There was no grumbling thunder, no blinding lightning flash of sudden rage. When it came, it was quietly, with the icy tendrils of a winter cold front. His face was a mask, his voice low and level, crystalline with rigid control.

“I can’t believe you’d indulge something like this, Linda. For one thing, isn’t he past dressing up? For another, even if he were, clothes is one thing, but to go all the way like this? And then to bring him out in public? What were you thinking?”

Frost formed in the pit of my stomach, spreading with each chilling word. I’d been afraid of something like this happening, but I’d allowed Mum to persuade me. These were the worst kind of fights. Like the Cold War, no shots fired, but carrying with them the very real danger of apocalyptic destruction. I wished fervently that my parents wouldn’t fight. Not like this. Most especially not like this.

This was a fairly typical start: Dad taking exception to something Mum had chosen to do, and telling her in the most reasonable tones just how unreasonable he thought she’d been. If the argument followed its usual pattern, Mum would respond by making some comment about how much time Dad spent at work, and if he was interested in his family, wouldn’t he make time to be with them?

I tried my hardest to shrink inside of myself, and willed with all my heart for Mum to be more reasonable in her response.

“I was thinking of our child.” Mum’s voice was calm, but it quavered slightly with the strain of remaining so. “David, please don’t take this as criticism, but you’re not as involved in being a parent as I am. I know you work hard to make a good life for us, and I know that means you have to make sacrifices, one of which is that you’re not at home as much as any of us would prefer. I choose to trust you in believing that’s necessary, even though it’s hard on us all. I wish you would trust me to know what’s best for Gerald, given that I’m the one who is there for him every day.”

I glanced at Dad, wishing the same with everything I had in me.

Dad opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut, biting back whatever retort he’d lined up. Most likely he’d had it in mind to defend his working habits, and it took him a moment to realise that he didn’t have to. He paused to replay Mum’s words through again, glanced over at me squirming in my seat, and expression on my face caught somewhere between dread and pleading.

“You’re right, Linda. I’m sorry, I have no right to judge a situation where I’ve had so little involvement. Perhaps we can start again, and this time I’ll kick off with what I should have asked in the first place. Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Mum looked at me, but I was too shocked at what I’d just experienced. My parents had never backed down from one of their ‘civilised conflicts’ as they referred to them. After a moment Mum shrugged and turned back to Dad.

“A few Saturdays ago, I was putting some things away and noticed that some of my clothes had been disturbed. Nothing much, just a pair of tights that was a little more stretched than usual, and a few underthings that weren’t folded quite right. I only had the one suspect, but I wasn’t overly worried. I believe it’s quite common for young boys to be curious about such things.

“Anyway, I decided to check on my suspicions, and last Saturday, instead of going to the shops, I left the house as usual, but then came back in quietly a few minutes later. I found our son wearing one of my dresses and a pair of heels.”

Dad quirked an eyebrow at me, but dressed as I was it would have been a little redundant to show any signs of embarrassment.

“I decided to teach him a lesson. You remember that hot pink catsuit of mine? The one I bought for that New Year’s party round at the Harrelson’s?”

“You put him in that?”

“I figured he would either be so mortified he’d never go near my clothes again, or…”

“Or?”

“Or he’d show us how serious he is. Or perhaps that should be she.”

Both my parents were looking at me now, and that did make me want to squirm.

I hadn’t really been listening to Mum. I mean I knew or suspected pretty much everything she’d been saying, so what was the point? My mind had been distracted by how readily they’d made peace without the usual winter of discontent. Then there was that thing Mum had said about what Spandexia’s powers might be.

I looked up into the intense gaze of both my parents and snapped back to reality.

“What?”

“How serious are you about these changes, young m… lady?” Dad decided to try out the new label. I felt a thrill course through me at hearing him say it.

“I told Mum,” I responded after a quick gathering of wits. “This makes me feel good. Sort of like… I don’t know. You know that stretch Mr Fantastic you got me for Christmas a few years ago?”

“I remember finding it stretched out between your desk and the window when you went back to school,” Mum said.

“That’s kind of like me. The Gerald me, that is. I can stretch and stay stretched out of shape, but when I’m like this, it’s like I’ve had a chance to relax. Does that make sense?”

Mum and Dad shared a glance.

“I know this is hard for you,” I continued. “It’s like when I unstretch into what I want to be, it stretches you out of shape. So I’ve got a choice. Either I can be unstretched like this, and learn to live with how it affects you and everyone else I know, or I can squeeze back into being Gerald, and things alright for everyone.”

“Except you,” Dad said.

“Kinda. But I’m used to being Gerald.”

“You don’t have to be,” Mum said, looking at Dad, who nodded his head.

