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Martina's Twist Or, When Did I Miss the Chance to Say "No"? We had been playing Rubber Twist already for quite a while on the black, paved yard in the middle of our western Munich condominium complex. Cathy, Barbara, Monica, and I were all just entering our teens. Parents who worked as doctors, lawyers, and business people filled our complex; they were mostly out doing their weekend shopping. A lot of kids in our neighborhood were about the same age as us. Most of the other boys were off playing a morning game of soccer on this first Saturday of our two weeks fall vacation -- some others had already headed off for their holidays. Those girls not playing with us had dance lessons, or something like that. It wasn't really unusual for me to be playing with the girls, even playing something as ultra-girlish as Rubber Twist. It made sense, because I didn't like soccer too much, and the three girls didn't care all that much for dancing. Cathy had brought out the familiar yellow and red tin. The drawing on the cover seemed a little immature, but all that was quickly forgotten as we jumped and skipped in our efforts to out do the rubber band. We went one or two at a time, while the others stretched the band at their knees, hips, or waists. My slim build offered no advantage over the other three despite the fact that I was quite good controlling my movements. I felt no shame in the girlish way I looked as I played; as I knew I had to move my body like a girl to win. I didn't care, nor did the others, until Cathy looked at me with a funny look in her eyes. "Hey, Martin, do you know what it is that makes you different from us girls?" I gasped a little, but answered right away, although slightly quieter than she had spoken. "Yeah, we had that in sexual education.... It's between my legs!" "No, I don't mean your boy parts. I meant -- what is it when I see you jumping together with Barbara that makes you different from her. You both move exactly the same way, and are almost the same size and weight." The other girls listened intently and appeared, like me, to have no clue where Cathy's remarks would take us. "Okay, what is it then?" Barbara asked moving closer to us. "Yes, what makes him different?" Monica also took a step toward where Cathy and I stood next to one another. Cathy grinned. "Your short hair, silly!" Her hand ruffled my hair as she grinned. "With longer hair you would be just like us. Everybody would think of us as four girls playing." "No way," I replied feeling my cheeks burn. "Everybody knows I'm a boy!" Cathy pointed her finger at me as if to make a point. "Yes, because they know you... and because of your short hair... Otherwise...." I spread my feet a bit -- taking a bit of the fighter's stance my father had tried unsuccessfully to teach me. "C'mon that's bullshit; no one would take me for a girl." I looked to Monica and Barbara to back me up, but they both stared at their feet. "Wanna bet?" Cathy said, in a way that sounded like possible trouble. "You with your silly ideas all the time." I laughed. We were best friends, despite Cathy sometimes wanting to tell us all what to do. As we backed away from each other she wouldn't let it rest. "By the way, Martin, do you know of many boys who play Rubber Twist?" Her question seemed a little like a taunt. My eyes narrowed. Barbara and Monica had been almost motionless spectators, but then Barbara's face brightened, "There's no need for an argument. We can settle this. My mother has a wig she never uses; it's somewhere in her wardrobe." I swung to look at her with my mouth hanging open. "Perfect," Monica squealed, "let's try the wig on Martin and see if Cathy is right." "Are you all crazy or what?" I shouted. "Are you trying to make me feel bad; or do the three of you just want me to look ridiculous so you can laugh?" "No, honest, we wouldn't!" Barbara cried. She touched my arm with her hand and smiled. "We would never, ever laugh at you. You're our really good friend --- but seeing if Cathy is right sounds like fun. Rubber Twist is boring." I nodded. Rubber Twist had been a lot more fun two summers back when we played it every day for hours. "My parents aren't at home," Barbara added. "Why not give it a try?" Cathy pleaded with me with those doe eyes she used when she wanted to pick the movie we would go to. "Please, Martin, just for fun. Nobody will know; and we won't tell anybody." "Do it," Monica added, "for me." How could I turn down my best friends, who had never made fun of me? ~What the heck; it's only a wig.~ I also felt a bit of curiosity, but of course, I had to resist giving in too easily. ~If I do, what will they think of my manliness?~ After five minutes of resistance from my side and some determined insistence from them, we headed to Barbara's apartment. We went into her all pink room, which had a lot of posters of rock stars on the walls, and some dolls in the corner, which appeared dusty from lack of attention. The girls and I hadn't played with them for months. We waited for Barbara, who said she needed to "rummage through her mother's wardrobe." "Ah, here it is!" we heard her say happily from down the hall. She entered the room with a shoulder-length, auburn wig with a wavy look. "It's cut and styled about like our hair," Barbara said. All three girls' hands went to their locks as they nodded their agreement. My eyes were riveted to the wig. ~Cathy might not be so far off. With that wig on my head I might look like them.