How I Became The Baddest Girl In Clarksville Chapter 11 Weird Science free porn video

How I Became the Baddest Girl in Clarksville Part 11 Weird Science -Ride to a Funeral in a V-8- I wanted to kill Chrissy Allen. I wanted to kill myself. Hell, I wanted the whole world to die. That's how fucked up I felt after I kissed Austin and then ran inside like a scared little girl. Okay, so technically I was a girl. I was also in over my head with the way everything was playing out. I had no idea how Austin might have interpenetrated the kiss. He had a habit of overreacting, reading more into things than were really there. All I needed was to get to school tomorrow and find a shopping cart filled with cutesy, stuffed animals and heart-shaped balloons (or balloons shaped like lips... eeeewwwwuuuuhhhhh) and a note about how happy he was that our love had finally begun to flourish. Then, I remembered his slumped shoulders and bowed head as he walked to his father's car. He hadn't seen me peeping through the window and I was glad. I hadn't wanted him to see me cry. He wasn't going to lavish me with presents. There wouldn't be any sticky notes pasted to my locker. The most I could hope for would be a nod, the next time I saw him. He might not even do that. "Get over it Alex," said Practical Alex. "You complain when he flirts with you and you complain when he doesn't. Isn't it enough you've wrecked his life. What do you want from him, anyway." "I don't know," I said. "But not this." Since moving to Clarksville, dinner had become a big deal. We ate in the dining room and made table talk. Mostly it centered around Tyler My parents would nod their approval with smiling faces. as he ticked off all the great things he did that day. I contributed a sentence or two but let my brother carry most of the load. This strategy worked great most of the time, but not tonight. Mom wanted to know all about how my afternoon had gone. "Was the new girl nice?" Mom asked. "She must have been, considering you were so late getting home." "Yeah, she was great, Mom," I said. "Where is she and her family from, Princess?" Dad wanted to know. I caught Tyler's grin out of the corner of my eye. He did that every time Dad used the "P" word. "Uh... Chicago," I said blurting out the first place I thought of. "Does her father work at the plant?" Dad continued. "Her parents are divorced," I said. "That's... that's why they moved here. To get away from her...uh... dad. I think he was abusive." "Oh," My parents said almost in unison. I mentally smiled, proud I'd nipped that subject in the bud. "I haven't seen any new girl around school," Tyler said. "That's not my problem," I shot back. "Maybe you should look harder." I wanted to strangle my asshole brother. Why was he trying to undo everything? ? Oh yeah, because he was an asshole, that's why. Hadn't I just said that? "I think she's making the whole thing up," Tyler continued. "Yeah. You got me, Tyler," I said, mockingly " I made up the whole thing so I could miss my bus, hang out alone at Big Burger and then walk all the way home by myself." "That's enough you two," Mom cut in. "It's okay Mom," I said. "Maybe I'll invite her over so Tyler can see she exists." "I think that would be very nice, Alex," said my mother. "You're becoming a very responsible and caring person." I flashed my brother my sweetest smile. I'd dodged another one. How many more I could dodge before my luck ran out. After fumbling through the rest of dinner, I took refuge in my room. Dropping onto my bed, I wondered how things were going with Austin. Was he sitting in his room puzzling over where to go from here, like me? More than likely, he was holed up somewhere, taking refuge from his dad's wrath. I imagined Corbin Myers storming around their living room. I could see him puffing cigarettes and smashing the furniture into rubble before drop- kicking the family dog (who hadn't gotten out of the way fast enough) and then tossing the unconscious animal out into the cold.The vividness of the scene sent tremors through me. "Stop it," I cried. Clamping my hands over my temples I pressed as hard as I could, trying to force the image out of my head. It was all too real. Austin could be in serious trouble. Things could get physical. I'd seen how close Myers had been to going over the edge, in the car. I lurched to my feet. I needed to do something, but what? I could call Mr. Myers and tell him what really happened-- that it was my fault, not Austin's. But would it help or make things worse? I'd seen the frown on his face when he saw Austin and me holding hands. He hadn't been pleased. And what if he told m parents! I could kiss my freedom goodbye. I would never be allowed to go anywhere again without some adult tagging along. If it had happened to Tyler, Mom and Dad would have patted him on the head and told him how brave he must have been. It wasn't so easy for me. First, I would be reminded I was a girl (du-uh) and I could have been raped ( double du-uh.) and if I continued to act in irresponsible ways I'd have to be babysat. I bristled thinking about my parents imagined responses. I could deal with dangerous situations a hell of a lot better than Tyler. I'd done it twice : once with my Uncle Walter and again with Arnold Haas. Being a boy didn't guarantee you'd be tough and being a girl didn't mean you were weak. Unfortunately, in the fantasy world of stereotypes, where my parents chose to dwell, your sex determined everything. Tyler was the man while I'd become Daddy's little girl. The admission caused me to pause. How had I accepted being a girl so quickly? I'd been John for seventeen years, yet in the span of a few months I'd grown comfortable being Alex. Even Tyler remarked on how easily I'd handled the change (it hadn't been that easy). There were still times when I wished I was a boy but mostly I didn't think about it anymore. Even my room looked like a girl's room now. My dad and I had painted a soft shade of lavender over the tan colored walls The window sills and door trim received a coat of white that matched my dresser and bed frame (also repainted). The bed spread with the western scene (my companion since I was twelve) had been replaced with a baby blue comforter. The fact that I liked my room's new look was another measure of how much I had changed. There was a knock on my door, then my mom peeped in. "Alex, you have a phone call," she said. "What!' I said thinking I hadn't heard her correctly. "He said his name is Austin and he's a friend of yours from school." "Oh, Austin...yeah. He's in one of my classes," I lied, thankful she hadn't remembered it was Austin that split up me and Shelly. "He probably wants to know about homework." I wiggled past my mother, wondering why in the hell he hadn't called on my cell? Was he trying to announce what happened this afternoon to the world? "It's the phone in the kitchen," my mother called after me as I bounced off the bottom step of the stairs. Without slowing, I blew past my dad who was watching the after dinner news. I flung kitchen door open and charged inside. The receiver lay on its side on the counter, waiting. I approached it, sensing Austin's presence on the other end. Suddenly, I didn't want to do this. Whatever he wanted couldn't be good. "Hey, what's up," I said into the phone, trying to sound as if this was just another day, where no ones motorcycle was stolen and no one had kissed anyone. Thankfully, Austin seemed not to notice the quiver in my voice. "I tried to call you on your cell phone but all I got was voice mail," he said. "I was afraid you didn't want to talk to me. I tried this number in case you were on the phone with someone--." "Shit!" I cried. "Huh.," Austin said, surprised. "I left my phone at school," I said. "I think I dropped it when you know..." I didn't want to say more, someone like my asshole brother might