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Bikini Beach: A Punk's Story By Ellie Dauber Copyright 2000 By the time we came back after the Memorial Day break, the school year's just about over. Sure, there were a couple weeks left -- and the exams, but who worries about them? Me, I was thinking about the summer, three months to have fun and raise hell. It looked like the fun was starting early. It was just a couple of days after we got back. I was walking around, looking for Bill Gerhart. Bill was just a guy I knew, but he said that he had an idea that could make us both some money. I was about to give up on him and see if I could find anybody else that might have something going, when I heard somebody call my name. "Frankie! Frankie D, wait up!" It was Felicia Ormand. She was one hot babe, dressed in a short white dress that was short enough to give a real good look at those long legs of hers and tight enough to show off her luscious curves. And believe me, I looked. She flashed me a smile, and I wondered what else she could do with those lips -- and tongue -- of hers. "Hey, Felicia," I said. "What's up?" "You are, I think," she said with a giggle looking down quickly at my crotch. I was surprised. That didn't sound like the "good girl" that Felicia usually was. Maybe she'd decided to stop acting like such a prim little stuck-up. "I was wondering if you could maybe do me a little favor." "A favor? Sure, I'd be glad to." Nothing like having a babe owe you a favor. "My, umm, car's stuck in the shop, and I was wondering if you could maybe give me a lift someplace after school." "No problem. Where you going?" "You know that water park, Bikini Beach? I'd like a lift over there." "Yeah, sure. I've been meaning to check the place out anyway." That was for sure. If the girls there were half as pretty as the ones in the ads, it was a place any red-blooded guy would want to be. Felicia smiled like she'd just won something. Damn! I always figured that she wanted me. Maybe I'd been right. "Tell you what," she said, "I'm a member. You take me out there, and I'll treat you to a pass." "You're on. Meet me in the north lot after school." She _definitely_ wanted me. "Okay, see you then." She hurried off. I stood watching her ass sway until she turned a corner. Then I went to find Gerhart. The little creep owed me twenty bucks. * * * * * It was a short drive to Bikini Beach. As I drove through the afternoon traffic, I kept an eye on Felicia. Some girls are impressed -- maybe even turned on a little -- by the way a guy handles a car. It makes them wonder how they are at handling other things, if you know what I mean. She was looking at me real weird, like she had something in mind. I was hoping that it was to have some "fun" together in the park -- or maybe on the ride home after. After a while, though, her smile began to get to me. It was like she had some kind of secret, and it was a secret that I _wasn't_ gonna like. I pulled into an empty spot near the entrance. Felicia was out of the car almost before I stopped. "I'll be right back," she said and ran over to the gate. When you live in an oceanfront town -- and, especially, if you like to party -- you keep a spare pair of trunks and a towel in your car. I got mine out and started towards the gate. She was back over in a minute, carrying something in her hand. "Here it is," she said, handing me a pen and a purple piece of cardboard about the size of a playing card. "I got you a pass. Just sign your name, and we can go in." I looked at the pass. "One Week Pass To Bikini Beach Issued To" with a line for my name. "One week," I said. "That's a lot for one little favor." It _was_ generous. Maybe I was wrong to be suspicious of her. "Oh, believe me," she said. "It's not half of what you deserve." "Okay," I said and signed my name. I guess I really had impressed her. She wanted me -- _bad_. We went into the park. The girl at the gate was a very pretty redhead a few years older than me. She greeted Felicia by name and smiled when I flashed my pass. This place just got better and better. Felicia headed to the Women's Locker Room to change. I headed to the Men's. It was a lot smaller. 'Good,' I thought. 'Less guys means less competition.' I found an empty locker and changed into my surfer's "baggies." I looked pretty good in the mirror near the door. I'm not tall, but I work out with weights, so I'm in good shape, lean with a lot of toned muscles. "Look out, Felicia," I said out loud and tried the door. It was locked; some kind of electronic lock from the look of it. For a second, I thought about the set of lockpicks hidden in the trunk of my car. Then I noticed the sign on the door. "Please remember to shower before leaving locker room" and below it in smaller print, "Health Department Regulation." 'Cute,' I thought. 'The door's rigged not to open until the showers run. Okay, I'll play.' I walked over and turned on one of the showers. It felt real good, like that shower massager Angie Torrantino had at her house. I thought about Angie, and about what we'd done a couple of times in that shower, and I felt my trunks get a little tight. 'Down, boy,' I thought. 'Save it for when you're alone with Felicia.' I closed my eyes and let the shower hit my shoulders and back for a minute. I turned off the shower and headed back for the door. 'No sense keeping Felicia waiting,' I thought. I noticed that my body was tingling all over -- kind of like that feeling you get when your leg goes to sleep. It seemed to be the worst in my chest and my groin. I felt something wet slide down along my neck, and my hips -- well, "hurt" isn't _quite_ what it felt like. All of a sudden, I seemed to be walking kind of funny, too. I figured that I must have stayed too long in the shower, but it had only seemed like a couple of minutes. I got a surprise when I got near the door. A girl was standing there topless, wearing only a high-cut green and gold bikini bottom that made her legs look even longer. She looked Italian -- in fact, she looked a lot like my cousin, Rosa, only my age, not 12. She had beautiful dark eyes and full lips. Her dark brown hair was a wet tangle of curves that hung down past her shoulders. She had a great figure, too, but those tits -- those beautiful tits. They were 36-C, maybe -D even, pillowy things with dark nipples that just begged to be played with. I stared at the girl for a moment and saw her lick her lips and stare back at my own chest. I looked down. Holy shit, what were _her_ tits doing sticking out from _my_ chest? I'd been looking in a mirror. I was the girl. "You can wear this top today," a voice said, "but I'd suggest that you wear a one-piece suit the next time you come." I spun around. There was a short, elderly woman standing there holding a green and gold bikini top that it perfectly matched the bikini bottom that my "baggies" had somehow become. Felicia was standing next to her in a smoke gray tankini, a tank-topped bikini, with the same weird smile as before. "Surprise," she said. I grabbed the top and put it on. After I got it on, I realized how easily I'd done that. "What did you do to me," I insisted. "And why?" "Let's just say that it's something I owed you from a previous life," Felicia said. "This place is for women only." She gestured at the old woman. "This is the owner, by the way. The only way that a guy can get in is by changing into one." "So when I leave, I change back?" "Sorry," the old lady said. "The change is for the length of the pass, plus a few hours." "A week! I can't be a girl for a week. You better change me back, lady. When my Pop finds out, he'll come out here with a few of his friends and --" "Do absolutely nothing," the old lady said confidently. "Tell me, dear, what's your name? Your full name." "My name? Okay, I'm Francesca Maria -- no, that's not right. It's Francesca, Fran...ces...ca...Ma...ria. You