---

What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

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Part Eight

Mom drops me off at Dr. Myers’ building and I ride up to the eleventh floor. I had decided to come dressed more comfortably today. Starting to wear the light makeup at school somehow has boosted my confidence enough that I come in a more ‘neutral’ Chrissie mode—jeans and a sweater. Oh, and flats.

I still wear a bra and have full eyeliner and mascara, plus lip gloss on, though.

I take a seat in the waiting area after signing in and notice that Grace isn’t here. I guess she just dropped Barbie off, too. I look at the clock over the receptionist’s desk and see that I only have about five minutes before our joint session is to begin.

What? Oh, yeah—sorry. I need to catch you up.

Barbie and I have back-to-back hour-long sessions scheduled. Barbie spends her first forty-five minutes with Dr. Myers alone, then we do half-an-hour in a joint session, then I spend my last forty-five minutes alone with her.

Jeannette, the receptionist, smiles and motions me in.

Show time! Or, well, something like that.

I’m still not sure what I’m going to say.

I decide to just see what happens…

I enter the room where Barbie and Dr. Myers have been holding the session—Room Four—and give Dr. Myers a girly-hug when she gets up and comes over to me. Barbie comes over and gives me one, too, then we all sit down.

Dr. Myers smiles and says, “So, Chrissie—I hear there was excitement at school this week. How is Jimmy doing?”

I give her an awkward smile—talking in third person about myself feels funny. I mean—I am the same person…

I shrug, “Most of the physical damage has healed—I think he is doing OK.”

She nods and gives me a wink. I think she did that on purpose. Why? I have no idea, but hope to find out later.

The next half hour flies by as Dr. Myers engages both Barbie and I in a series of questions that guides the discussion. The gist of it is, Barbie seems to be getting more and more comfortable being around Jimmy at school—while nowhere in the same universe with other boys.

She’s OK being around boys when in a group of girls that way outnumbers the boy or boys—or if there is an adult woman around. Dr. Myers notes that she’s lucky that all of our teachers are women.

With Jimmy, she’s now comfortable enough to sit in a crowded cafeteria, for example, and have lunch without a full-on panic attack. She’s not ready to go for any private walks, or anything, yet, though.

Dr. Myers gives her a big hug and whispers something in her ear when her time is up. Barbie nods and smiles, then leaves the two of us alone in the room.

Dr. Myers smiles at me and asks, “OK, how is Jimmy really doing? And, yes, I know Jimmy and Chrissie are the same person. First, I wanted to see your reaction when I asked that—and I got the response that I expected, well, no hoped. That you know that, too.”

She grins a little at the sour look on my face and continues, “Second, I needed to get you used to the delicate balancing act we had to be in over the next half hour. Barbie is getting used to Jimmy being around her—but she has put up this carefully constructed wall in her head that Jimmy and Chrissie are two separate people. Not healthy in the long run, but good enough for now. We can slowly work at tearing down that wall, together, OK?”

I take a deep breath and nod.

She continues with a confirming nod of her own, “Hopefully, that will help her with her overall anxieties. Sadly, that is likely a much longer road—one that she will hopefully come to the end of one day.”

She cocks her head and says, “Somehow, I get the feeling that you’ll be there when she does, though.”

I smile crookedly at her, “I hope so.”

Then she straightens her notepad and plays with her pen. She looks me straight in the eye and repeats, “So, back to my original question, Chrissie. How is Jimmy really doing?”

I sigh. The dream was stronger last night—strong enough that the taunting woke me up in a sweat. It took me a while to get back to sleep. It had all seemed so real. I’m pretty sure that it is something my brain is just trying to work through.

I’m a guy and guys don’t admit to this stuff.

Right?

She just continues to quietly sit there. I’m sure she can read the inner turmoil and struggle on my face.

I sigh and shake my head, “Jimmy’s fine Dr. Myers. Being able to have lunch with Barbie a couple of days a week is awesome! What the school did with Brad sent a clear message to not mess with whoever happens to be eating at my table—well, and the girls themselves! I never realized…”

I let my words drop and she giggles, but remains otherwise quiet.