“Your mother’s right, Ger… Svet… What was it?”

“Lana’s good, Dad.” I couldn’t hide the smile.

“Your mother’s right, Lana. We’re your parents, and it’s our job to do what’s right for you, even if it means we’re a little uncomfortable with it. Is that why you chose the name Spandexia? Because you feel stretched out of shape?”

“No, it was just a silly name. When I told Mum I was being a superhero, I was making stuff up on the fly. The dress and tights I was wearing were kind of stretchy, and the name just sort of sprang to mind.”

“So, you’re not really a superhero?”

“Of course not, silly. That was just pretend.”

“But you are a girl? You do feel like a girl? That’s not pretend.”

“I guess not. Yeah, I guess I do feel like a girl.”

“Well, I suppose we’re going to have to give this some serious thought then,” Dad said, earning brownie points with both Mum and me. “But not right now. I’m starving, and I suspect both my lovely wife and beautiful daughter are too.” And that won him the prize.

-oOo-

“Lana’s been asked out on a date tomorrow night,” Mum said over her carbonara. She timed it quite well. Dad was midway through washing down a mouthful of steak with his glass of wine. He managed not to spray it everywhere, but he did have a coughing fit.

“Run that by me again,” he said once he’d regained his composure.

“Mum took me to see a friend of hers who did my hair,” I said. “Her daughters a bit the other way to me. She did my nails, then she asked me out.”

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, you’re telling me that my son, who may really be my daughter, was just asked out by a girl who wants to be a guy?”

“That’s about the size of it.” Mum gave Dad a sympathetic smile.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if Gerald took this… what’s her name?”

“Jamie.”

“If you as Gerald took this girl, Jamie, out?”

“Maybe easier,” I said, “but she specifically asked to take Lana out. I don’t think she’s really into boys.”

“But you’re a… No scratch that. You really aren’t, are you? I look a you now, and I don’t see anything of my son, and it has nothing to do with the clothes, or the hair, or the makeup.”

I smiled at him, perhaps a little shyly, perhaps a lot cheekily. “Is like I say.” Okay, so maybe I was hamming up the Russian accent a bit. “Your son, he is on exchange trip to Germany. I am Svetlana Panin-Metzger. I take his place for time being.”

He shook his head and smiled back at me, perhaps a little ruefully. “Welcome to England, Svetlana. Would you like some dessert?”

-oOo-

I was stuffed. Which was actually a bit odd when I gave it some thought, because I hadn’t eaten any more than I would usually have done. I sat in the back of the car, with my parents up front chatting away, and looked out the window. Once again, when as we approached out neighbourhood, I saw a familiar figure walking down the streets. This time he had two of his friends with him, both a lot bigger than him. He looked up as we passed, straight into my eyes. I couldn’t see any sign of recognition in there, but there was something. A sort of discontented, low simmering rage. Something else that struck me as unusual. I don’t remember his nose being quite so long, or him ever showing his teeth. He said something to his companions, both of whom responded with cruel smiles.

“This area is really going downhill,” Dad remarked as we drove past Tom and his companions. “I probably shouldn’t judge on appearances, but it wouldn’t surprise me if those three weren’t responsible for the spate of vandalism we’ve had in the area.”

Whether judging on appearance or otherwise, I didn’t think Dad was far off. Tom was as unpleasant an individual at school as he appeared out here on the streets. As for his two goons. Not enough brains between them to operate a knife and fork, but they were easily led and made up for it in muscle. Tom was the yin to their yang. He saw the potential in them on his first day at school, and befriended them. The reason most people were afraid of Tom Marsh had less to do with his quick temper and wiry strength than it did with his tendency to respond to any challengers by ambushing them and siccing his two henchthings on them. There was a rumour that he’d even attacked a teacher after school one day.

No, if there was nemesis material for Spandexia out there, Tom Marsh was definitely the top contender, even without any of the backstory my overactive imagination had constructed for him.

Back home after a Saturday night meal out would usually have meant Ninboxstation time until bedtime, but I didn’t feel much like obliterating pixels. I asked Mum if there was anything I could do to help her. Sunday lunch was typically an all the trimmings type roast dinner, and she was in the habit of preparing most of it the night before. My question earned me a couple of pairs of raised eyebrows from my parents, but Mum wasn’t about to pass up an offer like that. We started off by transferring all the day’s purchases into my wardrobe, and laying out my outfit for the date with Jamie, then Mum suggested I change into something a little less dressy. I didn’t want to, but ten minutes later, I was glad I had given that I was up to my elbows in rubber gloves – to protect my nails you understand – pealing and slicing potatoes.