~ "Ok, put it on," Cathy said. The boy in me surfaced, fighting to hold back feelings that seemed to want to come out. "How? I have no clue?" Cathy took the wig and a brush from Barbara's nightstand, and then worked a bit on the reddish hair to make it look really good. "Now you bend your head down. Yes, like that!" She positioned the wig upside-down in front of my eyes, and then slid it backwards on my head. I raised my head again -- seeing only a curtain of hair. Cathy used the brush until finally I could see again, except my one eye was still covered partly by some strands. I immediately felt - different - softer. "Wow," all three girls said together. "Cathy was right," Monica exclaimed. "Here -- see for yourself." They dragged me to a full-length mirror. Our reflection showed four girls in sneakers, jeans, sweaters, and long hair. I knew three of the four girls, so I could figure out which one I was. My male ego took a heavy blow; Cathy had been right. There wasn't much difference between the four of us. "Now do you believe me?" Cathy asked, but in a kind, almost timid way. I bit my lip, but managed to answer. "It's tough to admit, but yes -- you were right." My voice sounded different, half way between a whisper and talking, but a little higher pitched than normal. Barbara tried to cover over what felt like mutual embarrassment. "We might all look so much alike because we're all dressed like tomboys." "No way," Monica said quickly. "We all look like real girls no matter what clothes we have on." "No," Barbara insisted. "If we pull our hair back, we could also be confused with boys...without all the earrings, bracelets, and necklaces - - that is." I sat on the bed wondering about the soft curls tickling my neck, as they quickly removed all their jewelry and brushed their hair back. All three of them had started to develop breasts, but none of them had gotten huge yet like Doris in English class. My friends could possibly be taken for slimly-built boys like me - despite that I looked at that moment the most girlish of us four, since I had left the wig in place. I wasn't at all eager to take it off, now that our experiment was over. "Houston, we have a problem," Cathy's pouted. "How can we prove that Barbara is wrong about us being confused for boys?" Barbara, moving a bit theatrically, went to her wardrobe and opened it. "Ta-da! Girly stuff for girly girls!" Barbara had told us that her father was a successful businessman and made a lot of money, but he had to travel a lot. In order to make up for not being home more often he tended to spoil his only child. Barbara could have almost anything she wanted, as evidenced by the amount of clothing she had. "Ok, nothing but pink is the order of the day! Let's see who's the sweetest girl!" Cathy commanded. My three pals proceeded to raid the wardrobe, as I stood aside and felt very much in the wrong place. My anxiety reached panic level when they stripped down to their underwear in order to try on pink skirts, blouses, and pullovers. "Ahem," I said, clearing my throat. Barbara turned toward me. "What are you waiting for?" "I think I better go now," I replied meekly. "No way," Cathy said. "This party is for you. We have to really, really convince you that you can blend in with us girls!" For emphasis she shoved a pile of soft pink clothes into my hands. "Here -- get dressed!" "But," I moaned. "I can't do that. I think I should go home now." All three moved toward me as one. "Please, don't spoil our party!" Barbara said, begging. Monica took my hand. "Playing dress-up is so much fun; and what difference would it make to anyone if you wore some of Barbara's clothing for a few minutes to match your nice wig?" My free hand flew to my hair, feeling its bounciness. ~If I'm not having fun, why haven't I taken it off?~ Cathy stood before me with her fist on her hips. "Are you such a macho man that you think you'll lose something by playing along? Normally you enjoy our games. What's so different about this? Are you afraid?" "But, but...." "No 'buts,' " Barbara said, "just enjoy it like we do. Maybe you won't want to change back." Monica giggled. She had the kind of giggle I wished I could have; the kind that makes everyone think everything is okay. "Pants off," Cathy commanded, giving me a gentle shove back onto the bed, and then she helped me by yanking at the bottom of my trousers until they came off. "Ok, ok, I'll dress myself!" I said standing up, hoping to keep a small amount of my dignity. I thought about grabbing my pants and running away, but I knew I would be disappointing my best friends. If I was such a spoilsport, they might not want to play with me anymore. I gave in. ~I'll just go along. The faster I change clothes, the quicker it will be over.~ Barbara studied me. "It won't work with those boxer shorts of yours. Here, use these." She added pink panties to the top of "my" pile. ~What have I gotten into? At least the panties are plain cotton and don't have any ruffles.~ I dizzily turned around, took off my boxers, and then slid the panties on. They felt amazing and not too strange. The girls were almost finished changing while I still stood there in my socks, pink panties, and boys' sweater. They had stripped down to their panties and bras, but it seemed natural for me to be with them. After more encouragement from the girls, I took of my socks and sweater. "My" pile included a pink bra, a pink, short puffy-sleeved, mohair sweater and a pink-pleated, short, woolen skirt. Actually, my outfit was quite similar to what the girls had put on. ~What the heck. Let's get it over with!