The Sidereus Prophecy Part 4 free porn video

A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR: This story is my thank you to a community that has provided me free fiction for years. It is also my first story (and probably my last), and I will warn you- it is long. My intrepid editor, Robyn Hoode, slaved through the drafts of the story, providing insightful and helpful commentary. His enthusiasm for the subject material kept me motivated. Honestly, without him and his constant feedback, this story wouldn't exist. So, if you enjoy this story, you have him to thank, as much as me. This story is very much a slow-burn, character-driven transformation. As I said, it is lengthy, but I hope you will stay for the entire ride. This is a nine part novel that will be posted on a weekly basis. It is complete. Please feel free to leave a comment or to send feedback to the following e-mail: [email protected] DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Chapter 44 (part 4) I cancelled band that weekend. I couldn't face Ethan after what had happened on Friday afternoon. I felt ashamed that I had essentially broken my marriage vows. I told Am?lie what happened at the Locke Agency, but I simply could not bring myself to tell her anything more. I withdrew both body and mind, moving to my man cave downstairs and neither speaking to Am?lie nor answering any texts or phone calls. I listened to angry music, wrote lyrics, and wallowed. Much like I had done when something didn't go my way as an actual teenager. On Sunday afternoon, I heard my mother's voice at the door. "Darren, we are worried about you. Please come out." My mother was sneaky. She knew my weakness. I could smell the heavenly aroma of her freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. I remember as a kid, licking the beaters clean of all remaining cookie dough. The smell alone lightened my mood, as it brought me back to a time of innocence, Saturday morning cartoons and backyard hockey games, playing outside until it got dark and then slipping into a cozy bed surrounded by stuffed animals. I sighed. I really wasn't handling my firing well at all. I realized how much I was acting like a kid. Adults and mature teens learn to use their support structures to push them through rough patches. Even worse, I realized that I was a textbook case of teen withdrawal. They had taught us in teacher's college about how teens react to crisis situations, especially those with less developed emotional controls. They turn everyone away, exactly as I was doing. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were still red and my hair was dishevelled, not the rat's nest it was before, but certainly getting there if I went days without brushing my hair. I was wearing a pair of pajama pants and one of my old tattered t-shirts. I sniffled and opened the door. "Hi Mom." My mom embraced me tightly and as I hugged her back, she was already crying. Even though I didn't look anything like my mother with her tall slender frame and dark hair, I had certainly inherited her emotions considering the amount of crying I had done since Friday afternoon. She said, "Oh Darren, you really had us worried. Am?lie called us and said you wouldn't come out at all. She didn't know what you were doing and then you wouldn't answer your phone. Please don't worry us like that." I frowned, realizing that my behaviour had frightened my family. I nodded. "I'm really sorry Mom. I didn't mean to make you worry." She smiled, fresh tears lining her face. "I know Darren, but- please come upstairs, your father has some news about a possible cure." My eyes widened, and I shot past my mother like I was in a hundred yard dash. I snaked my hand out to catch the railing as I launched myself up the stairs. My father was already seated at the dining room table. I didn't see Chloe, so I assumed she was napping. Am?lie hugged and then scolded me, "Darren, don't do that again. It was scary. You've never been like that before. You wouldn't answer any of my texts or phone calls. I checked on you last night when you were sleeping just to make sure you weren't dead. I- I was really worried." I frowned deeply, feeling a burning in my face as tears threatened to come, but I managed to hold them at bay, amazingly. "I'm really sorry everyone, I won't do it again. I just- I'm worried about my emancipation. As of tomorrow, I have two weeks to find another job of equal or greater pay. Or go to St. Jo's. I just can't even consider that a possibility right now. " My father interrupted. "You may not need to. You know the woman I spoke to in New Orleans? Well she got back to me. She sent me the instructions for a spell. She claims to be a descendant of the voodoo queen Marie Laveau." Am?lie said, "Marie who?" My father continued. "In the 1830s, a woman, by that name claimed to be able to cure any ailment and remove curses set by those who followed the left-hand path, or the path of the devil. The woman who I spoke to, Mama Khalia, said that she had actually heard of something similar to what happened to Darren. This supposed voodoo queen is said to have actually cured a man who - he read from a page. "... bore the curse of Eve, for misdeeds in which he slayed the unborn, into a shape and bore from a cursed womb a child, which he came to love-" I threw up my hands. "Okay! Just hold on a sec here. I am not getting pregnant just so I can be cured. This is crazy." My father shook his head. "I don't think that's quite what it means. I think that the man's punishment was for killing pregnant women or, at least, causing them to abort. He was forced to become a woman who bore a child, and then see, it continues "...which he came to love and was then stripped of body and child, and returned to Earthly form." My father said, "I don't think that the specifics matter so much as that he was returned to 'Earthly form'. Mama Khalia seemed to think that it was worth a try. This is at least the closest we have come to a historical account of a gender transformation, outside of Greek or Roman mythology." I nodded. "Right, where the gods had sex with women and men in various animal forms. Zeus being the biggest pervert of them all. I agree, let's do the spell." Am?lie said, "Wait a second. Richard, you said that this Marie Laveau, she removed curses set by people who followed the path of the devil. Why would someone who practices black magic help to right a wrong? I've read up a lot on this since Darren's initial change. People who practice black magic always do so for selfish reasons. Why would someone change a man into a woman to teach him a lesson? Something doesn't add up." I shook my head. "I don't care. This is the closest we've gotten so far. I say we try it." My father looked to Am?lie. "I agree with Darren. We should at least investigate this." Am?lie nodded. "I am not saying we shouldn't look into things, but I am concerned that it might be a hoax. How much did Mama Khalia charge you Richard?" My father replied, "That's the thing. Other than a small fee that she charged for the spell's ingredients, she charged me nothing. Initially, I just left my contact information. In her letter to me, she requested money to buy the ingredients, but nothing else. Unlike the charlatans who requested retainers. She really seemed to want to help Darren. I told her how it had affected my son's life and our family. She sounds very sympathetic in her letter." Am?lie said, "So, are you going to pay her airfare or something?" I looked over at my mother who was frowning. I jumped in. "Am?lie, stop it. This could be legitimate. You've seen it happen right before your eyes. You didn't marry a fifteen year old girl, so something had to change me. It wasn't science or weird chemicals, because those would have been gradual most likely. Medical science can't do what happened to me. Why are you having such a hard time believing that a cure could exist? You were the