Rio is a boy, just ask and she'll tell you it's true

We finally found Naomi's van. She hadn't parked it in the near lot after all. Monica and Jennifer played Roshambo for who got shotgun, and Monica won, of course. She always wins that game. It's like she really can read minds or something.

Jennifer got in the back with Gwen and me, the two shorties, but she took the very back seat and sat sideways, pouting a bit. Still annoyed at losing the shotgun seat, I guessed. She pulled out her phone again, and from the sound of it was playing some bubble-bursting game on it.

Naomi maneuvered the van through the student lot, where people mostly parked wherever instead of there being lines drawn. Part of it wasn't even paved, but it wasn't raining, at least. "Why is it called Roshambo?" she asked. "Rock-Paper-Scissors makes sense as a name."

"It's from some old Japanese movie, 'Roshambo, Mon Amour.' It's about these two French guys on a desert island, and they have to decide who gets to eat who by playing the game," Monica told her. She had her phone out, too, but wasn't looking at it.

"Huh," said Naomi. "I never knew that."

"You still don't," I said.

"Shut up, Brooke," said Monica, then we all laughed, but I wasn't sure why I was.

"What's with 'Brooke?" Jennifer asked from the back seat. "I thought your nickname was Rio?"

"It is," I said, but Gwen talked over me.

"Rio means river in Spanish," she said, "and Mr. Finson--"

"Hinson," I said.

"--Mr. Hinson says she's not big enough to be a river--she'll have to be a Brooke."

More laughter.

"Ha, ha," I said.

"And she's got him, like, twisted around her fingers, cause he, like, changed her grade to give her an A on the assignment."

I couldn't deny that--well, the pronoun part, I could. But instead, I said, "He made me stand up for almost half the period, and he called me Miss Russell cause he can't say Riordan--which isn't hard to say, it's just hard to spell. And he's a pig cause I caught him staring at my ass!"

"Well, Brooke," said Monica, as if it were a perfectly reasonable thing to say. "You don't have any tits to stare at." And she used her phone to point at my chest.

"Argh!" I said while they all laughed again. I did have little boobies all wrapped up in a stretch bandage, but only my Mom and my doctors knew about those.

"You are pretty flat-chested, Brooke," said Jennifer. "Just saying--it ain't no bad thing."

"I'm a guy!" I protested. "Everybody keeps forgetting that." More laughs, like that might have been the funniest thing I had said all day.

But Jenny looked puzzled, and I remembered she was a late addition to our group and hadn't been with us all semester, so maybe she didn't know I was a boy. I poked Gwen, "Tell Jennifer I'm a guy," I said.

"Oh," said Gwen. "Brooke is totally a guy--I've seen her dong. It's like, huge!" Naomi stopped the van, she was laughing so hard.

"Argh!" I said again.

When they all stopped laughing, Monica put in, "No, my sister works with her at the Swedish coffee place. She really is a guy," she reached back over the seat and slapped me on the knee. "Aren't you, Brooksie?"

I nodded, then shook my head. Brooksie?

"Which is it?" asked Jennifer. "Are you one of those transboys, a girl who wants to be a guy?"

"No," I said. "I'm a boy, I just... It's not easy to explain."

"So you pee standing up? Hey, I've seen you in the girls' restroom."

Well, I didn't pee standing up--that would get messy because of my penis being short and kind of odd-shaped with pee coming out of it backward. But I wasn't going to mention that either.

"Look at her," said Gwen. "If she went into a boys' bathroom, what do you think would happen?"

Jenny answered right away. "They'd throw HER out or beat HIM up."

I'd actually been thrown out of more boys' bathrooms than I'd ever used at high school. I sighed. But I hadn't been beaten up even once. They laughed at me when I tried to tell them I was a boy and that hurt.

"Well, it's confusing, you guys keep saying 'she' and 'her,' and I'm not sure someone isn't pulling my leg," Jenny protested.

"It's just easier," said Naomi. "We don't want the guys to know she's not a girl."

"None of the guys know?" Jennifer asked.

She got four shrugs, including one from me, in answer.

Naomi had reached the street and was looking both ways. "Hey guys, where do we wanna go eat? I'm hungry."

"Uh," I said. "Can we go by my place? I need my dark glasses, and I left them in my backpack."

"C'mon, Brooke," said Monica. "You know you don't have enough food in your house to feed all five of us."

"I've got a pair of sunglasses you can borrow," said Jenny. "But, uh, you know you're wearing girls' glasses now?"

"They were practically free. Some charity keeps bins of them and an optician to sort them by prescription, so they gave me these for like, three dollars."

"They probably thought you were a girl, too," said Gwen.

"I guess," I admitted.

"So, Perky's okay with everyone?" Naomi asked. No one objected, and since Jenny was handing me a pair of dark glasses, I didn't really need to go by my house. Naomi pulled out and headed away from the freeway.

I took off my prescription glasses and put on the sunglasses Jenny offered. "Thanks," I said. "I get terrible headaches from the sun, even behind clouds." Now everything looked slightly blurry, but I felt safer. The glasses were cat's-eye shape with hot pink frames, but I refused to cringe. I put my other glasses in my coat pocket.

