Amy 37: Electric Prom Mayhem free porn video

Amy 37: Electric Prom Mayhem Copyright 2016 by Amy Komori The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2016 Amy Komori. All rights reserved. Chapter One: You're a Cannonball Winter went by without too much crazy shit happening (although Sarah picked up her first real boyfriend and that was kind of crazy, I guess). New Year's had sucked. We were supposed to play a show and both Gina and Lena ended up with the flu. We cancelled and while there were a number of parties going on, because I had picked up a freak stalker my mom felt I wasn't safe going out on my own. I ended up staying home and watching the count down on TV. Mom and I said good night not long after that and I fell into my bed with Tam and Paige Campion on my mind. I also wondered if Michelle, Dallas and Sarah had gone out. They sure hadn't called. Finally, before I fell asleep, I thought long and hard about Tam. And our relationship. The next day, New Year's Day 2002, like in the middle of the afternoon with stupid football all over TV, she gave me a call. "So," was the first thing out of her mouth and just hearing her voice again turned my whole body into jelly. "How was your New Year?" "Shitty," I admitted. "Everyone is sick and you ditched me for New York." "Yeah, sorry. We got to extend and I couldn't say no. God, we got in like an hour ago. I'm so exhausted." "Well, yeah. How was your New Year?" "I want to say, 'Shitty,' but actually it was pretty great. Sorry. We went to Time Square and saw the thingy drop." "Thingy?" "The ball or whatever." "You weren't scared about terrorists?" "No, but my mom kinda was. There were so many cops." "Oh." I wanted to tell her I missed her, but I just couldn't bring myself to get all gushy or sentimental or whatever. "I want to hear all about it. You know, in person." She laughed. "I have pics, too. You wanna see those?" "I want to see you," I blurted. And of course, I did. We hung out that afternoon and when she finally fucked me later that night it was the best in a long time. I almost cried I was so happy to be in her arms again and also because I couldn't stop thinking about Paige and I was so sure Tam would pick up on some subtle difference. But she didn't. After a while she pushed my legs apart and she was making me squirm again and all was right with the world. Then it was back to school. While the rest of the world turned totally to shit, things were going pretty well for me academically heading into my final spring at Delacroix High. I'd improved my grades, despite my continuing propensity for skipping classes whenever I felt like it. In other news, I was regularly attending meetings of our school's LGBT club and learning a lot. At first I'd felt mostly indifference towards it but Dallas was always there and we had a good time with everyone. I mean, a lot of stuff we learned was actually shitty stuff. The bad things. And to be honest, I kind of had a feeling the other people in the club were looking at me side-eyed sometimes just because I had this kind of rep as a total smart ass. I wondered if they knew how sincere I was, but then I'd be like, "Fuck it." A lot of that was probably just in my head. Ms. Green was always there to make sure things stayed on topic and she was really cool with us. Another very important thing was Psycho-Daniel, my personal stalker, couldn't come near me thanks to a restraining order. He just seemed to vanish, but I hadn't exactly forgotten him. For a while I was kind of nervous going into shows. Like he'd be there or something. But he wasn't. After a while the nervousness receded even if it didn't fully go away. I was always with someone, too, so that helped. Sarah, or Gina or Michelle Cho or Tamara. And the really good stuff. Silly Monkey were set to cut an album-length CD with Paige's all-chick indie label, Tufstuf Records. We had a week of studio space reserved for right after graduation in May. But best of all, we were probably going to open for Happy Monkey Do later in the summer when they hit our town on their first U.S. tour in six years, which thrilled me almost as much as having tall, raging Tamara for a girlfriend. Not that she was perfect or anything. I just thought she was, and that was enough. And Paige. Again. Our pre-Christmas sofa session turned into something more. Actually, we kind of had a side thing going, but not regularly. It was often enough. Paige had other shit going on and I was so into Tamara. Still, every so often if the coast was clear, after Paige would sit in on one of our Silly Monkey practices, she and I would leave in separate cars then meet up someplace. Sometimes we just talked. Sometimes we made out a little. Every so often we fucked. Then like a cold-blooded killer I'd go home and call Tam as if nothing had happened. Did I feel ashamed or guilty? Yes. Sometimes. Did I feel attractive and wanted? Yes to that, too. A lot. Being awakened to other possibilities was changing me as surely as magic had a long, long time ago. And as winter faded and the weather turned mellow, Michelle Cho and I hit the skatepark a lot more. I'd gotten used to the idea I'd peaked and would never be as good as the girls who turned pro, or even the ones who competed on the amateur circuit. I was still better at inline than any of the woodpusher guys in town were at skateboarding, I could still get massive air (I felt like a bird, but no one confused me with Nelly Furtado, who I hated), and they still called me Ayumi after this one Japanese pro (she was light-years beyond anything I could hope to be). Tamara sometimes said I was a goddess on blades, which filled me with rapture. Anyways, it made my skin tingle. Michelle said I was a shithead poser, and that filled me with rapture, too. Especially since I knew for a fact I was better than she was. And that's where Sarah found us, the skatepark. I was about to start a run on the vert, standing right up on the coping and getting ready to drop in when I saw her pull up and get out of her car. Even from where we were I could see something was wrong. I mean, she shut her door, but not all the way. But it was locked, so she was standing there jiggling the handle and tugging on it. She got her keys out of her bag, dropped them and