one who said you admired that I was still looking." Am?lie frowned. "Because I've stopped looking, Darren. I just can't do it anymore. It's like what happened to you happened in a different world. One that has different rules than our own." My father replied, "That's just it Am?lie, if you look back in history, magic was far more prevalent, especially before organized religion began. So maybe it is just something long buried. When we visited New Orleans, there were people there who genuinely believe that these voodoo queens or at least their descendants can effect miracles." He continued. "I am not going to pay her airfare because she isn't going to have to come here. The spell can be completed by anyone, but Mama Khalia said that they have to believe it can work. I think that we need to look more into this before considering it, but I believe it is worthwhile. We don't have any other leads." We agreed to complete further research and return in a week, but that left only one more week before my sentence began at St. Jo's. In the meantime, I needed a contingency plan, so during the week, I started calling law firms. I knew my job at the Locke Agency wasn't a fluke. I'd been very successful there, and they'd been immensely pleased with my work until it all fell apart. However, I also knew that it had been touch and go at the beginning when I applied for Chantal's job and managed only a student internship over the summer. That, and the fact that I was very close to being a high school sophomore, made me nervous when I spoke to the receptionists trying to get an interview with the partners at each of the firms I phoned. The nerves tightened my vocal chords so that my voice was even higher than it was normally, almost a squeak. I'd hoped to sound more mature by the end of the summer but that hadn't happened. I sounded even younger than my apparent age - not even like a high school kid but more like a middle schooler who was trying get the receptionists to buy candy to support her seventh grade Jazz band. That didn't help my case, but what made it worse was the breathless tremor caused by my rapidly beating heart. Now I came across as a middle schooler lacking both self-confidence and experience. While the receptionists were polite with me, in most cases, the calls failed to yield the interviews I desired. Some of them even offered me tips, like preparing a script before I called. How mortifying. During the week, Ethan made several attempts to contact me, and when I ignored his texts and his phone calls, he came to the house on Thursday night. I saw him at the door, but I wasn't sure he noticed me peeking through the curtains. I hid downstairs. Thankfully, Am?lie was gone to do groceries and had taken Chloe with her. The doorbell rang a few more times. I could tell that Ethan was frustrated because he rang it multiple times in a row. He had seen me. Still, there was solid wood and glass between him and I, and he wasn't getting through. I wasn't ready to face him yet- maybe not ever. I started to think of my kiss with him as an indiscretion, a moment lost to lust and powerful adolescent hormones. I told myself that it wasn't me who kissed him back, it was Abigail. I heard the door open, and I moved upstairs to help Am?lie, but when I heard Ethan's voice, I rapidly retreated downstairs. Had I forgotten to lock the door? I hid in the closet underneath the stairs, but I could hear the conversation very well. "Thank you, uh- what did you say your name was?" I assumed Ethan was helping Am?lie with the groceries. "Ethan, ma'am. I was hoping to see Abigail. Is she around?" There was a pause, and then I heard Am?lie say. "I'm not sure...how do you know Abigail exactly? And please call me Am?lie." There was another pause as the two conversationalists waded through a mire of confusion. I heard Ethan's voice, sounding surprised with a measure of hurt. "You mean she never talks about me?" Am?lie replied, "Well maybe. Abigail hasn't exactly been talkative with me recently. And to be fair, she never talks to me about any boys." A truer statement was never spoken. I heard relief in Ethan's voice. "Oh okay. Well I'm in her band. At least I thought I was, she hasn't been answering my calls or texts. Things were going well." I had made certain that whenever we had band, Am?lie was out of the house. With the summer months and the gorgeous temperatures, it was easy to suggest she take Chloe to a far off park with a superior play structure or to the beach across town (because ours was too polluted). I hadn't expected Ethan to be so persistent tonight, but now he had met Am?lie and I was terrified at the prospect of him telling her what happened. Am?lie sounded surprised. "You are- in her band? The one with Steven and Andrew?" Ethan replied, "Yeah, for like two weeks now. Last weekend would have been our third jam." Am?lie said, "Well like I said. Abigail doesn't tell me stuff like this." She sounded annoyed. Ethan said, "Well can you tell her something for me?" Am?lie replied, "Sure Ethan, I owe you for helping me with the groceries. Usually Abigail helps me." She said the last words loud enough for me to hear anywhere in the house. I could hear Ethan's footsteps right above me. He said, "Tell her I'm really sorry." He must have clued in that Am?lie thought I was in the house because he said his apology at the same decibel level. "I will tell her when I see her, Ethan." Ethan thanked Am?lie, and then I heard the door close, followed by Am?lie's footsteps. She was headed right for me. Am?lie opened the closet door and stared at me. She looked neither angry nor happy, just confused. I said, "Uh hi, Am?lie. I guess you want to know why there's a kid in my band?" Am?lie said matter-of-factly with a hint of anger. "That is one of the many questions I have for you, Darren." I didn't like being interrogated in a closet, so I quickly went upstairs. I seated myself on the couch in the TV room, and Am?lie sat across from me. The couch sat three comfortably, but the space in between represented very well the growing gap between husband and wife. Am?lie didn't even let me rub her legs any longer, opting to sit apart from me on the couch to remove any possibility of contact between us. I explained, "It's like this, Am?lie. We were having trouble finding anyone. And I met Ethan over lunch hour at work. He's an amazing guitar player, and he really helps the band." Am?lie nodded. "I knew you were having trouble. Laura mentioned it to me, but now I know why you've been so insistent that I be out of the house when you have band. That kid likes you, or he likes Abigail at least." I shrugged my shoulders. "Yeah I know, but it's just a crush. I told him straight out that I just wanted to be friends when I noticed. He's pretty cool though, for a kid. We talk a lot at lunch, or at least we did." Am?lie frowned. "So what did he do to make you so mad at him?" I replied, "Oh, we got into an argument about hockey. You know he likes the Bruins? Anyway, it got pretty heated, and it got personal." Am?lie shook her head with disdain. "You had an argument about hockey, and he felt the need to come over here and apologize? Well there you go, you finally found someone as fanatical as you." There was a hint of mirth in her last words. She added more seriously, "Teenage crushes can be powerful though, Darren. Just be careful. They can make kids like him do crazy things." I shook my head dismissively. "Am?lie, I'm a grown man. I think I can handle myself against a boy. I've told him we are friends and that's that. You aren't weirded out by the fact that there's a kid in the band though?" She shook her head. "I know you are passionate about your music, Darren. And, you are willing to do what it takes to make the band successful. He seems nice enough, and if you let him in then he must be committed. Just watch yourself around him." With Am?lie's words of warning, I wondered if she was