a resolution but all must agree.” Both Eleanor and Kristen nearly jumped hearing a third voice when no one else is there. Sarah is clearly still in her coma. The figure who sat in a dark corner finally speaks. Slowly a young woman wearing a long denim pencil skirt is becoming defined in the once empty chair.
Both women relaxed seeing Fiona appear, her method of popping in can be unsettling. Kristen presented a hopeful look. “I know their identities are mixed up and I have two questions. How is it Wayne presents as himself and other times as Sarah? This is driving me crazy and him too for that matter.”
Before Kristen could continue Fiona held her hand up slowing the girl. “Let me answer one question at a time. Wayne has almost no memories of his own. They are all in your sister’s head. You sister is strong willed and,” Fiona is interrupted by Kristen’s laugh.
“No shit tell me something I, don’t know.” Kristen flushes, “Sorry.”
Fiona smiles continuing gently, “And her strength is forcing her persona to the forefront. In a short amount of time Wayne will present only as Sarah. He will be lost to us.”
Both women gasped at that with Eleanor exclaiming, “Does he know this? You said there is a resolution.”
Fiona answers in a steady voice. “Can it be undone, perhaps but not without a lot of work. We need Wayne’s cooperation or nothing will change. Kristen I need you to use your key to meet with Wayne face to face. Explain to him the situation and convince him to cross over with you. Bring him to your mother’s house. If he does not agree your sister will likely die.”
Both women fell back in their seats gasping. Eleanor blurts, “Why wouldn’t he? Wayne loves Sarah.”
The witch smiles offering a sobering answer, “You are forgetting Wayne has no memories of a marriage to Sarah. He did not recall your sister even when she interacted with him at Micro. He has no memories of his own prior to a few days before he went to that job. You must convince him though he is figuring it out. Self survival may drive him if nothing else. His insides are more Sarah than Wayne. If Wayne survives you will have twin girls. Bringing Sarah back eliminates a man’s biggest nightmare.”
Kristen laughs evilly, “That should do it. What about Doctor Curtis she works here at the hospital. How can she not know Sarah is in a coma? She is treating my sister through her pregnancy and has not asked how a pregnant woman wakes from her coma to keep a prenatal appointment.”
Before Fiona or Eleanor can address the last question, Fiona raises her brow seeing Doctor Curtis stepping into the room. “You are just the person to answer a sticky question. Kaitlan will you explain it to my friend here?”
Doctor Curtis leans over Sarah checking her vitals raising a concerned look. “That question is easy. I am Fiona’s sister and Guardian of the 2013 side. I have held back a little bit. I know all about Wayne but as his doctor I’m worried. I told you, Fiona sticking me with this job could cause a conflict of interest. I’m torn between doing what is best for my patient and what is good for the divide. I’m afraid the poor boy will have a nervous breakdown. It could happen you know. Men are so weak. I hesitate to do what I should. That is pick him up and drag him over here then casts a spell on him. Letting him think he has always been Sarah is easy enough to do.”
Everybody looked horrified. “But you won’t do that will you Kaitlan?” Fiona interjects, “So tell me sis you have it all figured out.”
Kaitlan ponders for a minute. “There are many problems. First there is no guarantee a memory transfer can be done cleanly. There is a great likelihood bits and pieces will be scattered. Second, Sarah is not likely to make it. She is far too weak to carry twins to term. She may be too weak to recover without this complication.”
Fiona expected Kaitlan’s response just like she expected the horrified faces of the women in the room. ”You must face the facts the girls will not make it, at least as things stand now. Even our powers cannot rectify that. If she were seven months along it would be easy but not with eight months to go. As much as I hate to say it Kaitlan you know what needs to be done regarding Sarah she is almost out of time.”
Again, both mother and sister display horror. Kristen, the fighter begins to object knowing where the witch is going with this. Kaitlan halts her.
“I’m not going to do that. There is still time Fiona, remember I am a doctor. My advice is to have Sarah transferred to home care. This hospital can do nothing for her and they are about to request the family pull the plug. Taking this act gets them off the hook. I know Fiona can keep her strong enough until Kristen can get Wayne over here. I may have a solution. In the meantime I have to deal with a certain Mr. Melson and his project.” Kaitlan suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Wayne’s phone is ringing at seven am. He had just managed to get sleep after a long night of tossing and turning. Events pulled him all over the map presenting images that seemed scattered. In his dreams he saw that snowy ledge, Sarah’s prom, that empty apartment behind the locked gate and that flirting woman who appeared from nowhere. He understands at some level he is deeply connected to Sarah Melson. The ringing continues and he jumps up feeling all manner of aches and pains.
“Hello?” he answers his voice sounding off. The reply he receives is rather odd.
“Excuse me I may have the wrong number. Is Wayne Huntington there?” The voice on the phone sounds familiar, it is Jane from work.
Wayne forces a scratchy weak but slightly deeper groggy voice. “Wayne speaking, is this Jane?”
“Oh my,” the woman answers you sound awful Mr. Huntington. I have some distressing news there is no need to come into work today. It is better for you, if you don’t. I went in early to find the door padlocked with a police notice. I just walked away not reading it beyond the words, ‘seized by order of the FBI.’ I know you did not have anything to do with what these people are up to. I’d thought I’d warm you. Good luck Mr. Huntington.” She hung up leaving Wayne speechless.
He sat staring at the phone letting the shock sweep over him not knowing this is only the first earth shattering event to befall him. Suddenly, he felt a swelling in his breasts and a pulling down below. Wayne jumped up running to bathroom knowing what is coming next. The cramping stopped his breasts swelling slowly eased as he faced that mirror. Sarah gazed back at him smiling. He realized it is his reflection not the girl who teased and tormented him at the same time.
Wayne turned from the mirror knowing what she has to do. Sarah’s key reflected light from the window beckoning him. He turned to dress deciding to wear a simple peasant skirt and white tunic. It is turning cold outside so he grabbed a sweater and rushed out the door. His ten year old Honda balked starting at first. Grinding the key while spitting various cuss words it finally turned over.
He drove the ten miles to that paved lane on route eighty-six not knowing what to expect. The gate is locked but there is no guard or for sale sign. ‘Perhaps they finally sold it.’ He thought while swiping Sarah’s key. The gate opened allowing Wayne to drive the mile long two lane road. The speed limit sign not present before read ten miles per hour. A strange feeling overtook him causing Wayne to obey the limit. He could not understand why because no one is in sight. He pulled into a wide shoulder of the road when he suddenly felt dizzy. Here, the car turned, morphed or transformed before his eyes. As Sarah he is driving a 1964 blue Corvette convertible. ‘Good thing the top is up, it’s damn cold.’ Sarah thought.
As he reached the circle he could see considerable activity with collage age people rushing about packing and unpacking cars. Some girls waved seemingly recognizing the brunette driving the Corvette. Turning into the spur leading to Sarah’s apartment a young woman jumps into the lane waving him to stop. He slams on the brakes grateful he is going only ten miles per hour.
The woman opens the passenger door jumping inside. She is wearing a bulky sweater and jeans sporting a wide smile. “Sarah, when did you get back I hear you got married? My God just last week they said you had a mountain climbing accident. Then I heard you were in a coma and not likely to come out of it. I’m so glad you proved them wrong, Doctor Melson.”
The car is not moving and Wayne can only stare at this woman. ‘Who the fuck is this girl? What is she talking about, Doctor Melson? I have finally gone off the deep end. Wait a minute she is my roommate Rachel Taylor. How do I know that?’ Wayne shakes his head wondering where these memories come from. It is a Sarah memory. “Rachel, I, don’t know how it happened. I just woke up like I had a long sleep. There are some things I am confused about but they should sort themselves.”
They hug like old friends for five or more minutes. Rachel finally pulls back, “My God Sarah, I forgot you got married and he err you are going to have a baby. Did he do this while you were knocked out?” Rachel begins to laugh until Sarah poked her.
“I have to pick up my stuff; mom told me they want me to clear out my junk. Somebody else needs the apartment.” Wayne has no idea where all of these comments are coming from.
They finally arrive at the cabin with Wayne dreading what comes next. It is Rachel who solves the new girl’s dilemma. “No worries, Kristen and I spent yesterday packing your crap. Kris took most of it home for you. There are only a few boxes left. Did you and Wayne find a place of your own yet?” Rachel lowers her brows, “Sorry I should know better than that. You were in no shape for house shopping.”
Sarah touches Rachel’s arm, “No worries I understand.”
While Sarah and Rachel load the trunk with the remaining boxes Rachel talked non stop. Sarah gazed at her diploma proving she did graduate from medical school. The girl, no woman is a doctor. The thought suddenly struck her, ‘we will lose the twins.’ She finds herself sitting behind the wheel with Rachel leaning against the car looking at her.
“You have my number you’d better call.”
As the new Sarah drives away promising she will she is terrified over where this road will lead her.
“I can sense Wayne is on this side he,” Kaitlan pauses, “or she should arrive shortly. Is everything ready?”
The four women and one man all stare at Sarah’s nearly empty shell hooked up to tubes. Kent Melson who has been functioning in a fog since the accident speaks. “I have lived through some fantastic events ever since the upheaval in our time. I’ve gotten used to a lack of technology and my son betraying his family. This,” he points to his daughter lying comatose and her husband’s empty shell, “is beyond believable.”
Fiona tries to settle the man. We have worked out a solution thanks to a trip into the future. When Kristen broke into your son’s lab she stole a DNA sample of Wayne’s. We can use his DNA to solidify Wayne’s body when he arrives. That way Wayne stops transitioning into a Sarah double.” Kaitlan begins to explain the process.
“Wayne harbors your daughter’s memories and his body is transformed into hers. We halt that reversing the physical changes. When he arrives you will see Sarah. Our solution is to transfer their memories into their own bodies. Sarah will wake up and Wayne will be whole again. There is one problem when we do this alteration of Mr. Huntington’s body the twins will be lost.”
Kent scoffs at her solution. “Transfer the twins along with the memories. What you purpose is too fantastic to believe in the first place. If you can do that why not simply send the twins along?”
Fiona looks to Kaitlan who reaches for an answer. “I did not want to worry you but I see there is no other way. It takes tremendous power to pull this off. Your daughter even with her memories back and losing Wayne’s is very weak. Placing the twins into her womb will no doubt tax her system. She may not survive but the children surely won’t. It will take Sarah many months to recover. Without the burden of pregnancy she will be awake and able to care for herself. If we place the twins inside her she may not wake up. Her body will react in protective mode shutting down everything not essential. You must face the facts children will have to wait until a future time if at all.”
Trying to lighten the mood, Fiona directs a question to Kaitlan. “While I have been preoccupied with this project what is going on in the other worlds?”
“Sis haven’t you felt the tremors?”
Fiona nods, “Yes but I’ve been so busy I have not had time to examine it. Even my husband Hugo noticed and you know how wrapped up in things he gets.”
“Audrey had a meltdown a total and violent meltdown. You know Audrey and her temper. I’m surprised considering her love of all things technology brings. She has all the toys. Her world of 2180 whatever just went through a reset. A radical reset, for Christ sake Lincoln is the president.” She laughs, “Can you imagine Audrey parading around as Laura Ingles? She looks great wearing long calico skirts. Her world is 1865 now. According to Audrey the Progressives screwed the world up so bad it was time for a do over. But I’m not done yet. My software company, the one I named Atlantis completed its job.”
Kaitlan turns to Kent. “I will let Wayne explain it to you when he can. Atlantis did a complete purge of your son’s evil plan. The world is not ready for his scheme of power. This time he did not get away. All of his data has been purged and he is facing trial. The FBI has him nailed. So now we wait for Wayne to arrive.”
Fiona sits back quietly considering then suddenly she excuses herself. “I will be back in a few minutes.” She disappears into a swirling fog.
Wayne still looking very much like Sarah drives down the lane from Sarah’s apartment trying to recall Rachel. Sarah’s memories do not fail him as many pleasant places and times shared with Rachel come racing back. As she approaches the gate expecting to jump back to 2013 she notices the gate is open. ‘I don’t have to use Sarah’s key. Does that mean’ she smiles, ‘I think it does.’ She drives east on route eighty-six to the edge of town turning north instead of south east onto seventy-three. ‘I’m letting Sarah guide me and I remember where I’m going.’
The Corvette turns east on a county road driving up a steep hill where Jay Mountain comes into view across an extensive meadow. She turns into the long drive toward a house, a two story large Cape Cod. ‘Finally I am home.’
Her father, mother, Kristen and Kaitlan rush out of the house to greet the confused Wayne as he suddenly feels his Wayne presence begin to come back. “Welcome home Wayne.” The voice of Kristen is heard above the others. Kristen pulls him by the sleeve leading him into the bed room where Sarah sleeps.
Wayne stands there viewing his beautiful wife as tears fall. All the hugging received from those present does not help. He sits defeated on a sofa not taking his eyes of Sarah. “What do we do now?” He inquires defeated.
Kaitlan speaks advising Wayne of the plan. “Once we complete the transition Sarah will wake and you will both be whole again. Are you ready?”
Wayne hesitates he is sensing a message in his head. It is coming from Sarah. Not his file of her memories stored in his head but from the sleeping girl in the room. ‘There is something you must know.’ A series of pleas and desperate wishes flood his brain. Wayne suddenly understands what he has not been told. He knows what he must do for the woman he loves.
The half man half woman gazes at everyone in the room. “There is a lot you have not told me. Sarah opposes your solution. She tells me she will not come back under these circumstances. You must find another solution.”
Kaitlan sighs, “I’m sorry Wayne this is the best we can do. There is no alternative. Sarah is too weak to communicate. We have not been able to get through to her. It is almost too late. We must act now and I confess we did not tell you everything.”
Wayne suppresses his anger simply responding, “Then tell me now.”
The doctor and witch fills him in with the details including how the twins will not survive. She takes great pains to offer comfort suggesting they, Sarah and he will have a lifetime together. They will work through this and in the end things will get better.
Wayne still objects hesitant to fail Sarah and her dreams. “I don’t know, there is something wrong with this.” He almost jumps back when he sees a woman step out of the wall where there is no door.
Fiona has returned smiling broadly. “Wayne you are a wonder full of surprises. Kaitlan there is something I have not told you and I’m not revealing my magic now. Trust me I can fix this.”
Kaitlan and the others stare at the beautiful blond from another plane of the divide. Fiona walks over to Sarah’s bed placing her fingers on the woman’s brow. After a long minute she says to the comatose woman. “I thought so; we are going to take a trip.”
Wayne’s jaw fell to the floor when he viewed Fiona, Sarah and her bed disappear. Within seconds Fiona is back without Sarah. “Are you ready Wayne?” He nods suspiciously not completely sure but nods anyway.
Kaitlan burst almost screaming, “What are you up to Fiona and where is Sarah?”
“Don’t worry sister Sarah is fine she is in the diner with Hugo. Are you ready to go to Iowa Wayne?” She did not wait for an answer as both the witch and Wayne evaporated from sight. Those remaining simply stared.
Wayne finds himself in a room filled with computers. A man stands leaning over a console tilting his head toward Wayne. “Welcome to the mad computer operator’s office. I take it you agree with my wife’s whacky solution? You are nuts if you do, ain’t love grand?”
The man is laughing as the woman gives him a dirty stare. Fiona pops open a can of beer while pouring a cup of tea handing it to Wayne. “No alcohol while in your condition. You are sure you will do anything to protect your twins?”
Wayne cautiously responds “That is what Sarah wants. I will do anything for her.”
“Anything you say, do you know what your words imply? In other words be careful what you ask for.”
Wayne’s eyes grow wide and Hugo starts laughing. “When Fiona says be careful understand she means be careful.”
“I will lay it out for you then you decide.” Fiona says to Wayne as he nods his understanding. “As you know Sarah cannot carry your twins to term and obviously as Wayne neither can you. There is a way but not without great costs to you.”
Wayne blinks, “Whatever the costs Sarah is worth it. Tell me how much is it?”
Fiona shakes her head, “I think you are misunderstanding. I am suggesting you remain as Sarah until the babies are born. Are you willing to do that?”
The man shrinks at the thought considering how ridiculous this sounds. “How can you do that? I will do anything for Sarah so yes I will.” Wayne considers what he just said and the horror of it begins to set in as Fiona answers.
“Your body is slowly morphing into hers as we speak. I can stop that and you will remain as Wayne. Sarah will remain as Sarah. We then need to transfer your memories back to where they belong. If you agree I can also accelerate your body’s change into Sarah. You will remain pregnant and progress through the gestation process completing delivery. You may continue through the nursing period if you wish. We can through Hugo’s technology create a replica of your body Sarah can occupy. The question is how many memories do not transfer. We can’t be certain of this. Are you willing Sarah has given cautious assent?”
Wayne thinks, ‘What the hell, it is not like I have no experience with her body.’ and nods. Fiona wasted little time issuing her command. Wayne did not notice anything until he looked down to see himself as Sarah. That is when the panic set in, ‘What the hell did I do?’
Fiona smiles, “You demonstrated absolute love for another by giving of yourself totally. You are an amazing man.”
The new Sarah corrects, “No I’m an amazing woman.” Fiona giggles.
“I have another request from Sarah, she whispers in it in Wayne’s ear gaining his assent. Hugo upon seeing his wife’s nod activates the program.
Sarah now Wayne sits up dangling his feet over the edge of the gurney. “This is amazing and will take some getting used to. Come here my love.”
The new Sarah walks over to her husband who pats her belly. “I can’t believe you did this for our babies my love. It is especially so after how I tormented you these past few weeks.” Their embrace leads to a passionate kiss.
“Okay kids we still have work to do. You notice I left the memories alone because you both will need them to function in your new roles. I also fudged your degrees including the knowledge you will need. Congratulations, Doctors Huntington.”
Sarah and Wayne moved back to Sarah’s parent’s property building a small house on a lot cut from the main acreage. In just under eight months in May of 1965 Sarah gave birth to twin girls named Kaitlan and Fiona. Yes, they honored the two witches instrumental in their rescue. They sat on the back deck viewing a sunset as the girls slept. “It is almost feeding time Sarah how are you enjoying the experience?”
The new Sarah grits her teeth, “My breasts are so damn tender. I wonder how you women put up with this. At least the cramps and those horrid backaches have ended. The stretch marks have faded. Do you want to hear anymore complaints?”
Wayne, having clearly enjoyed his stand in wife’s misery kisses her tenderly. “You proved beyond all doubt your love. You did not have to do this. I would have understood.”
Sarah snuggles close to her husband. “I would have agreed eights months ago and I won’t lie with each freaking backache I cursed my decision. When I look at our beautiful girls I know I made the right decision.” She narrows her brows, “I even forgive you for getting me pregnant on purpose. You think I did not know? Now that they are ready to be fed with solid foods I can enjoy those great clothes of yours.”
Wayne laughs, “And the periods and the wet spot in the bed and,” Sarah places a finger against Wayne’s lips shushing him.
“I know so changing back will be done as soon as Fiona can find time to get back here. She said any day now. So let’s see if we can put another bun in the oven.”
Wayne blinks, “If we do that we can’t change back. Fiona said a change can’t be made if the subject is pregnant.”
“I know.”
“Are you telling me you don’t want to change back? If that will make you happy I will make the sacrifice and let you keep those legs and that dimple.”
The new Sarah kisses Wayne. “Are you sure? I’ve grown attached to this dimple. We can tempt fate let the Gods decide.”
Chapter One Beginnings
I am sitting in the bed room banished to isolation until I am eighteen. For me that means at least three years. I heard mother is threaten to quit her job to home school me for the remainder of tenth grade through graduation. She is suffering major ticks in her right eye due to embarrassment because of me. Something about not being able to face her law partners ever again. It did not matter when I told her they do not know about this yet. In fact my parents are the only ones who figured it out. Ok so a few friends are in on it as well. They don’t dare say anything because they will be in as much trouble as me.
At first father laughed his butt off until he saw mom’s reaction. He knew then the appropriate resolution would be me only in the hot seat. That is when dad turned on me. Right now they are downstairs trying to create a cover story. I did not help when I said this was all mom’s fault for sticking me with this dumb name.
I am fifteen years old in tenth grade stuck with the French Canadian name Jean-Marie Lafleur. People here in Texas don’t understand a boy named Jean-Marie. Johnny Cash sang about a Boy Named Sue. It was Cash‘s premise if you gave a boy a feminine name it would force him to be tough. It may have worked for Sue but not in my case. They may as well have named me Sue. At least I could claim they were Johnny Cash fans. Texans could understand that.
You see Dad is a French Canadian. In fact he was named after a famous hockey player, Guy Lafleur. No relation but dad likes to let people think the hockey player is an uncle or something. Hyphenated names in dad’s culture are usually composed of two names from the same gender; such as, Jean-Pierre, Paul-Henri, Anne-Laure, or Marie-á‰lise. Less commonly, they are composed of one boy name and one girl name, with the correct gender name first, as in Jean-Marie for a boy or Marie-Jacques for a girl. Note that hyphenated names are considered a single unit together, they are the person's first name, not a first and a middle. To further complicate my naming issue in this country Jean is the female version of Gene. As expected the hyphen disappeared when people wrote my name. No one believes Marie is not my middle name.
You know how parents always resort to shouting middle names before a melt down. Like, Paul Michael get over here? When they throw out the middle name everybody within ear shot knows you are toast. It is far worse if they yell Paul Michael Jones. That is reserved for major offenses. Mom always used a gentle tone every time she said Jean-Marie. Anyone who heard thought ‘uh oh the kid is in trouble.’ She never said Jean hyphen Marie. So how are they to know the hyphen is there? Naturally, they think you are in trouble. Of course mom used the French pronunciation of Jean but Marie is all they ever heard. You would think mom would have wised up after hearing how pretty I am more than a hundred times from strangers.
Yes, I know I am taking awhile to get to the problem. Everybody always said I am too wordy. It is a long story though and quite complicated. It was not only my name that created the problem. There were my friends and their stupid dare. Then the particularly evil computer game followed some more by my helpful friends. Now that I think about it the bullies did not help either. They are all factors not in the order listed.
Anyway here I am in a town of ten to fifteen thousand in West Texas. There is nothing poor about the place. Oil money has seen to that. I think it was a New Yorker though that set up the school system. Most thinking people understand high school consists of the Freshman, Sophomore, Junior and Senior years. What idiot puts ninth graders in middle school? That is where I ended up, Willis Elliot Middle School or the Willies as we called it.
My associates consisted of Craig (boner) Nelson, and Rocky Collins. I heard somewhere the nickname Rocky is given to stupid people or those with the given name Rocco. I will let you decide where Evan’s nick of Rocky came from. For the record boner is derived from the same source as Rocky. I would not want you confused thinking Craig was big in that way.
Boner lived at 22 Maple Street four doors from my house at 28. Rocky lived next to me at number 26. It was natural that three ninth graders living so close together either killed each other or hung out together. I would be remiss not to mention Pam, Becky or Tracy because they were at fault too. Though, it would take them another year to mess me up. Let’s just say Rocky and Boner started it. It is really sad you can walk the entire six blocks from one end of Maple street to the other and not find a single Maple tree. The same is true for Cherry, Oak, Pine and all the other tree streets.
Craig was a little taller than average at five foot eight inches and one hundred fifty pounds. Rocky is two inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier. I am lacking being only five foot two and one half inches. When I fill my book bag and stand on the scale I weight one twenty. That is the problem coupled with my other attributes. I wear my jet black hair in a feathered style. I sort of like the sweep lying over my brows. Pam told me it was sexy as it framed my oval deep blue pools. When a cute girl says sexy and deep blue pools in the same sentence when talking about me, I take notice. It does not enhance my macho image when delicate strands gently curl on top of my shoulders. You can’t see my ears because of the hair. Rocky told me I have ugly ears so I hide them. Ok so it is my fault I look more like Marie than Gene. I prefer the American Gene to the drippy French Jean Marie. That is until this problem and I admit I rather like it now. I know I am getting ahead of myself again.
I find myself being clever placing a water balloon inside Ray Walker’s locker door. Oh, I forgot to mention the lockers sometimes stick open if you don’t add an extra twist when closing them. Something to do with the Texas heat I think. Ray is one of those guys who likes to bump me into doors and walls. I thought it was funny when he opened his door and the balloon broke. Ray did not. It was a minor victory but I had to spend several weeks avoiding him. Ray has several friends who really like my name because they never miss enunciating Marie. I have gotten used to the taunts. What really bothered me was when they escalated to demanding my lunch money. Of course, I never gave them any and usually found myself stuffed in the dumpster.
Puberty has not kicked in regarding me as it has for Boner and Rocky. They are suddenly getting bigger. Their status has not grown with their size. Like me, they are still computer geeks and not into the jock category. Size alone protects them from general bumping and in your face threats. Pam told me I needed to use manipulation and guile to avoid trouble from Ray and his friends. I thought about that but it sounded a bit girly to me.
Thanks to Boner and Rocky, they set me straight about that. In the early spring after three semesters of torment my friends pulled me aside. I will try explaining what I remember of the conversation. We were standing outside of school before the first bell.
“Look Jean Ray is only going to get worse. The girls are right you need to use stealth.”
That was Boner talking. Rocky jumped in.
“we are not always nearby. You know he waits until you are alone.”
I whined “The girls want me to act like them. I am not a girl.”
