I wanted to tell him that it was a stupid idea. I didn't know which was worse: either way, the girls would know I was a boy dressed as a girl. If I pretended to be a girl for the gym class, any of the girls would recognize me later in day when I was dressed as Mark. I was about to object when the bell rang. It startled Mr. Bruce into action. "Come on," he said, pushing me. "We both got places to go."

---

 
1. The Add Thingy
 

Suddenly, in August, as the end of summer was coming into view, my parents told me that we were going to move from California to New Jersey. Why? Because my father got laid off. His company was bought by a bigger company, and the bigger company's first move was to let my father go, along with most of the people he worked with.

Luckily, my dad has lots of friends and connections. And, luckier still, my mom saw the big change coming. She sensed my father's frustration at work, and she put together remarks he made about office life. A month before the layoff was announced, Mom insisted that Dad start reaching out to see what opportunities there were. Because of that, my father pretty much walked out of one job into another.

And so, a mere week after the layoff, Dad was gone. He moved to New Jersey to start his new job. Mom stayed behind to do the packing and moving, and to put our house on the market. I stayed behind with her. Dad lived in a hotel until he found a month-to-month rental, a little apartment that belonged to the friend of a co-worker.

As soon as Dad moved into the little apartment, he wanted me and Mom to come and squeeze in with him, so we could be all together while Mom did the house-hunting.

Mom wanted to go, but she pointed out a huge flaw in that plan: school. I was just about to start high school. By now it was the second week of August, so there wasn't much time to figure things out.

The difficulty was this: Before I could go to school in New Jersey, we had to find a house. Mom didn't trust Dad to pick a good house, so Mom needed to go East. The sooner she got there, the sooner we'd get settled, and the sooner I'd have a school to attend.

Mom said, "I love your father, but he'll pick a place with no windows, or one with a tiny kitchen and no bathrooms. He'll think that we can fix it up, but it will never happen."

After some long talks, they decided to leave me behind. I didn't mind much... this way, I'd get to start school with my friends. But their solution brought up the next problem: where would I live?

Mom called pretty much everyone we knew, and although everyone was sympathetic, no one wanted to put me up for what could end up being four months. Her plan got back to the school somehow, and the principal called. He told Mom that I couldn't be considered a resident if I was just camping out at a friend's house. And if I wasn't a resident, I wasn't eligible for public school.

---

After a few days of indecision and almost desperation, my Aunt Jane came to the rescue.

Aunt Jane lives an hour's drive away in a town called Tierson. Tierson High School is just a few blocks from her house, and her best and oldest friend is the principal's secretary. This friend assured my aunt that she could get me in for the fall semester without any problem. So, problem solved! I'd go live with Aunt Jane while Mom and Dad settled us in New Jersey. Once they found a house, they'd find me a school, and I'd transfer.

Honestly I didn't mind. My Aunt Jane is my father's younger sister, and she's a lot of fun. She assured my mother over and over that she'd keep me in line, but I didn't buy it. I felt like I was in for four months of vacation, rather than four months of school.

For the same reason, my mother was not too crazy about the idea. I heard her say to my father, "No offense, but your sister is a little flaky. Are you sure Mark will be okay with her?" In the end though, Mom agreed. She had to: she couldn't find an alternative. And that's how it was decided: I'd do my fall semester in Tierson with Aunt Jane, and then I'd move East for Christmas.

"It'll take at least that long to close on a decent house," Mom said.

---

Once the big decision about school was made, Mom and I got packing in earnest. We gave things away, we threw out a ton of stuff, and we had an enormous yard sale. It seemed like the packing and the trash would never end.

But of course it did end: a week after the yard sale, the moving company came and carted off our boxes and furniture.

Once the moving company left, I thought we were done, but three days of cleaning followed, and there was still more to throw away!

At last that ended, and then Aunt Jane came. She took Mom to the airport, and me and my boxes to Tierson.

---

Aunt Jane is a nurse. Her schedule is pretty irregular: she has different days off every week, and sometimes her shifts change, but most of the time she works the first shift, from 7am to 3pm. She said we could plan on having dinner together most nights.

Jane told me that school started on the first Thursday of September. I expected it to start on Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, but I didn't mind the delay. Jane insisted that we use those days to drive to Big Sur. She was appalled when I told her that I'd never been. It was beautiful, but I was itching to get back, to get ready for my new school. After all, I wasn't just starting high school, I was starting a new school where I wouldn't know anyone. Understandably, I was pretty nervous. Nervous and excited.

We got back to Tierson at lunchtime on Wednesday, and I went to bed at nine that night. I was still tired from the packing and the move, and the long coastal drive took all the energy I had left. Plus I knew I'd be waking up early: I wanted to get to school early so I could scope things out.