stop this, lady. I'm a girl, not a girl, darn it. Francesca -- oh, the heck with it." "You're Francesca Maria now, Frankie. In fact, as far as everyone except the three of us -- and my granddaughter, Anya, of course -- is concerned, you've _always_ been Francesca Maria DiAntonio. For the next week, you'll live the life you'd have led if you'd been born a girl because, in this new reality, _that's_ exactly what happened." "Be happy that it's just for a week, Frankie," Felicia said. "For a while, I was thinking about buying you a lifetime pass." "L-Lifetime? That would mean that I'd - why, Felicia? What did I do to you that was so bad? We hardly know one another." "Like I said, Frankie, it's something I owe you from a previous life." "You mean you -- you wasn't always you." "Very good, Frankie. I knew you weren't as dumb as you looked when you were a boy. You got me -- the old me -- in a lot of trouble. It wasn't your fault that I was changed, but it wouldn't have happened if the old me hadn't been stupid enough to listen to you." "So, then, you changed me to get even for what happened to you." Revenge I could understand. "No, Frankie, in a strange way. I'm grateful. I'm a lot happier as Felicia. I thought I'd give you a chance at a better life, too." "A better life? As a broad? Forget it. Just let me get my clothes, and I am so out of here." "Very well," the old broad said. "Felicia, you'll have to dress, too." "Why?" we both asked at the same time. "Because in this new reality, Francesca doesn't have a car. It was Felicia that drove you both out here." "No car? What are you talking about? I worked hard to buy that car and keep it going." A lot of hard work...and not all of it legal. "Yes, dear, and at the sort of jobs that the new Frankie couldn't -- or wouldn't do. Get dressed and see for yourself, if you don't believe me." I ran back to the locker where I'd left my clothes. They were gone. There was clothes there all right -- girl's clothes. I thought I might have gotten the lockers mixed up, but hanging from the hook on the inside of the door was my St. Francis medal. Mama gave me that medal a month before -- before the cancer took her. I've worn it ever since. Okay, it was my locker; it had to be, but the clothes were different. I could even see a bra on the shelf inside. "Where are my clothes?" I said. "Frankie, dear, those are your clothes," Felicia said. "Why, I remember just a couple of weeks ago when we went shopping, and you bought that darling little blouse. You even said that I could borrow it sometime." She had that same satisfied grin on her face that she'd had when she handed me the pass. I looked at the old woman. "C'mon, lady, this has gone too far." "I don't believe that it has, Francesca," the old woman said, "but I can't stand here all day. I've a park to run. Either you get dressed and go home, or you come into the park. It's your choice." With that, she turned and walked out the door. "I still can't believe that you did this to me, Felicia! I thought you kind of liked me." "Actually, I do, Frankie. That's _why_ I did it. In this reality, we're good friends." She smiled, a friendly smile, and took my hand. I suddenly realized that she was taller than me now. As a boy, I had a six inches on her. "Look, you're already wet, and you're in a suit. Why don't you come into the park with me -- for a while, at least?" Pop always said, "When they've got you covered, there's no sense in fighting it." I shrugged. "Okay, but not for too long." * * * * * As much as I wanted to hate Felicia -- and the park -- I couldn't. It was just too much fun. Felicia took me -- okay, she dragged me -- to some kind of high waterslide. "The Pipeline", I think they called it. I've always liked those things, and the way it twisted and turned, this was one of the best I'd ever been on. I did find out why the old lady mentioned wearing a one-piece suit. I went under water at the bottom of the slide, and my bikini top surfaced a couple of feet away from where I did. I didn't even notice until Felicia giggled and pointed at it, then at my chest. I looked down, shrieked, then quickly looked around for the top. I swam over to where it was floating and hurriedly put it back on. Felicia came over laughing and showed me when -- and how -- to hold onto my top, so it wouldn't come off when I hit the water. I climbed back up to the top and slid down again. Sure enough, it stayed in place. We went down that slide a couple more times, then moved on to some of the others. There was even one. "Pele's Race" with six slides, so we could race each other to the bottom. We were climbing back up to have a second race, when I began to hear this nagging voice in the back of my mind. "Say, Felicia," I said aloud, "what time is it?" She looked at her watch, one of those fancy diver's watches, "Almost 5, why?" "I don't know. It suddenly seemed -- oh, gee, I've got to get home." I -- the real, the male me -- never had to worry about getting home from school. Pop always figured that I could take care of myself, and I'd come home when I got hungry. But now -- whatever craziness was going on -- _something_ was telling me that I _had_ to go home. Somebody was waiting for me, was expecting me to be there. It was a feeling that I just couldn't ignore. "Are you okay, Frankie?" Felicia looked at me like she was really concerned. "Yeah -- I guess. Felicia, I don't know why, but something -- something's telling me that I have to go home. Could you drive me there? Please?" "Sure, hon." Felicia smiled like she knew what was going on, but she didn't say a word. We climbed down from the slide's tower and headed back to the locker rooms. It seemed weird going into the Men's Lockers looking the way I did, but that _was_ where my clothes were. Only, they wasn't _my_ clothes; they belonged to some girl. My jeans were pale blue now, instead of dark blue, a feminine cut pair of jeans with white lace on the pockets. Somebody had even patched that rip on the pocket where I'd caught them on a nail. All of a sudden, I had a picture in my mind of me -- the new me -- sitting on a chair with my pants and a needle and thread. _I_ was the one who'd patched my pants. This was definitely took much to take, and I sat down on a bench to clear my head. Then I heard that voice in my mind again. "Go Home." I stood up and peeled out of my bikini as quickly as I could. I'd have liked to go over to the mirror; to take a good look at my new body. From what I'd seen before, I was really a babe. I thought about checking out the plumbing -- maybe taking the new bod for a quick "test drive", but that stupid voice kept saying, "No" and "Hurry." I sighed, watching my new boobs jiggle as I reached for a towel. Rushed as I was, I knew somehow that I should pat myself dry instead of rubbing like I was used to. I guess my new feminine skin was more sensitive. I reached into the locker and pulled out a pair of yellow cotton panties; my old boxers, I guess. 