Seasons of Bailey: Spring - Part 1

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Part 1

Darkness greeted me, as my eyelids unfurled like curtains on a stage. My body felt like a feather floating in the breeze. Curled up beneath layers of blankets, I felt safe. As my eyes began to adjust to my surroundings, a flash of lightning lit up the room. Rain pattered against the window pain.

Thunder rumbled, making my body stir. I pushed the blankets off of me. The scent of the material was unfamiliar, but pleasant. As I uncurled my body, I realized the room seemed just as unfamiliar. After a lingering, but satisfying, stretch, I slid my body around and sat on the edge of the bed. Lightning lit the strange room once more.

"Where am I?" I asked quietly to the still, dark room.

I pushed myself up from the bed. My body revolted, wanting to stay curled up in that warm place I had retreated from. Instinctively my hands went to my eyes, attempting to rub the sleep out of them. I turned my head, and saw a beam of light creeping in from underneath a door. Determined now, I forced myself away from the nice safe bed, and tiptoed across the room.

"No… Yeah, he's still here."

Nearly leaping from the floor, my body twitched and convulsed at the woman's voice. I froze at the doorway. My hand had made it halfway to the handle. Breathing came in ragged waves as my chest heaved. Everything seemed completely unfamiliar to me, and my head started to spin.

"I agree," the woman's voice continued. "No, I don't think it's going to let up anytime soon." A long pause followed before she spoke again. "Absolutely. He can stay here tonight."

The more I listened to her voice, the more familiar it seemed to me. I tried to recount the events of my day, but could hardly remember anything. Worst of all, I had no idea how long I had been asleep. It could have been days for all I knew. I reached for the door handle, and twisted it.

"At least it's not locked," I mumbled quietly, while smiling to myself.

Light poured into my eyes as if I were staring into the sun. Temporarily blinded, it added more to my confused state. My hand flew to my forehead, shielding my eyes. I barely made it from the room before I heard the woman end her conversation. She stood down the hallway from me, and I managed to make out a cordless phone in her hand.

"Oh, you're awake! I didn't wake you did I?"

My eyes adjusted on her face. "Misses Riley?"

"You gave Nathan quite a scare," she said, walking toward me. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I…" My eyes roamed around the empty hallway walls. "I'm fine… Just tired…"

Suddenly Mrs. Riley was in front of me. Her hands were on my shoulders, and she leaned over me, looking me in the eyes.

"Did you fall?" she asked. "Does anything hurt?"

I leaned away from her. My head shook slowly. "I… Did something happen?"

"You don't remember?" asked another voice, which seemed to project throughout the entire hallway.

"Nathan." It was hard to hide the affection in my voice as I spoke his name. "What's going on?"

Nathan's mother stepped aside, resting against the wall. "He seems fine, if not groggy," she said.

"Why am I here?" I asked.

"You really don't remember anything?" Nathan asked, his face now frighteningly solemn.

I felt my head shaking once more. My wavy locks of blonde hair bounced against my cheeks.

"Well…" Nathan stepped closer. "You came over this morning to go on our usual jog…" He lingered on the last word, as if hoping it would jog my memory somehow. When it failed, he proceeded to talk again. "I had to run up here to get my hat. When I came back down… you were passed out on the floor."

"Why don't I remember any of that?" I asked to nobody in particular.

"Did you hit your head?" Mrs. Riley asked, stepping back over me. She proceeded to check the back of my head. "Does your head hurt?"

"No," I said, looking at Nathan puzzled. "Nothing hurts. Really."

"Mom…" Nathan said, tugging his mother's elbow away. "He said he's fine."

"Well I'm just wanting to make sure," she said, backing away. "If one of you kids gets injured over here, it's my responsibility."

"I don't think he's injured," Nathan said. "I don't even think he fell."

"Then what happened?" I asked, looking back at Nathan.

"Well…" Nathan gave me a half smile. "I think you just zonked out while stretching." He scratched his head nervously. "I tried to wake you up, but you kept saying you were tired, and even rolled away from me."

"So how did I end up in your bed?" I asked, suddenly realizing where I had been sleeping.

"I carried you up here," Nathan said. "Thought you'd be more comfortable."

"Oh…" I said, now feeling the burning sensation of a fevered blush on my cheeks. "Thanks…"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mrs. Riley asked.

"I think so," I said. "How long was I asleep?"

"All day," Nathan said.

"I…" My eyes danced between Nathan and his mother. Then they fell upon my feet. "Where are my shoes?"

"In there," Nathan said, nodding towards his room. "Why?"

"I should probably head home," I said quietly, as I folded my arms across my chest.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Riley said, laughing slightly. "It's absolutely horrendous outside. And besides, I already talked to your mother. She's worried about you, but doesn't want you walking home tonight in a storm."

"Are you hungry?" Nathan asked.

"Not really," I mumbled.