My aunt told me that there would be an assembly for freshmen in the gym, so I figured the first thing to do was find out where the gym is, and after that I could take some time to look around.

When I entered the building, I knew that something wasn't right. The moment I walked in, I had that What's wrong with this picture? feeling, so I stepped aside a moment to figure out exactly what it was. After a minute, it hit me: things seemed far too orderly! I mean, *everybody* seemed to know where they were going. Nobody was looking around, no one looked lost or puzzled — well, no one but me. It didn't look like the first day of school; it looked like school was already underway.

Somehow, the school year had started without me. At least, that's how it looked.

The school day on the other hand was still a half hour away. I still had time to get my bearings. I wandered around, following hallways and stairs, exploring, but it didn't take long before I felt lost and alone. The corridors were featureless. No one said hello. I kept shuffling along and turning one corner after another, and somehow ended up at the doors to the gym. I figured the best thing to do was to wait there until the assembly began.

When I pushed through the doors and entered the gym, I was sure that something was wrong. And not just a little wrong: the place was completely empty. Empty, dark, and cold. There was nothing; no sign that an assembly was going to be held: no chairs, no lights, no people. Bewildered, I walked to the middle of the basketball court and turned around in a slow circle, looking in every corner and finding nothing. I began to feel a little scared, so I jumped when a man's voice called to me from the darkness.

"Hey! What are you doing out there? If you have gym class, you need to get suited up!"

I called to the voice in the darkness and explained that I was waiting for the assembly.

"Assembly?" he repeated. "There's no assembly today."

"For the freshmen?" I ventured. "Orientation?"

"Oh," he scoffed. "That was two days ago! Where were you?"

It turned out that school had started Tuesday, not Thursday, as Aunt Jane had insisted. It also turned out that this man was my gym teacher, Mr. Bruce, and that gym was the first class on my schedule today. There were still twenty minutes to the start of the school day, so he brought me to his office to work things out. He sat down at his desk, sighed, and shuffled through some papers. He stopped at one sheet, grunted to himself, and said to me, "Yeah, just like I thought. You're a drop."

In the public school system, if a student doesn't show up in the first few days of school, he or she is automatically dropped from the rolls. "Don't worry," he said. "It can be fixed. It's not a big deal. I'm pretty sure we still have space for students in the ninth grade. If the grade was full, it would be another story, but it's not. You should be alright there.

"But you've got a more immediate problem. Your first class today is gym, and I'm your teacher. But I don't see a gym uniform there, in the stuff you're carrying."

"No, I thought the assembly would take the place of gym," I replied.

"It did," he said, "two days ago. But not today! And, unfortunately for you, I have a strict uniform policy. This was announced on Tuesday, but I'm going to have to apply it to you anyway. You'll be the first this year. Probably the only one this year. In fact, you'll be the first in... uh, a couple... uh, three years. Since I've started this policy, nobody forgets their uniforms."

"Do I have detention?" I asked, nervously. I didn't want detention on my very first day. I hoped that my meek demeanor, and the fact that I was new, would move him to let me off.

"No," he said. "Detention doesn't work. Boys were always forgetting their gym outfits, figuring they could take the class in whatever they happened to be wearing, but I won't have it. So I found the remedy: I went out and bought a few of these." He held up what looked like a old-fashioned girl's tennis outfit, with a blue skirt and a white top. "The policy is, any boy who forgets his uniform has to wear one of these, and take gym class with the girls."

I was horrified. "Oh, no!" I cried. "But... but, this is my first day of school! I just moved here, and I don't know anyone! I don't want to start off my life here with everybody laughing at me! And I didn't know!"

I could see my pleas had moved him, and he said, "Yeah, I understand. It's not exactly fair... you didn't know... but I don't know what else I can do. If I make an exception for you, the whole thing will get shot to hell. Next week another boy will forget his outfit, and he'll complain that I let you off. And then the kid after him and the kid after him, and pretty soon no one will be ready for gym, and it will take a whole 'nother year to get back on track."

"Couldn't you just give me detention?" I asked. A moment ago I was frightened by the idea of detention, but now detention was starting to look appealing.

"If I could, yeah," he said with a grimace. "The thing is, the principal's already told me that he won't give detention for that. All he'll do is send a note home to your parents. I could do that myself. As if that would help anything."

"Could I skip the class, and go see the principal?" I asked. "I have to straighten out this 'drop' thingy, anyway."

"The 'drop thingy', as you call it, is not a big deal. It'll take all of five minutes. I can let you go a little early and you can straighten that out before your next class."

"What if I go back home, and get my gear?" I suggested. "If I'm late, I could get detention for that."

He scoffed and shook his head.

"But school hasn't started yet!" I protested. "I'm pretty sure I have time to go there and back."

Again he shook his head. "I've already seen you," he replied. "If something happened to you, It would be on my head."