“So what’s brought this on?” she asked. “Not that I’m complaining, mind. It’s just…”

“Not usual?” I responded. “I don’t know. I don’t much fancy like playing games right now. This feels more sort of right.”

It took less than half the time Mum usually spent on it, and was actually fun. We didn’t chat about anything of consequence – nothing about my recent changes or how I was getting on at school – but focused on little bits of trivia. Mum wanted to know what I planned to wear for my date with Jamie, and we chatted through the different options. It was weird. Before Spandexia, I’d never really spoken to Mum, except maybe when I wanted something. I hadn’t spoken to her when I was lonely, or when I had things I was worried about. Now here I was talking about nothing in particular – well okay, my date with Jamie was actually quite a big deal – and I’d never felt more close to her. I felt I could tell her anything.

Once we’d finished with the preparation, Mum put the kettle on and made us all drinks. Dad was watching the news when we joined him in the living room. It had just switched to local news, and was reporting on yet another burned out car.

“That’s not far from where we saw those three kids on the way home.” He said as Mum settled next to him. “Do you know them, Ger… I mean Lana?”

“I don’t mind you calling me Gerald, Dad. I mean I’m still going to have to be him most of the time anyway. Yes I do know them. They’re not the nicest kids in school.”

“Should we call the police?” Mum asked.

“And tell them what? That we saw three kids a few roads over from where that car was torched? It’s hardly evidence.”

“Well, I hope you’ve put our car in the garage.”

Dad gave her a what-do-you-take-me-for look, and turned back to see what tomorrow’s weather might bring. It promised to be summery, which is to say sun if we were lucky, rain if we weren’t. Dad turned off the TV and suggested we all get an early night. There was no particular reason for it, but we’d all had a pretty long and eventful day, and a good night’s sleep wouldn’t go amiss.

“Besides,” and something of his usual twinkle was back behind the weariness in his eyes, “I know how you women are, and it’s going to take you the best part of the morning to get ready for your date.”

I threw a cushion at him, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.

-oOo-

I wanted to prove my dad wrong. I woke up early, but as I think I said before, I never beat my parents. I headed downstairs in my pyjamas – we hadn’t gone so far as to update my sleepware the previous day – and found my mum clattering about in the kitchen, with my dad already out in the shed doing something or other.

“Hello sleepyhead,” Mum greeted me. It was kind of a joke, because she knew how much better at mornings I was than pretty much any of her friend’s kids. “Breakfast?”

I managed a bleary smile. I mean, I was up. That didn’t mean I was fully functional. I do have hormones after all.

She paused on her way to the fridge and looked back at me.

“You look different,” she said.

I gave her a ‘well duh!’ look. I mean I did still have the spikey pixie cut that Lilly had given me, complete with coloured highlights. Admittedly, it was a bit tousled from the night’s battle with my pillow, but even so.

“No,” Mum insisted. “You look different from yesterday. You’re not wearing makeup, are you?”

“Where would I get makeup?” I asked. “And how would I know what to do with it?”

“I don’t know. I wondered if Jamie had given you something.”

“Jamie’s not exactly a makeup sort of girl, Mum. I mean, yeah, the nails and everything, but that’s hardly the same, is it?”

She had me curious though. I probed my cheeks and nose gently with my fingers for a moment before realising how pointless that was. I’m not in the habit of poking myself in the face, so I’m hardly likely to know what it feels like, am I? I left Mum transferring milk and OJ, cereal and other things to the kitchen’s breakfast bar, and headed for the downstairs loo.

She was right. The face that looked back out of the mirror was different. Not very, but just enough to notice. It was still very definitely me, but my eyes seemed just a little bit larger, and my nose smaller and more upturned. I kind of liked it; it was cuter than the face that usually greeted me, and when I smiled, I had dimples.

I never had dimples before.

Back in the kitchen, I downed a glass of OJ and a bowl of cereal without tasting much. Fortunately, taste wasn’t essential, and by the time I was scraping the pattern off the bowl, the carbs and sugar had started to kick in and I was functioning more like a human.

“Mum, did I ever have dimples?” I asked.

“Not that I recall,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

I smiled at her.

“Good grief. How are you doing that?”

I shrugged. “Kind of the usual way. Just reach for the happy place and let the corners of my mouth defy gravity a bit.”

“But you do have dimples,” she said moving closer to examine them. You didn’t yesterday.”

Again I shrugged. “I do now. I kind of like them. I think my nose is a little different too, and my eyes.”

She sat down next to me, visibly deflating. “How is this even possible?”

“Do you think maybe puberty’s catching up with me at last?”

“I have no idea. I wasn’t expecting these sorts of changes though.”

