What's in a name? Do clothes make the girl? Can you kill your father for calling you "Daisy" in front of a boy?
Part 6 - B is for Boy
by Wanda Cunningham
Chapter 12
Plan B
I heard them talking about me while Daddy carried me into the house. "She fainted," he said, sounding concerned and baffled.
"What?" Mom said from behind me. "Did you just call Ethan, 'she'?"
"Yes," he admitted. "Get the door open."
I opened my eyes and looked up into Daddy's face. "I'm sorry," I said. I still felt weak and confused, my head hurt and I had a weird copper taste in my mouth.
"It's okay, sugar."
"Is he breathing all right?" Mom asked.
"I'm fine," I assured her. At least, my breathing seemed back to normal. "This is silly, Daddy, you can put me down now." But I lifted my arms and put them around his neck. He carried me down the short hallway into the living room and put me down on the couch. I relaxed and for a moment, I just lay there looking up at my parents.
"Why did you faint, honey?" Mom wanted to know.
"I'm not sure I can tell you," I said. "It took me by surprise, too." I didn't want to mention wishes or curses or fairy bells; it would lead to all kinds of confusion. If I had trouble believing in them when I had been an eyewitness and participant, how could I expect my parents to accept the existence of fairy magic? Besides, they already had an explanation they seemed to accept, an explanation that made me feel just as weird about myself as the idea of being the victim of a fairy curse. Have I always been a girl, I wondered, a girl victimized by some misguided surgery or did the magic alter the past? Either way, my life had gotten very weird in the last day or so.
"Stress," Daddy suggested. "I think you fainted because of stress. This has been pretty stressful. I'm sorry if anything I said made it worse?"
I shook my head, "No, Daddy." But it had been something he said; he'd made a wish.
Mom sat down beside me, "Can you sit up?"
I did so. She brushed at my hair. I sat with my knees together, it just felt right to do so. I left one hand in my lap and put my other arm around Mom, for comfort. "I had just told Daddy that I was going to give it a try?" I told her.
"Give what a try?" She frowned at Daddy, not at me.
I looked at her. "Being your daughter?"
"Oh, baby," she sighed. "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Sure as I can be." It still scared the crap out of me, but Daddy's wish didn't leave me much choice. I felt compelled to agree to the trial now. Maybe it was what I wanted to do, too, but how much did the magic have to do with that wanting?
"You're not just doing this to avoid the boys picking on you?"
"Uh, no. That's sort of a side benefit, though." I grinned a little shakily.
Mom looked up at Daddy then back at me. "Are you going to do this because...because you've been noticing boys lately?"
I put one hand over my eyes and shivered. "I think that might be part of it?" And that might be the weirdest part of all of this.
"Adventure? Novelty? Challenge?" Daddy suggested.
I nodded. "All that, and logic and practicality, too." I giggled at the absurdity. "You made a good case for giving it a go, Daddy." I shivered again. "I'm cold."
"Hmm," he said.
Mom glared at him. "You talked her into it on the drive up?" She went to the hall closet and took out my jacket again that she had just put away.
Daddy grinned. "No, I don't think I did. And you just used a 'her', yourself."
Mom sighed and gave me the jacket to wear, then a hug. Maybe the wish had made Mom more easily talked into this, too. "Well, okay," she conceded. "But this is going to take some getting used to."
"You're telling me?" I said. The jacket helped but it felt odd, too; it was a boy's jacket.
Mom laughed and Daddy smiled. He sat down on the other side of me and I wanted to hug them both at the same time but my arms weren't long enough. "What are you going to call yourself, punkin?"
I shook my head. "Parents pick names. And you already picked mine."
Mom sniffed. "Megan Alexis," she said.
"I thought it was Megan Elizabeth," Daddy said. "I meant to tell you that in the car, punkin."
"Ethan Alexander or Megan Alexis, that's what we decided years ago, Alec," Mom said.