~ The bra was a bit of a challenge, but with Barbara's help we quickly had it perfectly placed. She added some jelly inserts, so I seemed to have some small breasts. The sweater, and then the skirt, followed. Finally, Cathy fastened a necklace made of large pink marbles around my neck. "Try these two-inch heels," Barbara said. "Your feet are about a half size smaller than mine, but they'll work because I usually wear them with peds. Once I stood in "my" shoes, Cathy handed me a pink, leather purse. "Wow, you are one hot chick!" Cathy allowed. Monica and Barbara both clowned around with some wolf whistles, and then they dragged me in front of the mirror I saw four very girly girls in all-pink attire. Cathy got in my face once again. "Now, little girl, are you finally convinced?" I stared in the mirror. ~I really look like the other girls. No one would mistake me for a boy.~ I opened my mouth to admit Cathy had been right when the door to Barbara's room flew open. Her mother entered the room. Absorbed in our play we obviously hadn't heard Barbara's parents return from their Saturday's shopping tour. Her mother smiled. "Hey girls." Her face turned stern as she looked at Barbara. "Barbara, I told you this morning you had to play outside all day, because I need to wax the upper floor before going on vacation!" "Yes, Mom," Barbara explained, "we did play Rubber Twist outside, but then we got bored and decided to play dress-up for a while." "I can see that!" Her mother giggled like a girl. "You all really look sweet. Obviously, you're having a pink day today! I like it much better than all the tomboy stuff you normally wear. Now, I know I have a daughter with three pretty girlfriends." She smiled at all of us, her eyes resting on my face longer than all the rest. "You're all getting old enough to wear a bit more make-up." Her hand touched my face. "I'd love to do makeovers for all of you, especially someone as lovely as you." I stifled a gasp. "Wait here a moment." She grinned as she raced from the room. When she returned she sprayed the air over each of us with perfume. "There now, you all will smell as pretty as you look for the rest of the day and maybe some of tomorrow. That's French perfume, so its scent will last on you." My knees buckled slightly. "But, I'm in a hurry," she continued. "No more time for idle hands. Girls, please go out in the yard to play. In an hour Barbara's father will come home from work and take you all to the zoo -- if you're all still that bored." The girls cheered and ran out of the door leaving me to face reality. ~What should I do?~ I stood there like frozen statue while Barbara's mother looked me over. "Now -- my little dreaming princess, do you need a formal invitation to go outside?" Before she could ask another question I dashed past her out of the room. They had already started playing Rubber Twist as if nothing was wrong. I stood outside in Barbara's clothes for everybody to watch and see. I almost collapsed, having become trapped in a totally crazy situation without any hope for an easy escape. The girls saw my tears rolling down my cheeks and crowded around to console me. Cathy spoke first. "Martin, we never intended to put you in this kind of trouble. We're really sorry!" "Yes, I know," I sobbed, "but it was your silly idea; and now I have to live with the result." "We won't let you down," Monica promised. "We'll help you to turn back to normal as soon as possible." "And how will you do that?" I asked. "Before we leave for the zoo, I'll sneak into the house and pretend to go to the bathroom," Barbara said, clearly making it up as she went along. "Then I will get your stuff and you can change back behind the bushes there in the corner." It sounded so simple. ~Could it really be that easy to escape from my trap?~ Cathy laughed and clapped her hands together. "The best thing is to act natural, like nothing's wrong. Let's go play Rubber Twist. The hour will be over faster by doing something and forgetting your problem." I reluctantly went back to the game, but it wasn't really possible to forget my little "problem" since the skirt, heels, and bumping necklace were too much of an obvious distraction. Nevertheless, time went by and I was surprisingly good even with the heels -- actually better than the girls. They were appearing to have a bit more problem with their skirts and heels, which they obviously regarded as a challenge. "Do you exercise from time-to-time wearing heels?" Monica asked, a bit frustrated. "It's not fair you're winning; we're the girls!" I laughed and tossed my head. "I thought only my hair made the difference. Now you say I'm different in some other strange way." We all laughed. I would be done with my mess in minutes and could already feel relief. "But you have to confess I was right," Cathy said. "Not even Barbara's mom recognized you." "Yes, you were right!" I admitted. "Satisfied?" "C'mon, it is not that bad," Monica said. "Watching you skipping during our game in those heels -- I have to believe you enjoy it. You could be a terrific girl, if you wanted to be. You do it really well; and when you're done jumping and skipping you straighten your skirt with your hands. Not even Barbara or Cathy do that." I haven't been aware of the fact that I had been moving like a girl. ~Am I turning slowly into what I look like?