“What do you mean? What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Squeaky voice for a few weeks while you adapt, growth spurt, broader shoulders, a bit of body hair growing. Other stuff of a slightly less pleasant nature. I wouldn’t have expected an increase of cuteness.”

“Maybe I’m turning into a girl,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be the coolest thing ever?”

Her face suggested she didn’t share my enthusiasm.

“Sweetie…”

“It’s okay Mum. Just a fantasy. It would be cool though.” I couldn’t help the wave of sadness that washed over me. For just that moment, I really did wish for it to come true though. Maybe Jamie and I could swap a few more bits.

Jamie!

“Mum, I have to get ready for my date.”

“Yes you do, but it’s only half past seven. You have more than six hours before you’re due to meet up, and I doubt it’ll take you more than an hour.”

“But…”

“But nothing, dear. You need a shower, and you need to keep your hair dry while you take it. Lilly sorted you yesterday so that most of this will all wash out. That’s colour and style.”

“But how…?” I’ll say this for Mum. She always knows how to distract me.

“You can use one of my shower caps. I’ll hunt one out for you if you like. Give yourself a good scrubbing all over. You can use my shower cream for today. It’ll give you a bit more of a girly smell.

“Even if you do have the sort of girl genes that might cause you to hog the bathroom, I doubt it’ll take you more than thirty minutes to wash and dry yourself. Then you get to climb into your clothes, and you’ll be ready.”

“What about makeup?”

“For one, you don’t have any, and you wouldn’t look right in mine, even if I was happy sharing, which I’m not. For two, you don’t need any. You have a gorgeous complexion, and covering it with gunk will actually make it look worse. For three, if you think for one second I’m going to let you out of this house looking like a cheap tart, you have another think coming your lady.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll have to spend a little while restoring your hairstyle, but it’s not going to take more than an hour to get you ready, whatever your dad might think.”

“Oh.” Again. “Okay, so is there anything I can help you with?”

“Is your homework up to date?”

“I do have a bit, but it’s not due till Tuesday.”

“So get it out of the way. That way if something crops up tomorrow night that you’d prefer to do, you’ll be able to do it.”

“Oh.” For the third time. It all made sense. So, who says women can’t do logic? My mum rocks at it.

“I’ll find you that shower cap so you can wash and get dressed first. Don’t put on the clothes you’re going to wear on the date just yet though. You’ll want them to be fresh and unwrinkled.”

Like I said. Rocks at it.

-oOo-

Mum’s shower cream really was amazing. It didn’t just smell of coconuts and wild flowers, but it made my skin feel softer as well.

Washed and dried, I followed her advice and put on one of the other outfits she’d bought me the previous day. The material was softer and felt wonderful. Just wearing a skirt and top made me feel so much better than usual, which in turn meant that I didn’t even mind doing my homework.

Part of it was math, which I enjoy anyway. Usually it’s kind of easy, which makes it boring, but we were looking at quadratic equations, and I was already ahead of most of the class. Miss had given me some extension work to do for homework, which meant that while most of my classmates were still struggling with simple factorisation, I was using completing the square to work out problems that didn’t have neat answers. Miss had suggested I try to go as far as I could using surds, then only use my calculator for the last step. It was challenging, but I thought I’d figured out what she meant.

The other part was English, and creative writing. Two page essay on a subject of our choice. I, of courses, chose to pit Spandexia against the Mmosh Rat who was fire bombing a neighbourhood in an attempt to extort money out of them. I’d never been that happy with the Rat’s name. The double M seemed far too contrived, and made it obvious that it was an anagram. This time I had an idea, and gave him a stutter, which kind of fixed the problem. At least it did in my head.

I played with Mum’s idea of Spandexia being able to stretch reality. There always has to be a downside to superpowers though, otherwise it’d be too easy. The Superman stories would be thoroughly boring if there weren’t such a thing as kryptonite. I decided that Spandexia had to be careful how much she stretched reality. If she went too far, then it would snap back to something like what it had been to start with, only worse, so she was always careful to use her abilities as little as possible, and relied on her physical strength and dexterity more than her superpower.

I wrote the story to introduce her power. How she’d discovered it when things she wished for more than anything started coming true. How, when she realised what was happening, she tried to change the past so her parents weren’t in the courthouse when the bomb exploded. How for a few short, blissful minutes, she had her life and her family back, but then reality snapped back to the way it had been. It couldn’t sustain the new form, since with her parents alive, she had not reason to train as a vigilante, no reason to become as fit and strong as she was, no reason to stand up against the Mmosh Rat, who’s criminal empire had grown considerably without her to stand up to him. When reality snapped back, she was back to being her old orphaned self, but the Rat was far more powerful than he had been.