'Kind of plain-looking,' I thought. I'd seen a lot of girls in -- and out of -- their underwear, and most of them, especially the ones as pretty as I was now, wore fancier, sexier stuff than these. For some reason, I felt a little frustrated, like I wanted to wear prettier undies, and somebody wouldn't let me. But who? I shrugged and stepped into the panties, pulling them up around my hips. It was weird. I got out a matching bra and put it on almost without thinking. It was like I'd been wearing a bra for years. I certainly needed one with these big new breasts of mine. I sat back down on the bench and pulled on my jeans. I had to stand up and yank some to get them past my hips, though. I sat back down and put on a pair of light blue ruffled socks and a pair of medium blue sneakers. Yeah, just sneakers. I paid over 100 bucks for a pair of Nike cross-trainers, and now they were just a pair of regular girl's sneakers. Darn -- oh, my -- I just realized that I couldn't seem to curse any more. I still knew all the words. It just didn't feel right to be saying them. I took the St. Francis medal out of the locker. It seemed a little smaller now, and it was hanging from a silver chain instead of the leather thong I was used to. I sighed and put it around my neck, lifting my hair, so it went underneath. The medal hung down to just above my breasts. It probably looked kind of sexy with the ruffled white peasant blouse I put on next. The blouse didn't look anything like the WWF T-shirt it had been that morning. On an impulse -- I don't know where it came from -- I fixed the wide collar, so it was below my shoulders. Now I definitely looked sexy. I walked over to the mirror and turned posing. Man, I was hot! I saw myself smiling. A part of me wanted to be this sexy babe. Another part shuddered at the thought. Even so, I didn't pull the collar back up. There was a small purse in the back of the locker. Where had it come from? I took it out and hung it from my shoulder by the long strap. I reached in and pulled out a small tube of lipstick. I wasn't sure what to do, but my body seemed to know. I pursed my lips and moved the lipstick across them like a pro. A quick blot with a tissue from the purse, and I was ready to go. Felicia was waiting for me outside. Her clothes hadn't changed, though I don't know why they should have. She smiled when she saw me. "You look great in that blouse, Frankie. I just wish...." She stopped as if there was something more, but she didn't want to say it. "I wish you'd loan it to me sometime." As we walked towards the lot, I remembered that I'd left my book bag in my car. If the car was gone, were my books gone, too? I didn't think it would be much of a loss, except that I'd have to pay for them. "Right where I left it," Felicia said. Sure enough, her Chevy was parked in the spot where I'd left my car. We put our wet suits and towels in the trunk. My book bag -- same design, but pink now -- was there in her trunk, too. Felicia slammed the trunk lid and let herself into the locked car. She reached over and unlocked my door. I opened the door and sat down on the front seat. Then I shifted my feet into the car. 'Just like a girl,' I thought, as Felicia started the engine, and we drove off. About ten minutes later, we pulled up in from of my apartment building. I began to feel scared as I got out of the car. What was Pop going to say when he saw me like this? Felicia must have seen my expression. "Don't worry, honey," she said, reaching over to pat my hand. "Like Grandmother...that's what the lady at the park likes to be called...like Grandmother said, as far as anybody but you and me knows, you've always been a girl. Just relax and go with the flow." "Yeah, right," I said. I should still have been mad at her for what she'd done to me. Maybe it was magic; maybe it was just the shock of the change. I just didn't feel very mad. Felicia popped the trunk from inside the car, and I got out my stuff. "I'll try to call you later," she shouted as she drove off. "Just go with the flow, like I said, and everything will be fine. You'll see." A couple minutes later, I was letting myself into our apartment. 'At least now maybe I'll find out why I had to come home so early,' I thought. I looked around. The place still looked pretty much the way it had this morning. No, that picture of Mama wasn't on the table near the TV where it had always been. Instead, there was a picture of Pop, Nikki Sutton, and me. This me, the girl, only a couple of years younger. Pop had on a suit I didn't remember ever seeing him in before. Me and Nikki were wearing matching pale blue dresses. What was...? "Frankie, there you are. I was beginning to get worried." I spun around almost dropping the picture. Nikki Sutton was a dame Pop had been dating for a while, fairly steady, too. She was in her mid-thirties, but she had a figure that always made her look a lot younger, lots of tight, ripe curves in all the right places, and a mass of thick brunette hair that framed her face. She worked at Samuelsohn's Department Store, in the dress department, I think. She also did a little modeling for them sometimes. At least, that's how I remembered her. She still had those great breasts, but now she had quite a little beer belly on her. No, that wasn't it. She -- holy cow -- she was wearing a maternity blouse. She...she was pregnant! "Nikki, I, ah..." "I thought you said that you were going to try calling me 'Mom.'" She smiled and gently patted her belly. "You don't want to be confusing your new little brother or sister, do you?" "I...I'm sorry, umm, Mom. You, ah, startled me." "I guess we're even then. You had me going, too. You're almost never this late getting home from school." "I, uh, went swimming with Felicia Ormand." "Well, I suppose, on a hot day like this, it was okay, but you really should have called. I expect you home to help me with supper." Supper! Is that what was bothering me? I had to go home to be "Suzie Homemaker" with my -- my _pregnant_ stepmother? For that matter, how did my being a girl get me a stepmother in the first place? "I'm sorry," I said. "We, umm, were having so much fun that, well, I guess I lost track of time." "Well, you did manage to come home in time to help, so I suppose there's really no harm done." She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Go hang up your suit and towel. You can set the table, then make some salad. We're having baked chicken." "Okay," I said as I headed for the "guest" bathroom, just past the kitchen. There was a second bathroom in Pop's bedroom, so this one was mostly mine. It still was -- for the new me. There was a bunch of bottles, moisturizers, creams, and whatever on the counter, as well as a pink Lady Schick electric razor where my old straight razor had been. I looked in the medicine chest; more stuff I didn't recognize -- and a couple of things that I did, an opened box of Tampons and a bottle of Midol. 'Geez,' I thought, regretting my new inability to curse, 'I hope this change is over before my period starts.' There was a couple of pairs of pantyhose hanging from the shower rack. They was dry, so I took them down and hung up my towel and the two pieces of my bikini. I took the hose with me into my bedroom and tossed them onto my bed along with my book bag. My bed? _My_ bed didn't have four posts and a white canopy on top. This one did. I looked around the room. The picture of Mama was on my dresser, which was now painted white. There was a tray of make-up and one of those stand-up jewelry boxes on the two sides of it. There was a Backstreet Boys poster on the now pale blue wall where the nude Alyssa Milano poster had been. Bill Gerhart and I had downloaded the picture from some Internet site, printed up poster-sized copies, and sold them for fifty bucks each. My stereo system -- that stone system that I'd gotten with the profits -- was gone, too, replaced by a silly looking CD player with just a couple of speakers. Oh, yeah, and with an entirely different set of CDs, pretty boy bands that I would _never_ have listened to as myself. The room was a lot cleaner, too; no clothes anyplace. The closet door was closed, but the short pink robe that hung where my plaid bathrobe had been told me more than I really wanted to know about what was inside. Gosh, that old woman was thorough, and, boy, did I ever want to curse! "Hey, in there." Nikki was getting impatient. "You've got chores, remember." "Sorry," I said without thinking and hurried to the kitchen. "C'mon, hon," Nikki said. "Your dad'll be home soon. Get going on the table." I got three dishes out of the cupboard and put them around the table. Then, I folded paper napkins and put them by each dish, with a set of silverware on top of each napkin. It still didn't look right...glasses! I got three from the same cupboard as the plates and put one by each place. "All done," I said. "Not yet, you're not. You forgot the bread and butter. I just got fresh rolls. They're in that paper bag on the counter." There was a small straw basket in a corner by the toaster. I grabbed a cloth napkin from a drawer and opened it out over the basket. Then I tossed in the rolls, covered them with the ends of the napkin, and put it in the center of the table. I got the butter dish out of the fridge and put it, and a butter knife, near the rolls. 