~ Suddenly somebody came out on the balcony of my apartment. ~My mother!~ I had just sufficient time to leap behind a bush. I could see her, but it would be difficult for her to get a good look at me. "Girls," she asked, "have you seen Martin? I thought he was playing with you." Her voice sounded strangely sad - perhaps she and Dad had another of their fights. "He went to the river ten minutes ago," Cathy answered. "That boy. Too bad. Could you please tell him - when he comes back - that he should remember the train at three. We have to go to the airport; and I don't want to miss the plane and our vacation. Tell him I have to go out on an errand; and I will meet him at the station at three if he doesn't get home before two." "Sure Mrs. Berger, we'll tell him," Monica said sweetly. Mom re-entered the apartment apparently without noticing me. "Martin, you have almost four more hours to play at being a girl," Monica laughed merrily. If I had a best friend amongst the three it would be Monica. She could almost always read my mind. I smiled at the thought of more time as a girl. "No, as soon as Barbara gets my stuff I'll be back to normal." "Do you mean girls aren't normal?" Cathy demanded defiantly. "It's not normal for me," I said quickly, sniffing the sweet smell of Barbara's mother's perfume that hung in my long curly hair. "That's all I meant." "Okay, I'll go get your clothes," Barbara said looking at her watch. "The hour's already over." She went to her apartment, while I waited in anticipation for almost five minutes. Finally, she was back, but without anything in her hands. "What is it? Where is my stuff?" I almost cried. Even though I loved the feel of my pink clothes, I didn't like the idea of not having the choice to change back into my boy clothes. "Martin, I'm very, very sorry, but Mother cleaned up the whole floor and put all our clothes into the laundry. She probably thought that was all my stuff waiting to be washed." "What the hell?" I said angrily. "Then get me some of your jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts, something that I can wear home to change." If I could get by Mom and Tom, my older brother, I could quickly go to my room and change into some of my clothes. "Oh, I didn't think of that, good idea." Barbara turned to go in -- just as her father came out. "Ready for the zoo, girls? Let's go!" "Dad, just a moment," Barbara said, using that voice girls use only around their dads. "I have to go to my room." "Why? You were in there a moment ago." He grinned. "You and your mom -- always wanting one last look in the mirror. Believe me, you and your friends are all gorgeous." He winked at all of us. "We have to go now or we'll miss the train into town. Now, let's move!" His tone became more insistent after he glanced at his watch. He herded us to the complex's bike racks; and I didn't see any chance to slip away. ~And if I do get away, where will I go dressed like I am? I can't go home.~ "Take my sister's bike," Monica whispered. The ride to the train station only took ten minutes, but it turned out to be quite an experience. The breeze lifted my short skirt so I had to hold it down with one hand so as not to reveal my pink panties to everybody on the street. The shop windows offered a reflection that showed no trace of Martin. After we arrived at the train station I suddenly shivered from the cold. "I'm freezing!" I whispered to Barbara. "No wonder, you should have taken the tights and jacket I gave you." "But there was no time when your mother entered the room." I blushed at the girlish whine in my voice, which seemed strangely appropriate given my outfit. "We'll see, what we can do in town," Barbara promised. "You have cute goosebumps." She laughed. We boarded the train and twenty uneventful minutes later, in which I quickly learned how to sit decently, we reached town. When we got off at the station, it was even colder than before and the weather had turned worse. "Daddy," said Barbara in her sweetest voice, "the zoo might not be the best idea. It'll start to rain in no time and then it's no fun there. By the way, Martin...er...Martina isn't properly dressed for this cold. He...er...she forgot to put on tights and to take a jacket." "What's your plan?" her father asked with an arched eyebrow. He seemed to already anticipate her answer. Barbara sighed. "Oh Daddy...I guess... a shopping spree is exactly the right thing to do when it's so cold." Cathy and Monica cheered and applauded. I stood silently by trying to silence my chattering teeth. Because Mr. Brown wasn't home much, I had little fear he would recognize me as Martin, but I felt anxious about him finding out about me not being a girl. I didn't protest when Barbara called me "Martina" and "she". Dressed as I was "Martin" and "he" would have sounded odd. "Let's go to the mall at the Main Square; they have the coolest stores!" Cathy ordered, taking her normal role as leader. As we moved quickly down the street I noticed that Mr. Brown obviously enjoyed the company and liveliness of four young ladies. He told jokes and seemed to take pleasure in each admiring glance from those who saw us. I felt proud to think I fit in with my beautiful friends. Proud - and scared by all the consequences of how I felt. "Martina, first we need tights for you. Let's go to the lingerie store," Barbara said. ~Lingerie?