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Paprikash I've been a high school history teacher for 15 years. I like what I do, for the most part, even though the kids aren't especially attentive. Every once in a while, though, you manage to break through and that's a reward. There are other kinds of rewards, too, if you have sufficiently strong nerves. Young girls today seem to be so much more brazen than they were when I was that age - then again, I sometimes wonder if I missed out on so much because I was shy and tried to do things the right way. Some of my colleagues make veiled references to what can only be liaisons with students, but, as I said, you have to have strong nerves, and I don't. Not that I haven't been sorely tempted at times, and never more than this year, when providence has seen fit to place in my path Stacy Halloran. Stacy is 5-4, 112 pounds; she has lovely ash blonde hair that, when she wears it out, falls to a few inches below her shoulders, large bright blue eyes, a cute little nose that seems to come to a point and lovely full lips. The very first time I saw her, I actually felt a little light-headed, so taken with her was I. I have since learned that she wears a 34C bra, is partial to demi-cups and generally likes lacy under things. How I learned this is...well, I'll get to that in a bit. I first saw Stacy before homeroom on the first day of school this year. She was in the homeroom next to mine, so that made her a junior (she had turned 16 over the summer). On her way into the classroom, our eyes had happened to meet, and my jaw dropped; she smiled in a way that I couldn't decipher - innocent and friendly, or malevolent and calculating? I tried with difficulty to dismiss her from my mind, but then she walked into my history class the last period of the day, and that's how I discovered her name. She sat in the front row with her legs crossed so that even though her short skirt rode well up her thighs (her legs were just marvelous), she kept those thighs clamped tightly together. Twice during the class, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, each time giving me a momentary flash of white; each time, I stumbled in my presentation to the class, and each time her eyes laughed at me. I went back to my apartment after school that day. I live alone, having married at 24 and divorced at 25. Being somewhat shy, I haven't had a lot of women in my life, and so my main source of gratification has long been masturbation. Usually, I find some really erotic material to stroke to and take as long as I can, but this day, all I could see was Stacy in her short skirt, long legs and high heels and I rubbed myself furiously and came in record time. A couple of hours later, I did it again. The next morning, I got up and, while taking a shower, noticed that I was erect once again, and again I thought of Stacy and brought myself off. By now, I was starting to get sore, but it didn't seem to matter. Morning and night, I found myself gratifying myself as much as I could stand, and always with visions of Stacy. Of course, she seemed to wear nothing but short skirts, tight shorts or jeans, low cut tops and high heels, and she bedeviled me with the most inviting of glances. A few weeks after school had started, I called on her in class. I sometimes called on students to put them on the defensive and wake them up, or sometimes just to increase participation in the class. If I'm honest, I called on Stacy because it was the only way I could talk to her and make sure I got a response. "Who can tell me what famous Indian tribe allied themselves with the French in the French and Indian War? Ms. Holloran?" At first, she looked stunned. Then she broke into an embarrassed grin. "I...I don't know," she said with a giggle. "I suggest you find out," I said sharply. I called on someone else, who answered "Iroquois", which was the answer I was looking for. I continued the lesson, and the next time I glanced down at Stacy, she was sitting with her feet on the floor, her knees together, and a stunned expression on her face. For the next few days, she made no eye contact with me and she did not flash her panties at me. I decided to call on her again, this time asking a question about Mercantilism. Other than knowing that it had to do with the manner in which European countries treated their colonies, she didn't have much of an answer. The following Monday, I gave them a test. Stacy's answers to the objective questions - true/false and multiple choice - were better than I'd expected, but on the questions in which she had to put together a complete answer and write it out, she did very poorly, and she barely passed the test. The day I gave back the graded test, she left the classroom at the end of the period, but then came back when everyone else had left. "Why did you give me such a bad grade?" she asked. Her voice was much softer than when she usually spoke, and there was a note of anxiety, even sadness, running through it. Her eyes were pleading. "You didn't answer the written questions well at all," I said in as businesslike fashion as I could manage. "It was as if you could pick the right answer if it was presented to you, but couldn't come up with it yourself." As I spoke, all I could think of was the way the neck on her top seemed to plunge down just at the middle, showing off her cleavage to great advantage. I could feel myself getting rock hard, and I didn't even hear what she said in return. "Well?" she demanded, snapping me out of my reverie. My member was throbbing with desire, and I felt the most urgent need to get myself off. "I'm sorry," I stammered. "I was distracted." "I said, 'What...do I have to do...to get a better grade?'" "Lie on my desk and let me fuck you senseless," I heard my mind reply. In my mind's eye, I could see her complying, jumping up on the desk, raising her knees, the hem of her skirt falling back toward her waist. I saw myself reaching for her panties and pulling them down, then dropping my pants... "Just do the reading, listen in class, answer when I call on you and do the assignments," I said aloud. Somehow, my voice sounded a little huskier than normal. She rolled her eyes and turned to leave. "Why?" I asked. "Were you looking for some other way?" She stopped and turned to stare back at me. She said nothing and turned back for the door, the hem of her skirt flaring up as she did, and left. I quickly made for the men's room, aware that not only was there a tent in the front of my pants, but that there was a wet spot there as well. I rushed into one of the stalls, closed the door, dropped my pants and stroked myself two or three times before spewing semen all over the toilet seat. My fantasies of Stacy stayed with me that night, and I dozed fitfully in between furious masturbating episodes every couple of hours. The next day, she wore a short tight black skirt and a tight pink top with black heels. She constantly uncrossed and recrossed her legs, giving me lots of glimpses of pink lace. In between, she let one shoe dangle seductively from her toe. In response, I gave the class a number of passages to read in class, and after class ended, I again needed to rush to the men's room for immediate relief. And so it went. I called on her sometimes to harass her, but she usually had the answer at least part right. She continued to give me little shows and to generally drive me crazy. I wondered if anyone else in the class had caught on, but aside from the usual comments and wisecracks, I saw nothing to give me pause. It was a Friday in early November that felt I had to do something to break the rut I was in. I hadn't spoken to Stacy, other than in class, since that one time, but every day and night I had masturbatory fantasies about her. My member had gotten very sore, and I was getting nervous. I resisted the usual end-of-class urge and forced myself to go home. I took a cold shower, which actually did