crouched over to pick them up. Like flustered. So I said, "I'm out," and immediately skated down to see her. "Ayumi's a scared little kitten!" Stevie Sparks shouted. Stevie Sparks was a small annoyance and had been for a while, ever since he showed up one day and carved out a place for himself among the regular crew. Which, I guessed, he was a member of now. A regular. A regular little asshole. As usual, he was all tricked out like a mini-Eminem; I called him the Real Slim Shitass. The only thing that made him weirdly tolerable at all was I knew he had this crush on me, and his crude, stupid, and racist comments were his way of flirting. He knew I was into girls. Everyone there did. In a weird way, that increased their respect for me and I was like everyone's sister or friend or something. We could talk shit like I was one of the guys. With Sparks, though, it was different. Something about my being a girl and liking girls just really dug into him. Sparks also knew he was ugly as fuck. And a tiny ugly fucker at that. It all served to make him kind of scared of me in a way, too. He was about my size and I was pretty sure I could take him because he would fight like a boy and I wouldn't. So he was essentially harmless, just a stupid mouth, but I always had a better time when he wasn't around. I shot him a bird without giving him much of a look and I heard Michelle thumping up behind me. "Dyke-o-Rama," Sparks said, but no one laughed. Sarah looked terrible. Red faced, nearly in tears. She'd had a big fight with her first boyfriend, whose name happened to be Jace. I didn't know how many Jaces I knew. I'd lost count. But he was one of them. The main one, I supposed. Jace went to our school and usually he was okay. I mean just okay. He would never be on my list of favorite people. There were certain things about him I really should have been into. Like he was hella smart, almost as smart as Sarah and he made little movies and things where he contrived all these special effects. He was wicked funny, too. Like one of the funniest guys I knew and I didn't really find guys all that funny in the first place. Those two things were his positive traits. As for his negative ones, the single most annoying thing about him was always making fun of the movies I liked. To me. Specifically. I'd probably been kind of like that when I'd been a guy and that age, so I could forgive it a little. But in my new life and who I was now, that only went so far. I couldn't help that I liked things like "Drop Dead Fred" and "Adventures in Babysitting" now. They were encoded in my DNA somehow. And Jace was like super keyed in on my liking them. Not anyone else. Sarah liked them, too, but he didn't direct any of it at her. Maybe he thought because I was always snarking or saying rude shit I could handle it, or we were going to duel or spar or whatever the fuck you did with zingers and one-liners and all that cute ass verbal shit. Like I did with Gina and Michelle. Only with them I felt that under it all they really respected me and it was mutual. But with Jace? I felt anything BUT respected. I was really getting weary of it and feeling kind of singled out or picked on. He was fucking relentless and it just wasn't cool like it was when Michelle or Gina and I got into it. And if I told him to stop he'd tell me I was too sensitive. "I'm just joking," he'd say. Ugh. Oh, and he was also like some wannabe music critic, too, with his own column covering live shows in the local music paper. That made him pretty huge at Delacroix but it also frequently made him insufferable. Jace had been flaking on Sarah for a few weeks now. Back after New Year's when they'd been in the honeymoon phase we had all been totally in love with them as a pair. It had started off adorable. Then Jace had kind of gotten on my nerves a bit with the "Stanley Kubrick is a god" stuff that he wouldn't fucking shut up about and he'd written some stuff about Silly Monkey while judiciously avoiding any mention of me which also kind of had him on my personal "no fly" list, but I could write that off as jealousy on both our parts. We weren't warring over Sarah, but we both had major investments in her. She had reciprocal interest in me. She was like a sister and she was often my conscience. Also, I knew I was using this as an excuse to do my Paige thing. With Sarah dating Jace, I didn't have as much time to spend with her. So that free time was available for occasionally meeting up with Paige and telling Tam I was with Sarah. If only we were hanging out more I wouldn't be doing this, I told myself. And if we were hanging out more, Sarah would steer me away from it. So in a way, she's at fault, not me. Anyways, that's how my feelings and thoughts about about it went at the moment. Also, to be perfectly candid about where I was at the time, I felt if I possibly could have a thing I absolutely should have a thing. I had my area of appeal to a special demographic of really cool people and I would be stupid not to enjoy it to the hilt. That I was in love with someone who was in love with me only added to the sweetness. Stolen cookies and all that. Anyway, Jace had Sarah upset and that was unforgivable. I suggested we drive over to his house rip him a new asshole. Ever since the Daniel thing, I'd been extra-fierce to make up for my previous pussydom. Maybe I was overcompensating, but it made me feel less helpless. "All I did was mention our CD," Sarah said. "And he got all... I dunno... He was just like so weird, a-and started criticizing everything about us. He was so mean..." "What'd he say about me?" I asked. It's not that I was self-conscious about my bass playing. I knew I sucked, and that Lena covered up a lot of my mistakes. I just wanted another reason to get pissed. "You know..." Sarah said, then stopped. That was kind of dumb of Sarah. She didn't want to hurt my feelings by actually telling me what he said, so I knew it was pretty eviscerating. For all his faults, Jace knew a lot of shit about movies and music, and, like me, he had a sharp tongue. Maybe sharper. "Okay, don't tell me. See if I care," I said. "God, I hate that fucker. He's so pretentious. Every time we go to his house, he's like, 'Check out this DVD. You probably haven't heard of the