Casey Chapter Six

Casey is an average fifteen year old about to enter into the first year of high school. With an extremely Christian dad, and a deceased mom, Casey has more than academics on mind. Making new friends, creating bonds, but keeping a large secret is all in a day’s work.

Warning: This is rated M for a reason. Some of the chapters may seem tame, but it will get into sexual and adult situations. Please be aware. Do not read if these things may upset you.

Chapter Six

I stood in front of my full length mirror and gazed at my reflection. This was the first time I had done this and didn’t feel full disgust at who looked back at me. My face was still too clean, but I had used a razor against it every morning. It wouldn’t bring full facial hair like I wanted. It was done to show marks of shaving. Another wish that couldn’t happen until I left my father’s home. Still, who this person looking back wasn’t all unpleasing. My short dark hair was spiked up today. My clothes for the day were still behind me on the bed. I decided that boxers would hide what I needed to hide. My ace bandage was hidden underneath an almost skin tight and thick “wife beater” tank top. A boy looked back at me; I looked back at me.

A smile lit up on my face as I rushed over to my clothes. I pulled on my jeans and then my Pearl Jam t-shirt. Watching myself in the mirror, I began practicing only taking off the t-shirt. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t ever show my binding. The white tank top was tight enough that it didn’t move. My changing room dilemma had been fixed.

One less anxiety issue.

I ran out the door quickly to catch the bus. My black backpack was still in the kitchen where I had sat to do my limited first day of school homework. Today was going to be a good day, I decided.

By lunch time, I had concluded that it certainly was a wonderful day to be alive. I was walking toward the court yard with my hands full of school lunch when my name was called out. Ben was waving his arms in the air from a nearby table. My feet took me over.

“Hey,” I said as I put down the tray and began to eat whatever meatloaf mess the cooks had pulled from some factory mess.

“How come you didn’t tell me yesterday that you had B lunch?” Ben asked. He had an apple and a water in front of him.

“I was so nervous about being shanked,” I laughed.

“Where is your lunch?”

“I’m on a diet. My mother says I need to lose some weight. Something about needing a girlfriend to enjoy high school,” he grumbled. After a swig from his water he added, “What if I don’t even want a girlfriend?”

I shrugged, “Some of the girls here would probably be too far out of our leagues, anyway.”

“Not for you, pretty boy,” Ben punched me in the shoulder hard.

My laugh was cut off as Ashley, the girl from math class, came over to our table. Behind her sat a group of giggling girls and about three boys. They were all freshmen that I recognized from various classes. Jenny was hiding her face behind her hands as another girl whispered into her ear. Ashley sighed and rolled her eyes, “I was sent to invite you over to our table for lunch.” She did not seem very happy to be inviting me over.

Ben looked from me to Ashley, “Why?”

“Not you,” Ashley sighed again. “Just Casey.”

“Ben is my friend. We both have to go over,” I shrugged. I didn’t abandon friends. I wasn’t about to change my personality just for a girl, either.

She turned and must have lipped something I couldn’t see. One of the giggling girls nodded back. Turning toward us again she said, “Fine. Can I go eat now?”

We both stood up as Ben answered, “We never stopped you from eating.” He was matter of fact about it. She rolled her eyes as she stomped back to her place around the crowded table.

I glanced over at Ben as we both walked to the table behind the reluctant girl. One of the boys, a very muscle bound blond guy that was taller than Ben and myself, kind of eyed us as we pulled chairs over to the table. “Hi,” I said as I smiled at them all. The girls laughed again and Jenn brought her hands down. She had an awkward smile and bright red blushed face.

“So, Casey, you’re new to our area, huh?” one of the girls asked. I saw Ashley roll her eyes.

“Yeah, moved from the other side of the city.”

“Oh wow! Where did you go to school there?” another girl asked. I wished I could remember their names from roll call. I knew they were in my English class.

“Uh, Mary Academy,” I really did not want these questions. I was here to make a new start.

“We play them,” the blond boy finally spoke. His voice was a lot deeper than mine. I now wished for hormones to make my voice just as deep.

“Play?” I asked as if I didn’t already understand his implications.

“Football. C’mon man! Never played the game?” he leaned forward to intimdate me. I didn’t back up or lean forward in retaliation. Do not ever fight the jock. I already knew this rule.