"Are you sure you're getting enough to eat, dear?" Mrs. Riley asked.

"Yes… of course," I said. "I'm just not really hungry."

Mrs. Riley straightened herself. She looked at Nathan, and then took a lingering gander at me. Shrugging her shoulders, she moved back through the hallway. She paused for a moment as she passed Nathan. "You keep an eye on him," she said. "And take it easy tonight."

"We'll be fine," Nathan said.

The moment he had gotten the words out of his mouth, a thunderous boom rang throughout the house. Walls rattled. I caught a glimpse of Nathan. A look of surprise coursed through his face. His mother jumped next to him. Then there was nothing but darkness.

"Well that's not good." Nathan's voice carried through the dark, still house.

"I'll find some candles," his mother said. "Sit tight."

It was Saturday. At least I think it was Saturday. It could've been Sunday morning for all I knew. But Nathan and I had been jogging on Saturday mornings since the start of March. We were barely a week into spring and already the storms were hitting hard. This one, in particular, hit hard enough to knock the power out in our entire neighborhood.

Today's events were slowly coming back to me. Our jogging routine explained my attire, and why I had ended up in Nathan's bed for the second time in less than a year. However, I could not explain why I had completely checked out for an entire day; well into the night for that matter. I suddenly felt a warm body growing closer to me.

"You sure you're okay?" Nathan asked quietly.

"I feel okay," I whispered. "I actually feel rested."

"Do you want some water?"

I scarcely recall answering Nathan's question. In fact, I hardly remember a lot of things that day. Somehow he coaxed me back into his room, with the promise that he'd return. Once again I found myself sitting in Nathan Riley's bed. I'm sure some girls would have died to say that. Some girls would have been straight up jealous of me at that moment. But then…

"I'm not a girl," I whispered to the night.

Minutes passed before I heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Here we go," Nathan said, strolling back into the room cautiously. "I got a few candles too."

As I reached out to take the glass, our hands touched. It felt like it lasted longer than it should have. Nathan moved about the room like a cat. One by one he lit several candles. By the time he finished, his room had turned into a myriad of dancing lights. The entire event reminded me of a scene from a movie; where the debonair male lead readies his love nest in a flash before the woman.

Before I knew it, my inward chuckling had thrust itself out of my mouth. With the glass of water at my lips, the sounds of gurgling water filled the silent room. This was followed shortly by coughing, as I'd managed to inhale a rather significant portion of the water. The glass tipped in my hand as I coughed, and in no time the entire front of my shirt was soaked.

"Damn," Nathan said as he stepped towards me. "If I'd known you wanted a shower…"

"Not… funny…" I said between coughs.

"I'll get you a dry one."

"So this is how it starts," I mumbled to myself.

"How what starts?" Nathan asked, while rummaging through his dresser.

My mind suddenly halted, and I panicked for a way to change gears. "What happened today?"

"You tell me," Nathan said, returning to the bed with a clean t-shirt.

"I seem to have more questions than answers these days," I said, taking the shirt from him. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure," Nathan said, handing me a flashlight. "Don't fall in," he added with a smile.

"With my luck…"

I took the flashlight from him, and headed for the bathroom. Once locked inside, I took a long moment to collect myself. I yanked the wet shirt from my body, and draped it over the door to his shower. That little scene made me feel like a child with a sippy cup in front of Nathan. Nothing ever went right when I was with him. Stepping over to the mirror, I examined myself for several minutes. Nothing looked out of place. I felt okay.

Nathan's shirt felt enormous as it fell over my body. I was used to baggy clothes, but two of me could have fit into his shirt. It came halfway down my thighs, and the short sleeves covered half of my forearms. "Am I really that small?" I thought, now looking in the mirror again. I shook my head, and stepped over to the toilet.

"You okay?" Nathan asked, as I stepped out of the bathroom.

"I got a little lost," I said, handing him the flashlight. "And I might have used something other than a towel to dry my hands."

Nathan chuckled, causing me to smile. Soon we were locked in an awkward stare, smiling like a pair of idiots. A light tapping came from Nathan's door. Our smiles were lost in an instant, and we both shifted nervously away from each other. I reached down to scrunch my sweatpants up under my knees. Nathan's mother pushed the door open and peeked inside.

"Make sure you blow these all out before you fall asleep," she said, gesturing toward the candles. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Goodnight mom," Nathan said.

"Goodnight Misses Riley."

"Night you two. Don't stay up too late," she said, before pulling the door closed.

"Your mother is really nice," I said, as I wormed my way around Nathan.

"She is," Nathan said, moving across his room in the opposite direction. "Unless you get on her bad side."

"I can't imagine she has one."

"Everyone has a bad side," Nathan said.

"Even you?" I asked, now facing him.

Nathan turned to face me. His bed stood between us. I watched as he folded his arms across his chest. For a long moment he looked at me. A worried expression covered his face; not unlike my mother's, or even Justin's, face had been lately. And just as an uncomfortable feeling began to rise in my body, Nathan's voice broke the silence.