help a little. I then decided that it was Friday night and I should go out for something to eat, even though I would be dining alone. There was a restaurant at the local mall that featured cuisine of Central and Eastern Europe that I liked, so I drove over there. Before going in to eat, I browsed around a bit. I was walking past Victoria's Secret and getting a buzz from all the lovely lingerie when I stopped - there, inside, choosing from some of the sexiest panties I'd ever seen, was Stacy. I stood and watched while she sorted through a number of items, until finally she picked up a pair of sheer white thong bikini panties, trimmed with a little white lace. These she held up, as if to fully examine them, and at the same time gave me a perfect view. I got hard just seeing them; she suddenly looked up and saw me, our eyes locking, and she slowly smiled what could only be a very wicked smile. Although I had a painful erection, I dashed off to the restaurant. I got a table in the corner and ordered a glass of Hungarian red wine. A few minutes later, Stacy, carrying a little bag from Victoria's Secret, came in with a woman I assumed was her mother. "Hi," she said as she came over while her mother continued to a table on the other side of the restaurant. My member, which had been softening, again got very hard. "Hello, Stacy," I said, trying to sound like the responsible teacher. She laughed softly. "Oh, my, don't we sound formal? Okay, have it your way. Hello, Mr. Landers. Did you like what I picked out?" I blushed and stammered a reply that was little more than gibberish. "Enjoy your dinner," she said with a humorless laugh, and went to rejoin her mother. The hostess, who had given me a funny look when I first came in, was now glaring at me from the front of the restaurant. But I was even more surprised when she turned and momentarily looked off at Stacy. I had seen this woman before at the restaurant. She was of medium height with very dark brown hair that had subtle red highlights. Her eyes were large, dark and penetrating, and her brow almost always seemed to be furrowed. Her features were very sharp and angular and she was pencil-thin. She could not be called attractive by any measure, but she had a face that almost forced you to look at her, and when you did, if felt as if she was looking through you.l A friend of mine had once dubbed her "Vlad's Sister", a reference to Vlad Tepis, the ruthless fourteenth century commander on whom the fictional character of Dracula was based. I had though of that upon entering the restaurant tonight, and had shuddered when she had immediately glared at me. Her expression now, though, was quite different - threatening, but not out of personal anger; although from what I could not have said. Perhaps she just didn't like 40 year old guys ogling 16 year old girls. I ordered paprikash, a favorite of mine. But tonight it tasted a little odd. I could not tell what was wrong, it just tasted different. Not badly, mind, just different. As I ordered desert and coffee, it occurred to me that, for the first time in a long time, seeing Stacy had not resulted in an erection that could only be relieved one way. I had gone soft and remained so through the meal, and for that alone I was thankful. I paid the bill and prepared to leave. I decided on the way out to stop by Stacy's table and say goodbye. I didn't want it to end on the note of our conversation. But as I approached, I heard her say, "What's different about the paprikash, Mom?" "It tastes the same to me, honey," her mother said. "Don't you like it?" "Oh, it's fine. I just thought it was - I don't know - a little different." "Maybe it was something you had before that is still on your palate." Stacy shrugged at that and kept eating, and I turned quickly and left without approaching the table. The hostess looked at me with interest as I left. When I got home, I started to proofread an article I had written for the local newspaper, but I had no sooner started but that I felt my eyelids getting very heavy. I tried to continue, but I could feel myself dozing off. "Must have had more wine than I realized," I said to myself aloud. I quickly got ready for bed, feeling myself getting drowsier all the time. By the time I got into bed, I was too tired to even conjure up a sex fantasy - of Stacy or anyone else - and fell asleep. Two "Come on, honey! You don't want to sleep the whole day away!" The voice seemed to come from out of a dense fog. I felt a very deep sense of confusion. On the one hand, I knew I lived alone, and no one had called me "honey" since I was a child. On the other hand, the voice sounded familiar and comforting, and the words seemed to be expected. "I need to wake up slowly, Mom," I called back. My eyes shot wide open. Mom? More important, the voice was not mine. Or maybe it was. It was young and feminine, and I was a middle-aged male, except that I was also a teenaged girl. I looked around the room - pink everywhere, except the dresser, desk, nightstand and bed, all of which were white. The walls were painted a pale pink, and on the windows were vibrant pink curtains. On the dresser were numerous bottles of various shapes and sizes, and I suddenly knew without looking that they were cosmetics of all kinds. I saw a closed door beyond the foot of the bed that I knew led to the hallway and the stairs, which led downstairs where Mom was getting ready to take Annie to soccer. Next to the bedroom door was another door which I suddenly knew was a closet containing a very large wardrobe. Also on top of my dresser was a little shopping bag in two tones of pink, and I knew that was from Victoria's Secret where I had bought several pairs of panties for the express purpose of teasing Mr. Landers, my geeky history teacher who seemed to have the hots for me. But, my mind tried to argue, I am Mr. Landers. "Stacy!" Mom called. "We're going. See you for dinner tonight!" "Okay!" I called back. I was about to add, "I'm going shopping with Jenna," but then I knew that she already knew that. I waited for the sound of the closing door downstairs before actually getting out of bed. My body felt lithe and agile, and yet it seemed it was supposed to be that way. The feeling of my breasts hanging loose and free, swaying slightly as I moved, was what I was supposed to be feeling. I walked over to the mirror and saw my ash blonde hair was a mass of tangles and strands going every which way, which meant that I hadn't brushed it before bed. I grabbed the hairbrush on my dresser and proceeded to brush out the knots and kinks, and soon the brush was running through smoothly. When I finished, I looked at myself in the mirror - there stood Stacy Halloran, as lovely as I'd known her to be, if still a bit sleepy. Slowly, I pulled the cotton nighty I was wearing over my head. The breasts I'd desperately wanted to see and touch were there in their glory. I brushed a nipple and shivered with delight, and suddenly realized that several boys had touched Stacy there - a few names came to mind, like Joe, Jeremy and Brandon, none of whom I knew, and yet I knew them very well. Jeremy had been my...that is, Stacy's...first boyfriend, and had kissed me on New Years Eve when I was 11. He had shyly touched my little boobs and I had loved it so much I'd even touched his thing, which had been so hard and hot. Brandon was Jenna's cousin and I had fallen for him over the previous summer. He had been the first boy I'd known who really knew how to touch a girl, and he had set me afire more than once, not only caressing my breasts but also touching my slit. All at once, I could feel wetness down there, and I quickly slipped off my cotton panties and explored my pubic area. I had sparse wispy pubic hair, thanks to some careful trimming by Jenna - she had shaved hers completely, but I hadn't wanted to. As I dipped a finger inside my wet slit, I was aware of two things - I had a hymen, so I was still