"You sneaked that one by me," Daddy complained. "I thought we had agreed to Ethan Montgomery and then you used Alexander when you filled out the forms." Montgomery was Daddy's mother's maiden name.
"Ew?" I said.
"My sentiments exactly, honey," Mom said. We all laughed.
I couldn't imagine being named Montgomery, even for a middle name. And especially not now. "Uh, well if it wasn't completely settled..." I began.
"Do you want to go with Eden?" Daddy asked. "That boy already thinks that's your name?"
"Um," I said. "Two boys, I think." Dad's eyebrows went up. "Well, it would save some explanations." I squirmed a little.
"Eden Alexis?" asked Mom.
"Forget Alexis," said Daddy. "You give a kid two names so if they don't like the odd one they can go with the ordinary one. Two odd names defeats the purpose."
I giggled and rolled my eyes.
"Megan Eden doesn't sound right," Mom said. "Nor does Eden Megan."
"Two odd names again. How about Margaret Eden," Daddy suggested. "No, Maggie's name is Margaret." Dad's older sister, Aunt Maggie of the red hair.
"That's why we call our little Margie--Megan," said Mom, smiling at me.
Dad laughed. "Okay with me. Punkin?" he looked at me.
I gulped. "Okay, uh, Margaret Eden Bartlett? That's my name?" It felt so weird to say it the first time. I repeated it, "Margaret Eden Bartlett." I imagined answering a roll call, filling out papers with that name. It didn't feel as weird the second time.
"That sounds pretty, and I've used Margaret in a book," Mom said. "And that way we can call you Eden or Megan--it's really a nickname for Margaret--either one, and if we slip and call you Ethan, well, we'll just pretend we lithped." She grinned at me, then kissed me on the cheek. "My little Daisy."
"Daisy?" I squeaked.
"That's what Margaret means, it's--uh?--French, for Daisy."
"Don't call me Daisy!" I said.
Daddy laughed. "Okay, punkin. Is it going to feel odd for me to kiss you?"
"Probably," I admitted.
He gave me a light peck on the forehead. It didn't feel that odd, it felt nice. I don't think he had actually kissed me in four or five years. I gave them hugs in turn. "Thank you," I said. I think I might have shed a tear or two but just at that moment, the doorbell rang.
"Who the heck would that be?" Daddy asked. "It's after eight?"
"Megan's boyfriend?" Mom suggested.
"Omigod! Phillip! He said he would come by," I squeaked.
Daddy got up and started toward the front door and I ran for the stairs. Mom followed, calling back, "It's the backdoor bell, Alec. Ding, Dong, Ding. The front bell goes Dong, Dong."
"Oh right," Daddy said and reversed direction. "I wonder if it is him?"
Somehow, Mom and I ended up in Phoebe's room.
I didn't know what to do.
Mom asked, "What do you want to do?"
"I don't know!" I said. I had panicked. What did I know about how to be a girl?
"Well, he's only seen you in boy clothes, right?" She went to Phoebe's closet.
"Uh, yeah?" I said.
Mom started looking through tops and things. "Take off your jacket and shirt, both of them," she said.
My hands were trembling but I did so. Two little points grew on my chest when the cold air hit me. I dropped the jacket and both shirts on the bed. Having breasts felt weird, even small ones, but I had never imagined them feeling like big goosebumps.
I wanted to clasp my arms across my chest to hide them but before I could, Mom handed me a yellow top decorated with pink and blue flowers at the neckline and the short sleeves. It looked incredibly girly. "Put this on," she ordered.
I swallowed hard but pulled it on and turned to look in the mirror. The top fit very well, maybe Phoebe had left it behind because it was too small for her. I tried to adjust it a bit but nothing changed the fact that I looked like a girl wearing a girl's yellow pullover blouse which somehow just seemed right. It absolutely boggled my mind.
