A Summer's Odyssey free porn video

A SUMMER'S ODYSSEY by Jennifer Sue ********************************************************** DISCLAIMERS: This story may contain scenes of an erotic and/or controversial nature, and is not intended for the perusal of minors. Further if perusal of such material is considered illegal in your area or immoral by your religion or personal beliefs, you should likewise bypass this story. This story remains the property of the author. Permission is granted to download, photocopy, copy and repost so long as any such action contains these disclaimers, and no attempt is made to profit from this story. All characters in this story are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to real persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. ********************************************************* I remember the night my odyssey started as if it were yesterday. A lot has changed since then... especially me. That fateful summer changed me forever. I was forced to grow up as I temporarily became the head of my family. Mom loved the sea and worked as a waitress. We lived on the southeastern tip of Cape Cod just outside Chatham and inherited mom's love of the restless water. For as long as I could remember we never had much money and lived in the poorest section of town. Most of our wardrobe came from thrift shops and it was a major treat to be able to eat at McDonald's. Then mom became ill and things rapidly went down hill. When the busy summer season ended last fall mom lost her job because of absenteeism due to her ongoing worsening illness. Unable to find another job due to her illness we had been forced to go on welfare. We were unable to keep our small apartment and had been forced to move into the only housing our meager resources allowed. It was a small summer cottage on the shore. Now as the summer season was once more upon us we were about to be evicted from the ramshackle building we'd lived in since January. The small building had no central heat and sat right on the shore. Every winter storm that howled and blew off the ocean sent chilly gusts right through the thin walls. Only our love made the near shack our home. The school year had just ended and unlike most boys I was not looking forward to summer. I knew our lifelong struggle just to survive would get worse. That momentous night I lay in bed tossing and turning while trying not to disturb my sisters who were blissfully asleep in the bed beside mine. The quiet talk I'd had earlier that evening with my Mom had left me quite disturbed. All evening mom had been depressed, even quieter than her normal stoic self. For the last two weeks she'd been so ill I had to help her do almost everything. After we'd put the girls to bed mom sat me down. I could tell by her desperate voice and her pallid clammy skin that she was in a great deal of pain. "Kristopher, you have to take charge and keep the family together," she ordered in a soft voice that would accept no arguments. Then she sat silently for a few moments. I looked at her with great concern and helplessness as she bowed her head to hide her tears. I sensed something was very wrong. As I thought about her order, I recalled what she'd told the twins as she tucked the girls into bed. "Lyndi, Teri, I want you to always remember that I love you very much, she told them. You know I've been ill and I really need your cooperation". "Of course, mommy," Lyndi replied as Teri nodded agreement. "I need you to promise to do whatever Kris tells you whenever I go away," mom declared. "We always try to do what Kris says," Lyndi answered. "I know," mom smiled. "But I really need you to promise to do what Kris tells you to do." Sensing the desperation in mom's voice, the twins promised. I'd been deeply disturbed by mom's demand for the twin's promise. After they left the room, mom looked at me. "Kristopher... I need you to take especially good care of your sisters," mom whispered in a voice I could barely make out. "You know I always do that," I replied uneasily. "I love you, Kris," mom answered. "Please remember that." "Sure," I said totally confused by her questions. With a sad smile she laid her head on her heads. Fifteen minutes later I realized she wasn't going to say anything else so I gave her a warm hug before I too went to bed. I stopped in the door to our bedroom and glanced back at her. I could see that mom was crying and shivering. How I wished I could ease her pain and suffering. Tears of sadness and frustration were trickling down my cheeks as I climbed into bed. As I tried to fall asleep my thoughts wandered. As the oldest I was used to being in charge and my 9 year old twin sisters pretty much did listen to me. I wasn't thrilled by this responsibility but then what 12 year old boy would be? Over the years I'd learned to take care of my sisters and myself and had done some things I wasn't happy about to insure our safety. The kids at our school constantly teased us about our worn clothes and ill mother. Personally I also faced the additional teasing most smaller than normal boys suffer. I was the smallest guy in my class and despite the fact I was three years older my twin sisters were as big as me. The girls and I also shared our builds... we were slim blonds with fair complexions. Additionally I had a light sprinkling of freckles across my face and my hair was long overdue for a major trimming. As our finances declined I'd been forced into many fights to defend myself and sisters. These were fights of desperation and were not always fought fairly. My record proved that despite my diminutive appearance I was no sissy for I seldom lost and the few I did were close enough that my opponents didn't relish a rematch. Our bullying classmates learned to leave us alone. As could be expected under such circumstances we had few friends so this forced the three of us to be close. Finally I dozed off. After midnight I awoke in a sweat sensing something was wrong... very wrong. Over the sounds of the wind and waves breaking upon the shore I heard the door creak and listened as someone shuffled across the warped, weather-beaten boards of the porch. MOM! I leapt out of bed and peered out the window into the gloomy darkness in time to see that despite being barely able to stand she was stumbling across the beach heading towards the pounding surf. Hurriedly I dressed and rushed outside. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore were barely audible over the thumping of my heart. Once outside I couldn't see mom so I followed the erratic path left by her staggered gait until it disappeared in the angry swirling breakers ebbing and flowing upon the sand. Vainly I searched the choppy water for some sign of her. Fearfully I called out for her as I waded out into the chilly water until my knees were covered. The incoming waves slapped my stomach as they surged angrily onto the unyielding beach. With the undertow trying to pull me out further I was forced to retreat. I don't know how long I stood staring into the swirling surf wondering why she'd walked into the ocean. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I numbly trudged back to the house feeling a great weight settling upon my shoulders. Now I knew why Mom had told me to take charge and had made the girls promise to listen to me. As I forlornly entered the small house, I saw an envelope resting on the rickety table. Mom had scrawled a note on the back. "Kris, I'm sorry. By now you know I'm gone. As difficult as it may seem, it's really better if I die this way. I have cancer and it can't be stopped. During the last months you've seen how rapidly I've been going downhill. I know at best that I only had a few days to live. Even waiting one more day would have left me too weak to do what I need to do... or by now... what I've done. You know I love the sea. Now I've gone home. Please remember that I chose to end my life this way. If I'd grown any weaker you'd have insisted on getting me to a hospital where I'd die hooked up to machines. That is something I could not do. Also, once the authorities realized how ill I was they would authorities have to place you and your sisters into foster homes... most likely separate homes. Your only chance to keep you and your sisters together is for you to get to your grandma's farm. I know if you show up she'll take you in. Take care of the girls and keep the family together. I love all of you. MOM." It was my turn to lean my head on the table and sob. Once my tears were exhausted I spoke. "I understand, Mom," I whispered to her knowing she'd hear me. Once I'd gained control of myself I opened the envelope. In it was $50.00 and a letter. "Carol, it's wonderful to hear from you after all these years. Unfortunately I'm afraid I can't help you more than this $50.00. Your father died 5 years ago and it hasn't been easy keeping the place up and making ends meet. If you can get here I can use your help to keep a roof over all our heads. More than that I can't do. Oh Carol, if only you had come to me when you discovered you were pregnant. I'd have helped you despite whatever your father did. I love you, Mother." The post mark was 5 days old. The return address listed an RFD box for St. Michael's in Maryland. It also confirmed another suspicion I'd always had. Dad had never married Mom. O'Brien... our last name... was the same as grandma's. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat. The discovered pregnancy had been me. I was grandma's then 15 year old daughter's love child. Mom had told me one night during one of her sicknesses how she ran away to save my Dad from her father's wrath. I didn't remember much about my father since he abandoned us when he found Mom was pregnant with the twins. I hated him for abandoning us. I had no idea if grandma knew if I was her grandson or granddaughter much less if she knew of the twins, but from the tone of Grandma's letter I doubted she knew anything about us. In my innocence I started formulating a plan knowing I couldn't tell the girls about Mom. I had Grandma's address and considering mom's last note reasoned that was the best place to go. I gathered our meager belongings and what little food we had in the house. Into our worn canvas sea bag... mom had told me it had been my grandfather's navy seabag from WWII... I put three blankets, three plastic mugs, a long handled frying pan, a plastic 2 quart storage container, a dishrag, a pocket knife with a can opener, spoons, forks, knives, and an almost full box of wooden matches. Exhausted, I sat on the porch and looked out to the sea... and mom. As the sun came up the bright rays woke me. I woke up the girls and told them Mom had gone to sea, hinting without actually telling them so that they'd assume she shipped out as a cook on a fishing vessel. In a firm voice I told them we had to go to grandma's and we couldn't let anyone know we were without an adult or we'd be split up into foster homes and mom would never be able to find us. The girls were sad that mom left without saying goodbye until I reminded them that in her own way mom had said goodbye last night when she'd made them promise to do as I said. We dressed and gathered our best clothes... most of our clothes were virtually rags anyway and I wanted to travel as light as possible. Thus, we took few spare clothes. Anyone seeing us as we left, the beach house would have seen nothing amiss. We wore jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers with the leading child carrying a seabag. Our shoulder length blond hair hung loosely about our shoulders. The girls were excited about our journey as we trudged into town. Amid the crush of tourists we were virtually invisible. At the local bus station I discovered $50.00 would only get one of us to New York City. Trying not to let the twins know of my disillusionment we left. As we walked I desperately tried to think of how to get to grandma's house. I knew that hitchhiking was way too dangerous so our only choice was to walk. At least that's what I naively thought... after all we had no car and walked everywhere. Leading the girls to the local library I found the maps and plotted a route that would keep us off the interstates as much as possible. The girls eagerly wrote down the route numbers and towns along the route I selected. It was nearly noon when we left the library. As we walked out of town I tried to flesh out my meager plan. We had all summer to make the trip. The nights were warm. We'd sleep wherever we could find or make shelter. I was sure I could somehow earn money along the way. When I told the girls of my plan to walk to Maryland they weren't too happy. They'd been looking forward to the bus ride. Fortunately they remembered their promise to mom to listen to me so off we went. Having just completed the sixth grade I really had no concept of how long the trip would take, how hard and tiring it'd be, or the ultimate cost I'd have to pay. Looking back, I really think if I had known those things I would never have attempted the trip. Ignorance is bliss so we began our odyssey. As the day wore on we hiked along the side of the Massachusetts State route 28 singing and laughing as our spirits of adventure lead us on. After about an hour we were sweated so the girls pulled their shoulder length hair into bouncy girlish ponytails high atop the backs of their heads. Because of my need to preserve myself from being labeled a sissy I resisted putting my hair into a ponytail... I thought real guys didn't wear their hair in ponytails. Stubbornly I walked on. I began to envy my sisters while brushing stray hair from my eyes. After another hour of brushing hair out of my face and sweating I began to reevaluate my position on guys wearing ponytails. Over the years I'd seen a lot of men in ponytails at our resort hometown. At our next rest stop I pulled my hair into a ponytail... but unlike my sisters made sure to tie it close to my neck. We'd covered about seven miles when then girls said they were hungry. Leaving the girls sitting on the curb resting I went inside a mini market. A loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jelly, a jar of Tang, and a quart of milk cost $15.00. After a curbside meal of sandwiches and milk we packed the left overs in the sea bag and we set off again. We'd traveled about 2 more miles since eating and the sun was setting so we settled into a heavily overgrown area near the road beside a stream. We were beat, filthy, and tired of the roaring and stench of the big trucks and all the dirt and debris they flung into the air as they rumbled past. Our initial excitement for our odyssey had evaporated. We were too bushed to do more than settle down for the night. Wrapping ourselves in our blankets the girls snuggled up to me for warmth and comfort. They fell asleep almost immediately but my fears and doubts about the correctness of my decision kept me awake until my fatigue finally won out. We managed to cover 9 miles that first day. In the morning we were once more up with the dawn. After picking bits of trash from our hair we washed up in the stream. The girls made sandwiches while I mixed the Tang into water I drew from the stream. When we'd finished our breakfast, we cleaned up and set off. We played a game by looking at the trucks and cars whizzing past trying to identify the state from which they came. We saw few interesting sights and grew disgusted with the litter which was evident everywhere. We hiked 17 miles during nearly eleven hours taking a five minute break every half hour with a 45 