Boner raised an exasperated look and said something that made sense.
“You think the thieves in our D&D games are sissies? They use cunning and guile to beat the stronger rangers.”
The bell rang and we went inside. It did not take long for Ray to catch up with me. Between the first and second periods he trapped me in front of my locker. As I reached into the locker to get a book, his arm pressed against the door. I turned around to see Ray in my face. With nowhere to go I could almost taste his nasty breath. Whispering so the others could not hear Ray threatened.
“Give me your lunch money Marie or else.”
Ray’s stance with his arm pinning me against the locker presented an interesting pose. It reminded me of the football players and their cheerleader girlfriends. She would be in front of her locker. The football player’s arm was against the door and he is leaning in for a kiss.
In full panic mode I reacted. My thoughts were guile, thanks Pam. Stealth mode from my role playing games provided my rational. I kneed him in the nuts. He fell back in pain kneeling on the floor. I could see Mr. Riley running down the hall and I shouted.
“Ray Walker don’t you try to kiss me again.”
Mr. Riley froze in mid stride the shock on his face was priceless. Ray’s court, exploded with John Mitchell laughing.
“Easy Ray, we know Marie is pretty but you have to control yourself.”
By then the whole crowd is laughing at and taunting Ray. Mr. Riley grabs him by the ear.
“to the office."
I guess the combination of my feminine hair cut, size and what I said momentarily confused Mr. Riley. With a concerned expression he asked,
“are you all right Miss?”
I nodded, “just keep him away from me.”
The principal called me into the office for my side of the story. I lied I said Ray tried to kiss me. Mr. Riley, still confused with his pronouns backed me up.
“Ray had her pushed up against her locker. He was in the classic pose of a boy about to kiss a girl.”
I admitted I looked like a girl adding more fuel to the fire.
“That does not give Ray permission to make sexual advances. I do not like boys that way.”
Principal Gibbons looked wary but did not challenge me. He suggested I get a hair cut.
Rocky and Boner went nuts telling me how great it was but I could expect to get killed. The rumor mill flooded the school with stories about Bubba Wilkins threatening to kill his kid if gay talk continued.
“No faggot will live in my house.”
That did not happen as Ray steered a wide birth when he returned from suspension. I thought it funny to watch Ray run in the other direction every time I smiled at him. I filed that experience away adding guile and stealth to my arsenal.
As the school year wound down the three Maple Street Marauders as we liked to call ourselves spent more time at role playing games. That is until Rocky and Boner discovered girls. I guess in their case puberty kicked in. Here in West Texas there are important social events. The primary focus after pick up trucks, beer and girls is football. That is until the Texas Rangers reached the world series the year before. My buds suddenly wanted to hit the diamonds that popped up almost everywhere.
Few bats were light enough to allow me a fluid swing. When I found one if I ever hit the ball it did not go far. Rocky and Boner were impressing the girls with their prowess. I watched often skulking back to my role playing games.
When you have three total babes living on the block your friend’s interest suddenly changes. Pam Michaels, Becky Williams and Traci Cox all fit in the babe mold. The problem is they are not stuck up all three met requirements as the girl next door. While my buds lusted after the girls shapes I noticed how they were dressed. It was the look and how different styles worked or did not for each of the girls.
I was sitting on my porch minding my own business when it started going south. I was simply Jean-Marie Lefluer a small fourteen year old. Picked on by bigger kids because of my name. The odd accent half French and Texas drawl did not help. When you grow up in a family with a French Canadian father you pick up his speech patterns.
Here I go wandering again. Anyway Pam walks by waving. I can see she is a bit upset.
“What is wrong Pam?”
“You would not understand,” she answers.
I shake my head, “try me.”
Like all girls will she was upset because some outfit did not look just right when she wore it. She really liked it but felt it looked wrong. I explained she should wear her hair a bit differently.
“Try pulling your hair away from your neck. The cut of the blouse will be enhanced if your neck is visible.”
She looked at me in an odd way considering a minute.
“I will try that, thanks.”
After another thoughtful gaze, Pam took off down the street.
I thought nothing more about it and returned to my spacing out. My cell rang it was an excited Pam thanking me because her outfit was suddenly perfect. If I were Boner or Rocky, I would have said something like.
“Great why don’t you wear it and we can show it off at the movies together.”
Those words never came out instead I said.
“I am glad it worked out.”
That was the end of that conversation and I was again alone on the porch bored to death.
Rocky and Boner were planning to try out for the football team when they reached high school next fall. We were all destined to attend Clayton Westmere High School. It was named after some local politician from a generation or two earlier. The girls attended Exeter Blakely Academy and exclusive private prep school. Prep because it sounded more impressive than High School and allowed them to charge higher prices. You needed impressive grades to be accepted and a minimum of B to avoid being tossed out.
It was no issue as far as I was concerned as I had no intention of going there. I have to admit the girls looked stylish in their blue blazers, gray pleated skirts, blue knee socks and white blouses. They told me they hated uniforms especially the stupid neck ties. I still thought they looked sharp. I could understand the male version was pretty ugly. Those pressed gray slacks, starched oxford shirts, blazer and tie is not an outfit I would wear.
Good old public school with my sloppy tees and jeans. I think that was the first time I considered how my hair would look with the girls’ school uniform.
I had taken to running with the idea of going out for the track team. All of us guys wore those baggy shorts in an attempt to be cool. I was complaining about my running and having trouble gaining speed. Becky heard that and smiled to Pam.
“Jean Marie helped you with your outfit last week Pam. You do owe him.”
Pam nodded saying
“it is the shorts that is the problem.”
I looked at her dubiously.
“What are you talking about?”
“Those baggy shorts look more like high water pants.” Pam giggled
Becky nodded “we call them capris.”
The two girls are laughing as my face reddens. Pam makes another suggestion.
“They have running shorts on sale this week. Come with us and we will show you.”
My buds smiled egging me on.
“Go for it” They both said.
That is how I ended up following Pam and Becky to Slater’s Sporting Goods. Pam steered me over to the salesgirl talking rapid fire.
“My friend Jean Marie needs a pair of running shorts. You have them on sale don’t you?”
I should have picked up on this right away and assumed the sales girl heard the Marie part of my name. I found myself in the Misses department.
“Jean Marie such a pretty name What size are you?”
I answered with my usual
“I do not know, small I guess.”
“Ah how sweet a French accent to go with the pretty name. Let me measure I am guessing a petite three.”
I should have balked and issued a protest but a sales woman thinking commission is quick with the tape.
“As I thought size three.”
She hands me a pair of blue nylon running shorts with a white swoosh where the pocket should have been. Fortunately, they were without any hint of gender.
“Try these on,” pointing to the changing room.
The girls pushed me into the closure giggling excitedly.
“Uh Jean Marie you are not wearing boxers are you?” Pam asked.
“No briefs.”
Both girls turned around blushing.
The shorts fell to mid thigh and fit perfectly. Not too loose or too snug.
“Good let's get them and get out of here.”
I said feeling somewhat foolish.
Becky encouraged me to wear them home while Pam kept staring at my legs. I noticed several high school boys giving me the once over in the food court. The three of us sat talking while one guy kept glancing in our direction.
“Who is that guy?”
Becky asked Pam.
“Dave McCauley,”
the other girl answered.
“I think he likes you Pam.”
“No Becky, he is looking at you. He attends Exeter don’t you recognize him?”
The conversation is interrupted when Dave approaches the table.
“Pam, Becky are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
He tilts his head toward me.
“I do not think we have met.”
I, fluster a bit trying to stifle my French accent but failed.
“I do not think we have. I am Jean Marie and you are?”
His smile broadens, “Dave McCauley. Do you go to Exeter?”
I answered with a short “no.”
“You should think about it for next year. What are you sixteen?”
Pam pokes him teasingly.
“Jean Marie is our age quit teasing you know better.”
Now it is Dave’s turn to blush.
“Sorry ladies you cannot blame a guy for trying.”
With that he walked off with his friends.
I turned to Pam and Becky.
“I know I am dense but was guy flirting with me?”
Both girls giggled again not answering the question. I did learn he is in tenth grade making him a year older than us. ‘A junior dating a Sophomore. That is somewhat acceptable.’ I suddenly snap to reality. ‘What are you thinking Jean Marie?’
I ran like crazy through the spring making the track team. There were several meets where I did well enough to gain some respect. At least most of the teasing let up and the bullies found other targets. Both Boner and Rocky grew bigger now six inches or so taller than me. I am in a holding position going nowhere fast. I do not need to tell you there are no girlfriends. Both of my buds found girls who wanted to date them. I was finding myself alone more and more. Until one fateful May evening when my cell rang. It was Traci.
“Hey Jean can you help me?”
I quickly noted she left out the Marie there goes the lost hyphen again.
“I, don’t know if I can I guess what is up?”
Traci was smiling. I could feel her bubbling grin over the phone. Did I tell you, she is perky? Traci is my height all five foot two. Her hair is a strawberry blond and long. She is stunning to say the least. If I had discovered girls, in other words hit puberty I would have massive wet dreams about her.
“I know how you helped Pam with her clothes and I need help with a skirt I am trying to sew. Can you come over please?”
Knowing better I should have come up with a creative lie. Nothing came to mind.
“I guess so” I answered.
A few minutes later I am knocking on the door of thirty Maple Street. Mrs. Cox answered the door.
“I am here to help Traci with her school project.”
Mrs. Cox ushers me in pointing to the stairs.
“She is in her room. Traci your friend is here.”
I heard a deep male voice call from another room.
“Emily, you know my rule. No boys are allowed upstairs.”
“I know honey it is Jean Marie.”
“Oh,” he answers “that’s ok.”
I could have sworn I heard him add “the nice girl from next door.”
Traci grabbed my hand pulling me into her room quickly closing the door.
“I do not want to embarrass you but would you mind trying on my skirt?”
I flushed,
“what are you nuts?”
Traci blushed
“Pam and Becky are away and you are my size. I will not tell anyone. I will not take any pictures or anything like that. I have to turn this in tomorrow. I cannot get the hem straight. It is too small for mom to wear and she cannot do it for me. Like if I wear it and she marks it up. The school considers that as cheating.”
Her plea was too much for me to resist. Those green eyes and her pout mastered to perfection melted my resistance.
“You won’t tell anybody not even Becky or Pam?”
“No I swear please.”
I exhaled slowly telling her
“hand me the skirt.”
“You have to take off your pants. I will turn around.
She turned facing the wall. I did not catch her peeking either. Well, I am not exactly a hunk. If it was that Dave, I know she would cop a peek. He is a hunk. What did I just say?
“Ok give me the skirt.”
She turns with her eyes widening.
“You are wearing boxers. They are too bulky and will throw everything out of balance. Wait a minute,” she concludes.
I watch Traci rummage through a dresser drawer. She hands me a pair of white nylon briefs.
“Use these I will step out into the hall while you change.”
“Are you serious?’
“Oh come on be a sport and the zipper goes in the back.”
She runs out into the hall before I can protest. The problem is those panties felt snug against my hips. There was no bulge because there is nothing to cause one. My testis have not dropped and my thing? Well there is not much to it. I shimmy into the skirt manage to zip it up and bleep.
“I am ready.”
Traci pops in rather giddy as she gazes at me. She kneels down playing with the hem adjusting it for length. The next thing I know she is telling me to turn slowly as she works the hem. She stands saying perfect when a knock on the door is heard. Traci tells her mother to come in. Mrs. Cox shakes her head.
“Traci it is too short. You have it almost three inches above Jean Marie’s knees. Take it down to an inch.”
“Aw mom,” comes her whine.
Mrs. Cox supervises while Traci adjust the length.
“There now that is much better. You can sew it tonight and thank you for your help Jean Marie.”
I nod face reddened a bit dying to make my escape when Mrs. Cox says one more thing.
“Jean Marie you are very pretty. You should wear skirts more often instead of those jeans all the time.”
Speechless, I can only smile as Traci’s giggling breaks the thought.
“That goes for you too Traci. Jean Marie would you like to stay for dinner?”
“I have to ask my mom, otherwise sure.”
That is how Traci and I became girlfriends. There would be no dates with her now that Mr. and Mrs. Cox were convinced I am the pretty neighbor girl. It is a good thing my parents work long hours and never socialize. At least they have not until now.
Through the spring, I spent considerable time with Traci, Pam and Becky. True to her word Traci never told the other girls about my skirt wearing. At least I do not think she did.
Chapter Two Symbols of Arcadia
Claude Lafleur, is my dad in case I had not mentioned it. Did you notice there is no freaking hyphen in his name? I would really like to discover there is a Louise or something like that. No such luck his middle name is Jacque. Well anyway he is a geologists working for one of the major oil companies. He leaves for work before I head out to school getting home about six pm. Sort of like mom, the lawyer who is at work just after sun up. She is home by five. On the weekends dad likes to wash and wax his BMW while I mow the lawn.
Dinner is usually at seven because of Dad’s long workday. The weather has warmed during mid May not that it is ever really cold here. At the dinner table I raised a simple question that should not have been a big deal.
“Do you mind if the lawn mowing waits until Sunday?”
Dad gazes at me his bushy eyebrows doing that curl signaling a long explanation about how the world order must be maintained.
“What is so important that you must postpone mowing the lawn?”
I blink thinking, ‘here we go again.’
Craig and Evan want me to go fishing with them at Round Lake.”
I use their proper names because dad does not like Rocky and mom freaks when I say Boner.
“What time do they plan on leaving? Those boys are not known for early rising.”
“Uh eight o’clock I am suppose to meet them at Craig’s house.”
Dad thinks a minute before his ridiculous answer.
“You can go right after you finish mowing.”
I blink protesting, “but dad Mrs. Cox next door is a doctor and the mowing will wake her up.”
My mother laughs as she glances toward dad. Mother always manages to get in the last word with a single glance.
“He has a point Emily works hard all week. It is not right to make noise that early Claude.”
Dad takes a deep breath.
“What time will you be home?”
I smile thinking I may have won.
“About five I guess.”
“Make it three you can mow then.”
There is no point in complaining because I know what the answer will be. I call the guys after dinner explaining I have to be back early. I get the usual teasing about being a daddy’s girl and not manning up. Whatever the hell manning up means.
The next day the three of us walk down Market street to the railroad tracks. We turn following the tracks south. Since the tracks form one leg of a triangle with Market and Exchange Streets, we save considerable distance. About a mile along the tracks we reach Round Lake. It is a short run through the field to the fishing hole. Boner suddenly stops as he spies a roll of brown paper in the brush.
“Whoa what is this?”
He picks up the package which has no ID on it and opens it. There is a flat piece of wood that looks like one of those six foot measuring sticks. There are lines every inch or so etched into the wood. As he tosses the paper aside a cd falls out. It is in one of those paper sleeves.
“What does that say? Symbols of Arcadia, whoa this is big time.”
I blink at Rocky’s excitement.
“I never heard of it.”
By now Boner has ramped up his expectations as well. I look down at the ground to spot a tiny web cam that fell out of the package.
“What is this?”
Boner grabs it from me excitedly.
“The cam goes with the game. Where have you been it is all over the net?”
Sheepishly, I admit I had never heard of it. Rocky fills me in.
“It is a role playing game where the game builds your character for you automatically. You use the included web cam to take your picture. You have to stand next to the stick. The game calculates your height and weight and muscle build from the scan the cam does. That is why the special cam. You then play your character and if you get through all levels the game company pays the team one thousand dollars each.”
Boner even more excited than before pushes Rocky to tell more.
“I heard about it. The game cost a hundred bucks or something like that. Let’s give it a try.”
Rocky shakes his head.
“I do not know I read where the government is saying it is dangerous”
Boner looks at Rocky like he is a jerk.
“These are the same fools who tell us Happy Meals will make us fat. Give me a brake the government is a bunch of idiots.”
We all said the same thing.
“You got that right.”
So much for the fishing trip. We turned around heading home. Having agreed to meet at Boner’s house at noon. Which would give me time to mow the damn lawn. After telling dad the fish were not biting, I got the mower out. It was the fastest mowing job I ever did. Meaning after dad checked it and I did it over again the job took an hour. Finally, after promising I’d be home by five I was off to Craig’s.
It did not take us long to install the program. We did not read the several dozen pages contained in the eula. In hindsight we should have. There is a hidden warning I discovered once it was too late. It said something about not playing the game in longer than three hour increments. The setup struck me as weird having never seen anything like it. The screen loaded asking the question “do you wish to create a character?” Boner jumped right in clicking the yes button. He was instructed to type in his name which he did. The screen flashed with a blue script against a white background it read.
Boner jumped right to it beaming with excitement. I watched as nothing appeared to happen when the screen suddenly changed. It instructed the next player step up to rod. Repeat steps one through five.
Rocky walked to the wall repeating the process. Then it was my turn to join the game. Nothing seemed to happen other than my picture was taken. The game suddenly shifted to a screen saying page two. We waited patiently as we were told character creation working on player one. A few whirls later the screen reported creating character two. Then number three and finally it reported please wait.
Then the game reported player one press enter. Boner hit the enter key to read this message.
Welcome Craig your character is Raul the ranger. Male, height five foot ten inches, one hundred eighty pounds. Health one hundred percent with a rating of hero level one. Craig looked at us with an amazing expression. The game reported Raul is team leader because of his pure heart and bravery. There was a picture of his character. A well built handsome warrior.
“They got the height and weight exactly right, amazing.”
Rocky received similar treatment. Welcome Troy the mage. Male, height five foot ten inches. One hundred seventy five pounds. Health one hundred percent with a rating of hero level one. Your spell casting ability serves Raul well as a valuable team member. Another well built handsome player appeared on the screen.
“Wow I am a hunk. This looks like a great game. Bring on the bad guys.”
Yeah those guys sound wired now it is my turn. I press the button with a sense of dread. I do not know why I felt dread. That is what I felt. Then came the sickening report.
Welcome Jean Marie your character is Saris the healer. Female, height five foot two inches, ninety eighty pounds. Health one hundred percent with a rating of heroine level one. The game reported mine is a pure heart filled with compassion. You are a virgin princess in love with Raul. The total babe staring back scared the hell out of me. I jumped back.
“Fuck this I am so out of here.”
Boner and Rocky pleaded they could not play the game or win the money without me.
“Come on Saris you have played a girl before one more time will not hurt.”
It was a desperate plea from Boner who was joined by Rocky.
“A thousand dollars each man we have to win it.”
They both whined causing me to fold insisting they don’t call me Saris. We forged their way through pillaged villages battling several types of villains. After working our way up to level three, we took a breath satisfied with our progress. Then it happened the game crashed. It did not really crash it fired up a warning.
We played another hour until I felt a bit dizzy. It was five pm and time to call it quits.
When I got home I took a shower and changed into my running shorts. There was more than an hour before dinner so I went outside. It was a warm evening and my tee was sticking to my skin. My chest was itching like hell when Pam showed up.
“Hi Jean Marie how have you been?’
I smiled at the pretty girl marveling at her perfect skin. How her light tan was enhanced by the color of her blouse. Her light makeup was perfect for her. Before I could finish my thoughts, she spoke again.
“What is that expression for you look odd?”
I blinked thinking of nothing I could say. Rather than keeping quiet my mouth spilled out a regrettable series of words.
“It is your blouse it really compliments your complexion.”
I knew at once I should not have said that or my follow up comment.
“Nothing is wrong my chest is itching something crazy.”
Pam smiled again receiving the compliment well but noting it strange a boy would notice such a thing. She flushed not sure if she should tell me what she heard.
“Do you remember Dave from the food court? He was asking about you. I thought you would get a kick out of it. Though, I did save your butt.”
I blinked again. I seem to be doing a lot of blinking lately.
“I remember him. He is the only guy who every flirted with me. How did you save my butt?”
Pam is now giggling having a hard time avoiding a full blown laugh.
“He wanted your phone number. He hinted he was going to ask you to the Spring fling Dance at school. I told him your parents did not allow you getting calls from boys. He looked defeated when I said that.”
Being a wise guy, I quipped something I also regret.
“Too bad he is such a hunk.”
Pam’s eyes flew open with surprise while her voice suggested suspicion.
“Are you Gay?” She softens her voice adding “I am only kidding I know better than that.
You worry me Jean Marie. You notice fashion style such as how my blouse compliments my skin. You tell me that Dave is a hunk and your chest itches. I am beginning to think you might be a girl. If you want to go to the dance, I have a dress that would look smashing on you.”
She pokes me teasingly before returning to her giggle.
I blush telling her in confidence.
“I was only kidding but this itching scares the hell out of me.”
“If it keeps up, you better tell your mom. Traci’s mother is a doctor you know. She could help.”
Mom calls me in for dinner and I say goodnight to Pam.
“Thanks Pam. I will consider what you said. Don’t give that guy my number I don’t need to hear from him.”
On Sunday the three musketeers were back in the world of Symbols of Arcadia. It did not take long to weave our way to level five. Ten levels to go for our thousand dollars. The game was getting weirder by the minute. We directed our players movements and actions. In level four they began to speak exchanging dialogue using our voices. It really freaked me out when Saris said to Raul “I love you.” She used my voice it sounded like me.
“Whoa dude this is bitching.”
I screamed out while Boner and Rocky almost fell over. I could tell they were freaked too. Cautiously Boner insisted we finish this level and shut it down. Rocky agreed and I was not about to argue. Saris and Raul stepped out into a meadow with Troy following. The screen flashed “Bonus opportunity.” We looked at each other puzzled. Boner clicked accept challenge. The screen changed again fading to black then revealing a chamber in what looked like a castle. Saris was lying naked on the bed.
“Whoa dude you are a babe.”
Yelled Rocky as two naked males entered the room. It was there Raul and Troy characters approaching the bed. Troy said you first then it is my turn. Another message appeared, with successful impregnation you advance to level seven skipping over level six. That was enough for me. I leaned over and turned of the breaker on the power strip crashing the computer.
“What did you do that for Jean Marie? It was just getting interesting.”
I looked at my buddies with a look that could kill.
“Guys the lady talks using my voice. If you did not notice we could actually smell the fires and the food in the game. If you think I am going to let you screw me you are nuts.”
They both laughed needling me a bit.
“Jean Marie it is only a game.”
Boner pleaded acting like he was hurt. I was having nothing to do with it. Rocky powered up the computer and punched the game’s icon. The welcome screen appeared followed by the blue screen of death and a warning.
“Whoa look at this you toasted it.”
Three of us stared at the tray to see a melted disc blended into the tray.
“Holy Shit!”
Boner was not happy blaming me for his ruined drive and loss of the game. I had to promise to buy him a new drive. In fact he walked me to the local computer store where I forked over thirty bucks for it. That pissed me off but I know damn well if I did not fry the game I would have ended up pregnant. How was I supposed to explain that to mom?”
Since it was only two in the afternoon and both guys were pissed at me, I wandered over to Traci’s. Mrs. Cox met me at the door.
“Hi Jean Marie, Traci is upstairs with Pam and Becky go on up.”
The girls appeared surprised to see me. Traci blurted out in a low voice.
“You look like you got run over by a truck.”
Still shaken from my experience in that game. I told them what happened. Like a shot all three girls tackled me.
“Group hug,” they yelled as I fell on my back. Each one kissed my cheek. I could not believe three gorgeous girls just kissed me.
“What is that all about?”
I asked from the bottom of the pile. As they climbed off Becky spoke.
“You proved to be a stand up guy by protecting that girl.”
The others joined in with “yes you did.”
I blushed enjoying the attention.
“I know you think I am nuts but if I did not stop them I would have gotten pregnant for real.”
Pam took my hand gently trying not to laugh.
“Silly it was only a game, you could not get pregnant.”
We talked for awhile and I confessed my fear had been real. I understood the worry girls have when they are pressured by boys. Again each one hugged me but none were convinced my fear was grounded in reality. Pam again offered to loan me clothes if I wanted to go to the dance. Again I refused.
The itching continued but I said nothing to mom or dad. My downward spiral continued Monday after school. It was the final track meet of the year. I did win one race and for the finale all single race winners were lined up for a final one hundred yard dash. This was a mixed male female race. I did not do too bad coming in second. As I bent over catching my breath I glanced up to see Dave McCauley approaching.
“Hey Jean Marie you ran a great race.”
I blushed not knowing quite what to say. Coming from the other direction was my mother. ‘What the hell is she doing here?’
“Hi Dave how have you been? I did not win so what the heck.”
He smiled warmly and without a condescending note he said.
“Jean Marie you beat the best runners in the district and they were all guys. That is impressive for a,” before he finished mom spoke.
“Great race honey I took some time off work to watch. Who is your friend?”
Before I could speak, Dave jumped in holding his hand out to greet mom.
“Dave McCauley Mrs. Lafleur. I tried to call Jean Marie but could not find your number.”
I jumped in quickly noting it was unlisted while I continued holding my breath. I prayed no one mentioned gender. I expected that bomb at any minute. Mom to the rescue one more time.
“Dave here is the number I will write it down.”
I offered more useless information to change the subject.
“Dave goes to Exeter Academy with Pam, Traci and Becky.”
“You do Dave? I hear great things about that school and those three girls are really nice. I am so glad they are friends of Jean Marie’s. How did you meet?”
“I met Jean Marie at the food court with the girls last weekend.”
My breathing is getting heavier as panic increases. ‘Just go please go’ my thoughts begged.