director, but blah blah blah.' And then, we'd have to listen to this big speech about why some fucked-up movie is so great and we're stupid assholes for not knowing about it. And that stupid ass thing he writes. The last thing I fucking want to hear is his stupid opinion about our music." Sarah whimpered, so Michelle put an arm around her trembling shoulders and gave me a look to say, "Wrong move, Amy." Yeah, criticizing a friend's loved one was a faux pas, even after a break-up (unless she did first, and then you were only supposed to agree, not add a whole lot of other crap), which is what this turned out to be. At the end of his anti-Silly Monkey rant, Jace told sweet, sensitive, helpless Sarah he didn't want to date her anymore. "And we were supposed to go to the prom together," Sarah said, sniffling. "Screw that," I said. The prom would be nothing but disco balls and crepe paper. Girls badmouthing each other behind their backs. "You're better off not going." "But...he was going to get this baby-blue tux his uncle wore to his prom," Sarah said. "You know, back in the Seventies? With flared pants? A-and platform shoes. And I was gonna wear..." "Hey, Ayumi!" Sparks called. "Why don't you dykes go to like a group therapy session?" I took a deep breath and streaked over to the vert and pounded up the steps and the next thing I knew, both Michelle and Sarah were pulling me off Sparks, who was doing some blubbering of his own. I didn't do any real damage, although I did pop him one in then nose with one of my little fists. Mostly, I just scared the shit out of him with my ferocity. Sparks picked himself up while I struggled with my friends, then he wiped his sore nose and made some crude comment about how if I really wanted him that badly I didn't have to rape him, all I had to do was ask. I launched a heavy-skated kick at his groin, but Michelle held me fast, and I missed. The message got through, and Sparks took off. It was weeks before he dared show his face at the skatepark again. "You need to do something about that temper," Michelle told me for about the thousandth time. "Little asshole. I'm sick of his shit," I replied. This time, I threw an arm around Sarah. "No one fucks with Sarah while I'm around. No one!" "I mean, you need to increase it," Michelle said. "You didn't even make his nose bleed." Sarah managed a weak grin and told me she didn't want me fighting anyone, especially not for her. But she added she really appreciated it. "Any time," I told her. Suddenly, she lit up and got Sarah-spastic. Total mood change. She tried a couple of times to tell us she'd suddenly remembered a stupid Amy incident from our sophomore year at Delacroix High. I'd said, or done, something that just now reminded her. She made this one sudden movement that sent my blades out from under me, and I sat down pretty hard on the asphalt. I made kind of a whoofing sound and was lucky I didn't bite my tongue. "Oh god!" Sarah said. "I'm so sorry!" "Calm down," Michelle told her. "And breathe! You're scaring me!" Sarah's freckly-pale face had turned a bright pink, and her eyelashes were still matted from tears, but she smiled as she struggled to explain. She got all out of breath, but the gist was I'd promised something to her when some loser guy she really, really liked dumped on her and made her feel like an outcast freak. "What?" I asked, still wiping grit off my jeans. I practically begged her to tell us, because I couldn't remember anything about it, even the guy, but as she told the whole story in a roundabout way that didn't make much sense, I felt this growing horror. The stupid things you promise your friends when they're upset. Then you go on with your life and forget what you said, but they never do. "Remember that time- that time back in junior high you wore the bunny suit?" Sarah said, suddenly. "Noo..." I said, doubtfully. A lie, of course. It was becoming increasingly clear I had to get her away from Michelle, or things could get very ugly for me. "What bunny suit?" Michelle asked, with a wide grin. Her brilliantly white teeth gleamed in the sun and her cheeks devoured her eyes. "Like a Playboy bunny suit?" "No, a fuzzy bunny suit," Sarah explained. It was too late to come up with an excuse to split them up. Sarah launched into the whole, painful story about how I helped ruin her mom's old business by cursing on radio during a live remote. And I'd been wearing this godawful, embarrassing, baby blue bunny suit. And for a whole year afterwards, people who didn't like me called me Amy Bunny. A lot of people called me that. Michelle and Sarah got the giggles. They went on and on about it, and Michelle asked if Sarah had any photos. The whole time, I pretended I had a rock stuck in my blades and knelt to dig it out so Michelle wouldn't see my face turn about ten shades of red. My body temperature rose, and I could almost feel the sweat turning to water vapor on my cheeks. "Dammit, Sarah," I said when I couldn't take it anymore. "Get to the point! What does that have to do with something I told you two years ago?" "You, wearing a costume! That's what I remembered when you said that about how no one fucks with me when you're around. When that guy made me cry, you told me... you told me we'd show him one day, that you'd be my date to the senior prom, and you'd wear a tuxedo!" "That's crazy talk! I never said that!" "You did! And then we talked about how you wore that bunny suit to help me and my mom out, and that's when you said no one fucks with me!" Chapter Two: I'll Be Your Whatever You Want Trapped again by my own stupid, big mouth. You have to understand that even though I wasn't attracted to Sarah (I did think she was beautiful, though), I was completely in love with her in a platonic, best friend way. I mean, I loved her as much as I loved my actual girlfriend Tamara, only there wasn't anything sexual about it. She just made me happy, and I tried to protect her. Plus, she'd been the first friend I'd made when I started back to school as a little girl, and felt alone in a crowd. Almost all my Amy memories included Sarah in some way. It was like that with the bunny suit. Ordinarily, if someone had tried to even suggest I wear something like that, I'd have jumped his or her ass. Unless