~ That single word promised both delight and horrible fear. I wanted to - but I knew I shouldn't. ~I'm wearing a bra, why should a lingerie store frighten me?~ My friends had no problem finding tights to match my outfit, but they wouldn't let me buy the first ones they came across. They inspected everything in the store and made a small pile of five for me to choose from. "Martina," Cathy asked, "Which ones do you like the most?" I stared at them, not knowing what to say. "She's a bit shy," Barbara explained to her Dad. "Don't worry about the price," he said. "Get the best and nicest, regardless of the price. It's my treat for such a lovely girl. When did you move into the complex? I'm sure I would have noticed such a pretty little thing like you before, so it couldn't have been long ago." "Martina and I just became really good friends, Daddy," Barbara said half hugging me and placing a small kiss on my cheek. I blushed. In a way I suppose what she had said wasn't a lie. "I'll bet you like these the best," Monica said, touching light pink tights that admittedly had caught my eye because of the intricate pattern of hearts and flowers woven into the silky fabric. I had wanted to choose them, but thought they were too girlish, even given how I was dressed. I nodded and everyone agreed immediately that they were the perfect tights for what I was wearing. Monica came with me into the changing room to help me. They didn't feel all too bad; and at least I started to thaw. Wearing tights felt quite nice -- comforting. "Next we need a jacket for Martina." Cathy said after we returned. She pointed toward another part of the huge store. On our way, we passed, or "tried to" pass, the jewelry department, but the girls were drawn to all the glitter and colorful stuff on display. "Those earrings are just right," Cathy said staring at huge golden hoops. "Or these!" Monica held up long dangling silver earrings for us to inspect. "These are exactly the same large marbles as my...erm...Martina's necklace." Barbara directed us to look at quite large, long earrings with the same pink marbles as "my" jewelry. "Oh, they're darling," Barbara gushed. "I must have them." "But, if they're the same as Martina's necklace, she should get them," her father said. "We have to be fair." "But... but, I don't have pierced ears," I said meekly, trying to avoid being once again the center of attention. Barbara stood behind her father and winked broadly at me. She pulled me aside and whispered so that only I could hear. "You won't have any use for earrings after today; and you can give them to me. Let Daddy buy them for you, please." I couldn't see the harm. I would carry them in their box and when we got back home I would give them to Barbara. "Okay.... Mr. Brown, if you really want to make a gift of them to me, I accept." He chuckled. "It would be my pleasure, little flower." The woman behind the counter smiled broadly. "Step up onto the chair young lady; and we'll go about the business of piercing your ears." "What?" Somehow I stopped myself from screaming, but my voice clearly expressed the terror I felt. "I don't want my ears pierced." "You're a chicken," Barbara said, nudging me. "You're just afraid of a little pain; and Cathy's the same. She's admiring these gorgeous hoop earrings, but can't find the nerve to have her ears pierced." Cathy sighed. "Almost every day I say 'today's the day,' but I'm always too afraid when I'm finally in the store. But those earrings would really be worth it." "Okay, girls," Mr. Brown said. "Obviously you two need some support. Sometimes it's easier to do things on the buddy plan. Get your ears pierced together; shared pain is only half the pain. I'll buy both pair of earrings for you two." Cathy eyes indicated she had been tempted by his offer, while my heart pounded. ~How can I get out of this? If I can't, how will I ever explain my pierced ears to my parents? One pierced ear I probably can get away with -- somehow. They would be mad me for not asking for approval beforehand. But two pierced ears... no way!~ "I, erm...I'd rather not," I said very quietly. Mr. Brown gave me half hug. "Don't be so shy. Cathy and you are old enough so that people expect you to have pierced ears. Monica will hold your hand while the lady does it, won't you Monica." Monica nodded. "You should do it, Martina. I know you want to." I stared at her. She could read my mind. Deep down the idea of wearing those earrings had become quite appealing. "Daddy," Barbara said in her daughter's voice, "perhaps you can convince them to have their ears pierced if you offer full makeovers for the four of us afterwards -- over there. She pointed to another place in the store. I couldn't believe how far she would push her Dad...and me, to get what she wanted. Her father chuckled; and he agreed to her method of bribing. Three girls and two adults -- the saleslady wanted to sell something - teamed-up to convince me. The saleslady even pointed out that the earrings were a new product. "You won't even have to wear studs for a while. You can immediately wear these earrings." ~That really helps!