“Nah, I had other things to do,” I shrugged easily. “I do follow professional, though.”

“Come join the team,” the boy next to Jenny also leaned forward.

“I can’t,” I said. I took a bite of the nasty food. Anything to make it seem like I was through with this conversation.

“Can’t? Don’t know how to play? Or are you afraid?” the blond sneered.

“Shut up Mark,” Ben came to my defense.

“Who asked you, tubby?” Mark, the blond, leaned forward to grab onto Ben’s shirt. My hand shot out automatically to grab his wrist. I didn’t squeeze, but the warning was clear.

“I didn’t invite them over to be in a fight,” Ashley said. I let go of Mark’s arm.

“No, you brought them over to fuck Jenny,” Mark and the jocks stood up. He turned to me, “Careful pretty boy. Next time I’ll break your nose for touching me.” I glared back. I couldn’t stand bullies, and I learned a long time ago that they hated to be stood up against. I probably wasn’t as strong as Mark, but that didn’t mean I had to take the abuse.

I went to stand up to prove just that when Ashley, who was sitting next to me, grabbed my arm in warning. I stayed. He stomped off.

“Well, that was fun. We should do this everyday,” Ben stated as he finished his apple.

“I’m sorry,” Jenny said suddenly. I looked over at the true reason I had come over to the table. Tears were forming in her eyes. Her two friends gathered her into a hug.

“He’s just a jerk,” the one on her left said.

I looked over at Ashley, “Why was he even at this table?”

“He has been trying to get Ashley to go to the movies with him for a year now,” Ashley said as she moved to clean up the trays left by the guys.

I turned back to Jenny, “Not your type?”

Her face turned bright red and the tears disappeared. The girls started to giggle again. I looked at Ben confused. He shook his head. The only sound from the table was Ashley as she sighed when she returned. “God, really?” In frustration Ashley turned to me and asked, “Will you take Jenny to a movie one of these weekends?” I looked over at the girl in question. She slid down in her seat to hide beneath the table top. The cackling was extremely loud, but the whole lunch room was already roaring with so many people.

“Uh…” I didn’t know what to say. I was saved by the bell ringing for the end of lunch. Ashley and the girls quickly grabbed their trays and ran off before I could answer. I sat in shock as Ben voiced what was running through my head, “What just happened?”

With no real answer or clue to the teenage girls, we grabbed our things. I waved as I separated from Ben to get into my large Concert Choir class. My backpack was pushed underneath my chair in the tenor side of the class as the teacher began passing out our folders for this semester.

I was working on one part of our new song with the guys in my group when I was jabbed in the back suddenly by the end of a pencil. I turned around to see one of the friends from the table in the soprano section right behind me. “Yes?” I asked.

“You will take Jenny out, right?” she asked me.

“I don’t know,” I lied. I was going to ask her, but why did these girls have to be in on this?

“She really thinks you’re cute,” she said. She looked me up and down, “I don’t think you’re bad looking, honestly.”

I was flattered. I was good looking? Really?

“I don’t know your name,” I admitted.

She giggled quietly. The groups were still practicing around us. I kept glancing over at Mrs. Smith to make sure she didn’t notice us not working. The girl answered, “Rachel Cropper.”

“I will think about talking with Jenny about that date. I have to make sure I get my allowance first. I also have this horrible thing with my dad. He doesn’t want me to date during high school. Said not to be distracted by girls or something,” I smiled at her. “Let me get everything cleared at home. I don’t want to say I can take someone to the movies and then get grounded.”

She laughed and we went back to our choir rehearsal. Maybe high school life wasn’t going to be so bad. I certainly wasn’t going to be lacking in girlfriends.


Red Eyes

Colleen always thought herself an average little girl. She was eight years old and lived in what was considered the “bad part of town” in Detroit, Michigan. She never begrudged her parents for the little they could provide her and her two sisters, one older at thirteen years old and her younger sister at six years old. The new apartment they had been able to finally provide was bigger and allowed her older sister her own room.

The one things that discomforted Colleen, though, was the horrible feeling she had when she would try to walk down the hallway to her room or from her room. She couldn’t do it like her sisters did, and her mother had come to scolding her for rubbing the white wash off of the walls. Her back would feel the tingles as if someone was following her when she knew she was alone. This forced her to rub her back down the walls as she walked like a crab sideways. Every spanking her mother gave her was worth it to not have that horrible feeling crawling down her back.