that person happened to be a lot bigger than I was, or a sicko like Daniel. But since it was for Sarah, I was helpless. Only one other person had that kind of power over me, even worse: my sister, Emily. I did stupid stuff for her I'd never even have done for Sarah, or Tamara. Not sex stuff, sister stuff. When she lived with her mother and me, almost once a month, she'd come home with a crazy light in her eyes, and a silly costume under her arm. I'd have to pose for her to pay for my rides down to the skatepark. But that was just a lie I told myself. I really did it out of love, to help her art, because it was fun in a way I didn't understand. And it's not like she always made the girl in the painting look like me. Sometimes she ended up looking totally unlike me and I'd just been a stand in for lighting and shape or form. Emily had never been one for photographic realism, anyway. Still, I lived in constant fear someone would see some of the really embarrassing portraits where they would know instantly they were looking at Amy Komori dressed like Heidi or Pippi Longstocking or Princess Leia or some crazy shit. Even though I was always fully clothed, they were worse than the naked painting my friend Dallas did of me the year before. Much worse. So, yeah, I'd put my neck in the noose again for Sarah, only this time, the noose was a bowtie. Michelle grinned at me the whole way as I drove us back to my house. I wasn't sure if I wanted to kiss her, hit her, or both. She was fucking lucky I had to concentrate on driving. "Why are you staring at me like that?" I asked her in my most annoyed voice. "I so cannot wait to see you all dressed up," she said. Damn, she was actually excited by the prospect. All moon-eyed and grinning. "In a tuxedo, dude." I took a long puff on my Camel and blew the smoke in her face. "Dude, I didn't tell her I was going to do it." "Oh, come on. This is Sarah we're talking about. Of course you're going to do it. You live for this shit." "Okay, so maybe I do. That doesn't mean I want it to be a freakshow or anything. Fuck! Why can't I learn to keep my mouth shut?" "Because you're Amy. The Queen of the Show Offs. Oh shit, remember when Dall dressed up like a boy? Now it's your turn. And you'll be more successful at it because look at you. People think you're a boy half the time anyways." We both remembered the time Dall put a sock down her pants at my request and we retold the whole thing with Michelle driving although she could barely see over the steering wheel (when I added that detail she got kind of mad for a moment and the laughter stopped until we were both laughing about how angry she was at me; she also denied it). It was sort of funny, anyways. A cosmic joke played on me that I couldn't share with anyone. I mean, when I first changed into a girl, I wore my male clothes until they fell apart, literally. Only Emily had been able to get me into girls' clothes. And now, like five years later, I had mixed emotions about wearing guys' clothes. Yeah, it titillated me a little bit, partially because I knew Gina was kind of into it in some way none of us could figure out (no one had really talked to her about it, either, other than a couple of quips or whatever here and there) and also because Michelle was right about one thing-- I loved to be the center of attention. Among friends. Not with the public at large. And that's why it also terrified me. Of course I liked when other girls liked me. I wasn't like mega-sexual, but I wanted to be attractive to the people I felt attraction to. Specific people. You know, Tam and Paige. I didn't like it when boys started their shit. It's not even that I hated boys (although I kind of did). It's just they didn't figure into it all. They weren't even the least little part of why I did anything. They weren't much of a part why my friends did anything, either. Michelle skated despite boys, not because of them. We formed Silly Monkey to play music with each other, not because it would impress any boys. Boys always thought everything was about them. Even if they weren't included, they thought they were being excluded. They weren't. Somehow, for people like Sparks, my being into girls had to do with rejecting boys. Either I hadn't found the right one (him), or else I was too ugly to get a guy, so I chased after girls. And that wasn't it, either. Even well-meaning people would be like, "But you're so cute! You could have any guy you like!" No thanks. When I first changed I wasn't sure who I'd like or even if I would like anyone. Then I realized I was into girls, but it wasn't the same as before. Then my big fear was no girl would be into me. I hadn't considered myself particularly cute at first, although now it was dawning on me I actually wasn't too bad. Not like Sarah, though, who was all softness and curves. Or Gina who was like mega athletic looking even though she hated sports. I barely had boobs, I barely had hips. I did like my hair and my eyes, I was kind of into my skin which turned out to be really soft and shiny and kind of doll-like in a tanned sort of way... and being able to do a flat spin and a crab walk and shit like that was totally fucking rad. Like I said, I'd become awakened to the fact some people did like me a lot. A lot more than I did, and there were those who said I liked myself way too much. Okay, a lot of the people into me were creepy boys with Asian chick fetishes. Those were incredibly common among the scenesters we hung out with. And finding out you were kind of a tomboy who was into girls did little to dissuade them. In fact, it tended to egg them on. They made up a percentage of Silly Monkey fans and usually they said things that would give their interest away after about two sentences of a conversation after which I would quickly make myself scarce. But also- excitingly- there were lots of girls who just liked me their own reasons. Some of which were probably creepy as hell, too, but it just wasn't as noticeable this way. Dallas, Paige Campion, Janice. Fuck, even Tam, who was gorgeous beyond comprehension. I was pretty sure there weren't any girls crushing on me at Delacroix High (they all had boners for Sarah), there were almost always one or two at our shows and I was becoming accomplished