Brett O’Connor insisted on kneeling down before Zoey to remove her skates, even though she said she could do so herself.

“I want to,” the boy said. “It was really fun today. I like you.”

Oh my, Zoey thought. Was this boy wanting me to be his “girl,” even though Zoey really wasn’t a girl, but, in reality, was Tommy Lundstrom, his longtime playmate? She didn’t know what to say.

“Brett, you’re so nice,” she finally said. Zoey, in fact, was overwhelmed with the idea that she was in the eyes of everyone in the changing room at the park a most pretty young girl.

Brett struggled a bit to loosen the ties, which had picked up ice and were slowly thawing out. As he did so, his hands lightly caressed the shins of her leg, sending shivers up to Zoey’s thighs. Once outside, after removing their skates and putting on their boots, Brett turned to Zoey and said, “Let’s go to Paul’s for hot chocolate or something.”

“Isn’t your mom coming here to pick us up?” Zoey asked, seeing her breath coming out in a frozen fog in the bitter cold.

“No, I told her I’d take you to Paul’s. Is that OK?”

Zoey was horrified. Paul’s was what Wisconsinites called a “custard stand,” easily the most popular place in town for teenagers. It specialized in serving frozen custard, a smooth ice cream confection that was consumed by the tons in the Upper Midwest area. Paul’s also offered hamburgers, hot dogs and other goodies. There certainly would be classmates there who’d wonder who that “girl” was with Brett.

“Maybe we should just go home,” Zoey said, hoping to cut short this adventure as a girl.

“Come on, Zoey, please,” Brett said. “I bet you’re hungry, I know I am. Mom gave me a ten-dollar bill to treat you.”

“You don’t have to,” she said.

“Don’t you like me?”

Zoey’s concern grew. This boy was definitely developing a crush on her; how could she ever tell him that the object of his affection was none other than his friend, Tommy?

“Don’t you?” Brett persisted.

“I like you, Brett,” she said finally. “But, I feel I should go home.”

Brett looked down-hearted and Zoey finally felt the cold arctic air begin to chill her. Paul’s was only a short block away and the warmth of the place seemed to be most welcoming.

“We’ll have to walk down there anyway, ‘cause that’s where mom is picking us up.”

Seeing Brett’s disappointment, Zoey felt sorry for him. He had truly treated her to an enjoyable day of skating and she felt to turn down his invitation would be selfish on her part. Her concern about being recognized in Paul’s began to weaken; after all no one had thus far saw her as anything other than a girl named Zoey.

“I’m cold,” she said. “Let’s go to Paul’s. I could use a hot chocolate.”

*****
Just as she feared, it seemed the entire 7th Grade of Douglass Middle School was assembled within the steamy confines of Paul’s Custard De-lites. In truth, there were maybe a half dozen of her’s (Tommy’s) classmates, still too many to be assured that one of them might uncover her real identity.

Brett held her hand as he led her to what appeared to be the only empty table in the place. It was located directly in the traffic lane taken by many of the customers as they picked up their food and drink from the counters.

“We can sit here, Zoey,” Brett said. “You sit and hold the table while I get our hot chocolate, if that’s what you want?”

She nodded in the affirmative, and chose a chair that would keep her back to most of the restaurant, hoping to avoid notice. She kept her hood on, hoping to further make it difficult for anyone to see her face. Zoey kept looking down at the table, examining several crumbs that likely had been left from a previous customer. She wished Brett would hurry up with their drinks, but realized there had been a long line of customers waiting to place and get their orders. She merely kept her face down, merely mumbling that the seats at her table were all taken when several customers stopped by looking for a place to sit in the crowded custard stand. While she waited, her mind considered the quandary of how and when to tell Brett that she was not what she appeared to be. There didn’t appear to be any time when they’d be alone, and then she feared that her confession might cause Brett to get mad and become violent, perhaps even beating her up.

“Hey, Zoey, here I am, finally,” Brett said, placing a steamy hot chocolate in front of her, accompanied by two large sugar cookies.

Zoey looked up to, not only seeing Brett sitting down in the chair next to her, but two other kids, a boy whom she recognized as Jose Gomez, a boy in many of her classes at Douglass, and a girl about the same age that she didn’t know. They tookd the two other chairs at the table.

“I hope you don’t mind, Zoey, but Jose and his girlfriend, Maria, couldn’t find a place to sit so I said we had two extra places at our table,” Brett hurriedly explained.

Zoey kept her head down and mumbled a “hi.” She didn’t dare look at Jose, since she was certain he’d recognize her as Tommy; the two had shared numerous classes together and Jose was one of the few boys that Tommy ever spent time with. In fact, he had liked Jose, who in spite of his popularity and athletic skills, had been friendly with the more awkward Tommy.

“Why so shy, Zoey?” Brett asked. “She certainly wasn’t shy on the ice today, Jose. You should see her skate. Really hot. I could hardly keep up with her.”