Her parents worked hard as servers in the suburb outside of downtown. They brought in a decent amount of money to keep them warm in the winter and housed now. It was a step up from their previous dwellings. Colleen knew that they were saving to one day move everyone into the neighborhood where they had found their good jobs and into the better schools.

Colleen was now laying in her blankets on the floor next to her younger sister, Tisha, and trying to will herself to sleep. For some reason she couldn’t shut her eyes. Her heart would race when she did and they would pop back open. The light from the hallway illuminated the dark room well enough for her to see that her few toys and belongings weren’t moving. Yet something seemed to be moving in the dark to her mind. She told herself over and over it was her imagination. She could hear the night people outside of the house and the bass from the cars as they cruised by. Her parents wouldn’t be home until the last bus came through at about midnight, but her older sister Nikka was awake. She knew she was awake still as her stereo was on low to try and drown out the night life of the ghetto.

Finally sleep came onto Colleen deep into the night even after she heard the door unlock and her parents come in for the night. All three bolts were replaced as her brain went into the first stages of dreams. They were plagued, as they had been of late, of weird images of people yelling and the horrible feeling of fear. No sound, though, was ever in these dreams and that might have forced her to be better about them.

Most days were a normal routine for Colleen. She would wake up and hurry out of her bedroom before her back could be exposed. In the living room her sisters would be getting dressed for the day and they would share a handful of cereal. Then they would all hurry out of the door to the public bus to ride toward their school. Their parents hadn’t wanted them to attend at the public which was three blocks from their new apartment, so they had received some of the few scholarships awarded to attend a private academy on the other side. It was an hour ride on the public bus. This meant that Colleen didn’t have to be in the creepy part of her apartment very long, though. Even when she was home she tried to remain in the living room as much as she could.

This day went as usual until it was time once again for bed. The feeling in the house intensified as night drew its blanket onto the city. Nikka was bobbing her leg up and down while sitting on the couch in apparent nervousness. Tisha also seemed to be worried about something. Colleen didn’t know what could be causing it, but even in their living room, she felt as if it wasn’t just the three of them alone in the apartment. They heard their heater click on, but then shut off almost immediately. Nikka stood up and went to the thermostat. She didn’t tell the other two anything but shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and returned to the couch. They continued to watch their Princess and the Pea movie as the heater once again started and stopped.

Nikka sighed, “You two better go get to bed. If the heater is broke than you’ll wanna be under your covers tonight.” She stood up and turned off the T.V. The heater gave a low moaning sound before turning on and off again. It sent chills down Colleen’s spine as she grabbed Tisha’s hand and they raced for their bedroom.

As they both cuddled under their heap of blankets and quilts, most of which had been gifts from the PTO at their new school, they felt the cold seep into the room. A broken furnace in the middle of February in Michigan was a death sentence if they waited to long to fix it. Tisha fell into slumber quickly, as she did most nights, but Colleen stayed awake to hear Nikka trying to get the heater to work. She heard her on the phone with one of their parents, probably disrupting their shift to tell them, and heard her ask if they still had their portable unit from the old apartment. The old apartment hadn’t had central heat like this new one did, and so they had had space heaters that were constantly a threat to break out a fire. Colleen remembered her dad’s warnings every morning while they huddled around one in the living room. Nikka hung up the phone then and Colleen felt herself starting to drift into sleep.

The cold nipped her face, but she couldn’t breathe under her blankets. Her face was the only thing she hadn’t bundled up. Her head even had an extra pillow wrapped around it. The sound of a voice shouldn’t have penetrated the wrappings of fluff, but it was clear as if she hadn’t her ears covered well, “Kill her.”

Her eyes sprang open and she shifted their browns around the darkened room. The hallway light should have been able to come into the room well enough for her to see around her, but it seemed the black had covered her room well. She could see a bit of where the light just ended right at the entrance of her room and couldn’t come in further. The voice was raspy and deep, “Kill her.” She was awake now and knew for certain that it couldn’t be a dream. Tisha was still deep in slumber beside her.