minute stop for lunch at midday. That night we settled into an abandoned gas station finishing off our bread. Once more snuggled together our exhaustion helped us fall asleep quickly. That day we had covered 17 miles. Upon awakening we discovered it was pouring. Having no raincoats or umbrellas the cool rain quickly drenched me when I stepped outside to answer nature's call. I refused to let the girls go outside and found an old bucket which would crudely meet our needs. I shivered as we gathered some debris from inside the building by the open rear door and lit a small fire. Sitting by the small blaze I slowly dried. We caught rainwater in our mugs, mixing in the Tang, drank freely. After a boring day we curled up together having gotten nowhere. The girls wanted to go home so I told them our home would be with grandma. That night we slept fitfully by another stream awakening several times from nightmares. In the morning we awoke stiff and chilled. We'd have to get something to keep us dry and warm if we were to continue. Looking outside I saw the sun shining! Hurriedly we gathered our things and rushed out into the radiant warmth setting out with renewed hopes. By lunch we were once more beat and hungry. Stopping at another mini market I spent $10.00 to buy some fruit, bread, and garbage bags. As we ate I answered the girls' question about the garbage bags telling them they'd keep us dry during rain and warm at night. Early in the afternoon we left route 28 for route 151. I didn't say anything to the girls about our dwindling finances... I'd already spent $25.00 of our $50.00. That night we again made our camp by a stream. That day we walked 16 miles. Shortly after setting out the next day the itinerary I'd plotted took us back onto route 28. As we walked I stopped whenever I saw an opportunity to do this or that job to earn money. Whenever I did this I made the girls stay out of sight. Most of the people just told me to get lost but a few told me they wouldn't trust a scruffy boy off the streets to not rob them blind. Despite the frustration of not finding work the day was interesting as our trek took us past Otis Air Force Base. There was a near constant stream of planes coming into or out of the base. That night near the intersection of route 28 an US route 6 we made our nests in a large drainage pipe. This day we covered 15 miles. When we awoke on the sixth day of our odyssey the sky was overcast. It began to rain as we ate a meager breakfast. Seeing the way the water filled the pipe and ditch that had served as our shelter Somehow I managed to keep my anxiety from showing. I vowed never to spend another night in a place that could be so easily flooded. With our heads poked through the garbage bags to cover us we silently walked down route 6 through a day of on again off again rainstorms. We actually covered 21 miles that day... further than any previous day... because none of us wanted to stop and rest in the chilly weather. That night, chilled and weary, we settled into a home that was under construction. The following day we finished the last of our food so once more we had to stop at a mini market to replenish our supplies. It took another $15.00 to restock our meager portable pantry. After exiting the store I couldn't hide my anxiety and the girls began to realize we were running low on cash. As we walked along I again unsuccessfully tried to find work. Despite the warm and muggy day and our growing frustration we made good progress. After traveling 17 miles we camped by a stream. On our 8th day we crossed From Massachusetts into Rhode Island. There were few opportunities to earn any money and I wanted to cross the Sakonnet River inlet of Narragansett Bay. We traveled up Rhode Island state route 77 to a railroad bridge where we stopped for lunch. After squeezing through a chain link fence we clambering up a steep bank to reach the tracks. At first the girls were quite skittish as we walked out on the half mile long bridge. The cars whizzing past on the nearby limited access bridge made us glad we were on the railroad bridge. After we crossed the bridge the girls giggled when I told them we were on the island of Rhode Island. We followed the tracks until we found an abandoned signal shack where we made our camp. That day we trekked 16 miles. Early the next morning the girls screamed when a train whizzed past our shelter. I was glad they did since their combined squeals concealed mine. With our hearts pounding nearly out of our chests we hurriedly stumbled outside into the murky predawn. We followed the tracks down to the next bridge and squeezed out of the fence. Heading into a nearby mini market we spent the last of our money to replenish our supplies. The girls knew we were broke but sensed my worriment and wisely kept quiet. Heading onto Rhode Island state route 138 and crossed the 2 mile Narragansett Bay bridge. Thankfully the increasing late morning heat was broken by the breeze off the water. Halfway through our smooth trek up Conanicut Island we stopped for lunch. That afternoon in a stifling heat we crossed the mile and a half West Passage Bridge. Two hours later after traveling 14 miles we settled into a house under construction for the night. By the tenth morning we were almost like zombies. Apparently my growing despair over our financial insolvency was contagious since we spoke little as we trudged along. Silently we left state route 138 and began to travel along the famous coastal hugging route of US route 1. Despite our malaise we covered a fair distance. That night after a 17 mile hike we made our camp in Burlingame State Park. The campfires and joy of the other campers eased our depression. The campground public showers were quite a pleasant treat. The next day we simply abandoned our trek to rest and play in the park. We met other kids our age and forgot our troubles for a while. One of the mothers noted our meager lunch and invited us to join her family for the evening cookout. Hamburgers and hot dogs never tasted so good! It wasn't until our hunger was sated that I realized she'd watched us devour the spread she'd put out. When she said she'd like to meet our parents I realized she was afraid we were orphans or runaways. Fortunately I was able to signal the girls and we managed to fend her off. After making our thanks we headed back to our camp, gathered our things, and moved into the woodland away from the camping area. Sleep that night was restless as we jumped at every sound. Before dawn I roused the girls and we set out. As we trudged along the road we kept a sharp eye out for police. It wasn't until we crossed the border into Connecticut that we were able to relax. We ravenously devoured the last of our food. We all realized that if we didn't find someway for me to earn more money we'd have two choices. Become thieves or turn ourselves into the authorities. Since we were not quitters, we set out once more hoping for a miracle. Just after lunch and about a mile past the state border we smelled the most mouth watering aroma: donuts... cakes... pies... fresh bread! It wasn't difficult to spot the small bakery in the strip mall we were passing. Like moths to a flame we were drawn to the store. Standing outside we drooled while looking in the large display window at all the mouth watering goodies. It was then I realized what the line from the poem The Night Before Christmas meant when it says 'visions of sugar plumbs danced in their heads'. When I saw my drooling sisters my heart fell. Without any money there was no way we could afford anything. Still salivating, I told the girls to wait while I went inside to see if I could work for some of the treats. Going in I asked the smiling man behind the counter if I could talk to the manager. "I'm the manager," he