definitely a virgin, and touching myself was something that I rarely did. I suddenly felt an internal conflict - part of me wanted to experience a female orgasm, and part of me knew I didn't like to masturbate. But as Dan Landers, I had for decades been satisfying my sexual urges by masturbating, and so that impulse won out. I moaned with pleasure as my finger slipped through the tight passageway partly blocked by my hymen. I used Dan's knowledge of female anatomy to play with my clit just the right way, and soon felt myself writhing and heard myself moaning with the release of pent up desire. I thrust my hips upward off the bed and rammed my pubis into the outstretched fingers penetrating the small channel, and soon felt wave upon wave of ecstasy crashing over me in my first real female orgasm. As I showered, I felt a little more of that inner conflict, and for the first time since my father had caught me at age thirteen, I felt guilty. But I also felt a sense of both discovery and release. What could all of this mean? For that matter, how was it that I was not only now in Stacy's body, but I seemed to really be Stacy? Did this mean that Stacy was now in my body? As I tried to think through all of this, I found myself becoming increasingly muddled as to where Dan ended and Stacy began. After I dried off and blew dry my hair, I went back into my bedroom to get dressed. I opened the closet door and noticed that, in addition to a rack absolutely stuffed with clothes, shoe racks on the floor and the shelf above the clothing rack and an upper shelf with several purses, there was a full length mirror on the inside of the door. As I inspected my new body again, I suddenly felt a rush of confidence that seemed not to have been there before. Could it be that, for all her beauty, Stacy was insecure? A glance in Stacy's panty drawer revealed that she definitely liked variety. I started to reach for the tiniest thong in her collection, but something stopped me. I picked up a pair of very brief yellow lacy boy shorts and pulled them on, then found a matching lace demi-cup bra. Next came a pair of skin tight stretch jeans, of which the seam settled snugly into my crotch. I went over to the mirror and admired the curve of my hips and my slim waist. A pale yellow sweater followed, and finally a pair of knee high stockings and a pair of black ballet flats. I sat down at my dresser and felt like I shifted to auto-pilot, applying eye shadow, mascara, eye liner, blush and lipstick. "You're a beautiful girl, Stacy," I said aloud. Whether it was Dan complimenting me or me reassuring myself, I couldn't have said. I only knew that it felt like a reassurance. The doorbell rang, and I knew that had to be Jenna. She had been my closest friend since before I'd started school, a neighbor who was a year older than me. Since junior high, I had looked up to her and confided in her about almost everything. "Hi," she said brightly. "Don't tell me...you just finished getting dressed and haven't even had breakfast, yet." I blushed because it was true, just as it was always true when she picked me up on Saturdays, and she laughed loudly. "So," she added. "Do I come in and watch you eat breakfast here, or are we going to eat on the way?" "Let's eat here," I said. "I'm starved. We ate at that Hungarian place last night and it wasn't that great." "Did you get to go to VS? Did your mom let you get the panties?" "Yes, and yes." She laughed again, excited. Jenna was pretty, but in a different way. She had very long dark hair, brown eyes, and very long legs. I suddenly knew that the fact that her bust was smaller than mine was sometimes a sore point with her, and one I never pressed. She definitely had more experience with boys than I did, and we compared notes a lot. I got some fruit out of the 'fridge and put on a piece of toast. I felt the side of the electric coffee pot and found it was still warm, so I poured myself a cup of coffee. I offered Jenna a cup, and she refused as I suddenly knew she always did. "So," she said, her eyes sparkling as they always did when she was thinking of something naughty. "What did Mom say about her sweet little angel dressing like a slut?" I threw a pot holder at her. "She said that if that's what I wanted to spend my allowance money on, then it was my money to do with as I pleased," I said, hearing Mom say the words in my mind. "But she let me know that they were not what a nice girl would wear, and wondered where I ever got the idea. I told her I saw a catalogue and got curious." She laughed uproariously at that, and I did, too. "Does that mean," she went on, "that you are going ahead with your plan?" She didn't seem to notice that, for a brief moment, I'd lost a little of my levity. For in that instance I recalled that the plan she referred to was my continuing campaign to discomfit my history teacher. Having found that he seemed unable to take his eyes off my legs and especially between my legs, and having realized that he would not actually force me to have sex with him, I was free to tease him as ruthlessly as I dared. It occurred to me that several other girls at school were aware of this, and all took delight in my tormenting him each day. It had actually been Marissa Hamilton who had suggested laying in a supply of sexy panties so that he'd never know what was coming next. But beyond that recollection was another, of the confrontation we had had after I'd gotten such a bad grade on the first test. Any second thoughts I might have had about my plan faded when I thought of that afternoon, when he'd all but said I would have to let him have sex with me if I wanted a good grade. For a moment, I had even considered it, since my grade average was actually very good, but then he'd seemed paralyzed by the thought, and I'd left in disgust, determined to do my best to make him squirm and make sure I studied as much as possible. I felt Dan rising up to protest in my mind, but I forced him down. I was Stacy, for the moment, and I wanted to make sure she had full say. I was learning so much about her so quickly, I didn't want to miss anything. I changed the subject with Jenna, and soon we were on our way. We ran into several other girls at the mall - Caitlin, Madison, Sarah, Beth and Emily. We shopped for hours, looking, trying things on, looking some more, gossiping...female communal life. Jenna told the girls about the panties I'd bought at VS the night before, and they all urged me on in my plot to drive Dan Landers over the edge. I laughed along while feeling pangs of remorse inside. I told Jenna that I had to get home early, and when she had dropped me off, I was glad to find the house empty. It was only 3:00, and I knew that Mom and Annie wouldn't be back until almost five, as Annie's travel team had an away game. I looked at the photos on the mantle. There was a picture of Daddy. He had died, I knew, when I was 10 and poor Annie was just 4. I could remember so clearly the paramedics taking him out after his heart attack, and Mom trying to look so brave and me trying to be brave while Annie just looked bewildered. It was the first time I'd been responsible for Annie, as Mom drove to the hospital behind the ambulance; when she'd gotten there, she'd found out that Daddy had died on the way. He'd left her a nice life insurance settlement, and they'd had some money put away. Mom had gone to work as a real estate agent and had done well, and all she wanted was for the three of us to live in comfort. She sometimes worked late hours and in such cases I took over the running of the house; I found I liked the responsibility. At puberty, she had been at my side, explaining all the changes taking place in my body and what they all meant. But she'd never quite explained the impact that my looks would have on boys and even men, and it had been a shock for me to find out. Now that Annie was starting to blossom, she was beginning to pester me with the