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My Three Sons: The Year of the High Concept By Ron Dow75 Book One: The Day Our Lives Were Rewritten The First of Many Family Conferences on the Subject of "Girls" "Okay! I've heard enough on the subject!" the tall dark haired man in the blue suit said, opening their front door with his key. "Complaining is not how we do things in this family. We deal as best we can. That's always been the Douglas credo. The accident happened: Now, get over it! Be thankful we're all alive and, er, healthy." "That's easy for you to say," said the dark blonde, with more hair on top than on the sides, and with the angular features of a beauty, and the cleft in her chin. She had on a baggy pair of men's clothes, with the dress shirt sleeves and slacks cuffs rolled up and pinned. "Yeah!" said an even blonder, cuter, and moodier, mop head blonde, three years the other teenager's younger. Her jeans stretched the upper seams. "You were away making last minute inspections of that test airplane. It wasn't you that were exposed to the experimental fuel," said a dark, short haired, pre-teen, with thick black glasses and a slight overbite. Her boy clothes fit her almost right. "I tell you, it wasn't the fuel! Never has it had such a, well, 'unusual' reaction," the frowning and frustrated Steven Douglas told them "Why did it have to be radioactive?" Chip groused. His loose shirt helped hide his budding breasts, but not his nipples. "We found no evidence of any on you. Radiation does not have that kind of effect!" their father insisted. "In the comic books, it does," Ernie said. There were only minor clues that he was not really a boy; softer face, bigger eyes, longer neck, etc. "If you had bothered to notice, Ernie, this is not the comic books." "But we were in a highly secret area. Who knows what they were experimenting with?" Robbie countered his dad. His men's dress shirt could not conceal his large breasts. "I will! I have the highest security clearance. I shall find out what-" "Well, Steve!" a short stocky man with the red hair combed forward over his receding hair line said, coming out from down the hall, wiping his hands on his apron. "Who do we have here? Girlfriends of our boys?" "I'm not anybody's girlfriend," Ernie said. "Girls! Yuck!" "Then you're yucking yourself, Ernie," Chip said. "Girls are still yuck. Just cause I have to look like one, doesn't mean I have to act like one of those goopy girls." "What in the world?" Uncle Charley wondered. "Girlfriends!" Robbie cried, throwing up his arms, to let them drop down again at his sides. "Mary! --And Roseanne! Oh, Joyce is going to-" "There will be no thinking of girls," Steven Douglas told his, er, son, sternly. "At...uh...least until you've had a chance to think like a girl." "What?" "Yeah, What?" "I'm not hearing right. Girls have smaller ear drums, you know." "That's only for older girls," Chip reminded him. "It's time for a family conference. Everyone into the kitchen!" their dad commanded. "Family conference?" Uncle Charley parroted. "These three, uh, ladies, are now part of the family? Aren't the boys a bit young to be paired up?" "I'm a bit young for everything. Especially knowing about girls," the dark haired one said. "I was going to teach you, just as soon as I found out myself," the very blonde one said. "It's all a matter of psychology. If we approach our problem calmly and rationally, then..." the dark blonde pronounced. "I hear girls have a hard time being calm and rational," Ernie said. "That's because of all those female chemicals in them," Chip said. "Good. If I have that junk in me, now, I don't have to be calm and rational, 'cause I certainly don't feel that way." "Sit down, all of you!" the tall man said, not sitting down, and towering over them. The three girls reluctantly obeyed. Chip rose, before he'd finished sitting. "I can't sit in these jeans! They dig in the wrong places!" "I said sit!" Chip eyed him, but, carefully, did as he was told, pulling at, and unsnapping his pants. Chips father frowned on it, but let it go, for the moment, with an exasperated sigh. "Now, I know more about women, uh, girls, than any of you." "Now, this is getting ridiculous," said Uncle Charley, standing off to the side. "You're not even the man in this group that knows the most about women." He then gave a somewhat embarrassed bow of the upper body, "(Ahem) Ladies, when I was a sea cook, traveling all of the seven seas, I was known as-" "Charley! You seemed to have missed the point," his nephew-in-law Steve said. "Well, would you please tell me the point? What happened to the boys? And why are these three girls here? Who are they, anyway?!" "Er, Charley, uh, the...boys had an accident. " "An accident!" the man, old enough to be their grandfather, jumped up straight and erect, clearly worried. "That's why they didn't come back with you! And you came back! Shouldn't you be at the hospital or-" "I did bring Robbie, Chip and Ernie back, Charley!" Steve said indignantly. "I certainly couldn't take to them to a hospital in their condition!" Charley stared at the other man, baffled. "Hi, Uncle Charley," Robbie was the first to speak, sheepishly raising a hand. "Yeah. Hi," Chip had his new face down towards the table top, and was quite embarrassed. "I'm not saying 'hello'," the youngest said. "I'd rather be known as a stranger, than the strange kid who got turned into a-" "Gee, Ernie! If you don't want people to know, why don't you just keep your mouth shut!?" Chip said. "I don't think I can. You know how girls like to talk." "In your case, I don't think you can blame it on gender, Ernie," Robbie briefly quirked a smile, before slipping back into a more sober mood. "'Ernie'?" Uncle Charley said. "There's a girl named, 'Ernie'?" "It does seem rather inappropriate, doesn't it?" Steve said. "Not to me," Ernie said. "It's the only part of my name that wasn't adopted." "Dad!" Chip cried, lifting his head, at last, "You don't mean-" "Yes, I think I do!" Steve said in his frowning, 'I'm serious about this,' tone. "Dad, No! At least let me spell my name without the "e", or something," Robbie said. "No. It has to be a clean break. You are no longer boys. The sooner you come to terms with that, the less difficult your lives will be." "But, Dad!" Robbie said. "On the inside we're still boys! You can't ask us to-" "On the outside, the side the world sees, you're not boys. That is how you'll be judged. Just think of how girls who act, er... not like girls are suppose to act, are treated." "Arlene Kapinsky," Ernie said, as if he had tasted something sour. Steve nodded, "Arlene, whoever. I'm sure all of you know at least one or two girls who are not like the others." The two teenagers where quiet in their guilt. "As for what you are on the inside. I design planes. I know that specifications effect character." "Dad! You can't be saying-" Robbie began to protest again, until his dad held up his hand. "Women are designed differently from men. There are just some things that women have to do differently. Because of their bodies, and, er... chemistry." "There's that 'chemistry' again," Ernie said, beginning not to like science any more. "When it comes to men and women, there's a lot of chemistry," Chip informed him. Steve looked very sternly down on his child. "That's not the kind of chemistry I was referring to...and I hope we never have to refer to that kind again." "Good Gravy!" Robbie sat up straight in his chair. "What does that make me!? How can I still date girls? Do I even still want to?" He checked inside. "At the moment, my awareness of this new body is interfering with me thinking of much of