"Why are you so sad?"

"I'm not sad," I retorted, feeling the need to force a smile. "What makes you think I'm sad?"

Nathan slowly eased himself onto the bed. His back greeted me. "There are no expectations here, Bailey. No judgment."

"Why are you talking like that?" I asked, turning to walk away from him, but soon found myself pacing. "You sound just like…"

A brief moment of silence passed. "Like…?"

"Rajan," I said quietly.

"Your doctor?"

Lightning flashed outside the window, causing me to jump slightly. The rain gathered in intensity. My breathing came in shallow bursts. Like the storm surging outside, I could feel something surging within myself. Without even being aware of it, I thrust my hands to my sides. They balled up into tight fists.

"Why did he have to leave?" I blurted out. "Everyone is leaving. Nothing is the same anymore…" I unclenched my fists, and plopped down on the bed opposite of Nathan. Our backs now faced each other. "He was the only one I trusted in all of this…"

"You can trust me," Nathan said.

I could feel him turning to face me. My hand rose to my lips, and soon I was breathing through the backs of my fingers. I pushed them up through my wavy blonde hair. It had become increasingly thicker, and I'd let it grow perhaps too much. On a windy day I could feel it tickling the middle of my neck.

"There were… things," I said, dropping my hands to my lap. "Things I could talk about with him. But he had to go away just like everyone else."

"Bailey," Nathan said, his voice now closer. "You're not alone. I'm not going anywhere. Justin cares about you. You still have your mom, and Tom seems to be coming around."

"Tom can't be trusted," I said, nearly whispering. "He lies."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's a snake. It's as simple as that."

"Has he done something to you?" Nathan asked; a note of concern peaking in his voice.

"Maybe," I said. "Possibly. Or I could be going crazy."

I pushed myself up further on the bed, and pulled my legs up. Turning in spot I came face to face with Nathan. He was actually closer to me than I had thought. Almost to the point where we bumped heads. The honest truth was that I didn't know if I could fully trust Nathan, but I was starting to run out of options.

"I found a letter," I blurted out. "On Tom's desk. I don't know what it meant. It could've been saying a hundred different things, but it…"

"Whatever you say," Nathan said, "won't leave this room. I promise."

"It was talking about procedures and surgery," I said. "I don't even know if it was about me, or something else entirely. But it was from the other doctor. The one that worked with Rajan. And he hasn't said anything to me…"

"Hey," Nathan said, taking my hand in his. "Slow down a bit."

I glanced down at our hands entwined. Somehow it stirred up images of Tiffany and I, walking down the halls at school. Someone so close that I trusted, and she had turned on me. I cringed at the thought of it happening again; letting someone get close, just to hurt me in the end. Quickly I shook my hand free from Nathan's.

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"No," Nathan said. "It's my fault. I was just trying to comfort you."

"I know," I said. "I know… I'm just…" A sigh escaped me. "I've been through too much."

"It's my fault," Nathan said. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

"Would you shut up," I said, pushing him away, and pushing myself off of the bed. "Nothing's wrong with you. It's my fault." I began to pace the floor again. "You're great," I said, pointing at him. "You're perfect. It's me…" I stopped pacing, and stared out the window. "I'm the screwed up one," I finished in a whisper.

"You're right," Nathan said, looking over me with furrowed brow.

"What?!" I spun to glare at him.

"Well let's face it," Nathan said. "You've been through too much." He patted the bed in front of him. "You need to let it out, or it will just eat you alive."

With arms folded across my chest, I reluctantly carried myself over to the bed. Nathan held out his hand, and patiently waited. After what seemed like minutes, I forced myself to take his hand. He pulled me gently onto his bed, and then tossed a blanket over my shoulders.

Eventually I stopped fighting with him every step of the way. I embraced the inevitable as he pulled the blanket tightly around my body. With his arms now around me, he pulled me back into his warm body. We moved to lie down as a single entity. I could feel his chest rise and fall against my back. I could feel his warm breath on my hair. I could feel myself relaxing in his arms.

"I don't know what to say," I finally mustered.

"Just say whatever you want," Nathan said, as his hand ran up and down my arm. "I'll listen to it all."

It had been nearly three weeks since that night at Nathan's house. I felt bad about keeping him up until the sun came up, but true to his word, he stayed up and listened to every word I said. It felt good to get my feelings and thoughts out in the open. Even if my suspicions about Tom and Dr. Brooks were completely off base, I was glad to at least share them with someone else. Despite Nathan's suggestion that I might have a problem that requires surgery.

I didn't know what to think of that. It never occurred to me that I might need surgery for my condition. The thought of it frightened me a lot. There were only a few surgeries that I could even think of that would relate to what I was going through. And I tried hard not to think of them now more than ever. I wanted to bring it up, but wasn't sure how I could without revealing I'd been snooping through Tom's personal files. Though Nathan insisted that it was more important to know, I still had my doubts.

