Dougie

by Peay

Chapter One

  

The game was scoreless till the eighth inning. It was a great pitching duel, backed by excellent fielding. They had Roberts on the mound and he was pitching his usual brilliant game. He would be a pro one day, and already had his scholarship locked up to the University of Oklahoma. Johnson was our pitcher, and he was in the zone. Me, I'm Doug the batboy, and this was the game that would change my life.

In the eighth inning, after two quick outs, they substituted in someone we had never seen play. "Batting for Meyers will be John Bradley," the announcer said. As Bradley stepped out of their dugout, I couldn't understand why they put him in. He was huge, slow, and clumsy. Johnson had been working the corners all game and this looked like an easy out. The first pitch was a fast ball the just nicked the far outside corner at the knees. "Strike one," said the ump. Bradley just turned slowly, looked at the ump for a couple of seconds, then nodded his head once and turned back to the pitcher. The second pitch looked like a duplicate of the first, but what a different result. Bradley swung the bat with a huge roundhouse swing that looked familiar somehow. The bat hit the ball with that distinctive crack that signals a perfect hit, and he started lumbering down the base path to first. The ball cleared the centerfield fence by a country mile, a home run. As he slowly rounded third I realized where I had seen that swing before. Babe Ruth had swung the bat the same way.

Johnson quickly disposed of their next batter, but the damage was done. We were down one run, and had six outs to do something about it. Roberts struck out our first batter and caused the second batter to ground out, but our third batter actually got a weak single to right-center field. Our fourth batter that inning flied out, but coach told everyone to hold them, it looked like Roberts was tiring.

Three up, three down was the chant, and Johnson made it a reality. Our fifth, sixth and seventh batters were up this inning, and coach told them to make the best of it. Bill Parker stepped up to the plate, and hit a Texas-leaguer for a single. Davis came next, and he laid a near perfect sacrifice bunt down the first base line. He was out, but had moved Bill to second base. Big Swede came to the plate and swung for the fences. Pop-up! Now we had two outs and a runner on second. Johnson came up to bat. On the second pitch, Johnson hit the ball down the first base line, just over the outstretched glove of their first baseman. Bill was being sent home, that was obvious; and then I saw Johnson's bat lying in the base path. I ran out to get the bat, and just as I grabbed it, I felt a collision as Bill ran into me. Their catcher caught the ball and tagged Bill out, two feet from home plate. The game was over, and I had caused the loss. Our side was stunned, and our perfect record was smashed.

Coach was furious and kicked me off the team. He personally escorted me to the locker room and confiscated my uniform, then told me to get the Hell out of there and shower at home. I was still in shock. I wandered out toward the parking lot and sat down under a tree, trying to grasp what had happened. Big mistake. As the team came out of the locker room, several of them saw me there. Led by Bill Parker, they beat the crap out of me. I found out later that Big Swede finally pulled them off of me, before they killed me.

With Big Swede standing over me, the others left me alone. He wouldn't leave me, so it was a while before he got someone to call for an ambulance. I didn't know about this till later, I didn't wake up till I was in the ER. Other than a moderate concussion, the only thing wrong with me was a bunch of bruises. They decided to keep me in the hospital overnight, to make sure the concussion wasn't more serious than it appeared.

When my father came into the room, I knew I was in trouble. He was the ultimate macho man. He had been a three-letter man all through high school, and only a knee injury had kept him from the pros. I honestly believe that he wasn't trying to relive his glory days through me; it's just that the only behavior he understood for a boy was that of a macho jock. I am small and skinny, and always have been. I've never been good at sports, and didn't like most of them – baseball being the exception. He had tried everything he could to make me a man, but I was a total failure.

"What happened?"

"A bunch of the guys beat me up."

"Why?"

I hesitated as long as I could, but my father's piercing glare caused me to crack. "I cost us the game today. Coach kicked me off the team and several of the players jumped me."

My father looked confused, and then he said, "You're the batboy for God's sake. How could you possibly lose the game for the team?"

I told him the sorry tale, and watched as his face grew harder and harder. When I was done, he just stood up and left the room. I overheard him talking with a police officer just outside the room. He said, "No officer, we won't be filling any charges. Boys will be boys and he really isn't hurt." I was crushed. A bunch of kids beat me till I'm unconscious and put me in the hospital, and it's not important enough for him to file charges.

The next day, Mom picked me up from the hospital and took me home. My face was covered with blue and purple blotches, some of them so dark they were almost black. I had some wicked bruises on my arms, but nothing else showed up as long as I wore my normal tee shirt and jeans. I was supposed to take it easy, because of the concussion, and not go back to school until Monday.

My sister Debbie came to see me as soon as she got home from 8^th grade. Although she was two years younger than I am, she was taller, heavier, and stronger. She was the apple of Dad's eye; always winning the competition for his affection. "Hi big brother... I think. Is that really you under all those bruises?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"You really pissed those guys off. Why did you hang around so they could do that to you? That was really stupid. The coach gave you a head start. If you had gone straight home like he told you, they wouldn't have beaten you up. The next day they wouldn't have been so mad."

"I don't know why. I was in shock over what had happened and wasn't thinking."

"Well, you should be OK for school on Monday. Dad didn't press any charges, so you didn't hurt the team. The word I'm getting through Penny from her brother Matt is that most of your attackers are really ashamed at what they did. Eight against one and you're smaller than any of them. Big Swede, the one who saved your life, quit the team rather than play with a bunch of animals. That got everyone talking let me tell you. There is some sort of punishment being planned, but they hadn't said what it would be the last time Penny talked to Matt. She said she would call as soon as she heard anything, and I'll pass it on to you."

"Thanks Debbie. I really appreciate it. I wouldn't even know about no charges being filed, except for the fact that I overheard Dad talking to the cops about it."

Debbie looked at me for a minute, and then said, "Dougie, I've never seen Dad like this before. He didn't say two words from the time he came home last night till I went to bed. He has already punched a huge hole in his study wall, and he makes a lot of noise when he goes out to the garage, banging stuff around. I'd avoid him as much as possible for a while if I were you, like maybe until you graduate."

The phone rang and Debbie went out to get it. She came back about 20 minutes later. "That was Penny. Matt told her that the eight guys that jumped you were all thrown off the baseball team, and Big Swede is back on it. They may not even be able to field a team for the rest of the season, because they only had 16 players to start with. The school board got ahold of it and there is talk of expelling them, banning them from all school activities as long as they are here and keeping the seniors from graduating with the rest of their class."

"Well, that's it. If Dad doesn't kill me, the guys will. I might as well drop out of school right now."

Debbie shook her head and said, "You can't. You have to be sixteen to drop out of school, and that won't happen till after school lets out for the year. You know that. Don't worry, I'm sure you will survive the last month of school, and then you'll have the summer for the rest of them to forget."

"Not if the principal bans the returning kids from all school activities. I'm dead meat."

Mom came in to drop off the homework she had gone to school to get for me. She ran Debbie out of my room so she could do her homework and I started mine. It was easy, like always, and I finished it in next to no time. Debbie came in with a math question and I showed her what she had been doing wrong. She smiled and thanked me, then left to finish. We generally got along just fine when Dad wasn't around.

Dad called and said he was working late. We had a quiet dinner at home, and watched TV until it was time to go to bed. I woke up when Dad finally got home, and heard him tell Mom that he hadn't worked late. He didn't trust himself around me, and had waited to come home until he knew he wouldn't have to see me. I didn't sleep well that night.

Debbie came straight to my room as soon as she got home. What she said sent shivers down my spine. "The school board intervened; they took the decision about what will happen to the guys that beat you up away from the principal. All eight of them have been pulled from their classes and are in a special studyhall all day long. They don't even get to eat lunch with the other kids."

"Oh my God. They and their parents must hate me."

"From what Matt says, they are ashamed of what they did to you, except for Bill Parker. He blames you for everything and tells everyone that this is all your fault."

"Just great. If the school board hears that, they'll throw the book at him and I won't have a chance in Hell when I go back to school."

Just then the phone rang and Debbie ran to get it. She came back a little later, saying "That was Penny. The school board is meeting this Friday to discuss the situation, and it will be an open meeting, anyone can attend. The eight kids have all been banned from going to either Prom, since the Junior Prom is this weekend. Rumor has it that Bill made a death threat against you and was told by a teacher to keep his mouth shut if he didn't want to be expelled."

"Did the rumor mention what teacher signed my death warrant?"

"What do you mean?"

I said, "If that is what he said, he effectively told Bill to keep his plans to himself until I returned to school and he could act on them."

"Penny didn't say, but I'll ask her. I wouldn't worry though; you know how rumors twist the facts, just to make the story sound better." She left to finish her homework so she could go over to Penny's house. Dad didn't show up for dinner again. After Debbie came home, she told me that all Matt had heard was "a teacher".

We went to the living room to watch TV, and the local news was on. They talked about the incident! They didn't name names, but they talked about the brutal savages at our school that had tried to beat the team's batboy to death because he made a mistake. The only thing that redeemed the team was the one brave young man who kept the monsters from killing the poor little boy. I got up and went back to my room. All I could see was my life coming to an end on Monday. I didn't sleep well that night either.

The next day was Friday, and the noon news talked about the school board meeting being held that evening. They said that they would cover it live, so that the community could see how the board dealt with the savages amongst us. They mentioned Columbine and the general rise of school violence across America. They said that it was time to draw the line, before things got out of hand here and someone was killed.

Debbie came home and told me that stories were all over her school and that Matt had told Penny that things were really getting tense. We talked about the situation for a few minutes, and then Debbie asked me if I was going to the meeting. Before I could say a word, Dad spoke from the doorway. "No one from this family will be there. Is that clear?"

We were stunned. Dad never gets home this early and we hadn't heard him come in. We both nodded our heads and he abruptly left. Debbie was shaken. Dad had never used that tone of voice on her before. She quickly left my room to do her homework so she could go out.

Debbie ate over at Penny's house that evening, and would come back late. I was sent to my room right after I did the dishes and was told to stay there until Dad said I could come out. It was plain that he didn't want me to see the school board meeting, but I left the door open and could hear most of it from my room.

It was horrible. A local preacher spoke about how our community had been peaceful before this, and how this was "the crack in the door". Several people asked why the kids weren't in jail, and finally the Sheriff stood up and explained that my father refused to press charges. The way he said it made it sound like my father feared for my life if they had been arrested. Most of the people there wanted the little monsters thrown in jail or expelled, preferably both. One parent even asked if they could be expelled from the entire school district!

It took over three hours for everyone to speak their piece. The board conferred for a few minutes, and then pointedly asked their attorney if the could bring charges against the students themselves, since the act had occurred on school property. He told them that he would feel more comfortable about that after talking with the prosecutor's office, so they deferred that till later. Then they pronounced sentence. Until they heard back from the prosecutor's office, all eight students were to remain in segregated study hall. They would not participate in any school activities. Their parents were told that they could expect their children to be expelled, and that the seniors would not be allowed to graduate with their class.

I shut my door and went to bed, where my lack of sleep caught up to me and I fell right to sleep. I would have traded another sleepless night for the nightmares I had. I saw myself die that night, under the fists of Bill Parker. Not just once, but time after time. My bed was soaking wet when I got up that morning.

After I showered, I stripped the bed and left the mattress to air out. I went into the kitchen to eat breakfast with the family, like we always did on the weekend. As I poured my cereal into my bowl, Debbie said, "Yuck! You've added yellow and green to your facial colors. You're going to need to wear makeup just to go back to school."

Dad stood up and looked like he was going to explode, then he stopped and got a strange look on his face. He just stood there and looked at me for a few seconds, then said, "That's a good idea Debbie." He turned to me and said, "You are an absolute failure as a boy. From now on I have no son, you are my oldest daughter. We will call you Emily."

My mouth opened before my brain could stop it. "No Dad! I'm a boy!"

He backhanded me with almost casual strength, lifting me from my seat and slamming me against the refrigerator. "No back talk Emily!" He turned to mother and said, "Take her back to her room and get her measurements. Then I want you to take Debbie along and go shopping for our eldest daughter. Get her whatever she needs so she can go back to school on Monday, looking her best. After you get her enough stuff to get by, come back here and get her dressed, then take her to get her hair done and shop for the rest of what she needs."

I don't know what else he might have said, because I was dizzy from hitting my head against the refrigerator and I threw up all over myself. Mom cleaned me up and helped me to my room. I had vertigo, probably from the blow to my head aggravating my concussion, and the world spun around me. I was in no shape to do or say anything, so I just lay there with my eyes shut after she left.