Slowly, without knowing why she was doing it, she sat up and grabbed for her extra pillow. “Take her from this misery. Kill her,” the voice commanded. She held her pillow in between both hands now. She knew what she had to do. Her brain screamed for her to stop, though, as her hands moved to hover above the little girl’s face. She could easily push the pillow down and sit on top of the six year old.

No! Her brain was yelling at her to stop. To not move. She needed to not kill her sister. She had never any ill will toward her family before. Why would she want to end the six year old’s life now?

Her arms shook with the torrent of emotions. She wanted to stop, but the voice kept challenging her. It kept commanding her. Her eyes moved from the innocent little girl and up into the corner of her room. Above the closet was deep black and then two glowing red pupils. They had no outline, nothing to define them attached to anything. The blackness swirled around the entire room except for those eyes and the clearness she could see her sister laying next to her.

Suddenly it seemed over. A new shadow joined the room and she could move her body on her own again. She had control over her arms and pulled the pillow away from where it had almost snuffed out a life. She searched for the source of the new shadow and saw Nikka standing in the doorway. Her own face alight with fear and shock as she stared into the corner where the eyes had been. They slowly looked at each other before the older sister ran from the room.

Colleen couldn’t fight the fatigue that suddenly gripped her. She didn’t remember laying down nor falling asleep, but she was grateful when the sun was shinning through the window the next morning. She was very happy when Tisha woke her up.

Her happiness increased as they packed their things over the course of the next three days and by the end of the week were moving to an apartment closer to their school and where their parents worked. They never spoke about what happened in that apartment that night and her mother never had need to spank her for stripping the paint again. In their new place she was able to walk down the halls comfortably and even play in her room alone. They all realized how dark the world had seemed when suddenly their new apartment seemed brighter even if it did have less windows.

Colleen tried to ignore the news, but she couldn’t help to notice that her old address seemed to have a lot of domestic violence murders attached to it until it was finally torn down when she was twenty-three so that the new deli across the street could have a bigger parking area. Even later, though, she still remembers the red eyes who had tried to get her to kill her sister that cold winter’s night.

Casey Chapter Five

Casey is an average fifteen year old about to enter into the first year of high school. With an extremely Christian dad, and a deceased mom, Casey has more than academics on mind. Making new friends, creating bonds, but keeping a large secret is all in a day’s work.

Warning: This is rated M for a reason. Some of the chapters may seem tame, but it will get into sexual and adult situations. Please be aware. Do not read if these things may upset you.

Chapter Five

It felt like the day would never end as I was introduced to every class trudging through molasses. Finally, after a very uneventful choir class where I was praised for my high tenor, I stood in front of the doors to the male locker rooms. This was the first time I felt my body seize up. I had even walked into the male bathrooms between Geography and Science, but now I stood before another obstacle. I could easily slip into a stall in the bathroom to use the toilet; in the locker rooms I would be forced to change in the aisles. I didn’t think this through. Physical Education was forced to shower after class, but the dance class was exempt. I had thought that through when I read the student handbook during the summer. I just didn’t think about the fact that I would be changing my clothes still into the mandatory shorts and t-shirt.

The late bell hadn’t rang yet and I watched both girls and boys file into their separated doors for the gym classes. I had to make a decision. Could I skip class the first day and possibly just hide somewhere until the busses arrived? I was about to take that choice when a voice called out not far from me, “Casey!” I turned to see the boy from the bus bounding toward me. He seemed to be struggling to run, and I wondered why he was rushing?

I scrambled in my brain and finally remembered his name, “Ben?” He panted next to me and doubled over slightly to catch his breath. “Why are you running?”

“The bell,” he panted, “is going to ring soon.” He huffed some more and then stood back up again, “Have P.E. last hour?”

“Dance,” I told him as I turned back toward my original dilemma. With Ben standing next to me I couldn’t just take off anymore. At least no one would have recognized me from before, but now he could be a witness I did not need.

“Oh! Me too!” he said happily.

“I thought only freshmen had to take the physical classes?” I questioned as we slowly made our way toward the doors. I only hesitated again for a misstep before following him into the male side. He answered my question with a vague response of “Doctor’s note didn’t work again this year.” My ears started to ring as my heart rate climbed and I didn’t really register his answer. I purposely avoided looking down the main aisle toward the boys changing into their uniforms. We both walked up to where a table lay out with all of the uniforms not yet acquired. Lockers slammed behind me as more guys rushed out of the cramped smelly room toward where the gym doors now lay beyond. Ben shoved my shorts and shirt into my arms suddenly and snapped me out of my stupor. I looked at them as if they held the plague, “Do we really have to wear these?”