at making eye contact and having little silent conversations with them while I hammered away on my bass. This didn't happen a lot, either, but if Tam wasn't at the show (she almost always was) for whatever reason, I soon learned I could easily end up kissing someone, too. It was kind of hard to get away with that with Sarah and the rest around but it was possible at some of the venues. One place had a patio where not a lot of people went and one time when everyone else was engaged in yakking it up in the after show glow this one girl and I swapped spit out there. I actually gave her my number but she never called me. I didn't know she wasn't going to at the time and we creatively slipped back into the conversation after we were finished and I was glad not to be wearing lip gloss or anything that would smear. My heart was zipping along and it took me a while to calm down but everyone just chalked it up to Amyness. So definitely I wanted the occasional person to be into me, yeah, but I didn't want shitloads of gawkers using my increasingly active sex life for wank material. Anyway, people were going to talk. There wasn't so much you could do about that, really. I was going to do this and that was just the way it was going to be. But what happened that night was my mom invited Michelle to stay for dinner and we did homework together and listened to the Amelie soundtrack for a while then I drove her home. The whole time I was thinking all this over. What I was thinking was it was all actually pretty cool. So I would be tuxedo girl for Sarah. Chapter Three: The Bong in This Reggae Song The most important thing about being Tuxedo Girl of Delacroix High was getting the actual tuxedo. Sarah, Gina, Tamara, Michelle and I scoured downtown. We hoped to find one that was completely freaky, maybe lime green or burgundy, of Seventies vintage, too. We struck out at Goodwill and Moldy Oldies, though. They had zero. No funky ones, no regular ones. They had some sport coats for kids that fit but while those were fun to try on for a while, they weren't getting us any closer to prom. Finally, we had to break down and go to an actual tux shop for a more modern tuxedo. Sarah freaked out and knocked over a mannequin at the second place we went to (the first store kicked us the hell out as soon as we told them what we wanted). Why? Because she spied the perfect baby blue ensemble. Which they had in several sizes. The dude behind the counter thought it was hilarious, especially after we made this big point of our not being lesbians. "At least not for each other," I added. The guy looked at me like I was sporting a second mouth on my forehead that gave an incredibly accurate weather report every seventeen minutes or something. I figured out he couldn't have cared less who was fucking whom, but he was genuinely sympathetic about Sarah's story. I whispered to Gina she should ask him out. "Fuck no," she whispered back. "Check out Pop's spare tire." Okay, he was a middle aged guy with no hair and a massive gut, but he was friendly and helpful. He wasn't too touchy-feely during the measuring process (I was nervous about that, but it went by quickly) and soon had us written up for the whole deal: jacket, shirt, cummerbund, trousers, tie. I turned down the flimsy shoes. I planned just to wear sneakers, the better to dance in. So I tried on the tux in the privacy of a changing room. I might have expected to see old guy me in the mirror, but no, I was still Amy. The tuxedo looked ridiculous on me, but at least it sort of fit. The really fucked up thing, though, was there was no mistaking my femaleness, even under the jacket and ruffled shirt, even if I essentially had nothing on my chest to make either of them poke out there. They kind of held me in. And yet, if anything, I looked more like a girl, at least from the neck up. I don't know. Under usual circumstances people did sometimes mistake me for a boy. A boy with startlingly large black eyes. But somehow those eyes and lips were really conflicting with the tuxedo. The male attire just kind of contrasted with my Amy face and skin. Oh, and the butterfly hair clip I was sporting. I briefly wondered if I should like paint on a mustache or maybe stuff my pants with a rolled-up sock or something when the big night came, the way Dall had that time. I could fake like I had a 12-inch shlong. I started to think I was all cool, but then it was time to take a deep breath, swallow my pride, and show off for my girls. I burst from the changing room and did a quick fashion walk for everyone. Sarah was too blissed out to say anything, but Gina was her usual smart-assed self, hence our being friends. "How 'bout a top hat?" Gina suggested. "How 'bout a cane up your ass?" I responded. "Ah, touche!" Gina said. With my attire settled, we had to get approval from the prom committee. Luckily, with the help of my LGBT club and a news story about how a couple of gay guys in Cali had recently sued their school board so they could be a same-sex couple, we skated on through the process in the main office in practically seconds and got our tickets. On our way out we ran into Ms. Green with her hair all curly. It always was. I decided to try to impress her for teenagey reasons of my own. "We're going to the prom together," I told her proudly and showed her our tickets while Sarah blushed. "Oh, that's nice," Ms. Green said. "Have a wonderful time." Then she padded up the short hallway to her office. And that was it. Some impressing that had been. I felt majorly disappointed, and obviously from the way my mouth gaped Sarah picked up on it. "I guess she has more important things to worry about," Sarah said, trying to comfort me in her usual clumsily endearing way. If Gina had said that it would have been my cue to fire back. But Sarah didn't mean for it to sound as backhanded as it actually did. So I just nodded and said, "Yeah, I guess so. But I'm her favorite student." "You are not." Well, that was a rare shot of blunt honesty from Sarah. I just kind of looked at her in amazement. But then she was smiling about something else. "We got our tickets!" she squeaked, her face bright pink, her freckles on fire. "Amy!" Ms. Green suddenly shouted from her office. "Do you have a minute?" I