By the time that Mom and Debbie came back, I was almost feeling normal. Mom came in and told me to strip. I was numb, so I just did what she said. She slathered Nair all over my body, and then took me to shower it off after what seemed like forever. She told me to wash my hair while I was in there, and to use Debbie's conditioner. By the time I came out, I was squeaky clean.

She took me back to her room and tossed me a pair of panties. I pulled them on then turned around. She told me to do something about my front, so I tucked it back between the legs. Then she pulled out a couple of pink wiggly things, which I figured out were fake breasts. "We'll start you with an "A" cup," as she glued then to my chest. Next she had me wear what she called a padded panty brief and then she showed me how to put on a bra.

She sat me down and started to work on my hair. She put it up on rollers and then squeezed on some kind of gel. She put a hood over my head and turned on the portable dryer I had seen her and Debbie use before. Then she started working on my nails. Once she got them cleaned up, she painted them pink. She did my toes as well. After two coats of the polish, she put a clear coat on them, and then plucked my eyebrows while she waited for them to dry. That hurt, but it wasn't enough to pull me out of my daze.

She turned off the dryer and took off the hood. She brushed my hair out, trimmed it a bit, then told me that she had given me a simple pageboy, and that it would be easy for me to take care of. She then did my makeup. It took a lot to cover all the bruises. She had me put on a pair of low white heals, slipped a yellow dress over my head and zipped me up. Then she walked me to her full-length mirror so I could see myself for the first time.

I was amazed. I almost looked to see where the girl was in the mirror, and then I realized it was me. I was actually pretty. I hated it.

With tears in my eye, I turned to Mom and said, "I don't care what I look like. I'm a boy. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Your father said that things will be this way and that's the way they will be. I could have made you look like a clown, but your only chance of surviving this is to become a girl so well that you will be accepted as such. Anything less than that will probably get you killed. Do you understand me Emily Ann?"

When I heard her give me the middle name, I knew that I had lost. She took me out for the rest of the family to see. Debbie's eyes grew wide as she sucked in her breath. Dad just looked me over and then thanked Mom for a good job. Mom collected Debbie and I and took us to her hair salon. Mom pointed at me and said I needed the works. They washed my hair, again. They cut it, rolled it up and put on smelly chemicals. I was put under the hair dryer and a girl came over and redid my nails. When she was done, they stuck out about a quarter of an inch beyond my fingers, and were painted a darker pink. She was done with me just in time for me to go back to my chair and get my hair styled. The lady fussed with it for a few minutes, then took me into the back where an older lady did my makeup. Unlike my mother, she carefully explained what she was doing, so that I could do it myself. She whispered to me that she had a cousin just like me, and that I might want to check out the Internet on the subject.

When they showed me myself in the mirror I was stunned at how good I looked. My mind had been overloaded since my father had hit me and I almost passed out. Mom and Debbie helped me to the car.

We set off for the mall. First we hit Value Square for day to day stuff, like cotton panties and bras. Next stop was a dance store, where they picked up some leotards and a pair of dance shoes for me. The lady's eyebrows went into orbit when Mom asked for some flesh-colored gaffs in my size. I didn't know what they were, till they took me in the back and had me try one on. I was told to leave it on and Mom bought three more.

The rest of the day was a blur. I tried on hundreds of outfits and dozens of shoes in stores up and down the mall. We went out to the car at least twice to drop off packages. By the time we left, I was exhausted and my feet hurt from walking in heals. We stopped off at the local diner and ate a meal before we went home, so we didn't get back until after 10 o'clock.

Dad had been busy. My room had been gutted and all my things were gone. In their place were pink walls, white lacy curtains and a girl's bedroom set in white. There was even a canopy bed with very feminine bedcovers and matching canopy.

Mom said, "This is very nice dear. How in the world did you get all this done?"

"I rented a truck, loaded it with everything that was in this room and took it to the dump. Then I slapped a quick coat of paint on and went to that store that specializes in kid's furniture. I found a saleslady and told her that I wanted the most feminine bedroom set they had for my daughter's 16^th birthday. She picked everything out, I paid extra to get it delivered today, and then I came home to finish painting. They arrived with the furniture shortly after I had gotten everything cleaned up, and the girl that came with the movers even made the bed for me. I'll get out of your way so that you and Emily can put everything away."

I just stood there, staring at the new room. Everything was gone. All my stuff had been thrown away. My life had been taken from me, as if I had never existed. I finally came out of it and put my new clothes away.

As I was got ready for bed, I heard Mom and Dad talking. Dad wanted to know if I had anything to wear to church tomorrow. Mom told him that I wouldn't be going to church tomorrow; she would need all day to get me ready for school on Monday. Mom never contradicted Dad on anything, but he accepted her decision on this.

Mom came in and woke me just after the sun had come up. She made me do everything to get ready, and then had me take it off and do it again twice. "You need to be able to do this for yourself every morning. I can't keep doing it for you."

When it was lessons about how to walk, gesture, sit and talk like a girl. She talked about all the things I had to know, like feminine hygiene, even if I didn't have to do it myself. I would need to know about this because girls talk about it. She talked to me about boys and how to say no. I didn't need to know how to say anything else! She showed me the basics about cooking, cleaning and sewing, all the while having me walk and sit and get up and move gracefully.

By the time that Dad and Debbie got back from church, I was exhausted. We had lunch together, but nobody said anything. Dad said he was going fishing, and when Debbie asked to go along, Mom told her she needed her here this afternoon.

Mom used Debbie to help me move and act more like the teenage girl I looked like now. We practiced all afternoon. Debbie really started to get into it and even taught me how to fast dance like a girl.

They had me help prepare dinner, then Dad came home and we ate. Right after dinner, Dad went out to the garage. We cleaned up after dinner, and then it was practice, practice, and more practice. By the end of the evening, they both told me I was finally getting it. Mom even said, "If you can remember to do everything we taught you over the weekend, you should be fine tomorrow."

It seemed to take me forever to get ready in the morning. Finally I came out of my room and found my father waiting for me. "It's about time. Get your stuff; you don't have time for breakfast."

We went outside and he told me to get in the car. He drove me to the school and brought me inside to the principal's office. As soon as we were let in, Dad started talking. "Here is the paperwork to change her name from Douglas Martin to Emily Ann. Here is the paperwork indicating that this is the beginning of the one-year test to ensure that the decision to become female is the correct one. Here are some pertinent cases discussing what you are and are not required to do under these circumstances. I think that PE would be a waste with less than a month to go in the school year and would recommend a study hall be substituted, but that is your call. Are there any questions? If not, I'm already late for work."

The principal looked stunned. He finally assured my father that everything would be taken care of. He looked at the thick file on his desk, and then told me to go to class while he figured this all out. Then he stopped me, scribbled something on a piece of paper, then told me to show that to each of my teachers as soon as I saw them, and to come back to see him at lunch.

I walked to my locker and put everything away, then got out what I needed for my first class. I was still in shock. How could my father do this to me? I may not be what he wanted in a son, but I'm still a boy. I saw the paperwork he left with the principal and it all looked very official. Apparently, I didn't have any say in what was happening to me. This is so wrong!

I got to my first class, 5 minutes early. I went in and showed to note to my teacher. She read the note, gasped and looked at me really closely while the color drained from her face. She took out her grade book and handed me back the note. She told me to sit down and started writing in the book. I went to my seat and sat down.

As the class filtered in, I got some looks, but no one questioned me or why I was there. After the bell rang, Mrs. Lincoln stood up and addressed the class. "This is Emily Ann Abbott. She is taking the place of Douglas Martin Abbott." She just stood there for a few seconds, and then with a shake of her head, began teaching the lesson. I actually paid attention to the lesson, since I had been out for several days. I assure you, I was the only one in the class that did so.

After the bell rang to end the class, Mrs. Lincoln asked me to come to her desk. After the rest of the kids filed out, she told me that she had thought this might be what my problem was, and offered to help me any way she could. I went into shock again. She thought I really needed to be a girl. I walked to my next class in a daze, with whispering and pointing going on all around me.

The rest of the morning was like that. The teacher would be shocked, then supportive. The kids treated me like I was toxic. The whispers became louder. I became even more depressed.

I showed up at the principal's office at lunchtime. He told me that he was following my father's suggestion about PE, and that I would have study hall instead. He took me to the office, where they took my picture and gave me a new student ID. Then he told me to go eat my lunch.

I hadn't said a word all day, and I wasn't going to change that now. My stomach was all tied up in knots, so I skipped lunch and went into the library. I sat down with my books and pretended to study, but my mind was not on Algebra II. Two of my teachers had told me that they had expected this, or thought that this might be my problem. The principal just accepted it without question. My Father said it would be so and made it happen. Nobody even asked me about it. My masculinity wasn't even worth a question.

Instead of being in shock, I was just numb. I was worthless. My body went to the rest of my classes, but my mind wasn't there. By the end of the day, I was in a fog.

I went to the library after my last class. I didn't want to see anyone; heck, I didn't even want to think. After about 45 minutes, Bill Parker came in, looked around and then came right over to me. "So, it's true. You're nothing but a little fairy. Well, you owe me big time, and I know just what you can do to pay me back. I used to love it when my girlfriend went down on me. She dumped me because of this, so you can take her place, for that anyway. I'm sure I can think of other things, you little bitch, but that will do for starters."

He had gotten a little too loud and the librarian kicked him out. Made to become a female against my will, and looking forward to a life of degradation and rape, I left the library when it closed and started to go home. Bill had been waiting for me and headed toward me. Just before Bill got to me, I jumped out in front of a city bus that was speeding down the street. I heard the brakes squeal and felt the bus hit me. Excruciating pain shot through my body and I blacked out.

Chapter Two

I saw the light that I've heard about, the one that people see when the die and I headed for it eagerly. Just as I was about to cross over, I felt a jolt of pain and it receded. This happened two more times, and then I lost the light. No matter how much I searched for it, it was gone.

I awoke in a hospital bed, wired up like a science experiment. I felt like a truck had run over me, then chuckled and said, "No silly, it was a bus."

The door opened and a nurse walked in. "Well, it's good to see that you finally decided to join us. How are you feeling?"

I couldn't stop giggling and said, "Like a bus ran over me."

She chuckled for a second, then said "Anything specific?"

"No Ma'am, I just hurt all over."

"OK. You stay right there and I'll get the doctor. She has been very worried about you."

"Like, where am I going to go?" I giggled again. I seem to be doing that a lot now.

The doctor came in a few minutes later. She wanted to know the usual stuff, and poked and prodded me for a few minutes. I actually felt fine, except for that dull ache. Then she said, "I've called your mother to let her know that you finally came out of your coma. Before she gets here, I need to tell you about your condition. We almost lost you, you are lucky to be alive. The surgical team that pulled you through is one of the best, but it was still touch and go. Frankly, the damage wasn't that severe, although you were in critical condition. That, plus the fact that you threw yourself in front of a bus, had us worried that you were suicidal. While this is not standard procedure by any means, we put you on anti-anxiety drugs to keep you calm. That seemed to work, and you got better after that."

"Is that why I feel so good?"

"It shouldn't make you feel good. It should just keep you from feeling depressed."

I said, "Well, I feel better than I've felt in a long time. I'm not even sure that I want to die any more."

"Why did you want to die?"

"The guys on the team hate me for costing them the championship. Bill Parker plans on raping me. I am such a failure as a boy that my Father made me into a girl, even though I never wanted that. Several teachers told me that they knew I would become a girl one day. The kids treat me like I have the plague. My sister was the one that recommendation that I wear makeup, which was what gave Dad the idea to make me a girl. Even though I told Mom that I didn't want to be a girl, she helped Dad do it to me. I am smart and can be fun to be around, but that doesn't mean anything. Do you want me to go on?"

She had turned as white as a sheet and just stared at me with wide eyes. Finally she said, "You never wanted to be a girl? Are you sure?"

"Yes Ma'am, I'm sure. Why would I want to be a girl? I may not be very good at being a boy in my father's eyes, but I was born a boy and I liked it. The training my mother and sister gave me the weekend before I went to school just confirmed it in my mind. The more they taught me about being a girl, the less I wanted to become one. I just hope that Dad will give up on this and let me just be myself once I get out of here. Otherwise, I'll just have to make sure that I get it right the next time."

Now the doctor was starting to look green. She excused herself and hurriedly left the room. The nurse was just looking at me in horror, and then she finally left as well. "I wonder what that was all about." Oh well, naptime.