“You must really be good,” Jose said, smiling. “I’m on Brett’s Youth Hockey team.”

“Take off that hood, Zoey,” Brett commanded. “You can’t still be cold. It’s boiling in here.”

Zoey continued to look down and when she didn’t remove the hood, Brett reached over a took it off her head. He also removed her wool cap, exposing her hair and face.

She looked up, first toward Jose, whose face quickly got a confused look, and then toward Maria, a dark-complexioned girl with a round, cute face. Realizing that Jose may have found something familiar in Zoey’s face, she turned her attention to Maria.

“Where do you got to school?” she asked, when she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Aquinas. I’m in 7th,” the girl said.

“Where’s Aquinas?” Zoey asked. “I’m not from here.”

“It’s not far from here,” Maria said. “I know Jose from my church. Where’s you from?”

Zoey replied that she was a cousin of Tommy and Tonya Lundstrom, visiting from Illinois.

“Zoey’s really good figure skater,” Brett interjected.

“Really?” Jose said, his interest in the pretty girl increasing.

“Well, I took lot of lessons,” she said. “They have a really good skating program in my town.”

“You should take it up professionally, Zoey,” Brett said.

The conversation paused as the four began to drink their confections. All the time, Zoey noticed Jose looking at her, as if to examine her. increasing her worry about being recognized.

“You look so familiar, Zoey,” Jose said.

Zoey was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“Well, she is a cousin of Tommy and Tonya,” Brett volunteered. “Of course, there’d be some resemblance.”

“Of course, that’s it,” the boy agreed.

Brett turned to Zoey and looked closely at Zoey, his face showing puzzlement. “Yeah, Zoey, you look so much like your cousin Tommy.”

Zoey reddened for a moment, fearful she’d been outed. “Yeah, since Tommy and I are the same age, people often wondered if we were twins,” she said.

Brett laughed. “Well, anyway, you’re prettier than Tommy.”

Soon, the two boys were talking about their youth hockey team’s upcoming game, taking their attention away from the two girls. Zoey and Maria sat quietly for a few minutes, becoming bored with all the sports talk.

“Jose likes hockey so much,” Maria said, leaning over to Zoey.

“So does Brett?” Zoey said.

“I don’t like it too much. How about you?”

“Me neither. It’s too rough. But I love figure skating.”
“That’s a cute outfit you go on. Where’d you get it?”

Zoey smiled, telling it was her mother’s and that her mother had been a good figure skater when she was younger.

“My mom won’t let me put on lipstick, yet,” Maria said, “But I sometimes put makeup on over at my girlfriend’s house.”

“I know. My mom says I gotta be 15 before I get makeup on, except for special family outings, like church,” Zoey agreed, feeling comfortable in engaging in girl talk. She found it easy to create fictions in which she was living a girl’s life.

“My mom won’t let me date. Says I’m too young. She doesn’t know I’m here with Jose. But your mom’s letting you date? Right?”

“Not really, but my mom’s not here. She’s in Illinois and she doesn’t really know about my skating with Brett,” Zoey said, embellishing the false story she was telling about herself. “We’re not really on a date, anyway.”

“He seems to like you.”

“Maybe, but tomorrow I’m back to Illinois.”

“Too bad for Brett that you’ll be gone. He seems to be treating you like his girl.”

“Nah, he’s already got a girlfriend, I learned.”

“I know Dede’s hot for him,” Maria said “But I don’t know if he really likes her that much. Besides you’re prettier.”

Zoey blushed. She loved the attention she was getting and to be told that she was “pretty” and “prettier” than some other girl was mind-blowing. How wonderful it was to be a girl, so much better than the drab life than she led as Tommy. Yet, she knew her time as Zoey must soon end.

The two girls continued their chattering, Zoey growing pleased with the easy friendship she was making with Maria. They talked about the classes they took in school, Zoey being careful to fictionalize her own experiences as being based in an Illinois middle school. They giggled over an outfit that an overly made-up mid-teen wore as she walked by their table. They found a mutual enjoyment of American Girl dolls, Zoey remembering the joy she had in playing with the one American Girl doll that her younger sister Tonya had.

“Darn,” Brett said, interrupting the conversation. “Mom’s here. We gotta go, Zoey.”

The four said good bye to each other and as Zoey and Brett turned to leave, Maria grabbed Zoey’s arm, stopping her. “This has been fun. Too bad you’re leaving tomorrow, Zoey.”

“I know. Nice meeting you.”

“Can I have your email address? Maybe we can chat sometime.”

Zoey felt a moment of fear; how could she give the girl her email address? It was [email protected], and would obviously give away her true gender.

“I don’t remember it,” she said, probing her mind for a good reason why she wouldn’t know her own email address.

Brett looked in surprise. “How can you not know your own email address?”