I guess I got carried away. By the time I was bringing the story to a close, it ran to about ten pages and Mum was knocking on my door to tell me it was lunchtime.

I ate slowly and carefully, much to Mum’s approval and Dad’s dismay. I hadn’t changed into my date clothes, but that was not reason to risk messing these up. Lunch was, as always, amazing, and I excused myself as soon after I’d had my obligatory piece of apple pie to finish.

I allowed myself a second quick shower to freshen up, and changed into the dress I’d chosen for my date. I wasn’t sure if I liked it as much as the minty green one from the previous day, but it was still really nice. It was a short – less than mid-thigh – beach dress in peach with a pattern or pink, yellow and blue flowers – roses I think. It didn’t have sleeves, but the straps were quite wide, and so both comfortable and effective at hiding the straps of my training bra.

Mum found me in her and Dad’s room, tugging at the hem of the skirt, and looking at my reflection from every angle, trying to convince myself it worked.

“You look gorgeous, sweetie,” Mum said to me, then steered me over to her dressing table and plonked me down on the stool, where she attacked my hair with the brush. It seemed unnecessary for her to brush it in quite so many different directions, but I sat patiently and endured until she declared herself done.

Once more, I was delighted with the results. I guess my concerns over my appearance had more to do with my hair than anything, because suddenly the dress was perfect. I smiled my newly dimpled smile and imagined Jamie falling head over heels in love with me.

Two minutes later we were downstairs waiting for Dad to get his shoes on. It was funny. He’d been looking forward to standing impatiently by the door waiting for us to get ready, and here we were – well, I was, I suppose – doing the waiting, while he had to dash about getting ready.

We had loads of time. Jamie and I had agreed to meet up at two-thirty at the shopping mall near her Mum’s salon. It was only a ten-minute drive away, and we had twenty, even once Dad finally sorted himself out.

-oOo-

Jamie had made an effort. It had probably taken her all of ten minutes to get ready, but she was wearing a clean tee-shirt and smart jeans. She looked good, and somehow… different.

“Yeah, Mum noticed too,” she answered my unspoken question. “It’s the nose and the eyes more than anything.”

“What happened?”

“Search me. Hormones and stuff, I guess, though not the changes I was expecting. I kind of like it though. Make me look less precious. I don’t plan to spoil it by overthinking it. You look amazing, by the way. I love the dress.”

“You can borrow it if you like.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Skirts and dresses are really not my thing. Even if they were, I doubt I’d ever be able to enjoy wearing that.”

“Why not?”

“’Cos I could never look half so good as you do right now.”

I dimpled up, blushing furiously.

“Life’s not fair sometimes,” she said. “You make such an amazingly beautiful girl, all I want is to be the guy you deserve.”

“You’re not doing so badly so far.”

“I take it you already ate lunch?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah. So what do fancy doing? There’s a bunch of films we could choose from, or we could hit the arcade, or dare I suggest shopping?”

The way she cringed when she said that, it was obviously not her thing.

“I’m about shopped out for now,” I said, enjoying her sigh of relief. “Mum and I blitzed a place a couple of miles away yesterday. I’m guessing Dad’s going to have to work late for a few weekends to cover Mum’s credit card bill this month.”

“Arcade, then? I hear you’re quite the gamer.”

“Not really feeling it today. Sorry. How about a film?”

“What do you fancy? I mean I don’t know there are any decent chick flicks on at the moment.”

“I was thinking more the latest Marvel offering if you haven’t seen it already.”

She grinned and we had a plan.

We joined the ticket queue and had made it halfway to the front when a familiar and unwelcome face appeared. Well three faces, strictly speaking, but only one that was truly unwelcome.

“Hey, J-J-Jamie,” Tom Marsh’s high pitched squeaky voice carried across the large foyer. “Does your g-g-girlfriend now you’re a g-g-g-g-girl?”

Beavis and Butthead sniggered dutifully.

“Oh no,” I said turning my back on the trio.

“Or is she a lezzer too?”

He was moving closer. He would recognise me if he got too close, and then life would truly be over. I willed him not to see me, not to see Gerald.

Bony fingers grabbed my arm and swung me round. “Let’s see w-w-w-what kind of girl l-l-little J-J-Jamie l-likes then, shall w-we?”

Up close, his nose really did look long, but it was more that the rest of his features seemed to have pulled back away from it, or maybe that he had pushed through his face so hard to reach the tip of his nose, that he’d left most of it behind. He had quite a significant overbite, and no chin to speak of, and his forehead sloped back to greasy, mousy brown hair. He looked down his lengthy proboscis at me, giving me the impression that he was sniffing at me.