said. "What can I do for you?" "We just moved here," I lied. "My mother had to go to work this morning but we didn't have a chance to pick up any food and she didn't leave any money to get some. I was wondering if you had anything I might do for you in exchange for a few donuts." Enticed by the aromatic smells the twins drifted inside until one stood on each side of me... their will to follow my orders overcome by temptation. I smiled weakly and put my arms about them. "These are my sisters," I said as we all looked pleadingly at him. "Well, I really don't need any help," he stated as a look of hardness filled his face. "I never give anything away." Then his expression softened as he saw our crestfallen response. "But since you offered to work for your goodies I'll see what I can find for you to do." he added with a smile. "Wait here girls." With that he went into the back. I couldn't believe it. Finally someone who'd give me work! Maybe I should've had the girls with me when I'd asked others for work. Meanwhile the girls burst into giggles. "Knock it off," I snarled while looking at them and sternly. "He'll throw us out if you don't settle down. What's so funny anyway?" "He thinks you're a girl," Teri giggled. "Didn't you hear him call us GIRLS when he told us to wait?" She and Lyndi resumed giggling but this time much more softly. The truth of her words hit me hard as I blushed. I had been so excited by his offer of work that I completely overlooked his inclusion of me as one of girls! While the girls continued to titter I numbly absorbed that not so little detail. "t first I tried to figure out how I'd overlooked his innocent declaration of my apparent girlishness. It was totally out of character for me to miss anything that remotely questioned my boyishness. Although I severely chastised myself I quickly rationalized away my not noticing his comment to my anxiety and the stress of our situation. Then my thoughts moved to how I could straighten him out as to my true gender. Before I could think more than that I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Well young lady, if you and your sisters will dust and sweep my storeroom I'll see you get enough goodies to last a few days. Fair enough," he asked as he looked into my face. "S... s... sure we'll do it," I stammered so delighted with his offer and the savory temptation of the promised goodies that I momentarily forgot all about correcting his misconception. Then as my boyish indignation resurfaced his kindly smile made me decide to keep his error a secret. "Good," he declared. With that he led us into the back where he gave us brooms and rags so we could get to work. The girls were still giggling about my 'girlhood' when he returned carrying a tray on which he had three donuts and three cups of soda. "Here's a little advance on your pay," he stated with a smiled before returning to the front counter. We dove into the snack with gusto. Everything seemed fine with the world as we filled ourselves with the sweet treats. As we ate the delicious food I saw the happiness in my sisters and I thought about what had happened. It was very sobering to realize this man probably wouldn't have helped us if he'd thought I was a boy. All my life I'd seen but never thought too much about how adults treated girls differently than they treated boys. Girls were seen as weaker and people were a lot more sympathetic towards girls than they were towards boys if they were in similar circumstances. Even my sisters and I had always lived by society's code: girls were cute and adorable while boys were crude and rough. This new understanding forced me to analyze how I had approached the people I'd asked for work. My eyes were opened as I realized I'd had a swagger in my step while trying to show I was man enough to handle any job. Those people were obviously put off by my tough guy image. I shuddered at the revelation and rubbed my contented tummy. All my life I'd had to fight to prove I was a boy so people wouldn't dump on me for thinking I was a sissy! Now I realized that people had been dumping on me because they thought I was a guy! That certainly was a bizarre twist of fate. Looking at my sisters as they contentedly licked their lips I began to understand my effeminate appearance could, for the first time in my life, be of benefit to us. After all, by outward appearances we were dressed virtually alike and even had our hair back in ponytails. The fact my ponytail was at the nape of my neck while theirs were high atop the back of their heads made little difference. Perhaps if people assumed I was a girl they'd be more willing to help us. As I finished off my jelly filled donut I determined not to dispute anyone who assumed I as a girl... but to appease my insulted boyishness I vowed not to tell anyone I was a girl. If they made the mistaken assumption that I was a girl it'd be their fault not mine. In this way I preserved my male pride. Looking at the girls I quietly told them my conclusion and made them promise not to reveal my true sex if anyone made the mistake of thinking I was a girl. Thankfully they understood and agreed... but they continued to snicker. After finishing our snack we set to work and quickly had the room spotless. "Well, you've certainly done a good job," the manager stated after inspecting our work. "I knew I could depend on three girls to do a good job cleaning. It must be in your blood." While I cringed at his reference to cleaning being a feminine domain I realized exactly what a male chauvinist was. It shamed me to realize I'd been one. "Let's go up front for your pay," the manager stated. Our mouths watered with anticipation as we watched him approach his 'day old' display. "I can give you twice as much if I take it from this counter," he suggested affably. "Is that okay?" We all nodded enthusiastically as he smilingly placed two dozen donuts, three leaves of bread, a dozen large cookies and a cherry pie into the bag. "Thank you very much," I told him as I accepted the bag. "Thanks a lot," the twins added in unison as we left the smiling man. Once outside, we sat on a bench and dove into the donuts... and discovered a crisp ten dollar bill on top. I looked back towards the bake shop manager as he stood smiling in the doorway of his shop. I waved a thank you which he returned. I had to smile... it seemed my being mistaken for a girl wasn't going to be too bad at all. This revelation somewhat mollified my insulted boyhood. Next door to the bakery was a grocery store. With our hunger sated I looked across the parking lot seeing older people with canes and young mothers with two or three children struggling to get their bags into their cars. An idea sprang into my mind. I told the girls and they enthusiastically agreed to give it a try. We placed the seabag and our bag of goodies in the corner of the shopping cart holding area then stood at the store's exit and offered to help the heavily laden shoppers carry their bags to their car. We spent the rest of the day earning smiles and thanks from all we'd helped... and tips ranging from a quarter to a few dollars. By the time night fell and the grocery closed we'd earned $47.00. Added to the $10.00 the baker had given us we now had $57.00. For the first time in days we were elated. Now we knew we could earn money. The conversations we had with the people were interesting too. As darkness fell we moved to the back of the mini mall and made a shelter out of cardboard boxes. Wearily we settled down for the night. We'd only covered 11 miles that day but I felt we'd traveled a long way. Snuggled against me the girls promptly fell asleep but I was restless. With the rush of activities finally over I couldn't help but think about what I'd learned. This day's experiences had been quite