Mom broke the silence when she turned to me.
“Honey I have to go back to work. I am proud of your running. I am afraid I won’t be home until seven. I have an important case and there is much to do.”
That is when Dave came to the rescue.
“Mrs. Lafleur, I could take Jean Marie to dinner we could be back by seven.”
“How nice of you, do you mind honey?”
I nod sheepishly saying “I am all sweaty and my clothes stink.”
Fishing for any excuse waiting for Traci to come by offering me something to wear. Thank god, she did not. Dave zooming in on his opportunity like a hungry trapper said.
“I can run you home to change or we could do Burger King.”
“Burger King will be fine.”
I offer as mom smiles tossing out another great idea.
“You know honey we were thinking about sending you to Exeter. You are an honor student and we approve of your girlfriends. What do you think Dave?”
Oh yes Dave jumped on that as his smile grew. I did not know there were that many white teeth in a single mouth. I am thinking ‘mom leave just leave.’ Then my chest started itching.
It was the longest meal of my life. I ate a salad what is with that? I do not like grazing. I never did. Dave ate two Whoppers and a large order of fries. I bet he thought he was being cute when he suddenly reached forward feeding me one of his fries. Real cute, I looked around hoping nobody I knew was anywhere near. Before I forget to mention it, he asked me to the dance. I declined with the most gentle let down In my vocabulary.
“I am only fourteen and my parents do not allow me to date.”
He did not say much on the drive home. We arrived before my parents did, thank God. Dave opened the door for me and as I stepped out he looked like he was going to kiss me. Before he made a fool of himself, and me too I dropped the bomb on him.
“Dave, I think you have mistakenly assumed I am a girl. I am a guy.”
There I said it. I came out with the truth. There is no other way out. As I waited for his reaction it struck me. No way can I go to Exeter now the little fag story would be all over the school. My life there will become a living hell. I did not give another possibility a thought. The idea Dave would be so embarrassed he could not mention this at all. ‘How do I convince mom public high school is better?’
He stared at me for the longest time. I closed my eyes bracing for a punch. When suddenly his arms wrapped around me and his lips pressed against mine. It was the most amazing kiss I ever experienced. Considering it was my first kiss it would have to have been the best ever.
“That was the most creative turn down from a girl I ever heard.’
Dave said as his eyes flashed prior to his laugh.
“Jean Marie you are a very pretty girl and I love your sense of humor.”
He kissed me again and again I melted. When I caught my breath I muttered, “call me.” Then ran inside throwing myself on the bed crying my eyes out. What kind of an idiot says call me? My chest is pounding which is a good thing because it masks the constant itching.
I was in the shower when mom and dad came home a few minutes after seven. I heard dad call out.
“Jean Marie please come downstairs.”
That is when I got the news. They agreed Exeter will be an excellent choice providing a doorway to the best colleges. I am mixed about this. Sure it is a great school but what happens when Dave sees me in my guy uniform? I shrugged thinking, ‘what the heck that is five months off. Anything can happen in five months.’ Then I began to worry.
Rights retained by author ©by Essarr Permission granted to Big Closet Exclusively
Chapter Three Kick Start
My room has changed from what it looked like in the summer. I made some subtle changes as fall progressed into October. The Dallas Cowboy team banner is gone. I don’t care about football anymore. Not that I was a big fan in the first place. It has been replaced with a poster of a girl running. She is wearing a Syracuse University track team outfit. When I stare at it, I shudder. I look terrible in orange. That school is crossed off my list. I can still hear mom and dad freaking out downstairs as I stare at my Exeter pennant above the vanity. I still consider the creativity it took to convince mom I had a use for a vanity.
I, digress again having wandered from my tale of woe and how I sunk to this level. I suppose the longer I take telling you what happened the safer I am hiding in my room. As if I have any power to determine when a pair of freaked out voices will command my appearance.
Anyway it was the day after the magical kiss on another hot May day. The Tuesday before Memorial Day weekend when we are sprung from the Willie.
I am feeling pretty good after the successful track meet. I wore my running shorts to school. I did say it was bloody hot eh? The stares coming from the kids was unsettling. As I opened my locker I saw Craig approach. Now that he is crowding six foot tall and looking ripped, he has decided Boner is no longer an appropriate nickname. It had become clear over the last week if you called him that his reaction would be painful for you.
Craig is now dating. He is going with a pretty girl named Debbie Clayton. It bothers me to think my best friend has gone from constant companion to somebody I know. Craig is convinced his sudden development into a hunk has something to do with that stupid game.
“Hey Craig got a minute?”
He turned his expression signaled his answer was no but I went ahead anyway.
“Yeah, I wanted to tell you, I got a new game. Do you want to have at it this weekend?”
I could see the no in his face while I asked the question.
His voice broke my concentration.
“Jean, I do not have the time. I am going to the dance with Debbie Friday night. Saturday, we are double dating with Rocky and Joyce.”
The disappointment must have been evident in my face. Craig smiled adding a bit of advice.
“Bro you should lose the shorts. Your legs look too girly and the guys are noticing.”
I flushed as he walked away. Then looking down I suddenly could see what he was talking about. Sarah Collins walked by wearing a navy linen mini flashing her legs. She gazed at mine offering a wry smile but kept walking. I had this strange feeling something was wrong. Mark Taylor an eighth grade student almost walked into an open locker door while staring at my legs.
Was it that stupid game? All these changes to the three of us occurred after I blew it up. I could suddenly see in my head the message displayed as the game crashed. ‘Attributes saved.’ This is freaking me out. The class bell rang while I stood day dreaming against my locker door. I ran like hell to my next class.
As the teacher droned on and on I caught two guys, I hardly know staring at my legs. Worse I noticed I was sitting like a girl the way my legs were crossed. ‘This is going to be a hellish last week of school.’ I do notice with satisfaction how nice my tan looks. Even worse I spot Claire sitting in front of me. Her color combination is all wrong. Once again I shudder finally able to escape this place.
I almost reach my house when my personal torture is interrupted.
“I hear you are transferring to Exeter in the fall.”
A sweet voice is heard from behind. I turn to see Traci and smile at her.
“Yes, it appears so. I guess it is ok though my friends are all going to Clayton.”
She pokes me with a long finger.
“All your friends, what about Becky, Pam and I not to mention Dave? I heard about you going to dinner with him.”
Trapped, I blush defending myself lamely.
“He came to watch my track meet and we went to Burger King afterward. That hardly qualifies as dinner. It is cool I can hang out with you guys.”
I could see the deviltry in her gorgeous eyes. It must have been the Jean side of Marie that led me into the next trap.
“If you are not doing anything, come on over to the house. I have something for you.”
I agreed as it is hours before anyone gets home and my buds ditched me for the day. In Traci’s room she sits at her vanity as I dangle my legs from the edge of her bed. I watch her staring into the mirror as she fiddles with her hair. Her eyes keep glancing down at my legs. I could tell she was dreaming up yet another scheme.
“Jean Marie sit at the vanity I want to see something.”
I do as my curiosity is in control. I look into the mirror and see my familiar face. Not that I am bad looking but I am a long way from hunk material.
“Your hair is nice Jean. I love the silky feel and how it frames your face.”
A compliment is this girl hitting on me? I smile softly replying my thank you.
“Do you mind if I clear up some of these split ends?”
She asked innocently enough though I should of worried. Stupid me answered in the affirmative. When she finished my hair screamed girl. I looked at her accusingly.
“Look what you did. I look like a girl.”
Traci steps back taking my measure. After a thoughtful survey, she makes a weird comment.
“John Marie, it is not just the hair. You legs and there is something else. Remember when you helped me with my skirt project?
She did not wait for me to answer. Instead she pressed on with the most irrational suggestion.
“How brave are you?”
Even the most dense guy, I know would understand this is a loaded question. Especially when it is a pretty girl asking. Fully aware, I cautiously answer as noncommittally as I can.
“Brave, not vary I am rather timid in that regard.”
I thought ‘safe you wiggled off the hook Jean old boy.’ So I thought disregarding the determination of a pretty girl. She opened her closet door retrieving her Exeter uniform. Then executing the most perfect innocent pout I’d ever seen I melted.
“I will wait in the hall while you change.”
Dumbfounded I examined the hanger that laid on the bed. With great fear I raised it up to find a blue blazer which I removed. Under it I saw the white Oxford with buttons on the wrong side. Accompanying that is the wool pleated gray skirt. The forbidden garment that no true blooded male would touch. The exception being to raise it exposing more of the girl’s legs.
Several minutes later a tap on the door breaks my trance. I had been in shock from staring at a pretty girl in the mirror.
“Wow you are pretty Jean Marie.”
Traci said as she stepped closer.
“You should wear that to Exeter. It looks great on you.”
“Are you serious? They would kill me.”
That was all I could think of as a comeback. Traci raised a brow still gazing at me like she was trying to figure out what I am.
“Dave would like it. I can assure you of that. The boy talked about you all day. Did you know you have great legs, blinding speed, a great personality and a face to die for?”
I went into full panic mode hearing that.
“Is that what Dave said?”
Traci nodded simply bubbling with excitement.
“He is definitely gone gaga over you.”
In full panic mode I absently remove the blazer laying it on the bed. As I started unbuttoning the oxford. When the shirt fully opened and I am about to remove it there was a tap on the door. It opened to reveal Doctor Cox standing there. Traci had moved as I began to undress. Curiosity, surprise I do not know which but the girl just watched. Traci’s mom displayed a gaze of concern.
“Jean Marie your breast appear inflamed. Is that a rash I see?”
Trapped, my panic widened as I blurted incoherently.
“Yes Dr. Cox, they have been itching something awful.”
I noted Traci’s giggle as her mother stepped closer to me. The woman’s touch though gentle produced a strange feeling of stimulation.
“Many girls experience that as they develop. You have been scratching them and you should not. I have some salve made just for this purpose. I will be right back.”
Traci hugs me careful not to touch my chest.
“You should have said something. I could have helped.”
My face reddens forming a greater hue as I, fluster.
“What I simply say Traci my tits itch what can I do about it? No guy is going to admit that to a girl.”
She answers beginning with my name stressing the Marie half.
“I do not see a guy here. I see a pretty girl and you cannot deny that. Why do you pretend to be a guy?”
Mrs. Cox returned dabbing a bit of salve on my chest. She then hands me the tube and instructs Traci to leave the room.
“Jean Marie have you started your period?”
I blink mouthing the words started and period displaying horror in my eyes.
“No Dr. Cox.”
That is all that could come out. I should have said I have not because I am a boy to this kind doctor. If I did, she would have figured out something is wrong. Most likely I would not be in the mess I am in. No not I, I say no Doctor Cox without saying why.
“Honey it is not unusual for girls to develop late. Use the salve to calm the itch and have your mother get you a training bra. It will help by keeping your breast from rubbing against your blouses. I sent Traci out to avoid embarrassing you in front of your friend. I suggest you have your mother make an appointment with your doctor.”
I could only thank her and as she started to leave a sudden thought caused Doctor Cox to turn.
“Traci go into my room and bring back one of the garment bags off my bed.”
The girl was in and out like a flash returning with a plastic bag.
Traci opened it to find a new school uniform.
“Mom I did not need a new uniform it is the same as the one we are using. I have four of them.”
“I know dear. I picked this up on my way home. It was then I discovered they were the same. Give it to Jean Marie it will save her mother some time and money.”
“I, can’t accept that.”
I interjected realizing I am getting in too deep. Traci’s giggles are less than helpful.
“Jean my uniform looks darling on you. You have to take it.”
I grumble under my breath nodding a resistant thank you while lying the bag on the bed. Dr. Cox made her exit and I sat on the edge of Traci’s bed. By now I had forgotten Traci’s question asking why I pretended to be a guy. ‘Does she really think I am a girl? Her mother does.’
“You think that is funny don’t you?”
“Not as funny as mom giving you the skirt I made for my school project.”
I blink, panic growing as my face is beet red. Traci is still talking rapid fire.
“Look on the hanger the skirt is there. I do not know why you are complaining it looked good on you. Marie, that name fits you better. Those legs of yours are killer. Take the stuff home and hide them in your closet. I will call you tonight.”
Like an idiot I picked them up slung the bag over my shoulder and slithered home defeated. Once in my room, I folded the skirt neatly as I could. For some strange reason I know the material will not wrinkle easily. ‘Wrinkle why should I care?’ I hid it in my bottom drawer under several pairs of jeans. ‘What about the uniform bag? That will not be easy to hide.’ I do have a large closet so I hung it in a dark corner hoping no one would notice. You know how it is when you have a lot of clothes hanging on a rod. The thing crammed on the end is never seen. It is not like mom pokes around. She neatly folds the laundry placing things in a basket at the bottom of the stairs. She came up with the idea that she does the washing. It is not a big deal for me to carry my stuff up the stairs and put it away. It is hard to argue against her logic when the woman is so insistent. At least one rule works in my favor.
I looked in the mirror and saw those legs. ‘Shit they do look like girl legs.’ It is a problem but no worse than a few others I noticed this week. They did not look like that last week. My jeans do not fit right. I can barely get them over my hips while they are too loose in the waist. I cinch the belt as tight as I can creating a swell blousy effect. I reach for a rayon yellow top. ‘Did I say top? What the hell is wrong with me?’ Yes, it is a synthetic material not cotton. We are at a point where the fashion police whine cotton kills. So I end up wearing quick drying materials. The whole idea of being told cotton tee shirts are taboo and big Macs will kill me is pissing me off. What next will Homeland Security bust in the door confiscating my jeans?
Mom steps in the front door as my cell is ringing it is Traci.
“Can you come to the mall with us Saturday?”
I answer questioning who us is. Traci answers in her sweet voice. God, I love her voice.
“Pam and Becky will be with me of course. We are on a mission to shop and your fashion sense is awesome.”
“I do not know I will ask. Mom can I go with Traci, Pam and Becky to the mall Saturday?”
Mom stops in her tracks placing her bags on the table. She shook her head no. “We have to talk.”
I told Traci. I have to call her back but it does not look good. Then went into the kitchen behind mom. My whine must have torqued her off.
“Mom I want to go.”
With little sympathy mother sat down with a cup of coffee. She wanted to talk about her conversation with dad last night.
“Your friend David seems like a nice boy. Did you have fun?”
I nodded carefully telling her it was all right but no big deal. A burger is a burger. Mom pressed on informing of the decision she and dad made.
“We decided since you know three girls in the neighborhood and David seems like a nice boy you should attend Exeter. It will do you good. Speaking of the girls are you interested in one of them?”
“Mom, I like all three they are my friends.”
Mom did not press the issue but she dropped another bomb.
“Exeter has accepted you. I thought we could go over there on Saturday and purchase your uniforms. I know you wanted to go with your friends but this is important.”
I was not going to tell her, I already have a uniform, duh. That would not be cool. So I did the next best thing, I lied.
“Traci told me they are changing the uniforms and the new ones won’t be in until just before school starts. There is no point in buying the old style when I could not use them.”
Mom looked at me suspiciously accepting what I said. I doubt she bought it but I escaped for the moment.
“So can I go with the girls?”
Mom agreed and I called Traci to tell her. I also let her know about my lie just in case uniforms came up in front of mom. Traci agreed to provide cover for me and teasingly hit me with her joke.
“You already have a uniform. It looks good on you and we expect to see you in it.”
“Yeah right,” I answered.
I am beginning to worry about Traci’s attitude thinking she wants me to be a girl. I am going to have to be careful around her. I turn to mom with a question. I know it was a stupid question but I needed to create a distraction from my troubled thoughts.
“What are you doing?”
Mom’s expression transmitted to me her thoughts. ‘What do you think I am doing? Peeling potatoes stupid’ instead she answered sweetly.
“I am getting dinner ready.”
I shrugged walking over to the laundry basket and began sorting through it.
“Now it is my turn what are you doing?’
“I am sorting the whites from the colors. You wash them separately so I thought I would help. You do laundry on Saturday why are you doing this now?”
Mom raises a brow questioningly.
“There are some things I need in there before the weekend that is all.”
I continued sorting until I had two independent loads and began to fill the washer. Mom stared at me watching closely but not speaking. I loaded the white things mostly socks and under ware. I put in a cap full of liquid detergent. Mom was about to say something then stopped. She saw me pour in baking soda and close the lid.
“I know mom. Bleach bothers you and baking soda works as well without chemicals.”
She walked over feeling my forehead pronouncing me fever free.
“Are you all right?”
“I am fine mom I just want to help. Would it be ok for me to do the wash each week when I get home on Fridays? It will free up your Saturdays. You work hard enough.”
Her expression was like one of those credit card commercials, priceless. The dinner conversation centered on my attending Exeter. Dad thought it was a grand idea especially because he was not fond of Craig and Rocky. Mom told him about the uniforms which was ok with him. Dad is never in a rush to spend money. The buzzer went off and I removed the whites from the dryer. Then placed the colors in the dryer. Pushing the basket forward I left it close to the table. Dad stared while mom smiled. I cleared the table and began folding the clothes.
When I finished I noticed two speechless parents I dropped two baskets at the foot of the stairs. While holding my own, I reminded mom of the rule.
“You take care of your own.” I ran upstairs with my clothes before hearing any comeback. My clothes were quickly put away then I removed my shirt. Yes, I said shirt not top. While sitting on my bed, I applied the salve to my chest. I suddenly felt stimulated and grabbed my one inch monster which refused to grow. Try as I might the flaccid organ failed to respond. It is just as well it did not as suddenly mom tapped on the door.
“May I come in?”
Before I could cover my chest, she was staring at it.
“My God, Jean Marie what is wrong with your chest. It is puffy and is that a rash?”
I whimpered explaining how Dr. Cox saw it yesterday.
“She gave me some salve which really helps. She told me tell you to have a doctor look at it.”
Mom gave me the answer I expected.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I am embarrassed mom.”
“I will call Emily to make an appointment.”
Fear struck then Traci’s mom thinks I am a girl. I don’t want her to find out I lied to her. Not this way, I know I have to tell her face to face. I cannot let her find out this way.
“Not Traci’s mom it is too embarrassing.”
My mother smiles understanding and agrees to call Doctor Lewis. She then makes another strange comment.
“Jean Marie your hair looks nice. What did you do to it?”
I blushed wanting to avoid answering but knew this conversation is out of control.
“Traci trimmed my split ends as she called them. She showed me how to do it but you can’t see too well in the bathroom mirror. If I had a vanity like hers, it would be easy to keep my hair neat.”
From mother’s expression I could tell I should not have uttered the word vanity. I have no idea where it came from. Mom’s surprise morphed into a smile as she stroked my hair.
“What am I going to do with you? You are full of surprises boys do not care about split ends. They don’t volunteer to do laundry either. But I will get you the vanity. Do you really want the laundry detail on Fridays after school?”
“Yes mom I want to help.”
Mother stared again. Perhaps this is the beginning of that twitch she developed.
“You did a great job with the wash tonight. Really you did. I am surprised. What is this going to cost me?”
I smiled telling her nothing and felt good doing it. I have no idea why but I was happy about it.
When I got up in the morning it was just in time to hear mom and dad leaving for work. I brushed my hair feathering it forward. I really liked how the bangs highlighted my eyes. I tightened my belt and threw on a sloppy tea to hide the blousing. Downstairs I found a note from mom. She made an appointment for right after school with Dr. Lewis. She is going to pick me up at three. I took a deep breath resigning myself to a poke and prod session.
I had not seen Doctor Lewis since a school physical in seventh grade. I know they keep records so the doctor must know I am a boy. We wait almost an hour before we are ushered into the exam room. Marilyn Colby steps in telling us she is Dr. Lewis’ PA. The doctor is out on an emergency. Mom agrees for the PA to conduct the exam. She examines my chest telling mom the puffiness is normal at the beginning of puberty. She asked mom if I had started puberty yet. Mom confirmed she thought not. The Pa took a quick look at my private area and raised an odd expression. I thought she was going to comment on my monster. Embarrassed enough I did not want two women talking about my miniature organ.
She said she was concerned about something else startling mom. The PA asked if she noted any spotting. Mom shrugged appearing a bit miffed until the PA expanded.
“Jean Marie is a bit puffy around the opening. You say there is no spotting or trouble urinating.”
Mom narrows her brows turning to me. She uttered only one word sounding like “well.” I said sounding like well because I was having an internal freak out. I thought they were about to say my balls were starting to drop. No fourteen year old wants to talk about his balls to a woman and his mother. Relieved it is only puffiness they were worried about I answered.
“I have no problem peeing what do you mean by spotting?’
The PA said, “you know drops of blood.”
Wait one minute! I was a fourteen year old clueless boy. Well, I thought I was a boy. Clueless I was for certain. That was almost a year ago. If I live through this, it means someone is actually reading my tale of woe. I bet you readers picked up on three important code words. You know what they are, spotting, opening, drops of blood. As I think about this mom was not listening. Back to my jeremiad.
I shook my head in response to blood while mom appeared relieved. The PA asked mom if she wanted to prescribe something to kick start puberty. Mom looked at me. What do I know? Puberty meant I will likely have a growth spurt. Especially where my monster is concerned it will impress girls. Of course, I said yes.
The PA told mom the swelling should go down as it is normal at the onset of puberty. Mine is late starting but with medication I should expect to see changes in a few weeks. You see what I did not know is the swelling caused a crease under my monster. That slot looked like something you would expect to see in someone with the middle name of Marie. Had I known that I could have said something. Another telling comment I did not pick up on was when the PA said “Jean Marie you have pretty eyes.”
Friends, Enemies and Adjustments
Rights retained by author ©by Essarr Permission granted to Big Closet Exclusively
“Simone what is the idea of buying Jean-Marie a vanity? You do not buy vanities for boys.”
Mom showed her irritation with an equally edgy voice.
“Claude Jean-Marie has been more than helpful around here. He has been helping in the kitchen and is doing the laundry for me. If he wants a vanity because it helps him maintain his hair, you should applaud that. It did not bother you to insist on sticking him with a name like Marie. Don’t go all macho on me just because you live in Texas.”
Wow mom really gave it to him. He just backed off knowing better than arguing with a French woman named Simone. Not only is she, French, when you add very pretty and a lawyer you know you are going to lose.
There is less than a week remaining in school and I have completed my finals. After tomorrow, we have a three day week-end. Then another day of school on Tuesday and I never have to go back to the Willie again. Finally, free of the place for good. I am looking forward to Exeter but dreading the uniform. My uniform remains hidden in the closet and I get the strangest urge to wear it. Like I ever will wear Traci’s uniform. Speaking of Traci, she wants all of us to meet at her house Saturday. Her mother will give us a ride to the mall. Then pick us up so we do not have to walk back. Getting pampered is nice and I do need to buy some new jeans. My hips are still too wide and my waist too narrow.
When I hit the bottom of the stairs I see dad hang up the phone.
“That was nice of Emily honey. She said Jean-Marie can ride to school with Traci. It will save us having to stretch our schedules. I will give her gas money to help out.”
Mom answered her agreement saying something about how nice that was finishing up with another troubling comment.
“We should have them over for a cookout.”
Dad of course agreed. They set the date for Monday. In addition to the Cox family they included Pam and Becky’s families as well. Three pretty girls and their parents. How do I keep one parent or another from blowing my cover? It seems this will be the topic of our shopping trip Saturday. I have confidence those scheming friends of mine will have creative answers.
When mom got home at five Friday afternoon the laundry was finished. I went so far as bringing the baskets upstairs. Score some brownie points for me. Mom checked everything and was pleased with the result. I did not tell her the puffiness in my chest began to subside. I did mention the itching is down. I do not want her fussing over me. Not because I am some tough guy, it is not like that. I enjoy being fussed over sometime. The truth is the puffiness is down but they are no smaller. I think firm is the correct word. The attribute firm when describing breasts is not the ideal for a guy.
Mom looked at me rather odd as I presented in the kitchen wearing a baggy tee shirt.
“You used to hang around the house shirtless on hot days. For some reason you are wearing a bulky shirt. Do you care to share?”
I simply answered with my usual “mom.” But did not get away with it. I had to expand admitting embarrassment about my puffy chest. According to mom the doctor said the puffiness would decline in a week or so. I agreed getting away with saying it has been only two days.
“No mom my puberty has not shown any sign of appearance. I have only taken two pills.”
She smiled and let me off the hook. Then I opened my big mouth.
“What are you doing mom?”
“Fixing dinner we are having chops and scalloped potatoes.”
I smiled because I liked that meal. It is real food instead of grazing.
“Can I help?”
Mom felt my forehead asking if I was running a fever. I was not so she handed me the peeler and a bowl of potatoes. It is interesting to watch how she is able to turn raw materials into a tasty meal. I helped mix the cream sauce asking a series of stupid questions and came away learning how to make scalloped potatoes. Mom spent the meal staring at me with the most curious gaze.
When I sat at my vanity I received a shock. The humidity of the kitchen caused my tee shirt to absorb moisture. It collected around my breasts enhancing them. Ok I get it cotton kills at least it almost killed me. All cotton tees will be banished. One more note for my journal to help avoid detection. I am sure mom noticed but she did not say anything yet.
Traci told me we will be trying on a lot of clothes saying you wear appropriate briefs. Being a little brazen I slipped on a pair of white panties I found in the bag Traci included with that skirt. No I did not wear the skirt. I am not completely nuts. No one will see the panties or so I thought.