same questions I'd asked, and I was wondering if Mom was going to start having special talks with Annie. Annie and I were so different! She loved sports, and had a very athletic body. Soccer was her best sport, but she was also good at basketball and a competitive swimmer. She and I had sometimes clashed because I was such a girly girl, but now that she was beginning to develop, I had the sense that she was looking at me very differently. As I thought about all this, it occurred to me that as the day went on, I seemed to know more and more about Stacy's life...my life. I still knew that I was Dan Landers, but somehow that seemed very far away. Still, the very fact that I knew that impelled me to find out what had happened and why. I had been thinking all day about what might be happening with Dan's body, and I suddenly decided to find out. I picked up the phone and dialed the number I still remembered. It rang a long time before anyone answered. "Hello?" said my voice, much more timid than usual, on the other end. What do I say? I realized that the soul within the other person was now a 16 year old girl, who, I knew from having been her all day, was smart but not brilliant, and who was not especially brave. I suddenly knew that she was probably terrified. "Hi," I said, softly. "Who is this??" Oh, dear. This is going to be more difficult than I thought. "First of all, you are not going crazy and neither am I," I said. "You need to accept that something very strange has happened, and that the only way we are going to get back to normal is to pool our resources. Just so you know that I understand your predicament, let me explain it in a nutshell." "All right." "As near as I can figure, your mind is in my body and my mind is in yours. You probably feel like you are two people, because my body includes my brain, which means my memories and my emotional reactions. You are feeling things the way I feel them, because your mind is tapping my brain cells. Correct so far?" "I don't know. I guess so. Everything seems so muddled. I keep thinking about me as if I'm another person...as if I'm a guy." "Right now, biologically, you are a guy. If you keep trying to direct your life as if you're still Stacy, I think it will be harder. Go with the brain waves and be Dan, and it will be easier, because of the frames of reference. I know this because I am having the same experience." "You mean...?" "Yes, I'm living as Stacy. I hung out with Jenna and the other girls today. Mom took Annie to a soccer game and won't be home until late. I wore the yellow boy shorts and bra set, and Mom had a fit last night when she saw the panties I bought but told me it was my money if that's how..." "She said that to me, not you!" I explained that she had explained it to Stacy, and since I was now in Stacy's body, I was reading Stacy's memory, sort of the way that one computer user saves a file on a hard disk and another comes along and can access it. Only it wasn't just memories I could read - I could read whatever markers the brain left in the synapses of the neurons within. "So," Dan said, "when I feel real desire for me...I mean, for Stacy, it's because of the markers your mind left behind in the neurons?" "Yes. And, when I have the desire to wear naughty panties to school on Monday, it's because of the markers your mind left behind in the neurons. But trying to be two people is very confusing, so it's better to limit it to one - the one whose body you're in. "There's one more thing that I've figured out. We have very different values and emotions, wants and desires. If while you are in my body or I am in yours, I suspect that if we want to indulge ourselves - that is, if Dan wants to experience something as Stacy that Stacy would not normally want to do - I can, but that, too, will leave a marker that you'll have to live with when we finally switch back." "How do you know?" "I don't, for sure. I suspect it because I stumbled across it by accident this morning. I masturbated." There was silence. I felt a pang of regret for having told her - him? - but knew I'd had to. "You seem to really like to do that," Dan's voice said at last. "When I first woke up this morning, I was hard as a rock. That was my first clue that something wasn't right." I started giggling uncontrollably. For the first time all day, I felt something like relaxation. I heard Dan laughing, too. "I hope you did something about it," I added. "No." The voice was flat. I waited, and presently, he continued. "I feel so...inhibited about that. I always have. In fact, I'm kind of upset that you did that in my body." "I'm sorry. I think that some of our desires carry over to our new bodies, and that's going to cause some internal conflict. I think until we can figure out what's going on and why, we should probably do our best to respect the other's values. I'll do my best if you will." "Okay. Just remember that I'm...that is, Stacy is a virgin." "Yes, I know. And she'll stay that way as long as I have anything to say about it. Now, when can we meet? I think it's important that we try to piece together what happened." We agreed that he would meet me in front of school at 8:00. Three Having told Mom I was meeting some friends, and having been able to duck out when she was on the phone so that I never had to say which friends, I made my way to the school, still wearing my ensemble from early in the day. I wanted to show that I was respecting Stacy's values, and I also wanted to make sure that I didn't unintentionally trigger any of Dan's desires. I saw the familiar blue Toyota pull into the lot. Even though I'd known what was coming, seeing my male personna staring at me was strange. I smiled weakly as I heard Dan's voice say, "You look cute in that." He was referring to the white knit tam I had put on because it was getting colder. "Thanks," I said. "I found when I woke up this morning that I tend to be somewhat insecure about my looks. I shouldn't. I'm really quite pretty." He smiled at me and nodded. We talked a little more. Since our conversation a little earlier, he had finally relaxed enough and had masturbated, and when he blushed when he told me, I laughed and thought that was probably very appropriate. "You don't get out enough and meet women," he said. "I mean, I don't..." "It's okay, I know what you mean. And if you probe Dan's memory, you'll find that it hasn't been from lack of trying." "No, but fantasizing about teenaged girls isn't the answer, either." I was taken aback by the rebuke, and, quite defensively, fired back one of my own. "Kind of difficult not to when the teenaged girl flashes her panties all day long in class." We stared at each other, and then the light bulb went off inside my head. We each had some things to teach one another. That was the key, and I told Dan that. "The key to what?" "Getting switched back. If only we could find the source of the switch, then we could see if my theory holds up. Since we changed last night, it has to be something that happened last night, when we saw each other in Victoria's Secret..." "And the restaurant!" Dan cried. "That Hungarian woman, or gypsy, or whatever she is. There was something odd about the paprikash, and..." "I had that, too!" I cried. "I think you're right. I think that woman is the key." Dan started the car and drove to the mall. When we got there, he seemed nervous about going in together, and I realized he was right. To anyone who didn't know us, we would just look like a typical father and daughter. But anyone who knew us would know Dan was the teacher and I was the student, and who knows what might ensue. So, we went in separately. Then, Dan loitered outside the restaurant while I went inside. The place was practically empty, and the hostess smiled broadly when I came in. "So, you are as sharp as I thought," she said. "Where's your better half?" She laughed at her play on words, and I leaned out the door and waved to Dan, who came