After a couple minutes of silence, she says, “OK, Chrissie, I’ll start. When I saw you last week, you were all dolled-up and doing your best to be ‘Chrissie’. You were doing an admirable job, but it was still…awkward. I did see you as tomboy. Today, I see a much more relaxed, Chrissie—both in terms of garb and behavior. I think you are coming to be much more in tune with your Chrissie role—and with time, that may actually bleed over into Jimmy’s behaviors. I know you have strived to be invisible at school—but that protection, inappropriate as it is, has been cracked with the Brad incident.”

I feel my face pale.

She says, “I’m not saying this to alarm you—or to persuade you to change anything. I just want you to be aware. You don’t have any ‘guy’ friends to use as a baseline—and that can warn you of Chrissie-like behavior, the way you now have a bunch of girlfriends that will point out when Chrissie is acting more like Jimmy. Does that make sense? I want to make sure that we keep that as a topic on our weekly agenda. I may also consult with a friend of mine that is more of an expert on such things. Oh, and don’t get me wrong, I think it’s perfectly fine for boys to have feminine tendencies—and vice versa—but what I think and others think at school may well be different.

I suddenly have ‘the vision’ and jolt a little.

She gives me a concerned look and waits.

After a few minutes of complete silence and her just looking at me, I break.

What? OK, I’m a guy, not a frickin’ Navy Seal!

“It’s just…”

I let it drop again.

She doesn’t let it go, though, “Just what?”

I sigh, “Well, mostly ever since Brad…assaulted…me. I still have a hard time calling it that, but the girls insist that’s what it was. I mean Mitsi even broke up with him over it!”

She nods and says, “The girls are right, Chrissie—it was assault. You’re sure you want me to call you Chrissie?”

I sigh and nod, “Yes, I have to keep reminding myself that I am when in these clothes, or I might slip up and…really get beat up! So, that is a concern of mine!”

She nods, “OK, Chrissie, you were going to say something else, though, right?”

I sigh again, “Well, ever since Brad assaulted me, I have been having these…dreams.”

She just quietly looks at me, waiting.

I blow out my breath and say, “It’s always the same—well, mostly. Although it seems to be getting more vivid. I’m surrounded by the bigger—older—kids and they’re taunting and shoving me. They’re calling me things like sissy and girly-boy. The weird thing is that in the dream, they’re older than me—somehow, I just know that—but they only look like they’re maybe eight, or so.”

She’s taking some notes, quietly letting me talk. She looks up when I pause and asks, “These kids—are they boys?”

I shake my head, “Both boys and girls—they just seem like they’re maybe two or three years older than me.”

She writes some more, “So…you’re what? Five?”

I shrug, “I have no idea. It’s all sort of foggy—it’s just a…feeling…I have. Especially when it happens during the day.”

Her eyebrows go up at that, “So, you have this ‘dream’ during the day? Are you not sleeping and falling asleep in class?”

I shake my head, “Err…no. I mean, the dream did wake me up last night and I had trouble falling asleep again, but that was really the first time for that. No, during the day it’s more like a…vision…than a dream.”

She silently nods and sits there looking at me.

I want to scream at her!

What? I just bared my soul to her and she just looks at me!

I jump when she speaks, it had been quiet for so long, “I’m sorry, Chrissie. I had to think about that for a minute. I don’t know what this means, yet, but I want to keep track of the times you have this ‘vision’ and how many times you have the dream. Write down any details you can remember as soon after the event as you can, while they are still fresh in your mind, OK? We will figure this out.”

She makes a couple of notes and then asks, “Have you told anyone else about this?”

I silently shake my head.

She nods and prods, “Are you going to? You know I can’t—and won’t.”

I shake my head and say, “I’d rather keep this between us, for now. I mean it all started after Brad knocked the cotton candy loose in my head.”

She gives me a funny look.

I just grin lop-sidedly back at her.

Bam! Two can play at the mind game thing!

I shrug, “I mean… I think he just messed with my head. I hope it will pass, so there’s no sense making a big deal of it, right?”