We arrived at a mall fifty miles out of our small town. Mrs. Cox said she had a surprise for us girls. She cleared it with my mother as well as Becky’s and Pam’s. Where are we going I have no idea. We entered a moderately priced store where I made a bee line for the boys jeans department. As I fished through various styles Doctor Cox giggled. She took my hand saying the obvious.
“Jean Marie those pants will never fit you. Either the waist will be too big or the hips too tight.”
She dragged me of to the dreaded misses department. She took a pair of size three skinny jeans off the shelf.
“Try these you will like them.”
I looked at her sheepishly with a doubtful expression when Pam grabbed my arm.
“Come on we have to try these things on.”
She had a pile of skirts and jeans so did the other two. Before I knew what hit me, I am inside the changing room with three pretty teens. I struggled with the jeans trying to avoid flashing my panties. I stepped out side just as Becky whispered, “nice briefs.” The jeans fit perfectly so I bought four pair. The girls were in shopping heaven while Dr. Cox seemed to be having more fun than them.
I was more than ready to leave not understanding where they get their stamina. During an idle spaced moment I heard that devil Becky.
“Dr. Cox what do you think?”
“Perfect,” she answered before turning to me. “Becky wants you to try it.”
I shook my head protesting but the doctor would have none of it. There is no easy out when a beautiful woman and three lovely teens gain up on you. Again I find myself in the changing room. Becky hands me a lavender sun dress that landed just at the knee. I protested again with Pam closing the argument.
“No one is going to see you. Take a chance and be daring. That will look great on you. I bet you did not know all three of us are jealous of your legs.”
I resisted but curiosity won out. I stepped outside for Dr. Cox to see. It was exhilarating to feel the fabric against my skin and the breeze flowing on my legs. My reflection in a mirror stunned me. I saw a pretty teen heart breaker looking back while my male self demanded I run.
“It looks nice but it is not me. I am a jeans and tee shirt gal. Besides this is for Becky.”
Becky smiled trying to add to the pressure. She upped the anti.
“Tell you what I will buy it for myself only if you wear it until we get home.”
“Are you nuts!” I almost shouted in protest. Doctor Cox thought it hilarious. They all gained up on me and I caved to my eternal shame.
It is a good thing I watched enough girls to know how to enter a car. I was riding in the front seat with the three rascals in the back. They almost lost it watching me sit then swing my legs into the car. I even smoothed my skirt as I sat. Traci tapped me on the shoulder as she whispered.
“You are a natural.”
I tried to poke her but she was too quick leaning back in her seat. I nearly freaked out the rest of the day afraid someone would see me and blow my cover. The girls were loving it and I expected a lifetime of teasing. The other problem is I loved it. I loved the feel. I loved the look and the girls knew. Soon we pulled into the arena to learn our surprise. Yesterday the Olympic ice skating trials ended and the city opened the building for the general public. Doctor Cox turned to me.
“Can you ice skate?”
I gave her the most amazed look I could muster as if to say are you serious.
“Dr. Cox, I am from Canada. I was wearing skates on the delivery table.”
That generated quite a reaction from everyone. I rented a pair of figure skates, ladies size four of course. When I hit the ice I felt free really free for the first time in a long time. I was like a dervish doing double axels and other figure skating twists and turns. I did not notice but people were standing around watching me. As I finally did an ending twist spraying ice coming to a stop I heard applause. Embarrassed I hurried off the ice blushing. Doctor Cox hugged me while the girls simply stared.
“Jeanette Marie you were amazing.”
I starred at Doctor Cox with my mouth wide open. Jeanette, I processed that for a moment then blushed again able only to mouth a half whisper.
“Thank you Mrs. Cox. I do not know what came over me. I must have missed skating more than I realized.”
Everyone was quiet on the ride home. Traci had to remind her mother to bring us all to her house so I could change to give Becky her dress. Not that it is a big deal after all since they live at thirty Maple Street and I live at twenty-eight it is not like it is a long walk. The good news is our driveways are each on the left side of our houses. I could get inside without mom and dad seeing me.
The girls busted my chain as they ogled at my look. I do not think I will ever live this down. They all agreed I will most definitely be wearing the girl uniform to school. My task is how do I manage to avoid it.
“Jean you must keep dressing like a girl for school.”
Traci almost demanded with her stern insistent tone.
“Yes, you must” echoed the other two.
“Guys, I cannot do that. Yes, I like your clothes I admit it. I like how they look and feel. But I am a guy. I cannot do that. We all know I will get caught and the shit will hit the fan.”
Then Pam hit me with the worst of it.
“You are dying to go out with Dave. Admit it you dream about that luscious boy kissing you.”
I blushed again and all said.
“I knew it!”
When I got home I had to report everything about our day. Of course mom had to see my jeans and tees. She stared at the jeans for a long time.
“Jean Marie is there something you want to tell me?”
It was with that tone every kid learns to hate. The one where the very sound of your mother’s voice drips with, “gotcha.”
“Mom these were the only ones that fit. Who cares jeans are jeans.”
She did not say anything for the longest time. Mom’s eyes simply scanned me until she spoke in an unsettled voice.
“Your jeans came from the misses department. The label clearly says petit three. Would you like to explain this?”
I staggered back until the back of my legs struck the edge of my bed. I sat abruptly gazing back at her. After a minute, another eternal moment struck, before I crafted an answer.
“Mom you wear men’s fleece because women’s do not have pockets. What is the big deal if I buy Lady Wranglers?”
‘Got her there I thought.’
“It is no big deal, however, I never heard of a boy wanting Lady Wranglers.”
“Mom it is necessary because of my shape. If I buy my usual size, they are too tight in the hips. If I buy them large enough for the hips, the waist is too baggy. These fit so what can I say? Like you tell me, I will grow out of it.”
Mother paused thinking about what I said. She smiled you know the doubtful smile parents get when you suddenly cause doubt.
I dodged a bullet but I had the sinking feeling it is only temporary. The only thing I will tell you about the big cookout is I somehow managed to dodge another bullet. No one mentioned to my parents what a lovely daughter they had. My parents did not absently call me their son. For some reason no one mentioned my skating prowess I stupidly demonstrated two days before. I am skating on thin ice as I get ready for bed on Monday night before my last day at the Willie.
Our town is one big square, well not so big. I mean square in the geographic sense but the term could be applied to many other aspects. The Willie or Willis Eliot Middle School is dead center. They did that for a reason because it means no one in the city is more than a mile from the school. They avoid busses and the expense making everybody walk. That is why I find myself walking with Boner and Rocky. Excuse me, now they are adults I must refer to them as Craig and Evan. I know I told you that but as they remind me all the time it does not hurt to mention it again.
Craig started again now that he is dating Monica after breaking up with the last girl. I have been losing track of his progress toward his goal of dating every girl before the end of the school year.
“Hey Jean Marie now that you are so thick with the three princesses do you think you can hook me up with one of them?”
I blinked, “thick you think I am thick with Pam, Becky and Traci?”
Evan bumps my shoulder almost knocking me over. Did I tell you, they have grown six inches and fifty pounds heavier?
“Yeah dude you even are beginning to look like them. I mean look how you are walking. What is with the hips and those bumps?”
He gently poked my chest and the pain almost sent me screaming. I held it together even hiding my grimace.
“What are you talking about these are pecs I have been working out.”
They both laughed at that saying in unison, “sure.”
“Guys did you line up any new games worth playing?’
Evan give me an odd look then glanced toward Craig. Craig had a panicked expression. Neither said a word for a minute. Then Evan answered in what I thought was a shaken voice.
“Look dude that game scared the shit of us. I only admit that because you are part of it. I will not bring this up to anyone else. Say anything and I will deny it.”
I blinked glancing to Craig who wore the same expression.
“What are you talking about? It was freaky but we ditched it.”
“Did we,” Craig offered and shut up quickly.
I was getting worried, ‘are my friends setting me up for a joke?’ Before I could say anything, Evan offered another comment.
“Look at us we are both bigger and stronger. Ripped you might say. We were the strong guys, Raul and Troy remember? My parents ran me from one doctor to another trying to explain the growth spurt. Craig’s parents did the same thing, didn’t they, Craig?”
Now I am getting nervous as both of these guys seem serious, no joke. Craig then lowers the boom.
“You played the beautiful Saris remember? I, Don’t know how to break it to you but you look an awful lot like Saris. Even Ray noticed which means you need to be careful.”
I blinked again this time my face was beet red.
“You guys are nuts.”
We reached the school at this point and stepped inside.
“Are we,” Craig asked. “Read the wiki information on that game. I know wiki may be unreliable but this one hits home. Stay away from Ray.”
That proved to be good advice. It was too bad Ray did not take it. Again opening my locker I felt the arm go by my face as his hand flattened against the door frame. Ray’s other hand rested on my hip. In shock I turned almost hitting his face with mine. He raised his hand from my hips. Without saying a word his fingers caressed my breast. I slapped his face causing him to pull back.
“Marie those hooters are quite nice. How about meeting me after school we can massage each other?”
He leaned closer kissing me on the lips.
“I got suspended because you said I kissed you. You owed me that kiss. Girl I take back everything I ever said about you.”
He turned and walked down the hall while a tear formed in my eye. Kari a girl I hardly knew grabbed my hand dragging me into the ladies room.
“I saw and heard what the bastard did are you ok honey?”
I blinked at the word honey and blushed again.
Her smile is infectious as she gazed at me.
“Jean Marie you are a very pretty girl. You never fooled me with your pretending to be a guy act. Do you want me to go with you to the principal? I will tell him what I saw. Jean Marie you may not like it. What he just did was wrong. Pretty girls must get use to it as you are finding out”
“No don’t bother school ends at noon there is not much he can do at this point.”
“Did you hear Jean Marie, Ray flunked. Since he turns sixteen this summer, he will not be back. He is quitting to work in his father’s body shop.”
The bell rings and I thank Kari as I walk toward class. She yells down the hall, “call me.”
I managed to graduate the Willie with honors while Craig and Evan had b and b+ grades.
Not bad for a group of losers who turned into hunks. Well two-thirds of us anyway qualify as hunks. I do not know what I am. Did I just call my two buds hunks?
That afternoon I found myself at the mercy of Traci. About one in the afternoon she called. I had no sooner dressed in my running short and micro fiber tee with the intent of house cleaning. I had no idea where the cleaning idea came from but mom will like it.
The micro fiber is employed to allow quick drying. I rid myself of water retaining cotton that enhances my problem. It is a problem as they are not bigger but firm to use a non threatening term. My nipples are spreading as well. So far so good nobody has seen them.
As I have been running a lot lately my legs are tanned and toned. I will tell you about what I found on the net about Symbols of Arcadia. It was not the same Arcadia visited by my crush, April Ryan. That is another story this Arcadia is evil. I have to run to Traci’s so the evil game will have to wait.
Traci and I are sitting in her room waiting for the other two girlfriends to show. Traci is staring at me with her patented evil grin.
“Girlfriend those legs of yours are dangerous. You do not even have to shave them do you?”
I present a shocked look knowing full well the trouble I am in. I do not think I can grow hair. The other guys are shaving once a week but it is something. Me not a single chest, chin or leg hair.
“You may as well get used to it if you are going to Exeter. Sit at the vanity I will do your hair.”
I sit like a fool while she feathers my hair and fits two clip on earrings. They are simple hanging baubles flowery in shape with a gold background. I gasp at how they enhance my eyes.
“Are you kidding me, I cannot wear these.”
“Silly you can they go great with this.”
She tosses a tan pencil skirt at me. “Put this on,” she commands. Then hits me with another truth.
“You may as well get used to it before you wear that uniform to Exeter.”
I blink again.
“Marie,” she left the Jean off making me nervous. Well more nervous than I already am.
“Those legs are not boy legs and that chest is not boy chest. Like it or not you are a girl.
So get real and put the skirt on while I dig out my yellow camisole for you.”
When I am almost finished the door bell rings. Traci excuses herself to answer it. Like a true friend she never mentioned I was wearing her panties she gave me weeks ago. Another unexplained habit I picked up. I like the feel and now that I do the laundry well I am covered. As I dress I can barely make out voices. It sounds like the other two arrived. I take my time adjusting the skirt that rides an inch above my knee. The silken feeling camisole top has no sleeves. I suppose you already knew it would not. The narrow straps lie gently over my shoulders and my firm mounds? Oh yeah, they are obvious. I start down the stairs as the door bell rings. ‘It must be Pam’, I think. ‘No Pam is opening the door.’ As I reach the bottom step there stands Evan. Pam just opened the door.
“Hi Pam, I am looking for Jean-Marie, is he here?”
“No I do not think so.”
From the bottom step I stare directly into his eyes as his mouth opens wide.
“Jean Marie? Holy effen shit.”
I don’t wait to hear the rest of it. My shoulder brushes his as I almost knock him over as I blast out the door. I do not stop until my front door slams behind me and I am up the stairs in my room.
In less than a second my life is shattered. Wrecked as I am face down in my pillow crying my eyes out I did not hear him come up the stairs.
“I thought at school today you looked pretty. I did not imagine you were beautiful but you are.”
I don’t answer over the sobs which are growing in volume. His strong hands gently touch my shoulder turning me over. I look up at Evan through water soaked eyes as he sits on the edge of the bed. His hand brushes stray hairs from my brow as he hands me a tissue.
“I am not going to tell anyone Jean-Marie. You are beautiful, dry your eyes and sit up. We need to talk.”
Stunned I slowly raise myself into a sitting position whimpering.
“You won’t tell?”
“Jean-Marie, we have been friends forever. I am not mad you pretended to be a boy and never told me.”
He laughed and I giggled.
“I had you fooled huh? Has Craig figured it out?”
“Has he hit on you?”
“Uh no he hasn’t.”
“Then he has not figured it out.”
We both laughed again. Without saying a word Evan fired up my computer loading the screen that reported on Symbols of Arcadia. I could not believe what I was reading. Some game club came to the conclusion the game came from an alien race as a joke. It had the ability to transition smaller teen boys into females and impregnate them. That is the object of the game. The aliens for some reason wanted to teach kids a lesson. The club has not figured out their motives yet. There is a group out there that calls this club crazy but the game is banned.
The information further explained that as no company has taken credit for producing the game the government started an investigation. The problem is the feds have not located a single copy of the game. Homeland Security decided it is a terrorists attack. Evan exhales deeply then offers his wisdom.
“It is a good thing you crashed the computer. I do not want to believe this crap but I am certain I do not want to have fathered your kid. Don’t take it the wrong way but friends don’t do that to friends.”
Evan looks at me smiling.
“What I mean is if you ever want to” he blushes, do that.”
I stare at him thinking, ’he is a hunk.’
“I do not think so Evan.”
“Jean Marie,” he begins with his eyes at my chest level. “The good news is your mom is not top heavy so you will not get too big. If it works that way I mean. Have your parents figured it out yet? Are you a girl down there?”
Too many questions all at once. Too much to take in all at once. I try to dodge the answers, but Evan has been too good a friend for too long.
“Mom and dad have no clue but mom is acting like she knows something is up. They took me to Doctor Lewis to start puberty and he gave me some pills. My monster is growing tiny and I have a crease developing. I have to sit down to pee and it is getting harder.”
My voice cracks as I reach near panic.
“What the fuck am I going to do?”
I am surprised by Evan’s reaction. He reaches out hugging me close and strokes my hair. With a gentle caress he whispers.
“Jean Marie it could be worse. At least you are a beautiful girl. Go to Exeter with Pam, Traci and Becky as one of them. They will protect you and remember I have your back.”
I gazed at him absently stroking his cheek when he spoke again.
“I better go because I really, really want to kiss you and your folks will be home soon. Can I call you?”
“Can you call me? What kind of question is that? The last four years you must have called me ten times a week.”
I giggled again and he answered.
“This time it is a man calling a woman.”
Of course, I gave him my permission. He no sooner left when the girls descended on me. Yes, I told all and they were giddy with the aspect I would be wearing Traci’s school uniform. The big question is how do we keep mom and dad in the dark?
Chapter Five Crisis of Discovery
Rights retained by author ©by Essarr Permission granted to Big Closet Exclusively
Now that school is out we could be viewed as latch key kids. That is not exactly true because our parents are big on supervision. During the school year I had two hours between the final school bell and the time mom arrived home from work. Sure I could get in trouble in two hours. Plenty of kids had access to things like pot and worse. I did not get into trouble because our next door neighbor is Doctor Cox. As you know she is Traci’s mother. She is home everyday shortly after three and paid attention to what I was up to. When you are a doctor running your own shop you can control your hours.
You did not think this nerd got connected to three total babes like Traci, Pam and Becky because they were attracted to me, did you? We were thrown together because Emily Cox is buds with my mom. I had to report in every day and she knew what I was up to. The fact the girls attend Exeter Prep School should tell you their families are well off. Mr. Cox, owns his own auto and home owners insurance agency. To us, he is simply Mr. Cox. Ron is his first name but we kids never address him as such.
Pam’s mother works in real-estate. That alone should tell you the woman can reach out at any minute. Barbara Michaels is a nice lady but I hardly ever saw her. Mr. Michaels owns the local Honda Dealership. In fact dad bought his beamer there. I think his name is Fred. Becky’s parents are more aloof. Mike Williams is an accountant working for a Fortune Five-hundred company. Brenda Williams is one of the dinosaurs, a real stay at home mom. In fact she is a published author writing many romance novels. At least it is not self help. I shudder whenever I read one of those be all you can be books. The people who write them will drive you nuts. You know kind with the attitude we fly over country people are stupid. Like we need them to tell us eating Big Macs will make us fat.
Like I said supervision is everywhere. I cannot get away from it. I am amazed at how I manage to get away with little I had. On second thought, I get away with almost nothing. This summer the three girls all turn fifteen just as I do. Craig and Evan already reached that plateau. As I said the girls suddenly became close friends at the same time Craig and Evan drifted away. It is hard losing two close friends that did everything together. As I sit here in front of the vanity looking at my budding breasts I wonder if this is what chased them off. Very likely it is the same reason why the girls accept me. I like to kid myself thinking they do not worry about fighting over their hunk neighbor any longer. That thought is more satisfying than the notion my breasts had anything to do with it.
I finally did it after finishing my cleaning chores today. I tried on Traci’s school uniform. The look is excellent as the skirt and blazer fits well but the oxford material of the blouse scratches my chest. The blouse presents a terrifying outline because it enhances my bumps. The skirt is adorable because it is a soft combed gray wool. The pleats will be a pain because ironing is required to keep the creases neat. I did not want to press my luck and mess the uniform up so I quickly hung it back up. I can hardly wait to wear it. I washed and dried Traci’s clothes that I wore. The same ones I foolishly ran out the door wearing yesterday I planned on returning them today but an unusual problems arose. Consider the fact I am wearing the skirt Traci made for school that she gave me. All my micro fiber tees I bought clash with it. So I cannot go over to her house until I change. A white cotton tee and my running shorts is the best I can do.
I hurried back from Traci’s to check the roast then went upstairs where I hurriedly put her skirt back on. Well, it is my skirt because she did give it to me. I turn back down the stairs to finish dinner prep. It is four-thirty and my parents will be home soon. I hit the bottom step, glanced over my shoulder to see Evan on the porch. Cautiously, I open the door.
“How are you doing Jean-Marie? Yesterday you were out of it and I wanted to make sure you were ok.”
I noticed right off his eyes were focused on my pronounced chest. I am sure he noticed the rad skirt I was wearing but he remained focused in one spot.
“I am better.”
It was the best I could muster. I quickly added to my short response.
“I have to go up and change.”
I said that for two reasons. The first one should be obvious. My once best friend that hung out with me is suddenly looking at my legs. If that is not bad enough, my parents are due home soon. I am not ready for them to see the new me.
He started to follow me up the stairs an old habit I know.
“Do you mind? Wait down here please.”
He blushed managing “oh yeah.” With a snicker he added, “you look good why change?”
I pointed to the clock explaining my parents are still in the dark. It took forever to put the skirt back and fish out a micro fiber tee. I bought the things big for obvious reasons. I threw on the jeans and shirt then bounced down the stairs. Evan was waiting all smiles.
“You still look good and that shirt hides them well.”
I noted he sounded a bit disappointed but said nothing. Even when I caught him staring at my hips and rear.
“Jean-Marie your mom hasn’t figured it out yet?”
“This is hard enough do you have to keep reminding me?”
I steered him out into the kitchen where I checked the roast and the now boiling potatoes.
“You cook as well?”
I poked him in the shoulder while emitting a smile. It was then his expression turned serious.
“Jean-Marie this is serious. You better talk to your mom and figure this out because it is killing me.”
“Killing you!” I burst out. “How is it killing you?”
“Girl in case you have not figured it out I like you. I would really like to take you out. You know on a date.”
This hit me like a ton of bricks. My friend, my buddy, the guy, I hung around with, suddenly liked me in that way.
“Evan that is sweet and I would like nothing better. Really I would but not right now. It is complicated and I am freaking out. I mean how would you handle it if you woke up in the morning and found you grew tits?”
He did not want to laugh. He tried not to laugh. Those are the reasons I think that made him react the way he did. He hugged me. He buried his face in my shoulder whispering.
“I am sorry I did not mean to upset you.”
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to tell him how much I cared. I traced my fingers along his cheek then smiled saying.
“I know.”
Mom and dad raved about the meal pleasantly surprised at my culinary prowess. Dad poked at his meal as if something is on his mind. He glanced at mother several times but still remained silent. Mom also ate pensively emitting her patented mother look toward dad as if at any minute she was going to burst. I am not the most together teenager but even I picked up on this. My thoughts focused primarily on flight. I doubted seriously that is an option.
After clearing the table and rinsing the dishes, I reached for the dishwasher. Mom’s hand on my shoulder spun me around stopping me.
“Jean-Marie, I have a check list which I will read to you. Today you have emptied the trash, ironed your father’s shirts. That is after you did the laundry. You cooked an incredible meal. You even mopped the kitchen floor, dusted and waxed the living room tables. Now you are about to wash the dishes. Is there something you want to tell us?”
Frozen in place I shook my head denying there was anything amiss. Dad stated firmly as if he were reading evidence. “I have not seen or heard from your friends, Craig or Evan in some time. You are with those girls everyday. I am proud of your honors grades and how you help mom around the house. I don’t have a single complaint. What puzzles me is why have you taken a sudden interest in feminine issues? You even have a vanity and look at your hair.”
Mom’s gaze changed from a mused smile to a frown signaling she is not happy with dad and how he phrased his concerns.
“What your father is asking dear is why the sudden interest in matters that concern girls?”
I did the only thing a hormonal teen girl could do. I started crying and ran up to my room. I fully expected one or two of them to follow me but nothing happened. I sat at the top of the stairs listening. Mom spoke softly to dad.
“Claude, I think you could have stated it better. I asked you to be gentle.”
“Simone, I was not hard on him. I asked questions trying to find out what is going on. I was so embarrassed yesterday I wanted to scream. When Emily suggested Jean-Marie needed a training bra I almost lost it.”
‘Shit, shit, shit” I thought, so that’s it.’ I crept closer to the stairs.
“Claude, she is only concerned that is all. Emily is an excellent doctor and she noticed the same thing I did. Jean-Marie’s breasts are enlarged. I told her what Doctor Allen’s PA said. Jean-Marie has not started puberty yet and prescribed hormones to get it started. She told me the puffiness is natural. She also told me she gave him some salve and Jean-Marie reported the rash has gone.”
“I do not understand his thinking.” The boy has a puffy chest and a rash. He should have told us.”
“Would you tell your father if you had puffy breasts or even your mother? I will make another appointment with Dr. Lewis for a review of the treatments. If things get worse, I will call Emily. You know she will come right over.”
I could hear mom approach the stairs and I rushed back to my room.
“I hear you in the hall Jean-Marie. I am coming up to talk to you.”
“Oh shit, now what?”
I said that aloud and I bet she heard me. I went into my room anyway burying my face into the pillow. Mom sat on the end of the bed rubbing my back.
“Honey turn over I need to see.”
I shook my head refusing burrowing deeper into the pillow crying noticeably. Mom rolled me over staring down at me.
“Lift your shirt please.”
The good part is I am laying on my back which causes my breasts to be at their minimum. Mom looks down at me her eyes as wide as I have ever seen them. There is no way a woman does not know what teenage breasts look like. Teenage girl breasts I mean. I took a deep breath eyes still streaming droplets of water.
“Oh honey why didn’t you tell me? It does not matter, in your shoes I would have done the same. When I was a girl I hid my growth from my parents as well.”
“Mom they are not supposed to do this.”
Mom still smiling this time with a gentle compassion. She tries to reassure me.
“Emily said since you are taking hormones to start puberty this is natural. Things will return to normal before long. We have a problem so dry your eyes and fix your hair we are going out.”
Here we are standing in the misses department again. It was after father went nuts when mom told him her intentions. The sales girl came over asking how she could help us. Mom’s answer nearly freaked me out.
“I need my daughter measured for a training bra.”
The woman smiled having heard this request many times while a girl stood by blushing. The blushing girl is me not an onlooker. When I talk fast I confuse people sometimes. I poked mom and mouthed ‘daughter?’
“Step over here to the dressing room.”
We followed with mom whispering to me, “would you rather I said son?”