“I know you, I’m sure of it.”

Please, no. I’m not Gerald. Please don’t see Gerald. I’m…

“You go to my s-s-school. Yeah, you d-d-do, d-don’t you?”

I squirmed in his grasp, but he held tight. I’m not Gerald. Don’t see Gerald. I am…

“You’re that new g-g-g-girl, aren’t you? That Russian g-g-girl with the f-f-funny name. S-S-S-Sv-something or other. W-w-what d’you see in this w-w-weirdo?”

“Please let me go,” I whimpered.

“W-w-why should I? I’d be s-s-saving you from this creep.”

I looked around for Jamie, but Tom’s goons were holding her back. Her face was a study in frustrated fury.

“Look, we were just going to watch a film together,” I pleaded. “Why can’t you leave us alone?”

“Hey g-g-guys,” Tom stuttered. “Sh-sh-she d-d-doesn’t like us. W-w-what sh-should we do about that?”

Bruiser one twisted Jamie’s arm. Her face contorted in pain, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. Probably better if she had though. Where were the mall’s security guards when you needed them?

“W-w-why don’t you come for a little w-w-walk with me, Russian g-girl? It w-w-would be a shame for your f-f-f-f-f-f-friend to get hurt.”

“Please, just leave us be.”

The queue had melted away. For some reason, no-one was coming to help us. I couldn’t give in to Tom. I had no idea what he had in mind, but if it involved exploring under my skirt, I was really up the polluted river.

“I don’t w-w-want to leave you alone. I w-w-want to w-w-work on my international r-r-relations.”

He traced a dirty, cracked fingernail down my face. My leg turned to jelly as a primal terror rose up inside me. I hated the way he made me feel.

“Please, we don’t want any trouble. Security will be here soon.”

“No they w-w-won’t. They know to l-leave me al-l-lone. L-l-last time they m-messed with me they had a bomb scare to deal with.”

The terror was gone. Like a flower in a furnace, it shrivelled and died, transforming into a raging fury as my mind’s eye relived an explosion in a courthouse a hundred miles and over ten years away. Something automatic in me took over, and I grabbed hold of the arm that held mine, spinning, crouching, pulling, using my weight to shift his. The move seemed so natural, and the Mmosh Rat flew towards a nearby stand of rubbish bins.

The two goons holding Jamie were too stunned to react immediately. I lashed out with a foot, catching one of them below the knee. He cried out and let go of Jamie, who took advantage of her freedom by swinging round and landing a left-handed haymaker squarely on her other captor’s nose. Tweedledum staggered back and tripped over Tweedledummer who was crouching over his smarting shin, and the two of them tumbled into a heap.

“Could be a good time to run,” Jamie said to me and grabbed my hand.

We were outside in the mall’s main atrium in seconds. There weren’t that many people about, given it was a Sunday afternoon, but we did find a couple of security guards. By the time Tom and his cronies had found their feet and followed us, we were over the other side of the mall, in full view of the uniforms. Whatever instructions they’d been given with regard to the three miscreants, they wouldn’t be able to ignore us being attacked right in front of their eyes.

Tom realised this and held his two stooges back. He sneered in our direction and drew a finger across his throat, promising revenge, then they disappeared off into the crowd.

“That wasn’t fun,” Jamie said, letting out a long sigh of relief. “Nice moves, by the way. Where did you learn to do that?”

“I don’t know. I was just kind of making it up as I went along. How do you know Tom?”

“He used to go to my school until he was chucked out a couple of years ago.”

“Oh. He goes to mine now. I was sure he was going to recognise me when he came over.”

“No chance of that. You look too much like a girl. Besides, the older kids don’t tend to pay much attention to the younger ones, unless they’ve decided to bully them.”

“He’s in my year though.”

“Really? He was a year above me in my school. I guess they made him repeat a year.”

That was possible, but there was something nagging in my mind.

“Did you hear what he said to me?”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t put it past him to actually plant a bomb in this place, not just phone in a scare. You know, I’d lay odds he’s behind all the firebombings we’ve been having. I heard at least two of the cars that were destroyed belonged to teachers.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean sure, he has to be prime suspect for all the unpleasantness going on around here. But he said he did recognise me. He said I went to his school, that I was the new Russian girl.”

“So what? Lucky guess is all. I mean do you have a Russian girl at school now?”

“Not that I know. Only…”

“Only what?”

It was too crazy. I couldn’t voice the idea that was bouncing around at the back of my head.

“Nothing. Shall we go see if we can still get into the film?”

“I didn’t think you’d still want to see it after that.”