When I woke up, there was a pretty police officer sitting next to the bed, and her hand was gently shaking me. She said, "Hello. I'm Officer Murphy and I'd like to ask you some questions." She asked me about school, baseball, and about my father, then about the incident and my becoming a girl. We talked for a long time. I told her about my father trying to make me a man and how he used to punish me for being such a wimp. I told her about finally making the team, even if it was only as the batboy, and how proud I was, and sad that father didn't seem to care. I told her about the disastrous game and what had happened after that. How father had decided that I was a failure at being a boy and decided to make me a girl, since that was all I was good for anymore. She looked really grim at that point. I told her about the training that weekend and going to school on Monday. I told her about what Bill said, and that I decided to end it all when I saw him coming for me. Once I wound down, she asked me a few more questions, about my mom and sister, then told me I could go back to sleep. I did.

The next few days were a blur. They told me later that was because they had upped my medicine. I finally started to come back to normal, sort of, and a nice lady came in to see me. "Hello, I'm Miss Anderson. I'm going to be your case worker."

"Hello Miss Anderson. What is a case worker and why do I need one?"

"I work for Social Services. I'm here to represent your interests and to see that your needs are taken care off. Has anyone explained to you why you are here and what has happened to you?"

"No Ma'am. I sort of thought that I was here because a bus ran over me and I'm not healthy enough to go home yet. Could you tell me where my family is? The doctor called my mom to tell her I was awake, but I haven't seen any of them yet. Have I just been asleep when they came by?"

Miss Anderson looked really sad, and then she said, "You will probably never see your folks again. They are both in jail, facing a long list of child abuse charges. Your sister is living with your Aunt Muriel out in Iowa, so it may be quite a while till you see her either. You are a ward of the State and I'm in charge of your case until you turn eighteen."

"Maybe you should start at the beginning; I don't understand this at all."

"All right. After the bus hit you, you were taken to the ER. The damage was extensive, but the most important thing for you to know is that your penis and testicles were damaged. When your father was informed, he showed them the paperwork entering you into your one-year real-life test, to see if you were a good candidate for sexual reassignment. He told them that because of the damage, they might as well go ahead and make you a girl. They operated on you after you had stabilized. Your male organs are gone, and you have an artificial vagina. Your hormones are that of a girl entering puberty and you were given an implant of slow release hormones to stabilize you at the higher level. Like it or not, you are now a girl."

I just shut my eyes for a moment, and then said, "Anything else?"

"Not really. You are recovering nicely from your injuries and the doctors are sure that you will have a minimum of scarring. That covers your physical state, but it is your mental state that has everyone worried."

"I can see why. Since I have nothing to live for, they are afraid that I'll kill myself. They're right. I don't know why I'm telling you this though."

She looked thoughtful, then said, "You have been given some drugs to relax you and let you go with the flow, as it were. I don't think it is supposed to act like a truth serum. Maybe you don't care enough to lie."

"That makes sense. I have no family now and my whole life has been taken from me. I can see no reason to live, except that the doctors won't let me die. When you all get it figured out, let me know will you. Until then, just let me sleep." With that, I just shut my eyes and waited until she left.

I couldn't sleep, but I could daydream. I became a superhero in my mind, destroying those who had hurt me. I was trying to determine just how to best punish Debbie, when I was shaken awake again. This time, an older man in a rumpled suit was standing there. He said, "I'm Dr. Giles, your psychiatrist. We need to talk."

He sat down next to me and said, "I understand you want to kill yourself. Could you explain why you need to do this?"

"I'll try, but it won't mean anything in the end. No matter what, you and your colleagues won't let me die. You'll keep me chained to this bed, unable to truly live, rather than let me die. I may be drugged out of my skull, but I'm not a fool. Unable to control what I'm saying, yes, but not a fool."

"Why don't you tell me anyway?"

"Sure, why not. I'm no longer a boy and I refuse to be a girl. That about sums it up. I suppose that with enough drugs and mind games, you might make me accept being a girl. Morally that would put you on the same level as my father, about two steps below Hitler. I don't want to be "cured" and I have nothing to live for. Why don't you all go away and just let me die?"

"Because we can't. You know that."

"Please leave me alone. The only doctor I want to see is named Kevorkian." I shut my eyes and waited until he left. I went back to my daydreams.

A couple of days went by. Every time someone came to talk with me, I tuned them out. If they became insistent or physical, I would look at them until they went away, but I refused to talk with them. Then they tried to tell me what a rewarding life I had before me. I finally asked one of the psychologists if he would trade places with me. He looked startled, then said he wouldn't mind it at all. I told him to come back after he had his sex change and we'd talk. They brought in a couple of involuntary transsexuals to try and explain that there was life after a sex change. I told them I was happy for them, but it wasn't for me.

I finally asked when my parents were going on trial. That was when they told me that they had signed a plea bargain. They were sentenced to ten years in prison, and then the sentence was suspended as long as they completely paid all of Debbie's and my expenses, until we graduated from college. They were stripped of their parental rights and were forbidden to contact us.

I asked, "No jail time?"

"None, except for time served. The judge did this so that they could continue to provide for you and your sister."

I said, "Well that changes things. Before I die I want to kill the judge and everyone else responsible for this abortion of justice, then kill my father. Then I can die."

Apparently that wasn't considered an improvement. They quit bugging me for a while, and I went back to my dream world. Then Angelina Mackenzie entered my life.

She burst into my room like a tornado, exuding energy with every movement. I watched her with some fascination; she was quite unlike the others that had come to cure me. The first thing she said was "Why is she strapped down and hooked up to all those machines?"

While the others dithered, I said, "I'm strapped down so I can't kill myself. I've been told that I'm physically OK, so the machines must be there to inflate my hospital bill. As long as my father has to pay for it, I approve."

She turned to look at me while I was saying that. After I stopped she said, "Well, at least there is one person with some sense around here. Get all that stuff off of her, clean her up and escort her to my office." She looked at me and said, "You and I have a lot to talk about young lady, probably starting with the young lady part. I'll see you in about an hour, hopefully."

Suddenly, several people started to work on me. They took off all the wiring and unstrapped me from the bed. I was so weak that they had to carry me to the tub and give me the bath I so obviously needed. They washed my hair and put panties and a nightgown on me, then they loaded me into a wheelchair and rolled me to her office. There didn't seem to be much of a personal nature there, so I figured that she was just borrowing it.

"I've come to take you to my sanitarium, and try to give you the will to live again. I've read up on your case and I believe that I can help you. We will be leaving shortly and they can have this office back. Before we go, I would like you to tell me why you want to die."

"I am a boy. My father literally threw away my life as a boy, as if I had never existed, then had them turn me into a girl. I refuse to be a girl. Death is the only option that remains."

"I assure you that girls can have fun, have meaningful lives, and do just about anything a boy can do."

I held my hand up to interrupt her and said, "That is fine, and I believe you. There may even be a lot of boys that want to become girls and do that. I don't want to. Like I told the first doctor, you might be able to brainwash me to change, with treatments I can't even imagine. That would make you the moral equivalent of my father, because you would be making me into something I don't want to be. You may congratulate yourself on saving my life, but you will always know that somewhere, deep inside me, there is a boy you warped to fit the role you decided I needed to fill, and he hates you."

"Never the less, I am going to try. I promise that I'll only give you drugs you need to stay healthy. You will be on the medications they put you on in the hospital for about a week while we wean your body off of them. I don't believe that you can heal while you are on those drugs anyway; they just keep you from feeling your pain and dealing with it. I will be carefully monitoring your hormone levels, to ensure that you don't undergo any sudden changes. That would be bad for you as well. For the next couple of weeks, I plan on getting you back into shape and letting you see what the new normal is. That and talking is all that I'm planning for now."

The phone rang and she picked it up. After listening for a few seconds, she said goodbye and hung up. "That was the driver. We can go now."

She pushed my wheelchair down the corridor and into the elevator. We went down to the first floor where she pushed me out the front door and the driver loaded me into a limo. I laughed and said, "Nice car. I was expecting an ambulance."

As soon as we were aboard and strapped in, the driver took off. We didn't talk much during the trip. The gate to her nut house opened as we approached, and the driver stopped at the entrance to a huge mansion. A large man dressed all in white was waiting for us with a wheelchair, and he transferred me into it effortlessly. Ms. Mackenzie pushed me through the front doors and into the elevator. It went up one floor and the doors opened, showing hallways to the left and right. She turned to the right and pushed me down the wide hallway till we stopped at door number eight. She opened it up and pushed me in.

The room was nice, with its own bathroom. She showed me the clothes in the closets and the dresser. "Both boys and girls wear jeans and tee-shirts, tennis shoes and white socks. That is what most of the clothing consists of. There is also some more girlie stuff, if you ever change your mind. The underwear is boxer shorts or panties, because jockey short won't fit you properly any more. There are some bras because you will need them soon enough, so you might want to get used to them now. There is a basic set of cosmetics on the vanity, should you ever decide to use any. Let's go to lunch, and then I'll introduce you to your physical therapist."

Lunch consisted of one of the best sandwiches I have ever had, plus some really good fries. I looked at the others in the dining room. They ranged from kids my age to old people. Almost everyone seemed normal to me, so I asked her where the patients were. She told me that most of them were patients, and that only the truly bad cases didn't eat with the others. That's when I realized that all the food was stuff you could eat with your hands.

After lunch, she dropped me off with one of the largest men I have ever seen. With a gentle voice, he told me that he was Howard and that he would be my therapist. He asked me my name and I told him I was Doug, but if he felt better about it he could call me Emily. He called me Doug and started me on a bunch of exercises. It was all pretty simple stuff, but boy did it take it out of me. At the end of the session, he told me that I should be back to normal quickly, if I kept working as hard as I had today. He gave me a massage and sent me on my way.

I didn't know my way around, so I asked the attendant pushing my chair if they had a map so I could figure out where everything was. She took me to the entrance and pointed out the map on the wall, so I started studying it. That is where Ms. Mackenzie found me.

"Plotting your escape so soon? Was Howard that rough on you?"

"No Ma'am. I'm just trying to figure out where everything is."

She pointed everything out to me, including some things that weren't shown on the map like where her rooms were. I was most interested in where the library was, and the TV room so I could catch the baseball games when they came on.

I was wheeled into the library and just spent some time looking around, trying to get the feel of the place. Every library is different and I wanted to understand this one, what was where and what types of books they had. There was a good selection of books on medicine and psychiatry of course, but there were also books on history and some contemporary fiction. I pulled down a biography of Tamerlane, by Harold Lamb, and quickly became engrossed.

Ms. Mackenzie found me there when she wanted me to get ready for dinner. I asked her if I could take the book with me and she said that I could. She helped me back to my room so I could get cleaned up, then rolled me to the dining room. The menu for tonight was Chinese and I had something called General Tso's Chicken. I thought Mexican food was spicy! After I got used to the fire in my mouth, it tasted great. The tableware was all plastic, and still I caught Ms. Mackenzie staring at me whenever I used the fork. Finally, I just laughed at her, telling her that after I had failed the first time, was wasn't going to depend on a flimsy plastic fork for my second suicide attempt. She gave me a wounded look, but seemed to relax after that.

After dinner, she rolled me out through the back doors and into the garden they had back there. The walls were very high, but I knew that I could climb them once I was back to being myself. Mostly, the area was relaxing. She wheeled me to the fountain and sat down on the edge. I guessed that it was time for one of those little talks, and I was right.

"I have thought about what you said, and I still can't accept it. What is wrong with being female?"

"There is nothing wrong with being female, if you are born that way. It is even fine if you were born male, but want to be female. I was born a male and, no matter how bad I might have been at it, that is all I ever wanted to be. Girls turn me on, boys don't. I like doing boy stuff, not girl stuff. I understand and get along with boys; girls are a complete mystery to me. I could go on and on, but what's the use. I'm a boy, my dad turned me into a girl, and now there is no place left for me."

"What do you like to be called?"

"Doug."

"All right Doug, I want you to quit concentrating on the negative. Don't look at what you can't be, try to find out what you can. What do you like to do?"

"Read, watch baseball on TV, play games on my computer, stuff like that."

"Then do that."

"I can't play baseball as a girl."

"What did I say about negative things? Besides, from what I understand, you couldn't play baseball as a boy either. Look Doug, you have this all wrong. If you want to act like a male, just do so. Nobody is stopping you. You'll never have a penis and you won't be able to get a girl pregnant, but you can still be a boy if that is what you want."

"How can I meet a girl, let alone be a father and a husband?"

"Truth time. How many girls have you dated? None right? Because of what has happened, you can't make a girl pregnant. That doesn't mean that you can't be whatever you want to be, but there will be things you can't do. Because of how you are shaped, if you marry a woman it will have to be a lesbian relationship in bed, but you can be her husband and the father of whatever children she has or the two of you adopt. I want you to think about that, and we'll talk again later."

She wheeled me to my bedroom and helped me get ready for bed, then shut and locked the door. I had a lot to think about, but I needed to sleep on what she had said so I could get it straight in my mind. I read some more about Tamerlane until I got sleepy, then I rolled over and went to sleep.