in quickly. "Come," she said shortly, and we followed her downstairs to her office. It was a small, dimly lit room with heavy furnishings and a thick crimson carpet that seemed to mute sound., and the walls were covered in a richly detailed wallpaper of the same color. She sat behind a large mahogany desk with a small lamp on it and a number of small but delicately crafted hummels - figurines depicting peasant men and women who appeared to be worn down by labor, very different from anything I had seen before. We sat in the two guest chairs on either side of her desk. She appeared to be studying a document of some kind when, without looking up, she said, "Stacy." "Yes?" I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dan start, but he didn't say anything. Slowly, the woman looked up at me and smiled. "Ah, you understand," she said. "Very good. You," she added, turning to Dan, "still are not sure. That is all right. Understanding will come. "Tell me," she said, turning back to me. "How did you enjoy today? Was it difficult to adjust to being someone else?" "At first it was very disconcerting," I said, carefully. "But I think I did all right." "I did not ask you how you did; I asked you how you enjoyed it." Something about her glare seemed to compel me to be completely truthful. "I enjoyed it very much." "Yes. I thought you might. Tell me, was it what you thought it would be?" Again, I felt compelled to be completely forthcoming. "I hadn't thought about being Stacy," I said. "Hadn't you? As you were so desperately lusting after her, weren't you wondering just what it might be like to actually be that beautiful little creature? Hadn't you spent time speculating to yourself what it must be like to trigger such powerful desires in men?" The question took me by surprise. For in truth, I had wondered how it felt to be Stacy, to be so desired. So often, I had seen women react to openly lustful stares from men with looks of disgust, and it had always struck me as a paradox that women who worked so hard to make themselves beautiful and desirable were so repulsed by the men with whom they succeeded. As I explained all of this, I was aware that I was talking as Dan rather than as Stacy, and as I finished, I wondered if that would draw her ire. But she simply asked what I thought, now. "I haven't felt anyone's desire, directly," I said. I shuddered a little as I felt Stacy's nature come forward. "But I remember things that have happened in the past, and especially when my teachers look at me with such hunger. It frightens me." I had not actually thought about that before. But Stacy's emotional memory was very strong. "How did you do that?" Dan asked. "I told you, I can remember anything that is in your memory, and if you try, you can remember anything that is in mine. But when you do, you have to let yourself go and become Dan, or else you will feel powerful confusion," I said. The woman, whose name I recalled was Elena, nodded with satisfaction. "Very good, Stacy," she said. "Tell us more." I repeated everything I had told Dan about what I had discovered about memory, emotional responses and values. Then I added something that had just occurred to me. "Of all these, values are the most strongly resident with ourselves rather than what is stored in our brains, because they have formed over our lifetimes. I work Dan's will as Stacy even if it's something Stacy would never have wanted to do, but there will be an emotional reaction later, first within myself and later when Stacy's essence is returned to her body. At least," I added nervously, "I would think so." "You are quite correct, Stacy. You are, as I've always suspected, a very bright young woman." "Then why have you done this to us?" Dan asked. For the first time, Elena looked upon us with something like warmth. "You think I have done something terrible, don't you?" she asked. "You think I have cruelly placed your mind in the body of someone whom you have regarded with powerful negative emotions. Well, perhaps I have. After all, there is no guarantee that this will work as I have planned. But I thought it worth the chance." "What did you intend?" I asked. "No," Elena said with a smile. "I cannot tell you that. I will tell you a few ground rules, though. You have carried your wills with you so that you may make free choices. You both now know that making choices requires responsible consideration on both your parts. "You must do your best to experience life as the person you are now. If, for example, Dan were to try to regain emotional standing as Stacy, the internal conflict would be quite disastrous. You are living as the other person to gain that person's perspective. "You will not be able to remain as you are now, permanently. That does not mean that you will necessarily change back. If you are untrue to the rules I lay down, I will see that you are punished quite horribly. You are each responsible for each other in a way that people rarely get to be; do not disappoint me." "Is there anything else?" Dan asked, still sounding quite nervous. "There is one more rule, but I will not tell you unless I think you need to be told." "Why not?" "Because as of now you do not need to be told." "Can I take a guess?" I asked lightly, feeling suddenly playful. "No." "I'm sorry," I said, suddenly contrite. "Can you at least tell us how long this will last?" Dan asked. I suddenly had the sense that he was trying to protect me, to deflect some of Elena's annoyance. I was grateful. "I don't know how long it will last. That depends on both of you. Once you have repaired what needs repairing, you will change back. However, the longer you stay in this condition, the less your wills will be yours and the more they will be like the person you are now." "In other words," I said, "the less we will be able to have a positive impact on the other's life." "That is quite perceptive of you, my dear." She stood suddenly, and we both stood with her. "Mr. Landers, please take Stacy home," Elena said, crisply. "Glad to," he said. "Do you understand any of this?" Dan asked me when we were back in the car. "Some of it. I think we are each expected to make some change in the other person, a positive change that will stay with the person after we've changed back. But there's something of a time limit, because the longer we stay this way, the more we'll be like the other person. In other words, the longer I'm Stacy, the more I'll be like the real Stacy and the less able I'll be to make any change." "Do you like being Stacy?" he asked at last. "Yes, very much." "So, she was right? You really would like to stay...like this?" I thought about that. "Part of me would. But part of me knows that can't be." He turned onto my street. I was amazed to see that Mom and Annie weren't home, yet, and I wondered if Elena somehow had something to do with that. We pulled into the driveway, and I started to get out, but stopped. "Thanks, Mr. Landers. This was very nice of you," I said. "You're so beautiful!" he suddenly gasped. I frowned, and he suddenly looked ashamed. "Sorry," he added. "I guess I just let myself be Dan and that came out. You...that is, he...must have felt very powerful desires for...Stacy." I nodded. "But you really are beautiful," he added. "And I'm glad I said it. And I hope you wear something nice to school on Monday. Only, please don't act slutty. You're much too nice for that." "I know. I'm sorry." I got out of the car, feeling strange for having apologized for something Stacy had done. But we'd both understood that what had just happened was good for both of us. Four As soon as I got into the house, I checked the answering machine, and was glad there had been no calls. I had a sudden thought - set the table or Mom will be pissed. I had just finished setting the three places when I saw headlights pulling into the driveway. The side door burst open and Mom and Annie came in, carrying bags of Chinese food. "We decided