“Of course I do. I’m not going to let a little upset like that ruin my afternoon. That would be like giving him power over me, and I’m not prepared to do that.”

-oOo-

So anyway, Doctor Strange really lives up to its name. Definitely on a par with Inception and the Matrix. Jamie and I walked away from the cinema complex later that afternoon, both of us deep in thought. She reached out and put an arm around my waist, and I leaned into her.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, more to fill the silence than anything.

“I was thinking about Tom,” she answered.

Mood killer much.

I pulled away and looked at her. She half grinned apologetically.

“He’s a kind of revenge-seeking sort of guy. I’m worried he might chuck a brick through my mum’s window or torch her car for what we did to him today.

“Oh. That probably means he might do something to us too.”

“Unlikely. He didn’t seem to know much about you. Certainly didn’t recognise you as, you know…”

I wasn’t totally mollified. I mean if he somehow had it in his head that I was Svetlana, maybe he had an idea who I was staying with. No, that was crazy. How could he think I was Svetlana? The only people who knew about me by that name were my parents, and maybe my English teacher if he’d got round to marking last week’s essay, and if – big ask – he’d decided it wasn’t the fiction it so obviously was.

“Could you call the police?” I asked, trying to focus on Jamie’s problem. I moved in and put my own arm round her waist. She put hers back where it had been. I leaned my head on her shoulder, only then realising that she was taller than me.

“And tell them what?” she asked. “’Hello officer, we had a run in with the guy we think is responsible for all the arson attacks. No, we don’t have any evidence.”

“I guess so. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. My bedroom’s at the back and Mum parks the car out front. She’s a light sleeper, so there’s no way I could sneak out in the night to keep an eye on things.”

“You could at least tell your Mum.”

“And what would that achieve? She probably wouldn’t need much convincing. Tom’s reputation was that bad, everyone at the school knew about him. But what could she do? I mean if he does come calling, all she could do would be call it into the police, and they’d take forever to respond, like usual. If he doesn’t, she’s had a sleepless night for nothing, and no guarantee that he won’t come tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fought him.”

“Don’t you dare apologise. He’s had it coming for a long time. And I guess if he does come calling, we can at least give his name to the police as a person of interest.”

“Yeah, but that won’t achieve much, will it?”

“What else can we do?”

“Maybe you’ll have a superhero watching over you tonight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. You have to believe in something though.”

“Superheroes are for comics, and halfway decent films. What did you think of Dr Strange?”

“It was kind of weird, but in a good way. Loved the CGI. And Benedict Cumberbatch. I could go for someone like him.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“I doubt it. He’s nearer my dad’s age than mine, and he’s way out of my league. He has amazing eyes though. So intense!”

“He looks weird though. Really thin face and those unusual lips.”

“You are jealous, aren’t you? That’s so weird. I’d have thought you’d be more into him than me.”

“Hey, there’s only one person I’m interested in right now, and she’s right next to me.”

I gave him a hug and we walked on to the bus stop in silence. Yeah, the pronoun choice is deliberate. I’d been struggling with it all afternoon, because Jamie’s as much a girl as I am a guy, which is to say physically not at all, though could pass with effort. Mentally and emotionally, well, complicated. He kind of uncomplicated it all with that last comment though.

He saw me back to my place. I didn’t want him to get off the bus since it would mean he’d have to wait for the next one or walk back to his place, and given it was Sunday afternoon, that probably meant walk. He insisted though, which was really sweet. We paused outside my front door.

“I had a great time,” I said.

“Yeah, just what every girl wants on her first date – a punch-up with the local thugs.”

“Hey, I had a great time despite that. Besides, it was kind of fun giving them a bit of their own.”

“I guess. I still don’t know where that came from. I mean the way you were all scared and stuff, I was ready to do anything to get out of that without making it worse, then all of sudden you went all icy cold and chucked him in the bins. It was way cool, but totally unexpected.”

“He said something that reminded me of something horrible. I suppose I reacted without thinking. Tell your mum I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Well, you know, if anything bad comes from this, it’ll be kind of my fault.”

“Hey, don’t start that again. If Tom decides to be unpleasant about this, it’s entirely on him, not on you.”

“You don’t throw rocks at a wasp’s nest.”

“Sure, but we weren’t looking for trouble, were we? He started the confrontation, and you know, to stretch your analogy, if people are being stung by wasps, then maybe someone ought to do something about the nest.

“Look, I’m sorry I bought it up. I’m kind of ruining this. Despite that run in with Tom and Co, I had a great time too. Would you like to do it again sometime?”

I melted a little on the inside. My voice, when it came, was a little short on breath.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Maybe see if we can go somewhere where we won’t be disturbed.”