That night I dreamed a lot. Sometimes I was a boy or a man, dealing with my secret. Sometimes I was a girl or a woman, trying to understand what that meant. Once I was dead, and all I could see was my father laughing at me for being such a loser, letting him win without a fight. My father figured into several of my other dreams as well, smug with his victory when I was a girl, and disappointed in my failures when I was a boy.

Ms. Mackenzie didn't come by until about 9 o'clock. By then I had crawled to the bathroom and taken care of business, then got dressed. She asked if I had bathed and I told her no. She helped me strip down and go back in the bathroom. She proceeded to give me a no-nonsense lecture about my new body, and what I needed to do to keep it healthy. Then she talked to me about dilation. She said that I needed to do it at least twice a day for several months, and was surprised that nobody had talked to me about it before. Boy was that an eye-opener!

Once she was satisfied that I was ready, we went for brunch. She asked me if I wanted to talk about anything concerning what we discussed last evening, and I told her no, that I was still trying to get it all straight in my mind. She smiled and told me to take my time, then dropped me off early with Howard.

He had me do a lot of stretches, since my body had tightened up lying strapped down in bed for such a long time. Then he had me doing weight work, with weights under 5 pounds. I told him that even I didn't think I was that puny, but he explained that this wasn't weight training, he was trying to tone up my muscles. "Tomorrow, we will work on bulking you up, to help you get your muscle mass back. Even then, we won't be using the one-ton weights for a while. The program I'm putting you through will alternate bulking with toning. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

I looked all around the room. When he wanted to know what I was looking for, I told him I was looking for Igor, his evil assistant. He got a laugh out of that, and we finished for the day. I went back to the room to clean up, and to perform my second dilation. Then I thought about what Ms. Mackenzie had said to me yesterday.

I still hadn't sorted it all out by the time that she swung by to take me to dinner. I was very quiet while I was with her, and she took me to my room without comment. She helped me get undressed again and I went to bed.

I had even more strange dreams that night. I decided to be a man and lived a lonely life. I became a woman, got married, and had the whole white-picket fence experience. I found Dad and slowly tortured him to death. I really enjoyed the last one.

I slept in late again and had the attendant take me straight to Howard's office. He ran me through a series of much heavier weights, to help build muscle mass. After he was done, I went back to my room and cleaned up; doing all the things I had skipped. I was so exhausted; I had to have the attendant help me.

When the attendant took me down to lunch, Ms. Mackenzie asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was still thinking about what she had said. She told me we would talk after lunch.

Ms. Mackenzie wheeled me into the garden, then said, "Doug, while you are thinking about what we talked about yesterday, I would like you to do something for me."

"What would that be?"

"I want you to have fun. Get out of your room and meet some of our other guests. Watch TV, play some games or maybe just sit and talk. You don't have to be a boy or a girl to do that, both sexes enjoy those sorts of things."

I smiled and said, "OK. I'll succumb to your sneaky trick. I'll try to have some fun."

"Thank you. I have found that active, happy people rarely kill themselves." With that statement she walked off.

I had the attendant push me into the TV room, to see if there was a game on today. While I was looking over the programming guide from last Sunday's paper, a girl came over to me and said, "Hi, I'm Shelly. You're new here aren't you? I can't tell, are you a boy or a girl?"

I looked over at her and said, "I was born a boy named Doug, but my father decided that I was a failure at it, so he made me a girl named Emily. I'm not a boy anymore, but I not really a girl either. Call me Doug."

She looked at me for a few moments then said, "I thought that you were different. Would you like to play a game of Sorry with me?"

"That sounds like fun."

As we sat there, playing the game, she told me about herself and I told her my story. Her father and her brother had abused her for years. She told me that she was afraid of men, but since I wasn't really a man, I didn't scare her. She said that she was real sorry that my daddy had done such a horrible thing to me. She thought that what he had done to me was worse than what her daddy had done to her.

"I'm in here to learn how to deal with men, so I can have a normal life. I can't let my daddy win, and you can't let your daddy win either. If you'll be my friend and help me stop being afraid of men, I'll try to help you want to live again."

"I don't know what you can do for me, but I'm glad to do what I can to help you."

We talked and played games until it was time for dinner. She put the games away, and then wheeled me to the dinning room to eat. Ms. Mackenzie intercepted us and told her to push me to the table we normally ate at. Shelly did that and sat down beside me. Ms. Mackenzie asked what we had been doing this afternoon, and her eyes got wide when Shelly said, "Doug and I talked and played several games of Sorry. I like him and I think we will be friends."

After dinner, I wanted to watch the ball game. Shelly said, "Just like a boy. Sports, sports, and more sports. I'm going to my room to listen to my music. I'll see you in the morning."

After we all said goodnight, Shelly left for her room and Ms. Mackenzie said, "I am amazed. Do you realize that you are the first boy she has talked with since she came here?"

"Yes, Ma'am. She told me her story."

She acted like she wanted to say something, but she just shook her head and left. The game started and it quickly captured my attention. It was a good game, with the lead changed hands several times. By the time it was over, in the tenth inning, I was exhausted and struggled to leave the TV room. One of the attendants noticed my plight, wheeled me to my room and helped me go to bed.

I had breakfast with Shelly the next morning, and we got along just fine. She told me that she wanted to become a nurse when she grew older, so she could help people like us. I told her that there were other jobs that would let her do that, and some of them might let her help even more. She wanted to know what I was talking about, so I had her push me to the library. I had to bring back my book anyway.

I put the book I borrowed back on the shelf, and then went to the card catalog. We searched through it for books on medical careers and we found one that looked good. I told her that I had to go see Howard for my physical therapy and that would give her a chance to look at the book.

Today we worked on toning my muscles, and we kept at it longer than we did before. After I was done, he had an attendant wheel me to my room and help me clean up. After I was done, I rejoined Shelly in the library. She was engrossed in the book, but it was time for lunch, so I had her mark her place and come eat. All during lunch she talked about the different careers in the book, and she hadn't even got to psychiatrist, psychologist or therapist yet. When I told her about those careers, it was all I could do to get her to finish her lunch.

Just as we were finishing up, an older girl came over and said, "Hi Shelly. Who's your new friend?"

Shelly's face lit up with a smile and she rattled off, "Rachel, you're back! When did you get in? How are you doing? How is your therapy coming?"

Rachel laughed and said, "Whoa girl! Slow down, you're going to blow a gasket. I just got in, I'm doing OK, and my therapy… well, let's just say that I'm progressing. Now, if you please, answer my question. Who is your friend?"

"Rachel, meet Doug. Doug, this is my friend Rachel. Why don't the two of you get to know each other, I've got to get back to this book Doug showed me."

Rachel looked at the book and said, "Careers in Medicine. I can see how that would be a real page-turner. Not!"

"Oh Rachel, I want to see what I'm going to be when I grow up. You two have fun now," and she ran off to the library.

Rachel turned to me and said, "Doug?"

I said, "Yeah. Come out to the garden and I'll tell you my story. Then you'll understand."

I tried to wheel myself off, but she was pushing me after just a few feet. She pushed me over to the lilac bushes and then set on the bench next to them. I told her my story and she understood how Shelly was able to deal with me.

"My story isn't as bad as yours, but I nearly died as well. My father is a very successful businessman and we've always done well financially. My mother was an up and coming lawyer when she had me. She quit all that to be a stay at home mom and I think that was what made her the way she is. Since she had given up everything up to be there for me, my successes became her successes. Dad pushed me to excel, but nothing less than perfection was acceptable to my mother. When my brother came along several years later my dad eased up on me, but my mom never lowered her expectations at all. I finally snapped under all the pressure and started drinking, then doing drugs. My life really went to Hell, but I just didn't care any more. I overdosed in school and they barely saved my life. My mom had to be hauled away from my bedside before she hurt me, screaming at me for being a failure. The whole family has been in therapy ever since. I keep trying to go back home, but my psychiatrist keeps sending me back here. He tells me that neither I nor my mother can handle it yet, and I'm beginning to think we never will."

We sat there for a while, just talking. When it was nearly time for dinner, I had the attendant wheel me back to my room for my second dilation. I went back downstairs and looked in the library. Sure enough, Shelly still had her nose stuck in that book.

"Hey Shelly, it's dinner time!"

Everybody looked at me like I'd just killed Bambi. Apparently, shouting in the library is a no-no. Shelly stopped reading, marked her place and pushed me to the dining room, so at least it worked. She gave me that, "Just like a boy," line again.

When we got to the dinning room, we saw that Rachel had saved us a seat, so we went over and Shelly sat down. Ms. Mackenzie came by while we were eating and asked us how we were doing. We told her that we were doing fine, then started gabbing again as soon as she went to another table. I just caught a hint of a smile as she turned away, but it didn't bother me.

Chapter Three

Things went on like that for three weeks, and then Howard took away my wheelchair, saying that I didn't need it anymore. He gave me a cane to use for the next few days, but after that, I should be able to walk by myself. Sure enough, he was right. I joined the aerobics class to get my body in better shape. I grew stronger in my legs and my endurance increased, but I was still awfully weak in my upper body.

Harold explained that the hormones were hindering my upper body development. Building up my upper body will take longer than if I was still chemically male. I would be able to become stronger, but I would never be buff like a man can be. Thanks a lot Dad.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, Ms. Mackenzie and I talked a lot. I still hated what my father had done to me, but I began to think I could live with it. I still wanted him dead, but now I started to care about not getting caught.

I could see some real changes in my friends as well. Shelly was now talking with other boys, although she said she still preferred me. Rachel was offered a chance to go home, but she turned it down. She had finally come to realize that she couldn't live with her mother anymore. She asked to be placed in a foster home, and boy, did that cause a stink.

Her father appeared in the lobby, and wanted to see Rachel, right now. He made quite a scene, and that was before she appeared. He yelled at her for tearing the family apart, and after she was taken away, he wanted to know who had put all these crazy ideas into her head. He yelled at Ms. Mackenzie for several minutes, then told her he was taking his daughter out of this place, right now. Boy was he pissed when she told him no, he wasn't taking Rachel anywhere, and then told him to leave. He almost looked like he was going to hit her, but he left after looking at the large men in white that were standing next to him. Two hours later, he was back with police to spring his daughter from her kidnappers. If he was pissed off before, it wasn't anything to how mad he was when she showed him the papers giving her full custodial rights to Rachel. He left, vowing that she had not heard the last of him, and I heard Ms. Mackenzie say softly, "No, I don't suppose I have."

Rachel was glad that everything turned out peacefully, but she was really sad about her family and shaken about her father's actions. Shelly and I tried to comfort her all afternoon, but I think she started smiling just to make us happy.

We never did find out what happened with Rachel's father after that. School was getting ready to start and Rachel left to enter a foster home. The last day she was with us she said, "Doug, you have to face facts. Your body is too feminine to pass as a boy anymore. You have breasts now and, with your hips, they give you a girl's figure. You need to acknowledge that and take a girl's name. You can be a tomboy or a lesbian if you want to be, keep your hair in a ponytail or cut it short, wear nothing but jeans and wear no makeup, but you can't be a boy any longer. You're giving out mixed signals, and that could get you killed."

I thought about what she said, then went up to my room. I looked in the mirror and saw what she meant. Without any makeup, my hair in a boy's ponytail and wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and tennis shoes, I looked like a girl. Taking off my clothes just made it worse.

My breasts were bothering me, like always, and I realized that Ms. Mackenzie was right. I needed a bra, so I put one on. That one was too small, so I kept trying on bras until I found one that fit. My breasts thanked me, but I looked even more like a girl than before. I put on a tee shirt, instead of the sweatshirt I had been wearing and my appearance all but screamed girl. I was depressed.

I went back downstairs and walked back over to Shelly and Rachel. Shelly gasped, but Rachel just said, "See what I mean?"

I nodded my head and Rachel wanted to know what my girl name was. I told her that my parents had renamed me Emily Ann. She said, "But what do you want to be called?"

"Other than Doug, I don't know."

They decided to help me. I was glad that Rachel was there, every name that Shelly came up with was terminally girlie and ended in an A. I finally settled on Bethany Lynn, and told everyone to call me Beth. I went to see Ms. Mackenzie, and after a short wait, told her what I had decided. She smiled and said that she would have the paperwork on her desk by tomorrow, unless her lawyer couldn't get to it that soon. Then she wanted to know if I wanted to change my last name as well, but I told her no. Abbott was a fairly common name and I was used to it.

The paperwork was ready the next afternoon. It not only included the paperwork to change my name, but also the paperwork to change my gender to female. Ms. Mackenzie made sure that I knew what each one was, so I wasn't tricked into anything. After thinking about it for a few moments, I realized Rachel was right and signed both documents.