"They might get broken there," Jenny noted. "You ought to put them in your purse." She looked around. "Where is it?"

"I don't have a purse," I explained.

"You don't carry a purse? Why not?"

"I'm a guy, remember?"

"That's...ridiculous." She threw up her hands. "I give up."

*

Perky's is an all-day breakfast place and serves lunch stuff at breakfast, too. So everybody could get whatever they wanted. All I ordered was water, thinking about Mom having to buy a car, but it turned out I was the only one who had had any breakfast at all, even if it was only half a banana.

Everyone else ordered big meals, and when the food came, I ended up with a spare plate loaded with an odd assortment of things--some french fries, an onion ring, a slice of tomato, and a wedge of french toast. I wasn't sure I could eat all of it, but it smelled good, and I wanted to try.

Perky's onion rings are huge--six inches across and almost two inches thick, an order is only three of them--and they are best when they're hot, so I started on that first.

"How many people at school know Brooke's secret?" Jenny asked. Four shrugs, again including me. She sighed. "I can't believe I've been hanging with you guys for two months and did not know this."

"You're convinced now?" asked Gwen. We were in one of the big booths, Jenny and Naomi on one side and us three shorties on the other, me in the middle.

"I guess," Jenny admitted, looking at me.

"Aw," said Monica in a fake hillbilly accent. "We was just funnin' you."

We all laughed so hard the manager stared at us for a minute before deciding we were harmless. I waved at him, and he smiled at me.

Gwen poked me. "Look at her," she said to the others. "She just charmed that stuffed shirt over there with a smile. He must be forty."

Monica poked me on the other side. "Hey, leave some guys for us to flirt with, why don't you?"

"Stoppit, stoppit!" I said. "I'm ticklish!"

"We know," said Monica, but they only poked me once more each.

It took me a moment to catch my breath.

"So, look," said Jenny. "This is stupid."

Gwen nodded as if she understood what Jenny meant.

"I mean, look at yourself, Brooke," Jenny went on. "No one thinks you're a guy. I bet you get hit on as much as any of us. More because you really are pretty. And those eyes. You're a girl. You were obviously meant to be a girl."

"Huh?" I said with a piece of tomato in my mouth. I'd eaten half of the French toast wedge with syrup and wanted to get the sweetness out of my mouth.

"It doesn't seem to bother you most of the time. Everyone calls you 'she' and 'her' and 'Miss Russell' and now you've got a real girl's name--Brooke."

"Not my idea," I pointed out. The fries looked good, but I was kind of feeling full.

"I know, but you're not throwing a fit about it," she said. "You're not screaming at people or telling them you hate them for treating you like a girl."

"Huh?" I said. "Why would I do that?"

"Brooksie isn't like that at all," said Monica. "She's a sweet girl."

"Argh," I said, rolling my eyes. "Monica, you're not even trying to help."

"Help with what?" she countered.

"Look," said Jenny. "I'm just saying is all. I can't look at you and not see a girl."

"I'm wearing boy's clothes," I pointed out.

"I get that. I think I even get that you don't really want to be a girl, but I think that ship sailed."

I shrugged.

Gwen looked thoughtful. "Part of Brooke's problem is that she doesn't think she could afford to be a girl."

I looked at her suspiciously.

"She'd need a whole new wardrobe and everything."

"Hey! It's not like I don't know how to shop. If I wanted to be a girl, I could make it happen. But why? What one thing would I gain by being a girl?"

Jenny opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"You've already got awesome friends," Monica pointed out.

"A boyfriend? I mean...." Jenny trailed off.

"Ppff! How many of you have boyfriends?" I asked.

"Well, I'm sure none of us have boyfriends because you are a much better flirt than any of us. And since you ain't available--you turn everyone down--they get discouraged and go away," Gwen explained it all.

"It's true, Brooke. You're a hell of a flirt," said Monica, looking around me at Gwen, apparently admiring a nice bit of snark.

I moved my head from one to the other--they were on either side of me. "I am not! I don't flirt, I just smile. That's not flirting.... Is it?"

Naomi started to laugh, and pretty soon, we had all broken up over the idea.

*

Of course, we went to the mall right after eating. Some of the stores were just opening up. It was barely eleven, so we had the whole place almost to ourselves. The wide tiled halls had a neat echo that made the place feel even emptier. I switched back to my own glasses, once we were inside, putting the dark ones Jenny had loaned me into a pocket.

The phones had all come out again, except Gwen still wasn't using hers, and she hadn't while we were eating either. It wasn't like her, mostly she acted like the thing was attached to her hand, so maybe she had forgotten it at home? I didn't ask, but I wondered. I hadn't heard it ring in her purse either.

We passed several shops and the girls admired things like mini-dresses, jewelry and shoes but we didn't go in anywhere, and no one seemed in a hurry to find something to buy. Maybe they were all broke too, but lunch had cost them twelve bucks each, since they split it evenly four ways, letting me freeload. I tried not to feel bad about that.