Blushing even more as I removed my now favorite micro fiber shirt I faced the woman. She quickly wound the tape around me then exited the room. She came back with a size thirty-two a.
“This should be a good fit dear. Buckle it front then twist it around.”
I did as she said amazed at how comfortable it felt. I wanted to scream at the embarrassment but simply smiled saying it is good. I asked mom as I turned around, “do the straps show? Can anybody see it?”
Mom assured they could not and bought three or four. Even my micro fiber had a hard time hiding the bumps which increased my worry. Mom tried to tell me they did not show. I wanted to believe her while I maintained my suspicions. When we got home dad did not appear to notice which generated a whisper from mom.
“I told you so.”
That was my harrowing experience the first week of June. Not that it got any better anytime soon. I insisted I did not want a birthday party. I did not wish to get any presents from people who felt obligated. I especially did not want anything suggesting girl. What you want and what you need are often two different things.
Three or four days after my birthday, Doctor Cox and Traci showed up. Fortunately, my parents were not home. Here was the late birthday present I did not want. Doctor Cox insisted I open it up. It is the most amazing chocolate wool wrap around skirt with a matching cream colored camisole silk top. My eyes bugged out as I held them against me. Panic would set in later. I admired my growing wardrobe that consisted of two skirts and camisole blouse. I do not count several pair of girl jeans. There is that uniform in the closet.
That evening the phone rang I could hear my mother acting all girly growing giddier by the minute. I heard her final comment.
“Jean-Marie will find it an interesting event to say the least.”
I shuddered thinking what now. It was not long before I got the word. When I entered the living room dad was laughing suggesting to mom this will not go over too well. Mom shrugged with that you never know expression. I sat on the sofa catching myself before crossing my legs in girl mode.
“Jean-Marie, Doctor Cox invited you to join her and Traci for an evening on the town. They are going to Dallas to see the symphony perform Swan Lake.”
I looked at mom with my whatever expression while dad laughed.
“I told you. He would not be impressed.”
“What do you think honey? It will be the three of you. After the performance, Emily is bringing you for dinner at a fancy restaurant. You will stay the night in a hotel. You will have to dress up. I will lay out your suit Saturday morning before we leave.”
Mom’s words suddenly struck me. Did she say ‘Before, we leave’ they are going somewhere?’ This may not be the end of the world just yet.
“Where are you going?”
“Father thought since you have a chance to expand your cultural horizons we could go into the country for a quiet weekend. We are going to enjoy pampering at a bed and breakfast”
“So you won’t be here to see me off?”
I asked more as a panicked fear of how Doctor Cox would react to me in a suit. I am afraid they will insist upon seeing their son go out the door in a suit. The plan appeared to be Mom and Dad are leaving at nine in the morning while Doctor Cox will pick me up at eleven. They want to see me in my suit before they go. I dodged another bullet but I wonder how long I can keep this up before my heart attack.
The phone rang, it was Traci.
“Are you going?”
Her excited voice instantly became contagious and I joined in sounding as much as girl as her.
“Of course, I would not miss it for the world. What are you going to wear?”
I should have not said that because mom definitely demonstrated a tick in her eye. She stared at me listening intently. I toned down my enthusiasm.
“Jean-Marie, I hope you are planning to wear the outfit mom gave you.”
She was enjoying this too much. I could hardly wait for what is coming next.
“I have the most amazing cocktail dress you can borrow for the performance.”
“Are you shitting me!”
Mom yelled her disapproval of my choice of words. I pressed on.
“You, don’t want me to wear my suit?”
Traci caught on quickly figuring my mom could hear.
“Let me talk to your mom.”
I handed the phone off and mom listened to Traci agreeing with her. When she got off the phone she turned to me.
“Traci is right as it is a long drive. Her mother suggested you wear comfortable clothes and change at the hotel. Pack your suit carefully and wear your jeans or whatever.”
I nodded my agreement before saying goodnight. After I went to my room I did not hear my parent’s conversation. It is just as well because I would have freaked.
“Simone, aren’t you a bit concerned about this?
The woman considered her husband’s question.
“Concerned, why should I be concerned?”
Claude raised his brows as he answered.
“Our son is going to a ballet while his breasts are appearing a bit more feminine every day. His mannerisms are girlish and he has adapted to housekeeping more than any boy I know.”
“Claude it concerns me, however, a bit of culture will not hurt him. I know what you mean about his mannerisms. The breasts concern me but the Doctor assures me that issue will work itself out.”
I will not go into the details because ballet is something you need to see not read about. Traci and I had a great time and her mother was in another world. She thoroughly enjoyed showing culture to a pair of teen girls. To protect my cover I had to wrinkle and smudge my suit a bit. Every mother could tell at once if I had not worn it. I must admit the waiter at dinner fussed over us calling me young lady. He was a college student I guessed and more than once I caught him checking me out.
I had no sooner got back and Pam was on the phone.
“I hear you looked smashing in your LBD.”
“My what?”
“Little black dress silly it is a basic requirement for every girl.”
I blushed when she said that. There is a lot I need to learn.
“Yes, it was I admit it looked terrific. The problem is the guys, they were literally drooling.”
“Jean-Marie you are going to have to get use to it. They will be all over you. You do like guys don’t you?”
After she considered what I said she added or should I say threw out the red meat?
“Jean-Marie you said it was a problem. What I mean is you did not seem to think guys drooling was a problem last night. That waiter nearly had a heart attack checking you out.”
I blinked at that never thinking about it before. That is not true he did not check me out. I do not fantasize over guys. I did think Dave was a hunk and Evan turned me on. The waiter, sure he is cute. Now that I think about it I saw Traci naked and could not generate a stiffy. But then again the monster has almost disappeared. It seems to be retracting into that strange crease. I sometimes wake up with my fingers in there, Weird, I know what about me is not?”
Since I took so long answering having lost in my thoughts, Pam repeated her question.
“You do like guys don’t you?”
“Pam, I think I do. You girls sure as hell don’t turn me on.”
“I am glad to hear that. See you tomorrow we have a lot to talk about.”
I wore my skirt that Traci made with the yellow camisole. My wardrobe is limited. Evan talked me into going to the movies on a Saturday night. Don’t ask how I planned on getting back into the house without being seen. It was a chick flick as they call them. About midway through the movie I felt his hand on my knee. Then his arm around my neck and his lips suddenly found mine. I did not see the remainder of the movie.
As we walked home who do we run into but Craig and Monica. Craig had this disgusted look on his face when he said to Evan.
“What do you think you are doing?”
Evan kept his cool as he calmly answered Craig.
“As I recall we were the three musketeers and Jean here was your best friend.”
He emphasized the American pronunciation of Gene making it sound as a shortened version of Jeanette. It caught Craig flat footed. I thought for a minute this would get ugly. I knew what happened to me scarred the hell out of Craig. It could have been him and he knew it. I believe guilt about the screwed up game is why he suddenly avoids me. Evan agrees with me on this speculation. It was Monica who broke the ice.
“Jeanette is such a lovely name. I have seen you around town are you dating Evan now? Craig honey she is pretty.”
Craig laughed at the thought of his rough and tumble buddy being pretty. He took a long look at me.
“Everything is cool Evan is lucky to be with you. See you later, and call me.”
Of course, I did not call Craig and he did not call me. Our long time friendship was at an end and we both knew it. As for Evan, I am not sure. He says all the right words and shows me respect but there is something out of sorts. What am I developing feminine intuition as well?
Evan walked me home and we kissed good night. He said he would call me but I am not going to hold my breath. As soon as he was out of sight I ran into the garage changing into my boy clothes.
That is basically how the summer went. When mom and dad were at work I dressed like a girl. My cooking skills got better and better. My mother was pleasantly surprised with that aspect. She was also thrilled with being relieved of laundry detail. She even shamed my father into taking over the law mowing detail. She went so far as to list everything I did claiming I did enough around here. Dad grumbled but mom finished it.
“We, girls have to stick together.”
I tightened up hearing that comment. ‘What does she know?’ I had not dated Evan a second time though we talked several times. Becky is convinced Evan is totally gone on me. Totally gone was the way she put it. I did not know how to regard it. I have concluded my preference is toward boys. I deny any notion I am gay. As I look at myself in the mirror I see a girl. To be truthful I am very angry about this in between situation.
Mom made an appointment for me to see Dr. Lewis for my follow up during a time she was working. She told me, I could go by myself. She will meet me there and talk to the doctor. I was sorely tempted to wear a skirt but chickened out.
I did not see the PA this time. Dr. Lewis saw me himself. It seems to me the man is at least eighty years old. But to be fair he is not quite that far gone. He had me undress and did not seem surprised I was wearing a training bra. I wondered about that but did not say anything. He thumbed through my papers reciting the name of the medication prescribed by the PA. I do not remember the woman’s name. They are all the same to me.
He measured my chest muttering while writing something down.
“You must be pleased, when you last came in your bust measured thirty-two a. You are now a b-cup young lady. Have you started menstruating yet my dear?”
”
‘He thinks I am a girl’
“Of course not I am a boy.”
Doctor Lewis raises his white bushy eyebrows and patted me on the knee.
“You have quite a sense of humor. I take your answer to mean you have not.”
Once again I balked not knowing how to respond. I shook my head again indicating I had not. He had me sit up on the gurney or reclining table chair. I do not know what you call the thing. The next thing I know I am laying down and he is listening to my stomach with his stethoscope. Next he examines my monster which leads me conclude he will figure out I am a boy after all. To my surprise he tells me my clitoris inflammation has almost disappeared. It is still a bit enlarged it should be normal sized in a few more days.
He felt around the outer edges of my deepening crease. Making as offhanded comment there was nothing unusual. He asked me if I ever had an internal exam. Puzzled, not knowing what he was talking about I told him no. He tells me to get dressed concluding with something I did not understand.
“Internal exams can be quite uncomfortable. I, don’t see the need to put you through it unless, have you been having any discharges down there?”
“You mean like oozing stuff no I have not, never.”
The Doctor chuckled.
“That is what I mean.”
A minute later mom walked in.
The nurse drew some blood tests the doctor wanted. I hate it when they stick me to draw blood. Mom asked about my breasts clearly not liking the answer. He told her I was progressing normally and not to worry.
On the way home mom stopped at the drug store and sent me inside to pick up my refill. The pharmacists was nice but freaked me out with her comments.
“Honey have you started your monthlies yet?”
I blink this mess has me blinking a lot. My answer is truthful enough with a simple “no.”
She smiled when she said.
“I thought not this estrogen regime should get it started soon. I must warn you if it does not before you need another refill get a second opinion.”
I thanked her promising to tell my mom what she said. Of course, I am not going to. They are giving me estrogen no wonder I am effed up. My mind is racing the pills are turning me into a girl. That is not true everybody who knows anything will tell you that is bull. I guess I will keep taking them.
Taking a break from my story I look into my vanity while my parents keep yelling downstairs. I see a pretty girl looking back at me. I thought about senile Doctor Lewis and the pharmacist and laugh. I did not understand at the time my crease looked like a vagina. What the hell I never saw one. It just looked like a crease formed by fatty tissue because my balls had not dropped. I thought it was because there was one testicle on each side. Like they were squeezed forming a ridge with a crease behind. Just so you know why I did not say anything. I bet you are laughing at the stupid kid right now. It is not funny. The voices from downstairs are growing quiet I expect they will come for me at any minute. I better get back to my story. It would not be fair to leave you guys in the lurch.
Two weeks later mom is sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and talking to Doctor Cox. When I came in from my run with Traci, I heard the last of mom’s comment.
“Doctor Allen reports the blood tests came back normal. I do not know what to do.”
“Well Simone breast development appears normal from what I can see.”
Mom did not like that answer and her gaze is doubtful. My mind nearly exploded waiting for mom’s expected, but not for a boy. Traci was quick, real quick when she said interrupting.
“Mom don’t you think another opinion is needed or an MRI or something?”
That quieted my mother preventing the expected reaction. Dr. Cox answered in an assured voice.
“Simone I know you are concerned and rightly so. I love Jean-Marie like my own daughter. I know you are busy so I will drive Jean-Marie to my office in the morning and do a full exam. Will that make you feel better?”
My thoughts focused on Dr. Cox’s wording, “like my own daughter.” I considered still watching for mom’s reaction. My God, I thought ‘mom took that to mean Dr. Cox loves me like she loves her own daughter’ I am not sure if that is what she meant but it got by mom.
Mom exhaled slowly obviously relieved.
“Would you Emily? I cannot thank you enough. I should go with you. They can find a replacement.”
“Simone go to work. Jean-Marie looks perfectly healthy and if anything is seriously wrong you will know at once.”
That seemed to settle it at least when Dr. Cox finds out the deception it won’t be in front of my mother. My thoughts were broken by Traci who dragged me up to my room.
“Strip.”
My eyes flashed wide as my voice pleaded no.
“Are you kidding? Strip in front of you?
Traci stares at me with a stern countenance.
“Girlfriend I have seen the penis before. I never told you but Bill Wakely, remember him?
My answer as I rolled my eyes muttering comes back in the affirmative.
“He is nothing special. On my only date with him, he pulled it out expecting me to do something to it. I laughed saying it is too small even to consider. I thought he was going to lose it. Needless to say there was no second date. Now take off your jeans and panties.”
I did not like her emphasis on the word panty. Who am I fooling she knows I prefer panties. Here I am laying on my back legs spread with a pretty girl looking at me. A lot of guys dream about this event. Why do I feel so put out?
Traci’s eyes narrow as she sees my monster. Then her fingers touch it like it is something deadly.
“Ewe your clit is inflamed.”
“That’s not my clit.”
“Really, do you expect me to believe that is a penis? It is what a quarter inch long, has folds and is pinkish.”
I flush red to the tenth degree as she continues to stare, feel and grin.
“I thought boys had balls?”
Now we are both laughing.
“I got balls they have not dropped yet. It is called late puberty you know the reason for the pills.”
That is when it got really weird. She squeezed my groin and I nearly jumped.
“I hate to tell you this girl but there are no balls there. Who told you that you were a boy a government doctor?”
Before I can react, she raised her skirt and dropped her panties. My eyes as any boy’s would flashed wide open.
“You tell me does that look any different than you?”
I protested but my crease looked like hers. Then Traci relieved my worries .
“When mom examines you, she cannot blame you for claiming to be a girl. You are a girl, fool.
They have been lying to you. What is your mother going to do? I am not going to guess.”
My world is closing around me causing me to fret asking, “what in hell am I?”
Rights retained by author ©by Essarr Permission granted to Big Closet Exclusively
The steady buzz of my alarm is annoying me as is mother’s voice calling from downstairs.
“Jean-Marie it is time to get up. Doctor Cox will be here in an hour.”
I crawl out of the bed dreading what is coming for me. ’What will the doctor think when she discovers the freak?’ I spend considerable time in the shower. My breasts are stimulated by pulsing water. ’Good grief they are getting bigger.’ My panic steadily rises as I again hear mom.
“Honey father and I are leaving are you up yet? Answer me please.”
I call down announcing I am in the shower and promise faithfully that I will be ready. Ready for my execution that is but I did not say that part. While sitting at my vanity preening my hair what I see unsettles me. The girl wearing a bra and panties stares back at me from the mirror. ’She is really pretty and cannot be mistaken for a boy. Did I really plan a complicated charade to be friends with the girls? How could I consciously delay puberty and stifle growth of my male parts? Why would I do that? Does anyone believe a computer game could cause this?’
By now I am completely frustrated. Pam, Becky and Traci thought I was a boy pretending to be a girl. Check that. They thought I was a boy who looked like a girl. Traci is now convinced I am a girl after seeing me naked. I can’t blame her for that because I agree I look like I have girl parts. Craig an Evan always knew I was a boy. We did boy things together for four years. In the last couple of weeks Evan kissed me and said I was pretty. It was the other thing he told me on the phone yesterday that has me freaked.
The reason Craig is pissed off if because he thinks I was a girl all along. I was playing head games making fools of them. He cannot wrap his mind around the truth. The computer game did this. I look into the mirror for a final review. My cream colored camisole top rests at my waist even with my skirt. The chocolate wrap around wool skirt reaches slightly above my knees. My thought is since I must undress for the Doctor this outfit is the right choice. The pretty girl in the mirror speaks to me.
“Do you really think after looking at you, Craig could possibly think you were ever a boy?”
I step back still gazing into the mirror. I cannot maintain my anger at my ex best friend. If I were honest, I’d admit in his shoes I’d come to the same conclusion. I go downstairs to have a bowl of cereal before Emily Cox arrives.
“You like really nice today Jean-Marie. I see you are wearing your birthday skirt and top.”
I smiled thanking Doctor Cox for her compliment as I swung my legs into her front seat. My expression is a serious one as I stare forward resisting conversation.
“Are you just a little bit nervous honey? Don’t be I need to check you out to see what the problem is with your puberty delay.”
I exhaled slowly thinking. ’It is not that. I will fall to pieces when you discover I am a fraud. I am going to lose all my friends.’
I did not say any of this and if I were the Doctor I’d be thinking this kid is a wreck.
When the horror of the exam ended, thank God, she did not do an internal. Doctor Cox ushered me into her office. I gritted my teeth expecting the worse. The questions were gentle which surprised me.
“Honey have you noticed any spotting? I ask because indications are your period can come at any minute.”
Those words were gentle? She is telling a boy his period is eminent. How do I answer that question?
“I have not noticed any spotting at all.”
My eyes must have expressed horror because Doctor Cox squeezed my hand.
“Dear it is not the end of the word you are growing up. Spotting can be a nuisance. It often stains your clothes so when you learn your cycle time wear panties that are grayed. You know clothing you don’t really care about.”
“So I am ok? There is nothing wrong with me?”
To me both were stupid questions that I should have been able to answer. Of course, I am not ok. Of course, there is something wrong with me. Boys do not spot and do not have a cycle. Is this woman telling me, I am one of them?
“Doctor Cox my breast are getting too big.”
Then I made a mistake. I said the wrong thing.
“My penis is shrinking it is almost gone.”
You should have seen the expression on Emily Cox’s face when I said that. She actually laughed out loud. I closed my eyes waiting for the explosion.
“Jean-Marie you are not the first girl who referred to an inflamed clitoris as a penis. Is that why you have been acting like you were scared? You thought you were some kind of freak?”
I started crying and the more I tried to stop the faster the tears flowed. This beautiful woman hugged me close for several minutes. When the tears slowed to a sniffle she spoke again.
“I bet you thought that we would think you were a boy pretending to be a girl. Am I right?”
I nodded still sniveling and then played it.
“I did not want you hating me. Traci is my best friend and I thought I’d lose her.”
Doctor Cox stroked my hair explaining how these things can happen.
“I discovered through the tests that were done you have an anomaly in one of your x chromosomes. There is a small twist in it. Sometimes that causes minor physical complications. With medication short term the swelling will go down. Have you notice some leakage from it?”
Another unspoken thought formed I kept hidden. ‘How did she know? I used to pee out of it that is why I know it is a penis.’ Instead of letting that escape, I answered sheepishly with a simple “yes.”
“It is one of the rare anomalies. You see there is a tube that extends from your bladder to that tiny hole below your vagina. The hole is called an urethra. You know where your urine come out. In your case there is a second tube that extends to what you thought was a penis.”
I stared at Doctor Cox eyes wide open with an amazed expression. She hugged me again.
“You thought when urine came out of there it was because it was supposed to.”
She is nodding her head up and down slowly.
“When you found wet spots in your under ware from your urethra you thought you wet your pants. We can close the extra tube in my office it will not hurt. Your breasts did not grow a lot in the last week. I can tell the way your bra fits.”
I am still speechless because this answers a lot of questions. I am not a freak. I am almost normal but a bit confused. That raises another question. Who is going to tell my parents? Not me!
“Jean-Marie, I have a personal question for you. I did not want to ask your parents because I may offend them.
This certainly piqued my curiosity. Now I am all ears.
“What question is that?”
“Honey you don’t know it but I got my medical degree at McGill in Montreal. I know that Jean is a male name. I understand how male-female and female-male hyphenated nomenclature works. Why did your parents give you a male name?”
I blinked yet another time. I did what any kid would do in the situation. I lied.
“Actually it is Jeanette-Marie. You know how everybody shortens things.”
She smiled seemingly accepting my lie. I thought she did anyway. I must have missed her dubious smile.
“I will take you home and then call your mother to assure her everything is fine. If you need me to be with you please call.”
As you can see the situation keeps sinking deeper. I am no closer to resolving this than before I found out I am a girl. There is a certain amount of relief in knowing I am not some kind of freak. I know from the internet that boys who dress like girls are considered lower than pond scum. We did not have any of those at the Willie. My experience is seriously limited regarding boys who want to be girls. My urge to look pretty is normal. But I still cannot do it. When I thought I was a boy knowing I was not brave caused problems. Because I was not strong, bullies targeted me. I hated myself for being weak. I am a girl. I am not supposed to duke it out with the jocks. I sink down on my bed understanding one thing. I am still weak I cannot reveal this girl thing to my parents.
Can you imagine raising your kid thinking he is a boy to find out he is a girl? You think you might feel just a little bit stupid? You think you might feel just a bit guilty over screwing your kid up? I can justify not telling them because I am concerned about their feelings. The truth of it is, I am weak and scared shitless.
The moment of truth is sneaking up on me. I only have one more week before starting Exeter. The uniform thing terrifies me. The idea of wearing that boy outfit will not work on any level. I am a real girl and I refuse to pretend otherwise. I am dying to wear the pleated skirt, apply makeup, get a perm and have my nails done. Do I really have to sit down with my parents and shatter their world? A phone call provided misguided relief.
“This is an emergency session of the Maple Street Girls Club. Get your butt down to the library.”
That was the voice of Pam Michaels. With nothing else to do I threw on my shorts and tee. Then hustled off to the library. The three girls all hugged me piling on with big smiles. Becky spoke first.
“Traci told us. I cannot believe you were a girl all the time.”
Pam added her perspective.
“Would you rather she be a cross dresser or fag? I knew you were a girl all along.”
I teased Pam because I could not resist.
“You had a crush on me and it does not bother you to find out I am a girl?”
Pam poked me just as Traci smiled while making her comment.
“Mom told me your name is really Jeanette not Jean. I did not tell her you lied about that. She did the whole French hyphenated name thing. She was pissed your parents could stick you with a male name. She bought the lie about Jeanette because it is easy.”
“She did not say anything to mom did she?”
I asked nearly panicked.
“No she did not because she believed you. But that brings me to another question.”
I could hardly wait for that other question. From their expressions Pam and Becky were dying to hear it.
“Your parents really think you are a boy don’t they?”
I struggled not wanting to answer her but there is no escape. I just nodded.
Three voices at the same time uttered one word. “Shit.”
Becky raised a wide smile.
“It is time to plan.”
That is the point where my deception dug a deeper hole. Not that it was not deep enough. According to Becky this will be simple. I just wear my girl uniform to school and change out of it before my parents see it. She thought we could simply buy a boy uniform for my closet. I can wear it to show my parents. Everybody knows they will want to see me in the uniform.
I looked at her doubtfully while Pam encouraged pursuit of this plan.
“You will be riding to school with Traci and will be home before your parents. Why won’t it work?”
The girls were good with that thinking it a perfect plan. That is until Traci spoke up. “What happens when Dave shows up with a bouquet at the Lafleur house? He will expect to see Jeanette in her prom dress. Have you considered that?”
Another chorus of shit followed.
Mrs. Cox seemed satisfied with that but still appeared suspicious. Even worse, I know Mrs. Cox is going to let my parents have it one of these days.
“You will have them when I pick you up at three?”
Once again I exhaled slowly nodding hoping we can drop the subject. While I am talking about this, I may as well finish. I had to scarf up another fifty dollars for a boy’s uniform as well. I know, don’t tell me it is a weak plan but the best we could come up with. Pam Traci and Becky shared in the cost each chipping in. After all, it is their hair brained idea.
The freedom and the annoyance of the girls uniform presented itself throughout the day. I loved the feel of the skirt while dreading the careful movements I had to execute to keep from flashing. Traci teased me dreadfully pointing out every stare I earned from the boys. I have to admit some of the guys were hunks. I hate thinking that way because I was brought up differently.
Pam gushed when seeing Ben Bryant, the school jock. She introduced me and the boy’s eyes darted from Pam’s chest to mine and then down to our legs. I thought I was being measured for a trophy case. After he wandered down the hall, Pam spoke.
“You were.”
“I was what?”
“You were being measured for his trophy wall. The word is he has the school record for initiating virgins.”
“Pam what are you saying?”
I could not believe what she just said.
“It is true though they think it is a big secret. There are four or five of them that have a contest. Whoever scores with the larger number of virgins wins a thousand bucks.”
I nearly panicked.
“Who is playing this game?”
She recited the name of five jocks warning me to stay away from them.
I did not need convincing and resolved myself to steer clear. I wondered how is being a pretty girl is different than being the nerd victim of bullies? I thought being a popular pretty girl was an advantage. I am quickly learning I am nothing more than quarry for hungry predators.
Doctor Cox approved of my uniforms. I had them in one of those plastic garment bags. The boy uniform was mashed between the girls unseen by looking at the bag. You should have seen us crammed into a stall in the girls room. It was a chore trying to slide that uniform between two others.