She shakes her head, “Well, no, I don’t think it’s ‘nothing’—but, we do need to establish what it is and I understand your hesitation to bring this to others’ attentions, for now. At least you’re talking to me about it. At some point, if it doesn’t just ‘go away’, as you so eloquently put it, I will be urging you to talk to others to maybe help explain it. However, it will still be your choice.”

I nod.

She looks at her watch, “Our time for today is up, Chrissie. You have my private number. Use it if you need to—I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or on the weekend, OK? And I may bring in my friend in our session after Christmas, OK?”

I nod again and she rises and gives me a girly-hug.

I check the room—no pink cotton candy anywhere.

Should I be worried at that?

I leave her office with a sigh and see Mom waiting for me in the waiting area. She smiles and I wave at Jeannette on the way out. Jeannette waves back and says, “You look really cute today, Chrissie. I love that top!”

Bam! Pink cotton candy is stuck all over everything!

Whew! I was getting a little worried there… I mean, I am a guy—right?

---

The rest of the weekend is pretty quiet. We all wrap our presents and put them under the tree. As I finish up the one for Barbie and start on Jill’s, I suddenly have a panicked thought.

I go find Mom and ask, “Ummm, Mom… You don’t think that Mitsi, Kate, and Sara will get me anything, do you? I mean me getting something for Jill—and Barbie is a given, but… I mean, I don’t get girl’s rules on these things. It’s so much easier with guys. Well, I think—not that I really know, I guess.”

O!M!G! I’m chattering!

Mom smiles, “Slow down, Hon! Does it matter if they get you anything? If you want to get them something?”

I look at her. I think there is cotton candy that is running out my nose—the pressure in my head has gotten high enough to liquify the stuff and I’m hemorrhaging it out my nose. It’s pushing on the backs of my eyes—I can feel it! Soon, it will be leaking out there, too! Like some weird Cotton Candy Ebola—‘CCbola’. I wonder if it’s contagious and I’ll be quarantined? Worse! Is it treatable?!?!

I shake my head to get these weird feelings under control and say in a low voice, almost a whisper, “Well, I don’t want them to feel bad. If I get them something and they don’t get me anything—or vice versa—won’t that, like violate some girl-code, or something?”

Mom smiles impishly, “Is that Jimmy or Chrissie asking?”

“Mo…o…o…ooom! You know what I mean!” I know that comes out in a whine, along with liquified pink cotton candy goo that is now splattered all over the walls.

I hope she doesn’t make me clean that up!

She tones down the imp and shrugs, “Why don’t you just get them something and then see what happens?”

I sigh. Getting something for Jill has always been easy. We’ve always gotten each other a gag gift—and this year is no different. Barbie was a little tougher, but with Mom’s help, I found her a cute heart-shaped necklace at Frostings that is similar to mine—well, Chrissie’s—oh bosh! You know what I mean!

What would I get these girls? Mom is right, would I get them a gift as Chrissie—or as Jimmy. I mean, we really haven’t even gotten together as a group with me as Chrissie. Detention was always my excuse for that.

And I’m not really looking forward to it—whenever it happens. I just think it will be awkward.

Anyway, I get an epiphany when I think about what I do know about our common ground, with the limited knowledge I have.

“Mom, can you drop me off at the Dragon’s Tooth for a bit?”

She gives me a really funny look and then says, “Sure? Give me twenty minutes and I can drive you over.”

---

So, Christmas is on Saturday, this year and Christmas Eve is a big family thing, for us. So, Jill gets it all set up that ‘The Circle’ will be meeting at her house on Thursday for a sleepover.

What? Yes, that includes me—well, Chrissie-me.

What’s that? Are you crazy? No, I’m not sleeping over. I will be heading home sometime during the night.

And before you even ask, yes, I’m nervous. I just hope it won’t be awkward. And, yes, I’m totally glad that I got those presents.