Ms. Mackenzie felt that I had turned a corner and was starting to get better. I just thought that I was going with the flow and not fighting the inevitable anymore. I still wasn't certain that I wanted to live after I killed my father, but I was willing to accept the possibility now.

Ms. Mackenzie came over to talk with me some more the next morning and noticed me reading a very advanced book on toxicology. She said, "I thought that you were past wanting to die."

"Mostly, I am."

"Then why are you reading that?"

I said, "My father ripped my manhood out of me, because he was embarrassed that I was his son. All the courts did was keep him in jail for a few weeks then set him free. The only justice in this world is what you make yourself. I'm going to kill him. Since I will be the prime suspect, no matter how he dies, I have to make it perfect. I want everyone to know I did it, I just don't want them to be able to prove it in court. I still want the life of the judge as well, plus the prosecutor and anyone else that was responsible for this abortion of justice. After that, if I die, at least I can die in peace."

Ms. Mackenzie wasn't thrilled to hear that. She asked me to give her the book, so I handed it to her, and pointed out several more that she might want to hide. When she asked my why I did that, I explained, "I can't do anything while I am in here. After I get out, I can access all the books I need, anytime I want."

She seemed shaken at how calm I was about this. She told me that I would be staying here until I convinced her that I had given up this foolish plan. I said, "That makes sense. Imprison me for life to protect the criminal that was allowed to go free. Do you enjoy helping others to destroy my life, or do you do it only because it's your duty?" She just shook her head and walked off.

Shelly came over and wanted to know what had happened, so I told her. She was sad for both Ms. Mackenzie and me, but I told her not to worry. "After my father isn't required to pay for my imprisonment, they will convince themselves that I am healthy enough to release. With nobody paying for me to be here, I'll be too expensive to be sick any longer."

"But what about me? My family is all in jail. They aren't paying for me to be here."

"I'll bet that they sold off everything your father owned, and are using those funds to pay for your stay here. Don't worry; you've gotten a lot better in the last few weeks. I expect that you'll be in a foster home soon, starting your life back up."

"Do you really think so?"

"Sure I do. Remember yesterday when Jason scared you? You didn't run away or curl up into a little ball; you smacked him on the arm and told him to never do that again. I'd say you were mostly cured, wouldn't you?"

Her eyes got really wide and she said, "You're right, I wasn't really afraid, just startled and annoyed. I'm cured."

She was all smiles, until I brought her back down to earth when I asked her if she was ready to start dating. She thought about it and said no, but she didn't freak out. I told her that it would take time, but that I thought that she would find the right guy one day and be happy. She said that she thought she would too, and then she started talking about her favorite teen idols. Yeah, she's getting better.

Ms. Mackenzie spent a lot of time with me over the next few days, working with me to remove my need for revenge. That stopped when I asked her, "Do you really think that justice was served in my case? Since we both know that it wasn't, why haven't the judge and the prosecutor been punished over this? Their only motivation seems to be a desire to save the city money by getting my father to pay for everything. When you can answer those sorts of questions to my satisfaction I'll reconsider my need for revenge."

I had her there, and she knew it. She understood that all her talk about revenge hurting me more than the ones I hated was meaningless, until I felt that justice had been served. She promised to get back to me.

Since Shelly was going to be leaving soon and Rachel was already gone, I started to widen my circle of friends. Old Bill and I would talk baseball for hours. He might have Alzheimer's, but he remembered all the games of his childhood like they happened yesterday. John was manic-depressive, but he taught me to play a mean game of chess. When Muriel left, I was invited into the ladies bridge group. We gossiped more than we played, but I enjoyed being with them. Then there was Charlie. He mostly sat in his chair and didn't say much, but I liked to sit with him and talk. I know that he liked our talks as much as I did, because he always smiled when I was there.

I was starting to become buff, for a girl, and asked if there was somewhere I could run. I hated the treadmill and I knew that some of the others went for daily runs. Ms. Mackenzie wasn't thrilled, but I promised her that I wouldn't run away or kill anybody, so she let me go with the others. We ran around a fenced track, but it was a lot better than watching the wall while I "jogged" on a machine.

One of the ladies I ran with mentioned Yoga and Tai Chi to me, so I joined her in both classes. My free time was being eaten up with my workouts and my schoolwork. I had to limit my visits with Bill, John and the Bridge group to the weekends and holidays. I still talked to Charlie every day during my meals, and Shelly joined us till she was released to her new foster parents.

Ms. Mackenzie called me into her office and told me that she had tried, but there wasn't anything the grand jury could indict them on. She was spreading the word on what they had done, and didn't expect them to be reelected, but that was all she could do. I thanked her for trying, but she still seemed unhappy.

Academically, I just gobbled up everything they threw at me in math and science, as fast as they would let me go. I was doing OK in the other stuff, but I heard the instructor tell Ms. Mackenzie that I was doing college level work in Trigonometry, Biology and Chemistry. The next day, I asked her if I could take my GED, so that I could start college in the spring and she said no. She explained that I could continue my schooling as long as I was here. I could learn as much as I wanted to, as fast as I could, but she didn't trust me enough to allow me to go to college.

She said, "I feel like I am failing you. I understand why you are angry, but I can't let you leave here while the fires of revenge burn so brightly in your heart."

"That was really pretty, can I use it?"

She looked puzzled and said, "What are you talking about?"

"'The fires of revenge burning brightly in my heart'. I really liked that."

She said, "Oh you… Yes, you can use that. I just wish there was something I could do, but your father is covered under double jeopardy and can't be tried again."

"This is just wrong; why didn't I have any say in what happened to me? How could my father just decide I was going to be a girl without my agreement, or without me even seeing a doctor first?"

"He couldn't do that. It doesn't work that way."

"He did."

She got a far-away look in her eyes, then said that she would get back to me on this. I shrugged and went to work on my math. I was behind on my homework because of the meeting.

A couple of days later, she called me into her office. She introduced me to Mr. Farnsworth, a private detective. He pulled out a bunch of documents and asked me if I had ever seen them before. I told him that they looked like the ones my father had given the principal, but I couldn't say for sure. He asked me if the signatures on the documents were mine and I told him no, I had never signed anything like that. He asked me if I could prove that I hadn't signed them and I said no, but those signatures didn't look like mine at all. I told him that he could compare them to the stuff that I had signed at school, like my class work and the paperwork the district needed before I could try out for sports. I had even signed one of those 'I won't do drugs" pledges. He thanked me and left.

A couple of days later, Mr. Farnsworth came back and said that three handwriting experts guaranteed that the signatures on the documents weren't mine. A blind comparison between my handwriting, the signatures and my father's handwriting had clearly shown that he had signed them, not me. Ms. Mackenzie now said that we had enough evidence to go before the grand jury to get my father charged with forgery. They wanted to wait a while, so that they could nail everything down and see if they could find more charges to add. Ms. Mackenzie also planned to get the case heard at the state level, considering how poorly the city had served me.

He told me that they were looking at the doctor that signed the paperwork, and the lawyer that had prepared it. "We should be able to get the doctor charged, and probably get his license revoked. It will be harder to do something to the lawyer, but we can lean on the notary who endorsed the documents."

I had been looking into some famous cases and I asked them if my father could be charged under the federal statute that was used to retry the policemen who beat Rodney King. I said that if a beating could be considered depriving someone of their civil rights, wouldn't stealing someone's life count as well? Even if I was white?

Neither one of them knew the answer to that one, but she said would look into it. She told me that the longer she looked into this, the angrier she got. I asked her if they had looked into any cases similar to mine, involving the judge and/or the prosecutor. She said no. Then I asked her why I hadn't be represented at the trial, and she didn't know that either. She was looking mighty grim when I left.

I was now wearing girl's underwear because the boy's stuff just didn't fit right. I still wear tennis shoes and sport socks. I don't wear skirts or dresses, just jeans and tee shirts. I refused to wear makeup or jewelry, and the holes in my ears had closed up. I asked them to cut my hair a lot shorter so it would be easier to take care of, and they finally agreed, although it was still a girl's cut. Even with all that, I still looked like a girl, so I stayed with the name Beth. Ms. Mackenzie asked me to dress more like a girl, so I would fit in a little better. She didn't bring it up again after I told her that I thought I looked like most of the other lesbians I had seen.

Ms. Mackenzie called me into her office and told me that my father had been charged with forgery, conspiracy and making false statements. The State Bar Association was looking into several cases, including mine, involving the judge and the prosecutor. They turned them over to the ethics board for review. She was working with the Democratic Party to find good people to run against the two of them in the fall election, and was pretty sure they had found a couple of winners.

The doctor caved under pressure from the Attorney General's office. He pled to a lessor charge and would testify at my father's trial. The state licensing board was reviewing his case, and it looked like he would lose his license to practice medicine in this state.

The notary also traded the truth and testimony against the lawyer for a lessor charge. The lawyer was fighting the charges tooth and nail, but Mr. Farnsworth said that we had him dead to rights.

Ms. Mackenzie wrote editorials to the paper about what had happened to me, and on a slow day they published one of her best. That started a firestorm in the editorial pages, so the paper looked into the case and published an in-depth report on what had happened. The community became outraged over this, and there was talk about a top to bottom house cleaning, starting with the DA's office, then the judges and the schools.

The TV stations picked it up next, starting with the one that aired the meeting about the boys that beat me. The principal was roundly criticized for not asking me if this is what I wanted when my father dropped me and the paperwork off at his office. There were impassioned calls for his ouster. The mayor was contacted by 60 Minutes. They wanted to do a story about me and about how I had been treated by the city.

The mayor was on TV that evening. He promised to get to the bottom of this and clean house the way the voters wanted. He set up a commission to look into the matter, headed by the preacher who had spoken at the town meeting about my attackers. They were to take the information that had been reported, and recommend procedural changes and appropriate disciplinary measures to be meted out to those responsible.

Over the next couple of months, the little drama unfolded. Other issues drove the story off the front pages, but there was enough interest to keep it alive. Like I said, the community was angry about this. The mayor, an astute politician if there ever was one, made sure that there were plenty of scapegoats to fry. They even got rid of some of the people responsible, like the principal. The 60 Minutes piece, while very critical of the city's bureaucrats in general, praised the mayor's clean up. I never got to speak to the 60 Minutes people, darn it.

During all of this, the trials for the boys who beat me were held. Most of them accepted plea bargains and went to juvenile hall till they were 21. Bill Parker's family hired some hot-shot lawyer to defend him, since he was being tried as an adult because he was the leader in the attack and was blamed for initiating my suicide attempt. They asked for a change in venue, because of all the publicity, and that was granted. This backfired on them when the prosecutors responded that they had expected this. They had everything arraigned to transfer the case to a smaller county upstate, with an open space on their docket reserved for this case. The case was heard almost immediately, and the jury found him guilty, with special circumstances, so he won't even be eligible for parole for 16 years.

When my father's trial was scheduled, I told Ms. Mackenzie that I needed to be there, to watch the proceedings from the beginning to the end. She said "No," and I just walked off. I used the phone in the library to call the local ACLU office, and ask if they would represent my right to be at the trial. They asked me some questions, and then told me they would call Ms. Mackenzie.

She was not happy, but after talking with me for a couple of hours, finally conceded that I had the right to be there. She told me that I would be accompanied by one of the attendants every day, but I could go. I thanked her for finally seeing things my way, and promised not to kill my father in the courtroom.

I was there from the beginning of the actual trial, since they wouldn't let me attend the jury selection. Every day I was dressed like a boy, but in such a way that almost screamed girl. I spent a lot of the dead time staring at my father, my hatred of him very evident (I practiced the look in front of the mirror every night).

The prosecutor called me to the stand as one of his last witnesses. That surprised me, because nobody mentioned anything about it before hand. After I was sworn in, he showed me the documents that I had supposedly signed, then asked me if that was my signature. I told him that it wasn't. Then he asked me if I had wanted to become a girl and I said, "Of course not. I was born a boy and raised a boy. It was all I ever wanted to be. Girls turn me on, boys don't. I understand boys, and girls just confuse me."

"These documents say you wanted to be a girl."

"I never wanted that."

"There are standard procedures in cases like these that the State requires in the case of minors like you. Did your doctor test you for a hormonal imbalance?"

"Not so far as I know. The only time I've saw him in the year before this happened was for my sports physical."

"Were you referred to an endocrinologist instead?"

"No, he was the only doctor I saw, before I was in the hospital."

The prosecutor turned to the judge and said, "These are affidavits, signed by the attending doctors while he was in the hospital after he was beaten, swearing to the fact that no hormone testing was performed at that time."

He turned back to me and said, "Did you see a therapist, psychologist or psychiatrist about becoming a girl."