Halfway through April already, I had been to see Dr. Brooks several times. He claimed that he wanted to become better acquainted with my situation. However, I feared that he had discovered a problem somewhere along the way, and wanted to keep a closer observation on me. Either way, it was hard to visit him, and see Rajan's empty office. I still couldn't believe he was gone.

I hadn't told Nathan everything though. There were secrets I kept even from him. Secrets I kept from my family. Against my mother's wishes, I had even started to dress a little without telling her. It started the same way it had with Tiffany. I fell into a routine of painting my toenails most days. When I was sure nobody would be around, I even got so bold as to paint my fingernails.

I suppose I can relate all of my problems to that. Because as soon as I began the routine of painting my nails, I started to yearn for more. Soon I had established a secret stash of panties, painstakingly removed from the clothes my mother and I had put away. From there it progressed to tights, jeans, tops and skirts. By the end of March, I was dragging out full outfits to wear around the house.

On an average typical Thursday, in the middle of April, I had decided to drag out yet another of these full outfits. With my nails painted a nice light spring green, I carefully dug through the boxes of clothes. I don't know why I never told my mother. Perhaps I was afraid of being judged, or placed in some category; like a repeat offender. I simply wanted to dress for myself, without the pressure of having anyone else know about it.

So there I stood. My still hairless legs clad in white tights, pulled tightly over a fresh pair of white panties, which I had paired with a simple white padded bra. I never strived to wear anything special. It was simply what came to me, or what I thought would feel comfortable. The weather had dipped, as a cold front had moved through, and tights seemed a logical, comfortable fit. I simply had to decide what to wear with them.

From out of nowhere the telephone rang. Thinking it might be Tom, or my mother, calling to tell me they're on their way home, I rushed to the kitchen. As I made it to the kitchen phone, I realized it wasn't ringing at all. Curiously, I followed the ringing, and ended up outside of Tom's office. The ringing stopped.

"When did Tom get a second line?" I wondered to myself.

Soon an answering machine kicked on. "Tom," said an unassuming, melancholy female voice. "I don't know if you'll get this, but they need you at the warehouse tonight. Something got screwed up with the order forms, and we're getting the shipment early. Get down here as soon as possible." The message cut out with the click of a phone, and a loud beep from the machine.

"Wonder what that was about," I said out loud.

A sharp wrapping on the glass to our back door nearly made me jump out of my skin. I spun around quickly, holding my hand over my heart. As my hand moved over the bra beneath it, I suddenly remembered how I was dressed. A feeling of insecurity and utter horror washed over me. There on the other side of the glass, with a perfect full-window view, stood Nancy; her chubby face full of wonder and cheerfulness.

Next to Nancy stood Carla, with her own look of disbelief stretched across her tan face. Between them both, standing about two feet behind, stood a rather amused, and giggling Jillian. Before I could run screaming, Nancy gestured at the door handle. My hand slowly moved over the exposed parts of my body, in an insane attempt to cover myself. I really couldn't think of anything to say or do, that would remotely change this situation. How had they managed to pick that exact moment to traipse across two yards and end up at my back door?

"Come on, Bailey," Nancy said, seeming somewhat sympathetic now. "Open the door."

"Let us in," Jillian chimed in, now over her giggles. "It's cold."

I looked them over for a moment. Carla and Nancy had on shorts, tank tops, and flip-flops, and stood shivering. While Jillian seemed to be dressed a little warmer, in cargo pants and a polo shirt, she too looked a little cold. Swallowing my pride, along with the lump in my throat, I reached for the lock on the door handle. Soon the familiar whoosh of the sliding glass door greeted me, and the girls pushed inside nearly in a pile.

"Hi Bailey," Nancy said, smiling pleasantly while moving to the side.

Carla smiled at me, and rubbed her upper arms to warm up. "Thanks," she said. "I think I should have worn a sweatshirt."

Jillian pushed through last, and pulled the door shut behind her. Then she quickly pulled the blinds shut. "You're not exactly careful are you?" she asked, gesturing at my attire. "There is such a thing as modesty."

"Well I didn't expect anyone to show up at my back door," I said.

"Still…" Nancy said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "You shouldn't be running around in your underwear in front of windows."

"I was in the middle of getting dressed," I said, before realizing what I was admitting.

"Don't let us stop you," Carla said, offering me a reassuring smile.

"Girls," Jillian interrupted. "Shoes off. It's pretty wet out there."

I watched for a moment as they all kicked off their shoes. Nancy and Carla basically stumbled out of their flip-flops. Jillian had the worst of it, trying to get the wet laces untied on her rather girly hiking boots. Before long she glanced up at me, and gave me an awkward look.

"Seriously," she said, "go put some clothes on."