I promised to return Traci’s uniform after I washed it this afternoon.
“Jeanette you don‘t have to. I was not angry after all I gave it to you. I was just curious why you had not gotten you own.”
Her explanation was reasonable but it still bothered me. I am wary over her new habit of calling me Jeanette. I can hardly wait for her to drop that in front of Simone and Claude.
Traci helped me do the laundry. I needed to wash the uniform I wore as quick as possible. I am glad for her help because at least five boys from school called wanting to introduce themselves. I dispatched each of them as quickly and gently as possible. I managed to stash my three girl uniforms plus the one I washed and hang up the boy one just in time before the folks got home.
Traci the coward, excused herself the moment they arrived. She whispered.
“I would rather be home and hear the explosion from there.”
I no sooner set the dinner table when mom and dad arrived and Traci fled. I took great pains to prepare stuffed peppers and chef salad with hot French bread. Mom and dad beamed upon smelling the food. I half expected hearing some sort of pleasant surprise. Instead mom said something else.
“Honey you are not wearing your school uniform. We wanted to see how it looked. You were able to get them weren’t you?”
I nearly freaked out. The last thing I wanted to do was model that stupid outfit.
“They are already cleaned and hung up. I did not want to wear it while cooking with tomato sauce. You know how that splatters.”
Mom smiled obviously pleased at yet another lie. Well, I did wash, dry and press a uniform. It was not exactly a lie. More like a president’s lie by leaving out an important piece. Those guys do it all the time.
“I hate to be a pain” mom began. “Could you show us what it looks like after dinner?”
I nodded agreeing not wanting to but going along with them. Then dad has to open his mouth. He had to say something that caused me to spray a mouthful on the table.
“Traci Cox is such a pretty girl. Are you interested in her? Do you plan on asking her out?”
“Uh no dad we are just friends and dating would ruin a perfect friendship.”
Mom tossed me an odd glance while I wanted to say something I could not. I wanted to say I had the hots for Dave McCauley. We ate in silence other than the dreaded questions. You know the ones, did you make any new friends? Do you like the school? I gave the most noncommittal answers I could while praying this will end. I stood to clear the table and mom spoke again.
“You are a great cook Jean-Marie. I will clean up so you can show us your uniform. You do too much work around here as it is.”
There is no way around this. It is a good thing I was prepared for it. The uniform was already laid out on my bed. I struggle into the pants. Struggle because I hate wearing pants. I put on the oxford shirt and tied the stupid tie. ‘Why do they insist you put a noose around your neck? I know so they can pull you along by it.’ I started downstairs stopping abruptly when my image from the mirror caught my eye.
‘O.M.G. look at my chest. My breasts were enhanced by the form fitting oxford shirt. I never considered that. I grabbed the blazer slipping into it. It helped when I buttoned it. The tie made things worse. The stupid thing lay right at my cleavage. I turned slowly gazing into the mirror. Satisfied with the jacket I was less obvious. I had an idea. So I yelled downstairs.
“Do I have to wear this stupid tie?”
Dad yelled back thankfully. Being a man he understands the hatred for neckties.
“That’s ok son you do not need to wear the tie. Having to wear it all day is enough.”
By removing the tie and loosening the top button it helped hide my chest. The material of the shirt did not form to my body as close. Cautiously, I descended the stairs in the hope this will be short and painless.
As they gaze at me an interesting dance begins. Dad’s eyes drift toward my chest and I turn slightly in mom’s direction. When she starts to appraise my shirt I again shift toward dad. This seems to be working. Then mom says.
“Let me see your shirt.”
Still looking at dad, I offer.
“It’s a shirt a common everyday stiff white oxford.”
I am resisting turning toward her. I know she is more observant than dad. ‘Thank you father,’ I suddenly think.
“Simone, The boy is right. It is a common shirt and it looks fine.”
“If you, insist. The jacket looks good and the pants,” she stops.
Suddenly, her fingers slip under the waist band in the small of my back. ‘Did she feel the lace of my panties? Shit, shit, shit.’
“Not too snug. It seems a perfect fit. You have great fashion sense for a boy Jean-Marie.”
I exhale slowly thinking I may escape yet. Then dad offers his wise ass comment.
“And he can cook with the best of them. Great fashion sense, terrific cook. Someday you will make a fine wife.”
“That is enough of that Claude Lafleur.”
Mom exploded giving me an out. I break toward the stairs.
“I am getting out of this monkey suit.”
Quickly, I close the door to my room breathing a sigh of relief. It takes almost no time to ditch the clothes and hang them in the closet. They are in full view while my real uniforms lurk in the dark. ‘I cannot take much more of this.’ I sit at my vanity wearing bra and panties thinking I had better put a robe on. In case mom decides to visit. Either that or get dressed. I decide on my skinny jeans and tee. As I said I cannot take much more of this when the more visited me.
I am lying on my bed pulling up my skinny jeans. That is the posture required to get these things on. Yeah I know it is not the brightest thing to wear jeans that enhance my hips and rear. I know, I fret about this all the time and it causes odd glances from my mother. Give a girl a break. I need to feel like me once in awhile. It was then I noticed my greatest fear. I find spots in my panties. I nearly scream I am not ready for this. How could I not be ready for this? Perhaps I did not believe it was going to happen. Perhaps my act convinced me, I was a boy pretending to be a girl. Whatever, the reason reality slapped me. I grabbed my cell.
“Traci, help my visitor is here.”
“Really are you sure?”
“How could I not be sure? Nobody sneaked in and stabbed me.”
“I’ll be right over.”
I ran downstairs to meet Traci at the door. I know the rule, no girls in my room. Mom and dad were watching TV.
“Can we use the computer in the den?”
“Go ahead you know better than to go on those sites we don’t like.”
We rushed into the den.
“Let me see.”
I peel back my jeans lowering them to my knees. The spots were getting larger. Traci reaches into her purse handing me a box of Tampons. Her face turns bright red.
“Do you know how to use these?”
I flush again shaking my head obviously no. Then I say something stupid.
“I am a virgin it will bust my cherry.”
After Traci stops laughing, she removes the paper wrap handing the foreign invader to me.
“You are clueless aren’t you? If I did not know better, I would think you are a guy.”
I stared at her my fear evident by my dilated eyes.
“Jeanette your hymen is an expandable membrane. It is also porous it allows menstruation to occur. You know pass the flow through it. It also yields allowing the use of a tampon. The tampon will not damage it.”
I looked at her dumbfounded.
“They did not give boys these lessons in health class did they?”
“Of course not I had no need to learn this crap.”
“I guess you were wrong. Jeanette, I will tell you how to do it. I am not about to touch you there. Doing that for myself is yucky enough.”
We both laughed our asses off on that one.
“Do not flush these things down the toilet. Major problem happens that way.”
She then explained the whole toxic shock issue scaring the hell out of me. She insisted I change often.
“Stick them in a plastic bag and dump them in the girls bathroom at school.”
We talked for several minutes until Traci hugged me.
“Welcome to girlhood you are one of us now.”
“Don’t go telling Pam and Becky.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Traci went home with the silliest expression on her face. Mom caught it and had to say something.
“What was so funny?”
I answered with the usual, nothing and fled upstairs.
I sit here with a corncob stuffed between my legs staring at my bottom drawer. Under my jeans two skirts, multiple pairs of panties and two tops are hidden. At some level I know they will be discovered and the shit will hit the fan. Now I have to hide Tampons. Is this what you get with the joy of finding yourself?
Chapter Seven Conclusion
Rights retained by author ©by Essarr Permission granted to Big Closet Exclusively
I survived the monthly visitor crisis by stashing the spent, whatever you want to call them in zip lock bags. The smell how can you hide the stench? I know hiding the bag under my bed does not work. The fumes wafted through to my nostrils all night. I pictured a scene where I poked a coat hanger through the top of the bag and hung the offender outside my window. ‘What would Rocky think if he looked out his window?’ His bedroom is opposite mine. We spent many a night flashing Morris Code signals back and forth. I know he could see a coat hanger swaying in the breeze. Obviously the freezer is out and I do not have a private bathroom. The closet will not work I can imagine the hang over smell trapped in that confined space.
When I left for school I opened my window wide with the fan blowing out. I already told you mom is not an idiot. There is a nagging suspicion the woman would pick up on that odor right away. I have a few weeks to figure it out. I should tell these guys that want to be girls. It ain’t no picnic there are many pitfalls. Why is it, I have to discover them all at once?
Day three in school presented my guidance counselor a woman who is as round as she is tall. Mrs. Murray introduced me to the field house. It seems she saw me skating and thought it was imperative I be turned loose on their ice rink. I should not have been surprised an exclusive school had an ice rink. But as dad said when he discovered Dallas had an NHL team.
“It ought to be against the law to have a hockey team in a place that cannot grow its own ice.”
Anyway I love ice skating and I can finally do it here, in a place where I would never suspect such a facility exist. Perhaps, I will take advantage when I find the time.
I am sitting at a study hall desk my skirt resting on my thighs. I hate how my skirt rides up each time I sit or bend. Believe me it is a shock when you first experience it. I am day dreaming or to be exact worrying. According to my calculations, my three accomplices, their parents, my two ex best friends, my tormentor, and my Doctor know I am a girl. All of this has occurred in the space of a few weeks. Well perhaps it was a month but no more than that. Yet my parents have not figured it out. I know I have to tell them but I, don’t know how. Rationalization is a wonderful thing it rates right up there with denial.
My plan is simple, don’t tell them. I know at some point some stupid comment will blow the whole deception. ‘What am I afraid of?’ The bell finally sounds and I am free to eat lunch having not accomplished a thing.
I walk into the lunch room with the girls and we head to our favorite table. I stop suddenly seeing Dave sitting there. ‘Is he, one of the virgin contestants?’ It is funny how in my new quarry persona everything is questioned.
Dave stands facing me directly.
“You do not mind, do you?”
My buddies all giggle and glance at me. As if they need my permission, to set me up. Like an idiot I answer.
“Not at all.”
So who does he sit next to? Even though I made a conscious effort to squeeze in between Becky and Pam. Silly Becky moves over giving him room. Now his knee is touching mine. Not that I am complaining. I am waiting for his fingers to accidentally regard me in some fashion. Thankfully, he is too cool to do something stupid.
“How do you like it here Jeanette?”
Jeanette, ‘what need feeds everyone to want to embrace an adaptation to my name?’ I hear it more often than not lately. You know I like it but I can’t wait for the phone to ring. Dad answers it to hear, “is Jeanette home?” Ok so I am paranoid.
“I really do like it here.”
I answer like an air headed coed. At least I left out the ‘fer sure.’ This is the last day of my period. It must be why I am reacting the way I have been all day. Becky does not help.
“Excuse my sister here she is out of sorts today.”
Dave laughs as his eyes rise giving me that I understand look. ‘Thanks Bec you are a friend.’ At least he did not ask me out on a date. My excuse that my parents won’t allow dating is holding up.
Traci gave me crap on the way home telling me I should do more to encourage Dave. I did not want to hear it I have enough complications. We pulled into the driveway and I jumped out the car thanking Doctor Cox.
“Thank you for the ride. I’ll see you in the morning. Call me Traci.”
I got two steps when Traci’s mom’s voice stopped me.
“Jeanette why don’t you come inside?”
I turned with a quizzical expression.
“Your mom and dad will be here in a half hour. We are going to have a cookout. I talked them into taking some time off from work. You need a respite from all the work you do.”
Traci grabbed my arm dragging me toward my house yelling to her mother.
“In a minute mom we have something to do.”
Like a flash we were out of there secured in my room.
“Shit that was close.”
Traci exclaimed while I ditched the uniform and made myself less girly. When we got back Traci had barely enough time to change before my parents arrival. I find myself sitting next to Traci in the middle of the picnic table bench. Our parents are lined up opposite us while Mr. Cox is grilling steaks. He turns to look up the driveway.
“I see you made it.”
A tall man and his wife, I assume walk toward us. There is somebody else getting out of the car. Mr. Cox turns to my parents.
“Have you met Mark and Claire McCauley?”
My expression paled when I heard the other voice.
“Surprise Jean-Marie, I bet you did not expect to see me.”
I bit my lip and closed my eyes. ‘This cannot be true.’ Mom answers.
“No Ron but I have met their son. Hello David nice to see you again. You should stop by, Jean-Marie could use the company.”
My father looked at my mother with that you did not mention this expression.
“I forgot to tell you dear. David brought Jean-Marie home from the track meet for me awhile back. We have not seen you since have we David?”
I sunk deeper into my seat trying to make myself small. Dave did not help. Again our knees touched as he crammed between me and his mother.
“Jean-Marie, are you still out of sorts?”
His lame attempt at humor was shot down by good old Traci.
“Knock it off Dave you picked on Jean-Marie enough.”
She went on to make up this story of some kid giving me a hard time. My reaction at school was one of anger. I was still angry when Dave joined us for lunch. Dave did not know what it was about and we did not tell him. I squeezed her hand smiling whispering, “thank you.”
It was another close call that I survived but I could see dad was having issues. That surfaced later when we were at home. I was hiding in my room when I heard them talking. Their voices had the familiar parental concern we kids pick up on. You know the tone that causes us to disappear? That one. I should have known because all too soon I heard it.
“Jean-Marie come downstairs please.”
It was my father not sounding at all happy.
“What dad?”
He sets down his newspaper slowly taking a deep breath. I, don’t know what I did but I am getting ready to bail.
“What is the story with this David McCauley character?”
“Uh what do you mean dad?”
‘You mean his chronic hard on for me bothers you?’ I did not let that thought escape. The problem is I experienced this odd damp feeling whenever I see him. I will have to ask Traci about that.
“Jean-Marie,” mother interrupts, “your father and I are concerned.”
Then dad jumps in.
“Is the boy gay?”
“I, don’t think so. He is on the football team”
‘Does kissing me twice and copping a feel of my hip when he thinks he can get away with it count?’ I think before adding another defensive comment.
“Why would you think that?’
Dad answers in a wary voice.
“We saw how he looks at you. He has that boy in love blank stare. We saw how defensive you appear around him. You are not interested in girls. We are concerned.”
Faced with that I blurt out the only thing I could think of.
“That is nuts. I like girls I am taking Traci to the dance next Friday night.”
Both of them relaxed upon hearing that while father felt the need to caution.
“Be careful around that David kid. I don’t trust him and your mother is wary.”
Well if he were to be my first boy friend, we are off to a rocky start. Then mother hits me with the next bomb.
“When you get up in the morning bring your clothes down for me. You deserve a day off. I will do the laundry.”
I smile while attempting to hide a frown.
“Thanks mom I can hang out with Traci instead.”
Now I am in my room trying to figure out how to get my real uniform cleaned. It is a good thing I have four of them. I slept in my boy uniform. How else could I stink it up?
Proud of myself for pulling another fast one I slipped over to Traci’s house. I walked right passed Dad while he grumbled about mowing the lawn. I told Traci about last night’s inquisition and how Dave is off limits. She laughed at first before the weight of it sunk in.
“We are fucked.”
“Thank you for your observation. Brace yourself because you are going to the dance with your boyfriend Friday night.”
“I, don’t have a boyfriend.”
My finger turns inward.
“You do now.”
I finally got a date with Traci a beautiful girl every guy will kill for. Big deal the last thing
I want is a girlfriend. At least I dodged another bullet. It is getting to a point where the walls are closing in. The laundry episode was a close call. Too close for comfort and I wondered how long I could keep this up.
Going to the dance did not bother Traci in the least. As she explained two girls showing up to a dance stag is no big deal. Guys cannot get away dancing with each other. It is another benefit of wearing skirts.
The good news is I managed to get through the next week without any close calls. Dr. Cox continued to act like she knew something I did not. Traci said she too suspected her mother was wise to something going on. Traci was also certain her mother had not figured it out just yet.
“You know Jeanette you better talk to my mom. She will help. She really likes you.”
“Traci I’d like to but my parents will freak.”
“They are going to find out sooner or later.”
We had too many conversations that went around the issue with me not ready to fess up. You dig a hole and keep on digging and you never get out of it.
I really wanted to join the school skating team but knew I could not. There is no way I could manage required practices getting home late in uniform. Traci and I talked about it but we could not figure out a way around a ride home. Her mom might pick me up. Be real at some point it would get old and my parents would get involved.
The other issue is the neighborhood. All of us guys live on Maple Street. Our houses are all lined up in a row. For almost four years Craig, Evan and I lived in each other’s houses. I have no idea what they said to their parents about my not coming around anymore. Thankfully, my parents were not buds of their’s. I sort of got the idea since I have not grown and those guys are into sports their parents assumed we went separate ways. I said I had not grown well I gained two inches. It is nothing compared to their reaching six foot. I see Craig and Evan’s parents around once in awhile we nod and keep walking.
As far as I know they believe I am a boy. That is how they always thought of me. As for Mr. and Mrs. Cox, I am a girl. Becky and Pam are a bit farther down the street and I assume her parents think I am a girl. It is a mess causing me to become neurotic. It is a good thing these people don’t talk to each other.
School is going well. I managed to keep my circle of friends rather tight. Becky is starting to attract more boys as is Pam. Traci and I are also beating them off with a stick. I don’t mind the attention. In fact I enjoy it. But our parents are clones all subscribing to the no date rule. I should say Pam, Traci and Becky’s parents set that rule. My parents don’t mind my dating they just don’t want me dating Dave. Come to think of it dad would be thrilled to see me bring home a girl. They are also getting troubled because I, don’t have any male friends. If they knew the truth they would freak out, over all the male friends I could have.
The girls bitch about their uniforms all the time. I like them because if it were like public school without uniforms. I could never keep up in the clothes department. It is bad enough I have to wash, dry and iron these things and hide them. Imagine hiding a stash of required popular girl clothes. Sooner than later I am going to crack.
Becky, Pam, Traci and I are sitting at our table. We had just finished the last in a series of first term final exams. All three of us did well we know. Becky is excited because her family is taking her to Hawaii for Christmas. Pam has an influx of grandparents from both sides descending at her household. School is out after the last class for three weeks.
“I, can’t believe we get three weeks off for Christmas. Craig and Evan only get two. I guess that is why our parents pay the big bucks.”
That is how I started my conversation off with that lame observation. The others look at me like I am totally out of touch.
“That is because of the parent conferences for the first three days of vacation.”
Pam says off handedly like I should know. Becky nods agreeing as does Traci.
“Didn’t your parents get their letter yet for their appointment? Mom is going in Monday dragging yours truly with her.”
Pam adds with a grimace. The other two chirp in with mine on Tuesday and I’m stuck on Monday as well.
My brows freeze in perpetual panic.
“They did not say anything to me. That is all I need.”
“It is not like you have to wear your uniform.”
Traci says then she adds more fuel to the fire.
“You can bluff your way through. You can do it.”
I consider for a moment making another fatalistic comment.
“All I have to do is announce the use of pronouns are not allowed at school meetings.”
They all laughed and why not wearing skirts for them is not a felony. Now I can sweat out the next three days trying to guess the date of my execution. It turns out it did not take that long.
Twenty minutes later, I am sitting in study hall when the teacher calls me.
“Jeanette you are wanted in the guidance office.”
I shake my head thinking ‘what does Mrs. Murray want now? I, don’t have time for skating. Perhaps they forgot to contact my parents and they are sending me home with a note. That’s it karma is smiling at me again.’
The secretary motions me to go right in. Mrs. Murray is talking to someone as she sits at her desk. My stomach suddenly knots up as I hear a familiar voice.
“Thank you for adjusting your schedule so you could see me today instead of next week Mrs. Murray.”
‘Shit, shit, shit it is my mother’s voice.’
“You should be proud of your daughter Mrs. Lafleur, she is a lovely, bright girl.”
This is where the ticks started I am sure of it. My mother turns to face me as I stand there in my sharply pressed skirt breasts enhancing starched oxford, and blue blazer. Her expression is beyond shock but there is no hint of panic. Did I tell you, she is a litigator used to surprises and hostile judges?
“Sit down dear,” my mother says. She pats the chair next to her. Mrs. Murray beams.
“You must be proud of Jeanette. She has scored all A’s for first term.”
Still no sign from mother as she answers.
“My husband and I could never be more proud. Jeanette is a fine young woman and an asset to our family.
That must have hurt mother forming the syllables to pronounce Jeanette.
Mrs. Murray turns toward me with a sickening smile.
“We have face to face meeting with each student’s parents at term end. We like to schedule at the beginning of the Christmas break and the last week of the second term. As it was convenient for your mother we thought, we could do this today. As you were in Study Hall, you can participate without missing class.”
Mrs. Murray was not quite finished as she broadened her smile.
“Your daughter has a beautiful name. Many take liberties as you have heard and call her Jeanette. You used it yourself so I assume you approve?”
Mother smiles sarcastically between ticks excusing them.
“I must have something in my eye. But you are correct Jean-Marie just loves the name Jeanette. Though, it is not her given name we have adopted it. She is such a lovely girl.”
I nodded a thank you thinking ‘I am so dead. Mom do you like how good I look in my uniform?’ I also took note mom’s use of she sounded more like a hiss.
Mrs. Murray continued.
“As a reward Jeanette you are excused from school the remainder of the day. Your mother has a treat for you.”
‘I am sure she does. Mom do you like the fit of my uniform? Do you like how the gray wool compliments my complexion?’ I imagined my mother grabbing my ear while dragging me across the parking lot screaming, “look at the fruit.” It did not happen. Mom is really holding it together but I sense cracks.
“You look pretty Jeanette.”
My mother’s simple statement wreaked of acid. Especially as she enunciated my name, Jeanette. I nodded as I swung my legs into the car. She caught that too and could not resist commenting.
“How long did it take you to perfect that move? You have it perfected.”
I stared forward through the windshield afraid to glance in her direction.
“I could handle it if you were doing pot. But this! Dressing like a fruit and going out with another gay guy. It is too much.”
The car shook as she applied an iron grip on the wheel. I kept my mouth shut.
“Emily Cox drives you to school everyday dressed like this. Traci and you must think we are fools. Do you know how embarrassed we are? Our son dresses up like a girl. Goes to school pretending to be a girl. My law partners will go crazy. I will never be able to face them again.”
She went on an on until we entered the driveway. I opened the car door set to run. But out of the blue my father blocked my escape. ‘Shit’
In the living room I noticed an empty can of Molson. Dad only drinks beer when Montreal is playing on TV. Here in Texas that does not happen often. This is bad he opened another as he started talking.
“We can safely say your friend David is not gay. He may be a dupe but he is not gay.”
He gives me the once over taking another sip of beer.
“You are a looker I cannot blame the guy.”
Dad takes another sip and begins laughing.
Mom looks horrified she is about to erupt. Fortunately the ticks startup and no words come out. I take off my blazer revealing my prominent chest.
“Before you go on, consider this.”
I point at my chest but before I can continue, mom starts in again about being embarrassed. Then I fire back.
“Embarrassed, because I go to school dressed like a girl. Mom take a look I am a girl. You two are the only ones who don’t know it.”
Dad’s laughter grows louder until mom stares at him coldly. That’s when he yells.
“You are grounded, forever.”
Mom starts in about home schooling when I interrupt her.
“This is December. I am on my third period. Please tell me how either of you can look at me and say I am a boy.’
There was no acknowledgement from mom when I said three periods. What, she did not hear that? Or is it a case she did not want to?
The tirade went on for some time without me saying a word. I was too busy crying while my father kept calling me a girl. Mom is now sitting her ticks growing larger. Her mouth is still moving but dad is the only one with a voice. He opens another Molson, his third I found out later.
‘How is this my fault? They are the adults who flunked biology. I know wise ass remarks are not going to help. But truthfully wise ass remarks are all that come to mind. I do the only thing a hormonal teen girl can do. I run as fast as I can to my room. Slam the door and lock it.
“You are grounded until age eighteen.”
Those were the last words I hear from dad while mother threatened home schooling again.
So dear reader my tale of woe has reached the present time. I told you, how I came to this place. Like you, I have no idea what is going to happen next. Like you, I have no idea how I got into this mess. Was it those aliens and their computer games that changed me?
Craig and Evan are sure of it. There is no way I will bring that up. I do not need Homeland Security paying me a visit.
Then again Dr. Cox believes I was born a girl and never had a monster in the first place. Was I born both and the little guy shrunk away because of the meds? I, don’t know and I, don’t care. I like who I am and how I look.
The calls from downstairs go unanswered. I am not going to be berated anymore I need help. With dread, I punch out the digits on my cell.
“Doctor Cox.”
“Yes honey.”
“Can you come over I really need some help?”
There is a short pause before she answers.
“Let me guess your parents discovered Jeanette. Traci told me about the surprise meeting at school. They really thought you were a boy?”
With a catch in my voice I nod yes before thinking ‘speak fool.’
“Yes, it worse than that. They think I am a gay boy.”
I then lost it and started crying. Emily Cox steadied my nerves with her gentle voice.
“I suspected that for some time but did not say anything to them because I thought it was my imagination. I did not think anyone could see the beautiful girl I see and think she could be a boy. Honey things have been coming together and I was certain at the cookout. Everything will work out. Fix your hair and pretty yourself up. Stay in your room. I will be right over.”