anything else!" "Okay, that's enough of that kind of talk comin' out of the mouths of females of the proper sort," Uncle Charley ordered. "Look, I've been standing over here, listening to all of this bilge water, and tryin' to 'get the point'...and the only point I see is the one on top of each of your heads. -You all talk like they never knew they were girls before today. -They call you 'Dad', and you answer them like you were. -This little girl is called 'Erni'. Meanwhile our Ernie and his two older brothers are missing!" "Charley!" Steve said, upset that he had to divide his frazzled attention, "that 'girl' is Ernie. This one is Chip. And that's, Robbie." "Hah! I don't believe it: Three girls with the same names as our boys." "It all has to do with the unprecedented effect that some factor, unknown, has had upon the three of them. They are the boys. Only, they're no longer boys." "What?" Charley looked at the three girls, trying to see what the 'joke' was. "Some mysterious radiation turned us into females," Robbie explained. "Like all those radioactive meteors in the comics. You know, like red kryptonite," Ernie added. Uncle Charley still didn't get it. "It's voodoo, Uncle Charley," Chip said, deciding to cut out the sci fi, and cut straight to the magic. "Oh... Mojo, the black arts, the evil eye. You got the whammy put on you!" "Whammy?" Ernie repeated. "I've heard of things like this; especially off the Guinea coast. But I never actually believed it. But, now that I see it," and he swallowed, "I guess those stories are true." "Charley, you can tell us those stories again some other time," Steve told his dear deceased wife's father's younger brother. "Right now, we have to do what's right, and get them presentable." "Pre-sentable!? Does that mean what I think it means?" Charley asked, not liking the idea already. Steve breathed heavily through his nose, then said, "You've been around the world. If we don't get them to, uh, 'pass', I think the word is, what do you think their lives will be like?" "Well, I don't know," Charley thought about it. "I knew this lady tugboat captain, once..." "The operative term is "lady". Women like that are not found in normal life very often, are they?" Uncle Charley looked at the three girls. "Something like this ain't something that happens in 'normal life' much, either. Nevertheless, I swore to Edith on her death bed that I would make as normal a life for our children as I could. Yeah, that was always a sore spot with my niece. What with both her folks in show business; and all her relatives doing, what she called, 'odd jobs', gallivanting all over the place." "Then it's agreed. As of now, I no longer have three sons ." "Dad, I don't want to be a girl!" "You're not a girl!" Uncle Charley told Robbie. "You're more like a woman. So, that means you have even more do's and don'ts!" "Aw, geez! Just when I was getting really interested in girls, I no long want to be interested," Chip said sullenly. "Do you know how long it took me to become someone's Son?" Ernie said to anybody who'd listen. "You're still my child, Ernie. You all are. I am still your father. And as the father of girls, there are going to be new rules and responsibilities," he scowled down at them in his "most serious" face. "Which are?" Robbie asked. "Which are... I don't know, yet! I've never been the father of girls, before! But I do know that you three can't go around looking like that!" Ernie looked down at what he was wearing, "What's wrong with what've I got on?" "For one thing, it rubs against you the wrong way," Chip said, fidgeting (no doubt pulling on something under the table), while he pulled the shirt away from his chest. "Not me!" Ernie said. "If anything, some things are baggy." "That's 'cause you're a little girl. You're not, developed, yet," Chip said. "Little!" Ernie pouted. "I change my body, but I'm still 'little'." "Ernie, if it'll make you feel any better, you're at the age were girls have their growth spurts," Robbie said. "It won't be long before you're taller than the boys in your class." "Really?" Ernie almost smiled. "Is that right, Dad?" "Er...yes. That's right, Ernie." "Don't get all that happy, Ernie," Chip rained on his parade. "Besides getting taller, you also get a whole lot of other stuff. Stuff that boys don't have to get." "I'd almost welcome that stuff, if it means getting taller. I'm tired of being the shortest in my class. I mean, even the girls have been taller." "Yeah; but you don't get to stay tall. You know how short girls are. Compared to guys," Chip said. "But I'd get to be tall for a little while! I'm going to walk around with a camera, so I can remember it when I'm not, again." "Well, I've never been all that tall, either; and I just got shorter," Chip said, still looking on the negative side of things. "And it looks like my growth spurt days are over with." As soon as he said that, he thought of something, and looked down at his under developed chest. "Same here; at least four inches," Robbie sighed. "For the children of such a tall dad, we really got short-changed in that department." "That's 'cause you take after the O'Casey's," Uncle Charley said. "Not that I ever complained, mind you. I've proved myself in many a brawl. But, if it's any comfort to you guys, the females on our side were always just about normal size. For females, that is." "Oh, that's a big comfort. Thanks, anyway, Uncle Charley," Robbie said. "Uncle Charley? What, uh, I mean, just how...'big' did...did...," Chip asked. "Well, (Ahem!) not that I paid much attention, but I don't recall any the size of Robbie's." Robbie looked down at his own chest. "They are big! I thought it was just because I wasn't use to having, uh, them." "I'm afraid the women on my side of the family are 'well- endowed'," their dad spoke up. "Oh, that's just great!" Chip said. "We get the worst of both." " Gee, now, I'm glad I'm not a real member of this family," Ernie piped up. "And how do you know your real family didn't have-" "Chip!" their dad said in his warning tone. "Sorry," Chip apologized, looking down at either the table or his chest again. "Chip: as a girl's name," Steve raised his hand, then let it drop. "I was never good at coming up with names." "That's obvious," Charley said. "Robbie, at least, was named after your father, Steve. Roberta, is the next best thing." "Robert-a?" Robbie squealed. "I don't think my father would've appreciated that kind of honor. I said a 'clean break', and I meant it. Robbie, if you can think of a better name, we'll consider it." "Why did you name Chip 'Chip', anyway, Dad?" Ernie asked. "Why do you think!?" Uncle Charley said. "Chipper, here, was 'another chip off the old block'!" "Huh?" Ernie tried to get it. "Well, we thought it was clever at the time," Steve said. "But as a girl's name? Well, it just won't do !" "Jesse," Chip said quietly. "'Jesse', did you say?" Steve asked. "As in 'Jesse James'?" "That don't sound like no girl's name to me," Ernie said. "Quiet, Ernestine," Chip said. "Ernestine?" "There will be no 'Ernestine' in this family," Steve put his foot down, reassuring his youngest. "'Erma' sounds almost like Ernie," Robbie volunteered. "There will be no 'Erma', either!" "My mother's name was Winifred; it said so on the birth certificate!" "'Winifred'?" Steve said like he'd just heard something worse. "'Winnie?' Sounds like something a horse would say," Charley said. "I like it," Ernie said, his feelings hurt. "It is a fine name, Ernie," Steve saw how his feelings were being hurt. "But how about something, that sounds just a little better. Like, 'Wynne'." "'Windy' sounds more like you," said Chip. "I like 'Winifred'. And