"Your hair is kind of short, honey," Mom complained. She took one of Phoebe's brushes and attempted to give a little shape to my boy's hair style. Luckily, I had resisted getting a haircut over the summer on the grounds that my head would need the extra insulation since we were moving to the mountains. And to me, it seemed as if my hair had grown two weeks worth in the last day or so.
The truth was, I'd always hated haircuts at the barber and going to the hair salon with Mom had been too embarrassing. I wondered what that would be like now?
"Do I look okay?" I asked when she seemed to be about finished.
She looked at my chest. "You...I?" she blinked. "You know, you really should be wearing a bra?"
"Yike." I commented.
She started going through the drawers in Phoebe's dresser. It had been moved from our other house with the contents pretty much in place. "Ah," Mom said, lifting something out. "One of Phoebe's old padded A-cups."
I made some sort of noise.
"Take off the top again," Mom ordered.
"But, you just fluffed my hair up," I protested. "Do I really need a bra?"
"Physically, no," Mom admitted. "But no daughter of mine is going to be seen with her itty-bitty-titties making tents in her blouse."
I coughed in embarrassment but pulled off the top. The bra was fairly plain, white with only a little lace inset on the cups. Mom showed me how to fasten it in front, turn it around, adjust the straps--and stuff a little extra tissue in each cup. "You'll fill out soon enough," she said. "Well, I guess you will? Hmm."
I felt sure that I would, that the magic would continue transforming me. If I didn't find some way of reversing all of the wishes, I'd probably end up as curvy as my sister. I felt my face burning again. Wearing a bra seemed strange and embarrassing but somehow appropriate and oddly made me feel more grownup. The padding made larger but smoother bumps in my new blouse when I pulled it back on. I poked one of the bumps gently, I could barely feel it, and I giggled when I saw Mom grin.
She rummaged around till she found some smaller panties in the dresser also. Pink ones with a lacy waist band. "Phoebe left a lot of stuff behind she probably should have thrown away. Her butt is too big for these, I'm sure. They belong to you now."
I stared at them.
"Megan!" Mom said sharply. "Take off those trousers and whatever you have on under them and put these panties on."
"You're not going to make me wear a skirt are you?" I asked.
"Not tonight," she grinned at me. "You wouldn't know how to avoid giving a free show. Now strip."
I did. I pulled the panties up, their cool silkiness so very different from boys' undies. What the magic had left of my maleness hardly showed once I had settled the pink panties in place. I gawked at the mirror, absurdly pleased at how I looked. My slender legs looked very girlish and the panties made them seem even more so. Someone giggled happily and I realized it must be me.
Daddy called from downstairs. "Megan! There's a boy here to see you!" He sounded as if he were enjoying himself and I wondered if he were giving Phillip a hard time.
Mom had laid out a pair of bright blue slacks and some fluffy socks on the bed. She looked my sneaks over and decided they would have to do. "Phoebe's shoes would be too big for you," she said. "Girl is only five-five and she wears an eight-double-A. Ski-foot. I hope those slacks aren't too long for you. Nor too big in the seat?"
I tried them on. The stretchy fabric didn't have to stretch much to fit me, so they worked well enough. I remembered that the last time Phoebe had worn them they looked as if they had been spray-painted on. On me they were simply snug, showing curves I hadn't really known I had acquired. I liked how I looked in them, slender but not a boy. I felt a bit dizzy with my own reactions.
Dad called again. "What's the hold up, up there?"
Mom scowled. "For gosh sake, what's he doing? He knows I'm not going to send you down looking like a tomboy!"
I giggled while putting the socks on, then slipped my feet into my sneaks and tied them quickly. My feet hadn't changed size, so they fit well enough and they didn't look anymore boyish than what a lot of girls wore. I wore a size four, narrow, and Phoebe was several inches taller than me, but size eight did sound like big feet. Bigger than I would have thought even when I found out the conversion between men's sizes and women's, later.
Mom had moved over to Phoebe's jewelry case. "Slim pickings here," she muttered. "Mostly one-of earrings and stuff with broken fasteners."