I walk over to her house at around four in the afternoon. I’m wearing a pair of the leggings and a comfortable sweater. Jill had said to come in comfortable clothes, so this is the best I’ve got. I’m not wearing a bra, though. I have my bag with the presents in it and go in without knocking, like always. I hang up my coat—yes, the pink one—and see that I must be the last to arrive, since the closet is full of other coats.

I walk into the kitchen and Mitsi lets out a little scream! She says, “Oh, Chrissie! You scared me! I didn’t hear the doorbell!”

I give her a curious look and Jill giggles, “Ummm… Chrissie just comes in here—like I just go in over there. It’s always been that way for us.”

Mitsi smiles and comes over to give me a hug, followed by Kate, Sara, and finally Barbie.

What follows is strange, but at least not awkward, I guess. I mean, when I’m Chrissie and over here studying, it’s mostly ‘business’. Sure, I would get pulled into those topsy-turvy, inside-out, forward-backward, weird girl conversations during the studying, but we were still pretty focused.

This is totally different—I’m fully immersed in pink-cotton-candy-land!

Of the girls here, outside Jill and Barbie, Mitsi is the only one that has actually met ‘Chrissie’ and Sara and Kate are quick to start treating me more like a girl than they normally do at school when we’re at lunch together.

I guess I should have expected it, but then again, why should I have? After less than an hour, I’m headed back home to put on a bra and something less comfortable. Sara and Kate ‘just have to’ to see in my more girly mode.

I sigh as I put on the bra and then my skirt. I guess it’s a good thing that I just shaved my legs last night.

What? So, sue me! It feels nice!

What? My underarms? Well, yeah… I did those, too… And, no—not because it feels nice.

What? Why, then? I…don’t really know… I guess… O!M!G! Just go away! Will you?

Anyway, I put the same sweater back on and grab my flats. I’ll be hanged if I’m going to wear heels—none of them are!

Mom smiles and hugs me before I tromp back out into the cold with a grumble.

I go back in and Sara and Kate are right there at the door waiting for me.

Kate exclaims, “Chrissie! You look awesome, girl! Why would you ever dress any other way—that tomboy look just doesn’t suit you!”

Sara nods and says, “You’re gorgeous! Come on, Kate’s going to do your makeup and I’m going to do your nails!”

They each have an arm and are pulling me towards the kitchen. I come to a sudden halt and they nearly pull my arms out. “I don’t know, girls. You know I only do this for Barbie’s sake. There isn’t any need for me to go that far.”

Kate’s face falls, “OK, I guess we were getting a little carried away and steamrolling you. But, would you let us—just to see?”

Sara gives me a pouty-face and says, “Look, we know you like to do your eyes—you’ve already admitted to that. Give this a try. If you don’t like it, we’ll never bring it up again.”

I sigh, “That’s what I’m afraid of—that I will like it!”

They giggle and know they’ve won.

Pink goo sprays all over the wall—hemorrhaging from every pore in my body. Can girls get CCbola, I wonder?

I sit there at Jill’s vanity, after completely washing my face, and experience the feel of foundation for the first time in my life.

What? No—I’ve never wanted to feel it! But, I can’t say it feels bad–just…foreign.

What’s that? No! I’m am a guy!

I think…

I sit there while Kate dabs and spreads the foundation—of course, I have no idea what that is until she tells me—on my face.

I suddenly get that feeling—I know I’m about to have another ‘vision’. I brace myself and grab the edge of the vanity.

It passes pretty quickly, but the girls all notice.

I now know that ‘foundation’ is to even out skin tone—and that I don’t really need much with my complexion. Whatever that means? But I figure it is hiding most of the blood-loss in my face.

Even so, Kate exclaims, “Chrissie! What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost!”

I sigh and shake my head. I say, “It’s nothing. I mean, somehow this just seems…wrong.”

Sara takes my hand and says, “Hon, you were OK with it a minute ago. What happened? We really aren’t trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do. We honestly thought you would like it.”

I sigh and feel my hands tremble. Pictures of girls taunting me flood my brain. I force them out by focusing on Sara’s face and wail, “That’s the problem! I think I do—but, I shouldn’t!”