to stop for take-out," Mom said. "Hey! You set the table! Thank you, sweetie!" She gave me a big hug. Then they both started to tell me about how Annie's team had played so well, and how it had been so important, being late in the season, and they'd moved into first place. I hugged Annie, and she clung to me. "So," she said. "What did my big sister do today?" "I went to the mall with Jenna and met some of the girls," I said. "We had a nice time." "See any boys?" Annie asked, teasingly. I glanced at her, surprised, and saw that Mom did, too. "Boys? Since when do you care about boys?" I asked. She started to stammer a reply, and I moved in with delight for the kill. "Don't tell me that boys have suddenly started to register on your all-sports all- the-time mind!" "Well..." she said, but I cut her off. "Who is he?" I demanded. Mom tried to head me off, but I was determined. "Come on," I said. "What hunk of junior high manhood has turned my little sister's head?" "All right," Mom said. "Let's eat before it all gets cold." "Any pork buns?" I asked. Mom looked at me in surprise. "Honey, I didn't know you liked pork buns. When did you start eating those?" Actually, as Dan I loved pork buns, and whenever I had Chinese food, I always ordered one or two. I was a little concerned that some of Dan's tastes had broken through Stacy's fa?ade, but I shrugged it off, especially when Mom said she'd make sure she got some next time we ordered out. I decided that I had just expanded Stacy's horizons a little. I remembered that Stacy had nothing planned that night, so I settled in with Mom and watched a movie on TV. It was my first major indication since the change that Stacy was not the typical teenager that I had imagined. After the movie, I showered and was doing my nails in my room when Annie came in wearing her nightgown. "Hi, sis," she said, softly. This was very un-Annie-like, and I assumed it was because of my teasing her at dinner, so I apologized. "Oh, that's okay," she said. "It was kind of fun. And, actually, it's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." I felt a rush of panic and suggested she might want to talk to Mom. "No, no, no," she said, showing a little impatience in a manner I knew I'd never seen before. There was something endearing about it, and it reminded me of how much I really loved my kid sister. "Mom will just give me the standard parent stuff, extra strong 'cause it's just her and us." I thought that was very perceptive of her, but it also made me more nervous. I'd only been a girl for a day, and now my tween sister was about to ask me for advice. I tried to make myself be exclusively Stacy for this, because I knew that's what Annie needed. "I kind of like Dave Clarkson," she said. I knew that she and Dave had played intramural soccer together and had been in the same class most of the time they'd been in school. Dave had dropped soccer and now played mostly basketball, but he wasn't serious about it. "Actually, I think he likes me, and I like that." "Sounds good to me," I said. "I always thought he was nice." "Really? You see? I knew you'd be straight with me!" "So, what's the problem?" I asked, gently. "How do I let him know I want him to, like, be a boyfriend and not just a kid I know from school?" I gave her a lot of suggestions, starting with just talking to him in an open and friendly way. I told her not to tease him or act silly, which we girls were often tempted to do - as were boys - because we felt so uncomfortable. I told her about some of my early dating experiences, leaving out the parts about having my breasts touched or even being kissed. "How old were you when you had your first real kiss?" she asked. I told her about Jeremy when I was 11. "So," she said with determination, "it's time." "There is no 'time'," I said. "It just happens when it happens. Don't think you have to rush or anything." She nodded and sat quietly. Her eyes were pretty, and when she let her hair fall naturally around her face and down past her shoulders, like it was now, you could see how gorgeous she would be in a few years. But as I watched her, I was dreading a new topic, one I suddenly knew was coming, unstoppable. "Are you a virgin?" she asked me. I nodded, and she added, "Really?!" "What kind of girl do you think I am?" I demanded, and she laughed. "No, it's just that you're so pretty and you dress really sexy sometimes, and boys seem to go crazy over you, so I just thought that maybe..." "Well, I'm a virgin." "Then what's with all those super-sexy panties you bought at VS the other night?" "I like how they feel on me," I said. "I really wanted to wear something...I don't know...grown up." She got quiet again, and I knew she was working up to asking me something even more difficult. I was right. "Sometimes," she said softly, "I get these...feelings..." "Like what?" "Inside. Down there. I feel all...I don't know...tingly. It makes me uncomfortable and at the same time I almost kind of like it. Do you ever feel that way?" she asked, and I nodded. "Do you ever want to touch yourself down there?" Alarm bells went off in my head. I knew very well what Stacy would say, and I suddenly knew that my answer was going to have an impact on both Stacy and Annie. I decided to answer as faithfully as possible to what Stacy would say. "I think all girls do," I said. "It's part of discovering who we are." I stopped there, hoping it would strike the right balance and not draw me into anything more committal. "You mean it's okay if I do?" she gasped. I wanted to groan, but found myself laughing instead. "There's nothing harmful about it. You just have to make sure it doesn't take over your thoughts and who you are." "But," she pressed, "it's okay. I mean, it's not a sin or anything like that." "I don't think it's a sin to touch yourself and find out what it feels like. But it's a bad thing if you become so into playing with yourself that you don't bother with other people." "Some of my friends do that a lot. Kayla sometimes spends hours playing with herself. She says if you play enough, really cool stuff happens, but she won't say what it is." I told her that playing with yourself could result in a climax called an orgasm - a term she'd heard but didn't understand - and that most people found that very pleasurable. She then asked me if I did that, and I told her that I did it very rarely, which was the truth. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, and told me I was the very best big sister anyone ever had. Before she left, I told her to be careful and to always value herself. She smiled and nodded, then went back to her room. A little while later, I said good night to my Mom and Annie and went to bed. My vagina was very wet, and had been since my conversation with Annie. I was so tempted to play with myself, but I resisted for Stacy's sake. Sunday morning, Mom, Annie and I went to church. I got dressed in a nice sweater dress, stockings and heels and afterward we went out for brunch. After dinner, Mom got me aside and told me that Annie was coming to her with lots of questions and might possibly come to me to see what I had to say. "What about?" I asked, innocently. "What do you think?" she replied, and we both laughed. I told her Annie had already been to see me, and when she asked me what I'd told her, I'd said, "That's between Annie and me." "Good for you," she said softly and with great feeling. "You know, Stacy, I just feel as if something momentous has happened to you all of a sudden - you're suddenly a woman!" She hugged me, a long and lingering embrace that told me just how much she loved me. And I realized that it came as a bit of a surprise to Stacy that her mom carried such powerful emotions for her. I heard her sniffle and realized she was crying. "You've been such a brick since Daddy died," she said, and suddenly I was comforting her. For a moment, Dan intruded himself on Stacy, and I wished that I was