"Do I really need jewelry?" I asked. I stared at myself in a mirror and fiddled with my hair a bit.
"Yes, you do," Mom said firmly. "You should really wear at least two pieces of jewelry, not counting a watch, for any activity other than slopping the hogs." She sounded like she might be quoting her mother, my Grammy Lisle, who had grown up on a farm.
I giggled again while she fastened a gold-colored charm bracelet on my wrist. "I bought that cat's head for Phoebe myself, about four years ago," I said, fingering the charm. A teddy bear, a heart and a crescent moon kept the cat's head company. It felt very odd to wear pretty jewelry.
Mom looped a string of bright blue beads around my neck; they almost matched my slacks--Phoebe's slacks. "You'd better be careful when you unfasten this," she warned. "I'm using a small safety pin, instead of the broken clasp, but your hair is long enough to cover that sin."
"Megan!" Daddy bellowed.
"I'm going to kill him," Mom muttered, picking up the hairbrush again.
"He's a method actor," I said. My heart had resumed pounding or fluttering or whatever. I felt a bit queasy. Phillip was downstairs and he would see me and he thought I was a girl and I was about to prove it to him by the way I was dressed. Butterflies danced in my tummy and Daddy's cheerful enthusiasm made me even more nervous
"There's madness in his method," Mom muttered. She spritzed me with a dab of cologne, then searched through the cosmetics.
"What?" I asked. Phoebe's scent seemed to fill the room, flowers and a little musk and spice. I didn't sneeze so Mom must have been careful to pick one of the colognes she knew I wasn't allergic to.
She grabbed my chin. "Lipstick. Hold still." She did my mouth quickly, had me blot on a tissue and did it again. We looked at the result in the mirror.
The padded bra and the stretchy pants emphasized my new female shape. Lipstick, jewelry and fluffed out hair completed a look that might not be high fashion but surely did not look boyish. "Omigod!" I gasped, stunned at how I looked.
"You may be prettier than Phoebe," Mom said critically.
Maybe the oddest thing was that I didn't feel at all uncomfortable in the clothes, makeup and jewelry. It felt right in a way nothing else I'd ever worn had.
I did a little turn to see how I looked from the side. My padded bust stuck out enough to be noticeable but more than that, I felt surprised to realize something else. "I'm actually pretty?" I said, running my hands over my thighs to smooth my borrowed slacks.
"Margaret Eden Bartlett! Get your round little butt down here!" Daddy called again.
I closed my eyes. Daddy was treating me exactly how he had treated Phoebe; she'd always complained that he enjoyed embarrassing her and her boyfriends. "I'm going to kill him," I muttered.
Chapter 13
Meet the Parents
"What took you so long?" Daddy asked when he saw me at the top of the stairs.
"Daddy!" I complained. Just looking at me, he had to know what I'd been doing. But he was acting like...I don't know how he was acting? He baffled me.
"They'll never tell you," he said to Phillip. Then to me, "You look fine, punkin, but I still don't see what took so long."
Phillip looked up at me with the biggest smile I'd seen from him yet. It looked a little worn around the edges, probably from being left alone with my dad for almost twenty minutes. "You do look nice, Eden," he said.
I almost tripped, but managed to recover without having to obviously catch myself. "Thank you," I said. A hot bubble of anxiety threatened to burst inside me and flood the room with panicked giggles. The butterflies had grown as big as condors in my stomach.
"Phillip here tells me he asked you to go to a party on Monday," Daddy said, as casual as if such things happened every day..
"It's an afternoon party in Number Three, at the Atterberys', a neighborhood barbeque." Phillip explained. "And really, you're all invited, anyway?"
"Uh-huh." Dad said. "The invitation was in our mailbox this morning." He winked at me.
I got to the living room without falling on my face and looked up at Phillip. He seemed even taller than before, taller than Daddy. He had on a clean fresh shirt and his strawberry-blond hair gleamed.