So here I sit freaking out at my vanity. Thanks to Traci, I learned how to apply makeup. I did not tell you that because it was an unimportant thing. I did my lashes and thought better about lipstick. I do not want to freak them out too much. ‘What to wear? Not the school uniform that is not right. ‘Oh shit mom must have found the tampons. My drawer is open and they are in plain sight.’
I fish out my chocolate wrap around skirt. After snuggling it around my waist over a half slip, I put on my cream colored camisole. How many choices do I have? I bet mom will freak more than she has when she finds out how many clothes I need. That is if I live through this. As I rummage through my vanity drawer looking for those clip on earrings I thought I heard Dr. Cox’s voice. I put my ear against the door.
“Simone, Claude calm down. Jean-Marie never lied to you. I did not know until she called that you thought she was boy. Everybody in the neighborhood thinks she is a girl. I have always known she is a girl.”
I could hear my parents shouting their denial insisting I was boy. But Emily Cox remained calm.
“Here are the prints from the MRI we did last week. You can see Jeanette was not lying to you. Didn’t you listen when I told you expect spotting that her time was near? Your son never pretended to be a girl. Jean-Marie was afraid to hurt you, by telling you, he is a girl. You have a wonderful daughter I am proud of. You should be as well.”
All I could hear after that was crying. I, don’t know who was crying. I also thought I heard another Molson can pop open. That cannot be good. I am not sure how I will like home schooling and not being allowed to see Traci, Pam or Becky again. I doubt mom will be easy to get along with after I axed her career.
Just when I started liking school and had some solid friends things get screwed up. Then I heard it, the voice of my father.
“Jeanette would you please come downstairs. Doctor Cox would like to speak with you. Your parents would like to meet their daughter.”
I looked in the mirror startled at what I heard. I unlocked the door almost afraid to step out into the hall. The long descent down those stairs seemed like an eternity. I saw Dr. Cox standing there and rushed to her. She wrapped her arms around me as my parents stood awe struck.
Dad put down his Molson gaping. Here I stood feeling pretty as Dad continued to gape.
“How could I ever mistake you for a boy?”
There was a tear in his eye. Mother’s tick finally settled down as she smiled.
“Emily confirms you had your first period in September. You managed it ok?”
I giggled nodding.
“With Traci’s help.”
Doctor Cox raised her brow.
“That is where my box of tampons went.”
We all laughed at that. When I suddenly grew braver.
“Mom Dave is not queer. He has a crush on me.”
I then opened my mouth.
“Now that you know you have a daughter will you change my name? No hyphen, first name Jeanette.”
I turned to Doctor Cox.
“Middle name, Emily.”
Needless to say home schooling did not happen as I continued attending Exeter. Mom found out how much money a teenage girl cost on our first shopping trip. I still do the laundry and cook. Dad still has a distaste in his mouth for Dave. I heard him mumbling about Dave the other night. We had gone to a dance and when he brought me home his arms were wrapped around my waist. The kiss was amazing and I wanted more. The front door opened with dad saying “good night Dave.”
As I went up the stairs I heard father speaking to mother.
“I liked that boy better when I thought he was gay. I am still not used to Evan showing up all the time with that lost expression.”
Mom replied,
“Get used to it dear. There are many more where they came from. She is going to a dance with Evan next week.”
I, don’t know what will happen next anymore than how I ended up this way. Evan, who wants to go steady me claims I am supposed to. He keeps saying the game got it wrong. Saris loved Troy not Raul. He tried to tell me Troy is always the hero in games. Whoever heard of a hero named Raul? According to wiki the game was an intergalactic plot. Evan is certain that’s what did it.
I asked Emily Cox if taking those hormones could have changed me. She is a doctor. She told me taking those hormones could have caused breasts to grow. Hormones will not alter genes. They cannot turn a y to an x or the other way around.
“Honey you were born a girl.”
Her answer is certainly easier to accept. I have the nagging suspicion the movies are right, you can’t trust aliens. So dear reader you are going to have to go with the answer you like. Because I, don’t have a clue.
Case Number 1 Jason Martin Reprobate
The book of fate appears in many forms. It can reveal itself as a book, computer game, physical place or some other variation. Some believe it is a product of an organization established to right perceived wrongs.
Those who escaped its grasp believe it is a cult, a powerful one formed by a coven of witches. There is no proof to substantiate any such claim. Modern society rejects witches, vampires or warlocks as existing. No one who may have escaped ever dared to speak aloud of their experience. No one hearing their stories would accept them. Escape or not, real or not anyone invited to any of its manifestations discovers their lives are permanently altered.
This is a complete stand alone story in the Book of Fate universe. To be determine if any similar stories will be added. It depends on how this goes
Permission granted to Big Closet only, rights reserved by author.
Erika Rabideau stepped inside the elaborate conference room at Siler Lake. She carried a single manila folder under her arm. The tall slender woman nearing thirty years of age appeared much younger. Her black hair cut in a mid length rested above her shoulders as it framed her face. Dark green eyes were her dominate feature. Deep oval emerald pools commanded all they viewed. Many adversaries swore she could see into their souls. Smoothing her ankle length skirt as she sat her visage scanned the other woman.
Casey Sheldon sat waiting for her associate at the long hand polished oak table. She folded her arms as a warming gesture having entered moments ago. September proved colder than normal. Casey relished the massive stone fireplace blazing in the corner. The five inch disc shaped coats of arms on the hearth representing all four member families. Casey looked up at her friend.
"The snow is starting and the cold." She shook. "What did you bring us this time Erika? Or should I ask who?"
Erika slid the folder across the table her long red nails perfectly manicured. "I have a real creep this time." She watched the honey blond frown when reading the contents.
The younger Casey's eyes flamed as they scanned the most recent incident.
The two women reviewed the behavior of Jason Martin. He is a corporate lawyer on the fast track to a Partnership. Mr. Martin is a womanizer among other unsavory attributes. His most recent indiscretion caused the death of a fifteen year old girl. Karen Riley was the daughter of one of Mr. Martin's clients. He thought the girl was much older when he got her drunk. Two months later when Jason discovered she was pregnant he spent thousands correcting it. The girl grew despondent and took her life. Jason felt no guilt. No more so than when an associate gave birth to Jason's child. The woman's husband beamed with pride thinking it was his own. Jason convinced her not to make waves.
Martin engineered a concept professing it is cheaper to settle lawsuits than shut down the production line. A large auto manufacturer had a design defect that caused gas tank explosions resulting in many deaths. Rather than recall and replace Jason pointed out it was less costly to pay damages. Corporate profits rose. Jason received a hefty bonus while victims increased. An associate who complained mysteriously left the firm. Jason commented about the victims "it sucks to be them." According to Jason the kid associate did not have the stones to play in the big leagues.
Casey took a deep breath, "the committee approved this?"
Erika agreed adding "Mr. Martin deserves our attention."
Casey pushed back her chair stood then walked to the window. The lake almost glowed in the moonlight. Pines dusted with a trace of recent snow bowed slightly. The woman reached into a brief case removing a large envelope. Erika accepted it acknowledging the woman's offered plan.
A few moments later she smiled. "Who is going to execute this?"
The younger woman answered, "Beth. Let the games begin."
It was Friday evening September 30 when Jason and Matt Rawson sat in a dimly lit bar having a quiet conversation. The Roost, a cozy well appointed gathering place, sat a few blocks east of the financial district. The corporate partners and Wall Street barons gathered here evenings to make deals. Big screen displays projected sporting events over the din of voices. The green marble bar with ornate wood work sparkles. It is the proprietor’s pride. Marty Seaton never passed on describing to anyone within earshot how he managed to obtain green marble. Several attractive waitresses wearing white blouses tucked into black mini skirts balance trays while hustling for patrons.
Matt turns his head evaluating a waitress walking toward their table.
"She drives me into serious fantasy land Martin old boy."
Jason offers a wry smile. "I assure you, Nancy Flynn is worth every penny." He too focuses on longs legs scantily covered by a black skirt. The woman draws near unable to hear Matt and Jason's conversation.
Rawson narrows his eyes pointed at Martin. "What do you mean?"
Jason sips his drink speaking in a matter of fact tone. "If you want her make a good offer. She is not cheap. She wears a skirt and has great legs. She is still a commodity all women are. You pay a premium for better ones."
At that moment Nancy steps to the table. She leans close to Jason, "another round?" Jason nods. Nancy brings her lips close to Jason's ear. "Hubby went crazy when I told him, I won a pair of season tickets to the Knicks games."
Martin laughs, "won? You mean earned."
Nancy whispers, "a mix of business and pleasure." Then walks back to the bar.
Matt's eyes widen, "Knicks tickets? You gave her Knicks tickets, why?" His voice trails off.
Jason repeats the question and answers it. "Why, let's say she has five fingers like a mouth and a mouth like five fingers." He drops a few bills on the table. "Night Matt, I have to get up early."
Matt raises his brows disappointed. "You did the woman I fantasize about for basketball tickets?"
Jason turns to Matt, "ten thousand dollars worth of basketball tickets. I did you a favor she is just a piece. Like I said a commodity, bought, sold and bartered."
The night air was crisp this last week of September. Manhattan was more gray than usual in the still night. Jason drove his sports car with the top down braving the chill. He could sense the pending Partnership. With it the victory over Cassandra Packard. Jason needed to put that woman in her place. Cassandra represented the ultimate challenge. Not only came the Partnership and power but Cassandra would become his pawn. He sped into his underground parking space squealing his tires as is his habit.
He absently thumbed through his stack of mail offering no attention to it. Once inside his lavish condo he dropped the pile on a small table. A sensual voice sounded from his bedroom. Inside, Mary his present girl friend lie naked on the bed. He slid into her rapidly raising a cooing sound from the purring beauty. Though Jason's passion was high his thoughts focused on his next conquest. He envisioned Cassandra with her long raven hair under him ministering to his every need. 'Soon' he thought as he drifted to sleep. He spent the weekend preparing for the Monday meeting and Cassandra’s demise.
Cassandra Packard is a statuesque raven haired beauty. She happened to be a tough no nonsense litigator, who took no prisoners. She became locked in a battle with Jason Martin for a Partnership at their law firm. Everyone knew Williams, Lawson and Smith intended to announce their Partner selection at the November meeting. Cassandra and Jason were on the fast track.
Cassandra stepped into her office and buzzed Claire her associate. Ms. Packard dressed in a navy power skirt suit sat back in her leather chair as Claire entered.
"Claire do you have the research on Ralston Biotech?"
Ms. Collins fingered her hair as is her habit. She sat in the wing chair smoothing her skirt while crossing her legs. "Yes Ms. Packard. As you instructed I kept it hush hush. No one has a hint."
Cassandra leans forward almost whispering. She had the office swept for bugs an hour ago. Ms. Packard took no chances. "See that no one finds out. It means your job if they do."
The woman flushed clearly unsettled. Cassandra was not Jason Martin. She assured her young associate including an unexpected statement. "If it goes well you will get a four figure bonus. Not from the firm but from me, I reward loyalty. If Martin snoops around, give him nothing."
Claire stood smiling and clearly surprised about the bonus. "I promise, I booked your tickets from my personal account. There is no connection to the firm. Accounting will not know about this. I will not let on to anyone."
Cassandra nods her eyes sparkling. "The Judge, what about the Judge has he asked any questions?" Claire answers in the negative, then steps out of the office. Cassandra stares out her office window. It is seven A.M. 'I wonder where the worm is.' She pondered to herself regarding Martin. She was well aware of ruthless Jason Martin and his designs on her.
Ms. Packard considered Jason in the sack expecting he is darn good. It is his attitude. She is well aware of his ideas on commodities. Cassandra heard all the conquest stories and the disregard of his women. Ms. Packard resolved not only to achieve Partner but to change Jason's life. The corner office with its bonuses and perks called to her. Obscene billable hours with millions in revenue she will present to the firm by delivering Ralston Biotech will secure Partner for her.
She buzzed Claire again, "can you come in for a minute?"
Claire Collins, a petite redhead sat quietly awaiting her boss's next request. Claire idolized Cassandra, she was loyal to a fault. As a junior associate she too is in quest of next rung on the corporate ladder. Ms. Collins was eager to please her boss. Accurate precise and timely work had become her trademark. The woman appeared a bit nervous having not anticipated another request so soon.
"I will get to the point, Claire." Cassandra began emitting a stern gaze. "You know Judge Bryerson don't you?"
Claire nodded remaining quiet unsure where this is going.
"I have a meeting with the partners in fifteen minutes. There is a small matter before the court. It is the Nailor case. You did the research for it. I want you to present the summation to the judge. Can you do it?" Cassandra offers a severe gaze.
Claire gulps. "You want me to," her voice trails off.
Ms. Packard shakes her head, "of course I have faith in you."
Stunned, the woman agrees picks up the brief case and runs to court.
Three Partners filed into the Conference room as worried Associates sat in their assigned places. This room screamed elegance rightly so as tens of thousands of dollars funded its attributes. Marcus Williams took his seat at the head while Davis Lawson sat to his right with Wilfred Smith on the left. The three Senior Associates sat in the center and the juniors at the end. Williams applied pressure at the outset when he announced the date of the Partnership appointment is November first. He then quizzed Mark Taylor a Senior Associate about the error he made costing the firm a few hundred thousand. Taylor sputtered a bit excusing the issue.
The Partners were in no mood for excuses. Wilfred Smith posed a remarkable resemblance to his namesake, the actor, Wilfred Brimley. Though twenty years or so younger he ended most oratory with, "it's the right thing to do." Wilfred Smith narrowed his brows at Taylor his tone critical and to the point. "The firm expects results not excuses." Jason smiled thinking, 'one less competitor,' while offering a plastic sympathetic nod to his associate.
It was Monday, October third at the beginning of the fourth quarter. The Partners focus zeroed in on preserving expected large bonuses and enhancing billable hours. Williams probed each Senior Associate to determine if one of them is a rainmaker. The firm is adding a partner for the first time in ten years. Wilfred Smith leaned toward Cassandra noting she was reading a text message. "I trust you have information in which to enlighten the board, Ms. Packard?"
Cassandra, without a wince nodded, she noted Martin's wry smile. "Certainly Mr. Smith, Judge Bryerson signed off on the Nailor merger moments ago." Three Partners smiled. "Very good," they said in unison. Martin mumbled under his breath, "the split bottom strikes again." The Partners focused upon Martin continuing their probe.
Williams began, "Jason where are you on the Bangor Municipal bond restructuring?" Martin clears his throat. "I am attending to the closing particulars next Friday. Our client, Mall Associates, will be very generous when we secure the city's agreement to fund their expansion." Marcus Williams adjourned the meeting. "Until November first when one of you receives good news."
Monday evening, Jason Martin opened his overnight letter from Siler Shores Association. The short simple note intrigued him. It read. "You have attributes that the Association admires. Do not discard this invitation. Our membership includes only the most powerful. Joining Siler Shores will provide benefits you can only dream about. Follow the thirty-six hour limited web link. We will not contact you again unless you respond. You cannot engage Siler Shores after this window expires."
Jason regarded this an elaborate joke. However, it piqued his curiosity. He logged onto the internet site for a laugh. What he viewed further intrigued him. Pictures of an exclusive lodge appointed in luxurious fashion commanded attention. One magnified photo demanded study. He clearly viewed the vice President with Judge Bryerson. Then he saw her, Cassandra Packard with two equally beautiful women. Shocked, he tried to disconnect only to receive a warning. "Exiting without accepting the invitation will terminate future contact." Jason accepted.
Less than a week remained before the Columbus holiday providing Jason little time to resolve his questions. He puzzled over who could have sent the invitation. Equally troubling is who does he know influential enough that would invite him. He is certain both the Judge and Cassandra know far more than either will admit. He barely knows the Judge and Cassandra hates him.
He reasoned it unlikely Judge Bryerson implemented such an elaborate scheme. Jason had little interaction with the Judge during his career. Cassandra, his toughest rival was responsible for the invitation it is a trap. He, envisions the woman under him with every orifice filled with his seed. ‘If she swallows I'll provide a glowing referral.’ He retires pondering what trap Cassandra is setting.
Early Tuesday morning Jason entered his office before anyone else had arrived. There it was a mysterious overnight letter sitting on his otherwise empty desk. "Who put that here?" Jason mused aloud. "None of the delivery services could possibly have been here this early."
His desk clock reported six forty-five A.M. Jason became convinced the overnight deliveries were a ruse created by someone inside the firm. Cassandra must be behind this, so he reasoned. 'Or, he thought, one of the Partners with inside information about the promotion next month. It is very likely an exclusive corporate club.'
Jason decided he needed to do some probing. The logical starting point is Cassandra's office. He was about to enter her office to poke around when he saw her enter the reception area. Ms. Packard paused speaking to her receptionist. Quickly, Jason turned back into his office. He lusted watching Cassandra stride elegantly toward her office. Her sharp ecru skirt rose a bit allowing a greater view of those shapely legs. Her high cheek bones and perfect shape drove Jason to distraction. Her complete capitulation will satisfy him.
He opened the letter to find typed instructions written on a single sheet of expensive stationary. The only identifier was the Siler Shores logo. No return address no other sign of who, what or where this organization is. He smiled, ‘whoever it is they have gone to great pains.’ He read the letter to discover mysterious directions.
His instructions were to drive state highway 15 thirty-five miles northwest from Bangor Maine to Forest Service Road 02401. Follow that twenty-four miles northeast to a small parking area to meet the driver. Expect snow and use a four wheel drive vehicle with winch.
Jason searched Google, Map Quest, Delorme the Maine Gazetteer and his Garman GPS. None of those sources located FS 02401. That did not surprise him because they all use the same USGS basic maps.
He also knew logging roads are fluid and standard maps do not update frequently enough to record local changes.
Corporate lawyers are not the type expected to understand the Forest Service system. Martin did not know the designated road usage dictated their names. The U.S. Forest Service coded types of road by their names.
For instance two digit names indicate a main road often paved or at least gravel and well maintained.
Three digit numbers were likely to be secondary roads often usable by standard vehicles. Often means not always.
The exception are those beginning with the number zero. Those roads were often suspect. He also did not know that roads identified with four or more numerals beginning with zero had a special meaning. It was Jason's misfortune he did not consider knowing a Forest Ranger had value. If he had, he would have known 02401 meant stay the fuck off it.
Before digging into his work assignments, Jason called Eleanor Belanger. Ellie is the Judge’s assistant who owed favors to Jason. It was he who secured her employment by using his contacts. It cost Ellie in ways that made her uncomfortable. She justified it because Mr. Martin offered considerable appeal. This favor was easy. She agreed to inform him if Siler Shores meant anything to the Judge.
He then called Cassandra’s aide securing a similar favor. He had little faith Claire Collins would provide information Cassandra valued as confidential. Jason had little recourse. He set himself to work while awaiting results of his quires.
Dark gray overcast skies enveloped Siler Lake where two women stood on the dock. Erika Rabideau spoke assuredly to Casey Sheldon as they rushed toward the lodge. "I understand Eleanor Belanger is on board."
The women reached shelter in the lodge where a warming fire illuminated the room. Casey nodded her agreement with Erika adding, "the Judge is as well."
Seth Granger, the organization's everyman interrupted by placing a decanter of warm brandy on the table. "Dinner is in an hour ladies." He quietly exited when the women smiled and nodded. Erika fixed her gaze toward the darkening lake then turned back to face Casey.
“Events are closing rapidly Mr. Martin accepted the invitation. Preparations advance for Friday as we speak. Do you anticipate any difficulties Casey?"
Casey Sheldon paused her face expressing concern. "The Bangor bond issue remains undetermined. I trust our best people are on this."
Erika fingered her hair smiling assuring Casey she is actively forcing the issue. The two women adjourned the short meeting.
Ms. Rabideau sat quietly eating her dinner in the dining room. The Victorian motif elegantly set with ornate engravings in highly polished hand cut woods spelled exclusive. Stained glass high windows gleamed reflecting light from elaborate chandeliers. A soft assured voice penetrated her deep thoughts.
"Erika my dear, I understand you have concerns." Said the poised Judge Bryerson.
She regards him positioned against a stately background relieved the Judge had arrived.
"Yes, I do."
Erika presses Judge Bryerson to enlighten her about his motivation for this matter. His eyes narrowed when he enunciated the word murder. Erika's expression turned pale upon discovery of Karen Riley's relationship to the Judge. Martin wronged a powerful man creating a dangerous adversary when he caused the death of Judge Bryerson's niece. "There are moles inside Mall Associates," reported the Judge. He added, "the Association's remedy is poetic justice. I'd be an embittered old bastard to insist upon a greater penalty."
The Judge turned to see Seth Granger delivering a dispatch. He read with interest reporting, "My diligent associate Eleanor, has set the trap." He kisses Erika's hand, "I regret I must remain aloof. Friday's adventure promises to be entertaining." Judge Bryerson with greater satisfaction excused himself.
Erika ponders the group's progress. The woman is now certain of success. She calls Casey requesting she instruct Beth to clearly define her role.
Wednesday, October fifth, Jason sat patiently in a darkened booth at The Roost waiting for Eleanor Belanger. Jason drank in the perky blond, his eyes never leaving her shapely legs. Eleanor wore the uniform well. Uniform regarding professional women meant a power suit accented by a short skirt no longer than an inch or two above the knee. She was another commodity flashing her legs offering a powerful asset. 'Oh if this were a different time or place I'd take advantage.' He thought. His eyes never leaving those legs.
She ordered a chef salad with black coffee before addressing Jason. Jason stared across the table at the resolute posture facing him. Eleanor waited for Jason's inevitable question. Jason posed the question probing Judge Bryerson's relationship to Siler Shores. Eleanor played the game well relenting after a fashion. She admitted she heard something about the Association in passing. Her information was intentionally sketchy to fuel a sense of secrecy. She could not confirm or deny membership for the Judge. Jason thanked her suggesting a romantic dinner. In a symbolic gesture, Eleanor declined kissing him on the cheek. Eleanor stood whispering, "Jason we are even. Don't ask for any more favors."
Judge Bryerson swiveled in his leather chair listening to Eleanor report on the meeting with Mr. Martin. The Judge's chamber, moderately appointed measures twelve by fourteen feet. The woman sits on a leather easy chair repeating her conversation with Jason. Bryerson hears a hundred unasked questions sensing his aide's curiosity. He stands dismissing her commenting on a job well done. Her fingers splay the door handle when the Judge speaks.
"Eleanor, Siler Shores is an exclusive social club. Jason Martin is not worthy of membership as you are."
Jason read a text message from Claire Collins denying knowledge of Siler Shores. He anticipated the text to say exactly that. He called Lisa Morgan, his Junior Associate requesting the Mall Associates file.
He appreciated Lisa for her tenacity and exacting work. Accuracy is her hallmark. Her efforts helped create the deal he presently negotiates. She was just another commodity to insure his rise to Partner.
Jason felt a rise in a familiar place when Lisa entered with the file. Her long blond hair neatly tied into a bun presented the professional look the firm demanded. Her skirt settled at the knees framed by a stylish ruffled tan blouse. Jason motions her to sit as he accepts the file.
Lisa crosses her legs while leaning forward listening to instructions.
She regards him carefully admiring his physical presence. She understands he is the agent she requires to advance the corporate ladder. "I found the conference interesting." She offers, assured.
Jason nods. "There will be a new Senior Associate in the end." Jason thinks privately. 'How astute is she?' "Lisa, I have a letter for you."
She accepts the letter. Lisa reads Jason's glowing assessment of her work. She will find a way to insure delivery of this recommendation.
Jason chooses his words carefully. "Your work on Mall Associates demonstrated exceptional intuition. I will request one more task to seal the deal."
Lisa blinks, she did not expect another request, "one more task?"
Jason walks to the front of the desk standing before Lisa. "Accompany me to Bangor on the corporate jet. You can present the bond restructuring proposal to the City and Mall Associates. I have urgent business nearby I must attend to."
Stunned with exciting news Lisa broadens her smile. "Certainly, it is an honor to close the deal." Lisa notices a disturbing change in Jason's appearance. His midsection forms an unmistakable impression. Jason smiles as he ponders his next manipulation. 'How intuitive is she?'
Lisa's tilts her head upward to meet his steely gaze, "is that all?"
Jason understands fully the risk regarding commodities. With confidence, he unzips his pants, "there is one more requirement."
Lisa nods lowering her face to meet his appendage. Her fingers astutely guide it into her mouth. Her ministrations achieve rapid results causing her to swallow hard.
Jason exhales satisfied. 'She is an asset.' "I am staying at a private club. Use the Firm's credit card and book the most expensive suite you can find for yourself in Bangor. We will return on Monday.”
Jason had little knowledge of the Mall Associates deal. Lisa's understanding the particulars will seal it. He is fortunate to have a sexy commodity to work for his credit. He will keep his promise and she will become a Senior. There are thousands just like her. He only needs to shake the tree.
The episode left a bad taste in Lisa's mouth in more ways than one. She studied the proposal with a discerning eye to ferret out what troubled her. Her clock struck four P.M. when she made a disturbing discovery. Lisa stared down shocked by a paragraph mysteriously inserted. Having written the proposal this was her project.
Lisa understood at once Jason stands to profit as her career ends. She placed a call, "Erin is Mr. Williams available?"