“That’d be really nice. Do you want to come in for a bit? I’m sure Mum and Dad wouldn’t mind.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll take me a while to get home, so I should get going.”

“Dad would run you back.”

“And my mum would have words to say about that. I’ll call you.”

“Okay. You might find that a little difficult though.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t given you my phone number yet.”

“Mum has your mum on her books though. Of course, if you want to give me your number…”

I pulled out my mobile and brought up the number. Jamie typed it into his then sent me a text to make sure it worked – and to give me his number. He reached in and kissed me while I was adding him to my contacts.

“Hey!” I said.

“What?” He stepped back nervously.

“Wait till I can give you my full attention please.” I finished what I was doing with the phone, put it back into my bag and reached two arms around his neck. “Now try again.”

-oOo-

Mum wanted to know why I hadn’t invited Jamie in. Dad wanted to know what I’d been thinking, letting a girl walk home alone. Apparently, it was all very well my pretending to be a girl, but when it resulted in me putting a friend at risk…

I endured all of thirty seconds of Dad’s lecture mode before running upstairs in a flood of tears. Less than a minute later, I heard the front door close and our car start up.

It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t I be the girl? Why couldn’t Jamie be the guy? That’s what we both wanted. Besides, what did Dad expect from me? If I had walked Jamie to his front door, then it would have been me walking home alone, in a dress.

There were times when I hated my parents. I mean okay, Mum hadn’t done anything wrong, but when your hormones do the fighting, logic is usually one of the first casualties. I sobbed into my pillow and wished I really was the orphaned Svetlana, here on a privately arranged exchange.

Mum knocked on the door at one stage, but I didn’t answer. I felt the door open and heard her say something very quietly. I kept still and didn’t respond. I had no real desire to speak to her or anyone else just then. Mum closed the door and left me to my tears.

It was over half an hour later when the door opened again. This time it was Dad, and he wasn’t quite so wary as Mum. I felt him sit on the bed, but I wasn’t in the mood to respond. If he wanted to talk, he was going to have to work at it.

“I apologise, Svetlana,” he said. “I let me anger get the better of me. I hope you understand, the streets around here aren’t that safe at present. There have been acts of vandalism all over the neighbourhood. Now I’m sure someone like Jamie is quite capable of handling any unpleasant situation, but there’s no reason to go looking for trouble. In the future, would you please allow me to drive any of your friends home? At least until this unpleasantness has settled a little.”

I lay still and let the silence stretch until it felt awkward. So did Dad. Like I say, it’s his superpower.

“Okay,” I said quietly, not quite muffling my words in my pillow.

It was enough. I felt Dad’s weight lift of my mattress. He paused at the door.

“Dinner will be in half an hour, in case you’d like to freshen up before you come down.”

He closed the door quietly.

-oOo-

Dinner was a light salad. Nothing special after the lunchtime roast, and it wouldn’t’ have taken much effort to put together. I managed not to feel guilty about leaving Mum to put it together by herself. After all, I didn’t usually as Gerald.

Mum tried to make light conversation, asked about our afternoon. I told them about our confrontation with Tom Marsh and his friends and gave Dad the perfect opening to give me an I-told-you-so lecture. Mum tried to warn him off with a look, but he wasn’t listening.

I gave him a minute this time before abandoning my half-eaten salad.

Mum came up ten minutes later with a cup of tea and a slice of cake. She found me laying out my Spandexia costume.

“What are you doing, dear?”

I must have looked guilty because she called down to Dad, who appeared in my doorway just a few seconds later. You could tell from his expression he wasn’t best pleased. I steeled myself, preparing for the full onslaught.

“I can’t say I like the idea of your going out, Svetlana, but I suppose it is why you’re here. Don’t forget, you need to be in school tomorrow, so don’t stay out too late.”

What?

I thought he’d been using my girl name as a way of trying to reconcile things, but after all his lectures, here he was, ready to let me go outside into our currently dodgy neighbourhood wearing my hot pink catsuit. Was this some kind of weird parental lesson he was trying to teach me?

He disappeared from the doorway to be replaced by Mum who offered me her old nurse’s cape. It was a dark navy blue with a dark red lining and would reach down below mid-calf on me.

“Mum?”

“It’s alright dear, you don’t have to pretend when it’s just the three of us. I wondered if this might help a little. That costume of yours is going to stand out a little otherwise, and I’m sure you’ll appreciate having some help keeping hidden in the dark. It’ll keep you warm as well. The evenings are a little chilly at the moment. Do please keep your phone on you, won’t you? And let us know if you need us.”

I took the cloak and watched, dumbstruck, as Mum backed out the door. What on Earth was going on?