holding Stacy's mom as Dan instead of as Stacy. I kissed her on the cheek and thought to myself, "Remember!" Sunday night, I finished up some homework, including an essay I was supposed to write for history. As I wrote, I felt Dan's consciousness more sharply than at any time since the change, and I realized that I had to really channel Stacy or else it would be very difficult for both of us. I couldn't pretend not to know what I knew, but I found that if I buried myself in Stacy's personna, some of what I had known as Dan would kind of get fogged in. Five The next morning, I was faced with a dilemma. I knew that would not carry on flashing and flirting as I'd been doing. But I also knew that several kids at school were now expecting me to, and I really didn't know what to do. The last thing I wanted to do was come off like some kind of goody-two-shoes. I picked a really cute denim miniskirt that flared away from my hips. I wore a pair of pink lace boy shorts underneath and a matching bra, and a pink sweater. Pink heels finished off the outfit. I did my makeup and went downstairs. "Oh, that's pretty," Mom said. She was getting ready for work. "I love that skirt." I poured a cup of coffee. Annie was still upstairs. "Mom," I said, softly. "Do you ever think you'll remarry?" Mom hadn't even looked at another man since Daddy had died. Maybe it was talking about growing up with Annie two nights before that had made me think about it. But she was slim and pretty, and a really nice person. She deserved to have someone special in her life. "Right now," she said, "I just want to make sure you and Annie are off to a good start." Jenna picked me up, and as soon as I was in the car, she said she liked the skirt, but that it looked a little more wholesome than she had expected me to look this morning. "Do you at least have a nice sexy g-string on?" she asked. I didn't answer. "Hey, what gives?" she asked, suddenly concerned. "I changed my mind," I said. I knew that if Jenna wouldn't understand, no one would. "I decided that it really isn't a nice thing to do, and it might give some of the boys at school the wrong idea." "But I thought you were so pissed off at this guy for, like, slobbering all over you every time he saw you?" "Yeah, I was. But maybe he can get past it, like if I start answering in class and stuff. I mean, I hate that guys are starting to think of me as just another blonde bimbo who'll put out at a moment's notice. The last thing I need is to go ahead and give them reason to believe it." She drove a little in silence, then decided she agreed with me. She drove a little further and asked, "So is that why you broke up with Brandon?" This was a sore subject. Brandon had been cute, funny, and making out with him had been fantastic. He was the only boy I had ever let touch me down there, and I'd loved it when he had. But then he'd only seemed to want more, and I got the distinct impression that he wouldn't be happy until he'd gotten my virginity, and I wasn't ready to give that up. Jenna knew this, but didn't quite understand. She'd done it for the first time when she was 15, and she'd done it a few times since. Once she'd done it the first time, her Mom had put her on the pill, and so she felt like it was okay to do it anytime she wanted. At the same time, she'd decided that sex wasn't so great by itself that she'd do it with anyone, and so she'd slowed down. "I broke up with Brandon because he was more interested in sex than he was in me," I said, and the subject was closed, as always. "So," she said, changing direction a little, "Do you really think that the guys in school think you're a slut?" I explained that I didn't think they did, yet, but that the thing about the sexy panties had gotten around, and now everyone in class seemed to know about it. If I kept it up, they'd know that, too, and soon that would be how they thought of me. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," she said, softly, and I knew not to take it as a challenge. I knew what she meant. Jenna thought I was too inhibited about my own body, and she knew that I didn't have as high an opinion about my looks as others did. "Maybe it would be good for you to realize just how gorgeous you are." Stacy tried to shrug, but I stopped it. I had been living in her body for two days, and I was growing very comfortable with it. But I really disliked her insecurity, and I was afraid that, uncorrected, it might lead down some really dangerous paths. Low self esteem can lead to abuse, and Stacy deserved so much better than that. "You know what?" I said. "I do realize that. But I also realize that acting cheap isn't going to do me any good at all, and could actually hurt." "You're starting to sound like you've been talking to your mom." "I have, but not about this. No, Jen, I thought about it and I decided that the best way to deal with this is to meet Mr. Landers on his home field and show him I've got a brain. And if he doesn't give me the recognition I deserve, then I'll report him to the school authorities. But, if he does give me what I deserve, then every boy will know it, and they'll know I'm not just a pretty face or hot body, I'm a person." "Whoa!" she said with a laugh. "Sounds like someone's been reading up on tough women of the '70s!" I had to laugh. "Okay, girlfriend," she said, softly. "Whatever you say." At school, a number of the other girls were disappointed, but I also think that they were relieved. None of us really wanted to go down the road we'd started. I saw Dan walking into his homeroom class as I was walking into mine, and we simply nodded greetings to one another. That afternoon, I walked into his class for history, sat down in my desk in the front, and promptly crossed my legs at the ankles, the way Mom had taught me when I was a little girl. The old motion felt comforting in my memory. Dan's consciousness silently told Stacy: you're beautiful, you're bright, and all you need to do is let it happen. "All right," Dan said as he settled in for class. I was glad to see he looked a lot more comfortable than he had when we'd talked on Saturday. "Today, I want to review a little about what we've been talking and reading about for the past few weeks, as a preparation for the test on Wednesday." There were some soft groans. "Who can explain Mercantilism to me?" he asked. "Mr. Kendrick?" Tim Kendrick was one of the few students in the class who really worked at it. He was bright but not brilliant, but the teachers loved him because he worked so hard. He had immediately raised his hand. "It was the theory under which Britain ruled the American colonies, and it held that colonies existed only to provide wealth to the mother country," he said. "Thank you," Dan said. "Anyone want to add anything to that?" He had said it to the class, but kept casting glances down at me. We both knew what I had taught the class about it, trying to get their interest. He had just tossed me a soft pitch, and I raised my hand, tentatively. "Miss Holloran?" "It wasn't just Britain that thought that way," I said, softly at first but them more strongly as I gained some confidence. "All of the colonizing countries did - Spain, Holland, France, all of them. And it wasn't just about their colonies. Mercantile theory held that there was only a limited amount of wealth to be had in the world, and so when one country acquired wealth, the other countries would be denied it. This was how they justified stealing from one another, and it is why wars were fought over their colonial possessions." "Excellent, Stacy. Thank you very much." Our eyes met and locked. We'd both just accomplished something we needed to do - he had put our relationship back on a normal basis and deferred to me in front of the class, and I had stood up and answered a question no one else could. The surge of confidence was so incredible I wanted to scream. After class, Caitlin and Madison, both of whom were in my