"Can I take gym in what I'm wearing, then?" I asked.

"No," he replied in a flat, heavy tone.

"Why not?" I cried. "The uniform isn't that important, is it?"

That was absolutely the worst thing to say. The uniform issue, as it turned out, was a very sore point for him. A very sore point. He launched into a tirade. Nothing made Mr. Bruce angrier than a boy who was unprepared for class, and not having the proper clothes amounted to not being prepared for class. It showed that the boy didn't take gym class seriously, or didn't think that gym is important. Gym, however, is very important: at least as important as other classes, and maybe more important. If you were out of shape, all your grades would suffer.

He went on and on and on. His voice got very loud, and I found myself unconsciously edging closer to the door.

He said he'd tried everything he could think of to make the boys remember, and still they would forget. He'd make them sit out the class, but that didn't work. He sent them for detention until the principal told him to stop. He sent notes home, with no result. He didn't even want to talk about grades...

"The only thing that works," he said, "is this." And he shook the girl's outfit.

As Mr. Bruce spoke, he face got so red, I thought his head was going to explode. Then suddenly, like a thermometer going down, it went pasty white, and he was calm again. I wasn't sure which color complexion was more frightening. He took a few deep breaths before he spoke again.

"I do feel bad for you, kid," he said in a softer voice. "I understand that you didn't know. So I'm going to give you a break. You will have to wear the outfit, and take class with the girls, but I'll let you get changed here in my office. Usually I make the boy change in the boys locker room, so the others can tease him a little. But I'll spare you that. You can go behind that file cabinet. Nobody will see you."

I did as I was told, and I left my things on a shelf. The gym skirt had underwear built in, so I left my underwear inside the pile of my clothes. "Your things will be safe," the coach said. Then he added, "But you don't have anything valuable there, do you?" I thought for a moment, and took my house key and lunch money. There was a little pocket inside the waist of the skirt, so I put the key and money there.

I didn't have any sneakers, so he took me to a lost-and-found bin, where we found some girl's sneakers that fit.

"You know," he said, "and don't get mad when I say this, but you kind of look like a girl, and for today, that might be a good thing. What's your name again?"

"Mark Donner," I said.

"Umm. You know, you remind me of a Marcie that used to go here. Marcie Something. Now, listen. Here's the idea. Why don't you go to class, and tell the teacher your name is Marcie. Marcie Gray... thing... I don't know. Marcie Gray-whatever. When the class is over, you put your boy clothes back on, and nobody is the wiser. It's a win-win. What do you think?"

I wanted to tell him that it was a stupid idea. I didn't know which was worse: either way, the girls would know I was a boy dressed as a girl. If I pretended to be a girl for the gym class, any of the girls would recognize me later in day when I was dressed as Mark. I was about to object when the bell rang. It startled Mr. Bruce into action. "Come on," he said, pushing me. "We both got places to go."

He brought me back down to the basketball court, where some boys were tossing balls and shooting baskets. I was so nervous, I was nearly shaking, and almost stumbled when I heard a wolf whistle. Mr. Bruce opened a door with one big hand and pushed me outside with the other. I blinked in the sunlight, again almost stumbling, but I had to keep walking because Mr. Bruce's hand was pressing in the middle of my back, gently but relentlessly. He stopped when we reached a group of girls dressed for gym. They were standing in a loose group around a young teacher. Her brown hair was tied back in a short ponytail. She had a whistle hanging around her neck and held a clipboard in her hands.

"Grace? I mean, Ms. Price? This here is Gracie Marlin. I mean, Macy Graylin. No — she's Marcie Something. She's an add, or she will be once she stops by the office. I found her lost in the halls."

"Okay," the teacher said. "Welcome, Marcie." To Mr. Bruce she said, "I guess she can work out the add thingy before her next class."

"Oh, yeah," he replied, grinning. "The 'add thingy'. Sure. Can you let her go five minutes early so she can take care of it?"

Ms. Price nodded, and Mr. Bruce disappeared into the building.

"Okay, Marcie," Ms. Price said, looking me over. "Did you come from a Catholic school?"

"No," I said. "Why?"

"The outfit," she replied. "For today it's fine, but before next time you might want to pick up a pair of uniform shorts and a t-shirt like the other girls. You're just a little, um, overdressed. But anyway... What was your last name again?"

"Donner," I said. Then I (mentally) kicked myself. Saying my name was automatic; it just popped out. I tried to think of some other name, so I could take it back, but aside from my own name (which I'd already said), all I could think of was Gray-something, Gray-whatever. I felt like an idiot as I watched Ms. Price write "Marcie Donner" on her class list. I hoped using my real last name wasn't going to be a big mistake.