noticing that I was paying more attention to the boys when we went out. I did my best to hide it, staring at scantily-clad college girls or even women my own age, but my eyes always diverted back to the boys. It was getting harder to keep my gaze on the soft supple flesh that I once adored. Even Am?lie in her bikini, sunbathing, her soft skin glistening from the tanning oil; her ass actually pooling out in places where the bottoms could not contain the flesh and the slight love handles, it brought a mild tingle, but it was nothing compared to THE kiss. I was beginning to think that having Ethan in the band was detrimental to my sanity, but especially, my sexuality. My kiss with him had awakened not only a longing to see, but a desire to touch, and to be touched. I should have been repulsed, but that sickly feeling, like nausea combined with spiders crawling over my skin, the same sensation I had when I thought that Ethan was cute for a microsecond, it was gone, and I couldn't understand why. It was like someone had crossed the wires in my brain. I wanted to feel tremendous disgust, not only at the gender but the age difference as well, but it was becoming harder and harder. *** "I just don't think he's right for the band guys. I question his commitment. He's more immature than I thought too." It was time to put a line in the sand, and while it may have shown impulsive tendencies, it was clear to me that if Ethan and I spent any more time alone, we would likely be, or rather Abigail would likely be, trying to lick his tonsils clean. The more I thought about Am?lie's words of warning, and the fact that Ethan had come to the house, made me think that perhaps Ethan's crush was slowly getting out of control. It was easy to blame Abigail, as some wanton teenage vixen, but there was a part of me that knew we were one and the same- that I had kissed Ethan back and not some separate entity entirely. I was extremely confused about my sexuality, and I had absolutely no one I could speak to about it. I would rather have cut my ring finger off than tell Am?lie. I could not speak to my family, nor could I discuss it with anyone who knew me only as Abigail. Was I suffering from a form of gender dysphoria? Would I eventually only see girls as friends or even worse - as competition, instead of as objects of desire? Steven shook his head. "What's going on with you Darren? Last week you cancelled band, and you never do that unless you are really sick, and now you are saying you want the kid out? You were the one who brought him in. We wrote some great stuff with him. And now you want to kick him out?" Andrew nodded in agreement. "Ethan has shown nothing but a firm commitment to this band. He's a great player. I've played the new stuff for a guy at work, you know he's in that band Porcelain? Well they want us to open for them. He liked the old stuff, but he says the new tracks are great. This is a fantastic opportunity for us. And this is a downtown show too. We will get mega exposure." I shook my head, and like a diva, the type who asks for only blue M&Ms or a dressing room that is entirely white, I said, "Play the set." Steven counted 1-2-3-4, and we moved into the old songs, although my band mates did so begrudgingly. I had to admit, they felt stale without Ethan's parts, and admittedly empty in places because I could no longer play what was required. After four songs, Steven stopped. "Darren, I don't know what happened between you and Ethan, but it's hurting the band. If he's out, then we are back to being mediocre." I shot back. "Thanks for encouraging me to pick up the guitar again so you could call my playing and song writing mediocre." Andrew entered the fray. "I don't think that's what Steven means, Darren. You clearly can't play the songs the way you used to anymore. And because of that it detracts from not only your guitar playing, but your singing too. What did Ethan do?" I frowned. "Nothing OK? I just want him out." I threw down my guitar, which caused a loud buzzing noise followed by a mass of feedback. "It's him or me." Andrew looked to Steven. The two exchanged worried glances, but Steven was clearly the angrier of the two. Andrew turned off my amp to kill the feedback. "Darren, when you decide to act like a man, instead of a five year old girl throwing a temper tantrum because she didn't get her way, then call me. If not, then I'm going to start looking for another band." Steven's voice softened. "Look, I still want to be your friend man. I know what happened to you can't be easy. But I can't be in a band with someone who thinks they run the whole show." Andrew nodded. "Yeah, you are kind of acting like a diva, Darren." I turned my back to them. "Just get out, both of you." I crossed my arms underneath my chest. "It's him or me." Andrew shook his head sadly, and Steven said nothing, but the way he stomped up the stairs told me everything about his thoughts on the matter. *** I failed to learn anything about Mama Khalia's spell. The Ottawa area, being a mostly boring government town, didn't exactly have a thriving voodoo community. Despite that, I was more than willing to try it. I was so desperate to avoid repeating the tenth grade that I was willing to try nearly anything, except pregnancy, but re-reading the history behind the spell convinced me that the pregnancy was unique to the individual apparently cured by Marie Laveau. My parents arrived, and I was a ball of tightly wound nerves. Am?lie and I discussed her findings, but she had also turned up nothing. My father brought his laptop inside and my mother trailed behind him. I said anxiously. "Did you find anything out? Anything at all?" My father nodded slowly and sat down. "I received another letter from Mama Khalia. I'm afraid it isn't good news Darren." My heart sank, but still, I was willing to try the spell. My father continued. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. Am?lie was right. The translation was very poor. Marie Laveau apparently never cured this man. She said that even the story was false. If you look at the tenets of voodoo, there is nothing that speaks of physical transformations. The so-called curses can afflict a body part, but not change a body." I looked at my father, and then I looked at my mother who had a more difficult time hiding her emotions. My mother hated it when my father lied. I could see her jaw clench. What wasn't I being told? Am?lie was clearly upset. "Why even mention this, Richard? Why would this Mama Khalia bring something up as a possible cure and then snatch it away like that? It makes no sense." I nodded. "I agree. There's something you aren't telling us." My mother frowned and then said gently. "The risk is too great Darren. It's not worth it to try. I'm sorry, but I think you'll have to go to that school." I shook my head. "This isn't anyone's decision but mine. I don't care what the risks are, I am willing to do this. Just tell me what needs to be done. I believe it can work!" My mother took my hand, while my father sighed deeply. "The son I raised might be head strong, but he's not a fool." I said through clenched teeth. "Tell me." My father replied, "The spell has been done. The translation speaks of being returned to 'earthly form', well depending on the one who casts it, the result can differ greatly. The man who was 'cured' by Marie Laveau was actually regressed. I suppose whatever spirits allowed the release of the magic felt that he had not suffered enough, or that he would better serve this world if he was forced to grow up again." My father shook his head. "Voodoo is very much based on a spiritual connection. According to Mama Khalia, if these spirits believe you are unworthy, the tenth grade could be the least of your worries." Am?lie frowned. "You mean Darren would be stuck going to middle school or even elementary school? Would he be a boy at least?"" My father nodded. "He might. But the man cured