Uncle Charley likes horses," Ernie persisted. "That I do, Winnie," Uncle Charley said, trying to smile. "What was grandma's name, Dad?" Robbie asked. "Grandma's !" Steve said, startled at the thought. "Well, since, as a boy, I was named after grandpa, then, as a girl, it just seems right that I be-" "If, uh, 'Winnie' can be named after his, er...her, well, you know what I'm getting at," Uncle Charley spoke up, cutting Steve off before he could raise his objections. "In my family, we don't name girls after relatives," Steve still tried to object. But all eyes but Chip's was on him. "It was 'Tammy'." "'Tammi', huh?" Robbie said, trying it out. "It doesn't sound that bad. It could've been worse." "That leaves only Chipper," Uncle Charley said, hurrying to change the subject, and set 'Tammie' in stone. "Why 'Jesse'?" Chip, still not looking at anybody, shrugged his, or, rather, her shoulders, "It's just a name I thought about." "You thought about changing your name!?" Steve said, looking accusingly at his youngest, but for Ernie. "I would, too, if I was named 'Chip'!" Charley intervened again. "And Jesse is a name that either a boy or a girl could use. I think it's a good choice." "'Jesse'? 'Winnie'? 'Tammy' ?" Steve was having a hard time coming to accept the new appellations. "Look, Steve!" Uncle Charley said. "You're the one who got on the throne and decreed that they were now girls, not boys. If they can't have boy names, let them at least get to choose the ones they can live with." "Er... You're right, Charley. It's just that, well: I realized, for the first time, I'm loosing my boys. There's no longer going to be a Robbie, Chip, or Ernie. It's tough for a father to take." "You think it's rough!" Winnie said. "You're right. I'm sorry to be thinking just of me. Er, Winnie." "In a pig's eye," Charley muttered. "What was that, Charley?" "Nothin'. Look, the preliminaries are over. They've got new bodies, and new names. There's still the matter of clothes, and the, "other" stuff. It's going to be expensive you know." "The money! Where am I going to get the money?" Steve said, realizing that Charley was right. This was going to cost him in more ways than just his fatherly pride. "What other stuff?" Winnie asked. "You don't want to know," Jesse said. "At your age, you don't have to know, uh, Winifred," Tammy said. "But we do," Jesse griped again. "At least you're at the age where it can be introduced more slowly. Me, I have to be 'othered' all at once!" Tammy said. "Good. You can go first, and tell me about it," Jesse said. "I can wait." "No. You can't," their dad said. "Postponing the inevitable is just going to make it all that much harder on you. You are all going to get that... uh, 'other' stuff. And use it!" "Including me?" Winnie asked. "Aa...As much as a girl your age does, yes. Whatever that is." "I have lady friends I can ask. Discretely, of course," Charley volunteered. "And there are the ladies at my office. The secretaries, and, uh...others." "There's not too many lady engineers, are there, Dad?" Tammy said. "Enough: You will still study to be an engineer. "If, that's what you want," Steve was quick to add. "You can go on the assembly line," Jesse said. "I hear women are good with delicate work." "Delicate!" Winnie said, as if having tasted something unappetizing. "We'll worry that, far in the future. It's your immediate future that we must worry about, now," their father stepped in. "Now, I have an opportunity for a promotion. That will mean a substantial raise. I hadn't been considering it, because, well, I like it here. I'm comfortable." "That's you, Steve. No wonder Edith married you," Charley said. Steve Douglas directed his frown at his Uncle-in-Law, before looking at no one in particular, just the calculations he was making, "It means a move. To our California plant." "California!" Tammy said. "Beach girls!" "Bikinis!" Chip echoed. "I'm not wearing a bikini!" Winnie said. "Oh, that's right!" Tammy said, hitting a brick wall. "Yeah, for a moment, we actually forgot," Chip said. "How can you guys open your mouths and not remember?" Winnie said. "It's not the same, when you're inside," Tammy said. "How do you sound to yourself?" Jesse demanded. "I don't sound as much like a girl as you two!" Winnie insisted. "Yeah! Well... you're voice is never going to have a chance to change!" Jesse told the annoying girl. "You all sound shrill, to me!" Uncle Charley said. "That was one thing I never really missed out at sea and away from whiny females!" "Charley!" Steve nearly barked, "I don't want to hear any more of that talk again!" Charley was about to object, but stopped himself, though his expression let everybody know he wasn't done throwing his opinions around. "As I was saying, it will mean a move. And under the circumstances, I think that's a very good idea. "We certainly can't have a clean break if we stay here." "I don't want to hang around here," Winnie agreed. "Everybody's going to laugh at me, if I have to start wearing dresses." "They'll do more than just laugh ," Jesse said, sourly. "I know I don't want to be asked out by anybody I know," Tammy said. "I'm glad you're beginning to see why I have to do this," their father said. "Just know, this is hard on me, as well. Now, the promotion isn't certain. To get it, I'll be putting in extra hours at the plant, and, er...going to company functions." " Company functions?" Winnie asked. "He means he'll be going to a lot of parties," Uncle Charley told him. "You know I hate going to parties, and I'd be here with you, if I could. But advancement means politics. On the brighter side, I'll have more opportunities to look into what caused this, uh..." "Disaster," Jesse said. "Life-altering event," Tammy said, tried to be positive. "Uh-Oh...!" Winnie said, quickly getting up. "Ernie, I mean --We're not finished yet," his father said. "I don't want to go, but I have to!" he told him, and hurried from the kitchen as best he could with his thighs pressed together. "Why'd he have to do it!?" Jesse said. "Now I have to, also!" "Use the one off the kitchen," Uncle Charley said, thumbing it even as he moved towards the broom closet. "Charley?" Steve asked. "I'm getting a mop!" "Oh, that's just great! Girls Are different!" they heard a cry coming from the stairs. "Nope. She didn't make it," Charley said. Our First Day as Girls, and We're Shopping... "I wish I never had to do that again!" Jesse griped, coming back from the lavatory near the back door. "Yeah. I would have thought that most of the difference was in the upper body," Tammy said, standing near the end of the counter, now. He raised his glass of water, "but when you come to think of it, the function females are designed for is centered mainly in the lower part." "I wish you would stop talking like an engineer," Jesse said, moving towards the fridge. "Doesn't this all bother you?!" "Of course, it bothers me," he said, before finishing off the glass. "But being cerebral puts it off at arms length. There, I can examine it, and prepare for the problems." "And it keeps you from having to deal with your feelings," Charley said, coming in through the swinging door. It was in a none too sympathetic tone. "Until, at last, you snap. Why do think they call it hysteria?" He was waving around a bottle of cleaner. "Hysteria?" Jesse said, from the open fridge, "I think I learned about that in school. Women are always doing that in English class." "Charley, that is just a myth perpetuated by men, to keep women in their place," Tammy said, leaning against the counter. "You've been a girl for just a couple of hours, and you're already soundin' like a feminist," he said, opening the