gave Sarah a "See?" look that was all exaggerated. She laughed. It turned out Ms. Green just wanted to do my graduation check. It turned out if I passed my classes-which wasn't really going to be much of a problem-I would score my diploma. I would still be a year younger than all my friends but I'd be finished with high school yet again. Forever. I hoped. I seriously hoped there weren't any other magical fuck ups out there waiting for me. I was pretty sure there wouldn't be, but I'd never expected to become a girl, either. The main thing was, I barely had to make Ds and I'd still escape Delacroix. "We were worried for a little while there, weren't we, Amy?" Ms. Green said as she beamed at me from across her desk and my official files. I wasn't sure what to say. I was kind of drinking in the accomplishment. I managed to nod. My heart started pounding the same way it had when that girl and I had come back from our secret make out session not so long before. I wanted to shriek with joy. It was all hitting me at once. For all intents and purposes, I'd done it. Mom's plan had worked. Before I could do anything about it and right in front of Ms. Green, tears rolled down my cheeks, but I was smiling. "Tissue?" Ms. Green offered, and I took one. I could barely speak for the longest time. Ms. Green had to tell me to calm down. I felt really embarrassed and Sarah-like. I mean, getting this worked up over academic achievement. But it had been such a long, fucked up road, one that only Mom, Emily and I would ever really know about. So it was more than just finding out I was going to graduate with my friends. It was like this validation of Amy Komori. I took the tissue and wiped my eyes and laughed and cried and Ms. Green looked at me like I was crazy, but with a lot of grown up style empathy. She couldn't help but smile, too. Then she said, "You know, I never went to my senior prom." At that I had to escape so I blew my nose and thanked her and tossed the soggy tissues into the trash. "What was that about?" Sarah asked me when I came out. She'd waited all that time, holding our prom tickets. "My grad check." "And?" "I made it. I just have to pass my classes and I'm a free man." Sarah almost crushed me to death right there in the office with this massive hug. That was when I realized Sarah was a lot physically stronger than any of us had guessed! By now, Sarah thought I was Queen of the World. And Ms. Green's nonchalance notwithstanding, I was starting to believe it myself, which wasn't too difficult since I was generally half-convinced of that every day, anyways. It was then I received my second prom invitation, this one from Willis Wallace, the black geek with the crush on me. He'd been blossoming a lot that year, so I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise when he approached me at my locker while I was getting my books. Sarah was waiting out by my car and I was going to drive us over to her house to show her mom our tickets. Blossoming or not, there's no way Willis would have dared do this if Sarah had been there. Too scary. "What's up, Thrillis?" I asked him. Once again, he'd just been standing there, breathing his hot breath on my arm without speaking. "Amy, I know your interests... differ," Willis said, in a strained voice. "What do you mean by 'interests?'" I asked, one eye shut. "Please. Um... and I know you think of me only as a friend. Also, I'm not one who stands on such childish traditions, but if you're not go-" "Willis, I'd love to go to the prom with you, but I already have a date." "You... have a date?" "Yeah." "I-I don't know what I'm more surprised by, the fact that you have a date for the prom, or that you're even going." "It's with a chick, if that makes you feel any better." "Not really. Who, if I might ask?" "Just Sarah. Her boyfriend dumped her, so I'm going to be her date. Just as friends, okay? She's not a lesbian or anything. The big thing is, I'm going to wear a tuxedo. And it's fucking bad ass." Willis didn't look particularly shocked, which mildly annoyed me in a confusing way. His shoulders had slumped when I first turned him down, but while he listened to me explain about Sarah, he brightened a bit. I felt a little nostalgic for the days when crushing him made me feel all powerful, like Madonna. I still felt sorry for him, though. Poor Willis. Even if I liked guys, I'd never have been interested in him, anyways. But if I had to accept a date from someone other than a girl, he'd be a safe pick, and I'd be able to boss him around. I kept that in mind if I ever needed to be seen with a guy. "Oh yeah," I said. "One more thing. Don't tell anyone about this, okay? We're trying not to make it some big deal." "I've said this before, Amy. Who would I tell?" "That's not fair. Don't be so down on yourself. You have lots of friends." Willis shrugged. That irked me. "Fucker. Don't be shrugging your shoulders at me. I see you hanging out with people!" I snapped. He smiled, then backed away from me pointing his fingers like pistols. I'd been played. That's exactly the reaction he'd wanted. Like I said, he'd been blossoming. Chapter Four: In the Shade Prom night, Emily helped me get ready. I had this weird urge from nowhere to wear guy's underwear underneath my tux, but instead, I pulled on these pink cotton panties with "Princess" printed on them, over a yellow crown. Not deliberately; they were just in reach. They weren't a pair I wore very often for obvious reasons, and I had them because they came in a set with two others I actually did like. But they were going to be under the tux this particular night. Oh yeah, and a bra, which I rarely wore anyways, and was very uncomfortable. "You don't want to strap 'em down?" Emily asked, being a clown. "Um, not that you have a whole lot to--" "Shut up," I told her. I put on the shirt, then slipped into the trousers. Okay, so I was a guy again for one night, even though I made up my face like I usually did when I was going out. I didn't even take out any of my earrings. Wearing the tux felt a lot different than it did at the shop, though. Maybe because now my intent was different, or because about a thousand people were going to see a very fleeting glimpse of a side of me I thought was completely dead. "So," Emily