by Marie Laveau stayed female. So Chloe could even have a little sister, the way I understand it." I shook my head. "So what have I done exactly to deserve this? The man who was transformed in the 1830s was either an early adopter of abortion or a homicidal maniac. Either way, in that time period he would have been very unpopular with the earthly and spiritual world. I am neither of those things. Even if the spell is dangerous, I have a hard time believing that the spirits would decide to punish me further. What could be worse than this?" My father replied while reading from a crumpled letter. "Mama Khalia dug deeper, and she said that Marie Laveau was not the first one to cast the spell. The first historical record of the casting involved an African warlord who had a silver tongue. He was cursed to become a mute and lost his empire because of it. His court advisor, still loyal to the warlord, approached the witch and explained what happened, and the witch provided a spell, the same one given to us. Upon casting it, the warlord's heart stopped. The advisor returned to the witch for vengeance, and as she was impaled by spears she said, "The spirits will tear aside petty humanity, revealing only the light or the dark within. For those cursed by voodoo's hand, let not the caster live in sin, for if so, the caster shall lose more than his lands." I interjected, "Dad, wait a second here. Both of the individuals you mentioned weren't exactly candidates for the Nobel Peace Prize. I am not a saint by any means, but I am not as bad as them. I have a hard time believing that the spirits would kill me or turn me into a little girl." My mother said, "But do you really want to risk it, Darren? At least this way, you could graduate high school and move right into pre-law. It is a huge gamble. At least you are still you this way. Think about Am?lie too, if you become even younger that will be a huge burden on her. I know you don't want to come live with us, but if you become a little girl, I'm afraid you may not have a choice, honey." The old Darren Lawrence would have balked at such a gamble, but the person who was set to become Abigail Grenier as of September 2 was still considering trying it. My eyes shifted back and forth as they always did when I was deep in thought. Am?lie interrupted my thoughts as she had five months ago. "Considering there isn't one record of this spell actually working in a way that benefited the caster, I don't think you should do it Darren. You've lived five months this way. Being a teen girl isn't the worst thing in the world, and the other casters would definitely agree with you. One being dead and the other a baby." I listened to my family and my wife deciding my future and stayed quiet. In my mind, this was not over, but I wanted them to think it was. *** "Darren, you really should come. I took the day off today so that we could pick up your uniform. You'll need to get it sized and everything. Plus, don't you want to see the school?" I was sitting on the couch in my pyjamas. I gave Am?lie an uninterested look. "You know my size. You can get it. Why would you want me to go anyway? I saw the way you were looking at the principal after the hearing." Am?lie shook her head. "That's not fair, Darren. I know you are upset about the spell, but it's for the best. I know you can't really see what is happening to you, but are you really willing to chance it? Imagine having to go back to the fourth grade. You'd almost be living your entire life over again, and that would change you far more than this has changed you. I don't want to lose you, Darren." She wiped her eyes. "Please let me know that I can trust you to make the right decision. We won't stop looking, but in the meantime, I am legally bound to make you attend St. Jo's." I nodded my head. "You can trust me Am?lie. Don't worry about it." Am?lie nodded and then left. *** When the day arrived for me to attend at St. Jo's, it had come after a tumultuous weekend. During a BBQ on Sunday afternoon, in our very own backyard, and in front of my family and hers, Am?lie refused to allow me to drink any alcohol. She was drinking Corona, and I wanted one too. When I took one from the fridge, removed the cap and added the traditional lime, she snatched it from me, explaining that she did not want me to be hung over for the first day of classes. I noticed that, throughout the summer, Am?lie had become more and more of a nag. I had had a beer in front of her before. During the Canada Day long weekend, I even had three. I was sick the next day, but I planned on only having one. Now, she was concerned with me having one measly beer. I couldn't take it. Instead of my family backing me up, they supported Am?lie. Even my own little sister, the one who had regaled me with tales of puking in her hair and being so intoxicated that she thought drinking rum straight was a fantastic and most elegant idea. Then, of course, there was the story of her being caught by our father while double- fisting two beers and saying she was holding BOTH of them for other people. Despite that, she had the gall to state that I needed to watch myself. This was a family backyard party not a loud, obnoxious club full of men trying to slip something in my drink. I could understand my family feeling protective, and my little sister trying to show me the ropes when it came to drinking alcohol as a girl, but it stunk of duplicity. Am?lie was as bad as my sister, and in some ways worse. I used to have to cut her off. I recall one night, with two dollar shooters and mixed drinks when I had to stop Am?lie from chugging random drinks she found in the club, after I had stopped her from buying more. I relayed all of this back to both Am?lie and my sister, but they used the excuse that I wasn't thinking straight. I needed to be careful around alcohol. This coming from my sister, who did the same thing at fifteen was the height of hypocrisy! *** Am?lie said, "Promise me you'll go? I can trust you to go, right Darren? I'd drive you, but you don't start until nine." I was buttoning the blouse, which like the skirt, was a little snug. I tied the small cravat around my neck, but I never looked at myself in the mirror. I brushed my hair and did the usual style, but I wore no cosmetics. Am?lie frowned at what she saw, but said nothing. I was not putting the same effort into my appearance because honestly, I had no intention of going. As soon as Am?lie left I changed into one of my work suits, a skirt, blouse and pantyhose. Now, I cared about my appearance. I took the bus downtown and literally pounded the pavement, walking from law office to law office. I did this Monday and Tuesday. In the meantime, I received a few texts from Ethan. Something about classes. I ignored them. When I returned home, Am?lie and I would have the same argument after she had received a call that I had missed another day. She threatened me, but I knew that if I could cement a full-time job, I could still be emancipated. Unfortunately, I was not able to attend college because Judge Richter said it did not meet the supervision requirements of my quasi-probation. I knew that I was taking a risk by skipping school, especially when I was court ordered to attend, but I thought my perseverance would eventually pay off. Wednesday morning, Am?lie drove me to school. As she was dropping me off, she said, "Darren, I'm sick of fighting with you about this. The school knows you are court ordered to attend. If you miss a full week, there could be very serious consequences. Don't you care at all? I'm supposed to be your guardian. You aren't making this easy on me. They said if you miss a full week, they will have to 'engage in conversation with Judge Richter.' You really don't want them to do that, do you?" I shook my head and played along. I saw the uniformed students moving two-by-two into the school, like drones. Am?lie had dropped me off very near the