Mom had followed me down the stairs. "Are we going to go, Alec?"
"Sure," Dad said. "I don't see why not. If Adam and Dannie show up, they can join us. The note from Mr. Atterbery says so. And Sean and Phoebe and whoever they might bring, too." Dannie was Adam's wife, about six months along with their first baby. I gulped, imagining having to explain what had happened to me to the rest of my family. Tomorrow? No, Monday, I would have another day to...well, maybe I could find the fairies and get all of the magic undone.
Maybe not. Maybe I would be stuck as a girl the rest of my life. I looked at Phillip and thought that possibility didn't actually sound terrible at all. It should, but it didn't.
"That's great, Mr. Bartlett," said Phillip. He didn't touch me, he just looked at me. I wondered that I wanted him to touch me; it didn't seem reasonable or sane to want such a thing.
"It's not a date," Dad said, looking at me. Then to Phillip, "Megan is too young to date, she's only thirteen."
"I'll be fourteen on the fifth of October," I said, startling myself.
"And you're sixteen?" Dad said to Phillip.
"Yes, sir. Uh, seventeen in February."
"Good God, boy, you're robbing the cradle here."
"Daddy!"
"And you must be a foot taller than our little Daisy," Dad went on.
"Don't call me Daisy!" I said.
Phillip looked a bit confused. "Daisy?" he said, looking at me.
"Don't start," I said. "I hate that nickname." I couldn't believe it when Dad started quacking. "Stop that!" I said. It took me a moment to figure out, why a duck? I wanted to throw something at him.
"Don't get smart with Megan's friends, Alec," Mom put in.
Daddy subsided with a grin. "Phillip's going to get to know us sooner or later, he only lives two doors down. The insanity in our family is all hereditary, son."
"It...!" I couldn't think what to say. No wonder Phoebe hadn't brought her boyfriends over very often. I used to think Dad's manic acts were funny but now I understood why she had said she felt like hitting him with something heavy.
"Alec!" Mom said. "Go to your room!"
"Yes, dear. All the women in the family are incredibly bossy, too." He sauntered off toward his den behind the stairwell. "Have we got any coffee, Vickie?"
"I'll make some," Mom promised, heading toward the kitchen. "Do you kids want a soda or something?"
They were leaving. Leaving me alone in the living room with Phillip. I took a deep breath and held it for a moment.
Phillip looked at my chest. "No, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett," he said politely.
Blushing, I just shook my head when Mom looked at me, then she left and I turned to walk toward the couch.
"I get it," said Phillip. "Daisy Duck. Is your Dad a stand-up comedian?"
"Uh, no? He's a sewer engineer."
Phillip made a noise that might have been a strangled laugh. "He's pretty funny." He recovered his cool quickly, I noticed, his face completely sober again.
I grinned weakly and flopped onto the couch, remembering to pull my knees together at the last moment. For a moment my brain disconnected while I tried to figure out why I felt I should keep my knees together. I didn't really need to, I wasn't wearing a skirt after all. But Phoebe always sat this way, especially if a boy were over.
I glanced toward Phillip. He was why I felt suddenly awkward, as if someone had put my joints together badly. Why should that be? I'd felt fine upstairs, even a bit graceful -- another odd thought.
Phillip sat near the other end, looking toward the kitchen and the hallway. "I guess I'd better not stay too long? Uh, are they serious about you being too young to date?"
I pulled my brain out a tailspin and managed an answer. "I guess so. No one's ever asked me before?"
"That's hard to believe." Phillip stared at me. "I thought you were cute earlier today when you were dressed like a boy, but really--uh, Megan?--you're much prettier now."
"Megan's what my folks call me," I said. "Uh...."
"Eden," he said.
I blushed but babbled on. "Yeah. I like my middle name, um..." Especially when he said it, for some reason. This just kept feeling weirder and weirder. Weirdest when it didn't feel weird but only exciting.