wander in. "I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe we can look for it tomorrow morning before school." I cringed at the "we". The old Austin was back. "Did you want something?" I asked, willing this call to be over. "I'm sorta where I can't talk right now." "Oh" He said, sounding deflated. "Uh...I called to tell you the police found my bike. You'll never guess where." Austin paused. When I didn't answer, he went on. "At school. Can you believe that. The police found it at school. It was parked in the student parking area." "Is it still there?" I asked. This was crazy. "Yeah, the cops are watching it until my dad and I come to claim it." "What about that kid, the one that took it, Did they arrest him?" "I'm telling you, Alex. The bike was sitting there with no one around. It was like no one took it. Oh... okay (he said to someone in the room). I gotta go. See you tomorrow?" "Yeah. sure," I said. I hung up without saying good-bye. "What did your friend want?" Mom asked, as I trudged past her on the way back to my room. "It was homework, like I thought," I said. "We'll it must have been a really dire assignment," Dad said. "You look like you lost your best friend." "I'm just tired," I said, "I think I'll take my shower and go to bed." "This early?" Dad asked. "It's not even eight o'clock." "Yeah," I said. "I know." -The President's Penis is Missing- I should have been relieved with the way things were turning out. Austin was getting his bike back, so chances were, there would be no police investigation. I could file this away in my things-my-parents- will-never-know-about folder, next to my encounter with Uncle Walter and my run in with Monica Bond. Except, there was one small detail I hadn't considered. That detail was Austin. Since the day Austin showed up at my locker, with those blue gray eyes, and goofy smile, things had been fucked up. He stirred emotions inside me that were uncomfortably close to what I thought girls experienced when they were falling for a boy I wanted no part of that. So even though I told my Dad I was going to bed, there was no way that was going to happen. I was still psyched from all the craziness of the afternoon. I'd be lucky if I got any sleep at all. I looked around for something to occupy myself with for a while. A half dozen fashion magazines lay scattered across my desk, complements of Shelly. I'd never gotten around to tossing them out. I flipped through the first few pages of one, losing interest almost immediately. I wasn't into clothes or makeup, no matter how hard Shelly tried to sell me on that stuff. I sat down at my desk, dropping into my chair with all the enthusiasm of a speeder being handed a ticket. Sweeping the magazines out of the way, I switched on my computer. I hadn't checked the online comic stores in awhile. Though I'd sold most of John's comics, I'd traded a few for books featuring girls as protagonist. These comics were a specialized genre known collectively as "Jungle Girls." I'd discovered the first one, an issue of Tiger Girl, when I was getting John's collection ready for sale. I loved the idea of a strong female character and it wasn't long before I stumbled across other titles such as "Panther Girl" and "Rima, the Jungle Girl." There weren't many "Jungle Girl" titles out there. They had never been that popular, but their rarity was part of what I enjoyed about them. When I scored one, it made the victory all the sweeter. The big online comic stores could be found by key-wording "vintage comics +jungle girl". But those sites were full blown retail and not all of them offered trades. The few that did only wanted to give you a fraction of what your book was worth. I avoided those sites. The smaller dealers were usually fair, but harder to find. Most of these dealers were also collectors, and were willing to trade book for book. I kept a list of their addys, in a spiral notebook, on my desk. Whenever I found a new dealer with reasonable prices, I jotted down their contact information in my notebook. I looked for it now and frowned when I couldn't find it. Thinking I'd mixed it in with Shelly's fashion magazines, I picked through them one at a time, but the notebook wasn't there. Where in the hell had I put it? I opened the top drawer of my desk and rummaged through its contents. No notebook, only my I Pod (I'd wondered where it had disappeared to), my phone charger (for a phone I no longer had) and a half empty bag of Hershey Kisses.. "Damn," I muttered in a fit of exasperation. I slammed the top drawer shut and then yanked open the bottom one. It was twice as deep and where I tossed things I wanted to stash in a hurry. And there it was, in all its purple covered, spiraled wire glory. I lifted it out, my eye catching the corner of a tan envelop when I did. It was sticking out from the back. For a moment I wondered what I was looking at. Then I remembered the box in the shed with Walter's name embossed on the top. The envelope had been inside. I'd hidden it in the drawer. I put the notebook to one side, studying the envelope from the safety of my chair. It seemed innocuous enough, lying in the cradle of my drawer. Just an office mailer, the type people used everyday. Only this one was stamped with the words "FOR EYES ONLY". Had Walter been a spy? That's the kind of thing "FOR EYES ONLY" conjured in my mind. If this really was top secret stuff, I could get in serious trouble for having it in my room. So what were my parents doing with it ? They could have been jailed as easily as me. Unless, they hadn't known it was in the box. Probably, they didn't. My mother was a pack rat. She kept everything she found. Half the stuff she saved was unopened. I leaned back in my chair and thought. The envelope had been part of my Uncle Walter's manuscript on gene sequencing. Had he stamped the warning himself, to keep people from stealing ideas he planned for the book. It was possible. Or, could it hold information he stole from the research firm he'd worked for. Maybe they were the ones that stamped the eyes only warning. But, what if what was inside didn't have anything to do with my uncle's book at all. What if it was filled with photos of a naked John, snapped through a bathroom peephole. What if the FOR EYES ONLY was a sick joke. An attempt at humor perpetuated by a pedophile relative hungry to yank off to pictures of naked, little boys. If that was what was inside, I didn't want to see it. "You don't know that's what's in it," I told myself. "But even if it is, this envelope belonged to Walter. You need to know for sure." As reluctant as I was, I began reaching for the envelope when someone knocked on my door. I jerked my hand back and slid the drawer closed, "Alex?" Mom's voice called from the other side. "Yeah Mom," I called back. My mother, again! How many times was she going to interrupt me tonight? The door opened and Mom stuck her head in. "Someone's here to see you." "Someone to see me?" That was impossible. Other than Shelly, no one knew where I lived. "It's the boy that called earlier," Mom said. "He's waiting outside. I invited him in but he said he preferred to wait on the porch." What in hell was Austin doing here? She paused, studying me with her eyes. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "Everything's fine, Mom," I said slipping from behind my desk. "He probably wants my notes from class." I followed my mother down the stairs. She'd left the door partially open. I could see Austin's silhouette through the open space. His back was to us He was looking out, down the street. Mom touched my arm, snapping me back. "Are you sure everything is okay, Alex? I think it's odd that this boy just happens to show up at our door, in the middle of the night." "He's a classmate. Mother And it's not the middle of the night. It's not even eight-thirty." "I don't know, Honey," my mother mused. "Maybe we should talk to him together." "Mom, please don't embarrass me." I begged, "He's a friend." My mother's mouth turned up in a weak smile but I could see worry behind her eyes. "Okay Honey, if you say so. I'll be in the kitchen with your father, if you need us." "Thanks you," I said. "I'll be fine Mom, really." I waited until she disappeared into the kitchen and then padded across the carpet, halting when I reached the front door. Austin still had his back to me and seemed unaware I was here. Taking advantage of his preoccupation, I studied the boy that caused me so much confusion. He was John's height but with broader shoulders and trimmer waist. His thick tangle of hair was a soft brown and begged to be touched. I wondered what he might be seeing with those blue-gray eyes, what he might be thinking, if other girls thought he was cute. "Careful Alex," cautioned "Practical Alex". "You're getting way too involved right now. " "I just want to see what he wants." "That's not how you were thinking." "Go away," I said, mentally flicking "Piratical Alex" off my shoulder. I hated when she was right. Taking a breath, I stepped onto the porch. "Hi," I said, moving up beside him. He turned at the sound of my voice, his eyes more gray than blue in the dim light of the porch. "I...I wasn't expecting you to...uh... come over after... uh... everything." I fumbled the words, frowned, and tried to recover. "That didn't come out right...I meant--" "It's okay...I know what you meant," said Austin. "I wanted to bring you this." He held my phone out to me. "I found it when I went to pick up my bike. It was lying in the grass, near the student parking area. I thought you'd want it." "Thanks," I said, taking it from him. I turned the phone over in my hand, wiping the traces of dirt off on my pants. "I should have cleaned it off before I gave it to you," he said. "I...I didn't think." "It's fine," I said, smiling to show it was.. "Austin, about this afternoon, when I..." unable to finish, I let the words trail off. "Kissed me? " Austin finished, " I know it didn't mean anything. You felt sorry for me, like at Big Burger when you held my hand. It's okay Alex. It really is. You see the real reason I came back tonight wasn't for that." He nodded toward my phone. "It was to tell you I'm moving." "What! Why?" "Dad s closing down the fertilizer plant. It's losing money. But what he really wants is to get me away from Clarksville. He says it's a bad environment for me. We're moving after the holidays." "Austin, he can't do that! Most of the town works at Clarksville Fertilizer. If it closes people will lose their jobs, all the stores will close. What will happen to everyone?" What would happen to me? I would have to say good-bye to Shelly, Brett, and Abby. Shelly was my girl anchor, I needed her. "It sucks. I know," Austin said. "But that's what my dad's decided. I think he's been planning it for a while. Getting my bike stolen didn't help, though." "This is my fault," I said. "No it's not," Austin said. His expression hardened. "It was that kid. I'm just glad I happened by." I suppressed a shudder. I didn't want to think of how things might have ended, if not for Austin. "Look, promise you won't say anything about the plant." Austin said directing my attention back to the now, "He thinks I came here to give you back your phone. He doesn't know I overheard him talking to one of his board members about it. He's going to break the news to everyone after Thanksgiving. He's also giving them a severance bonus." "I won't say anything," I said. "Thanks." he smiled. The smile thinned, He jammed his hands in his pocket. Eyes cast downward, he rocked nervously on the balls of his feet. "I'm...I'm gonna miss you, Alex," he finally managed "We never really did anything together, but you're still the best part of my time in Clarksville." I felt both embarrassed and ashamed at him saying this. I'd been a real bitch toward Austin. I wished now, I could take it all back. "I'll miss you, too," I said. He barked a laugh. "I doubt it....but thanks, just the same." We stood together looking out over the yard and suddenly I saw what had held his attention when I'd come downstairs-- his bike. Parked at the edge of our yard, it gleamed magically beneath the street lamp. For an instant, I was overcome with the desire to grab Austin's hand, mount the bike behind him and ride away. "I guess I need to go," he said, breaking the spell. "Will I see you at school tomorrow?" I asked. "Sure," he said, but I knew he was lying. He wouldn't be there. I watched him descend the steps and then make his way to where his bike gleamed under the street light. Straddling the motorcycle he settled onto the seat as if he'd been born to ride. Maybe he had. He waved once and then engine roared to life and he was racing away. "Goof-bye Austin, I whispered, knowing I wouldn't see him at school, or any where else, ever again My time with Austin was over. -Psychiatric Explorations of the Fetus With Needles- I went back inside feeling as if I'd run a marathon, only to come in dead last The stair climb was an ordeal and when I reached the landing, I could hear Tyler's voice through his open door. He said something and laughed. I was sure he was on the phone with Brooke. I wondered how he'd take the news we were moving because Dad was out of a job. He'd have to say good-bye to his girl friend. As much as I despised her, Tyler really cared for Brooke. I felt sorry for my brother and myself. I closed the door to my room and dropped onto the bed. Feet on the floor, I propped my elbows on my knees and cradled my head in my hands. The last few months had been hard, but if we were forced to leave Clarksville, things would get a lot harder Where would we go? Did it matter? We'd be leaving the place I thought of as home. John might have been from Sacramento but this was s where Alex was "born". My friends were here, This was where I knew how to be Alex. I wasn't sure I could still be her somewhere else. Across the room, stars rushed forward on my monitor, disappearing when they reached the edge, giving the illusion of plunging through space. I'd been gone so long my computer had defaulted to the screen saver. I exhaled a sigh and clomped over to my desk to tap the mouse. The stars faded and my desk top reappeared. Easing into my chair, I opened my notebook, glancing half-heatedly at the page filled with Alex's tight neat script, so different than John's scrawl. Each line began with the name of an online comic dealer followed by their email address and a short description of what they offered. Flipping the notebook closed I pushed it aside. Comics were the last thing on my mind right now. Switching off my computer I watched the monitor go satisfyingly black. The color matched my mood. Without thinking about it, my hand stretched down to the bottom drawer of my desk/ I slid it open and lifted out the manila envelope stamped FOR EYES ONLY.. It was past time to see what Uncle Walter had been up to and I was in the perfect state of mind for it. I laid the package on top of my desk, face down and grasped the brass tabs that held the flap closed. Then I paused. I'd been interrupted every time I tried to open it. I needed a place where I wouldn't be bothered I thought for a moment. There was one place where my privacy would be guaranteed. Tucking the envelope under my arm, I carried it to the door. A quick peep out revealed an empty hall. With with a few quick steps I was in the bathroom locking the door. I perched on the lowered toilet lid with the manila package in my lap. My hands trembling, I fumbled the brass closures open. Excitement surged through me as I reached inside. I eased out the thick sheaf of paper and got my first look at the envelope's content. The stack was stapled in the top left hand corner with a single fastener. The type on