class, cornered me in the hallway. "What just happened in there?" "She is woman, hear her roar," intoned Jenna, who had come up behind me. But the other two girls just stared at me. "I'm taking on Landers on his terms," I said. "And I'm going to make him respect me. I decided I'm not going to play into every guy's fantasies by acting like some kind of bimbo." The other kids were streaming past us, and in the crowd, I noticed Joe McMorris. Joe was also in my history class, and was probably the brightest of everyone in there. A lot of kids, including most of my friends, considered him a geek, and I guess he kind of was, but there was something about him that I liked, and when he caught my eye and smiled, I smiled back. "I cannot believe you like him," Caitlin said to me. "I just said hello," I replied. "It's not like I'm going out with him." "He'd never have the nerve to ask you," she replied. I just smiled and let it drop. I studied for Wednesday's test that night and the next. I didn't really have to, because I still remembered everything Dan had taught the class. But I wanted to make sure that Stacy retained everything, and I couldn't be sure how much of my memory she'd retain after we switched back. I called Dan Tuesday night, and when he answered, I just said, "Hi." He was definitely more comfortable than he'd been when we'd first talked. "Hey," he said. "Thanks for today. I felt like it was a victory for both of us. I can't tell you how happy it made me, you making me look so good." "But it was really you, "I said. "Stacy has wanted to shine all along, but just didn't have the confidence. That's all I gave. The rest was you. How are you doing?" "Okay. Is it me, or are the kids acting a little differently toward me than they were?" It was an interesting question. They definitely seemed to have settled down, as I hadn't heard anywhere near the number of wisecracks I'd been used to hearing, and the class had seemed more focused. I thought that there were probably two reasons for that - his improved focus in not lusting after me or any of the other girls, and me in not trying to distract him. "Uh, there is one thing I think you should know," he said. "I...um...haven't been able to slow down on that habit we discussed." I giggled. "You mean you like it?" I asked. "Well, enjoy." He paused, then added, very quietly, "If you want to, you know, do that, it would be okay with me. I wouldn't mind." I told him I'd think about it. He was about to ask me something - maybe about boys - but I told him I didn't think we should discuss too much of what we were feeling. Elena had made it pretty clear that the purpose of this was for each of us to live the other's life for a while. What made it difficult was not knowing how long "a while" was going to be. I went into the history exam focused and prepared. None of the girls teased me beforehand, as I had told them that I thought this was a vital moment for me. As the test was handed out, I made a decision to block as much of Dan's consciousness as possible so that this would be Stacy's achievement. Immediately, I was assailed by nerves. I told myself that I was a smart girl and I could ace this with no problem. I concentrated hard to give Stacy my confidence and nothing else, and then I started in on the test, which was 25 fill-in-the-blank questions on the period leading up to the Revolutionary War. "Who defended the British soldiers from the Boston Massacre?" was the first question, and I almost shouted for joy. My hand trembled a little as I wrote "John Adams" in Stacy's lovely script. Dan sat back and watched with a smile as Stacy batted out one answer after another. The next day, when Mr. Landers gave the tests back, I saw that I had gotten 100% and I inwardly beamed. I could hear grumblings around me, and I slowly realized that most of the class had done poorly. Mr. Landers underlined that fact when he finished distributing the test papers. "Yes," he said in as stern a voice as he had ever used in that class. "Not such a good result. Two of you got 100%; one other scored in the 90s; seven scored in the 80s; fifteen in the 70s; six between 65 and 70, and two of you actually failed the test. "Considering the fact that the subject matter is the history of your own country, that is a pathetic result. There is an old saying - those who fail to learn history are doomed to repeat it. Those of you who scored below 80 also got back an assignment sheet. That assignment is due next Monday, and anyone failing to complete it will be recommended for suspension." There was a collective intake of breath. Suspension was always considered a last resort. It was something I had thought about threatening, but had never actually done, and it occurred to me that there might be a complicating problem - I was controlling Stacy's body with the judgment of a mature adult; Stacy was controlling mine with the judgment of a teenager. There might be some interesting consequences when we finally changed back. I ran into Joe outside of class. He looked pretty happy, and I wondered if it was because he had gotten the other 100 on the test. So, I asked him. "Yes," he said, proudly. "But what do you mean, the 'other' 100? You mean that's what you got?" I smiled and nodded. "That's great, Stacy. Really, really great." Open school night was that night, and I decided to go with Mom, despite the fact that I knew it would be somewhat awkward for Dan and Stacy to be so close with Mom there, too. But something I couldn't pinpoint made me really want to be there. All my teachers were complimentary, although Mrs. Halstead, my math teacher, told me she thought I could do much better in math if I just applied myself, and she and Mom were both surprised when I promised I would. By the time we saw Mr. Landers, the lines had dissipated and it was a lot less crowded. "I'm very happy to meet you," he said to Mom as we sat down. "I want you to know that Stacy is a wonderful student, and a complete delight to have in class. You should be very proud of her." "I'm always proud of Stacy," Mom said with real feeling. She smiled at me, and I suddenly thought to myself, "Mom is really pretty. Dan would really like her." As I thought it, I glanced over at Mr. Landers, and he was completely focused on Mom. He was telling her about me, about my scoring 100% on the test, but he never took his eyes off her for a moment. Mom was beaming with pride. Six Friday morning, Annie was already at the breakfast table when I came down, and I did a double-take. She was wearing a skirt, something she rarely did unless it was a family occasion. As I came into the kitchen, she shot me a look that clearly said, "Please don't say anything." Mom had other ideas, though, and as soon as I came in, she said, "Doesn't Annie look wonderful in a skirt?" "Of course, she does," I replied with a wink at Annie. "She's my sister." "I've asked her what the occasion is," Mom went on, "but she won't tell me." "Then I guess we'll just have to respect that," I replied. Mom turned and looked at me, then laughed and went back to what she had been doing. Annie mouthed "Thank you" to me, and I reached under the table and patted her on the knee. The phone rang, and it was Jenna, telling me she had really bad menstrual cramps and was skipping school today. So, I would be walking to school with Annie, which I figured was a good thing. "So," I said as we turned on to the sidewalk and started toward school. "What's going on?" she started to protest, but I waved that away. "There is no way that you, Ms. Eternal Tomboy, suddenly turn up at breakfast on a school day, wearing, completely on your own initiative, a skirt, pantyhose and pumps. You look great; so, who are you looking great for?" She got really quiet. We walked in silence for a couple of blocks, and I searched Stacy's memory to see if I could come up with a possibility. But the only boys I could think of were guys she had played soccer with in i