~ I couldn't find an argument that wasn't the one thing I couldn't say without looking like a complete fool. I sat on the chair and waited for my fate. The physical pain seemed mild compared to the enormous blow to my male ego. I stood in a daze with my earrings dangling as Cathy proudly sported her new large hoops. Barbara, Monica, Mr. Brown, the saleslady and some bystander who had enjoyed the show showered us both with compliments. With almost no rest to consider how quickly things were happening, we scurried off to the makeover section of the store. All the fight had left me; my male spirit had been broken. I didn't even listen to the lady's explanation when she told me what she recommended. I just nodded my head to everything...each shake creating another jingle from my earrings. ~At least, makeup can be cleaned away.~ In a trance I recognized all the things she did to my face, but it didn't sink in. She plucked my eyebrows, covered my face in a variety of paints and powders, extended my fingernails slightly and then painted them and my toenails in the same pink as my skirt. They finished working on all of us at about the same time. Each of my three friends looked gorgeous and at least two years older. When I saw myself in the full-length mirror where we all gathered, I could see the same was true for me. I looked like a really hot, young lady, who I would never have dared approach. She looked too far out of reach for a thirteen-year old, slim boy. I felt something stirring in my panties, as I fell in love with my mirror image. Cathy recognized my excitement and dragged me into a changing room together with some jackets to try on. "You have to tuck your thing between your legs," she giggled. "It doesn't look ladylike." I shook my head to clear my thoughts and arranged myself as she had suggested. "Sorry." "No problem," Cathy said hugging me, and kissing my cheek as Barbara had. "It's all a little confusing, even for me." Mr. Brown insisted on buying for me a pink, hooded jacket with imitation fur at the sleeves. Shopping for it definitely took much longer than it normally did for me to buy clothes. We all then agreed to Mr. Brown's suggestion to have something to eat, since we had grown quite hungry. We sat in the courtyard of the mall eating our meals when four popular boys from our school spotted us and came over. My wish for the earth to swallow me went unanswered. "Hey girls," one of them said. "All dolled up for a party? Actually there's one this evening at Greg's place. Wanna come?" The girls were all fire and flame, but Mr. Brown raised an eyebrow. "Dad," Barbara pouted, unable to fully use her little girl voice in front of the boys, "It's only a party and everyone else will be there." A large boy standing about fifty feet away yelled about the movie starting and the four boys moved on after quick goodbyes, leaving me much relieved. The girls continued to chat about Greg's party and how much they longed to be allowed to go. Suddenly Mr. Brown touched my arm. "Why aren't you all excited about going to the party?" I had been staring at myself in a shop window, wondering if I would ever get to know "her." "Oh no, I can't. I'm flying to Italy with my mother for vacation. Oh -- holy shit!" I shouted. "Excuse me Mr. Brown. What's the time?" "Twenty past two," Mr. Brown replied. "Our train is leaving at three from our home station. I have to go! My mom will kill me if I'm late." "I come with you," Cathy offered, and the two of us dashed off to the town's main station. We just caught the connecting train. During the twenty minutes ride I had time to think about everything that had happened during the day and to anticipate what was in front of me. "Cathy, I have no time to change. My mother will see me like this. I'm dead, I'm dead!" Even though my mind raced I couldn't come up with answers that would explain everything to Mom. "It's no problem, Martina. I'll tell her that it was all my idea," Cathy said flatly, "and that the three of us forced you to look exactly like one of us." I bit my lip. "You called me 'Martina'!" "The guy in the next compartment is already eating you with his eyes. I think it's best to call you by a name that matches how you look." I nodded. "I have no luggage, no train ticket to the airport, no passport... no nothing. Mom has made such a big thing about the two of us spending two weeks of vacation together. Tom and Dad are staying home; and now I'll disappoint her." Tears started to form in my eyes; and I heard myself softly moan. "Shhhh, it'll be good," Cathy said softly holding me. "We'll find a way. Nothing has really changed. You're the same person you were when you got up this morning." ~Am I?~ The train stopped and we had to get out. Mom stood by herself a short distance away looking quite angry. Everything seemed to be on a path toward an explosion. She saw Cathy and asked if she knew where I was. I stood there like a salt column while Cathy answered. "Yes, he's here in time". Cathy stared at me. "Oh my!" Mom stared at me with her mouth forming a circle. "Mom, I'm sorry!" "I can explain everything!" Cathy offered. "Oh God, first your father hits me with those separation papers, and then you show up playing God knows what...." She turned to Cathy. "Don't worry, Cathy. I'll work things out. I don't think we have time for your explanation; the train is leaving in a few minutes. Martin do you have the train ticket I gave you this morning?" A man walked by and seemed to stumble when Mom called me Martin. I hung my head. "No, it's still at home, I'm so sorry!" "Let's hurry to get a new one. We can't go home. I need time to think and your father