said, "Do you feel anything like a boy?" "No, I feel like a dumbass." "Just wondering..." "Well, don't." I was a little nervous Emily was going to say the M-word, my old name. She might even want to talk to him, but what could I say? Martin's not at home. He hadn't been in a long time, although he neglected to fill out a change of address form and his mail still came to me. Emily kind of looked at me funny (something had been up with her for a while), then took me around the shoulders and led me down the hall to the kitchen, where Mom stood, camera in hand. She pinned a carnation on my lapel, and Emily brought me the corsage I'd bought for Sarah. Then I posed for some photos in front of the refrigerator. "Jeez," Emily said in mock despair. "I didn't even go to my senior prom." "I seem to recall you and some friends went out of town for a concert," Mom said. She didn't get Emily's little attempt at irony. I had to wave to our next door neighbors as I drove up the alley. I don't even know if they noticed what I was wearing or not, but I felt like I was driving Wonder Woman's Invisible Jet on a taxi run up to the street. At Sarah's, Mrs. McAvoy snapped about a million photos of us. The Divine Miss S herself looked incredibly delicious. She had on this shoulderless silvery satin gown that showed some cleavage, and kind of billowed out from her waist. It was actually her mom's prom gown from her high school days, which Sarah's grandmother had kept for sentimental reasons. The McAvoys were weird. I wondered if they'd kept the bunny suit from all those years before. But, no, I suddenly remembered it was rented like my tux. I put the corsage on Sarah's wrist, and felt like an idiot. She blushed madly and didn't say anything. At least Gina would've been good for a wisecrack, which would've put me more at ease. "Have fun, girls!" Mrs. McAvoy called. It was already getting dark, and the pines cast dark shadows over all of us. Including the gawkers in the next yard. "That little Japanese girl's dressed like a boy," I distinctly heard someone say. I smiled and waved like a princess. Then I informed them: "I'm not a Japanese girl. I'm a Japanese boy with long hair." Chapter Five: Koo Koo The prom itself was a blast. A few of the super Christian kids got a little bristly about my attire. One couple actually left. Which cracked me up. It's not like Sarah and I were out to prove anything, or convert people to homosexuality. We were just trying to have fun, and I was just trying to make a friend feel better. And it's not like we kissed or slow danced or anything. Actually, I would've slow danced, but Sarah felt awkward. Not because she was with me, but because despite her bold singing performances, she was painfully shy. She didn't do attention well. And we were certainly getting attention. Most of the students were totally cool about Sarah and me. Even some of the jocks made friendly little cracks I answered back. I didn't put on a big show, but I thought about grabbing my crotch. Visions of Roseanne singing the National Anthem prevented that. Oh, and the fact that there were teacher chaperones all around. Taking a piss was a pain in the ass, but it would've been if I'd been dressed up like Sarah, too. My trousers weren't the problem. I mean, I wore pants most of the time anyways. The main problem was, I had to be extra careful and not let the jacket touch the toilet, and take care with the zipper because the tux itself was pretty shitty. Poorly made for something that was supposed to make a groom or groomsman look like a country club millionaire on the big day. "Do you have to ruin everything, Komugly?" one my long-time detractors Ashleigh Bodine asked the one time we found ourselves in the bathroom together. She still had a lot of resentment stemming from the fact I existed. Things had loosened up a lot but there were still a few people around who resented my having joined and then quit the junior varsity cheerleaders a couple of years before. That shit was ancient history for me, but for some it was still ongoing. "Yes," I replied. "Yes, I do. It's my special gift. Sort of like giving head is yours." Ashleigh Bodine flipped me a bird, and I batted my lashes like a debutante, Little Miss Sweetness. She and her friends stormed out, and I got a glow when one of the girls at the sinks muttered, "Bitches." Things had certainly changed for the better. I found Sarah talking to some girls I barely knew. When I got up close, their conversation turned out to be about college in the fall. Sarah and I had already been accepted by our big, hometown university. One of the girls was going off to Notre Dame. Before I could ask a manly question about Knute Rockne, the DJ started spinning some 80s songs. "Hungry Like the Wolf" blasted over the sound system. When I was a guy, I had hated, hated, hated Duran Duran. My friends and I disparaged them as "Double Duran." Now, my girly heart started beating faster, and I felt all adrenalized. Maybe it was a gender-difference thing. Maybe I was just a better person in some ways. Who knows? "Come on, Sarah," I said. "You owe me one dance." "I don't want to," she protested, a silly grin on her face. "Nope. Not gonna work, missy. I wear the pants in this relationship!" I told her, and dragged her onto the floor. We didn't really dance with each other. Since there were just about all girls on the floor, we pushed our way to the middle, and started getting our groove on surrounded by squealing females. Chicks love retro, I thought to myself, and made a mental note to talk to Lena about adding some kind of camped-up punk cover of something 80s to our shows. Gina would hate the idea, but if I bitched enough, they'd all give in. And maybe, just maybe, the 80s dance sounds of early MTV-era schlock would put Tamara front and center while we played and I'd get to eyeball her stretched, slender form as she worked her ass. After that, Sarah and I really started having fun. The DJ kept up the beats, so we stayed out there, rocking and swaying and shaking it with the other girls, and an Odd Boy or two. A couple started making out and got sent off, but the rest of us stayed out there until we were shiny with perspiration, exhausted and breathing hard. Not long after that, Ashleigh