We ran over to a field, where a huge sack was waiting for us. It was filled with hockey sticks. Ms. Price gave some directions, and we started playing field hockey. I'd never played before, and I thought it was a lot of fun. After weeks of nothing but carrying boxes and cleaning house, it felt fantastic to be outside and running. I didn't know the game, so I just kept running up and down the field and watching what the others did.

Then, a bad pass sent the ball in my direction. I ran for it and drew my stick back. I saw another pair of legs heading from another direction, so I speeded up, and then—

—BAM! a girl about twice my weight slammed into me. I felt like I'd been hit with a ton of bricks.

I don't remember falling down, but I do remember hearing an ambulance siren in the distance. Ms. Price helped me up, saying, "Come on, Marcie, come sit on the bench." The other girls gathered round to look, but the one who slammed into me hung back. My head was down, and I saw my bare legs sticking out from under the absurdly short skirt. The ambulance lights circled through the trees. I didn't want to go to the hospital dressed like a girl.

"Is the ambulance for me?" I gasped.

Ms. Price smiled. "No, hon, I think you're okay. You just got the wind knocked out of you. You can sit here for the rest of the class, and I'll keep my eye on you." After some more reassurance and a few questions, she stood up, blew her whistle, and got the game going again. Every so often she came over to see how I was doing. Soon I felt fine again, and wanted to get back in the game. She made me wait a few minutes longer, then she let me play.

While the ball was downfield, the girl who hit me came over and apologized. She was a heavy-set girl with short dark hair. "I'm sorry, Marcie," she said. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard. I just wanted to bump you a little. My mom says I don't know my own strength."

"It's okay," I said, and smiled. "I'm fine, and it was an accident, anyway. What's your name?"

"Carla," she replied. She returned my smile and took off after the ball.

I looked up and saw that Ms. Price had seen our conversation. She smiled and gave me a thumbs up.

I was really having fun. I never enjoyed any sport before, and found that it was nice to play when there was no pressure. A few times a breeze fluttered my skirt, and I'd realize I'd forgotten what I was wearing. Whenever I'd get the ball, everyone called, "Marcie! Marcie!" It was great that they knew my name — even if it was a temporary one.

Plus, I scored two goals!

The time flew. Then, abruptly, Ms. Price called me over. "Did they have a team at your old school?"

"Field hockey?" I asked.

"Duh, yeah, field hockey. You're pretty good."

"Thanks," I said. "But no, I never played before."

"Interesting," she said. "We have to talk. Listen, you can go get changed now, and see the principal about the add thingy. Okay?" She pointed me to a door into the building.

The door led directly to the girls locker room, which thankfully was empty. I sniffed at myself and decided that I could get by without a shower. I went from the locker room to the gym, and from there found my way back to Mr. Bruce's office. The light was off, so I switched it on, and ran behind the file cabinet. My clothes were gone! I looked all over the office and in the trash. On an inspiration I ran to the lost-and-found bin, where he'd found the sneakers. But my clothes were nowhere to be found.

Now I felt a little angry. This time Mr. Bruce had gone too far. What did he want with me? I was going to talk to the principal... or maybe my aunt first... but I was going to make sure he got in trouble for this.

I returned to his office. Maybe he'd hidden my clothes so that I couldn't leave without talking to him again. I wanted to look through his desk and file drawers, but angry as I was, I didn't want to get into any more trouble. So I sat in a chair by the door and waited. At first I was mad. Then I was concerned. And then I got worried.

There wasn't a clock anywhere that I could see, but after what seemed like fifteen minutes, he still hadn't come. I got up and headed toward the basketball court. Before I got there, I could see that it was empty, and a boy was climbing the stairs toward me.

"Are you lost?" he said. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Bruce," I told him.

"He's in the hospital, haven't you heard? He had a stroke at the start of class this morning. The ambulance came and everything."

"The hospital?" I repeated stupidly.

"Yeah, the hospital. Are you okay?" he asked. He was a nice looking boy, about my age. I liked him right away, but remembering how I was dressed made me feel quite awkward. "I'm Jerry Auburn. What's your name?" When I hesitated, unsure what name to say, he said, "Don't worry, I don't bite. You're not one of the Graylens, are you? You kind of look like–"

"Marcie," I said, suddenly deciding. I'd already pretended to be a girl for gym class and got away with it. I might still get away with not being recognized later on, when I turned back to Mark. No need to throw that chance away now.

"Yeah, Marcie Graylen. You look a lot like her. Are you her little sister?"

"No, I'm Marcie Donner," I said, going with the lie. "Somebody took my clothes, and I have to see Mr. Bruce."

"Why Mr. Bruce? Why don't you talk to your own gym teacher?"

"Oh," I sighed. "I'm all mixed up. I really need to talk to the principal."

"Do you know how to get there?" Jerry asked. When I shook my head no, he offered to walk with me.

© 2006, 2007 by Kaleigh Way