Each Partner directs one Senior Associate. Each Senior serves as representative of his supervising Partner. Martin is the lead Senior Associate. He serves Marcus Williams the CEO. Each Partner expects Martin will become the new Partner. It is not automatic as each consider a promotion for their Senior a reflection on themselves. Each Partner has one vote in the matter. Davis Lawson consistently lobbies for Cassandra Packard. Even Wilfred Smith agrees Cassandra is obviously a better choice. Mark Taylor's star has fallen causing Wilfred to favor Cassandra. The battle lines are clear it is Jason versus Cassandra.
Jason and Lisa boarded the jet each with their own agenda. Lisa is confident her adjusted plan will increase her standing. The two exchanged few words beyond instructions issued by Jason. Their relationship diminished since Jason forced a sexual favor from Lisa. His self centered need to dominate created yet another enemy. Lisa studied her notes framing her argument and did not inform Jason of the changes. They parted at the car rental lot.
Jason Martin drove route fifteen a considerable distance recalling directions provided at the rental car office. The man's directions reported, if you reach Corinth you went too far. About twenty-five miles from the city a tiny brown board sign appeared on his right. A narrow single tract road identified as 02401 angled to the northeast. Jason cringed sensing a tightening of his neck upon viewing the imposing overgrown grass and dirt tract. He noted within the first mile the loss of his cell signal.
The rough road created multiple difficulties. The nightmare increased caused by greater obstacles. Snow, deep ruts, steepening grade and a narrowing tract. Jason reached the parking area having lost both cell service and his gps satellite. He called from a phone box reaching Siler Shores. Jason did not consider it odd to find an isolated phone box in a desolate national forest.
Jason pondered his stupidity isolating himself without phone service or gps. Bone chilling cold penetrated while he paced knee deep snow. He discovered relief upon seeing Seth Granger crest a rise driving a horse drawn sleigh.
Seth navigated the heavy sleigh expertly to a dark icy body of water. Jason rushed to the deck overlooking Siler Lake. Erika and Casey ushered Jason inside the massive lodge.
Seth poured warm brandy into large crystal glasses handing one each to Erika, Casey and Jason. The women welcomed Mr. Martin pointing out opulent features present in the lodge. The Vice President of the United States, Jonas Carson shook Jason’s hand offering any assistance the new comer may need. Jason searched without seeing any sign of Cassandra.
Jason stepped to the hearth noting the coats of arms. He asked about the families, “who do these represent.” Jason examined each intricate coat of arms adorning the stone hearth. He held out the gold trimmed plaque with twin lions facing a large P. Erika gently took the family crest admiring it “intricate gold laced engravings. It is a work of art honoring the Parker family.” She reported to Jason the others were Sheldon, Olson and with pride Rabideau. Her family crest is the most ornate Victorian engraving of the group.
Jason finished his brandy before he set down his cup Seth appeared from nowhere to fill it. Erika laughed at Jason’s startled reaction. “It happens all the time, one of the membership benefits. Your every desire consummated.”
Before Jason can react to Erika’s choice of the word consummated, he saw what he desired. Suddenly, a radiant Cassandra Packard glided across the foyer. She was more striking than usual wearing a long pastel blue Victorian taffeta gown. She pulled a heavy brass ring opening a heavier oaken door and stepped through without hearing his call. Jason expected Cassandra was present her sudden appearance should not have been a surprise. He rushed through the door to discover an expansive deserted deck.
Casey and Erika rushed behind Jason showing concern, “what is wrong? Jason, never one to lose control, fearing humiliation minimized his reaction. Jason chose his words carefully.
“I saw an associate pass by unexpectedly as no one in my circle is a member. Caught by surprise, I called her name following her but she disappeared.”
When Jason identified Cassandra Packard both women denied ever hearing the name. Casey’s assured Jason his vision was a product of exhaustion and brandy. Seth mysteriously reappeared suggesting Jason retire for the night. Erika promised a tour of Siler Lake Village tomorrow.
She explained “it is a private association community.”
Seth led Jason to his lavish room. Erika leaned against the deck’s railing smiling at Casey, “it goes well.”
Beth leans against the hearth admiring her family crest as the two women enter the sitting room. Erika raises a devilish smile embracing her closet friend. "You outshined yourself with that stroke of brilliance, Beth." Beth Parker giggles admitting she has never seen a man so obsessed with a woman.
Jason fell into a deep sleep lying motionless on his back when the dream began. Cassandra Packard smiled down slowly peeling back the sheet revealing Jason's naked body. Unable to move Jason passed into ecstasy as Cassandra pressed against him. He schemed and plotted to dominate this beautiful woman into submission. His passion released in a strange fashion instead of the usual ejaculation it felt like an implosion. Jason experienced several orgasms before the sun came up.
Jason woke alone rationalizing his graphic dream. Evidence stained his sheets confirming multiple orgasms Seth eagerly reported to Erika. Jason's consumed his morning with a tour of the lodge. The lawyer, duly impressed by its regal presence rushed to sign the Association contract. Oddly, Jason noticed his familiar urge dissipated in the company of Erika and Casey. Normally he'd be plotting ways to bed both.
Saturday afternoon Casey escorted Jason to the ferry transporting him to the island village of Siler Lake. Street lights aligned the sidewalks designed to resemble old fashioned gas lamps. Jason marveled as Casey explained they were modern electric lamps. She pressed against him obviously flirting placing her hand on his hip. She mused aloud, "it is a result of the Association wanting to replicate a Victorian town, dear."
During the tour he noticed an apothecary, a corner grocery store and a post office. The streets, constructed of cobble stone featured brick sidewalks on each side. The grounds of each home displayed expansive lawns leading up to wrap around porches.
Casey again squeezed his hand as Mrs. Miller exited one of the attractive homes to greet them. She introduced Jason and the woman warmly greeted him. Two young women strolling down the street presented what Jason considered an unsettling leer as if to consider him. He flushed as Casey brushed a stray hair from his brow.
“You look flushed, would you like to rest a bit?”
Jason nodded assuring he was fine as Casey led him into an attractive house. It is a two story structure with spiral cupolas. A bright beige adorned exterior siding framed by white borders. Jason glanced down concerned because her hand remained on his hip guiding him. Upon noticing his discomfort she withdrew immediately.
"I'm sorry dear I am afraid my forwardness offended your sensibilities."
Jason blushed feeling rather odd. They sat in a closed in back porch overlooking a garden as Seth served an elegant dinner of fish and white wine. Jason agreed to stay at this house for the night to experience a Victorian setting. Seth serving as man servant laid out the bed clothes featuring an old fashioned nightshirt. He and Casey excused themselves leaving Jason alone to retire.
Saturday and Sunday night’s dreams for Jason grew progressively more vivid. Cassandra became more dominate with each encounter causing Jason to believe it was she who entered him. Both mornings he awoke exhausted making him dependent on afternoon naps. Seth presented as the perfect man servant anticipating Jason's every need.
Jason surveyed the expansive grounds with elaborate fountains framed by rose bushes. He determined with his Partnership secured he'd bring Cassandra here to manage his home. He reasoned she’d prefer this setting to the competitive corporate world. Confused over the dreams he convinced himself Cassandra was present.
Erika and Casey waived goodbye to Jason as Seth transported him back to his vehicle on Monday morning.
The two women met in the conference room with Beth to review events. Erika addressed Beth,
“you were incredible. Beth did you hear what an unredeemable devil Casey can be?”
Beth and Casey laugh in unison while Erika squeals on Casey.
"Casey said to Jason, I'm sorry dear I am afraid my forwardness offended your sensibilities."
Beth nearly splits her sides laughing struggling to regain control. With a sense of irony she adds
“I believe Mr. Martin is about to experience first hand what being a commodity means.”
Casey replies, “Beth, my teasing was mild compared to your behavior. Three nights in a row you raped him.”
Beth giggles, “the first was the application of justice sanctioned by the court. I scored the first time Friday night. Saturday and Sunday? Put it this way it was all for my pleasure. That boy is darn good. You can‘t rape the willing. Believe Jason Martin was more than willing.”
Jason exits the logging road turning onto State Highway 15 toward Bangor. He does not notice the forest collapse around the single track road sealing it's entrance. Five miles down the highway Jason remembers he left his watch behind. He turns to drive back to discover he cannot locate the logging road. Frustrated, he drives to the city certain he simply missed a turn.
On Tuesday, October 11th Jason arrived at the office his usual time of seven A.M. He felt strange this morning an odd combination of tired and weak gripped him. After reviewing Lisa's report on the bond issue, he called Mall Associates.
Harold Gaines, their mergers and acquisitions point man informed him the board issued a favorable commendation to Jason's firm. Jason congratulated Lisa offering a job well done while promising rewards for services rendered.
Lisa smiled. She exited Jason’s office with the thought. ‘You have no idea.’
Jason pondered the corner office with lavish appointments suitable for his partnership.
Cassandra Packard stood at the receptionists desk with a smirk. She watched Jason for the third time in the last half hour dash into the men’s room.
“Has Mr. Martin contacted something we should be concerned about” Shelly asked.
Cassandra offered a shrug pretending she had no knowledge. The woman could plead innocence if she stretched the meaning of the word complicent. Cassandra issues a wry expression toward Shelly.
"Shelly, my dear, Mr. Martin's life style endangers us all. I strongly urge all females to avoid physical proximity where Jason Martin is concerned."
Cassandra instructed Shelly to request Claire come to her office as soon as possible. Cassandra reported to Claire details of her meeting with Mr. Lawson this morning.
"I must tell you the excellent work you did in court earned Lawson's support for promotion to Senior."
Claire raised her brows in surprise. She suspected Ms. Packard supported her but she refused to raise her expectations.
"Thank you." Was all she could muster attempting to mask her excitement. Excitement was evident, however.
Cassandra escorted Claire to the reception area where she noticed Jason walking with an odd gait.
Shelly leaned toward Cassandra blocking Jason's view as she pointed to the bathroom. She mouthed the word ‘again.’
Ms. Packard studied Jason attempting to discern his strange behavior. "Mr. Martin is something wrong?"
Jason froze upon hearing Cassandra's question. He denied profusely trying to avoid her gaze. She twisted the knife deeper commenting he must of had an interesting weekend. Jason nodded escaping into his office.
He sat in his office complaining about constant stomach cramps and throwing up. "It must have been something I ate."
Jason focused on Cassandra attempting to piece together what she had done to him. He knew his dreams were no more than his vivid imagination. They were so real, so exotic, so intense. Jason purged his destructive thoughts and returned to his current project.
That evening in bed with Mary, he appeared distracted. The usual intensity missing providing little satisfaction and Mary noticed.
She sat up plying her fingers to his stomach massaging. “You feel puffy.” She moved her talented fingers splaying them teasingly on his chest. Jason flinched causing Mary to question, “what is wrong?”
Jason reaffirmed his denial by not answering. He calmly excused himself rushing to the bathroom.
Mary heard an unmistakable sound of retching as he emptied the contents of his stomach.
Jason returned sheepishly explaining symptoms he’d experienced. Mary raised a brow forming a crooked smile.
“When friends describe cramps, weakness and vomiting there is a condition to define it. The important question becomes, did you miss your period.”
Jason stared at her with a piercing gaze. “Can you offer any other intelligent tidbits?”
Mary leans forward whispering, "go to the doctor." She jokingly quips, "it is not mine."
Jason did not go to the doctor because a man does not run to the medics with every ache and pain. The vomiting stopped and the cramps lessened. Tuesday turned into Friday as the week wound down without any additional issues. He hardly considered Cassandra beyond beating her in the Partner competition. His sexual conquest of the woman appeared less important. Jason grew more sensitive to odd stares emanating from female employees.
This day, Friday the fifteenth of October was another of those hideous firm events Jason detested. The politically correct bring your brat to work day.
Jason stepped into the reception room to notice Cassandra and Claire staring in his direction. He averted his gaze toward Sarah Cummings, a temp answering phones. She appeared troubled. He questioned the woman, "is there a problem?"
Sarah shrugged pointing to seven year old Emily. "My daughter, they called me into a training conference and I cannot bring her."
Jason considers a moment, his hatred of anything family is widely known. He asks the sandy haired girl, "Emily do you like to read?"
The girl answered in the affirmative. Jason addressed Sarah considerately, "a client left several childrens books in my office. Emily can read them while waiting for you. Call the cafeteria and have them send up what she likes for lunch.“
Nearly shocked as were several who heard, Sarah agreed. She uttered a "thank you" Too astonished to speak further.
The last two weeks of the month presented extreme difficulties to Jason. His stomach settled down easing his chronic queasy feeling. Mary was correct insisting he avoid alcohol and fatty foods. There were other more ominous effects. He lost four consecutive hand ball games to associates. That never happened. In the weight room the normally buff, trim Jason demonstrated an uncommon weakness. A strange puffy like appearance to his mid section and general lack of vigor settled over him.
Jason approached the Partners Conference with confidence. His promotion certain in his mind, however, something nagged at him. Perhaps the feeling was a byproduct of his persistent agitation and general unease. He determined to take control. He suddenly recalled the odd logging road. Jason called the district Forest Service office in central Maine.
The words following his question unnerved Jason, “there is no such road between Bangor and Corinth.”
An uncontrollable feeling of defeat rose in him. Panicked, he thought, 'The lodge, village, Erika and Casey, do they exist?' Jason steels himself to gain control and fight uncertainty. His focus turns to the expected promotion that provides security easing his queasy feeling. With regained control he designs a plan to bring Cassandra to his Victorian home on the island.
Jason notices the appraising stares from the office women when he steps into the reception area. Cassandra, demonstrates an unbelieving expression as she gazes at him. Uncharacteristically, Jason says to Cassandra, "Good luck on Monday."
Claire blinks nodding to her boss, "what is wrong with Mr. Martin?"
Cassandra giggles, "he acts like a pregnant woman."
Over the weekend Jason watched television ate chef salads and drank tea. He denied weight gain to Mary while complaining about backaches increasing. His irritability became more frequent. That prompted Mary to stay away. She was furious because he refuses to consult a doctor. Jason insists his difficulty stems from job pressure.
Jason geared for the Monday board meeting fully planned his new office. He included every minute detail. His physically drained condition prevented his placing the order. He steps into the Conference room with high expectations. Jason believed this meeting is the most important of his life. He did not know an equally important took place on the island.
Two days earlier, Erika Rabideau, Casey Sheldon, Beth Parker and Claude Olson met in the village square. The day before Halloween the temperature reached seventy degrees in this central Maine village. Claude opened the meeting by praising efficient execution of the Martin plan. Owens requested explanation of the process.
Beth Parker spoke to Claude's question. "My sisters, created a spell allowing Mr. Martin the tools to carry a child to term." Erika discussed community support available and a caring father in Beth. Claude laughed, "Mr. Martin becomes Mrs. Parker.
Olson sums up the plan as he understands it. "His sex drive dissipates and he becomes submissive to Beth continuing to give her children"
Erika explained the village is self supportive. With each child having a two parent household. Moms are stay at home caregivers Mom meaning the male partner in this community. Beth announces Jason will move into Siler Lake during the second trimester.
Erika and Casey needle their friend posing a one word question, "marriage?" Beth giggles, "of course he is a dynamo in bed."
Mr. Williams called the meeting to order. His graven expression surveyed the room singling out no one in particular. Mr. Smith stood striking a resolute pose clearing his throat. He announced Mike Taylor left the firm creating a Senior Associate opening. It caused an audible murmur throughout the room.
Smith cited a conversation with Chairman Williams. "one employee demonstrated loyalty and expertise deserving of praise. I name Lisa Morgan Senior Associate. Her astute application of critical analysis in the Mall Associates matter saved the firm."
Jason begins to stand Mr. Williams points to Jason's chair. The message is clear.
Jason silently burns while sitting motionless. Smith continues handing Lisa an Envelope. "You inherit Taylor's office and answer to me."
Associates offer a congratulatory nod toward Lisa.
Smith hands the microphone to Lawson who eagerly accepts it. Beaming with pride he points to Claire Collins. "Ms. Collins receives appointment to Senior. Her reviews are consistently exemplary. Give the woman a hand she has earned it."
Jason anticipation rises moments before the devastating news. Mr. Williams congratulated Cassandra's ascension to Partner. He cited the Ralston Biotech achievement pronouncing the firm's new name, Williams, Lawson, Smith and Packard. Jason's face slammed into the table.
Jason's diagnosis of high blood pressure accompanied a stern warning by Dr. Hastings. He prescribed medication scheduling further test for tomorrow. Ordered him home to bed abstaining work until further notice.
The next day in Doctor Hastings office Jason received an ultra sound diagnostic exam Jason blinked, "what are you suggesting?"
"Jason my boy you have all the signs of early pregnancy. I know that sounds ridiculous "Your condition is a mystery to me. All the signs are there. I'd guess four to six weeks along."
Dumbfounded, Jason remains speechless. The doctor calms him adding, "it is scientifically impossible. We treat your blood pressure while monitoring weekly." A poor attempt at humor followed, "your pregnancy Jason is worth millions on cable television."
He was instructed to meet with Mr. Williams to obtain a less stressful work load.
Marcus Williams assigned Jason to Cassandra Packard's team. Acting defeated he entered Cassandra's impressive corner office. Cassandra responded overly generous with her attitude. She sat in a leather swivel lazy boy. The stunning view through a lavish array is startling. Cassandra demonstrated concern regarding Jason's health. She probed questioning if he had enough protein and avoided alcohol. Perplexed, Jason inquired about her concern.
Cassandra carefully worded her response while walking to Jason's office. Her hand caressed his hip. "You are an excellent litigator." Cassandra spoke in a soothing voice. "Less stressful cases safeguard your condition." Cassandra introduces Troy Wilson, "he is here to assist you. Troy will be your executive assistant."
Jason becomes alarmed about her language. "Cassandra you keep mentioning my condition. What is your concern?"
Ms. Packard absently places an open palm on Jason's belly. "Don't worry about those things, pet. Rest, aerobic exercise and proper diet is all you need."
Jason Martin's case assignments occupied his interest but he felt under worked. Dr. Hastings prescribed medication successfully lowered Jason's blood pressure. Weight gain and back spasms increased more rapidly than anticipated by doctor Hastings.
Jason's back pain caused him to walk with an exaggerated waddle. Cassandra noticed this during an office meeting. Several women began to question when is the boy due.
By Christmas Jason's condition advanced toward the second trimester. Even he came to believe he was very pregnant. His relationship with Cassandra began to improve. His desire to sexually dominate and destroy the woman dissolved into another fantasy. The Cassandra, he knew was loving and concerned for his safety. His fantasy morphed into a desire to be a support for the woman.
Marcus Williams walked into Cassandra's office demanding answers. "Cassandra, make the Martin problem disappear."
Cassandra ignores his agitation focusing instead upon snow flakes drifting outside her frosted window.
"Marcus, exhale slowly and observe the beautiful delicate flakes."
Marcus shouts, "are you deaf woman!" His strained pulsating voice elevates, rising with each syllable. Her deliberate hesitation causes Marcus to explode. "Cassandra a pregnant man is not the Partner's idea of a conversation piece."
Cassandra pours a decanter of Chateau Margaux offering it to Marcus.
"I know he is pregnant twins to be exact."
A stunned Marcus sits motionless upon hearing this revelation. She presses him about the Siler Shores Association. Marcus admittedly is unaware Cassandra strongly suggest Jason can deliver their account.
She allows the numerals, one half million in annual fees to the firm penetrate slowly. “Are you on board?"
The second trimester began in mid January. Jason's condition became obvious even to the most staunch denier. By the end of the month even supportive members of the firm became uncomfortable around Jason. Several weeks earlier at the insistence of the Judge Cassandra put a halt to Jason's court appearances. Nearly isolated by research only assignments, Jason grew irritable.
At any given moment an assortment of females gathered at the water cooler. Each in turn stared toward Jason's door to emit a giggle while speaking in conspiratorial tones. More than half shared a night in Jason's bed subjected to his insatiable appetite. Some were eager others coerced and all were feeling satisfaction from his present misery.
Claudia James, an intern working with Mr. Taylor supposed to another woman, "impossible but which one of his conquest knocked him up?"
Her question raised audible groans and more giggles. Jason's secretary narrowed her brows whispering.
"He has that way of communicating his message. Either you spread your legs or apply at the unemployment office. He never uses those words but his meaning is clear."
Another woman spoke up forcefully. "I enjoy watching him skulk around Cassandra Packard. His intentions are clear but he is terrified of her. Cassandra is my heroine. She would take the pathetic loser apart." After a pause, "my bet is on her. She knocked him up by casting a spell." The gaggle of women nearly split their sides on that one.
An early February Partners only meeting Wilfred ended it with an outburst. "Cassandra, do something! The firm can't afford CNN or Fox poking around. God woman, that O'Riley guy would have a field day with this."
Cassandra blushed agreeing. "I will send him to Siler Lake. He can be our head liaison with the Siler Shores Association. Billable hours will skyrocket and their community will embrace him."
Smith mumbled, "it's the right thing to do."
Lawson and Williams sighed their obvious relief while Cassandra simply smiled.
On Valentines day the Siler Shores Association team members met in the lodge. Erika Rabideau, Casey Sheldon, Judge Bryerson and Doctor Hastings sat around the oaken table sipping brandy satisfied. "Doctor, how is Mr. Martin progressing?"
Hastings beamed with pride describing Jason. "He is well into the second trimester. Twin girls you know, healthy and thriving. I expect no complications from the pregnancy. Jason is capable of handling the law office. There are several expectant mothers to offer support."
Bryerson remained puzzled forcing him to question the two women. "How did you do this?"
Erika answers, "a spell. When Beth engaged him the spell transformed Jason's organs allowing Beth to penetrate him. Once she fertilized him, his exterior appearance posed as male. In that way Jason remained unaware. That is until his pregnancy showed. Internally, he has female plumbing enabling him to carry to term. The birthing canal will open at the proper time. Externally, he appears male. It is permanent. Any sexual activity can result in his becoming pregnant."
Bryerson's eyes widen as he probes for the correct term. "You mean you ladies have a er, uh, he stops."
Casey smiles, "Male appendage is the term you struggle over Judge. No we don't. We invert our wives’ appendage. You might say we turn their weapon on them."
Erika empties her decanter. "It is time, Cassandra and her wife should be arriving at the air strip momentarily.
Seth met Cassandra and Jason with a horse drawn Carriage. The three watched as the Corporate jet lifted over the pine trees. Cassandra assisted Jason into the carriage careful to prevent a bump or stumble. They slowly drove over cobblestone streets inhaling the clean brisk air. Row after row of stately homes with impeccable well groomed lawns passed by. Suddenly a turn onto Maple street revealed the light brown and yellow Victorian home Jason would grow to love.
On a late spring afternoon, Beth, Erika and Casey sat in the village park. Several men pushed children in strollers pausing to greet each other and fuss over the children.
Erika turned to Beth, "you have embraced the name Cassandra. It is a lovely name I take it you agree?”
Beth nods her agreement. "I do, it is less confusing for dear Jason. He knows me as Cassandra. He is delicate so I consider his sensibilities. You know how bad I wanted that partnership. Jason was such a scheming bastard. His abuse of women was intolerable."
“How is he doing are the babies too much for him?” Erika asks with concern.
Beth laughs, “he adores the girls constantly fussing over them and tends to every need. He has become a perfect little mother.” The woman rolls her eyes, “he has taken to breast feeding them assured natural milk brings them closer together.”
Erika nods continuing in a darker vein. “The plan was to impregnate the bastard and drive him insane. We now have to face unintended consequences because we did not consider long term effects. This was not to be a permanent on going circumstance. You were not supposed to fall in love with the creep.”
Beth agrees with Erika expounding on her suggestion. “I know Erika but when Dr. Hastings showed me the pictures of the girls your unintended consequences hit me hard. They are my babies. I could not harm them. The associations’ plan would have destroyed my girls.”
Beth suddenly trembled before regaining her composure.
“Then that womanizing bastard suddenly morphed into a caring protective nurturing mother. Everything he did was with the babies best interest at heart. I was shocked. Then the firm made me his supervisor. Everyday I’d see Jason dedicated to birthing my children. He frequently lapsed on his work requirements to guard the babies health.”
A tear moistens Beth’s eye. “Suddenly this monster of a man turned into a caring mother and I fell in love. Shit talk about unintended consequences. Not only is he a great lover and dotes over me and the children, he can cook.”
Erika breaks out laughing, “girl you have it bad. Have you considered if he remains in this state,” she pauses, “periods?”
Beth hugs Erika burying her head into her sister in crime’s shoulder. “He is having one now. The flow comes out his penis. Tampons don’t work. I had to conjure up a new style napkin. He hates the mess but the complaining stopped. I enjoy seeing him get cramps after all we put up with it. Besides it is temporary another child is in the plan.”
Several months later the Siler Shores Association Board meets in the lodge. Erika, Beth, Casey and Judge Bryerson consider several folders.
Casey turns toward Beth, “congratulations what is it this time?”
Beth beams, “Dr. Hastings says Jason will deliver a health baby boy in seven months.”
The judge clears his throat asking Beth, “how are Jennifer and Erika? I had to ask I hate being left out of your insipid girl talk.”
The women laugh as Erika calls the meeting to order.
“We have abusive narrow minded parents with confused twins. I think this is right up Casey’s alley.” She turns to Casey while pointing to Beth. “Whatever you do Casey don’t bring them here. The village resources are strained as it is.