bell, likely thinking that if I loitered outside that someone would bring me inside. Possibly the School Resource Officer. I watched Am?lie's SUV disappear and then rapidly made my way to the parking lot. I hid between a pick-up truck and a sedan, quickly taking off my white blouse and putting on a t-shirt I had stashed in my bag. As I moved to stand up to check if the coast was clear, I was spotted by a teacher pulling into a space right in front of me. There was no use running from him, since he had already seen me, so I formulated a plan. As I watched him exit his vehicle, I saw that he was a young man in his mid-twenties. His hair was short and neatly combed. He had a professional bag, much like mine, which was full to the brim with papers, some even sticking out at awkward angles, almost begging the wind for a little gust to free them. He wore a tie, which I thought was odd, considering no one except the principal had worn a tie when I taught. He was tall, and the suit he wore, with the pants too short at the ankle, a state of fashion Am?lie called 'l'eau dans cave', was clearly made for someone with shorter legs and a broader gut. I guessed it was probably his dad's suit. As I caught sight of his face, I felt a little tingle. I had to admit that it was handsome, with a well-defined jaw, neatly shaven and set with light grey eyes. He asked me in French, <<Didn't you hear the bell? >> He had a very crisp way of speaking, enunciating all of his words. I answered in French awkwardly, <<I have an 'appointment" with the dentist. >> I couldn't remember the right word, and then I realized it was rendez-vous chez le dentist. He looked me over, obviously seeing that I was wearing a t-shirt, but that I still had my school skirt on. I could see that he was trying to determine if I was lying to him. I said, <<You can see my pass if you like. >> He said, <<It's not necessary, I believe you. What's your name? >> I said, <<Um. Ghislaine. Ghislaine Beausoleil. >> He said, <<Okay, Mademoiselle Beausoleil. I take it you do not like the uniform? >> He was smiling at me, and clearly trying to make a joke, and the little tingle increased in intensity. I shook my head and then quickly was on my way. I walked four stops away to ensure no one from the school could see me. It was past rush hour, so I had to wait nearly twenty minutes for a bus. Just as it arrived, a police car pulled up behind. Thankfully, as soon as the bus turned onto a main thoroughfare, the police car continued in the opposite direction. I was paranoid at the sight of any police cars. I wasn't sure if they acted like glorified truant officers, dragging kids back to school who were caught playing hooky. I had never skipped a class in high school, and as a teacher, I let the robotic Scantron machine phone the parents. I expected these were the same calls Am?lie was receiving every evening. I recall one kid I taught was court ordered to be there, or he would go back to jail, but I doubted that anything that severe would happen to me. By the time I arrived home, it was already past noon, nevertheless, I got dressed in my interview clothing and returned to the job hunt. Unfortunately, every single time I approached a potential employer and enquired if they were hiring paralegals, I was practically laughed out of the office. Even when I quoted legal jargon and demonstrated a clear understanding of administrative and constitutional law, they treated me like an overzealous kid. I received applications for summer internships, but nothing beyond that. I felt like I was trying to open a massive, iron-wrought door, and I could not even move it an inch. Finally, after waiting until six-thirty, with my phone buzzing constantly with angry texts from Am?lie, the receptionist at Vincent, Smith and Gill said that I could come back tomorrow and Mr. Vincent, a partner in the firm would speak with me. *** Am?lie said, "This is it, Darren. The very last time I am going to let you do this. If this firm doesn't hire you, you go to school on Friday." I nodded, realizing that I had gotten my way. I wore a triumphant half- smile. "Yeah. Definitely, but I feel really good about this firm. They seem really progressive. Like the Locke Agency." Am?lie frowned. "I don't want you to get your hopes up too much though, Darren. These are businesses. Are they really going to hire someone who should be in high school? Think about this logically. You said yourself that Stephanie had no intention of hiring you." I shrugged my shoulders. "Maybe this place will be different. They were the first ones not to laugh in my face or think I was trying to pull some prank on them." Am?lie nodded, but her expression did not exactly look like a vote of confidence in my favour. *** "Mr. Vincent will see you now." The receptionist was the exact opposite of Chantal. She wore a beaming smile, was ecstatic to see I had returned and even offered me an iced tea from the firm's mini-fridge. Her name was Gail. She was middle-aged, and while I didn't like how she called me 'young lady', I was pleased that she spoke to me respectfully. I entered the office and a man in his mid-forties motioned for me to take a seat. His office was what you would expect from a partner in a law firm, posh and opulent, but without the gaudiness of someone with simply too much money. Mr. Vincent had pictures of his family on the wall, alongside his diplomas. He was a family man, and I smiled at the images, although seeing him with a young girl at Disneyland, likely his daughter, caused a pang of sadness. It had been a long time since I had taken any pictures with Chloe. While she called me daddy now, no one else would see me that way. I started, hoping that my enthusiasm and initiative would impress him. "Thank you very much for agreeing to see me, Mr. Vincent." He smiled. "Not at all. I don't mind taking the time to speak to someone who is as interested in the law as you are, Miss Grenier. I have to ask though, did you get permission to miss class today?" I nodded. "Yes, my guardian gave it, when I told her about this interview." The conversation continued, and as always, I gave a very good, confident interview. Something about Mr. Vincent allowed me to relax. The beautiful view from his office, and his easy-going manner reminded me very much of Anthony from the Locke Agency. We talked for twenty five minutes, and Mr. Vincent even declined a phone call from a client to continue our conversation. I could tell he was impressed by my knowledge of the law. He said, "I have very much enjoyed our chat, Miss Grenier. I would be pleased to recommend you for our firm's student internship program, and I would be happy to mentor you. I expect you will go pre-law?" I blinked. "Uh, that wasn't what I had in mind Mr. Vincent. I am here for a job. You see, I am trying to become legally emancipated. I heard that you were hiring a paralegal. I have a lot of experience researching case law and preparing cases to go to trial. I believe that I would be an asset to your firm." I briefly explained to him my goal to become emancipated, hoping that he would again be impressed by my initiative. Mr. Vincent frowned deeply. He looked at a picture of his daughter, we were likely very close in age. "I am sorry, Abigail, but I can't hire you as a paralegal. And from what you have explained, a job as a law clerk simply won't meet the requirements of your emancipation. Paralegals in private firms need to have the education. You have the skills certainly, but I can't hire you because you don't have a diploma." My world crashed around me, if I hadn't mouthed off to the police officer, I would be sitting in a college classroom moving one step closer to getting my paralegal accreditation. "Beyond all that Abigail, I'm sorry to say, but you are too young." He smiled sadly. "Do you understand what the word optics means?" I nodded sadly. He said, "I can't have a high school girl representing