sobering. As we had helped carry the groceries I determined to experiment a bit with how people perceived me. Everyone I'd approached with the macho swagger I'd used earlier in our trip when asking for work had refused my offer of assistance. Nearly everyone I had approached without any boyish airs accepted my offer. The way people reacted to and treated me was directly related to how I was perceived. When they thought I was a boy I was deemed threatening and untrustworthy. When they thought I was a girl they thought me honest and helpful. For the first time I questioned my stubborn insistence that being a boy was better than being a girl. Still, old ways of thinking die hard and I felt belittled that I had allowed myself to be mistaken for a girl. However I realized the benefits of being mistaken for a girl outweighed my injured machismo. This reinforced my earlier decision to let people mistake me for a girl. In an effort to salve the boyish guilt I felt at this decision I vowed never to tell people I was a girl. Since the grocery opened early we went inside to wash up in the rest room before purchasing sorely needed supplies. The girls grabbed my arm and dragged me inside the ladies restroom. Since there was already a woman inside, I really couldn't object or I'd make a scene. The woman merely smiled at us before she left. Knowing how I'd always struggled to avoid appearing to be a sissy the girls giggled themselves out of breath to see me pretending to be a girl. Anger briefly flared in my insulted boyish soul but the irony of the situation made me join them. I did warn them not to pull such a trick on me again. After we'd completed our shopping we headed back to the parking lot for a brief breakfast of donuts and orange juice. The girls wanted to stay and earn more money but I explained we had to keep moving and couldn't afford to spend more than a day in any place. After a light breakfast we once more returned to our odyssey. We only made 8 miles that day. Oh, I intended to go further but our path led us by Mystic Seaport. For anyone who loves the sea, Mystic is a place you cannot simply walk past. The ships and history on display are a sea buff's nirvana. We stood at the entrance to the port/museum/town drooling as we looked over the railings at the sights we could not afford to see. "It's a marvelous place," a kindly voice declared from behind us. Turning about we saw a smiling woman and a man we assumed was her husband. They appeared to be in their sixties. The girls politely nodded their heads and turned to look back at the ships. "It does look like an interesting place," I agreed as I stepped protectively behind my sisters while keeping a wary eye on the couple. "It looks like you've traveled a long way to get here," the woman declared as she eyed our clothes and the seabag. "Are your parents getting tickets?" "They're parking our car," I replied a bit too hastily as I placed a hand on the girl's shoulders before scooping up the seabag. "Come on girls, let's go find mom and dad." "I don't think you're going to find your parents here," the woman stated as she firmly hooked my arm. "Unless my instincts are wrong you're here alone." My heart climbed to my throat as I struggled to think of a way out of this burgeoning disaster. "Look lady, just let us go," Teri declared as she bravely eyed the woman. "Yeah, we haven't hurt anything," Lyndi added. "Well, a couple of spitfires," the woman chuckled as she released my arm. Then she looked into my eyes. "Young lady, I'll tell you what. If without any hesitation you can look me in the eye and tell me you're not runaways I won't call the security guards." My boyishness objected to once more being mistaken for a girl but I hoped it would again be to our benefit so I didn't hesitate. "We are not runaways," I stated firmly as I looked deeply into her eyes. "I believe you," the woman replied with a softer smile. "But I still think you're here alone. It's quite dangerous for girls your age to be alone. Do your parents know you're here?" "Mom does," I answered softly as I thought of her in heaven keeping an eye on us. "Mom's busy working," Teri cut in. "She told Lyndi and I to listen to Kris." "I take it you two are twins," the woman declared as she looked at the identical girls with a big smile. "You must be Kris. It's a big responsibility for a girl your age to watch out for her younger sisters." "I do all right," I replied with more certainty than I felt. "We've got to get going," I added as I once more attempted to usher the twins away. We almost made it to the street before the man caught up with us. "Kris, please wait," he called out as he placed a hand on my shoulder. There were guards watching us so I stopped and turned to face the man. The uncertain twins gathered behind me. "My name is Frank Spade," he told us. "You've met my wife Sarah. Please let me apologize for frightening you. We're retired teachers and we've always had a soft spot children... especially polite children such as you. We're just concerned about your safety." "Frank, you're hopeless," Mrs. Spade declared as she joined him. "Look, girls, we never had children of our own and since we've retired we miss having children about. We can see you're not able to afford going inside so we'd like you to join us." "Really," Teri excitedly exclaimed. "That would be neat," Lyndi added joyously. "It sounds like fun," I said. "But we couldn't ask you to pay our way." "We understand," Mr. Spade laughed as he placed a hand on my back. "But you didn't ask, we offered. Now, no more arguments. If we don't get in soon we won't have time to see everything." That was it. Minutes later our seabag was safely stored in a check room and we were scampering down the shell covered walkways to the various exhibits. The afternoon sped by as we examined the rope maker's shop, the sea outfitter, the museums, and the old ships. We even had a picnic on the wooden wharf by the lighthouse. Frank and Sarah didn't ask any more questions about our parents or where we lived. We simply enjoyed each other's company. We all learned a lot that day. I learned that being mistaken for a girl wasn't nasty. I didn't have to even try to act like a girl. All I did was relax and be myself. It was nice not having to worry about keeping up a tough image. When stayed in the exhibit area until closing time when the Spade's politely but forcefully refused to just let us go on our way. They insisted on taking us home. When I told them we were camping out on our own they just looked at me. There piercing gaze made me wilt. "Look, please believe me," I begged them. "Our mother knows where we're at but she can't be reached right now. If you contact the police we'll probably wind up separated in foster homes. Mom's a good woman and does her best to take care of us. It's just not easy. Please, don't turn us in." The Spade's realized I wasn't going to break so they turned to my sisters. Looking at the twins they had them look right into their eyes to tell them we were not runaways. When the girls did so without blinking the couple exchanged knowing looks. "You're homeless aren't you," Mr. Spade softly asked in a non threatening manner. "Yes," I answered not able to lie but hoping I'd learned enough about this couple to at least partially trust them. "But mom told us we'd have a home by the time school starts. Please, just let us go." "I don't feel good about this," Mrs. Spade told us. "Your mother isn't even around right now, is she?" "She shipped out to sea as a cook," Teri explained. "We've been taking care of ourselves for almost two weeks now. We'll be all right until she gets back." "Two weeks," Mr. Spade declared as he looked at us in amazement. "You are something special... but we really should notify the authorities." "Frank, you're