"Which?" I asked, rattled slightly.

"I don't care what you wear," Jillian said with a chuckle.

"I think what our friend here is trying to say," Nancy said, putting her arm around my shoulders. "Is which gender."

"Oh…" Jillian said, finally pulling her boot off. "It doesn't matter to us, Bailey," she said facing me. "We're not here to force you into anything."

"Whatever's comfortable," Carla chimed in.

"However you feel," Nancy said, pulling me in for a friendly hug. "We just came to hang out with you."

"So you girls are…" I paused, searching for the right words. "We're cool?"

"Of course, silly," Jillian said.

"We kind of suspected," Nancy said. "You're not that good at hiding the obvious."

"But you pick a heck of a way to let the cat out of the bag," Carla said, playfully pinching my exposed abdomen.

"Okay…" I said, slipping away from Nancy. "Make yourselves at home." I moved to the opposite end of the kitchen. "Have a drink if you'd like."

"Actually," Carla said, following me into the hallway. "We were wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place."

"Sure…" I said. "I guess that's okay."

Jillian followed Carla and started looking around the house. "What were you doing anyway?" she asked. "Just walking around like that."

"The phone rang in my stepfather's office," I called back to her.

"Speaking of phones," Jillian said, now extremely close behind me. "Did you lose my number?"

I spun around to find her a foot away. "I'm sorry I never called," I said. "I've been having a bit of a rough time."

"Are you sure it wasn't that you were too busy dressing like a girl?" she asked, reaching out and adjusting one of my bra straps. "I bet you get carried away with it, and lose all track of time."

"I…" Slowly I backed into my room.

Jillian followed. "I? What is it Bailey?"

"The thing with Tiffany," I stammered.

"Yeah?" Jillian placed her hand on my chest, and gently pushed me into the room. "Do you miss her?" Her other hand reached back to shut my door.

"Honestly?"

Jillian nodded, while backing away to lean against the door.

"Sometimes I do," I said. "But at times I wonder why we were even together."

"Get dressed while we talk," Jillian said, motioning at my closet. "You two didn't get along?"

"We got along great," I said, kneeling in front of the boxes of clothes. "I just think she started liking the idea of me being a girl over what we actually had."

"Which was what?" Jillian asked. "Holding hands and kissing?"

I paused my rummaging through the boxes. "Well when you put it like that," I said, chuckling. "I guess we really didn't have some deep tragic love story."

"It still hurts," Jillian said, pausing thoughtfully for a moment. "Go with the shorts."

I found myself taking her advice, and standing up with a pair of jean shorts. Slowly I stepped into them, and slid them up the white tights. I had seen girls wear shorts with tights a hundred times, but never thought to do it myself. They seemed a bit more snug than I remembered. Fastening the buttons, I turned my head to glance at Jillian. She gave a nodding approval.

"I think I miss hanging out with her more than being with her," I said, ending the statement with air quotes.

"So hang out with her," Jillian said.

"I just can't get the image of her and Vince out of my head."

"Vince Simmons?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

"Green top," Jillian said nonchalantly. "It matches your nails." Her head tilted to the side. "And Vince Simmons is a tool." For a moment Jillian watched me slip the top on. "Can I offer some friendly advice?" she finally asked, though it wasn't really a question. "Don't take this personally. I think you're a nice person. Maybe too nice. And I think that's why a lot of girls see you as friends only material."

"That was advice?" I asked, slumping into my chair.

"I'm not finished," Jillian said, moving over to my shoe box. "Most girls our age, me included, are starting to think about boys. And when we think of boys, we're not thinking of boys who dress like girls."

"You can give the advice any time now," I said, sighing at her somewhat hurtful candor.

"Believe it or not," Jillian said, "I'm trying to help."

"By crushing my dignity?"

Jillian stood up abruptly, thrusting a pair of black boots toward me. They were low cut, flat, imitation Doc Martins. "No!" she said sharply. "I'm trying to tell you that you can have dignity another way. It might even be better that you do."

I snatched the boots from her hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Embrace this," Jillian said, gesturing at me. "All of it." She moved her hand in a sweeping gesture over my boxes of clothes.

"Dressing like a girl?"

Jillian shook her head. "I'm not saying that. Though that is a large part of it." She paused to look me over. "I mean to embrace your girly side more."

"I don't even know what that means," I said, slipping my foot into one of the boots.

For a long moment Jillian stared at me. I could tell she was trying to think of the best way to say what she wanted to say. Then she just said it; honestly, openly, and quite bluntly. "You're more girl than boy at this point. Nobody is even telling you to, or asking you to dress. You've been without Tiffany for months, and at first I thought it was her pushing you to do it, but you're doing it on your own now. I've even seen you with boys, and it's like you're a natural with them. More than you are with girls."

"Wait a second!" I said, standing up in her face. "I don't like where this is going at all. I do not like boys!"