our firm. It just doesn't look right to our clients. They would ask too many questions." This was exactly what Stephanie and Anthony had said. I replied snidely, "But that's ageism. It's not fair. I can do the job." He said, "People in this profession expect you to have the credentials to back up your ability. It would be different if you worked retail or in the food industry, but that wouldn't help your emancipation." He explained, "I really think that, unfortunately, you will have a lot of trouble getting hired at any firm as a paralegal, most of them require at least a college degree, but because it is becoming so competitive, some are even asking for at least some university. I would have a hard time convincing the other partners to hire a high school girl in a job where we are requiring individuals to have professional credentials. I am sorry, Abigail. Please don't hesitate to contact me again if you need a reference. You should definitely go pre-law. That will be three to four years. And then law school will be another three years. You should forget paralegal and become a lawyer." He smiled, likely trying to raise my severely dampened spirits. "That's where the action is. And look at it this way, if you come to our firm again in say ten years, and get a job here, it will be quite the story to tell, right?" He was waiting for a laugh probably, but when it didn't come he said gently. "Sorry, Abigail but I really must get back to work. It was a pleasure meeting you." Gail greeted me enthusiastically. "So? Was Mr. Vincent very nice? I think if you come back here in the summer, he would strongly consider you for an internship. As long as you have your high school diploma. That's a prerequisite. You are graduating this year, right honey?" I said nothing and trudged out the door defeated. That night I was in a piss poor mood. Am?lie knew that the interview had not gone well from my demeanour, as I stomped instead of walked around the house. Even Chloe's unfailing cuteness could not pull me from my dark temperament. After Am?lie went to sleep, I entered the band room and pulled the sleeping pills out of my guitar case, where I had hidden them all these months. I had kept my promise to Am?lie that I would stop taking them, but tonight, I knew I wasn't going to sleep if I didn't return to my old crutch. My dreams, after taking five of the pills, were bizarre, stranger than a gender transformation or being attacked by undergarments. I rode a unicorn that spoke in rainbows. I was Abigail in the dream, except I was both a giant and minuscule, tiny within a city of millions, but the only inhabitants were crickets. I was their queen. A massive burly arm pushed me into a funnel that was oddly shaped like a school bus. On the bus, were my childhood friends, and we were off to school, but I was still Abigail, but younger this time. I looked in the window of the bus and saw that I was missing my two front teeth. I wore a ball gown with glass slippers and a tiara. The arm scooped up the school bus and proceeded to shake it. That is when I awoke with Am?lie practically screaming in my ear and shaking me as if she feared for my life. Chapter 45 My dream, while stranger than the previous two, still lacked the feeling that I could act as a participant rather than an observer. It really was a random assembly of words and pictures. The others seemingly had a purpose, but this one was far more like an actual dream. Since my change, I had dreamt many times, usually a few times a week, but it was only more recently that I had actually seen myself as Abigail. I muttered, still groggy from my sleeping pills, "I'm up...quit shaking me, Am?lie." As I faded from a dream state to reality, I noticed two things: one, I could barely move. My limbs felt like my blood had been replaced with liquid metal and solidified, and the other- a debilitating depression. Even if I had been able to coax my limbs to life, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to leave the bed. I had a hard time believing that my sleeping pills could have caused my mindset, but coupled with my thorough failure to secure emancipation, it was a powerful misery inducing cocktail that flowed into my brain. The sleeping pills were actually supposed to reduce anxiety, but that was in adults- for teens, they apparently had the opposite effect in some cases. Lucky me. I turned away from Am?lie to face the window, but she got right back into my face. "It's almost nine, Darren. You are going to be late! Get up!" When I turned back to her, I must have looked beyond defeated, because her mouth gaped, and her pretty features tightened into an angry, yet deeply concerned mask. She took a breath, to calm herself. "I've been trying to wake you up since seven thirty. You took your sleeping pills again, didn't you?" I nodded my head and instead of the rage I expected, Am?lie gently stroked my hair. "I'm sorry. I know how much emancipation meant to you, and how much you don't want to go, but please Darren, you have to." I pulled myself into the foetal position and shook my head. From my vantage point, I could see that Am?lie had laid out my clothes at the foot of the bed. She had ironed the white blouse, which I had thoughtlessly stuffed into my bag when I fled school on Wednesday. The red and black plaid skirt lay underneath it, along with a pair of long white socks. They were optional, but I guess she figured I would want to cover my legs. The cravat and blazer with the emblazoned 'SJ' was hanging in my closet next to my male and female work clothes. Am?lie spoke gently, but with a firmness that I noticed more and more. It was a tone similar to one she used with Chloe when she was misbehaving- firm and in control. "Get up now." I shook my head. Even if I had wanted to rise, my legs would have refused to cooperate in their wooden state. She said, "I really didn't want to have to do this- to threaten you, but they are sending a social worker here next week. Judge Richter believes that I may be an unfit guardian. Darren, they could take you away from me, from Chloe. Please, you have to go today. Even if you go for just one class, please." I could see tears forming in her eyes. I said, "They are probably bluffing, and if not- then whatever. Do you really want me to go in this state?" It was like a parasite has sucked out all of my drive, ambition and confidence. I said, "Do you want to know why I don't want to go? Beyond the fact that I have to do it as a girl, or wear a skirt, or be surrounded by stupid kids all day? It's because I'm changing, and I can't stop it." Am?lie looked at me up and down, taking in my form. She would have seen no physical change. She asked me. "Changing how, Darren?" I sighed deeply and turned my head away from my wife. I couldn't face her as I told her. "I-I'm starting to like boys- and...men in general. I can't help it. I get these images in my head, and they won't go away. I'm worried that if I go, and I'm surrounded by teenage boys all the time, I'll become- a- a real teenage girl." Am?lie said sadly as she gently stroked my hair again. "I know, Darren. I've known since the beginning of summer. The way you go out of your way to talk about how sexy girls are or how great I look in my bikini, but your eyes always return to the boys." She turned my head so that I was facing her. "I would rather have you like that than not at all, though. It's pretty clear that we aren't married anymore. I still love you, but I was never attracted to you like that, and now, you don't see me that way either. I shook my head, tears brimming in my eyes. "No Am?lie, listen- if I stay away from them I can beat this. We just need to get a stay of decision and-" Am?lie put her finger on my lip. "It's too late for that, Darren. There's a social worker coming here next week. If I can't show that I am a suitable guardian for you, Judge Richter said that there is a real possibility you could