He laughed, “They aren’t so bad. At least we won’t have to go home in smelly clothes.” He shrugged and started off toward one of long lines of dark maroon painted lockers. He looked at me, “Are you going to change?”

I looked at my pile of clothes. The shirt was a horrible gold color with the panther mascot stamped on in maroon. The pants were a matching pure maroon. I mumbled, “Have to pee.” I took off quickly for the bathrooms near the entrance of the locker rooms and shoved myself into a stall. “What?” I heard him yell over a few of the other guys. I was already changing quickly, though, when I heard him call my name as he also entered into the bathroom area.

I flushed the toilet, and walked out to see him standing in the doorway. He looked like I had grown into a specimen for study, “Are you okay?” I nodded to his question and put my clothes onto the benches before washing my hands.

He watched me with curious brown eyes, “Jumpy still?” I sighed. I looked at myself in the mirror again and realized that to him I was the boy who he met on the bus. He didn’t know me, not really, and I was acting very odd. ‘Get a grip, Casey,’ I chided myself. I nodded to him and made him follow me out toward the gym doors.

“Seriously, dude, we ain’t going to kill you,” he chuckled.

“It isn’t that,” I sighed, “I’m an only child. I have never had anyone see me change before and I don’t think I’d measure up.” I know it was probably stupid to confide in the other kid I just met, but he seemed to be genuine in wanting to be friends.

He nodded, “I understand. That’s why I didn’t want to ever take this course. Man, I’m almost 200LBS. I can’t dance and I can’t run. I can’t do anything like that. My doctor signed a paper last year to waive me from this hell, but he refused to sign it again. He lectured my mom on getting me into shape before I got diabetes.” He looked over at me sadly, “I am going to be the only person to fail dance in the whole world.”

“At least it’s dance and not basketball or something,” I offered. “Let’s not forget the hot chicks in horrible P.E. clothes, too.” I laughed. He smiled and nodded. We stood off to the side as the teachers all filed in from the locker rooms.

“We are going to introduce ourselves and then we will ask you to follow your coach to your designated areas for today’s lessons,” a very tall blond man said out to the gathering of yellow shirts.

There were three men and four women teachers. I didn’t pay much attention to everyone’s introduction, until the last woman said her name, “I am Ms. Coleman. I teach the dance class here. I have been teaching dance for thirteen years. Do not make this my unlucky year.” She was short, all of the students were taller than her, and she had high frizzed black hair to make up for her lack of height. She wore a tight pink tank top over a very muscular body. It made me pause to see this short woman with possibly better arms than most of the men in the room. She intrigued me. I wondered if I could mimic her muscle tone to try and look manlier myself. She brought her dark brown eyes through the crowd of students. Gesturing toward a staircase I didn’t notice before that led up above the girl’s locker room she said, “That is my dance studio. Dance class follow me.” A few of us followed the short dark skinned woman toward our first class.

We reached the landing above the gym where a small studio was hidden. A mirror covered the whole side of one wall and on the other side we could hear the gym classes below past the balcony edge. We all were told to sit on the floor and we did so quietly. No one, I suppose, really knew what to expect from this powerful woman.

She sat down on the floor too and told us to spread out better. Our butts scooted across the plain floor as we made room between us all. “Good, now we will warm up while I talk,” she led us to stretching out toward our toes that we held in front of us. “This class isn’t going to be roses. I don’t teach dance because it’s easy. If you chose this thinking it was your best chance to pass without work, then I suggest you go downstairs and join them in volleyball.” She paused here in her speech to have us change our position to spread our legs apart and stretch to one side. “We have until December to whip you into shape, and I will not allow slackers. Mondays we will tone muscles needed to dance, Tuesday and Wednesday we will learn our dance moves and practice them, Thursdays we have the track to get our legs and lungs ready for real dancing, and Fridays is review days. If I feel that you slacked during the week, then Friday will suck for you.”