Jill says, “Bull! It’s like that time with my panties!”

I look at her like she’s crazy. I ask, “What does that have to do with anything? I mean, yes, it’s what got ‘Chrissie’ started, but I am…working through my feelings on that. And, yes, just so the rest of you know, I admit it! I wear panties all the time now!”

I get this group-indifferent ‘So what?’ look and groan.

Jill says, “I’m not talking about a few weeks ago! I’m talking about when we were in Kindergarten. You borrowed a pair of my panties back then and told me you were going to wear them because they were nicer than yours. I happily gave them to you. You brought them back to me the next day and told me to put them in the wash—but to never talk of it again. You looked scared. I never said anything to anyone and I didn’t ask—although, I’ve always wondered. Ever since I was five.”

Now, I know she’s crazy! I never borrowed any panties from her!

“Jill, I love you like a sister, but I think you must be remembering a dream of some sort…”

I gasp… A dream!

It all comes flooding back…

The panties. Wearing them to school the next day. We were in a K-5 at the time. I didn’t get a chance to tell Jill that I was wearing them; she was sick that day. I didn’t tell anyone—not even my parents. It was Jillie’s and my secret. But, Joey Hanson found out. He saw them when we were in the bathroom. Joey was in third grade. I was in Kindergarten.

My life that day was a living hell—courtesy of the third grade.

Oh, they were careful not to let the teachers catch on to their bullying.

Somehow, I blanked out the memory.

I look in the mirror and see the tears streaming down my face and the very concerned faces of five girls surrounding me.

I whisper, “I need to talk to Dr. Myers.”

I don’t even notice Mitsi grabbing her phone and quietly talking on it.

Jillie and Barbie are hugging me and I don’t process whatever it is they are saying.

I just feel like all the cotton candy deflated in my head—and me with it.

I feel…sad about that.

Mitsi grabs my hands and says, “Mama will be here in ten minutes. We don’t live far and she just got home.”

I shake my head and can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face.

I check—they’re not pink.

---

Mitsi brings her mother into Jill’s room, where I am still sitting at the vanity with tear-streaked foundation dabbed on my face, and she asks the girls to leave us alone for a minute.

I look at her and wail, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

She comes over and gives me a hug and shushes me, “It’s OK, Hon. Now, what’s this all about? Mitsi is very confused and couldn’t really give me any insight.”

I sigh and take a deep, trembling breath. I look at her and tell her about the ‘vision’ and finish with, I guess it wasn’t a vision?”

She shakes her head and says, “No, Hon. It seems they were flashbacks of a repressed memory. Do you mind if I bring in Jill?”

I shake my head and she pokes hers out and quietly says something. Jill comes back in with her and sits down next to me, taking my hand in hers, confused and her eyes full of questions.

Dr. Myers says, “Jill, you remember giving Jimmy those panties so long ago?”

She seems shocked and nods, “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

Dr. Myers asks, “You were sick the day Jimmy wore them, right?”

She thinks back and slowly nods, “Yes, I gave them to Jimmy and I guess he wore them the next day. It was our little secret. He really liked the way they were softer than his and…the colors and patterns. This is hard to remember everything, but, I had a slight fever the next morning and couldn’t go to school. The fever was over by lunch and so Jimmy was allowed to come over after school—he gave me the panties back and told me to put them in the wash, so I suppose he wore them. He made me promise to never say anything about them again. He was…different…after that. I think that is when we got to be even better friends and he sort of shunned everyone else. The kids at school—the older ones—would give him a hard time when no one else was around. I never knew what it was about.”

She nods and I think I’m going to die. The humility of that year pressing down on me. Forgetting was such bliss.

Dr. Myers asks, “Chrissie, is it OK to let the others in now?”

I sigh and close my eyes, “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know anything, right now.”

Jill squeezes my hand and Dr. Myer says, “I think your support group is there for you and I think you need them. Once we get you settled, I will talk to your parents and we will see where we go from there. OK?”

I silently nod. Drained.

She gets up and lets the others in—all of them clearly confused.