end up in foster care." I shook my head repeatedly, but depression had sapped my drive. I couldn't even begin to formulate an argument let alone write an entire request for a stay of decision. I buried myself under the covers as a clear indication that I wasn't getting out of bed. Am?lie said firmly, "I'll phone St Jo's and tell them you're sick but this is the last time. You are going on Monday if I have to drag you through the door myself." She stared through me. "Now, where are those pills?" I mumbled in reply. "My guitar case." Am?lie said, "And you don't have any hidden anywhere else?" My voice under the blanket was muffled, yet angry. "No!" Am?lie replied, "OK." I heard Am?lie leave and close the door behind her. With the overdose of sleeping pills, this was not a battle she thought she could win. Even with the threat of the social worker, I couldn't drag myself out of bed. My limbs were starting to wake up, but my brain chained me to the soft confines of the mattress. *** I awoke to the sound of furniture moving downstairs. I rubbed my eyes, ran a quick brush through my hair and moved toward the sound. Am?lie was rearranging my man cave, moving boxes full of sports memorabilia and comic books into the storage area under the stairs. I frowned as I watched her carry out a box of my old hockey trophies, trophies that had previously been on a shelf in the room. "Hey, what are you doing?" Am?lie replied, "Making 'Abigail's' room. It doesn't look like a teenage girl lives in this house at all. The social worker is probably going to want to see your bedroom." I watched silently as Am?lie threw my old video games in a box and took down my Montreal Canadiens flag and jersey. I interrupted, "Hey, you know, Abigail can like hockey. If the social worker interviews my supposed peers, well they will say I like music too. You can keep my Nirvana box set and the ticket stubs. Abigail is a rock chick. She's not going to have ponies or pictures of Justin Bieber or something. " Am?lie nodded. "Fine, okay. Well then, why don't you help me?" I was willing to help, and I was actually feeling a lot better as the sleeping pills, which had seriously increased my anxiety, slowly left my system. I also understood the importance of showing that Am?lie was providing Abigail with a proper bedroom. It needed to look like Abigail actually lived here. Unfortunately, neither Am?lie nor I knew what a teenage girl's bedroom actually looked like. So we did what we always did- checked the Internet. The mismatched drapes were replaced with pink and black leopard print curtains. Once we realized that a beat-up futon would not suffice, we went out and bought a double bed. I was actually pleased to get a new bed because, as Darren, the futon played havoc with my back. Even as Abigail, the mattress sagged and I could feel the metal frame pressing into my back. I called my parents because Am?lie and I lacked the skill to even put a simple bed frame together. I took a beige teddy bear that had actually been mine as a kid and put it on the bed after it was built. My father made building the frame look easy. I usually struggled with anything that required more than a screwdriver. I knew that my parents had already been told about the social worker. They acted like it was necessary to create a room for Abigail with little explanation. Am?lie was still going behind my back. I was surprised that my parents hadn't come into town to drag me to school, but I assumed it was because Am?lie wanted to show that we could function without their help. I guess she was wrong. The remodelling of the man cave continued well into Saturday, with my mother watching Chloe while we worked to turn the room into something inhabited by a normal teenage girl. Am?lie had the great idea of using black cork board to spell out A-B-I-G-A-I-L in large flowery letters on the wall right above my new bed. While I didn't like how feminine it was, it was a nice touch. It gave the room a more lived-in quality, and it was faster than painting. Painting would have been far too obvious because the smell would have been there well into next week. My father installed two guitar mounts, and I hung my old and new guitar on the wall. Am?lie insisted that we also hang a GIRLS ROCK poster with a pink background and a large white star on the other cork board that we hung on the opposite wall, which I felt was trite. Am?lie felt it was empowering, and fit well with a girl who was in a band. The real problem was the fact that we just didn't have enough stuff to fill the room. My father pointed out that a fifteen year old girl would not read "Paris 1919". "Hitler's Willing Executioners". "Teaching students with disabilities". So, all of my books from university were boxed. The music books stayed- 'The History of Grunge', Dave Grohl's book and a number of large photo books from my favourite bands. My sister donated her Harry Potter books. Am?lie said, "I'll add my Twilight books too. There were so many teen girls at those movies, I felt like I was back in high school." I furrowed my thin brows. "Um, okay, there's where I draw the line. Abigail has taste. She would not read something as embarrassing as Twilight. I think the music books are fine, really." Am?lie shrugged her shoulders. "Suit yourself. The room still looks kind of empty." She was right. The closet was empty except for my school uniform. The top of the dresser, which would usually have been covered with hair product, makeup, and perfume was barren. There were no pictures except for the one glow-in the dark peace sign poster hanging on the ceiling directly above my bed and the GIRLS ROCK. Since Abigail was supposed to be a musician, I brought in some stuff from the band room. Music stands, my old two channel USB recorder and a mic stand. To me, this showed that someone was clearly living there. It wasn't enough to actually put stuff in a room, you needed to place items that a person would actually use. Am?lie said, "Well Darren, what do you think?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I think it looks stupid. But then, I am not the target demographic, so, what do I know?" Am?lie smirked. "If that's your response then it's near perfect. The only thing you need is a vanity, which we can bring from our room. I do my makeup in the bathroom anyway." I shook my head. "I don't wear any makeup. And I'm not planning on it." Am?lie replied, "Yes, but there's no mirror in here. Are you telling me a teenage girl doesn't have a mirror in her room? I shrugged again. "Well maybe one who isn't conceited." Am?lie shook her head and then asked my father to bring the vanity down. The last items Am?lie took down were my framed university diplomas, Bachelor of Arts and Education degrees. I knew they didn't belong in Abigail's room, but it was hard to see them put in a box. Their removal represented very well the reality of the situation. The degrees were worthless to a fifteen year old girl, and while the toil to obtain the degrees had provided me with a wealth of skills, I could not reap the benefits, and because of that I would start high school for the second time on Monday. *** My father sighed deeply. "This isn't going to be easy Darren, but we need to discuss your finances. We can cover your mortgage payments, but we should see how you can save some money." He continued. "Your biggest payment is probably your car, right?" I narrowed my eyes, but I realized I didn't have much of an argument. The car payments were the result of a bank loan with another 24 months left to go. I had no choice but to continue paying them. "I can't forfeit on my payments, it would ruin my credit. Also, I'll be able to drive the car in December. I don't agree." I positioned my folded arms underneath my chest. Am?lie said, "I guess it's the same thing for your cell phone. You have a three year contract, right? They'd ruin your credit and send you to collections." I looked to