Standing up then she forced us to our feet. I bounded up quickly and we all realized that maybe dance wasn’t going to be our easy A this year. “Arms out to your sides. We will start this week with five minute holds. Don’t lower your arms until I say you can in five minutes!” As my arms started to shake and I felt the fire begin in my shoulders, I bemoaned the fact that I didn’t join P.E. I began to cry in my head as my fingers began to tingle, ‘Why was I born wrong?’ I could have been downstairs enjoying a good game of basketball with the guys. I heard a few of the others, girls since Ben and I were the only boys, start to cry out loud. We were all bemoaning our fate and felt this was a horrible punishment for wanting to avoid being sweaty.

As I was about to give in and just lower my arms as so many of my classmates were doing, I looked at Ms. Coleman again. Her arms were out as well. She wasn’t forcing us to do something she didn’t also force herself to do. I saw her muscles ripple again in her arms, and I knew that if I wanted to be strong like that I would have to force my body through the pain. I gritted my teeth together and held in my own tears. I was going to do this. I was a boy and I needed to show the strength of being a boy even if it was just to myself.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Copyright: 2015 France Gamble

Casey Chapter Four

Casey is an average fifteen year old about to enter into the first year of high school. With an extremely Christian dad, and a deceased mom, Casey has more than academics on mind. Making new friends, creating bonds, but keeping a large secret is all in a day’s work.

Warning: This is rated M for a reason. Some of the chapters may seem tame, but it will get into sexual and adult situations. Please be aware. Do not read if these things may upset you.

Chapter Four

The bus was strangely quiet, even though most of it was filled with teenagers. Even my eyes drooped and I leaned against the hard metal lined window. A bump forced me to reevaluate my position with my care of a headache and I tried to keep my brain from being jostled again. My eyes closed and I felt that drift into dream state. I usually can’t sleep in vehicles, but six-thirty in the morning is very early. Public school starts at seven sharp. The private girl’s school the church ran starts at nine and so I was used to sleeping in a bit. My head rolled forward and I snapped awake again.

A snicker came from the bench across the aisle. I looked over at a boy twice my size around, which isn’t saying much since I weighed only 110 LBS when in a rain storm. He shifted over so that his legs fell into the center and leaned so he could talk over the bus engine, “Too early for you? I’ve never seen you before, and I thought I knew everyone on this route.”

“Name’s Casey,” I introduced myself. I held out my hand and gave him a firm shake. “I just moved here. Went to a private school before this and we didn’t wake up before the birds.” He laughed. I smiled a bit, “Why does school have to start so early?”

“So we can be released at noon,” he informed me. I must have looked confused, but really I was too tired to even feel my face so I don’t know if I even shifted expressions. “Teens get jobs and it’s easier to start a job at one or one-thirty so we can get off work in time to study,” he leaned back a bit as the bus stopped and the doors swished open. Three more kids boarded and passed us to find seats.

We must have been the only ones on the bus making any form of communication. It had to have felt odd to him, so we both waited for the rumble to start again before I asked, “You never said your name?”

“Oh! Sorry,” he chuckled and held out his hand again, “I just assume everyone knows me. My name is Ben. I’m a sophomore this year.”

I didn’t think to add in my class year, “I’m a freshman.” He nodded and said he figured.

We sat quiet again as the bus continued on for two more stops. My eyes lowered again by the last stop, until I felt someone budge me over forcefully. It didn’t hurt, but caught me off guard that I had been touched. I jumped and slammed into the wall. “Oh! Sorry!” Ben said as he held his hands up in surrender. “More people coming on and I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing with me.”

“Just warn me next time, dude,” I gave a nervous laugh and held my hand to my still pounding heart. I felt the wrap underneath holding down my chest, but knew he hadn’t felt it since he had only shoved against my shoulder.

“You’re a jumpy kind, huh?” he asked.

“You should hear the horror stories we tell in the private schools about public education,” I joked. “I was afraid someone was trying to shank me!” We laughed together and he shook his head.

“We might be a public school, but we’re not that dangerous. This is the school with the least amount of crime in the city,” he announced proudly. “Still has its bullies, though.”

“I’m sure everyone will love me,” I smirked. He shook his head with mirth and looked out the window passed me. I saw concern draw into his brown eyes as he mouthed the street names. “Something the matter?”