Bodine and her date won "Best Couple," despite a "Sarah-Amy" chant someone started in the back of the crowd. Up on the stage, Ashleigh Bodine's smile fell like a ruined wedding cake. Chapter Six: On the Last Splash Sarah and I split for Gina's and hung out for a while by the pool. It was warm out, so I slipped off the jacket and the bowtie and untucked my shirt. I unbuttoned the bottom few buttons and let my little inny navel breath as I stretched out on one of the lounge chairs. With the ruffles and all, I kind of looked girly. Gina looked over at me and started softly singing, "I'm comin' out, I want the world to see--" When I asked her what she was singing about, she pointed at my exposed belly. That creeped out poor Sarah, who found those Levi's low-rider singing belly-button commercials terrifying to the point of having nightmares about them. I started to say something, thought better of it, and Gina pestered me until I admitted I had a couple of pairs of crotch- dusters of my own. They weren't Levi's, though, and they were a lot lower. If I'd wanted, I could've let my ass-crack sing that song. "Why?" Gina asked. "You trendy little fashionista, you!" "I just like 'em, is all," I said, lamely. I couldn't admit that Tamara picked them out for me, and that they were sort of her fantasy. I planned to mostly stick to my baggy skater stuff, though. When I didn't fight back, Gina changed the subject. Good girl. "Damn, I wish I could've been there," Gina said. "Was Traci really pissed?" "I guess," I said. I flicked my lighter and let the flame dazzle my eyes for a moment, then lit my first smoke of the night. Tamara and Lena showed up pretty soon after that. They'd been at some early show, an all-ages thing. Lena was forever circulating, forever networking with other musicians. She was a real musician herself, after all. Plus there was the simple fact she was really into music to the Nth degree. Then Michelle and Dallas, who hadn't been at the prom. Their reason for not going was they hated stuff like that even more than they liked when I did crazy stuff like wear a tuxedo, but I didn't hold it against them. Tamara and Michelle both needled me until I fixed myself up in my whole outfit again. There I was, on display, like I'd popped out of one of Emily's paintings of me. "I think you look like a little gay guy," Gina cracked. "I think she looks cute," Lena said softly. "I can't stand this fucking tie anymore!" I shouted, undid it and tossed it on the chair. I got kind of carried away, and ended up taking off my shirt. Gina dared me to take off my pants, so I did. I never could refuse one of her dares. After that, our little get-together turned into a skinny-dipping party, a bunch of squealing, giggling, completely naked girls. Doused cigarettes floated on the water's surface. Gina finally dripped into her house and brought us out a bunch of beach towels. We had a tug-of-war over this big Budweiser one but thanks to her and Michelle, I ended up with this stupid towel with Donald and Daisy Duck doing some beach scene together. We huddled up on the chairs next to the pool. Dark shapes and footprints from where we'd dripped, our clothes in the grass. Tam and I sat together on this lounger. "I can't believe the year's almost over," Sarah said. "School is almost over!" Even in the dim light I could see she looked sad. She was really mournful about it. And I did, too. It made my stomach hurt a little. When I'd been a guy we'd all talked about do-overs, starting over with all our current knowledge. On the other end of just such an event, changed so much I was like a new person who had never existed before, I couldn't see the attraction. Usually. At the moment I kind of could see it very clearly. It looked like Sarah. It looked like Gina. It looked like Michelle and Dallas and Lena. And Tamara. It looked like love. Sarah looked at me. "Remember when we first met?" I remembered. Delacroix Junior High. I'd still been under the illusion I was a guy then. Or was it a delusion? Was it possible I'd never really been a guy in the first place? Whatever, the story was friendless me meets friendless her. She had saved my life. I would be forever in her debt and eternally grateful. I would always feel unworthy of her in a lot of ways. I loved her so much it hurt. I wanted to be her. "I met you," I said. A little smile. "You didn't meet me. Too shy." Sarah blushed and smiled, too, and looked down at her towel. "I remember meeting you guys at the beach," Gina said. "I thought Amy was a boy. I thought they were like dating or something." "My mom would not let me date," Sarah said suddenly. "Not back then." "I did not know that," I told her. It surprised me. I thought I knew just about everything there was to know about Sarah McAvoy. "Yeah!" Sarah looked a little surprised herself. "She said I could when I was 16." "My mom's never said do or don't date," I told everyone. "You're mom's never told you don't do anything," Gina said and snickered. "Not true. She told me not to trust you." "My mom doesn't give a shit one way or the other," Michelle said. "My dad, on the other hand, is a complete asshole about it." "Your mom is cool," Dall said. "She is not." Dall shrugged. End of that argument. "Amy's mom is the coolest," Sarah said. "She has to be," Gina said. "Imagine putting up with all Amy's shit." I sank into my towel. "Shut up." Tam put her hand on my shoulder and at first I thought it was to calm me down and stop me from getting into a fight with Gina (and I wasn't all that angry) but when I looked at her she flicked her eyes over towards this really dark place near the fence, shadowed into blackness by overhanging trees. It beckoned and we made our way over there. You could kind of feel everyone fluttering about it. We merged into the dark and made out for a while. Back around the pool the conversation went on as everyone ignored us. "I fucking want you," Tam whispered. "Me, too," I told her. It was true, but I wanted everybody. "You in that tuxedo," she said, her voice kind of happy but strange. Her face was just a grayish blur in the dark but I could tell from the curve of her cheeks she was smiling. But we confined our activities to just kissing. And I came down with a cold two days later.