'Wait a minute,' I thought. 'How the he-heck did I know how to do that?' I could set a table, I guess. Everybody knows that; plate, napkin, knife, fork, spoon. But that business with the rolls, I -- the old me -- had never done anything like that. How had I known what to do and where everything was? Worse, maybe, why did I feel a sense of satisfaction about doing it? "Hey, kiddo, there's still work to do. The peas should be done. Drain 'em and get 'em to the table." Peas? I looked over to the stove. There was a covered pot on one burner, a whisp of steam leaking out from under the lid. I didn't know what to do, but my body did. I took the pot to the sink. There was a colander -- and don't ask me how I knew the name of the thing -- in the dish rack. I put it in the sink and carefully poured in the peas. While the water all drained out, I put on a couple of oven mitts that were hanging on a hook and got a serving bowl out of the dish rack. Two minutes later, the bowl of peas was in the center of the table melting the three pats of butter I'd put on them. Nikki was taking the chicken out of the oven, when I heard the front door open. "Hey, what smells so good?" Pop was home. I braced myself for the explosion when he saw what had happened to me. It never came. "He walked into the kitchen and over to Nikki. "A beautiful wife _and_ baked chicken; what more could a guy ask for?" He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "How about a lovely daughter?" Nikki said. "Frankie was her usual big help." "I know, I know," he said with a smile. "How are you, Cara?" Then -- so help me -- he leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. The kiss was bad enough, but did he have to call me "Cara"? It was a traditional nickname for girls in my family. Now, I was struck with it for the week. How was I? I was mortified. Then it got worse. "Hi, Daddy," I said. _Daddy_! What was I saying? "Go wash up, Dom," Nikki said. "Dinner will be ready in a minute." Pop left. Nikki used a pair of tongs to move the chicken onto a serving platter. Then she moved the oven rack and took out some potatoes that had been cooking on it. Pop came back in just as Nikki put the platter on the table. I put the tray on the table. Nikki whispered "Thanks" under her breath, and we sat down to eat. Dinner was dinner. What else can you say? Nikki was a good cook. Pop asked some questions about how I was doing in school, and I gave him the same, "Okay, I guess" answer that I did on those rare occasions in the past when he asked the old me about school. Then he asks how I'm doing about getting a summer job. A job? My plans for the summer, the ones I had when I was a boy, were to hang out and see what sort of interesting trouble I could find, maybe look for a fast buck or two. I was still thinking that way, I guess. Felicia said I'd only be a girl for a week. That meant that I'd be a boy again right about the time school ended. "Nothing definite," I said, deciding to just go along with whatever he asked about a job. "Nothing definite," Pop says. "I thought that friend of yours -- what's her name, oh yeah, Felicia. I thought Felicia had something lined up for you." "Felicia?" Well, she'd said we were friends in this new reality. "Yeah, Felicia Ormand. She was gonna get you a job with her father's company or something." "No, Dom," Nikki said. "Frankie, didn't you say something about getting a job at that water park her friend Felicia belongs to. "Say, is that why you were out at that park with her today; to talk to them about a job?" "A job -- at Bikini Beach?" I almost choked on the piece of chicken I'd been eating. "Hey, wait a minute," Pop said. "I don't want my little girl walking around all summer in a bikini, showing herself off and giving the boys ideas." "It's not that kind of a place," I said, surprising myself. "It's a park for women only. There'd be no boys there to see me." What was I saying, and why did the idea of _not_ being seen by boys make me feel just a little disappointed? "They'd better not. I raised you up to be a good girl, and I want you to stay that way." He paused for a moment. "You sure there's no boys at that place?" "Not a one," I said. At least not after they showered. What was going on? It was like I _wanted_ to work there. And why was Pop being so protective? "Dom," Nikki said. "I've heard about this place. Frankie's right. It is only for women. The owner's an old lady who built it as a place where women could go and _not_ get leered at by men. I've met her and her granddaughter at the store. I sold the granddaughter a couple of blouses just last week. They seem like real nice people." "Well, if you like them, Nikki," Pop said, "they must be okay. It's just -- you know how I feel about Frankie. She's a good girl, and I want her to stay that way. I promised...Gina." Nikki reached across and took Pop's hand. "I know you did, Dom, and I love you for what you've done to keep that promise, but Frankie's a big girl now. You can trust her." "I do -- I trust you, Cara," Pop said to me. Then he frowned. "It's the boys I don't trust." "C'mon, Dom, remember back to when you were a boy Frankie's age." "I do, Nikki, love," he laughed. "That's _why_ I don't trust them." Nikki made a sour face. Then she giggled and squeezed his hand. * * * * * After dinner, Nikki and I cleared the table and put the leftovers away. Pop put on a plain white apron, rolled up his sleeves, and did the dishes. I think that was as surprising as anything -- and I mean _anything_ -- that had happened that day. When I was a boy, in the old reality, he wouldn't wash a plate until he couldn't find a clean one. I went into the living room to watch "Sports Beat", a half-hour local show. Nikki came in and sat down next to me. "Is there a problem, Frankie? You usually start on your homework right after dinner." "The year's almost over; we -- I've got no homework." Actually, I did, but just a few problems from the business math course I was taking, simple stuff." "Then there's more time to study for the finals coming up." Finals? Yeah, they were coming, but who cared? "I've got plenty of time to start studying." "What's the -- oh, I understand. It's just after 7. If he hasn't called you by 7:30, you go hit the books. Deal?" "Deal." I didn't know what else to say. 'He?' I thought. 