would never understand how you look. We have no choice but to go on our vacation until everything gets sorted out." With that she dragged me to the counter, leaving Cathy behind to tend to the bike I had borrowed. My head spun, which was what it had been doing all day. Mom stopped abruptly in front of the ticket counter. "Sir, I need a ticket to the airport for my...arm...daughter." "Do you have one for yourself?" the clerk asked. "Yes." "Okay, a daughter's ticket will cost you ten instead of the forty for an ordinary ticket." "But we have to board the three o'clock train," my mother wailed. "No, problem. Young lady -- please look into this camera. Yes, very nice. What's your name?" "Berger" "First name? "Martin--a." "Martina," my mother echoed. "She's named after her grandfather, Martin." After Mom gave him my height and weight, we headed for the train with me stuffing a photo ticket into Barbara's purse, which was empty other than for a lipstick tube, a compact, and a small perfume bottle. The purse and cosmetics seemed appropriate, because the ticket identified me as "Martina" Berger - a female. We just got on board as the train started to move. After searching for a bit we found two opposite seats. All the other seats were occupied and in the seats at the window sat a woman with her son, who seemed to be a year or two older than me. Even though we sat amongst strangers, it wasn't an ideal place for the conversation my mother obviously wanted to have with me. To my great relief she just as obviously didn't want to expose me. She simply gawked, asking a hundred questions with her eyes. Every once in a while she reached to touch my wig or my outfit, as if to assure herself she wasn't hallucinating. Several times she smiled - lightly and sort of chuckled to herself at a private joke. I silently said again and again, "I can explain. I can explain." But - I knew I couldn't. I couldn't even explain how I felt to myself. The eyes of the woman and her son also demanded answers, making me feel very uneasy. I knew why my mother was staring, but I had no idea why those strangers did the same. Had they guessed my secret? "My goodness," the woman said. "Your daughter's exceptionally striking. She looks very much like you." Mom smiled awkwardly. "And such nice clothing with matching color," the woman continued. "Not like all these other young people with their baggy jeans; be they boys or girls." My mother thanked her for the unsolicited compliment, but didn't engage her in further conversation, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. ~What had Mom said about a separation from Dad? What was that all about?~ The woman's son made no effort to hide the intent of his stare. He obviously was mentally undressing me, while unconsciously licking his lips. What a day...! The woman again tried to start a conversation with Mom, who was non- committal, which didn't seem to bother the other woman, who talked all the way to the airport, which was also their destination. In the meantime the boy slithered closer to me until his legs touched mine. I inched away slowly, as far as possible. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked innocently. His voice had already changed; and when he spoke it rumbled in his chest. "No!" I replied without thinking and immediately knew I had said the wrong thing. "Where do you live? What's your phone number? What's your name? My name is Julius...named after Caesar." He had inherited his mother's talkative gene and also didn't seem to mind that I wasn't answering. "Oh, aren't they a cute pair," the woman enthused to Mom. "And how well they're coming along -- knowing each other for only a few minutes!" Mom choked and then sputtered, causing the woman to run for a cup of water. The boy took advantage of the confusion to slowly rub against my right leg. I had no idea what to do and just hoped it to be over soon. "It's our first time flying," The woman admitted. "I'm a psychiatrist, but traveling hasn't fit into my life for years, I know nothing about check-ins and gates." My mother explained the whole process very slowly and exactly, but the woman, Mrs. Hunt, pleaded for our help at the airport. Much to my surprise, my usually compassionate mother coldly replied that we also had to catch our plane and had no time to show them around. She recommended working with the ground staff. Mrs. Hunt nodded. "I hope they can help us find flight #472." Mom looked at her with something like shock on her face. "That's our flight. Are you booked through Global Holidays on their Italy junket?" Mrs. Hunt's face nearly burst with happiness. "What incredible luck. We'll have a wonderful two weeks together." ~Luck? More like a disaster.~ With this chatting duo in tow we fought our way through the crowded check-in hall and finally reached the appropriate airline counter. Julius had maintained body contact despite everything I did to keep my distance. Several times he told me how "sexy" my perfume smelled. ~Perfume? My ears? The silkiness of my underwear and the unusual amount of air flowing around my legs won't give me a moment's rest to think how to get out of this.