She quietly lets them know what is going on after confirming with me that it is OK. There are a lot of gasps and Mitsi asks, “So, what does this mean, Mama?”

Dr. Myers says, “Well, Chrissie—or Jimmy—and I have a lot of talking to do. I will bring in a friend that is much better at these types of traumas than I am, but we will figure it out. All I can say at this point is that I am fairly certain that Jimmy has long had Chrissie in him and now we need to figure out what that means. Chrissie, what I am also fairly certain that this means is that you should feel no confusion about the enjoyment that you were experiencing at Kate putting that makeup on you.”

She gives me a pointed look, “Are you OK with me going next door and talking to your parents? I will be right next door.”

I take a deep breath and actually feel better. Better than I have felt in a long time.

I nod and she gives me a hug and asks Jill to come downstairs with her.

Barbie looks at me, still confused, “So, you’re as messed up as me? What a pair we make!”

I look at her and feel an odd warmth, “So, we’re a pair are we? As in couple?”

She giggles, “Well as messed up as we both are, it seems reasonable don’t you think? I mean you are my doll, after all—maybe more so than we thought?”

I shake my head, “I don’t know. Would that be bad?”

She smiles, “No, I don’t think so.”

The others are quietly taking in the exchange. Finally, Mitsi breaks in, “OK, you two—you need to get your own room! But, I still am confused about some things, Chrissie.”

Jill walks back in at that moment and says, “Me, too. So, that whole ordeal is why you became a loner? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

I sigh, “I don’t know, Jillie. I was so traumatized by the whole thing, I guess, that I blocked it all out. I remember now thinking that I couldn’t trust boys or girls because they all attacked me that year. By the next year, I guess they were all over it and I just completely blocked it out. But, I could never trust anyone but you.”

Sara quips, “Jillie?”

Jill giggles, “It’s what he used to call me, before… I haven’t heard that in a long time…” Her voice trails off in nostalgia.

Kate looks at me and asks, “So…makeover?”

I sit there and reflect. Yes, I’m drained.

What? You wouldn’t be?

But, I have friends—as in plural…

Are you paying attention? Plural—as in more than one!

Err… Where was I?

Right. I have friends for the first time that I can remember.

I know the cotton candy is gone—forever. But, I am actually glad about that! I…ummm…don’t like cotton candy.

What? So, sue me! Like you do?

I’m, ummmm, quite happy with the warm, soft pink angora bunnies moving in, in its place.

I smile, “I guess I need to wash my face again?”

Sara giggles and Kate nods.

I just get back to the vanity when my phone buzzes.

I look at the Caller ID and say, “I have to take this, guys.” I answer, “Hi, Mom.”

“Jimmy…Chrissie… Whoever! Are you OK, Hon? Do you want to come home? Dr. Myers is still here.”

I feel the pink bunny cuddle around my brain. “No, Mom. I’m fine—for now. I do want to talk—later. But, is it OK if I spend some time with my friends? I would really like that.”

There is the slightest of pauses, then, “Of course, Sweetie. Have fun. We’ll talk tomorrow. Your father and I love you. You know that, right?”

I giggle.

What? Don’t even start!

“Yes, Mom. I know. I love you, too.” I look up and see Mrs. Holiday standing in the door with a concerned look on her face. I say, “Mom, I think maybe Mrs. Holiday would like to talk?” She nods and I hand her my phone. She leaves the room and I look back at Kate and smile.

She starts dabbing the foundation on from my freshly-washed skin up and Mrs. Holiday comes in and hands me my phone back. She says, “Chrissie, you’re spending the night. No arguments—your Momma and I are in agreement. However, there are some rules. You and Barbie will not be…alone. OK?”

I smile and feel another furry animal animal cuddle up against my brain and start—purring. Bunnies purr? I nod and Kate starts explaining eye shadow to me.

---

I look in the mirror and can’t believe it’s me. I look…hot!

Guy? What guy?

What? Oh… I…don’t know, either. The pink bunnies in my head are having bunnies!

Barbie says, “O!M!G! My girlfriend is hot! I mean…” She blushes…

I blush right back!