the cover page read Department of Counter Terrorism Biological Research Division Fairfax, Virginia Dr. Walter Edwards, You have received this package via special courier. The contents are for YOUR EYES ONLY. I flipped the cover page out of the way. In the center of the second page were the words: PROJECT E.D.E.N. Enhanced DNA for Enemy Neutralization THIS INFORMATION IS FOR EYES ONLY. IT MAY NOT BE SHARED UNDER THREAT OF VIOLATION OF FEDERAL LAW. For a moment I couldn't do anything but listen to the sound of my breathing accompanied by my heart pounding in my ears. This wasn't one of my uncle's peccadilloes. This was something else. Something major. What the hell had Walter been involved in? The next page answered my question. Dr. Edwards, You received this report thorough special courier as conformation we have received authorization to began Project E.D.E.N. We wish to commend you for your contributions to the project. Without your dedicated work in the field of gene modification, project E.D.E.N. would not have been possible. Once the logistics have been established you will be contacted with a detailed briefing as to what we require to move the project forward. Until then continue to pose as a researcher for Biocrop as cover. Sincerely, Benjamin Schwartz Colonel, United States Army I took a breath. Walter had worked with the Rat Pack.!!! I settled back on the toilet, the porcelain tank cool against my back through my thin shirt. I forced myself to be calm. Then I flipped the page. ANALYSIS OF SUBJECT ADAM as presented to the Committee on Psychological and Biological Defense Department of Counter Terrorism Adam is a male child of around 8-10 years of age of average height and medium build. His personality type has been identified as beta. He tests in the 8th to 9th percentile in most subjects. Subject Adam has one sibling, a younger brother. He has no sisters or female cousins. Both parents hold advanced university degrees. Adam and his parents remain unaware Adam was used as a test subject. The following data covers a span of sixteen months. DNA samples were collected several times over the test period. The first sample (sample A) is Adam's DNA before the viruses were induced The subsequent DNA samples ( labeled I, II, III ) record the effects of the virus as it was modified and administered to Subject Adam over a time period of sixteen months. The rest of the pages were undecipherable, filled with honeycomb shapes, back and forward slashes, directional arrows and something that looked like a bar codes standing on end. This was punctuated with words like "meioses" (next to a diagram of circles (with pairs of lines inside them) and arrows flowing into a sort of triangular shape) and Nucleic acid sequences (there were several of these, one for each of the virus samples) transcribed as a series of capital letters with a preponderance of A,T,C,and Gs. I let the report drop into my lap. The data might as well have been gibberish. I didn't understand any of it. One thing was for sure. Whoever this "Adam "guy was, he had been fucked with pretty good-- enough to fill a dozen pages. I did understand that. I thought about taking the report back to my room and doing a search of some of the notations on my computer Maybe I could translate some of the pages. But why bother? I knew how it ended. I'd been written into the script. A wiser course would be to put it back in the shed and forget it. I glanced down and saw the envelope had fallen onto the floor. Another envelope, this one white peeped out of the open flap. Somehow I'd missed it. Curious again, I laid the report I'd been reading on the floor, replacing it in my lap with the manila envelope/ Then I eased out the white one. The white envelope looked exactly like its host, down to the brass fasteners on the back. The only difference besides its color was its smaller size. A handwritten note was attached to the front by a bit of tape. I worked the tape loose. Holding the note in front of me, I read: To my good friend Walter Edwards: Walt, I think today calls for a celebration. As you already know from this report, the committee has approved Project Eden. It's hard to believe what began as shop talk one night, over a couple of beers, will soon become a multimillion dollar project and could change the science of genetics forever. It was touch and go at first. The initial DNA samples didn't look too promising. The first strain of the virus had no detectable effect at all. The second sample showed traces of-- for lack of a better word-- mosaicism. Mutations are common when viruses are present and because the mutations were minor we didn't think much of it. But the third sample couldn't be ignored, It was as if parts of the kid's DNA sequence had been written over. Now he had a second x chromosome. I'm not talking about the xxy pattern of Klinfelter Syndrome. This was something different! Check the diagram on page ten of the analysis briefing and you'll see what I'm talking about. In a nut shell, you did it, Walt. You fucking did it! I picked up the analysis off the floor and flipped through the pages, counting front to back until number ten. Glancing at the page, I noted the same circles and directional arrows as before, along with something like an x shape, made up of two blue lines that crossed a little below the center. The lines made a series of compressed ovals for each leg of the x, with red dots scattered here and there. Whatever it was illustrating was beyond my understanding. I'd taken biology but never encountered anything like this. And what in the hell was Klinfelter Syndrome, anyway.? I put the analysis aside and turned back to the letter, something I could halfway understand. I suppose Biocorp deserves a little credit. You developed the virus in their labs using their equipment. Too bad they'll never know the part they played in all of this. The same with that kid. But what is it they say? The end justifies the means. Can't wait to see you face to face so we can toast each other to our success. Until then keep your feet dry and your face to the wind (ha ha). Your friend and colleague, Charlie Swanson. Both Frank and Dino had showed up in the report, the only person missing was Sammy. I looked at the white envelope wondering if if something inside would point to Sammy's identity. I was pretty sure it was Walter but I needed more proof. I leaned down and placed the handwritten note on top of the Analysis report. I could feel the excitement building again as I thumbed open the brass tabs and lifted open the flap. Holding my breath, I reached in and pulled out a paper sleeve. Someone had written across the sleeve with a blue fine point marker. I recognized the handwriting. It was the same as the note's--Dr. Swanson's. It read: Walt, I'm including this as an afterthought, Shortly after we received Adam's DNA samples the department installed an experimental computer called a MAYA-II. Where the standard computer has silicon circuits this one uses DNA strands and get this--the damn thing uses logic to play tic -tac- toe and it wins every fucking time (ha ha). What makes this computer so valuable is its ability to examine human tissue and reach conclusions in ways a traditional computer cannot. It took a while, but with the help of the resident programers and engineers we were able to run the samples you sent and extrapolate results if the virus hadn't died prematurely. Then we converted the results into CGIs. The first image is one of the photos of Adam you sent with the DNA. It's the one we used to generate the two CGIs. I paused. So there was a photo of Adam. I read on: The second image is computer generated. It shows how Adam might look at seventeen. We chose that age because it corresponds to the age of a young terrorist --the type the virus was designed to be used against. The third image ( computer generated