"No."

He looked at a list in his hand and said, "Were you counseled on your options?"

"No."

"Did they start you on hormone therapy?"

"No."

"Were you referred to a specialist in transgendered patients?"

"No."

"Then, can I safely say that none of the requirements were met, before a minor is allowed to start the one-year real-life test?"

"Yes Sir."

He turned to the defense attorney and said, "Your witness."

The defense attorney didn't even look up as he said, "No questions your honor."

I sat back down to watch the rest of the trial. One thing puzzled me, since he was so obviously guilty, why hadn't he pled guilty or accepted a plea bargain? I decided to ask the prosecutor the next time that I saw him.

After the trial recessed for the day, I asked if I could talk with him for a few minutes. He led us to a little room and I asked my question. He said, "I don't know why he didn't plead guilty, that is between him and his attorney. Because of the publicity behind the case, he was never offered a plea bargain. There is no way we were going to be raked over the coals like the DA's office was. I despise your father and the things he put you through. I'm shooting for the harshest punishment the law allows."

I thanked him and we left for the day. The trial finally ended and my father was found guilty on all counts. He was led away a broken man, sentenced to 30 years.

The next day, Ms. Mackenzie asked me if I was happy. I said, "No, but I'm finally satisfied that justice has been done."

"What about your mother and your sister? Not to mention all the lessor players in what happened to you?"

"My mother had no more choice in this than I did. My father totally dominated our family, and I can't really blame her for what happened. Debbie was just acting like she was supposed to, sibling rivalry and all that. The others have been punished, one way or the other. If you want to make me happy, turn back the clock to before I ran out to get that bat and stop all of this from happening in the first place. Satisfied is as good as it gets, I'm afraid."

Chapter Four

Ms. Mackenzie began talking like I had turned the corner. She was sure that I had come to accept what had happened to me, and that I was ready to get on with my life. I figured that my parent's money was running out.

The first set of foster parents they introduced me to were absolutely horrid. She wanted to turn me into feminine little lady, and he wanted to protect me from the rest of the world. Ms. Mackenzie realized that they weren't going to work before I said a word.

The next set of foster parents and I hit it off from the get go. After I explained what had happened to me, they said that any changes would have to come from within me. They understood that I didn't have any idea where I was going with my life. They even understood that the closest definition of my sexual orientation, that would fit my mind and my body, was that of a lesbian. They told me that they only took in one foster kid at a time, and they didn't have any kids of their own. By the time the interview was finished, the Potters had a new foster kid.

Ms. Mackenzie helped me pack, since my parents had paid for all the clothes and other stuff in the room. I expected that we would go straight to their house, but we stopped off at an office building and went into Miss Anderson's office. It took me a second, but I remembered that she had visited me in the hospital. She was my case worker. She and the Potters talked with me about how foster care worked, and I was given some stuff to sign. Everything looked straight forward, so I signed it. Mostly, it was about the stuff they we had just talked about. She gave me her card and asked me to call her whenever I had a problem, or if I just wanted to talk.

After we left there, they took me to their home. The room they put me in was pretty much gender neutral, and there was barely room for all my stuff. That was OK, I figured on getting rid of some of it anyway. They lived on the other side of town from my old home, so I didn't have to worry about running into anyone that knew me.

We were kind of tense around each other that first evening. Everybody was trying hard to make a good impression. Mrs. Potter and I just sat down and talked the next day and put that all behind us. She was a real nice lady and we talked about how I was going to fit in. She was honest about her desires to show me how to be a lady, but to her that meant more than makeup and a pretty dress.

She said, "A lady remains a lady, no matter what she wears. It is more about treating people right, being polite and holding your head high. Except for their roles in life, there are few differences between a lady and a gentleman. Mind you, I want you to learn how to do all the womanly things like being able to cook a meal and clean a house. However, I also want you to be able to change the oil in an automobile, fix a leaky faucet, drive a nail properly and do your income taxes."

"I guess that I can do that, even make up, hair care and the whole girlie trip. Just don't expect to see me that way very often."

"Beth, considering who you are, I don't expect a lot from you in that direction. I want you to be able to do many things that I don't expect you to actually do very often. I also want you to understand things you may never do, like auto repair, so you are less likely to be ripped off."

We talked about my chores and what they expected of me, and then we talked about what I could expect from them. It all sounded pretty reasonable. Then we talked about school.

I had two options. I could go to an all girl's Catholic high school or a public high school. The Catholic high school had more rigorous academics and I wouldn't have to deal with boys, but I would have to wear a uniform that consisted of skirts or dresses. The nuns were big believers in lady-like behavior and deportment, and were unlikely to accept a lesbian life-style. The public school wasn't as strong academically. I would be exposed to boys and would have to work on my social skills. They also had an active LGBT (lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transsexuals) organization on campus. That didn't sound like much of a choice to me, public school here I come.

I got to talk to my school counselor the next day. She seemed like a nice lady, but was having problems trying to find me classes I hadn't already had. There was room in the Trig class for me, but after that I would have to take Calculus through the college, because the high school didn't offer it. I was also well beyond what they taught in science, except for the new Ecology class. I had already met both History requirements, so all I needed was Civics and American Government, which I could take next year or over the summer like a lot of kids did to get it out of the way. English 3 should be a snap and PE was required. For the remaining three slots, she recommended Spanish 1, Drama and Home EC.

I asked her, "Why are you recommending those particular electives?"

"You don't have a foreign language and Spanish is well on its way to becoming our second language. Drama is all about becoming another person, which would seem to be a good skill for you to learn. Home EC would give you the chance to interact with other girls, in a traditional environment. Even lesbians like you learned to socialize as girls. I think it would help you a lot."

"OK, that makes sense. Let's do it."

The printer spit out a copy of my schedule and I would start right after the Christmas break. I thanked her and walked back to my new home. Mrs. Potter scolded me for not calling her for a ride, but I told her that it was a nice day and I felt like a walk. I asked her if there was a gym in the area that I could use, and she said that I could come with her to aerobics class tomorrow. I asked her if I could go for a run and she told me to be back by 5 so I could help with dinner. I put on my watch and off I went.

I came back at 4:30, took a shower and changed. I wasn't much help in the kitchen, but she taught me a lot in a short time. Mr. Potter came home and changed, then came out to the kitchen and talked about his day while helping us finish up. Dinner was quite good, and I'm not just saying that because I helped fix it. Everyone pitched in afterwards and the kitchen was clean in no time.

After dinner, we went out to the living room and talked. They found out that I would generally prefer to read than watch TV, unless a baseball game was on. They found out that I enjoyed math and science, but was good in most every subject. I pulled out my schedule to show them and they were surprise about me taking Home EC. Once I explained what the counselor had said, they nodded and said that it made sense.

He told me that he was a CPA and that we wouldn't be seeing much of him from January through the end of April. He worked long hours during tax season, but had a lot of free time during the rest of the year. She did a lot of charity work, but didn't have a job, per se.

We talked some more and went to bed. The rest of the week was like this, getting to know one another. I went to gym with her everyday, and got back into my routine. They didn't have Tai Chi, but they did have a yoga class and I went to that. Missing my Tai Chi, I asked if there was a class in the area, but the closest thing we were able to find was a Judo class. I started taking Judo, and went as much as I could, which usually meant several hours a day, 6 days a week. With my athletic body and the balance I had acquired from Tai Chi, the only thing keeping me from flying through the belts was that Master Pokowski would only test once a month, and insisted that his students take at least two months after a promotion before they tested again.

I was getting frustrated at my slow progress in Judo, until Master Pokowski took me to one side. "Beth, are you here to earn belts so you can show off, or are you here to learn Judo?"

"I want to learn Judo, but…"

"Ah, ah. No buts. I am teaching you Judo as fast as you are capable of learning it. We both know that you are qualified for a much higher belt than the white one you are wearing. So why don't I just let you test for that belt, instead of keeping you back?"

"That is what I want to know."

He sighed. Then he said, "Are you the only student in my class?"

"Of course not. There are 20 other kids… You aren't slowing my progression down for me, you're doing it for them aren't you?"

"Precisely. Not everyone is as gifted as you, or has your background in Tai Chi. You are also the only student that comes here every day and you spend hours practicing when you are here. If I promoted you as fast as you deserve, the others could easily become discouraged at their snail-like progress and quit."

"OK, I understand now. I'll try not to get so frustrated."

I had the nicest Christmas that I could remember. Even though there were very few gifts, each gift was special. We spent the day just being together and learning about one another. That was so different from my previous Christmases that I almost couldn't believe we were celebrating the same holiday.

Finally, Christmas break was over and I could go back to school. Mrs. Potter wanted me to wear a dress to my first day of school, but I nixed that idea quickly. "Even if I wanted to wear skirts, which I don't, there is close to a foot of snow on the ground. I'd freeze!"

"All right, you've made your point. How about slacks and a nice sweater."

"Deal."

That is how I went to school the next morning. No makeup or jewelry, neat short hair and boots filled out the ensemble. I had no car, but the school was close, so I walked.

My first class was English, which was also my homeroom. I showed the teacher my schedule and she gave me my books. The class was reviewing the material that had been covered to date, since semester finals were next week. Oh boy, my social life was going to consist of homework until I got caught up.

Fortunately, I was beyond where the rest of the class was in Trig, so the homework wouldn't be a problem. Unfortunately, Spanish was just the opposite. Mr. Sanchez offered to help me come up to speed, as fast as possible, but I would have to test with the others if I wanted credit for the first semester.

PE was a relief. I was in as good a shape as any of the girls in my class, better than most. With all the snow on the ground, the coach just had us do aerobics in the gym, and I kept up easily.

Several of the girls went to lunch with me, to get to know me better. I ate my bag lunch and told them my story. They were fascinated, especially about the Doug to Beth part. We were almost late for our classes and they wanted to get together with me after I got out of my after-school Spanish lesson.

Home EC was different. Becky, one of the girls that I had lunch with, was in the class with me. The teacher spent the period working with girls that had questions, so Becky was able to bring me up to speed on where the class was at. With the cooking lessons that Mrs. Potter had been giving me, I should be all right.

Ecology was mostly a snap. It blended what I had learned my other science courses, and added a real-world edge. I wasn't going to have to work hard to catch up on this class, but I'd have a bunch of reading to do.

Drama was different. They had just finished up with the fall production before Christmas break, and were beginning to prepare for the play they were going to put on in May. Since I had no acting experience, I became a stagehand. During the next few months I would learn how to make scenery, apply makeup, fit and clean costumes, operate the curtains, work a spotlight and a whole lot more.

When school was over for the day, I went straight to my Spanish class and he set me up in the lab, starting with the first week's lessons. I went through everything twice, and then it was time to leave. I left for home and the girls met me there. We went inside and I introduced them to Mrs. Potter. She made us some drinks and we went into the living room to talk and study. Well, make that talk.

I told them some more of my story, including the fact that I like girls, not boys. I told them that they didn't have to worry about me hitting on any of them and they all relaxed, except Becky. She said that she might hit on me instead, since I had come out of the closet. Everyone laughed when I said I had never found the closet in the first place, so there was nothing to come out of.

Two of them had the same English teacher, so they stayed behind after the other girls left to bring me up to speed as fast as they could. We were surprised when Mrs. Potter called out "Dinner." After some quick calls home, everyone was able to eat with us and we had a good time. Mr. Potter kicked us out of the living room and put the TV on, so we transferred to the dining room. By the time my brain hit overload, I had picked up a lot of ground.

The rest of the week went by like that, and I was mostly caught up in everything except Spanish. Mr. Sanchez continued to work with me, and told me that he would give me the final on Friday, so I would have a better chance to pass the test.

Over the weekend, Mrs. Potter introduced me to a friend of hers who spoke Spanish. With her help, I was able to learn quite a lot over the weekend. During the next week, I finished most of the rest of the lessons. On Friday, I took the test and squeaked out a C.

I did as well or better in my other classes, although I scored an incomplete in PE and Drama. I was told that I could still get credit for the whole year if I applied myself, and I told them that I would try.

A week later and I had caught up in all my classes and could slow down. I was able to spend more time with my new friends, I went back to Judo and the gym, and I was able to attend my first LGBT meeting.

Becky took me to the meeting, and I was beginning to feel like she and I could be more than just friends. Naturally, I had to tell my story. Most of them had already heard some of it and everybody seemed to be really supportive. One of the guys thought it was cool to finally have a transgendered person in the group; now they had at least one of everything. Becky disagreed, saying that I wasn't transgendered, just a lesbian. Everybody broke up at that point. I guess you had to be there.