"I still don't have any money I can spend," I mentioned. "Mom has to buy a car, and we need groceries. I made my sisters butter-and-pickle sandwiches for their lunch bags today 'cause that is, like, almost the last food we have in the house."

Monica rubbed her thumb and index finger together close to her ear.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "You guys didn't need to hear that. It just gets me down sometimes."

Jennifer angled over and hugged me around my shoulders. "You're so short!" she said. Jenny is like five-nine or ten.

"What's...what's that got to do with anything?"

"You're like one of my little sisters," Jenny said. "So cute!"

"Argh!"

"You should meet her little sister," said Monica. "She's like ten and as big as Brooke."

"Colleen's eight, and no, she's not as big as me."

"You said she was stronger."

"Well, she is that," I admitted. "She's a bully, too."

They all laughed.

"Seriously?" asked Jenny. "You get beat up by an eight-year-old?"

I put out my arm, made a fist and flexed. It made absolutely no difference. Giggling, everyone else copied my move. It turned out, only Naomi could make any real muscle.

"Jeez," she complained. "Now I'm like all self-conscious. Thanks a lot, guys!"

After we laughed at that, we stopped at a kiosk and looked at cheap jewelry. No one bought anything, but some of it was pretty cute.

"I've got an idea," said Jenny.

"Uh, oh," said Gwen. "Jenny's thinking again."

"We still haven't got the stains out from last time," said Monica.

"We should make it easier for Brooke to decide to be a girl," said Jenny ignoring them.

"Huh?" I said, realizing she was talking about me.

"She never has any money, so she really can't afford to change her wardrobe or buy cosmetics or jewelry."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Wait, wait...."

"I see where you're going with this," said Gwen. "But we ain't rich either."

"It doesn't have to be much. Each of us just spent twelve on lunch. Keep it to no more than that, huh?"

"No," I said. "I hate the idea."

"I could start it," offered Jenny. "Beginner's earrings with free piercing are on sale here for only nine dollars, and half price for a second set...someone else could go in...."

My hands flew to my earlobes. "No! Just no!"

They all laughed. Jenny shrugged. "Eh, it was just an idea. You'd look so cute with a pair of those red, heart-shaped studs."

"I'm too cute already," I complained. That got more laughs.

"Speaking of studs," said Naomi, indicating with a head tilt what direction she meant. "Take a look at the two shoe salesmen."

We all did. They were nice-looking guys, tall with wide shoulders, lean faces, and nice haircuts. They were well-dressed, too — California business casual, broadcloth shirts, and sweater vests. But guys or girls did nothing for me, so I just shrugged.

Monica and Jennifer made noises back in their throats, though, and headed that direction. "Let's look at some shoes," said Naomi, smirking and following the other two.

"We're going to look at shoes," said Gwen, taking my arm.

"Okay," I agreed. Why not? "I'm still broke, though."

"Eh," said Gwen. "Looking costs, like, nothing."

The two men--boys really, they might have been a year or two older than us, though I was the oldest in our group--the two sales guys were all smiles and greetings and calling us ladies and complimenting us on our looks or fashion sense.

"They're trying too hard," I remarked to Gwen. I was wearing baggy jeans, rundown sneakers, and my corduroy coat, hardly a fashion plate. Gwen nodded and sidestepped around them. We browsed along one wall where they had a lot of athletic shoes laid out.

I glanced down at my feet. My old sneaks were almost to the falling apart stage, one of them actually had a piece of duct tape holding two halves of the sole together. I usually had to shop in the boy's department for shoes, adult sizes of men's shoes not being small enough. Heck, I shopped there for almost everything.

But this was a women's shoe store. No men's or boy's shoes at all. Still, some of the athletic shoes looked like they might be small enough to fit, and not all the styles were super girly or even very girly at all. But they were still out of my reach, price-wise.

"Hey, Brooke," said Gwen. "Look at these." She had stopped at a display of suede hi-top sneakers, kind of handsomely clunky-looking, in several different colors from black, brown, and gray to red, blue, and green.

I shrugged. "Cute?" I suggested.

"They've got hidden wedge heels inside," she held a pair so I could see. "They add four inches to your height, and no one sees your wearing heels."

I gasped. I took one of the shoes to examine. It was a well-made shoe, and you could not tell it had a built-in high-heel. "Four inches taller!"

"You wanna try them on?" she asked. "What size do you wear?"

"Uh, a two or three in kids' sizes," I admitted.

"I think that's a four or five in women's shoes," she said. "The sales guy would know." She waved to attract one of them. "Hey, and they come in this bright aqua-blue, like your eyes."

"Gwen," I protested weakly. "They're fifty-five dollars a pair."

She pointed at the lower half of the sign. "Marked down to thirty-seven. If we all chipped in ten like Jenny was talking about, we could buy them for you."

The salesman came over. "Ladies? You want to try on some shoes?" He grinned at us.

"Brooke wants to know, do you have these in a four-and-a-half or five? The blue?"

"I believe so," he said, moving to the wall to look over the boxes.

I hadn't said anything because I couldn't talk without air. I wanted those shoes.