'He who?' Great, that crazy spell not only turned me into a girl; it sounded like it had given me a boyfriend, too. I tried not to think about it, but "Sports Beat" didn't seem to be as interesting as it usually was. I surfed through the channels and stopped at "Wheel of Fortune." It was a cute game, and I just loved the dress that Vanna -- aww, why was I thinking like that? I closed my eyes for a minute, then worked real hard concentrating on trying to solve the puzzle. I almost had it when the phone rang. "Frankie," Nikki called from the kitchen. "It's for you. It's Mel." The only Mel I knew was that wimp, Mel Haywood. He couldn't be my boyfriend, could he? Well, somebody named Mel was, and my body sure wanted to talk to him. I found myself jumping from the chair and all but running to the kitchen. I stopped at the door, and the voice in my head said, 'Catch your breath. Don't be too eager.' Great! Now it was giving me dating tips. "Hello," I said, taking the phone from Nikki. She was smiling a -- I hate to say it -- a maternal sort of smile. "Hi, Frankie," the voice on the phone said. "It's Mel. I -- umm -- didn't get a chance to talk to you after school." I recognized the voice. It was Haywood. "Yeah, I, uh, went out to that park, Bikini Beach, with Felicia Ormand." "I know. In fact, that's what I called about. Did you get the job?" Did everybody know about this job but me? "I, ah, I think so. They said that they'd call and let me know." "Aw, I'm sure you got it. The Boss is a pretty straight lady." "Oh, and how would you know that?" "I -- umm, I've, ah, met her a couple of times. You know that I work after school for Ronnie Harris, the developer. She lives in a condo right across from the park. The Boss, the old lady who owns the park, is doing some kind of really big business deal with Ms. Harris. The whole office is talking about it. The old lady comes to the office a lot, and I've had to take papers out to her at the park a couple of times." Something made me a little suspicious, but the story sort of made sense. Maybe it was just the way Mel was stammering. I decided to let it drop -- for now. "So you think I got the job?" As if I wanted the job -- or did I? "I'm sure of it. I just wish I could get back -- could get into the park to see how you look in a bikini. I'll bet you're really cute." I wanted to ask him what he meant by "get back", but I was just so happy that he thought I'd look cute. "Well, you'll never know," I found myself saying. "Maybe someday I will," he said. "It'll give me something to look forward to. In the meantime, how about if I take you out Saturday night to celebrate your new job?" "Sure, but why wait till Saturday?" What the heck? Frankie the boy went out often enough on a weeknight, why shouldn't Frankie the girl? "Frankie, did your dad change his mind? You said he'd never let you go out on a school night. You said he wouldn't even let you go out at all until about six months ago." What! Since when was Pop so strict? He never had a problem with the old -- the male -- me staying out all hours any night I wanted. 'Better play it cool,' I thought. "No, he hasn't changed. I guess I'm just a little excited about my new job." "Well, ask him after we finish talking, and let me know in school tomorrow, okay?" "Okay, I guess." "Great. Tell your dad that I'll pick you up about 7 -- okay." He waited to see if I objected. "We can go to that club you like, umm, Shell Game, over on South Pier. They've got a new house band that I hear is pretty good." He paused again for my comment. The band was pretty good. Why not let somebody else pay for me to hear it? "Okay, then, and tell him that I promise to get you home by 11, just like he wants." At least some things didn't change. Shell Game was a great place: live music, videos on screen, and a couple of rooms with all the latest video games. I, the old me, went there a lot. It was weird listening to Haywood planning out the evening for me, but a little bit of me -- a _very_ little bit -- liked it. Listening to how strict my Pop was, now _that_ was really strange. We talked a while longer. Nothing important really, just the sort of stuff kids talk about on the phone so they can hear each other's voice. I was surprised how much I was enjoying talking to Haywood, to Mel, and how much I was beginning to look forward to seeing him in school the next day. All of a sudden, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around. Pop was standing there pointing at his watch. It was 7:58, over a half-hour since Mel had called. I nodded. "I think I'd better go now, Mel." "Your dad doing his wristwatch routine?" "Yep," I giggled. Giggled! "See you in school tomorrow. Bye." "Okay, but don't forget to ask about Saturday. Bye." There was a click as he hung up. "Sorry, Cara," Pop said. "but you _do_ have homework." "I know, Daddy." Rats, I'd said "Daddy" again "I was wondering, though." "Yeah," Pop was smiling. He knew what was coming. "Mel asked me to go out with him on Saturday; he said we'd go to that dance club, The Shell Game, and he'll pick me up here at seven and bring me back at eleven, and can I go, please, Daddy, please." It all spilled out of me in one excited breath before I could stop myself. I'm not sure why I was so eager to go out with Haywood. Maybe it was curiosity about what it would be like to go out as a girl. Maybe I liked the idea of going out and having somebody else pay for everything. Or, maybe, just maybe, I was starting to think like a girl. I sure sounded like one, the way I had asked. I hoped it was some of each and not just that I was thinking like a girl. Pop smiled, "Okay, okay. I like the Haywood boy. He respects you, and he's smart enough to know to have you to ask me first. They don't serve drinks at that place he wants to take you to, do they?" "Only soda and bottled water." It was true. That was all they served, and they watched for anyone who tried to smuggle in anything stronger. I know; the old me had tried and been stopped at the door. You see, there was some trouble with some kids in town a while back. The city came down hard; they put in a curfew, even closed down a few places. Things were looser now, but that was partly because nobody wanted to give the city an excuse to do anything else. "All right then," Pop said. "But you wait until tomorrow in school to tell him I said you could go. You've got homework. Scoot." I felt so good, I -- believe it or not -- I actually kissed him on the cheek as I left. I headed for my room and actually started my homework. It was weird; I knew the stuff. Not knew it cold, but I seemed to understand it a lot better, even in the courses where I _had_ been paying attention. I finished the business math problems -- I was still in the course -- then pulled out my civics book. That was one course where I did pay attention. You can't beat the system, if you don't know the system. Only, now, I wasn't so cynical while I read the assignment. I was just -- just enjoying reading, like I really wanted to learn the stuff. About 9:30, I thought I heard the phone ring. A moment later, there was a knock on my door. "Frankie, hon," Nikki said. "Felicia Ormand called. She says that it's important. You can have fifteen minutes, okay?" "Okay, umm, Mom." What did she want? Was she calling to gloat? Then I remembered that she'd said that she would call. I put a pen in my civics book to mark the page, we and headed for the kitchen. The phone was on the table. Nikki handed it to me. "Remember, hon, fifteen minutes is all you get." I turned as she started out of the kitchen and sat down on a chair by the table. "Hello, Felicia, what do you want?" "Hey, is that any way to talk to a good friend? I just called up to see how you were handling things." "Oh, just wonderful, considering everything that happened, that _you_ made happen. Why did you do it to me, Felicia?" "I told you. Payback." "Yeah, I know, for something that I don't even remember doing." "Exactly. Look, Frankie, we can go around like this for days, and it won't get you anyplace. You're stuck as a girl for the next week. What do you think of it so far?" "What do I think? I'm a girl. My father's acting weird. He's married, and my stepmother's pregnant. Worst of all, I've got a boyfriend, and we're...we're going out on Saturday. What's not to like?" "A boyfriend." She paused a moment. "Oh, yeah, you're going with Mel Haywood." "What...what did you just do? How did you know that?" "Everybody else's memories changed when you did. I was there, so I have to think for a minute to hook into the new memories. I have both sets. So do you. If you concentrate, you can remember growing up as a girl. Try it." "I don't think I want to. It's, well, it's weird enough just being one now. I don't want to remember always being one." "Actually, you can't help it. The