When the meeting was over Becky grabbed my hand, turned to face the other girls and said "Mine." Instead of being upset, I felt really good about what she had done and gave her a hug. She smiled at me, then turned to the others and said, "See?"

Just because there was a LGBT chapter on campus didn't mean that everyone thought we had a right to be there. We had our share of fundamentalists that were sure that we were all going to hell. Maybe we were, but why do they care? Then there was the usual assortment of people that didn't like anyone different. They reminded me of my father. Some of them were waiting for us as we came out of the room.

It started out as verbal harassment and probably wouldn't have gone any farther, but one of the gay guys screwed up. He asked them what were they afraid of, did they think they might be just like him and unable to handle it. I wondered if all gay guys were that stupid, because the biggest harasser jumped him and we had a free for all on our hands.

Becky and I tried to stay out of it, but when one of the bozos tried to grab Becky, I saw red and tossed him across the hallway. This only annoyed him, so he came after me. He was a slow learner, but after I threw him head first into the wall, the fight seemed to go out of him. Becky and I were able to make a break for it after that, and went to find the security types. We ran into them on their way to the scene, so we stepped out of their way and let them do their thing.

Nobody was badly hurt, except possibly Sleeping Beauty, just a lot of bumps and bruises, black eyes and bloody noses. Everyone was rounded up and taken to the principal's office. Becky and I came along as well, since we knew we would be identified later.

We actually got called in to see him first, since we were considered witnesses at that point. Becky was still shaken up, so I told the story straight. The principal was surprised that I told him about my part in the fight, but I just said that it would come out eventually, so why lie about it. I pointed out that the whole thing probably wouldn't have happened if a teacher had been there at the beginning, and asked him why we didn't have an advisor like the other organizations.

After that I told him who said what, as far as I could remember, while Becky supplied the names I didn't know. I blamed the head abuser and the idiot gay guy for the fight since they had started it. I didn't sugarcoat my part in it, but did let him know that I had thrown the kid to the floor before I put him into the wall. The principal tried to hide his smile when I said he was a slow learner, but didn't quite succeed. I also mentioned the ones that only defended themselves, on both sides. He seemed surprised at that as well.

We were sent into a conference room to wait while he got everyone else's story. Since there was a phone in the room, I called Mrs. Potter to let her know what was going on, then I handed the phone to Becky so she could call her folks. As more members of the LGBT group came in, we made sure they had a chance to call home as well. Apparently, the jerks were being penned in a different room, because we never saw them. The idiot gay guy was the last one who came into the room, and by then he was bruising nicely. Several of us got in his case about his stupid comment, and he just shrugged and said he was sorry. I said that he looked sorry, and was going to look even sorrier as the week went on. My poor attempt at humor broke the tension and everyone laughed. After that we all felt better.

The principal came in and said that he had tried to call our parents, but none of them seemed to be home. Then he asked me to come into his office. He told me that everyone's stories were all over the map, but mine sounded like what had actually happened. He asked where my foster mother would be at this time of day, and I told him that she was probably in his outer office as we were speaking. He looked at me funny and I asked him what did he expect; he had locked us in a room with a phone in it. Of course we were going to call our folks. It was about at that point I heard Mrs. Potter ask where I was, and suggested that he invite her in.

He did so, and could see several other parents waiting in the hallway. He told me to go back to the conference room and invited all the parents in to talk with him. He told the secretary to just send in any more parents that showed up and asked to see him or their children. I went back into the room and told people that a bunch of parents had shown up and they were talking with the principal right now. Several of the kids groaned, but most of the seemed OK with it.

I got Becky and took her to some seats in the far corner, where I proceeded to cuddle. She told me to stop, but didn't struggle too much. I asked her why and she said that we were in enough trouble as it is. I giggled and asked her what they were going to do, lock us in a room with a bunch of perverts? She hit me on my left arm (not too hard), but saw the logic in what I was saying and returned my cuddle.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably no more than a half an hour (the room had a phone, but no clock), the door was opened and we were released into our parents clutches. Somehow, they didn't seem pleased.

Mrs. Potter was mad and wanted to take me straight home, but let me stop by my locker and get my homework. I could tell that she wanted to give me what for, so as soon as we got in the car, I started the conversation by asking her if I could tell her my story. She told me to go ahead, so I told her the same thing I had told the principal. She waited until we got home, then I got the "I'm so disappointed in you for fighting" speech. I waited until she got it out of her system, and then said, "What should I have done when that bully tried to grab Becky? He's a lot bigger than she is and could have really hurt her."

Mrs. Potter didn't say anything for a few moments, then said, "I don't know what to tell you. Ladies don't fight, but friends protect each other."

"Becky and I were trying to stay out of the fight. In fact, we were trying to get away when that guy reached for her. I threw him, but he kept coming. That is when I threw him the second time. I had to stop him somehow, so I put him into the wall and he stayed down. After that Becky and I got away."

"I am still not comfortable about you fighting. Perhaps your Judo lessons were a bad idea."

I shook my head and said, "I would have still tried to defend my friend. Without the Judo lessons, it could have been me in the hospital."

"I don't know what to think. Let's start dinner, and we can talk about this after we eat."

Mr. Potter came home and we had dinner. After we cleaned everything up, he said, "All right, out with it. What's going on?"

I looked at her and raised my eyebrow as if to ask, "Do you want me to tell him." She nodded her head and I told him the story. I looked at her and said it was her turn, so she voiced her concerns. Then we both looked at him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"I have to agree that you shouldn't get into fights, and not because girls aren't supposed to fight. No one should be fighting at your age. That being said, if the fight comes to you or your family or friends, you may have to defend yourself or others. This is a bad situation, with no right answers. As a victim of violence yourself, you should understand that."

I said, "I'm taking martial arts mostly for the exercise, but after having been beaten half to death, the ability to defend myself is important to me. I won't start a fight or attack others, but I reserve the right to defend my family, my friends and myself. If that is unacceptable, we might as well call Miss Anderson and let her know that I need a new foster home."

I was looking straight at Mrs. Potter as I said that, and she finally lowered her eyes and said, "We don't need to bother Miss Anderson. You are right, I just don't like fighting."

He said, "I don't either, but if you have no choice, you have to fight. We don't like fighting, but we understand your position. There will be no punishment. Now young lady, have you finished your homework?"

I told them that I hadn't, gave them both a hug and went to take care of it. The next day, I skipped lunch to bring Miss Anderson up to speed on the incident. I had received a note in homeroom to go to the principal's office after my last class, and I made sure she knew that and asked her to call Mrs. Potter to let her know, as my lunch period was over and I had to get to my next class.

He seemed really angry when he called me into his office. "Why didn't you tell me you studied martial arts?"

I said, "I told you that I threw him twice. I didn't think my white belt was that big a deal."

"You are only a white belt?"

"Yes. I have been studying Judo for five weeks now; it will be at least three more weeks before Master Pokowski will let me test for my yellow belt. I have his number if you want to call him to confirm that."

"Is that all the martial arts you have studied?"

"Yes, unless you count Tai Chi. I practiced that for a few months while I was in the sanitarium. Like the Judo, I was taking that for the exercise. If I could have found a Tai Chi class, I wouldn't have even taken Judo in the first place."

He thought for a few moments, and then he said, "The boy you put in the hospital has a serious concussion. His parents want your hide, and found out somehow that you are a martial artist. They are talking of suing both you and the school over this. They are also talking with the police, trying to have you arrested for assault with a deadly weapon, plus anything other charge they think might stick. You need to talk to your foster parents."

Great. I was beginning to think that the Potters were right. I walked home and talked with Mrs. Potter. Unlike the first discussion, this time she just laughed. "You mean that his parents are going to sue a girl half his size because she beat him up? If they do that, his life will be Hell from now until he graduates." She chuckled on and off until Mr. Potter came home. He thought it was funny too. I'm going to be arrested and they're laughing about it. I'll never understand adults.

The next day at school, the predictable happens. The principal called an assembly for first period to talk about tolerance. SIGH! I sat with Becky and cuddled until a teacher told us to stop. When I asked her why she didn't stop the boy-girl cuddling going on at the other end of our row, she told us that we should pay attention to the principal since this was all about us anyway. I didn't know whether to be annoyed or not, but I moved away from Becky.

Finally the assembly was over and we could go back to class. The girls at lunch seemed a little distant at first, till I told them what the parents of the guy I fought were trying to do. They all knew Billy and thought it was a scream. "He must outweigh you by a hundred pounds, and he is a lot taller than you are. How did you hurt him anyway?"

"I have five weeks of Judo training."

Everyone laughed themselves silly over that one. Some of the kids at the nearby tables wanted to know what was so funny, so the girls told them. Just so they could see how dangerous I looked, I stood up and posed like I was a Kung Fu master. One of the kids had studied Karate, and he said that my stance was one of the worst he had ever seen. Everyone cracked up at that.

That is when the detectives came into the cafeteria and asked for me. Everybody quieted down real fast, until Becky said, "Watch out officers, she has FIVE WEEKS of Judo training." The entire cafeteria lost it, including the teachers. I asked the detectives if I was under arrest, but they said that I wasn't, they just had some questions for me.

They took me to the conference room and asked me to tell them what happened during the fight. I told them the same thing I told everyone else. I was beginning to think I should record this little speech and sell copies, the story was that popular. They asked me about my martial arts training, so I told them about the Tai Chi classes and my white belt in Judo. I gave them the name and phone number of my Judo master, so they could check my story out. I was going to give them Ms. Mackenzie's number, so they could check on my Tai Chi classes, but they said it wasn't necessary. They asked me if I had martial arts training before that, and I told them that before that I was a boy that couldn't even hold down the position of batboy. The older detective looked surprised and asked me if I used to be Doug Abbott and I told him I had. He turned to his partner and said that he thought that they were finished here. They made sure that I got a pass from the office so I wouldn't get into trouble for being late to my next class.

By the end of the day, the story was all over the school. Billy's social life was ruined forever and his girlfriend said she never wanted to see him again. Something about him not even being a competent wife beater (we all knew what she meant, but razed her about it). Even the idiots he had been with that day distanced themselves from him; they didn't want to be tarred with the same brush.

One of the girls said that I was some kind of hero, and I nipped that in the bud immediately. I told her that I wasn't a hero and that fighting was stupid. I just lost it when that bully reached for my girlfriend. I told her that I was lucky that Billy was such an idiot, because if he knew how to fight and had kept his cool, he could have hurt me badly. Everyone at the table nodded their head, and then one of the girls asked if Becky and I were going steady. Becky thought that was funny, and said that we weren't, but she expected me to pop the question any day now.

I turned red as a beet and the table lost it. Becky hugged me and whispered in my ear that we were now accepted as a couple. I was glad that happened, but I sure was embarrassed. I decided to ham it up, got down on me knee and said in my best southern accent, "Miss Becky, would you grant me the privilege of being my steady girlfriend."

She batted her eyes at me and said, "I would be honored Miss Bethany, but where's my ring?"

I said, "I was overcome with love and had to ask before someone else was struck by cupid's arrow. We can search for the perfect ring after we are done here today."

The whole table was laughing so hard that they were gasping for breath, and the kids at the tables next to ours were cracking up as well. I'm not sure where the performance would have gone from there, but I was saved by the bell.

After school, we went to the mall and looked at the jewelry displays. We finally found what we wanted in Macy's. They had these cute little rings, designed to hold two birthstones. We got two of them in peridot and amethyst, and put them on each other's left ring fingers at the same time. I looked into her eyes and saw the tears welling up in them, so we walked home holding hands and occasionally stopping to kiss.

Mrs. Potter saw me as soon as I came in the door. Before she could say anything I said, "She said yes. Becky is my steady and I'm so happy I can't see straight."

"You two haven't been doing anything you aren't suppose to, are you?"

I cracked up and said, "Don't worry, I won't get her pregnant if that is what you're worried about."

"Bethany Lynn Abbott! That isn't what I meant and you know it."

"Yes Mom. We haven't done anything except kissing and cuddling. I won't say that we won't go farther some day, but that's to be enough for now."

Mrs. Potter sighed and said, "I don't know what to say. Ladies wait until marriage before the give themselves to their husband, but Becky isn't husband material is she? Open lesbianism and homosexuality haven't been around long enough for the definitions of ladies and gentlemen to include them. I still want you to become a lady, but we are going to have to work together to blaze the trail in this area. Does that work for you?"

"Yes it does. You are becoming the mom I never had, and yes I still want to be a lady. For you if for no other reason."

She looked in my eyes and saw that I was serious. She reached for me and I joined her in a hug. She whispered "Thank you," in my ear, and I whispered back that she was welcome. She let me go, then asked me if I had done my homework yet. I told her that I hadn't and went off to do it.