of course) gives us an idea of the physical changes the virus would have on Adam if it developed to full maturity. This one is going to blow your mind ! Here's a hint. It's a girl??!!! Not what we expected -even better! If MAYA extrapolated correctly and the CGI is accurate (and I think it is ) this is the direction Project Eden should go. Your buddy, Charlie. I blinked. The virus hadn't originally been developed to cause gender change. They were trying for something else. So what had they intended it to do? I shrugged. Did it matter. I knew what it had done to me. That was all that mattered. There was a picture of Adam in the white envelope with the CGIs. I was interested to know what he looked like. He had been manipulated by the Rat Pack like me. The only difference was he'd stayed Adam. I slid the first image out of its sleeve, its glossy surface slicky smooth to my touch. As the image inched into view, a wave of disbelief swept over me. What I was looking at couldn't be-- but it was! It was a photo of me when I was ten. I was standing naked in my grandmother's bathroom by the tub. My hair was a wet mat of tangles. Beads of water dotted my body and puddled on the floor around me. I was staring at at the far wall, a curious expression on my face. I was Adam! Now everything made sense. Walter hadn't been a pedophile. That wasn't what the photographs were about at all. He'd taken the pictures as part of his research. He used me because I was handy. I imagined him taking DNA samples from my tooth brush or off a glass from which I'd drank or in a dozen other ways. Infecting me would have been just as easy. If I hated Walter before, I despised him now. "You fucking bastard" I hissed. I thought I might cry. There was a rap on the door followed by Tyler's voice. "He,y Alex, are you close to done in there. Other people have to go besides you." "Go away!" I yelled, wiping away tears forming in my eyes. More rapping followed by, "Alex! Hurry up!" "I'm getting in the shower. Use the bathroom in Mom and Dad's room." I walked over to the shower and cut on the water strong enough for Tyler to hear. "Bitch." His voice was shrill over the pounding of the shower. I stuffed everything back into the manila envelope, my hands moving robot like, my mind incapable of directing them. I felt numb. When I was done, I sat on the toilet listening to the spray of the shower battering the tiles. I imagined the stream of water flowing into the tub and down the drain, taking my soul with it. That night I dreamed I was at my grandmother's. Walter happened to be there and for some reason he brought a football. He and my dad took me outside to teach me how to throw it. I wasn't that interested but Walter made a big deal of how boys should be able to do things like that. The lesson didn't go very well. Every time I threw the ball it wobbled horribly or tumbled end over end, nose diving to the ground, before it reached its target. Catching it was as difficult as throwing. A few times I managed to wrap my arms around it, clutching it awkwardly to my chest. But mostly it popped free to fall down by my feet. When my mother called through the back door to tell my father he had a phone call, I saw an excuse to follow him inside. I'd had enough of football. I started after him when my uncle stopped me, holding me back until my dad disappeared inside and we were alone. "You throw like a girl, Johnny," he said. "Like a sissy little girl." "I never played football before," I said in my defense. "You're nine years old and never tossed a football!" He shook his head as if in disbelief. "What kind of boy is Steve raising you to be? I guess he'll be fitting you for dresses next." "I'm going inside," I said, pulling free from my uncle. "Go ahead, Johnny, run away," my uncle called after me. " But sooner or later people are going to find out what a girl you really are." I woke the next morning feeling icky; the dream still vivid in my mind. Except it hadn't been a dream. It was a memory. I'd forgotten about that day until my subconscious called it up during the night. It was the day I began to understand the sick person my uncle was. "I'm not going to think about this," I said, stomping across my bedroom floor. Flinging open my closet door I tore into my wardrobe for something to wear to school. "Why do I even care what I fucking wear?" I asked myself. "Everything's wrecked. Austin's leaving, my dad's losing his job and my fucking uncle practically raped me." Ripping a pair of skinny jeans off their hanger, I flung them at my bed. They landed on target in a wad. With the rage still growing, I snatched a long sleeve tee and tossed it. It landed on the floor. The missed throw pissed me off even more. I scooped up the shirt and slammed it down on top of the jeans. Then I whipped my nightshirt up, over my head and let it drop to the floor. Breathing heavily, in just my panties I stared at the tangle of clothes. There was no way of getting out of school so I might as well do this. "Come on Alex," I said to myself. "Time to get fucking dressed. I grabbed my jeans and started to thrust my leg into my pants when I realized I wasn't wearing a bra. I'd slept without one last night. "Damnit," I snarled, tossing the pants back on the bed. I started toward my dresser when I heard the click of my bedroom door. I spun around. Tyler stood in the opening. He gawked at my nakedness, then a grin spread slowly across his face. "Don't you fucking knock," I cried covering my breasts with my hands, crossing my legs to hide my crouch. "Get out and close the door. I'm getting dressed." "Mom said hurry up. You're going to be late for breakfast," he drawled, continuing to stare. I made it to the bed and grabbed my comforter. Wrapping it around me, I charged at my brother "For the last time, get the fuck out," I screamed. Tyler scurried away laughing just as I reached him. "Bastard," I shrieked, slamming the door. "You don't look very happy this morning, Princess," my dad said, when I walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. "I'm fine, Daddy," I said, my voice grumpy. "Your eggs are almost cold you took so long," said Mom setting a plate scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me as I took my seat at the table. "What were you doing up there." I glared at my brother. "I was trying to decide what to wear to school." "Are you coming home tomorrow?" Mom asked. "What do you mean?" I asked filling my glass with orange juice. "Tomorrow. The night of your sleepover. Are you coming home first or going straight to Shelly's?" "I'm coming home. Ms. Gartman's picking me up later. She's bringing Shelly and Brett to help me load things." What was up with all these questions? Why couldn't people leave me alone. "What about your friend, Abbey? She's not helping?" "Abbey's busy, Mother!" I snapped. Then in a calmer voice, "She's meeting us at Shelly's." "Sounds like you've got it all planned out. Princess," said my father. "Dad, do you have to keep calling me that. You've called me Princess twice in the last two minutes. Geez!" The table fell silent. Even my brother seemed lost for words. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. My father lowered his fork full of egg, his face registering hurt and surprise.. "I'm sorry Prin--...Honey. I thought you liked to be called that." "I did at first," I said keeping my eyes focused on my breakfast. "..it's just...I... I'm...I'm getting to old for that. I'm growing up." "Well I'll try to remember to address you in a more mature manner." My dad chuckled. "We're going to the mall Saturday" I said to my mother, switching subjects, "so I won't be home till around supper." "Well you can't go to the mall without spending money," said Dad. "I'll stop by the ATM on the way home from work. Will thirty dollars be enough? "Thirties fine." I said, even though money was the last thing I cared about right now. Funny, I thought. My father was eager to do things for me, as Alex, he would never have done for John. He wouldn't have cared if John had money for the mall or not. Dad stood, dabbing away breakfast crumbs from the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "Got to get ready for work. I'll see you ladies... oh... and gentleman, later." "We've got to go too, Alex," said Tyler. "Sarge doesn't wait and I don't feel like walking to school." Getting away from the breakfast table was fine with me. The sooner I got out of the house and alone, the happier I'd be. I followed Tyler into the kitchen where I emptied my mostly uneaten breakfast into the garbage disposal. Then I rinsed my glass and plate and placed them in the dishwasher. Mom stopped me on the way back. "Alex," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I want to know what's going on. You've been acting funny ever since that boy came over last night. Tyler said he was the one that caused the fight between you and Shelly Why didn't you tell me that's who he was. You aren't experimenting with him are you?" "Experimenting? What are you talking about, Mother?" I asked, reaching for my book bag. I'd left it by my chair. "Having sex." I turned to face her my cheeks burning. "I can't believe you just said that. It's nice to know how much you trust me!" "Alex, I didn't mean it like that." She said hurriedly, reaching out toward me. "Its just that boy... he called... and then showed up wanting to see you and--" "I've got to go or I'll miss my bus," I said, pushing past her. "Alex... Honey...wait..." she called, but I was running for the door and away. The idea my mom thought I might be having sex really blew my mind. Had it occurred to her that except for school, or the occasional visit to Shelly's, I never left the house. Unless I was sneaking boys in through my bedroom window (which would be a feat since it was on the second floor) it was kinda impossible-- get a fucking clue. It would serve her right if I were to get pregnant. "Chill Alex, " cautioned Common Sense Alex. "She's worried about you. If she didn't care, she wouldn't give a fuck what you did." If that was true, I thought, she had a funny way of showing it. I was still fuming when I got to the bus stop. Fortunately for Tyler, he kept his distance and his mouth shut while we waited for Sarge. It must have been obvious I was in the mood for blood. Though the bus was so full kids had to jam together in the back, or triple up in the other seats, no one asked to sit by me. I spent the ride to school alone, thinking of how I'd settle up with Chrissy Allen and Arnold Haas when I got there. It was Shelly's day to do morning announcements. I stood at my locker watching for Chrissy. I didn't really have a plan. The bus ride had proven unproductive in that respect. There was also the matter of Chrissy being twice my size. I'd have to fight dirty. Chrissy Allen walked into view just as the first period bell rang. She was accompanied by Jillian Prescott with the big boobs and Lily Chan. They were chatting and laughing and I hated them for it. Chrissy had ruined people's lives (mine and Austin's, anyway) yet she went on as if all the world were rainbows and candy. That was about to change. I charged forward, angling so when we met I was standing between them and the senior hallway. "Hey, Bitch," I said, planting myself in front of them, legs spread apart, fists on my hips, blocking their way. Chrissy looked down at me, a sarcastic grin on her face. "Excuse me?' she laughed, her tone all innocence and sweetness. "I called you a bitch," I said. "I know it was you behind that shit Arnold tried to pull yesterday." "Are you gonna let this little cunt talk to you like that, Chrissy ?" Jillian asked. "It's cool," Chrissy said to Jillian the Jugs. She turned back to me. " I know what you're trying to do Tetras but it won't work. You were kicked out of the Debs. Get over it." "It's not over" I said. I wanted a fight. "Oh, yes it is," Chrissy said coolly. "Watch me." She raised her hand and made a pointing motion with her finger. "Mr. Backes, over here." I turned to see Backes pushing his way past the oncoming students. "What's the problem, Miss Allen." He asked. "This freshman won't leave us alone. She's trying to start an argument. She's going to make us late for class." Backes looked at me. "Tetras, I've had problems with you before. Why won't you leave these girls alone?" When I didn't answer he pivoted back to the Debs. "You girls go on to class. I'll deal with Ms. Tetras. She won't bother you again." "I've had about enough of you, Tetras." Backes said, after Chrissy and her posse left. "You have been a problem since you enrolled here. This is your last warning. The next time we have a chat, it will be in Principal Daily's office. Understand." I nodded, struggling not break down into tears. "I hope so, for your sake," said Mr, Backes. Turning on his heel he stormed away. I reached Ms. Boyd's literature class just as the tardy bell rang. She flashed me a disapproving look but didn't send me to the office for a tardy ship. I took my seat relived to see Arnold's was empty. Thank God for small favors! -Where are you now my son?- "You're moping around today." Shelly said. We'd copped our usual seats on the bleachers. The boys on the gym floor had formed a circle. They passed the ball around taking turns trying to dunk. Occasionally one would get lucky and the girls below us would cheer. "I'm just tired," I said," I had a late night last night and didn't sleep very well," "It's not just today, Alex." Shelly countered. "You've been going on like this for days." "I've had a lot on my mind, that's all.'" "Are you sure?" Shelly asked. I took a breath. "It's all good. I promise." "Grandma said we'll pick you up tomorrow about five." Shelly said changing the subject. " Did you get the sleeping bags.?" "Yeah. My dad has air mattresses to go with them,. I got them too." Shelly clasped her hands together. Her face lit with a huge grin, "This is going to be soooo great." She said. "Aren't you excited? We haven't done this since Halloween." "Yeah it's gonna be fantastic," I said. Shelly frowned. "You don't sound too excited." "I swear," I said, putting my hand over my heart. "I really am looking forward to the sleepover. Its going to be the best one ever. Quit worrying. Please?" "Sorry." Shelly said, " It's just I've never hosted one before. It's sort of a big deal for me." "It is a big deal." I agreed, 'But overkill is not a good thing. let it happen. okay?" "Sure." * * * "I can't understand why they would move." Brett complained craning her head to better see across the lunchroom where the Debs sat at a back table. "I mean they're the Debs. They own this school." "They're a bunch of stuck up bitches," I said, " and I'm glad they're gone so I don't have to look at their ugly faces." "What are you taking about, Alex?" Brett countered. " You sit with your back to them. Besides you used to be one of them" "I was a member for like a day," I said. "I couldn't be fake so I quit." "I heard you were kicked out." "What is it with you Brett," I said having enough. " Why are you always trying to start shit with me." "I'm not starting anything. I'm just trying to get to the facts straight." "Fine, believe what you want. That's what you're going to do anyway." "Hey cool it guys," Abby said. "Yeah," said Shelly. "We're having a sleepover tomorrow remember. We should be figuring out what we want to do not arguing about the Debs." "Let Alex decide," said Brett sounding miffed. " She's the one that worries about being pretentious. I wouldn't want to make a suggestion that doesn't meet her standards." "Okay," Abby barked. "It stops now. Got it. I'm not going to let something stupid ruin tomorrow night." "Fine." I said. "Whatever," Brett echoed grudgingly. There