broom closet. "Think about what you just said, and tell me you're not starting to feel a little hysteria." "That's in the past. This is 1966, the world is changing." "Words. You haven't been out in the real world," he said, having put the bottle away. "If you were a guy, I'd say you might be able to get away with claptrap like that, but a dame's got to learn the facts of life re-al quick like!" " Facts of life!" Jesse exclaimed, losing his appetite. "Suddenly, Biology is flashing on me!" "The 'main design specifications for women'," Tammy said, as if he'd already figured that out. "Okay, Uncle Charley, I cleaned it up," Winnie said, coming into the kitchen with a cleaning rag, and a new pair of pants. "Put it in the laundry!" he directed. Then he said to the other two, "I don't want to hear any more of that talk while there are young ears around. You got me?" "But Charley!" Jesse appealed. "I said put a cork in it! That's what dames do!" Jesse closed the fridge door with a jar. His mood was dark and sour, but he didn't say anything. Their father came in, "I just got off the phone. I talked with Dave Ramsey. He told me it was between me and Hec Armstrong. He's not as qualified, but he does know all of the top people in the company. Dave's going to set me up with a golf game with this representative of the Mexican government. If I can get him to order our cargo carrier, then I will prove I can do that part of the job." "I can help you with the Spanish!" Tammy volunteered. "It's my foreign language credit." "Thanks. I know Spanish. But it's been a while since I've had a reason to use it." "Dad probably knows Spanish better than you," Winnie said, coming back from the laundry. "Then she can practice with me," Steve told the girl that came in. "Dad," Jesse spoke up, "you just called Robbie 'she'." "I did? I did. Well, Robby, I mean, ...Tammy, is a she. You just have to take a look at her." "That's okay, dad. It's like you said, we have to accept what we are, now, and get on with our new lives," Tammy said. "Now, if you'll excuse me," Tammy said, heading towards the back door. "What's with all this going to the bathroom, all of a sudden?!" Charley asked. "It's like I've been telling you, "Women are designed different," Tammy said just before he left. "I'll say!" Jesse said. "I hope he knows he can't stand up any more," Winnie said. "Stop that, uh...uh..." Steve fumbled. " Jesse!" Charley told him. "Girls do not keep pulling at their shirts. Especially around the chest area!" "But it bothers me!" Jesse said. "I didn't know girls nipples were so large and sensitive." "They get use to them. And so will you." "How long is that going to take?" "Hey! You! What do you think you're doing?!" Uncle Charley demanded. Winnie had pulled up his shirt, and was looking at his bare chest. "Are mine larger? I can't tell." "Pull that shirt down this instant!" his father told him. "I see we're going to have to start right away on teaching you to behave like girls." "I'm ready, Dad," Tammy said, returning. "I still don't understand how you can be taking this so well," Jesse frowned at his big..., well-you-know. "Yeah!" Winnie said, "Aren't those things heavy?" "They're big. And they want to get in the way," Tammy admitted. "And they pull at my back and shoulders." "Don't your nipples bother you?!" Jesse wanted to know, clearly bothered by his. "That's the second time I've heard that word!" their Uncle Charley said. "I don't want to hear you say it again!" "What else are you going to call them!?" Jesse said. "There are plenty of words!" "And none of them can be used in mixed company!" Steve reminded him. "Oh? How about 'brown-eyes' or 'fried eggs'?" "No, Charley!" " Brown-eyes?" Winnie said. "Keep that shirt down!" "Yes, sir," he said like a kid who'd got caught doing dumb things again. "Getting back to original question, uh...," Tammy said. "Jesse!" "Right: Jesse. Anyway, I'm not too bothered by them, because when I had to get a change of clothes, Mr. Winslow's secretary told me I should wear something. She helped me with an emergency repair job." "You're wearing a bra?" Jesse said. "Bra!" Winnie said, embarrassed. "There's another word!" Charley said. "It's okay for girls to say it!" Steve told him, but plainly upset to have to, "there are just some things that they can't avoid!" Satisfied that Charley had been quieted, if only temporarily, he added, "We're family. You can say, and do, things in front of your family that you can't with others. Besides, bras are one of those things we have to talk about. Like it or not, Charley, as the adults, we're going to have to help them buy...what are you doing?" Steve suddenly cried at Tammy. "I'm just unbuttoning the top buttons, see?" He said to Jesse, pulling apart the upper half of the man's shirt he had on. Underneath was an artfully crossed piece of linen that still managed to cover the semi-compressed globes. "Nora said that her sister taught her this when she was caught in an emergency. It's really a flounce." "Flounce? That's what girls do!" Jesse said. "A flounce goes over a window, Jolene!" Charley told her. "My name's Jesse!" "When you act like a Jolene, I'll call you Jolene! It's better than the knucklehead jackass I'd call you if you were a guy!" "No it isn't!" Jesse said. "I'd rather be a knucklehead jackass." "Fine! From now on, when you act like a knucklehead jackass, I'll call you Jenny!" "Jenny?" Tammy had buttoned up the shirt, "We'd better hurry, and get to the store." "Why do you have to be in such a hurry!" Winnie said. "You may want to get started wearing bras and lipstick and perfume, but not me!" "You're too young for any of that!" his father told the child. "I am?" Winnie wanted to be happy; but he also didn't want to be left out, like so much of his life. "You still have to wear dresses," Jesse said, frowning. "I do?" Winnie appealed to the adults. "There are girls who don't wear dresses! Mary McKay, Brenda Gabaldi, Luanne-" "I don't like to see girls in pants or jeans!" Charley said. "Girls should wear dresses ." "We'll buy a couple of dresses, and talk about it," Steve made his fatherly pronouncement. "Sooner or later, a girl has to wear a dress." "You're going to wear a dress," Jesse told Winnie, not liking the idea, either. "They're trying to put off the fight until after they have the dresses they're going to make us wear." "I didn't see any practical use for dresses," Tammy said. "But after going to the bathroom-" "That's enough of talk about bathrooms," Steve told the young woman. "We men don't have to hear the details." "No. I guess not," Tammy said. "Why can't I just pull down my-" Winnie persisted to resist. "You should know that! After that little episode on the stairs, and in the hallway. And the bathroom!" Charley told her. Winnie was too embarrassed to answer. He was quiet, for a while. "Do you have your credit card?" Charley asked, just as Steve was about to get in the car. "It's in my wallet. I have my checkbook in my coat pocket. I can stop off at the bank to withdraw some money from the savings." "I think it might be a good idea to apply for some more credit cards, Dad," Tammy suggested from the back seat of the station wagon. "I've never needed more than one credit card in my life!" Steve told him... that is, her. "You're right," he nodded, getting in the driver's seat. "This is no time to think about the budget." "Why do I have to go out in public! Why can't I stay home with Uncle Charley," Winnie complained. "Because I have to go," Jesse said. "Because we don't know your size!" the father told the kid. "There is such a thing as tape measures," Winnie refused to see the sense in it. "That would do