"Hold your horses," Jillian said, putting her hands on my shoulders. "I'm not saying to go chasing after boys. In fact… 'don't do that,' would be my advice there." She took a deep breath. "I'm saying when you're out there," she nodded toward my window, "away from pressure. Just being yourself. You look more comfortable in your own skin than most girls do. The pool party. The modeling. The fall festival." She looked into my eyes. "The Halloween party…"

"I may have looked comfortable, but that was far from the truth," I said meekly. "Dancing with Vince wasn't my idea."

"You were a natural," Jillian said, quietly. "It's like instinct took over. Regardless if you like boys or not, you had them wrapped around your finger. Most girls can't even pull that off."

"So you're saying I should be a girl."

"No," Jillian said, as she took my hands and pulled me from my chair. "I'm saying you are already a girl. And you should embrace that."

"Let's go," Nancy said, bursting into the room. She paused to look around, and then her eyes fell on me. "Cool room. Though I kind of expected a more girlish touch to it."

"Are we going?" Carla asked from behind Nancy.

"Are we?" Jillian asked quietly as she looked at me.

"Yeah," I said, suddenly finding myself smiling. "Let's get out of here."

I started to follow the others out of my room, when Jillian turned and stopped me. She slapped a small pink tube in my hand. "Lip gloss," she said with a wink. "Can't leave home without it."

Before long we were out of my house, and rushing across our neighbors yards. We didn't stop until we hit Carla's house. That entire afternoon I tried to make a conscious effort to evaluate my own experiences. I wanted to see if Jillian's words rang true. For some reason I wanted to disprove her, no matter what it took. After all, she barely knew me. Where did she come off saying I was a girl?

And so I studied my behavior. I took note of my actions and thoughts. My grand plan was to write everything down later in my journal. How I ate, drank, talked, walked, laughed, or even showed other emotions; they would all be my focus that day. However, as the afternoon dragged on, I forgot all about my experiment. I stopped focusing on the small things, and began to really have a good time.

"So you went to a spa with your mom?" Nancy asked, taking a sip of soda through a straw.

"Yeah," I said, taking a sip of soda myself. "It was actually pretty nice."

"My mom hasn't even done that," Nancy pouted.

"They did my nails and everything," I said.

"Lucky…" Nancy said. "Getting my nails done consists of a drive to the drug store for press-ons."

Jillian walked in the room with a bottle of cherry soda. She plopped down on the sofa next to me, and swung her legs up and into my lap. This had been done before at Tracy's party by Vanessa. Apparently there was a universal truth to girls simply lounging on each other. Though I hardly expected Jillian to do it to me. I nearly dropped my own drink, and the whole scene caused Carla to start giggling.

"What's with her?" I asked.

"Low sugar tolerance," Nancy said, rolling her eyes.

"So when are you going to come back and model for 'Tweens?" Jillian asked.

"I don't know," I said. "That was fun, but mostly because Tiffany was there with me."

"I'll do it with you," Jillian said.

"Me too!" Carla said, expectantly.

"You really think I could get away with that again?" I asked.

"Easily," Jillian said. "But you might have to let one more person in on your secret."

"Your sister?"

"Oh God, no," Jillian said, laughing. "She already knows. I was talking about Dylan."

"Ugh," I said quite emphatically. "Not Dylan." Just the thought of him knowing turned my stomach. "Wait!" I sat up a bit straighter. "How does Casey know?!"

"Duh," Jillian said. "She's friends with Kate." She took a sip of soda. "You're lucky you're not in high school yet, because half of the senior class knows about you."

I sat there for a moment with my jaw open. To think that that many people knew about me worried me. Tiffany's big mouth was bad enough, but I never concluded that her sister would be a hundred times worse. Suddenly I felt Jillian's foot on my knee, and she was rocking it back and forth. I turned to see a huge smile on her face.

"Relax!" Jillian said. "We don't have to tell Dylan." She winked at me. "And I was just kidding about Casey. She knew when you came back to buy that dress."

"Oh my gosh!" Nancy blurted out. "You go shopping for clothes too?!"

"Where else is she going to get them?" Jillian asked.

Nancy just sat and blinked.

"We've so gotta take you shopping with us," Carla said.

"Whoa, whoa," I said, holding my hand up. "Let's not rush this whole thing."

"She's right," Jillian said. "We just got her out of her house today. Let's not push it."

Carla started giggling uncontrollably. So much so, that she snorted. By the time Nancy turned to look at her, Carla had started coughing uncontrollably. She set her drink down and waved her hands in the air. Then started patting her chest.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked.

"It's just…" Carla tried to get her breathing under control. Her words came in rushed, staggered breaths. "She keeps referring to Bailey in feminine pronouns."

"What's wrong with that?" Jillian asked. "Bailey's a total girl." She looked right into my eyes. "Aren't you Bailey?"