I can’t say I have ever been as surprised when she kisses me… On the mouth… And not just a fleeting peck. I think her tongue licks out my stomach!

I was mistaken! The fuzzy, warm things in my brain aren’t bunnies…

They are most certainly…pink Tribbles!!!

I look down and see the imaginary red shirt that I have on turn pink!

I think I taste her stomach, too.

I think I’m bleeding pink!

The other girls all make annoying noises and Jill says, “OK, remember Mom’s rule, you two! We still have presents to open!”

After we have pizza and eggnog, a ‘Circle’ tradition I’m told, we go to the living room to open presents. Jillie and I wind up exchanging ours in the first round and both giggle at our respective gag gifts. I hold up my babydoll negligee that I am to sleep in tonight to the oohs and aahs of the others. She holds up her three very naughty thong panties that I got her to replace the three-pack of panties she had given me—I blush.

The second round I get Mitsi and I hand her my gift. I’m totally nervous! She opens the package and looks at it in surprise, then gives me a bright smile in response. She shows the first edition, first of the series Manga novel to the girls and pouts that she won’t know what happens after. The others agree with her—until they each get first editions of the rest of the series; one of the series for each girl.

I had no idea what to get any of them, except they all showed a little interest in my graphic novels. I had no idea if it was real, or not, but I took a chance. It seems it paid off!

As for me, I get a complete eye makeup set from Kate, everything I need for a manicure from Sara, and a certificate for a year-long membership at Mitsi’s dojo for self-defense lessons from her. I have to laugh at the last one. I hug them all and then get nervous again, when I am in the round with Barbie.

She opens my necklace and breaks out in tears as she asks me to put it on her. She asks, “JC?”

I smile and tell her the engraving stands for Jimmy Christine. She giggles and I know I now have a new nickname.

I open hers and blink. It’s a beautiful set of dangly, pierced earrings—diamonds. Well, I’m sure cubic zirconia. And a coupon for getting my ears pierced at Frostings.

I look at her, confused. She smiles and says, “I just knew you wanted them pierced. I don’t know how, but…”

We taste each other’s tonsils again and I wonder how we’re ever going to pick up all the Tribbles that are exploding from my brain!

What? The original James T. isn’t the only one that has to deal with the little suckers! Care to help?

After Sara does my nails, including my fingernails—my toes are a hot pink, while my fingers are a soft, nude pink that you can’t really tell is on them—we all get into our pajamas and I experience wearing the soft, silky sleepwear of the girly-world for the first time—even if I do keep panties on under the babydoll bottoms to remain tucked.

Barbie and I snuggle up together on the couch and Jill turns on the ‘Squallmark’ Channel to watch the non-stop Christmas movies, certain to make the most hardened criminal squall like a baby.

---

I help make the pancakes the next morning and gather my things to walk home. I hug all of my now true new friends.

What? So what if they’re girls?

I give Barbie a kiss when no one is looking—then another when they are.

I walk home and find Mom and Dad both sitting in the kitchen drinking their coffee. I give them a hug and yawn, “Good morning!”

Now, I’ve never been a coffee drinker, but we didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so I pour a cup and add lots of cream and sugar and sit down with them—knowing they want to talk.

I’m not really looking forward to going through it all, again, but know that they deserve—and need—answers to their questions. As much as I do.

I take a sip of the coffee, grimace, and add some more cream.

I sigh and Mom looks at me with the worry still clear in her eyes, “Did you have fun last night, Hon?”

I nod, “After things settled down, yes, it was a lot of fun. I mean…it was very girly, but they treated me like a friend—a true friend. Other than with Jillie, I’ve never really had that. I wouldn’t…let myself…”

I see Mom smile and I realize I had called Jill, ‘Jillie’, again.

Dad looks at me and says, “Dr. Myers told us some of what happened and placated our fears enough that we let you stay over there last night. Especially because Dr. Myers said she thought it would be good for you. But, if you’re up to it, I’d like to hear it from you. What’s going on, Son?”