“Well . . . ah . . . our computers got hacked at home. My dad’s setting up new addresses for all of us,” Zoey said, happy that she could come up with a story that might be believed.

“Wow, that’s too bad, Zoey,” Maria said. “Let me give you mine and then when you get your new address you can email it.”

“I can write it down for you, Zoey,” Jose said, finding a stub of a pencil in his pocket. He reached for a napkin, wrote down the address on a napkin and handed it to Zoey.

She looked at the address and said, “Hmmm! [email protected]. Your address fits you perfectly, Maria.”

“Zoey, maybe your new address could be [email protected],” Brett volunteered.

“Yeah, that would be perfect for you, Zoey,” echoed Jose.

Zoey knew she should be pleased with the praises she was getting; instead, she was overcome with the fact that she had created a pretty teen girl that didn’t exist. She had told so many lies about herself that she’d never be able to explain, fooling a boy who had long been a friend. Her mother had told her that she must tell Brett the truth, and she realized her mother was correct. The question was how and when could she break the truth to Brett.

“Come on Zoey, mom’s waiting,” Brett said, taking her by the arm. The boy had obviously been taken with Zoey, and escorted her carefully through the crowded restaurant, acting like a young gentleman with his pretty date. He even insisted on carrying her skates along with his.

Brett helped her in entering the O’Connor SUV, as a gentleman should do, saying “Hi, mom.”

“You two have a good time?” Mrs. O’Connor asked.

“The best, mom.”

“It was great, Mrs. O’Connor,” Zoey said.

“She’s such a good skater, mom.”

As the car left the restaurant parking lot, Zoey pondered when she could find time to be alone with Brett in order to tell the truth and expose herself as Tommy in a girl’s outfit. She was fearful that there would be no such opportunity before they got dropped off, she at the Lundstrom house and he at his own place.

“By the way, Zoey, your cousin Tonya is over at our house with Melanie and I thought you’d like to join them for pizza. I was going to order out.”

“OK, Mrs. O’Connor,” she said, finally coming up with an idea as to how to reveal her true identity.

*****
After they entered the O’Connor home, Brett left the three girls in the living room to go to his room and change out of his skating outfit and Mrs. O’Connor moved into the kitchen. Zoey gathered Melanie and Tonya and said in a low voice, “Look, you gotta help me tell Brett that this Zoey thing was all a lie.”

“Why us?” Tonya argued. “You did it and I knew you wanted to do it.”

“But you talked me into it.”

“You loved it, Zoey,” her sister said.

“But we egged him on,” Melanie argued.

“Help me, Tonya,” she pleaded.

“Maybe, but it’ll cost you,” Tonya replied.

“Don’t be so mean,” Melanie said to her friend.

“We’ll see.”

“Please.” Zoey began to cry.

They three heard steps on the stairs as Brett bounded into the room, wearing tight jeans and a red sweatshirt, emblazoned with the stark serif lettering “WISCONSIN.”

“Why you crying Zoey?” he asked. “Didn’t we have fun?”

“Yes, Brett, we did,” she replied, stifling the tears.

“Here, wipe your tears,” the boy said, reaching for a tissue from a nearby box and handing it to her. His attention to the needs of the crying girl were moving.

“Brett, we have to tell you something,” Melanie said. “And we don’t want you to get mad, brother.”

Zoey looked at the girl, pleased that she was taking the lead in exposing him, but worried about Brett’s response. He was a strong boy and if he became angered might lash out and hurt Zoey for her deception.

“Brett,” Zoey said, her voice faltering. “I’m not who you think I am.”

Brett look confused for a moment, and before Zoey could say anything further. He blurted out,
“Oh no! You’re Tommy, aren’t you?”

Zoey nodded.

“But, how could you? You’re . . . oh my . . . you’re so . . . ah . . . a girl.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t know. You lied to me. You fooled me. But, really, you’re such a girl.”

“Don’t get mad at Zoey . . . I mean . . . Tommy,” Melanie said. “This all started as a dare when we caught Tommy dressing in his mom’s clothes and saw how pretty he looked. We forced him to dress up totally since we said he looked like a real girl.”

“Yeah, we wanted to see if we were right, that you’d think Tommy was a girl,” Tonya said. “It was all a joke.”

Zoey stood be silently, worrying about what would happen after the revelation. She also wondered why Brett finally saw through the disguise.

“I didn’t suspect anything until Jose mentioned the similarity between Zoey and Tommy, but that seemed OK at first,” Brett said.

“I’m sorry, Brett,” Zoey said.

“Do you like being a girl, Tommy?”

“Kinda. It was fun today.”

“Well, I like you as a girl,” the boy said, smiling.

Mrs. O’Connor poked her head into the living room and yelled, “Pizza’s ready, boys and girls.”

Brett reach over and took Zoey’s hand to lead her into the kitchen. He pulled a chair and politely held it for her as she said down, doing so in a dainty, feminine fashion.