“We didn’t stop on Washington Ave,” he said. His right hand reached up and pulled through his black hair.

“What’s on Washington?”

“Just a girl I knew last year in my math and English classes,” he said. He was still concerned so I didn’t push. I didn’t have to as he continued, “She was being teased pretty bad the last month. I worried about her all summer, but I guess they transferred her to another school. Probably for the best.” I nodded.

The bus left the side streets and went onto the main busy streets toward the prison called North Central High School. I looked at my watch as we pulled next to the building behind another large yellow bus. Kids were grabbing their things and shoving their way into the double doors. The inside of the school was nothing like my old school. A large main room was where I found myself. The colors of the school were plastered everywhere, an ugly maroon and a yellow faded color they called “gold”. I had to go into a line to go through the metal detectors and my bag went through an X-ray machine. I was so glad they didn’t go through it by hand, because I didn’t know how I was going to explain away the wig I brought and the pink flowered dress I had put into the bottom under my notebooks.

On the other side of the security check was a row of tables. They had paper taped to the front of them saying, “Last Names starting with…” and then separated out through the alphabet. I found my table as I watched Ben go over to the “A” table. The lady behind it looked bored, “Name?” “Casey McPherson,” I told her. She told me to spell my last name and I did, but I was more interested in the huge crowd around me.

Suddenly a sheet of paper was shoved into my face and I grabbed at it. “Your schedule and map. Have a nice year,” she sounded like the receptionist of Monster’s Inc. movie. I gave my thanks and walked out of the throng toward a quiet little place near a wall.

I looked over my schedule and was happy to note that my transcripts I had mailed last week had been received well. The enrollment papers were also noting the correct gender as it stated at the top of my paper “Casey McPherson – Male – 9Th grade – 0 credits received”. I almost felt like cheering and jumping for joy. I was so glad my dad had been too busy to fill out the paperwork and had allowed me to. It stated my previous school on there, but I knew for a fact that the “academy” didn’t state it was separated by gender.

Everything was looking great, and so I read on in the papers. My classes were basic for any teenager, I suppose. Math, English, Geography, Earth Science, Choir and Dance were stated in that order. I didn’t know if I really wanted to do math so early in the morning, but I suppose there wasn’t much choice. The school required math and English all four years. Geography for ninth grade, American History for tenth, World History for eleventh, and World Government in my twelfth year. I had to have an elective and I decided choir would get me the most girls. Every chick loved a guy who could serenade her, right? Dance was my only option this year, since I didn’t want to take physical education with the guys. Dance didn’t require showers after class, but the P.E. class did. I obviously couldn’t shower with the boys. Next year I would be required to take a health class instead, and then juniors and seniors had the option of another elective class or taking it as a free period and leaving the school early. I practically skipped towards my math class as the first bell warned students to start on their way. The shuffle of hundreds of feet mixed with the kids now awake enough to chat with old friends. I maneuvered my way through toward the math side of the large building. I didn’t have any friends yet, but I wasn’t worried.

The math class was empty when I arrived. I stood in the door for a second as the teacher stood in the hall beside me watching the students mingling. “Get to class,” he kept saying to random kids. I slowly made my way in and wondered why I was the first to arrive. Inside the room there were posters with horrible quotes about math from famous people. As if putting insightful words onto the wall in pretty letters was going to make anyone love the subject. I found a seat in the center of the room where I could still see the door as another person finally made her way in. She sat next to me, and it seemed she started the flood.

As everyone found their seats, some friends chatting along together merrily, I heard the tardy bell ring. The teacher came inside and shut the door behind him. As it finalized it clicked again. He turned and we all watched as another student entered.

I felt my heart speed up at the sight of her. I had never seen anyone so gorgeous in my life. Her blond hair came down to her lower back in waves, which she pushed off of her shoulder in annoyance. Her arms were tanned and her legs were gleaming brown in the harsh lights. She was careful to not lower her hands to her side, because we all knew her blue jean cut-off shorts were not in compliance. I looked down to her pert feet shoved into high heeled Greek sandals. Her bright pink shirt left nothing to the imagination as she pulled on one side to try and hid her tan stomach beneath. Her shorts were cut low, too, and I could see her hip lines. When it was pulled down, though, it brought the V of her neckline further down and I wondered if she was even wearing a bra to hold in her C-cups.