memories will pop up if you need them to help you with stuff." That explained the voice in my head. "I think they already have; a couple of times, in fact." "See, and did it help with whatever was happening?" "I guess, but it's still kind of spooky." "You'll get used it to, and it won't happen often. Like I said before, just go with the flow." "That's what you said this afternoon." "Hey, look at it as a learning experience. After all, you'll be a boy again in a week. Think of what you'll learn about girls in the meantime." "I suppose." She had a point. A guy who knew what girls liked, the way they thought, could make out like crazy. It was a great idea, though, somehow, a part of me felt embarrassed for the way I was thinking. Ding! I heard a kitchen timer behind me. Nikki hadn't been kidding when she said fifteen minutes. She must have set it after she handed me the phone. I decided that I'd better "go with the flow." "Felicia, I've got to get off the phone, now, and get back to my homework. My, umm, step-mom actually set a timer for this call." There was silence for a moment. "I know. Your folks do that in this world." Cripes, just how strict were Pop and Nikki? "Yeah, and she's probably waiting outside to make sure I get off the phone." "Then go. I'll talk to you in school tomorrow. Bye." "Bye." I hung up the phone just as Nikki came into the kitchen. She saw me hang up the phone and smiled slightly. "Have a nice phone call, hon?" She went over to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. There were some pill bottles nearby. She took a couple out of one bottle, popped them in her mouth, and drank the water. Then she saw me looking at her. "A little something Dr. Pearce gave me to help with the pregnancy." "Dr. Pearce? Are you okay?" "Let's just say that there have been easier pregnancies. That's why I'm so grateful for all your help around the house." No wonder I felt such a need to get home. It wasn't just a chore. Nikki was depending on me. 'Okay,' I thought. 'I like her, I guess I can put up with this for a week.' "Frankie, much as I'd like to sit here and talk to you, you've got homework and studying to do. You'd better get to it." "But..." I wanted to stay there, maybe get more of an idea of what my life was like in this reality. "No stalling, hon." She pointed towards the door. "Get going." "Okay," I said with a sigh. "I'm going." I got up and headed back to my room. I finished the civics assignment and read a couple chapters of the Business English course. I was working my way through the assignment for a science course I hadn't been taking before -- oceanography, an easy read for a kid who grew up two miles from the beach, when there was a knock on my door. "Frankie," Nikki said through the door. "It's almost 11:30, time to go to bed." "Okay, Nik...Mom." The word came almost automatically. "Goodnight." "Not so fast, Cara." It was Pop. "I expect a kiss good night." I caught myself smiling. I loved Pop. I always had, but he hadn't acted so, well, so much like a father in years. I've got to admit, I'd kind of missed it. I opened the door. He and Nikki were standing there holding hands and smiling at me. Without thinking, I threw my arms around Pop and kissed him -- on the cheek, but it was still a kiss. "G'night, Daddy," I said, using that stupid name. Then I reached over and gently hugged Nikki. "Goodnight...Mom." I kissed my two fingers and reached down to touch her stomach. "And goodnight to you, too, kiddo." I felt totally creeped out; the way I was acting like a girl, I mean. Then maybe the weirdest thing of all happened. As I touched Nikki's stomach, I felt something hit my fingers. I pulled my hand back like I'd touched a hot stove and let out a surprised "Yeep!" Nikki gently rubbed the spot. "It's okay, Frankie. Your little brother or sister is just saying good night the only way he or she can." "You mean that was him...her...whatever?" "Uh-huh. Want to try again?" I was still nervous, but I was curious. I put my hand, oh, so gently back on her stomach. I didn't feel anything for a minute or two, then something pushed back against my fingers. "I felt it!" I said almost whooping with delight. "I think that both my kids are up too late," Pop said. Then he turned to me. "And you, Cara, are old enough to know better." "I guess," I said. "'Night everyone -- and, umm, Mom, thanks." Nikki was beaming. "Good night, dear." I closed the door and went back to the bed. I put all my books and papers in the book bag and stuck it on a chair. Gee, it was heavier now, or I was a lot weaker as a girl. I took of my blouse and tossed it into a half-filled laundry hamper that was in a corner by my bed, its lid leaning against it; for dirty clothes, I guessed. I unhooked my bra without even having to think about it and tossed it. I kicked off my sneakers and wriggled out of my jeans. They went in, too. I looked around, but there was no sign of any PJs. No, I was wrong. There was a pair in the hamper, half-hidden by my blouse. I went over to dig tem out, but the voice in my head started going, 'Yew, ugh, dirty.' This I _didn't_ need. I stopped and opened one of my dresser drawers. I pulled out a long green nightgown that looked like an overgrown T-shirt. I'd have preferred pajamas, but there weren't any in the drawer, just nighties -- nightgowns. This one would be like sleeping in a T-shirt and shorts, something I -- the boy me -- did a lot on warm nights. I put my arms into the, umm, sleep-T, a word I'd never heard before, but that I knew now. I raised my arms over my head, and let the T slide down onto my body. It felt kind of funny as the material slid past my bare breasts, tickling the nipples. I had to reach down and tug a little as it got hung up on my new, wider hips. The T slipped past them, stopping and swirling out just above my knees. I pulled my hair out from inside it and used some kind of green elastic thing to fix it in a ponytail. I went into the bathroom and washed my face, using some kind of cold cream to take off the make-up, and brushed my teeth. In five minutes, I was back in my bedroom trying to get used to sleeping on my back. With my new -- chest, it was the only way I could get comfortable. My hand brushed against my tummy, and I thought of Nikki -- and of the baby kicking me. The last thing I remember was smiling and wondering what it would be like to be somebody's big sister. * * * * * I woke up to somebody knocking on my door. "Frankie, hon, it's time to wake up and get ready for school." Nikki? What was she doing here? I knew she and Pop sometimes... I suddenly remembered what had happened yesterday. Was it a dream? No, one look at the way my -- my breasts were pushing out my sleep-T, and I knew that it wasn't. I climbed out of bed. Then -- so help me -I leaned over and quickly pulled the sheet and blanket back into place, remaking the bed. Weird. I took off the sleep-T and tossed it on the bed. I put on the robe that was hanging on my closet door, tied it, and headed to the bathroom. When I got to the bathroom, I locked the door and took of the robe, hanging it on a hook on the door. I turned towards the sink and saw myself in the large mirror above the sink. Whoa, I looked hot! That green thingie in my hair had come loose and my hair trailed down over my shoulders, half covering one breast. Standing there in just my panty, I was every teenaged boy's wet dream. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth just a little, so it looked like I was sort of pouting. "Hello, big boy," I said, half-giggling. "Do you like what you see?" What the heck was I doing? It was like I was _enjoying_ being the sexy babe I saw in the mirror. I turned on the cold water and splashed some in my face. I felt a little better -- and not so turned on by myself. I stepped out of my panty and into the shower. I turned on the water -- the _cold_ water. I let out a yelp when it first hit me, but I let it run cold for a bit before I turned on the hot. I soaped up, being _very_ careful about not rubbing the lather around on my breasts or near my groin. Then, just to be sure, I turned the water back to cold to rinse off. I was shivering when I got out of the shower, but I wasn't turned on anymore by what I saw in the mirror. I dried myself, automatically patting myself, rather than rubbing. I sprinkled on some kind of unscented powder and used some deodorant. Then I put on the robe, brushed my teeth, and headed back to my room. I hung the robe back on my closet door and got a pastel blue bra and panty set out of the dresser. Knowing where stuff was seemed to come automatically. It was weird, but at least I didn't hear the voice. Then, as I stepped into the panty, I suddenly thought about how plain-looking all of my underwear seemed. Again I wondered why, and this time I got an answer. 'Daddy,' said the voice. It sounded disappointed. What did Dad have to do with it? I decided to ask Mom -- Nikki about it later. I had school to get ready for, though being so concerned about school was also something new. I stepped into the panties and pulled them up around my waist. Man, did they feel different from my old cotton jockey shorts. I put on the bra again without really thinking about it. I pulled a pale blue blouse with a lacy trim around the collar out of a drawer and slipped it on. Now for the hard part, do I wear pants or a skirt? Pants, I decided; I wasn't ready for a skirt yet? I pulled out a pair of jeans that had the some lace trim on the pockets, trim that sort of matched what was on the blouse. It took a little work to get them past my hips. I had to yank some, but I managed. After I put on socks and a pair of sandals with just a bit of heel, I checked myself out in the mirror. I looked pretty good. The outfit showed off my figure, but it wasn't tight enough to be a problem anyplace. 'Daddy,' came the voice again. I shrugged, figuring that I'd find out eventually. I was about to leave, when I heard that stupid voice again. 'Make-up,' it said. It was right, I guess. I never saw a girl without it; even the plain ones used some. A little lip gloss, some blush for my cheeks, all of it going on as if I'd done it for years, and I was ready to face the day. Dad was sitting in the kitchen with Mom, drinking coffee, when I came in. He looked sharp in a brown suit that I hadn't seen before. "You're up early, Daddy," I said without thinking. In my old life, he sometimes didn't come in from the night before until after I'd left for school. "What are you talking about, Cara? Your Mom and I always leave for Samuelsohn's about the same time you leave to catch your bus for school." "Samuelsohn's?" What was going on? Since when did Dad work at the store with Mom? I sat down and poured some milk into the cereal that was waiting for me. "Yep, in fact, I've got a meeting at 8:45 with Jack Brenner. He wants to go over my proposal for the 'Off to College' campaign. If he buys into it, and I think he will, your old man will be in line to be the new head of "Men and Boys' Wear". What do you think of that, Cara?" I thought that I was hearing things; my Dad a working stiff. It was crazy, but what wasn't right now? I decided to go along -- "go with the flow -- and try to figure it out later. "He'll like it, Daddy," I gushed. "I know he will." I meant it, too. After all, whatever was going on, he was still my Dad. "I guess that makes it unanimous," Mom said. "With confidence like that, I can't lose," Dad said with a big grin. He kissed Mom on the cheek and reached down to pat me on the arm. It felt nice, and I was smiling as I ate my breakfast. * * * * * Getting to school was -- to make a bad pun -- a real trip. I didn't have a car anymore, so I had to walk the two blocks between my apartment and the bus stop. I just got there in time. Luckily, the driver recognized me, so I didn't have to dig out my pass. He always gave me a hard time when I was a guy -- before I got my car, I mean. Now, he opened the door and actually smiled as I climbed onboard. I was surprised and turned to thank him. Only, when I did, I saw that he was staring at my butt. I was mortified. "What are you looking at, you old coot?" I said, glowering at him. I stormed down the aisle, while he muttered something about "rude kids." I wound up sitting down next to Stacy Brenner. She giggled at what had happened. "What got into you, Frankie? You never had the guts to talk like that. Everybody knows that he likes to look at us. A few girls even dress up a little slutty just to tease him." "Yeah," said Jeff Hogan, who was sitting next to Stacy. "One of these days, he's going to forget himself and touch one of you girls. Then we can get him fired for it." "I-I hope so." I was a little shaky from what happened. Shaky? From just staring down some old letch? I must have been more girl than I thought, and I didn't like it. I was a little uncertain about sitting there with Jeff Hogan. The old me never gave him the time of day. He was way too straight for anything that the old me might have wanted to try. And Brenner, well, she was cute -- cute enough to have caught my male eye more than once. But the two of them had been together forever. It might have been fun to make a play for her, except she was as straight as he was. What was the point? Now we're sitting together and talking like old friends. Worst of all, I was kind of enjoying it. There was some kind of girls-only party at Tina Feldman's that Friday. Stacy was going, and it seemed that I was, too. Jeff made a couple of lame jokes about how he and some of his friends were going to try to crash the party. 'Boys!' I thought, then I shook my head in disbelief at what I had just thought. How much of a girl had I become? "Hey," Jeff said. "Mel will be there to protect you; only _he_ will be one of the guys trying to get in." He laughed, and Stacy giggled and slapped at his arm. Me, I just felt _so_ embarrassed. I looked around, but there was no sign of Mel. He must ride in on another bus. I felt -- I don't know -- I felt like I _wanted_ somebody to protect me. And there he was. As the bus pulled into the school lot, I saw Haywood leaning against a tree. He saw me and waved, and I, by reflex, I guess, waved back. He walked over as the bus stopped. "Hi, Frankie," he said as I stepped off. "What did your dad say?" I had to smile. He was so eager. "He said, 'Yes', with the usual rules." I know what rules Dad might have, but, after last night, I was sure that he had _some_ rules for any boy who might want to date me. His smile got even bigger. "Great. I'll come by about a quarter of seven. That should give him enough time to grill me about the date while you finish getting ready." "Umm, okay." Dad actually questioned the boys I went out with? Was this the same father who didn't even ask me what _day_ I'd be home when I was a guy? It was hard to believe. "Hey, did I hear that you two are going out on Saturday?" It was Stacy. She and Jeff must have hung around while Mel and I talked. "Yeah," Mel said. "We're going to hear the new band at Shell Game." "They're pretty good," Jeff said. "Stacy and I went last weekend. Hey, how about we double? I wouldn't mind hearing them again, and I know that Stacy liked them, too." Mel looked at me. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but I figured that I needed some sort of support for my first date as a girl. "Sounds okay to me." "Done," Mel said. "And maybe Jeff and I can sneak away for a few minutes and try out that new Pirates' Cove video game they've got." "Just watch out for the skeleton on level three," I blurted out. Oops! Now the three of them were staring at me. How did a girl like me know about the traps in a new video game? I knew because a boy like me -- like I'd been -- had been playing that very game with my cousin Vince, a few days before. Vince! I tried to giggle and look sheepish. "At least that's what my cousin, Vince said. He, umm, couldn't stop talking about it when he, umm, came over a few days ago." Vince had been over the apartment on an errand, and we'd gone to the Shell Game afterwards. He was two years older than me -- or any of the others -- and he lived across town. They weren't very likely to know him. "Sounds like a real gamer," Jeff said. "I'd like to meet him some time." "Same here," Mel said. "I've gotten to the third level a couple of times, but I haven't run into the skeletons yet. I'd like to compare notes with him." "Well, you boys won't be playing it on Saturday," Stacy said firmly. "The idea of a date is for the boy to pay attention to the girl he's with, not to run off and feed quarters to some dumb video game." Jeff cocked an eyebrow and raised Stacy's hand as if he was going to kiss it. "And just how much attention _should_ I pay to you, my dear?" She giggled. "Oh, about what you're doing now; that's pretty good." Before anyone could say anything else, the five-minute warning bell rang. "See you at lunch," Mel said to me. He gave me a little kiss on the cheek and ran for the south entrance to the building. I stood there for a moment, smiling and lightly touching my cheek where he'd kissed it. Then I grabbed my book bag and ran for the east entrance, where my first class was. * * * * * I'd checked my schedule the night before. A lot of kids taped theirs in their notebooks during the first week of school. Frankie-girl, it seemed, was one of them. I was mostly in the same classes as before. Only now, it was different. I didn't spend half the time in class daydreaming about some girl or planning some new scam. I was paying attention. I enjoyed the classes, and I even found myself participating. In fact, when somebody in the back of the room made a wisecrack, just the sort of joke the old me might have made, I actually felt a little annoyed at him for disrupting things. Like so many other things, I decided to "go with the flow," like Felicia said. It occurred to me that I'd be a girl while I was taking my final exams. It might be nice to get a grade higher than D or the very rare C for a course; kind of a payment to make up for having to be a girl in the first place. The big pay-off, though, came right before lunch, or so I thought. Having fourth period gym always gave me a chance to work up an appetite for my fifth period lunch. Today, though, I wasn't thinking about food. I was thinking about getting naked with the other girls -- other girls? -- in my gym class. At our school, the boys' and the girls' gym classes work out at opposite ends of the same big gym. I knew that there were some real babes in my new class: Susie Shay, Felicia, and, best of all, Janie Serrano. Janie looked like a younger version of her aunt, Ms. Serrano, the gym teacher. Ms. Serrano looked enough like Lucy Lawless that her nickname around the school was "Xena", though never to her face, of course. I figured I was in hog heaven. I figured wrong. By the time I walked into the girls locker room, there were a half dozen naked or near naked girls standing around. Nothing. 'Darn,' I thought, 'I'm no more interested in looking at these girls than the old me would have been at looking at a bunch of naked guys.' Then I felt my body tingle a little, and I realized that the new me _might_ be interested in looking at some naked guys. I shook _that_ thought out of my head, as I realized that I _was_ interested in the girls -- or rather, in what they were wearing. I was in that plain cotton bra and panty set. A few of the other girls -- other girls? -- anyway, a few of them had on the same sort of plain undies, but most of them were wearing a lot fancier and a lot sexier stuff: panties and underwire bras trimmed with lace, lycra bras so sheer that you could see their nipples and areola, thongs barely wide enough to cover their vaginas. A couple of girls were even wearing garter belts and stockings instead of panty hose. I actually felt a little embarrassed to be seen in such old-fashioned underwear. 'Daddy,' the voice said. I was definitely going to ask Mom about it. I switched my regular bra for a sports bra, put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and headed out into the gym. "Hey, Frankie," somebody called. I looked over. Felicia was standing near the bleachers with Tina Feldman, and both were waving at me. I walked over. "What's up," I said. "I'm taking Tina to Bikini Beach after school. Her dad's thinking of buying her a membership for the summer. I thought you might want to come, too." "I -- umm -- I don't know," I said. I wasn't sure that I wanted anything to do with the place, nothing, that is, except to get changed back to my male self as soon as possible. "Oh, c'mon," Tina said. "Your job doesn't start until school's over. You might as well get to enjoy the place a little before you have to start working there." Did everybody know about this job except me? "Let me think about it," I said. "Okay," Tina said. "Hey, speaking of 'work', there's Susie Shay. I want to see if she's coming to my sleep over tomorrow, or if she has to help out at that bar her uncle or somebody owns. Talk to you later." She waved and ran over to talk to Susie. I turned to Felicia. "What's this job I have that everybody seems to know about but me?" "Call it 'background' detail," Felicia said. "There had to be a reason for you -- the girl you -- to be at the park. She normally goes straight home from school to study or something, especially now, when you have to help your step-mom fix dinner." "How did you know that?" "Like I told you last night, I've got memories of both realities. We were already on the way back to your place when I, umm, remembered, so I didn't think that there was any reason to tell you." "I guess not. I probably wouldn't have believed you anyway." I took a breath. "But what about this job?" "Grandmother -- that's what the lady who owns the park likes to be called -- always hires a few extra people during the summer. You were interviewing for one of the jobs. You got it, by way. If you decide to stay a girl, you'll start the day school lets out." "If I decide -- you've got to be kidding. There's no way that I want to be a girl one minute longer than I have to." "Well, it's an option. Hey, here comes Serrano. We'd better get in line with the others." We both hurried over. Even the boys had heard about how Ms. Serrano punished anybody who wasn't ready to start class on time, 10 push-ups for every minute they were late, 20 if they argued. Ms. Serrano was worth hurrying for in any event. Like I said, she looked a lot like Lucy Lawless, 5 foot 10 inches of lush, feminine curves in one tight hard body. Even the baggy, gray sweatsuit she was wearing couldn't hide that fact. She was well tanned, with her dark blonde hair in one long braid that hung halfway down her back. She blew a whistle twice and yelled that class was starting. The girls, including me, formed quickly into two rows. The whole gym was quiet, even on the boys' side, because of what was going to happen. Ms. Serrano slowly unzipped her sweatsuit. The zipper went from the neck almost to the crotch, and no sweatsuit ever looked so sexy coming off. She shrugged it off her shoulders and let it fall to her waist. Then she sort of wriggled it past her hips. It fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Underneath she was wearing a bronze colored lycra gymsuit that almost matched her own skin color. It looked like it was painted on -- no, it looked like she was naked. It didn't do a thing for me -- darn it! -- except make me feel inferior. I had a pretty good body as a girl, but next to her, well, I felt as if I were an under-developed 10-year old. I