scaring the girls again," Mrs. Spade cut in when she saw the look of horror on our faces. "Kris is right about their being split up into foster homes. Their mother will probably be jailed when she gets back. Even though I don't agree with what is going on, Kris is obviously handling the situation and her sisters are cooperating. Their behavior today was marvelous so I think that so far their mother has done a good job in raising them. I think we should help the girls without interfering. This is a case of the less we know, the better off we are. Remember what happened to the Reese family." "Okay, you're right," a much chagrined Mr. Spade agreed. The girls and I exchanged looks of confusion. Mr. Spade had turned pale when his wife mentioned the Reese family. "It'll be all right, Frank," Mrs. Spade said as she hugged her distraught husband. Then she pleadingly looked at us. "Please, come spend the night with us on our boat." The girls and I immediately perked up at the mention of their boat. We were unable to hide our enthusiasm at spending the night on a boat. "Okay," I replied softly sensing there was a lot more to their concern for us than had been revealed. I somehow understood they needed us more than we needed them. No one spoke as we walked across the US route 1 drawbridge bridge over the Mystic River and then to a marina. After walking out on a short pier we boarded a sleek sailboat. Mr. Spade had regained his composure by the time we settled into seats inside the main cabin. "Two years ago we were teaching in an elementary school," Mrs. Spade began to explain. There were three sisters in the school, the Reeses. They were much like you, polite, caring and looking out for each other. Their father had disappeared and their mother began working as an exotic dancer. Most of the teachers, Frank and I included, were appalled to think how such a job would negatively impact those sweet girls. Finally we decided as a group to notify Children's Services. They took the girls and split them in different foster homes. In less than a week the oldest girl was molested by her foster father. She just curled up into a ball and hasn't spoken since. The mother was so distraught she shot and killed the man who'd molested her daughter. She's in jail now, the oldest girl is in a mental institution, and the younger girls are still living in separate foster homes." "All of the teachers felt guilty," Mrs. Spade continued. "But it was worse for Frank. He was the one who filed the report. We retired at the end of that year, sold everything, bought this boat, and have been sailing ever since. We've tried to enjoy ourselves but it's all just been an empty shell... until today. When we saw you... you reminded us of the Reese girls. We didn't have a choice but to see if we could do anything for you." We were all crying by then. Mr. Spade more so than any of us. Needless to say we spent the night on the sailboat. The girls wanted me to tell the Spade's we were heading for our grandma's home in Maryland. I refused explaining that either the Spade's would take us there out of guilt or they'd feel forced to turn us into the authorities. They understood our family pride simply wouldn't allow us to accept the amount of charity taking us to grandma's would entail nor could we let the Spades add to their already tremendous burden of guilt. The girls fell asleep to the gentle sway of the boat riding on the gentle swells. I soon joined them in slumber land. My dreams were disturbing... I wasn't masquerading as a girl... I actually was a girl. I pictured my sisters and I as the Reese girls. I was the oldest. I was the one molested. I was the one curled into a fetal position in a mental hospital. Awakening from the nightmare I discovered I was sweated and shivering. The thought of being molested felt like a stake being driven through my heart. Being a girl wasn't as nice as it appeared. Then and even more horrifying concept occurred to me. If we were discovered to be orphans and caught while I was masquerading as a girl and then sent to a foster home. Some man might try to molest me and discover I was really a boy! That turned my stomach. Needless to say I got very little sleep that night. In the morning we washed up in the small bath and joined the Spades for the first warm breakfast we'd had in months. Although I now hated and feared my unwanted disguise I was trapped being a girl. There was no way I could suddenly tell the Spade's I was really a boy. They'd be so shocked they'd probably turn us into the authorities. I vowed to never again let myself be mistaken for a girl once we left the Spades. As we ate they tried to get us to tell them where we planned to live once our mother returned but each time we politely clamed up. Understanding we were not going to reveal our plans they insisted we at least allow them to buy us new clothes. Our clothes were pretty threadbare. At first we refused but seeing they wouldn't give up I finally gave in agreeing to let them get us two outfits each. My stomach churned with nervousness. I knew that since the Spades thought I was a girl we'd be shopping solely for girls clothes. Knowing there really wasn't much difference in the clothing for boys and girls in my size range I figured I'd just make sure the outfits I got would allow me to look like a boy. The rest of the morning was spent in the shops of Mystic. Mr. Spade usually stayed outside to take in the sights while Mrs. Spade took inside. How I envied his masculine disdain for shopping as I had no choice but to feign the same delight the girls exhibited while shopping. The girls giggled at my discomfort as we selected new underwear. They insisted we only get pink cotton panties with delicate pink lace about the legs and waist. I glared at them but that only made them giggle more. Fortunately Mrs. Spade thought our interplay was simple girlish exhilaration about shopping. I really could think of no way to object to the prissy selections my sisters made. After purchasing the panties we stepped into a restroom to put them on. After skimming out of our worn jeans and sneakers the girls dropped their frayed undies in the trash and eagerly slipped into their new lace trimmed panties. Then they turned to watch me as I turned my back to them and reluctantly removed my worn out jockey shorts. With a deep breath I quickly slipped on the panties. Inside my head my boyishness screamed in outrage. Teri and Lyndi mischievously grabbed my discarded jockey shorts and before I could react quickly tore them apart in a short tug of war. The tattered remnants of my most intimate boyish apparel ended up in the trash atop my sister's discarded panties. My stomach churned as I realized I was stuck in pink panties for the foreseeable future. My boyish pride wanted to scream in outrage. My sisters wisely slipped on their jeans and exited the restroom before I exploded. Left alone I didn't have much time to bemoan my fate as Mrs. Spade knocked on the door to ask if I was okay. Quickly I dressed. Much to my chagrin I had to admit the panties actually felt comfortable... more comfortable than wearing jockey shorts. My worn jeans hid the sissy pink panties from my offended sight which somewhat mollified my macho indignation. Our next stop was for new shirts... or as it turned out new blouses. Once more the girls relished flaunting my girlish disguise in front of Mrs. Spade knowing I couldn't object or retaliate. "Krissy, what color do you want," Teri mischievously asked as she held out what I thought at first was a brightly colored T-shirt. Again my boyish irritation almost exploded upon hearing Teri call me Krissy. She was going too far. My outrage fizzled and my mouth dropped open in shock once I saw what she held. What she'd picked from the rack