I look down at my pink cashmere sweater and giggle at that. He grimaces. “Sorry, Dad. You have to admit that’s kind of funny.”

He sighs, “Are you still my son? Not that I care about that, you know?”

I nod, then shake my head, “I don’t know, Dad. I think so, but I am pretty confused, right now. What I do know is that last night—for the first time since I was in Kindergarten—I felt freed from my own prison. One I didn’t even realize I had put myself in.”

Mom reaches over and hugs me.

I feel tears start to well in my eyes, but, I’m sort of cried out and they just dry up before they can spill over onto my face. I sigh, “I’m remembering more and more of what happened back then; although, the memories are still a little fuzzy. I mean, I was just five after all—and I don’t have Barbie’s eidetic memory. She can remember everything back to when she was two, clear as a bell!”

I take another sip of the coffee and find myself getting more used to the taste—kind of like this pink sweater. I guess it grows on you.

“What I can remember is that I borrowed a pair of Jillie’s Disney Princess panties—I don’t remember which movie. Belle, I think. Anyway, I was proud and was going to tell you both after school. I knew it wasn’t ‘normal’ for me to wear them, but Jillie didn’t see the big deal—and neither did I. It was going to be our secret for the day. Then she got that fever…”

I take another sip of coffee and close my eyes, “It was the bigger kids that tormented and harassed me. They were good little bullies, too. They made sure that no one was around to find out and report it to the teacher—nor, that there was a teacher around to witness it. They threatened to tell everyone if I told—and, by then, I had gotten the message that wouldn’t be a good thing.”

I sigh, “It wasn’t just boys, either. The girls were almost meaner.”

Mom squeezes me tighter in her hug.

“So, I decided to give the panties back to Jillie and never do anything like that again. I kept telling myself that I was a guy. It became my mantra and soon began to sort of sink in, I guess. I never said anything to anyone and soon the bullies moved on. And I made myself forget it ever happened according to Dr. Myers—she called it ‘repressing’ the memory, or something like that.”

I drain the cup of coffee and Dad gets up, shocked, I can tell, and pours us all more.

“When I had a legitimate reason to start wearing girl’s things again it started slowly bringing back the pain. I kept beating myself up about it. I kept telling myself that I was a guy. It was important to me to keep that wall up around the pain—and convincing myself of being a ‘guy’ is…was the glue holding it all together. Then Brad pounded the crap out of me—and the glue fell to pieces. Even Dr. Myers doesn’t know, yet, what that ultimately did to crack the memories wide open, but I started having flashbacks and dreams after that.”

I toy with the cream and pour a bunch in my coffee and stir absent-mindedly. “Then, last night, the camaraderie and increasing…joy of the makeup brought it all to a head.”

I sigh and look at them—with only a little terror in my eyes. “And now you know as much as I do.”

Mom squeezes me again, hard. She says, “OK, Hon. Obviously, you will continue with your sessions with Rita—Dr. Myers. She is also going to bring in a friend of hers that specializes in gender issues—at least until we understand the depth of this better. But, are you OK? For now, I mean? She offered to come over today and talk some more—if you need it.”

I shake my head and say, “No, Mom. I don’t need that. She deserves her Christmas and I want us to enjoy ours. I get it may be awkward at times, but I’m…OK…”

Dad nods and says, “OK. Do you want to help me fry the turkey—or help your mother in the kitchen?”

I smile, “Can’t I do both?”

Dad laughs and Mom giggles. The tension breaks and Dad nods, “Of course—but not in that sweater!”

Mom smiles and says, “I have a nice apron for you, Hon. Why don’t you go take a shower and then we can plan out things. Dress however you feel most comfortable.”

I hug them both and go to take a long shower.

When I come down an hour later, it’s in leggings, a comfortable top—no bra—and full makeup.

Mom just hugs me and Dad is really great about it—he actually doesn’t say a word. While I know he is struggling to get used to seeing me this way, I know he doesn’t really care--as long as it makes me happy.

I look around and hope the pink Tribbles that are all over the house don’t fall into the turkey fryer. You know that would be a mess!

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