my father. "What if you cover the cost of the rest of the car?" My father said, "We looked at our finances. With our savings, we could cover your half of the mortgage for a while at least. I think you and Am?lie staying in this house is a good thing, especially with the social worker coming. You need to show stability. Am?lie can continue paying her portion. We also think that you should pull Chloe out of daycare. Pamela will watch her during the day. How much will that save?" Am?lie looked at my mother. "Are you really willing to do that? It's a lot to ask, Pam. I don't want to inconvenience you. It would certainly help though. It would save us about eight hundred dollars a month." I couldn't help but think that it was also a way to combat my truancy. I couldn't hide out at home if my mom was home with Chloe. My mother shook her head. "I love Chloe, and if it means helping you out, then I'm happy do it." I said, "I still think I should be able to keep MY car. I've paid it off for three years now." My father said, "Darren, give your head a shake and think about this. You can't even drive the car now, so it's just sitting in your driveway costing you money every month. Maybe you could try and sell it." I hammered home my point. "It's my car, and I want to keep it. Plus, I still have two years of payments." Am?lie said gently, "I think your dad is right, Darren. Besides, you won't even be able to drive it without me or one of your parents sitting next to you, at least for the first year. What use would it be? You already know how to drive. Why not just get your driving experience on my car?" My father added. "Not only that, Darren, but do you have any idea how much the insurance would be for a new driver with two prior traffic offences? We are talking astronomically expensive, and, considering your other needs, a car that sits in your driveway for most of the next two years shouldn't factor into your finances. I think the best thing is for me to pay off the loan, and then for you to sell it. That way I will get my money back, and you can put the rest into a joint account." I shouted, "Hold on a second here! That's still my money." I was starting to get emotional. "This isn't fair at all." Am?lie shook her head. "Darren, it's our money. With your parents help we just might be able to do this. But, we need to cut more." Am?lie started drawing up a proper budget. The discussion continued from there with me having little to no say. I was going to lose my car, a symbol of my independence and a link to adulthood. It was the first car I ever owned outright, except for what was still owed to the bank, but still- it was supposed to be mine. As for the budget, it was decided that we would cut the cable entirely, which meant that my sports and music package was gone. I saw this as entirely unfair because Am?lie mostly watched Netflix, which we kept. Based on the figures, as long as Am?lie kept working and my mother watched Chloe during the day, we could keep our collective heads above water. Am?lie's parents were willing to help us with unforeseen expenses, like unusually high electricity bills, but they could not help us on a monthly basis. My fear that I would become a mere spectator in my life had seemingly come true. My parents and Am?lie had made all the major decisions. I suppose I was less than cooperative, but it was because I felt left out of the whole process. Their lack of respect hurt more than losing the hockey channels I liked and even my car. I feared what might come next. Maybe an allowance? *** The remodeling had kept me busy, and it had kept my depression at bay. However, Sunday night, the reality of my situation weighed on me heavily. It was easy to blame others for my predicament, but that is how a child would react. No, I knew that this sentence was in part my own design. If I hadn't foolishly gone to see Brad alone, I wouldn't have ended up being seen by Dr. Alberts, and Am?lie would likely not have lost faith in my ability to make good decisions. Most importantly, she would have trusted me still. My week of playing hooky had breached that trust even more severely. My treatment of her through this whole ordeal was shameful, and I saw that. She had been put in the unenviable position of trying to be both my wife and my legal guardian, and I had been less than cooperative regarding the latter. If I had simply accepted Officer Patterson's ticket by acting like an adult and admitting my mistake, instead of mouthing off at him, I may never have ended up in Judge Richter's courtroom. As for my emancipation, it may have still failed, but at least I could have gone to community college. Furthermore, my hissy fit at the Locke Agency had robbed me of a reference for an entire summer of work. I had burnt my bridge there with a flamethrower, and I had never done that before. Previously, when I was unhappy in a job, I did the work and received a reference while holding my tongue. I saw how each of my decisions led me to my current path, and I began to seriously question going through with my plan, but considering what I had lost, I felt it was a necessary risk. I took a kitchen knife and gently cut along the underside of each of my arms in a long even motion. It hurt less than I thought, but then I had frozen the area and applied rubbing alcohol prior to cutting to numb the nerves. Blood flowed from the paper thin wound, while I rapidly positioned my arms above the chalk circle I had drawn. I watched the blood drip gently into the circle, and carefully stepped into it, cautious not to wipe away any of the chalk with my socked feet. Obtaining the spell from my parents had been too easy. While my father was handy, I was technologically savvy. My parents, who lived in a more rural area, did not have access to high-speed internet. They had missed their favourite shows while they toured the southern portion of the United States during the summer, so I offered to download and transfer these shows to their computer. The spell, which was in simple .TXT format, had been deleted, but my father never deleted the items from his Recycle Bin, so it was child's play to pluck it from there and print a copy for myself. I couldn't imagine the spirits punishing me for asking to have my life back. If magic worked as Wicca believed it did, my request would re- establish the balance. What vengeful, cruel force would take away someone's husband, someone's father and someone's son? As I conducted the ritual, I willed myself to believe that the spell would restore me to my rightful body. As I chanted the ancient script, uttered by Marie Laveau and the ancient court advisor, I pictured myself back in my body. I saw my firm stomach, short hair, my brown eyes, and my lean body. Even though it was early September, it was still warm- a so-called Indian summer, but the air within the circle was bitterly cold. I reached my hand out of the circle for a moment, and I could feel the warm air, but inside, it was freezing. My teeth chattered, and I had trouble chanting. To me, this meant that it was working. Something was in the circle with me. I could feel the air on my body, almost like ghostly hands running down my legs and arms causing instant goose bumps. Even as I pictured myself back in my body and remained focused on the success of the spell, I began to have second thoughts. What if I became younger, or even worse, died? Would that be fair to Chloe, to have her father, no matter what his form, taken from her permanently? I thought about how my parents would react, my mother losing her only son, first in body and now in soul. I clenched my hands, trying to force the images from my mind, as my heart thumped in my chest, a marching beat at triple time. The chill intensified. I looked down and saw the small blood pool congealing and actually freezing to the floor as it dripped from the long open wounds. I was beginning to feel light headed. The spell said