Fortunately, I didn't have much to do, and I was done by the time I was called for dinner. Mr. Potter complimented me on the ring, and asked if there was any special meaning to it. I told him that Becky and I had exchanged rings with our birthstones on them. He frowned slightly and asked if we were engaged now. I was drinking iced tea at the time and it almost came out of my nose. I grabbed my napkin, wiped my mouth and chin, and then told him we weren't old enough for anything like that. We were only going steady. He seemed much happier.

As the school year went on, things just seemed to get better. Becky and I became even closer, and the specter of SEX loomed ever nearer. I was caught up in all my classes and had even done a lot of extra credit work to make up for the fact that I had missed the first four months of the school year. I had earned my yellow belt the first of March, and was more than ready for my orange belt test. The kids all seem to accept me for what I am; some of them didn't like it, but they accepted me.

Chapter Five

When we were walking home from school one day in April I said, "Would you like to go to the junior prom with me?"

She hugged me tight and said, "Yes, with one condition. If I'm going to get all dressed up, you have to promise me that you will too."

"Sure, no problem. I can rent a tux."

Apparently, that was the wrong answer. She hit me on the arm and said, "No! If I'm getting all dolled up in a prom dress with matching accessories, hairdo and makeup, you are too." Then she cuddled up to me and said with a smile, "I'd really like to see you all pretty and feminine, at least once."

My mind doesn't work all that well when Becky cuddles up to me like that. Those tactics are really unfair. I heard my self saying, "OK," before I knew what I was doing. There was no going back on it now.

We went to my place to tell Mom the news. She gushed. She told me that I would be the prettiest girl at the prom. I told her that wasn't possible and she said, "Just you wait and see, you'll be gorgeous."

"That won't make me the prettiest girl at the prom, Becky will be there." From Becky's reaction, I'd say I scored a bull's eye.

The two of them sat down with me and plotted out the campaign like it was Desert Storm. It was decided that we would hit the stores early on Saturday. I didn't even have the tickets yet, but I had an appointment for a complete makeover the day of the prom.

I got the tickets on Friday. Saturday I was told to wear a skirt and a blouse, they would be much easier to change out of. I was also told to wear heals. That hadn't been on the program. When we left to pick up Becky and her mother, I was seriously annoyed. Then we hit the stores. The first one's stuff looked too cheap. The next one's stuff was overpriced. The third store was just right and I was keeping an eye out for three bears.

Then came the dresses. Most of them were the wrong color for me, but Becky would look good in some of them. This dress was too short and the next one made me look fat. I drew the line at the next one; they said it looked cute and I said only if I was five. I was relatively sure that between us, we had tried on every dress in the store. There were a couple of dresses that I thought I could live with, but no, we had to keep looking, after a quick bite to eat.

It was like we started all over again. The next store's dresses looked too cheap and the one after that was overpriced. Are we seeing a pattern here? I thought so too, until the next store was found to be even more expensive. Finally, we stopped in another store that was "just right." Fortunately, there were still no bears. They must still be looking for us at the other places.

We hadn't been there for five minutes when Becky found THE gown. It did look really nice on her, even without the other stuff. Now all three of them could concentrate on me. I was getting to the "if it is a gunnysack, I'll where it" stage, when they found THE gown. Strangely, it didn't look anything like Becky's. Everyone agreed that it was perfect, and I started to leave. I was quickly brought back and fitted with 3" heels that would be dyed to match the dress. They also got me a purse so small it looked useless, but it matched the shoes.

By then, my feet were killing me. They took me to the food court and everyone got a soda. Becky didn't seem to be doing much better in her heels than I did. After an all too short rest, we were off to accessorize. By the time we were done, all I wanted to do was go home and soak my feet. I should be so lucky. Noticing that we weren't doing so well in our heels, the mothers took us to a discount shoes store and bought us some more. They explained that we needed to practice between now and the prom or we wouldn't be able to enjoy it. My comment that we would be able to enjoy the days between now and the prom was met with disdain.

We dropped Becky and her mom off at their house, and I watched my crippled girlfriend slowly make her way into the house. I had taken my heels and pantyhose off, and had no intention of putting them back on today. Mom gave me a look when she noticed me limping barefoot into the house, but I think that she recognized that she would lose that discussion and said nothing.

I took off the girlie clothes, put on some shorts and a tee shirt, and soaked my feet for over an hour. Then I drew a nice hot bath and just lay in it till it got cold. When I got out, my feet still bothered me, but it wasn't anything like before. I went straight to bed to rest my feet and fell asleep instantly.

The next morning, I came to breakfast in my normal attire, including tennis shoes. Mom wanted to know if I had forgotten that we were going to church and I said that I hadn't, but I knew she would want me to wear heels and I was sparing my feet that ordeal as long as possible. She smiled and said OK, but she wanted to help me get ready this morning. Ut oh.

She came up with me and said that she wanted me to practice the feminine skill part of being a lady; the hair, makeup and nice clothing stuff she had talked to me about. She explained that by going all out on Sunday church services, I could practice those skills without sticking out amongst my friends. I said OK, as it seemed like the most painless way to make her happy and learn the things she wanted me to learn.

I learned about makeup and how to wear a dress, but my short hair made the lessons on fixing my hair difficult. She asked me to consider longer hair, but I countered that I would probably always wear my hair short like this. She sighed, but agreed that long hair was not necessary. She gave me lessons on how to move in heels and a skirt or dress, and then we went to church. It had taken so long that we ended up going to the late service. Mr. Potter was not pleased – he had things to do today.

Several of the ladies complemented me on my new appearance, and ask me what had happened. They seemed happy when I told them that I was practicing for my junior prom. They asked me who my boyfriend was and Mom hurried me off to the car, saying that we were running late and her husband would kill us if we kept him any longer. I giggled most of the way home.

When we got home, Dad was out of the car like a shot. She asked me if I was hungry and after I said yes, backed out of the driveway and took us to the local diner. She took me into the ladies and we took care of business. She had me check my hair and my makeup, especially my lipstick, telling me that I needed to get into the habit of doing this periodically, including after every time I ate.

We went back to our table and ordered our lunch. As per usual, she thought that I ordered too much for a lady. I countered that as long as I remained slender and didn't order more than I wanted to eat, I didn't see any problem. We talked about eating and etiquette throughout the meal. She had to admit that I ate like a lady and finished what I ordered, so she left it there.

We used the ladies room again and even I could tell that I needed more lipstick. On the drive home she complemented me on how well I had handled my self today. That felt nice, but my feet didn't, so I changed out of my fancy duds as soon as we got home. I felt more comfortable in my jeans, but I did wear a nice blouse and left my makeup on, just to make her happy.

Becky came over later and complemented me on the way I looked. She was wearing the same things I was, but had on her heels. She asked me where mine were, and I told her they were upstairs giving my feet a break after spending the morning in them. We cuddled and watched a couple of movies, then she went home. We didn't eat till Dad came home, which was late because of me, so I cooked dinner and cleaned everything up afterwards. I was exhausted, so I went right to bed.

The next week was interesting. I wore my heels every day, usually with a blouse and painted on jeans. I even wore some makeup. Becky couldn't keep her hands off of me. I actually found myself being hit on by guys! You'd have thought that the word would have gotten around by now. A lot of girls asked me if I was changing my spots. I told them no, I was just trying out the camouflage. That got quite a few laughs.

Saturday was another shopping expedition. I loved spending the time with Becky, but I was curious about what was left to buy. Silly me, since I was now dressing in a more feminine manner, they decided I needed a better wardrobe. I protested to no avail and off to the mall we went. No good deed goes unpunished.

Once again I was in a blouse, a skirt and heels. This time I even wore makeup, mostly because it made Becky very attentive. We power shopped all day, with much more frequent rest-the-feet breaks. We didn't buy very much, but we all had a good time. We ran into several friends and some of them didn't even recognize me at first. They all thought I looked better this way and Becky definitely agreed. My feet only started to hurt toward the end of the excursion.

Sunday was a carbon copy of last Sunday, although we made it to the early service this time. I did my own makeup this time and, after a couple of pointers, Mom approved. After church, the ladies came out of the woodwork again to complement me. I told them that I had a date for the prom and decided I'd better practice so I'd look my best. They wanted to know everything, but I was able to keep the discussion focused on what I was wearing, rather than who was taking me.

Mom was very nervous until we got into the car. I asked her what was wrong. She said that I knew very well what was wrong, since I had danced around the questions about who I was going with. I smiled, and then said, "I understand, but I feel like a hypocrite."

"Whatever makes you say that?"

"I am what I am, and considering our church's liberal stance on homosexuality, I feel that I'm living a lie. Should we be concerned that they know I'm a lesbian?"

She thought about it for a minute then said, "It's easy to be liberal when you don't have to actually meet the people that you say everyone should accept. However, you are right. If they ask you who you are going with next week, just let them know."

We got home and I changed into a skirt and a blouse, and lower heels. I refreshed my makeup and went over to see Becky. She showed me her appreciation for how I was dressed and we went up to her room so she could change. You could have cut the tension in that room with a knife, and something would have happened if her family hadn't been home. We went back downstairs and just cuddled, but our relationship had changed.

As we were walking home on Wednesday, she told me that she was getting a limo, since I had picked up the tickets. She said that she was also going to pay for the dinner, so I said I would get the hotel room. We both stopped and looked at each other while what I had said sunk in. I started to apologize, but she just reached out and put her finger on my lips before I could say anything. Then she said, "Thank you, I'm looking forward to that."

I came in the house, floating at least three inches above my heels. Mom said, "So, what put you in such a good mood?"

"I have something else to do for the prom."

"I thought that we had taken care of everything, what did we miss?"

I looked her straight in the eye and said, "Hotel reservations."

She looked stunned and sat down in the chair by her side. I came over, sat next to her and held her hand. I said, "Mom, it's time, and I don't want to sneak around on you about this."

She looked at me for the longest time. Finally she said, "I guess you're right and I'm glad you're up front about this, but you are both too young for this." I was about to say something, but she stopped me and said, "No matter how old you are, you'll always be too young until you're married. I can't help feeling that way. Thank you for trusting me and I won't forbid this."

I reserved the room and got reservations for two at their restaurant the night of the prom. That would give us the chance to drop our things off at the room before the night got started. I told Becky what I'd done and she said that made sense, she would take me there for dinner.

Finally the big day had arrived. Our mothers took us to our appointment, but instead of taking us to our normal beauty parlor, they took us to the new beauty spa downtown. We were treated to a herbal scrub and a massage before they even started the regular stuff. If for no other reason, I have to go back for that foot massage. I was in heaven.

They couldn't do much with my hair, but what they could do, they did. It looked really cute when they were done. They did a major job on my nails, and my makeup; I had never looked this good before. As for Becky, all I could say was Wow! Fortunately, our mothers brought us is separate cars, because she looked so good I wanted her right then.

We went home and had a late lunch of just rabbit food, and not very much of that either. Then mom helped me dress. I didn't really need her help, but she was enjoying herself and I was glad she was there. Finally, everything was ready. Of course I was ready way too early, but mom said the suspense was good for me. HA!

At the appropriate time, Becky arrived. It was time for pictures. Pictures of me alone. Pictures of just her. Pictures of the two of us pining on each other's corsages. Pictures of us standing together. By the time our mothers were done, all I could see were spots of flashbulb flashes.

I grabbed my overnight bag and we headed for the hotel. We checked in and went up to our room. After paying off the bellhop, went put our things away, checked our hair and makeup, then went downstairs to eat. I had the chicken cordon bleu and she had the salmon. We shared little bites and they were both delicious.

We took the limo over to the prom. Since we were fashionable late, we had to wait for over fifteen minutes to get in. It seems like we weren't the only ones with that idea.

The ballroom of the hotel had been done up in a Hawaiian theme. The decorating committee got a big round of applause for their efforts, but I have no idea what Hawaii had to do with our school. Oh well, at least it looked nice. They put pineapple juice into the punch, so I stuck to soft drinks all night. We sat at the table with a gay couple, so we blended in if you didn't look too closely. We had our picture taken and voted for the king and queen.

We danced. Dancing with Becky was like a dream. Sometime she would lead and sometimes I would. We danced most the dances, but we loved the slow ones and didn't miss any of those. The one who didn't lead would put her head on the other's shoulder and just let the music take us away. As we danced across the floor, it was like we were the only ones there.

Like all good things, the prom came to an end. We danced the last dance together and then lined up for our limo ride to the hotel. As I was standing there, I realized that I had spent the evening made up and dressed as feminine as I could be, and I loved every second of it. I knew at that moment that Ms. Mackenzie was right; I could have fun as a girl. Then I thought that, in an hour or so, I would be having even more fun. I love being a girl and I'll never look back.

  

  

  

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