fine, I suppose, if girls' sizes were the same as boys'." "Aren't they??" "No, they're not, uh...Winnie," Tammy said. "I told you, girls were totally different from boys," Jesse said. "They have to be different even when there's no reason to be." "Actually, I believe it was the men who ran the clothing and other businesses that..." "Please," their dad asked. "I don't need any more distractions while I'm driving!" At General department store... "I know where to go," Tammy said. "Fine, then, we'll follow you," their dad said, letting the oldest go on ahead. "Ernie, I mean, Winnie, stop hanging onto me!" Jesse whispered. "I'm hiding behind you," Winnie said, her head and shoulders bent as he hung onto his older sib's waist. "I know what you're doing. I don't like it! It makes me know I have a hips!" "And they're soft, too." "That does it!" Jesse said, pulling the kid out from behind him. "Hey! Somebody might recognize me!" Winnie nearly cried. "They will if you make a scene!" their dad told them in a soft yell. "You're drawing attention!" He said, before smiling for some of the passersby. Some old ladies eyed the girls dressed in boys clothes. "The rebellious fads these days." "The clothes are bad enough, but look at the hair." "...And that's not unfeminine for the youngest one." "Don't worry," Jesse told him. "No one's going to know it's you." But he still looked around nervously. "Oh, yeah!? I looked in the bathroom mirror: I look the same as I did the last time I looked! And that was this just this morning!" Suddenly, Winnie saw something, and headed off by himself. "You don't look the same!" Jesse insisted, but stood there. Steve Douglas looked around, "What's got into him?!" "Oh, she thinks that she looks the same as Ernie," Jesse said, almost putting his hands on her hips. "There is a resemblance. But girls, even at his age, have differences." "Try telling her that!" "I will. Come on!" "What do you think you're doing?" "I'm getting a disguise!" Winnie told him, and turned around with a pair of plastic sunglasses on. "And how are you going to see without your prescriptions?" the father-figure asked. "I'd rather bump into things, than have people pointing at me, and laughing." "And they won't point and laugh, if you're bumping into things?" the father said, starting to allow his exasperation to surface. "At least they won't know who they're making fun of." Steve took the cheap sunglasses off his kid's face. "Wearing girls' clothes is a disguise!" Jesse told him. "Then, how come he can wear sunglasses!?" Winnie protested. Sure enough, when the father looked at his other youngest, he saw a young teen wearing a pair of sunglasses. Boy's sunglasses. "I don't have a prescription!" Jesse explained. "I'll get you all sunglasses, if that will help," the father said. Then he took those sunglasses off as well. "But at the optometrist!" "Do you really think wearing girl's clothes will be a disguise?" Winnie asked, again. "Who expects to see boys in girl's things?!" Jesse tried to reassure both of them. "Then I want some makeup, too! That'll really make it a disguise!" "You're too young for makeup!" their father told them. "I'm not!" Jesse said, starting to see the logic in a dumb little kid's remarks. "Thirteen is too young, too!" "You mean, Rob-Tammy is the only one who gets to wear makeup!?" Winnie said. "But he's the one who doesn't need it!" "Yeah," Jesse said. "No one's going to mistake him for a guy." "Rob. In makeup!?" Steve stopped, suddenly realizing for another time what had happened to their lives. Oh, how long before his life was normal and comfortable again? There was something of a commotion in the women's department. Steve wanted to avoid as many people as he could. "Where's, uh. that girl who said she knew the way?" "Even I know how to get here," Winnie said. "This place has always given me the creeps." "Yeah. But once you reach a certain point again, you sort of get curious," Jesse told the younger sib. "Just how curious is she?" Winnie asked. "She didn't seem to mind being changed into a girl." "You must be the father of these poor girls!" a woman accused Steve Douglas. "What? I haven't had a chance, yet!" he fumbled. "I mean: I'm trying to keep them from being poor girls." "Is that the truth?" the woman didn't want to be appeased. ("Annabelle!" her friend said.) "Yes! Of course!" "Dad's okay!" Jesse defended him. "It's not his fault we're girls." "See, Edith? He's tried to keep them from being girls! There must be a law" "I don't want to leave this family, too!" Winnie said, sadly, moving towards his adoptive father. "There, see, Annabelle?! They're not really his girls!" Edith told her. "Are you?" "I'm adopted." "He should be commended. How many would take on children with problems? Sisters, too." "Girls with a problem like theirs need a woman around," Annabelle sniffed. "I'm sure there is!" Edith prompted the stranger to help her with her friend. "Er, well..." Desperate, the kid who'd been bounced around foster homes bent the truth, "I have a mother at home!" "You do??" Steve asked. "That's right!" Jesse was quickly getting the idea. "The judge said so." "Oh, that 'mother'!" Steve got it. "What kind of father doesn't know their mother?!" "So, they're not married! The judge said it was okay," Edith said. She took her friend by the arm, and pulled her away. "Let's not get involved in something that has nothing to do with us..." "What brought that on?!" Steve asked. "I think I know," Jesse said, pointing with his head at the thinning clump of women, and one floorwalker. There behind the open door of a dressing room was Tammy in just her flounce top and boys' boxer shorts, she was staring at the bra she held in her slim hands. "Rob-I mean Tammy! What's the matter?" the father hurried to his second oldest child. "It hit me. It just came out of nowhere, and hit me," she said from her daze. She looked up at her father, and held up the bra, "I have to wear this!" "Gee, seeing someone you don't expect to cry, actually doing it, is creepy," Winnie said. "That's what girls do," Jesse said. "Not me! Like you guys keep telling me, I'm not that much of a girl, yet!" "It doesn't matter what age you are," frowning, even as he said it, "girls are girls." "Tell that to Arlene Kapinsky." "You're with the young lady and her father," the salesclerk stated rather than asked. "Er, yeah. Afraid so," Jesse said. "We're here 'cause Dad says we got to wear girl stuff!" Winnie said with a sour face. "You've never worn female attire before?" "Heck no!" "Winnie!" Jesse said. "She means that there was just boys in our family before." "Oh," the somewhat plump woman said, with some sympathy. "There must have been a lot of brothers to keep you out of dresses. ...and appropriate glasses." The nameplate pinned to her navy vest said, "Mrs. Liza". "Yeah, enough. I was always getting hand-me-downs." "Not me. I was a foster kid. I got whatever they could give me," Winnie said. "Oh, you poor dears! I shall have a talk with your father!" "It's not his fault!" Winnie, seeing his new home-life threatened again, did what seemed to have worked before, "He adopted me! He's trying to make girls out of us!" "Yeah! Whether we like it or not," Jesse said, trying to sound like he had to agree with his dad. "Well, then: Why don't we get started. Do you know what sizes you are?" "No," Jesse said. "I don't even know what size boy's clothes I wear!" Winnie said. "Well, let's see...," the woman said, studying them. She spoke to Winnie, "I have a daughter about your size. I'd say about a 11 slim." "What about me?" Jesse asked. "I don't have a daughter your age," the youngish woman said. "and it's so difficult