Even if I wanted to, I could not hide my true feelings. Fire spread throughout my cheeks, flaring up so bad I could feel it in my temples. I felt flush, and could hardly control my breathing. Nothing except an actual mask could mask my blush at that moment. Then I realized I couldn't even argue against Jillian's assessment.

"I… I guess so," I stammered.

"Bailey…" Jillian said, now serious. She pushed her foot into my thigh. "You have to start being honest with yourself."

"You're with friends here," Nancy said, reaching up and grabbing my knee.

Carla simply looked lost as to what was going on around her, but she managed to nod in agreement with Nancy. "Totally," she said casually.

"Honestly…" I said, straightening myself again. "I feel lost most of the time."

"Join the club," Carla murmured.

"Let her finish," Jillian said, in a scolding tone. She reached up and gave me a gentle tug on my shirt sleeve. "Go on, Bailey."

I took a sip of soda and cleared my throat. "This is one of the few times that I haven't felt pressured by anyone," I said. "I mean… I feel pressured to talk right now, but I don't feel I was pressured into dressing, or having to be a girl." I looked at each of the other girls thoughtfully. "I thought Jill pushed a little earlier for me to dress, but then I realized I had already started before you girls even showed up."

"You were already halfway there," Jillian said, rocking my leg with her foot again. "I just helped you pick the rest of your outfit."

I smiled at her, and put my hand on her knee. "I've been looking for every excuse to deny it since then," I said. "I wanted to disprove what you said to me earlier. In fact, I've been wanting to disprove myself for the last two months." I took a few deep breaths. "The truth is… I can't. This is natural. This… feels… natural."

"What feels natural?" Nancy asked.

"Being a girl," I said, meekly.

Jillian gave me an abrupt shove with her foot. "Embrace it," she said, smiling.

"I…" I took another deep breath. "I'm a girl."

Jillian pushed herself toward me. She threw her arms around me, and gave me a big hug. Before I knew it, all three of the girls were hugging me. Although I'm fairly sure Carla still had no clue what had transpired. However, the words I had said rang true, just as they had when Jillian had said them. I knew how I truly felt now. I knew I was a girl.

With that knowledge in my head, and two more sodas in me, I walked home in high spirits; or at least high on sugar. I knew how I felt now, but I didn't know what to do with it. Saying it, and believing it were one thing, but actualizing it was a dilemma in itself. Nearly a week away from turning thirteen, I still had a lot to figure out. The first thing I needed to figure out was how to explain myself to my mother and Tom.

And that moment came fast, as I slid the back door open. There at the kitchen table sat Tom, along with my mother. The look on her face brought to mind something very important that I had neglected. Something I was wearing, and had been wearing for weeks. Something that was no longer hidden.

"Where have you been?" Tom asked.

My mother rose from her chair and came over to hug me. "We've been worried sick."

As I looked past my mother, I could get a perfect view of Tom. His face appeared like one of those cartoon characters where their head was about to erupt in steam. I pictured his ugly crew cut scalp rising above his head and spinning like a top. It took all of my resolve to not crack a smile at this thought. I knew from past experiences that I needed to answer his question sooner rather than later.

"I was at Carla's house," I said, as my mother released me from her embrace. "We were just hanging out."

"Who's Carla?" my mother asked.

"Hanging out…" Tom muttered. "Do you have any idea…"

"Tom," my mother said calmly. "Go easy."

Tom looked as if the sharp breath of air he took in could kill him. Letting it out, he casually pushed his hands against the table top. "I came home today," Tom said. "Found the backdoor unlocked, and your room looking as if it had been ransacked." He tilted his head to the side. "And you weren't here. Neither is your brother. What was I supposed to think? Especially after your episode at Nathan's house."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "They showed up without warning, and I…"

"Who are they?" my mother asked, as she ran her hand over my hair.

"Three girls I go to school with," I said.

Tom's brow furrowed. "Bailey," he said rather calmly. "When you dress… do you feel and act like a girl?"

My mother looked down at me. Her face appeared as one mixed with reassurance and expectation. She nodded. I took a deep breath.

"Yes," I said quietly. "Sometimes I feel like one without the clothes though."

"That's okay, sweetie," my mother said. "It's okay to have those feelings."

"But that's not why I'm asking," Tom said, standing up. "I'm asking, because it's hard for me to know what to think, Bailey." He slowly walked over to the sink and refilled his glass with water. "If you're out there…" He gestured through the window. "Dressed like you are now. Feeling like a girl. Acting like a girl." He turned to look at me. "Being a girl…"

"I think what Tom is trying to say," my mother said, taking my face in her hands. "Is when you're out there as a girl, we have no choice but to think of you in those terms."

"It's a different circumstance," Tom said. "Call me old-fashioned, but boys can usually handle themselves. I worry about you and Justin regardless. But girls out alone… Things can happen." He sighed inwardly, and rubbed the back of his neck. "And it's almost dark too. What were you thinking?"