was still tension between Brett and I when the bell rang ending the lunch period. We walked out of the lunchroom as a foursome but Brett kept Shelly and Abby between us. "I hope you don't wreck things again, Alex." Brett said. We'd dropped Shelly off at her class and stood outside Brett's classroom. "You know what," I said "Maybe you won't have to worry about it. Maybe I'll skip tomorrow night." Abby's face paled. "Stop it right now!" she cried. "I don't know what;s going on between you two but get over it." "I don't have a problem," I said. She does." "It's fucking Alex," said Brett. "She's the one wrecking things. Just like she did at the dance." "You're friends." Abby reminded us. "You need to act like it. If not for yourselves, for Shelly. She's put a lot of work into this. The least you can do is get along.." "Fine," I said. I thought for a moment and then extended my hand to Brett. "Friends?" "You're always doing that." Brett said, ignoring my gesture " Girls don't shake hands. That's a boy thing." "I think she wants a hug," Abby laughed. Brett made a face. "No thanks" she said, ducking into her class. "Her panties are in a wad." I told Abby as we walked in the direction of our classes. "What did I do to pissed her off so much?" "Nothing," Abby said. " It's just you're so much prettier than us, Alex. You could have any boy in this school you wanted. You're so lucky and you act like you don't even care. It's hard not to be jealous of you or even mad at you sometimes. We'll never be pretty like you. Brett is just feeling left out." Sitting in class, the last period of the day, I thought about Abby's comment. It was true my friends would never be beauty queens. Abby was skinny and her pasty complexion needed a good five or six hours in a tanning bed. And that was just to get her to a normal color. Brett still carried baby fat in her cheeks and chin and the page boy cut she was so fond of didn't help. Shelly didn't fare much better with her crazy red hair and lack of fashion sense. I knew boys found me attractive. I'd pushed away their advances. I'd been gifted with something all of my friends desired (Brett so badly she would have probably sold her soul for it if that were possible) and I'd never use. "Really?" Questioned Practical Alex. "What about Austin? You used your looks on him when you were falling for him and you know it. "That's crazy," I said. "I never 'fell' for him." "No? Then why did you practically melt when you saw him standing on the porch at your house. Face it Alex, you're more of a girl than you want to admit." "No!" Ms. Campanella 's (who was holding class for Mr. Widdon our regular teacher- he was attending a parent conference this period) head shot up from the book she was reading. "Who said that?" "Sorry," I said realizing I'd spoken out loud. I dived into the book work Mr. Widdon left us, but Abby's comments and the question about Austin stayed with me. * * * I didn't have a mirror in my room but I didn't need one. Stripped down to only my panties and bra, starting with my breasts, I let guided my hands downward tracing the gentle taper of my waist then the slight expanse of my hips. My figure wasn't as pronounced as some of the girls but it was there. I inched my hand further down until I touched the low cut waistband of my panties. Following the thin elastic strip, my fingers crept up the tiny swell of my "tummy" then descended to the little mound just above the cleft of my vagina. I pressed my fingers against the fleshy hump noting its smoothness I could feel my pelvic bone beneath the skin. This was roughly where my dick had been. I sniffed my fingers, breathing in a trace of girl smell. How different I had become-- not just physically but mentally. I should have missed my penis but I didn't. I shoved my shirt and pants aside where I'd dropped them on the bed, clearing a place to sit. Balanced on the edge of my mattress, I puzzled over where I'd landed with all of this. Dresses weren't a big deal anymore. The weird disconnect I felt wearing them had faded away like my missing penis. I liked the way boys acted all goofy when I was around, thinking it would impress me. But most of all, I treasured the attention my dad bestowed on me now. He'd had become a very special person to me. We possessed that unique bond only daughters can share with their fathers, a closeness Tyler would never know. It was one of the cool things about being Alex. In some ways it was hard to imagine not being a girl. I still wasn't a girly girl and doubted I ever would be. I mostly wore jeans and shits. I wasn't into makeup or fashion, but in many ways I functioned better as girl than John had as a boy. I'd never been competitive and now I didn't have to be (I'm not saying girls don't compete -we do but differently than boys). I didn't have to worry about sports. (John hated them but everyone expected him join one of the school teams and compete.) I could be as passive or aggressive as I liked and no one hassled me about it. Maybe Walter had been right. John had never been much of a boy. Oh, he enjoyed biking down suicide hill (after the first time. He'd been scared shitless that time) and swimming in the pool at the university where Dad worked. But that's where it ended. He never liked to wrestle or play football and was chicken when it came to taking dares. He let himself be bullied rather than fight. I blinked. Was I beginning to think of John in third person? I thought maybe I was. It wasn't just me. No one in my family mentioned John anymore. They treated me like I'd grown up a girl. I frowned. Shouldn't I be happy about that? I was the one that said all I wanted was to fit in. My family was making it happen but the idea of John being forgotten bothered me. I had to figure this out. After I dressed into my shirt and jeans again, I peeped out into the hall. I didn't want Tyler sticking his nose in what I was about to do. It was no ones business but mine. His door was closed. I could hear the muffled voice of Dick Clark reminding contestants 25,000 dollars could be theirs if they could reach the top of the pyramid. Even though they were reruns (the show's host having vacated the earthly plane for greener pastures) my brother watched every episode no matter how many times it was aired. Not because he like Pyramid. Tyler was fascinated with Dick Clark. "He's the ultimate schmoozer" Tyler told me once. "That guy can talk anybody out of anything." Creeping past my brother's closed door I slipped into my parents room. Easing the door to, I slid open the bottom drawer of my mother's dresser and lifted out the family album. It felt bigger and heavier than I remembered. I lugged it to the bed. I took a moment, mulling things over, making sure I wanted this before hoisting myself onto the bed beside it. Inside were photographs of family vacations and celebrations. This is where I would find John. Hauling the photo album onto my lap I began my search. I worked through pages filled with frozen moments, captured by a camera's wink. Faces smiled out of glossy rectangles, polished paper windows looking into rooms where no one moved. In one, my mother held John as a baby in her arms. My father stood by her side beaming proudly. In another, John (a little older now) sat on a carpet, strewn with wrapping paper. Toys, hastily examined and then abandon, lay upside down or on their sides. Behind him, paper letters strung together beneath the mantle spelled out Merry Christmas. In another Christmas photo, John (older still) posed beside a shiny red bicycle. There were photos of birthdays (in some John wore party hats, in others he held a presents like trophies or stood beside cakes proclaiming happy birthday in colorful piped icing). In one vacation shot, John stood in the surf, clutching a boogie board. In another, he and Tyler displayed sea shells in their open palms. There