to get clothes for girls your age." "It is?" "Your body is constantly changing. And you don't know if it's going to be fast, or slow. If you're not given a size large enough, then it will soon bind." "Bind??" "A girl, especially one at your age, does not want something that binds." "Then get me something large and loose." "A girl, especially one your age, wants to show off her figure." "No I don't!" "You say that now, but soon...," she smiled. "Soon?" "You will have mood swings, and want to hide behind baggy, bulky clothes. But the whole purpose of puberty is for getting the boys to notice you." "I don't want anybody to notice me!" Jesse cried, appalled. "Still at that stage," the women shook her head sadly. "well, think of it this way, then, you have to pass the inspection of the other girls." "I do?" "That is another reason it is so difficult to dress girls of your age. Fashions change. And not just from month to month. What is acceptable to one group of girls, may not be to the next." "Heck! I don't care what any girls think!" "The first rule of being a girl is that girls must care what other girls think." The way the woman said it sent a chill down Jesse's spin. "Catherine Lane!" The woman had her up on a step stool. "Don't worry. You won't have to undress. It's not going to have to be an exact fit." "Do I have to wear a training bra?" Jesse asked, trying to keep her eyes at the ceiling as the woman measured her chest. "I've been seeing the way you move about." "I'm just fidgety!" she tried to explain. "Well, if you want to burn your bra, you first have to have a bra," the woman smiled. "You burn bras?" "Sure!" Winnie said. "We learned that in civics class. You burn a flag when it gets old. Bras are made out of cloth, too, aren't they?" "You don't go and wave bras around!" Jesse said about the dumb answer. The salesclerk had moved to the waist, "Some people do." "Who?" Jesse asked. "Maybe you won't have to know," Mrs. Liza said, marking her place on the tape with a thumb before letting one end go. "Gee! I never thought about bras being like flags before," Winnie said. "Will you stop talking about it? Boy! For somebody who didn't even like saying that word, you're certainly saying it often enough!" "Your sister's right, in a way," the woman said, finished jotting down the number on her pad. She returned with the tape, "Man or woman, we all have faces. It is your bust that declares to the world that you are a woman." Winnie thought about it. "You mean, the head is like the knob at the end of a flag pole?" "Er Winnie!" Jesse said, not liking having ideas like that put in his head. "Except, the more the 'signal' stands out, the less like a pole you are," said the curvy woman, as she put the tape around Jesse's front, and drew it towards the rear. Jesse looked down at his shirt. ("I don't care if you are the father. This is not the time to be with your daughter!") "They do stick out, don't they?" "Not that much. They're still new to you. How old are you?" "Thirteen and almost a half," Winnie told her. "Oh. It looks like you're not going to be like a pole." The woman pulled the tape away, and read the number. "It looks like you're going to be at least as 'full figured' as your sister." "I. Am?" Jesse gulped. She was pale. "She is?" their father said. "Dad!" Winnie said, hurrying over to him. "You have a very 'healthy' daughter," the salesclerk told the very tall man. "I don't know about that. They haven't been to the doctor, yet," Steve Douglas said, while accepting the clutch of his youngest. "Doctor? There's no reason to take her to the doctor. This happens to young girls her age," the woman tried to reassure the man. "I know that! I may not have been a father of girls long, but I do know that they, er,..'develop'!" "Yes; it is all part of her development. It is natural. Please don't embarrass her. I'll include some panty liners," the woman said, departing. " 'Panty...liners'?" Steve asked the girls. "Dad?" Jesse asked. "Does, uh...panty liners, are they what I think they are?" "Yes," Steve said, then looking at the girl, "Jesse , they are." He was frowning, but there was sympathy in his voice, "Did you have an, uh... 'accident'?" "No. I don't think so," Jesse said, taken aback at having to check in front of her father. Her head bowed, but trying to look the man in the eyes, she said, "I do feel, damp." "Damp? Well, there are all sorts of reasons a girl would feel," (he bobbed his head, stumbling on the word) 'damp'," Steve said, not wanting to think of the 'it is natural' one. "Am I going to wear panty liners, too, Dad?" Winnie asked. "No," was all he bring himself to say. "Oh," Winnie said. "It has to do with the age thing again. Boy! It looks like a girl-kid gets left out of more things than a boy- kid." "Be thankful while you can," another female voice said. "Is that you...Tammy?" her father asked in disbelief. Getting Down to Basics... Guest Star: (1)Anybody who's seen "The Jack Benny Show" knows who Frank Nelson is (the tall, round, balding man with the pencil thin mustache). There standing before them was a very beautiful young woman (with still red eyes), in a tailored print (a yellow, orange, brown, and red flower abstract that looked like it was made by a little kid) dress, with straight skirt that came up well above her knees, revealing legs that would be very attractive, if they didn't need to be shaved. At least they were blond. There was a salesclerk behind the girl, her hand still struggling to hoist the zipper. "You should wait until you're properly dressed before you leave the dressing room!" She had on dangling ring earrings, ring bracelets, ring-print blouse, and an orange knit skirt and matching shoes with rings in their centers. "Dad! I thought I could deal with it. But to actually feel one on you. I mean, it makes you know you're not you!" "It does, uh...'conform' to your figure, doesn't it," Steve said. "Oh, man! It's contagious," Jesse said. "Now I've got a figure!" "Really?" Winnie asked, putting her hands on the sides of her waist, "I thought that had already happened to us, all at once." "Not at my age. I just mean I can't ignore it any more --What with, Tammy there, reminding me and all." The clerk waiting on Tammy finally got the zipper all the way up. "Your sister has a fine figure; the envy of any girl. It's about time she showed it off." "Dad: I'm a 36-24-36!" "D," added Mrs. Ella. "D ?" Steve said, not wanting to believe his ears. "In school, a "D" is failing," Winnie said. "In life, "D" is well above average," the clerk said. "Especially when it comes with a 36-24-36," Jesse's clerk said, returning with some packages. "Is that what I am?" Jesse asked. "Not yet," Mrs. Liza said. "I wouldn't count on the 24, but you might get to be a 37, or more." "Is that passing?" Winnie asked. "It could be," the woman said. "Depending if the top is that, or more." "It certainly wouldn't keep you from getting passes," Tammy's clerk said. "That's something I'd rather fail at," Jesse said. "Dad," Tammy said, eyeing him with a 'let's get serious' look, "when you said the women in the family were 'well endowed', I didn't think you meant the mother lode." "'Mother'...?" Steve repeated, then found he did not like the image. "Ro-Tammy! The women of the Douglas's do have measurements similar to yours. But they also are taller. It never occurred to me that the ratios wouldn't stay constant." "I think 5'4" is a more than reasonable height," Mrs. Ella said, who happened to be at least two inches shorter. "And speaking of that dimension," Jesse's clerk said to the same. "I went off without taking your inseam." "Inseam?" Jesse yelped. She said, trying to hand