certainly wasn't a regular T-shirts. She held a girlish cotton top with French-cut sleeves. The sleeves, neck, and waist hems were edged with matching lace scallops. The choice of colors were pink, lavender, or yellow. "Why'd you pick these," I hissed at her. "I can't wear these... and don't call me Krissy!" "But Krissy, these are just so cute," Lyndi exclaimed aloud attracting Mrs. Spade's attention. Once more my sisters succeeded in trapping me into getting something obviously girlish. "You'll look cute in those," Mrs. Spade declared as she smiled happily at us. Her comment really irritated me because I knew she was probably right. I had little doubt the twins and I would look cute in those tops. I wound up choosing a lavender blouse. Mrs. Spade had us try them on and paid the clerk so we could wear them. As I looked in a mirror I became really depressed. Before I at least thought I looked somewhat like a long-haired guy. Now I definitely looked like a girl... a cute girl. My ragged shirt joined those of my sisters... in the trash. My vow to never allow myself to be mistaken for a girl would be virtually impossible to uphold. If anyone thought I was a boy... which wasn't likely... they'd assume I was a swishy sissy. My boyhood longed to cry out in rage. When my sisters saw my disheartened expression they hugged me. "At least we're still together," Teri whispered. "And we know you're our big brother... even if you do look like a girl... Krissy!" I winced as she once more called me Krissy but because Mrs. Spade was watching us. The expression on her face was one of delight in making us GIRLS happy so again I couldn't object. Looking so undeniably girlish and having my sisters teasing me by feminizing my name had my boyish emotions frazzled and ready to explode. The only consolation I had was that I knew the girls loved me. With no other option to express my roiling emotions I hugged the girls... tight enough to let them know they'd better cool it. As we rejoined Mr. Spade outside the store we looked for all the world like three sisters. He smiled happily. At the next store we bought new jeans... girls jeans. I was somewhat mollified to learn my resolve to get girls clothes that would allow me to appear to be a boy was at least partly doable. There was little difference between girls and boys jeans and the girls wisely selected regular jeans. Other than continuing to call me Krissy the girls stopped teasing me. I was relieved when the same held true for our new sneakers... they could easily pass for boys sneakers. I did suffer one more humiliation before the shopping ordeal finished. Mrs. Spade bought us each a pink sweatshirt emblazoned with MYSTIC SEAPORT. We ate lunch in a nice restaurant, then headed back to the marina. Mr. Spade announced he was taking us out for a short sail in Long Island Sound. Never having had the opportunity to actually be under sail, we jumped at the chance. The afternoon slipped away in nautical bliss. I almost forgot I looked for all the world to be a cute girl like my sisters until Mrs. Spade insisted I restyle my ponytail to match my sisters. For the first time I experienced the bouncy swish of my hair as the ponytail swayed to my movements. It was quite an emasculating sensation yet it wasn't bad... in fact it felt nice. That night we once more slept in the cabin of the Spade's sailboat. Our idyllic interlude with this wonderful couple would end in the morning. Their itinerary called for them to move on. My thoughts and dreams were disturbed by my now nearly undeniable girlish appearance. How could I keep my vow to be a boy when at best I looked like a sissy? My boys underwear and shirts were trashed replaced by their girlish counterparts. What could I do? The next morning the Spade's again took us for breakfast. They asked once more if they could do anything more for us. We profusely thanked them for all they'd already done for us and we assured them they'd already done too much. We stood by the railing of the open drawbridge as their boat sailed through it. There were tears in all of our eyes as we waved a fond farewell. Their address was safely tucked in with grandma's letter. I promised to write them once we settled into our new home. They knew I would. Once they were out of sight, we once more set out on our odyssey. The main difference was that we now wore new clothes and each had a new spare outfit. The downside was that all our new clothes were undeniably feminine. Not only was I dressed completely as a girl... I looked like a girl... a cute girl. That morning my sisters insisted that I again tie my hair into a high bouncy ponytail like they wore. Wearing a lace edged cotton lavender blouse with French cut sleeves... how could I object. I was a bit miffed to discover that by wearing a high ponytail I didn't perspire as much and the back and forth swishing as we walked actually kept me cooler. It was yet another point that showed me girls had things easier than boys. Of course now I realize such a rationalization was merely a futile attempt to appease my insulted boyish machismo. I had no choice but to accept my apparent girlishness. No boy wants to be a sissy. Since my choices were to be a sissy or a girl... being a girl was the lesser of two evils... as long as no one discovered I was really a boy. I let the girls know how upset I was with them for their teasing and choice of outfits and they were suitably chagrined. Yet we all realized that now that I was almost forced to pretend to be a girl we were closer than ever. This made things easier. Our pace was easier than before and life just seemed better as we walked. I did our best to keep to the roads nearest the shore when there was a reasonable choice. During the next few days we settled into a routine of walking two days then spending a day earning money. Most of the places we stopped to earn money left us alone since we were polite and quiet although a few times we were asked to leave. We also took on almost any task to earn a few cents... from washing windows to raking newly cut grass. We gathered empty beverage bottles and cans as we walked and turned them in for the 5 cent deposits. Now that we were earning money we were able to eat better... sometimes in a fast food restaurant. Hamburgers and French fries never tasted so good! When the girls asked why we couldn't spend a few days in a particularly nice area I again explained to the girls that we couldn't stay too long in anyone place since someone might get suspicious and want to know where we lived. Afraid of being placed in foster homes we grew wary every time a policeman came near us. In the nine days after we left Mystic we traveled 100 miles and earned $80.00 more than we spent. We spent the 4th of July in a small town and partook in the festivities and enjoyed the fireworks as they exploded above the waters of Long Island Sound. My sisters and I continued to grow much closer during our trek... even though they constantly called me Krissy. Being called a girls name really didn't bother me anymore. After all, no one took me for a boy. Everyone we met thought I was a girl. It was just easier to go along with the flow. My boyish outrage settled into grim acceptance of my temporary girlhood. At least I wasn't wearing skirts! The only problem we faced was the growing urbanization as we neared New York City. There was less and less open space and thus less place to safely camp. The people grew less friendly and we began to fear the looks some of the older men gave us. The memory of the fate of the oldest Reese girl kept me wary. Thankfully at the time we really didn't know about sexual predators and how much danger we were in. Now those memories make me shudder. In the city of Stamford we began to see the gangs. I knew we'd never make it