"I like Eden, too," said Phillip and gave me another of his secret smiles when I kept blushing.
The intensity of how I felt seemed suddenly overwhelming, I thought I might be going to pass out again. "I..I like you, too," I stammered.
"Group dates," he said.
"Huh?" My brain conjured up a palm tree with lots of hanging bunches--groups?--of dates. Stupid brain.
"We'll have to go on group dates, till they decide you're old enough? You know, like several couples or a school dance or something like that?"
Until I got old enough? When would that be? Would I still be a girl then? I shook my head. "I don't know. I'll have to find out?"
"Okay," he said. He stood up and held a hand out to me. I put my hand in his; it felt as if my pulse were right in my fingertips. He pulled me gently to my feet.
I looked up at him. I felt tiny and delicate instead of short and scrawny.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.
"Shopping? I think?" I don't know why that occurred to me suddenly, but it sounded like a good idea. I remembered something else. "Maybe having lunch with Dolly and Molly Hawthorne?"
"Maybe we'll see each other," he said. "I usually ride Roland around four."
"Okay." I know I smiled at him, I'm just not exactly sure why. At least, why that particular smile.
He gave my hand a little squeeze and turned to go. I guess I had thought he would kiss me and the disappointment I felt surprised me. It scared me, too. I wanted him to kiss me? This all seemed to be happening so fast. Could it be this easy to slip into thinking of myself as a girl? It had to be the magic.
I followed him through to the sliding glass back door. Mom smiled at us from behind the bar separating the kitchen and dining room and Phillip politely said to her, "Good night, Mrs. Bartlett."
"Good night, Phillip. We will see you on Monday, then?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said. Then to me, "Night, Eden." He smiled his gentle, quirky smile.
I felt as if my legs had turned to water but I smiled back and grabbed the edge of the bar to keep from falling down. "'Night. Phillip," I managed.
He stepped out into the night and I almost panicked. I had a sudden vision of squads of fairy archers and platoons of rabid raccoons waiting for him. The Fairy Queen had already demonstrated her jealousy, and there were bears and cougars in these mountains, would they obey her will? I started out the door after Phillip.
"Just close the door, Megan," Mom said sharply.
"But...it's dark out, he's...I...?"
"Don't chase him, for gosh sake, he's a big boy. He'll be safe, honey, let him go." She came around the corner of the bar to make sure I had closed the door. "You're not going to be boy crazy like Phoebe was at your age, are you?"
"I hope not," I told her honestly. I hadn't really been aware of a lot of Phoebe's activities five and six years ago but I did remember her getting grounded for three months once for staying out too long and coming home with hickies. My face burned because I suddenly imagined Phillip kissing me on the neck.
Mom gave me a hug. "Poor baby. I'm sure this is all more mysterious and confusing to you than it feels like to me."
"Uh huh." I didn't tell her about the image in my mind. Two days ago I would never have thought of such a thing. Or, was that really true?
She locked the back door while I staggered to a dining room chair and sat down. I tried to tell Mom about part of what had me so confused. "Mom, he really likes me and that is just super-strange?"
"Yes, I guess it is," she said.
"He...he wouldn't like me if he found out..." I murmured.
"Don't worry about it, dear. No one is going to know, watching you tonight--well, I have trouble believing we thought you were a boy all these years."
"Really?" What a strange thought and yet being a boy, growing up thinking I was a boy seemed just as strange. Stranger maybe.
Dad came through the hall and smiled at me. "He's a bit Wally Cleaverish, don't you think?"
"Huh?" But I knew who he meant from the re-runs on cable; the Beaver's older brother who always seemed so earnest and polite. Phillip did seem a bit like Wally. "I like him, Daddy," I said, sounding a bit defensive, probably.
"I noticed," he said drily. Then to Mom, "We'd better have a talk with her, quickly."
Mom nodded.
"Huh?" I said, probably sounding as stupid as I felt.
continued in [Circumstantial Evidence]
Read More [The Fairy King]