were other photographs, hunting Easter Eggs at Grandma Edwards, dressed in costumes for Halloween. Some of the photos left me stumped. I was either too young to remember when they were taken or the event hadn't left enough impression to be memorable. With others, the memories blossomed like flowers, heavy with fragrance only to shrivel away when I tired to embrace them. The boy in the photo album wasn't me anymore. He was just someone I used to know. I carried the photo album back to where I found it in the linen drawer of my mothers dresser. Lowering it reverently back in place I slid the drawer closed, symbolically (or not so symbolically) closing the chapter of my life titled "John". * * * I sat at my desk gazing across the space between myself and the window. Through the open blinds the Barnes house,its massive form back- lit from the setting sun, spilled a jagged shadow into the street. "We're not done, you and me," it whispered. "Yes we are. " I said. "The plant's closing. We'll be moving away. I won't be around for you to fuck with anymore." The house grinned, its window eyes twinkling with reflected light " I'm a part of you Alex. You were born in me. There's nowhere you can go that I can't follow." I shoved my chair back. Making a mad scrambled for the window, I snapped the blinds closed. Returning to my desk I could hear the house's laughter in my mind. I was still brooding over things when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I looked up to find my mother standing over me. Her hands were clasped, her face troubled. Neither of us spoke. "Alex, Honey," Mom said at last. "I'm sorry about this morning. You've been through so...so much the past few months... I worry about you." She paused and took a breath. "Sometimes I say the wrong things." I'd lost Austin, and John. Soon I'd lose Clarksville and my friends. But I still had my family. The reassurance made me tear up. I sprang out of my chair. Throwing my arms around my mother, I hugged her. "I love you Mom." I whispered. "Tell Dad its okay to call me Princess." "I love you too, Baby," she said softly. "I'll tell him." * * * It was Friday afternoon and I was feeling anxious about the sleepover, that night. Brett had acted cool toward me at lunch. I'd done my best to smooth over it so Shelly didn't notice. Brett and I had never gotten along like I had with Abby and my BFF Shelly, but now she seemed downright hostile. I thought about confronting her after the sleepover. If she didn't want to be my friend, fine. Until then I'd try to get along. I wasn't going to ruin things for my best friend Tyler got off the bus at Nathan's. My brother claimed they were working on a project for school (dubious-- more likely, they'd scored a porn DVD they planned to watch-- but who cared) Tyler said Nathan's parents would bring him home, when they were done. This was fine by me. With Mom and Dad at work, I had the house to myself. There was a note waiting for me on the coffee table, when I walked in the door. Next to it was forty dollars. It read: Dear Princess, I'm leaving you some mad money for the mall. Have fun. Mom says lock the door when you leave. Love Dad. The note made me smile. I skipped up the stairs to my room. I was beginning to feel good about tonight. When I reached the upstairs landing I meandered off to my parents room. Standing in front of Mom's full length mirror I studied my reflection. The girl in the mirror stared back at me through large blue eyes. I smiled at her and she smiled back. We'd become friends. Making the trek to my room, I had the uncharacteristic thought I should wear a dress or skirt to the mall tomorrow. Shelly loved dresses and looked for every excuse to wear one. If I wore one she could too, plus it would shut Brett up about me never dressing like a girl. I decided to go for it. My blue jean skirt with the frayed hem would be perfect. I dug it out of the closet and paired it with a pair of black tights to wear underneath (it was too cold for bare legs) The skirt was casual enough to go with any of my long sleeve pullovers. I chose three to pick from tomorrow. I added panties and bras to the mix, along with a couple of pairs of jeans. When I finished, I zipped everything up in my overnight bag and deposited it on the bed. Now all that was left was the sleeping bag. I'd stored them in very back of my closet and I had to struggle to get them out. I placed them in the corner of my room by the door, along with the two vinyl air mattresses and the plastic pump to inflate them. The air mattresses should make me popular with whoever didn't get the couch. Shelly had her own sleeping bag ( the cutesy kind designed for sleepovers ). She could have slept in her bed but she opted to stay in the den with us. I did a quick check to assured myself I hadn't forgotten anything. Then I sat down at my desk to catch my breath while I waited for Shelly. Maybe it was because I still couldn't wrap my brain around Walter being part of project EDEN. Or maybe, that years later, I'd be infected with a virus made from my own DNA (The odds of that happening seemed impossible.) but with time on my hands, I found myself sliding open the bottom drawer of my desk. Taking out manila envelope I placed it in front of me.. How long had we had it and I'd been unaware? Did it travel with us from Sacramento? It must have-- which meant the information had been there all along. If I'd found it sooner, I would have known what Walter had done and maybe... "And maybe what?" asked practical Alex, "Not one thing would have changed. You would have still obsessed over Monica and Bradley would still have infected you with the virus." I contemplated what Practical Alex said, thinking she was right. Even if I had known everything, including what they were doing at the fertilizer plant, I wouldn't have known about Bradley's plan to get even. It would have happened just the same. My mind flashed back to my conversation with Shelly's grandmother and her belief in serendipity, She'd alleged Shelly and I had been destined to become girl friends. Knowing what I knew now, unless I'd been part of a mega -coincidence (something I didn't believe in) she could be right. So had I been destined to become Alex from birth ? If my run in with Bradley never happened would I have ended up a girl some other way? It made more sense, if serendipity were true, to have been born a girl My dad could have still lost his position at the university and taken the Clarksville job. We still would have moved here and Shelly and I would have still met - only without all the twists and turns. "You're thinking crazy again, Alex," said Practical Alex " Forget the fucking what ifs. It happened because it happened. Let it go. Leave the metaphysics to the lunatics on late night radio." "Alex are you in here?" Shelly was here! I jammed the envelope back in the bottom drawer, pushing it closed. "Oh there you are." Shelly said opening the door to my room. "The front door was open so I came in. I hope that was all right." "Sure, Come on in and we'll start loading." "Let me get Brett, She didn't want to come upstairs until she knew it was okay." "Go ahead, I"ll get stuff ready to move ," I said. I began sorting through the stuff that had to go, figuring out the best way to divide it up when I heard Shelly and Brett in the hall. "Wow so this is your room," said Brett stepping through the door, looking around. "Not too bad." "It's a work in progress," I said. "It used to be my brother's room. I'm still rearranging." "It's come a long way since the last time I was here," said Shelly. "You should have seen it before." She laughed. "It wasn't a pretty sight." "Was this your brother's desk?' Brett asked wandering over to where I'd been a moment before. "Yeah," I said. "I asked my parents if I could get something nicer. I'm still waiting for an answer." "So why doe