through New York. I led the girls to the bus station. Checking their rates I discovered I could get us tickets to New Brunswick, New Jersey with $20.00 left over. The only down side was we'd have to make a transfer and one hour layover at the New York Port Authority Bus Terminal. I hoped New Brunswick would take us out of the dangerous urban sprawl of New York City. In order to avoid any potential problems that might occur on the bus trip I made sure we sat right behind the driver. The bus was empty enough that we were able to comfortably sit in our seats. The bus ride from Stamford to New York City was uneventful. The girls were fascinated by the changing scenery as we moved steadily into the heart of the city. The number of trees and the amount of grass steadily declined until they seemed nonexistent. We'd been raised on Cape Cod where grass and trees were omnipresent. Now everything was concrete, glass, steel, and asphalt. The softness and warmth in which we'd grown had now been replaced by harshness and cold. It was almost a relief to pull into the vast underground bus terminal. As we exited the bus I made sure the girls held my hands. The first thing I did was find the location of our transfer bus. Then we headed out into the vast halls of the terminal to look around. People were everywhere. Scurrying here and there they seemed like swarming mindless ants whose nest had just been disturbed. To our benefit no one seemed to notice us. Never had I seen so many people so closely together and yet individually they seemed isolated and alone. I think we saw more people in our time in the Port Authority Terminal than we'd seen during our entire lives. We were glad to get on the bus to leave. The ride to New Brunswick was a relief as the concrete and steel once more gave way to trees and grass. The sun was setting by the time we stepped off the bus. Trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible we made our way to a park. We spent the night nestled beneath a large pine tree whose lower boughs touched the ground forming a hidden pine scented sanctuary with a soft bed of brown pine needles. It seemed like heaven compared to the harshness of the Big Apple. We slept peacefully and didn't realize it had started to rain until I poked my head out of our green nest. It wasn't a heavy rain but it was one of those light but steady storms that would last for hours. I was tempted to just spend the day in our hide away but then I noticed water beginning to trickle down the thick trunk. I knew our nest would soon become soggy. We packed our gear, covered ourselves with garbage bag ponchos, and crawled outside. We traveled along US route 1 for about 5 miles until we reached US route 130. As usual I led the way while the girls walked side by side behind me. By lunch we had made our way out of the urban sprawl. As we slogged along Teri stepped into a water filled puddle that was a five inch pothole. The unexpected depth caused her to stumble into me. While Lyndi grabbed her to keep her upright the unexpected blow caused me to careen onto the edge of the highway. An approaching tractor trailer blew his horn to warn me off the road. While I was already stepping back onto the berm the girls were startled by the load air horn blast. They both shrieked and jumped further to the side of the road. Lyndi's leap brought her past the gravel and sand berm onto the weedy edge of a drainage ditch. The large wet leaves of the weeds offered no foothold and she tumbled into the water filled ditch. She wasn't seriously hurt suffering just a few brush burns and bruises. The main problem was her garbage bag poncho was shredded. As I helped her out of the ditch she was crying and wet. Unfortunately we had no spare bags. Even though I was completed dressed as and looked like a girl I played the big brother I really was, gave her my bag, and we went on. While Lyndi was wet, the plastic bag retained her body heat and kept her warm. It didn't take long until I was soaked. Despite the fact it was July I was soon chilled and shivering. We traveled about 17 miles that day and made camp in a house under construction. It was still raining the next day as we set out again. I spent the last of our money to replenish our food and garbage bags. By noon the rain ended and we made better time. I didn't let the girls know I was chilled and feverish but they knew I was out of sorts. Our conversation that day was minimal. We traveled about 16 miles that day turning off US route 130 onto New Jersey State route 539. That night we camped beneath a stand of pines. I was cold and shivering all night. Thankfully the day was warm and sunny the next morning as we trudged along. The hot day kept me warm but I was running a slight fever. The girls knew I was sick but I stubbornly refused to admit it. Here I was, Kris O'Brien, the guy who struggled all his life to prove that I wasn't a wimp dressed and looking like a girl. My machismo kicked in and I set a blistering pace that covered 21 miles. About 4 in the afternoon the sky clouded. By 5 thunderstorms had formed. Despite the lightening and downpours I led the girls onward. The stifling heat of the day quickly dissipated in the cooling rain. Chills once more engulfed me as we slogged along. It was nearly dark and the girls were exhausted by the time we found a park with a covered pavilion and fireplace with plenty of dry wood. We lit a fire and made supper using the last of our food. The girls could see I was once more shivering. After we'd finished eating. I huddled next to the fire with the girls snuggled close but even that didn't stop my shivering. I finally fell into a nightmarish fevered sleep while the girls made sure the fire stayed burning into the night. In the morning, Teri shook me awake, "Krissy, are you okay," she asked with concern. "Sure," I said as I struggled to sit up. When I made it upright everything was spinning. Lyndi looked frightened and after reassuring herself that I was relatively okay she spoke quietly. "Is Mommy really dead?" Her question startled me... especially in my muddled state of mind. "Why do you ask that," I finally asked after an unnervingly long silence during which both girls stared at me. The expression on their faces was one of maturity and concern... a look I'd never seen before on their usually giggling faces. "You have a fever," Teri stated softly. "You were talking and mumbling all night. You asked Mommy why she had to die." Tears started flowing freely from both girls and I felt tears start in my eyes. When they saw my tears they knew the truth and jumped into my arms. We hugged and cried for a long time but even their warmth failed to stop the chills of my fever. As we cuddled I explained what had happened to our mother and why it was so important for us to get to grandma's. If anyone found us and knew Mom was dead, we'd be split into foster homes. When people began to arrive at the park the girls helped me up. Although I was still weak and fevered we set out. Teri carried the sea bag I'd lugged all this distance and Lyndi helped me walk. After a bit I grew dizzy, and lost track of time and direction. All I could think of was keeping my sisters with me and getting to Grandma's. I was completely disoriented. I have no idea how long or far we traveled. Totally disoriented and struggling to stay on my feet I stumbled onto the road and fell. Suddenly a horn blared. I snapped out of my stupor long enough to hear my sisters scream and hear the horrible squealing of car brakes. I was on my hands and knees on the roadway with a car hurtling towards me while Lyndi was trying to help me stand as Teri stayed on the berm with the seabag. I have no idea where I found the strength but somehow I managed to push Lyndi off the road. I guess it must have been