~ "Hello. A company of four?" the woman behind the counter asked when it was our turn, after waiting in line for about twenty minutes. My mother, as I saw from her reaction to the question, would have very much preferred to be alone with me, finally having our conversation. However, as usual, she was very polite and said, "Yes." "Tickets and passports please?" demanded the woman. Four tickets and three passports were laid on the counter. "May I have your passport, Miss?" she asked, nodding toward me. "Erm...I forgot it at home. I'm sorry!" "I'm sorry, but without a passport you can't board the plane!" "Isn't there some way?" My mother pleaded and started a tearful explanation. "...and now he wants a divorce and I simply can't face him again until this is all sorted out." ~Divorce?~ The woman behind the counter made sympathetic noises. "Men can be such pigs. And your daughter picked a day like this to be ditzy?" She turned toward me. "Just because you're a living doll doesn't mean you need to act brainless, you know. Lots of beautiful women are quite intelligent." "Being smart isn't all that important," Julius said, trying to be helpful. "Miss," she checked the flight list. "Berger...er...is your first name Martin?" Mrs. Hunt laughed out loud. "See -- your airline is capable of making a mistake, too! Does she look like a Martin? Let's all work together to make this work. Isn't there something you can do?" The woman behind the counter thought for a moment. "Do you have a photo ID or something that proves you're Martina Berger?" I shrugged, knowing how impossible that would be. "No, nothing, sorry," "Yes, you have," Julius threw in. "I saw your photo ticket on the train! It was a very nice picture of you." "Ok, that's sufficient," the ticket woman said, breathing a sigh of obvious relief. "May I have it, please?" I opened Barbara's pink purse and gave the ticket to her. As I handed it I took a glance to see what Julius would think was a "very nice picture." ~I do look pretty in it.~ The counter lady smiled. "After you check in your bags, you'll have to go to the emergency passport office on the second floor to have a preliminary passport made for documentation to get into Italy." We finished checking Mom's bag, and then went to the second floor - the Hunts still right next to us. Mom had taken to holding on to my hand as she had when I had been a small boy. Because the passport office had received a call from the lady at the counter, the process went smoothly. After taking pictures and asking questions and counterchecking them on the computer, I was given a preliminary passport issued to "Miss Martina Berger." The fact that my first name on the flight list and in the computer didn't exactly match the one on the photo ticket and my appearance wasn't brought up again. I obviously looked so convincing the officer was persuaded the airline had a wrong entry. "Be very careful with this passport," the officer cautioned. "Local officials in Italy can cause real trouble when it comes to passport problems. You don't want your vacation ruined over a silly error." I gulped; and Mom's grip on my hand tightened. "She'll keep everything in her purse," Mom promised, "and will carry it with her at all times during our entire vacation." ~Purse? Entire vacation? Had Mom decided to punish me for everything by making me stay dressed as a girl?~ "It's boarding time," my mother said. Her voice communicated her resolve. We were going on our trip --- no matter what. She was my mother and would make the rules. I longed for the moment when I could talk in private - dreading how angry she might get. Each step I took my earrings bounced against my neck, reminding me of the holes I would have to explain - and I had no acceptable answers. "Miss, your boarding card, please!" I had already gotten so used to people addressing me as "Miss" that I gave her my boarding card without hesitation. "That's a lovely skirt," the attendant said to me as we boarded the plane. "It's all she has to wear," Mom moaned. "We inadvertently left her luggage at home." "Oh," Mrs. Hunt beamed. "It's been ages since I helped a young lady shop. This will be interesting and fun, especially since your daughter loves to wear such feminine outfits." Mrs. Hunt went on to talk about all the clothing shops she had read about where we were going. She kept saying how she would help me put together a suitable wardrobe of some of the "sweetest" things imaginable. "Italian fashions are so divine." Mom didn't argue with her. "We'll have to stop before we go to our hotel. She doesn't even have a nightie to wear to bed, tonight." "We'll find her something to give her sweet dreams," Mrs. Hunt promised. Mom laughed. "Martina's father will be surprised when the credit card bills arrive for Martina's new clothes and things, but that's how things go when you disrupt everyone's lives. It will serve him right." For once it was me -- staring at Mom. She had a look on her face of anger... and sorrow... and determination. Julius had arranged it so that he and I were sitting next to each other on one side of the plane, while Mom and Mrs. Hunt sat on the other side of the aisle in four-across seating. Out of sight from his mother and mine, his hand rubbed against my thigh. I didn't dare say anything that might create a scene. I closed my eyes and imagined he was Monica or Cathy or Barbara, trying to soothe my frayed nerves. By tricking myself to think of him as one of my best friends, his hand felt much nicer -- almost sweet. I drifted along on a cloud of wonderful perfume, jingling earrings, and silk undergarments. "Our trip will be interesting, alright," Mom allowed as the plane lifted off the ground. To be continued...