the young teenager a package of panties, and a package of panty liners from the assortment she was carrying, "This time, I think it would be best to go some place more private." "Can I come, too?" Winnie asked. "No!" Jesse and her father said at once. "Maybe it would be all right," Mrs. Liza suggested. "this time can be, troubling. It can be helpful to have a sister to lend support." She then lowered her voice into a more conspiratorial tone, "It would also take away the 'mystery factor' for certain younger minds." "Can't you just use the one from my jeans?" Jesse wanted to know, refusing to touch the packages. "You said they're hand-me-downs. And," she said, giving them a critical eye, "they don't look like they fit you, anyway." "If I wear a skirt, then you won't have to take that, you-know," Jesse refused to give up. " You actually would wear a dress?" Winnie asked, seeing one more chance shot down. "Tammy's wearing a dress. And, like I told you, they're going to make us wear dresses." Amid this, Jesse's salesclerk deposited the packages in a bin of sweaters. "Dad! I'll volunteer to have my inseam taken," Tammy said. "I'll wear slacks, Capri pants, Clamdiggers; I'll even wear culottes. Just don't make me wear anything that lets a draft in!" "Well, I don't know..." Steve said, weakening in his resolve to force them into their new lives. "I wouldn't advise you to wear anything but dresses," Mrs. Ella said, showing them how well she fit into the dress by touching a side. "That's right," Mrs. Liza said. "Pretty, new girls need to be presentable." "Presentable?" Winnie asked. "For boys, wearing pants is the only thing presentable." "Exactly. There are so many choices for a girl to make, what she wears is a statement of how she wants to be thought of," Mrs. Liza informed them, pulling at the hem of her loose shirt. "And a new girl, without a reputation, has to be very careful what she's seen in," Mrs. Ella said. "Especially one of your proportions." Tammy looked down at her body, and saw only her bodice. "You mean because I have-" "You're going to have to find a compromise. Something that will satisfy the girls, but please the boys." "I don't think I want to "please' boys," Tammy said, looking away from the sight he would have thought "something-else" of this morning, if it was owned by somebody else. "I know I don't!" Jesse said. "I do!" Winnie said. "I just hope they'll still let me hang around them." "Let us first be concerned about the girls," Mrs. Liza clerk said, briefly grasping her hand. "Why should I be concerned about them?" Jesse asked, wanting to take away her hand. "Heck, yes!" Winnie agreed. "Where have you been hiding all of these years?" she asked with sympathy at the na?ve young thing. "Haven't you ever heard that 'Girls must stick together'?" the other one said. "And I do mean 'must'," the more motherly one said, again in a way that sent a chill through him. "All I ever heard of is 'A family must stick together'," Winnie told them. "There's also 'Boys must stick together'," Tammy said. "Yeah, but it usually means against the girls," Jesse said, really feeling doomed, now. "Exactly. Girls are a girl's extended family. Get in with the right company, and they'll be there when your family will not," Mrs. Liza told him; the other nodded her head. "Huh?" Winnie didn't get it. "She means that girls watch each other's back," Tammy said. "Yeah: Against boys," Jesse said, sourly. "You girls have been around boys too much. Girls do much more than that," Mrs. Liza said, putting a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. (But she didn't want to be touched.) "Who else are you going to talk to? Certainly not any boyfriends," Mrs. Ella said to her customer. "And there are things you just can't tell your father, or even your mother!" "Oh, yes they can," their father spoke up. "I may not want to hear it, but I will! This family is going to be going through enough changes without others coming in out of nowhere because someone was too embarrassed or afraid to warn us." "Spoken like a new father!" a man's voice said. (Jesse's took her hand away from the girl.) "Who are you?!" Steve asked, under a deep frown, at the intruder. "I am the floorwalker. We seem to have developed a problem with flow," he said, directing their gaze with his, over to the number of women and children who were browsing, discussing, and generally milling about (when they weren't glancing or staring at the three odd girls and the man with them). "I know how hard it is for women to do anything without gabbing, but-" "But right there, Mister floorwalker!" Steve interrupted him with his sternest of voices. "These girls, my daughters, are, like you said, new to me. They're each going to need a new wardrobe. Now; do you think that's worth the little extra time these kind ladies are giving them? Or should I take my money to another store?" "We-ell! Why didn't you say so? How can we be of help, unless you speak up!" the man, whose nameplate identified him as "Mr. Terwilleger", said with a very stupid grin. "I have six children of my own, you know." Then he said with a disappointed tone, "All girls." "The women will be just fine, thank you." While they had been talking, a male salesclerk had approached the floorwalker. He now was within speaking distance, "Mr. Benny is here." "Oh, no," the floorwalker said, as if he'd just received news that his seventh child was a girl. Just before he left, he said, "If you'll excuse me. We have a mutual annoyance pact." "I'm beginning to see what you meant by 'girls must stick together,' Tammy said. "Oh, don't mind that supercilious stuffed-shirt," Tammy's salesclerk said. "His 'mutual annoyance pact' is with just about everybody," Jesse's said. "And he's in charge?" Tammy said with a sense of injustice that only someone her age could have. "We were talking about a wardrobe for you girls," Steve said, not wanting to see any injustice. "You said something about dressing to satisfy the girls." "Boys don't pay attention to what a girl wears, except whether it attracts them." "You mean revealing," Jesse said. "Sexy!" "Tammy!" her father warned. "I don't want to be sexy," Winnie said. "It is the other girls you must dress for. They pay attention to every detail. The wrong kind of clothes, and you become competition, not company." "Well, they're not going to have to worry about me being any competition," Jesse declared. "I'm going to be in the baggiest, ugliest clothes I can find." "Then you wouldn't be part of the company!" his woman sounded almost like a concerned mother, putting her hand back on the girl. "You mean they'd be out of 'uniform '?" Steve asked. "Spoken like a man," she said, but the tone told them that that was the general idea. "The company you keep develops guidelines," the other clerk said. "And, especially at your age," Mrs. Liza said to her. "they keep changing as, well; you and they change." "They mean, if you wear clunky clothes, you'll throw a monkey wrench into the works," Tammy said. "Language is another thing that must be acceptable to a company of girls," Mrs. Ella told her. "It's as I thought," Steve nodded his head with renewed determination. "Normal girls want to be, uh, attractive. But they do not want to attract too much attention." "Especially at certain times of the month," Mrs. Liza commented. "Month?" Winnie asked. "Yes," Steve said, remembering his married days. "We'll take clothes that are of, the traditional sort. The classics. You can't go far wrong with those." "What does that mean?" Winnie asked. "It means we're wearing dresses and skirts," Jesse told him. "Of the sort you see on wholesome television shows," Tammy