"Could you at least let us know where you are?" my mother asked.

I nodded slowly. My mother's hands moved from my face, and she pulled me in for another hug. I wrapped my arms around her waist. Tom moved back to the kitchen table and sat down. Eventually my mother dropped her embrace. She stepped aside and pointed at an empty chair. I reluctantly moved to sit down.

"Now," my mother said. "I think the bigger issue here, is why did you hide that you were dressing again?"

"I don't know…"

"That's not good enough," Tom said, raising his voice. "If you could just be honest with us for one second…"

"Tom," my mother scolded. She waited a moment for Tom to relax. Then she sat down between us at the table. "We want to help you," she said, putting her hand on mine. "But we need to know what it is you need from us."

Now felt like as good a time as any to let my true feelings out. I'd been holding it back for months now. "I need Rajan back," I blurted out. "I don't like Doctor Brooks."

Tom's head dropped. "Dinesh is gone, Bailey," Tom said mundanely. "His family needed him back home." He lifted his head up. "And what's wrong with Brooks?"

"He's creepy," I said, for lack of a better description.

"Creepy?" Tom said, flabbergasted. "How is he creepy?"

"I don't know," I said. "I just don't feel comfortable with him."

"We can find another doctor," my mother said, patting my hand.

Tom let out a slight groan. He turned to my mother. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get Dinesh in the first place?" he asked. "Brooks knows Bailey's case. He's on the same insurance…"

"We can manage," my mother said, hiding her face from my view. "I think Bailey needs someone more specialized. And it might do some good to find another therapist." She paused for a moment. "Possibly for all of us?"

Tom's head tilted toward her. I watched as his eyes rolled up to meet hers. His jaws moved as he appeared to be mulling it over. In the silence I could hear the wind outside. Then out of the silence, the front door opened and closed. Footsteps sounded on the entryway stairs.

"I'm home!" Justin yelled. "Anyone here?"

Tom slammed his hands on the table, and pushed himself up from his chair. He spun and stomped into the living room. "Where in the hell were you all afternoon?" he nearly shouted.

"Out," Justin replied.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Tom said loudly. "It's almost nine on a school night."

"I was just out with friends," Justin said. "Chill."

"I should knock your smartass back down those stairs," Tom said.

"What the hell's your problem?" Justin asked.

"Your bullshit answers for one," Tom said. "And your attitude for another."

Immediately my mother pushed herself into the living room, injecting herself into the situation. "Tom…" She moved between Justin and Tom, but remained focused on my stepfather. "We all need to cool off here." She paused for a moment to think. "You needed to do something at work," she finally said. "Why don't you go and do that?"

Tom glanced back and forth for a moment between my mother and Justin. Then he looked back over his shoulder at me. Suddenly he seemed more relaxed. His eyes filled with worry, and his whole demeanor changed. For the briefest of moments I saw something in Tom that I had never seen before. He was a wounded man. Then it was gone, as he rushed over to the living room table.

"I don't know why I bother," Tom muttered. "It doesn't matter what I say, Susan. They'll never get it."

My mother moved over and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'll talk to them," she said.

"Susan," Tom said as he straightened himself. "You have two bright kids here." He raised his eyebrows. "But neither one of them is smart enough to pick up a damn phone."

"We were both kids once too," my mother said, quietly as she rubbed his upper arm.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Justin blurted out. "I'm home before curfew."

"Justin," my mother chided. "Zip it."

Tom looked like he was ready to punch another hole in the wall. "I don't have time to argue this shit," he finally said, desperately holding back his anger. He held up his wallet, pointing it at Justin. "You come home after school. Period. Or I'll take the damn car away." He turned to face me, putting his wallet in his back pocket. "And you," he said a little less hostile. "Home after school. And you wait until one of us is home before you run off somewhere, or at least leave a damn note. I wanna know where you both are. So I don't come home and think the worst has happened."

Tom grabbed his keys as he passed through the living room. He stopped to face me in particular one more time. "I am really disappointed you've been keeping this a secret," he said, gesturing at my attire. "I don't care if you come home and parade around in panties with curlers in your hair. But you could've at least told your mother like she asked." He shook his head. "I have to go."

"Drive safe, Tom," my mother said, as Tom pulled away from her.

"What about spring training?" Justin asked, as our stepfather pushed past him.

"That's the only damn thing you better be doing after school for awhile," Tom said, before descending the stairs. He paused to look back at us one last time, before opening the door and leaving.

For a moment we all stood in silence, staring at the front door. I felt horrible keeping my dressing from my mother. A simple promise had been broken between us, and I could tell she was extremely disappointed. Yet behind it all I could sense she was upset about something else entirely. Whatever that was, she kept it well hidden as she turned to look at me and smile

"Bailey…" she said quietly. "Run and get a jacket." She looked at Justin. "We're going out to eat."

---

To Be Continued...