added for further identification. "I still don't see why," Winnie grumbled. "It's so we don't mess with girls' psyches," Jesse told him. "So it's okay to mess with mine?" "Blouses are okay," Steve Douglas said. "But only if they have ruffles, or lace," he was looking around, and finding little evidence of them, "...or whatever is acceptable nowadays. I don't want you to think of them as just a girl's version of shirts." "Why not?!" Winnie asked. "I think that's a neat idea." "I thought so," her father nodded his head. "Which is why it's not a 'neat' idea. When you get use to looking like a girl, then we'll talk about, uh, 'dressing down.' " "Aw, nuts." "Look here, Dad," Jesse said. "Kilts!" "Hey, yeah!" Winnie said, hurrying over to the rack of skirts. "You're Scottish...I mean, your grandparents came from over there, didn't they?" "Right... Guys wear kilts," Jesse said, taking one. "They also wear sporrans," he reminded them, on his way over. "Sporran?" Jesse asked. "It's a kind of purse, with fur on it!" Winnie said. "Can I have one of those, too." "Oh, yeah. Now, I remember," Jesse said. "They're sort of like old-fashioned athletic cups. Can I have a purse like that?" "Athletic cups?" Steve asked. "Why would a girl need-" "This is the McDougal tartan," Winnie said, looking at it. Then, she turned to the rack. "How do you know what kind it is?" Jesse asked. "I'm a Douglas, now. I went and got some books all about Scotland. Don't they have a Douglas tartan in here?" "I'm afraid not," Mrs. Liza said, returning from the children's department with a couple of bags full of different items. "Those are mass marketed kilties." "Kil-ties ?" Steve Douglas said, as if somebody had maybe Americanized one thing too many. The clerk set the bags down out of the way, "You wrap it around your hips, and pin it with a safety pin." "Like a diaper?!" Winnie squawked, no longer interested in the things. "You can hide it with a belt, can't you?" Jesse said. "With long kilts, like they use in the festivals," Steve Douglas said, "an ornate pin can be used to-" "You mean jewelry!" Winnie said. "Do you have any with buttons? Or zippers? There are some over here!" "They're part of the St. Thaddeus uniform," the clerk informed them. "We're not Catholic; we're Presbyterian. Well, the Douglas's are; I don't know what I'm suppose to be," Winnie said. "Wait a minute, Winnie," Steve said, barely registering how easy it was becoming to call his former boys by their new names. "They accept children from other faiths, don't they?" "I believe so," the Mrs. Liza said. "Dad, what are you saying!" Jesse asked. "School! I just thought of it. With so many other things on my mind, I completely forgot about your schooling." "I can forget about it," Jesse said. "I like school!" Winnie said. "That's because you're weird," Jesse said. "I don't think we want to send you back to your old schools," their father said. "That's for sure!" Jesse said. "I'd rather crawl under a rock and eat worms," Winnie said. "Honestly! I can't believe that you haven't worn a bra before! How did you survive this long, with a bust like that !" "Are all bras this uncomfortable? At least the flounce didn't constrict like this elastic thing," Tammy was telling her clerk, as she dug her fingers into the green prison-stripe double-knit she was now in. "I can understand why being with your family is so important to you right now," Mrs. Ella said. "But you need to be in the woman's department." "I'm a teenager , not a woman. I think." "Not with those measurements!" "Would you mind?" Tammy's father asked the woman. "You know what a young woman needs. But," he said, eyeing what Tammy was in at the moment, "just the basics." "I don't know," the clerk said. "The trends these days are for garish colors and patterns, new fabrics, shorter and shorter hems--." "No child of mine will be a hippie!" "It's "mod", Dad," Tammy corrected him. "That , either! I want a respectable family. We'll worry about what 'company' we keep later, after we have learned more about what it's like to be a girl. Once we get our footing, then we can maybe try to be more hep, or mod, ...or in the groove . "After we're in California. "There, when we make our mistakes, we won't stand out." "Well...," the Mrs. Ella said, thinking. "With the right accessories, I suppose she'll be able to get by with just the basics." She smiled, and nodded at the young woman, "I know just the things to make you a 'happening chick'!" "A chick!" Tammy yelped. And as the saleswoman was about to leave, the father said, "And make sure there's plenty of lace!" "No one wears lace, today," the Mrs. Liza told him. "I like lace on a girl!" Steve Douglas said, frowning. "The girls I grew up with wore lace. Their mother wore lace. If there is one thing that sets a girl apart from a boy it's lace." "Lace!?" Jesse complained. "I thought wearing a dress was bad enough," Winnie said. "At least you're kids," Tammy said, grumbling even more. "Do you know what it means for a girl my age to be seen with lace?!" "No, tell me," Jesse asked, fearing that she wasn't that much of a kid. "Why don't we compromise?" the woman suggested to the father. "There are all sorts of lacy, very feminine lingerie." "Lingerie? Am I old enough for that kind of stuff?" Winnie asked "It's just a French word for girls' underwear," Jesse said. "I told you they have to be different." "Please, Dad!" Tammy pleaded. "Underneath, I'll be girled up to the nines: Won't that be enough?!" "Well...," Steve considered it. "They have bows!" the clerk said. He looked at his three former boys. "I guess I am asking you a lot of you guys." "I'll say," Jesse said. "You said it!" Winnie agreed. "I think I know of some outfits that will be acceptable to all," the clerk said, hurrying to the back of the department. "It's just that I want you to know that you do have another life!" Steve begged for their understanding. "You will only make things more difficult on yourselves, if you drag it out, and give yourselves the chance to build up your fears and resentments." "I understand what you're saying, Dad," Tammy said. "And I agree with you." "But it's another thing to actually have to do it," Jesse said. "Feelings are involved, then." "Uh, oh!" Winnie said. "Why do you have to have such bad timing, Winnie!" Jesse asked, starting to squeeze her thighs together, too. "Hey, it was something that I was able to hold it back this long. But when you started talking about feeling things..." "Come on!" their father said. "Let's get you to the ladies' room before you have another accident." "Ladies' room!" Winnie gulped. "Boy," Jesse said, hurrying as best she could, "I've been using muscles I didn't even know I had." "Muscles, I wish I didn't know I had," Tammy said, standing there. Coming out of the door, a woman, old enough to be make him feel much the younger, eyed the man standing outside the ladies' room. "I, I'm waiting for my daughters!" he explained. She walked by him without a word, but continued to give him a wary look. He was about to get another drink from the water fountain, when, "Excuse me, Dad!" Tammy said, coming by in a stiff-legged run. "What??" "I think we're in sync!" she said, pushing on the door. "What kind of mutation does that!?" he asked. "You are NOT to come into the men's room, Winnie!" Steve said, firmly ushering her out. "But I had to come and get you: There's something wrong with Jesse!" "There is?" her father said, looking at the door of the ladies' room. "At first, she gave this cry; it wasn't like anything I heard before. It was a moan, like she hurt herself. Can girls hurt themselves just going to the bathroom, Dad?" "Tammy's in there,"