Her blue eyes twinkled as the teacher gave her a scolding for her choice in attire. I wondered how he didn’t find himself staring like the rest of us guys were. The boys had all stopped to ogle the beauty queen before us as I heard the girls sigh or grumble something.

The loudest, though, was the girl who had come into the room after me. She mumbled just loud enough for me to hear, “God, she knows better. She did that on purpose. Such a show-off.”

“What?” I whispered back. I brought my eyes from the scene in the front to the homely brown haired, blue eyed girl next to me.

“Jenny Krisply,” she nodded to the goddess still being chewed out. “She has been in my class since kinder and still can’t seem to get that we don’t need to see her assets.”

“If she has them, why not flaunt them?” I asked as I looked back at her.

“Stop drooling. She won’t date you,” the girl laughed. “You’re just like all of the others of the male species.” She then sighed and leaned forward to rest her chin on her arms. Her shirt came up to show off a milk white back, her tight blue jeans rode low, and I saw she was wearing a nice lacy type thong. “What if you don’t have it to flaunt?” she asked quietly and sadly.

“You’re pretty too,” I meant it. She was homely, pale, bright blue curious eyes, and a nice shade of brown hair just darker than my own. She had a few freckles across her nose and down her arms, and her shirt was a tight pale purple which just made her eyes pop. It wasn’t showy in its own U-necked shape.

“My name is Ashley,” she told me. I introduced myself and repeated that I thought she was pretty.

She shook her head as Jenny was done being “humiliated” in front of the class. The blond took the seat in front of Ashley and Ashley forced her back a bit to whisper in her ear. They both flicked their eyes toward me, but I now pretended to be interested as the teacher started his lecture.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Copyright: 2015 France Gamble

Please review

Casey Chapter Three


Casey is an average fifteen year old about to enter into the first year of high school. With an extremely Christian dad, and a deceased mom, Casey has more than academics on mind. Making new friends, creating bonds, but keeping a large secret is all in a day’s work.


Warning: This is rated M for a reason. Some of the chapters may seem tame, but it will get into sexual and adult situations. Please be aware. Do not read if these things may upset you.


Chapter Three

I hated the teen Bible studies the most that day. All we covered was the sins a woman has in her life and how we tempt men. They used various Bible quotes to prove their point and I learned three years ago to tune them out. I read the bible with my dad, and had already formed my own opinion. I promised myself that when I turned 18 would be my last week in this church. I didn’t know what my dad would do, but I didn’t care as I struggled to pretend my two hours in the Sunday class away.

Mainly I knew that the bible never really did made females inferior to their male counter parts. Somehow through generations it came out to be as if girls were stupid. I felt strongly that Jesus was not guiding this church any more.

The class finally ended and I followed the others out into the main hall. Our parents would swoop in quickly and make sure the girls stayed away from the boys. I was sure that none of the teenage girls had apples to offer their love interests, but I was careful never to roll my eyes at the way the adults treated us.

My dad was still speaking with the director, or at least he was talking to him again, when I found him waiting for me by the front entrance. I had been shuffled off into the class room so fast before I hadn’t even gotten more than a quick peak to see my dad find the director. This meant that I didn’t know what they discussed, either. Their words died on their lips as I approached them. “Ready to go home?” my dad asked. “Yes, sir,” I answered meekly.

A couple of the boys from my age group were discussing a football game really loud as we passed by them to leave the church. I wanted to join them. My heart ached to rip off the dress, run over and laugh about the latest missed catch from our local team’s quarter back. I had thought it was hilarious, as well, when I saw the game on Friday night. The team was always good as a comedy session on Friday nights. I just wished then that I could be one of the guys.

Just as my father opened the doors for the main halls to let in the sunlight of almost noon, my name was called from behind. I turned to see Mary blushing at the realization that she had been rather loud in the church. She didn’t run over like she had at the mall, but shuffled quickly towards us. I looked at my dad as my friend grabbed onto my sleeve, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” My dad nodded and held the door open wider for us to leave before him.

I could see Mary’s parents frowning in the main hall as they watched us leave. They were talking to another couple. I’m sure everyone was talking about the fact that I was going to be attending public school, and I wondered if Mary’s parents were disapproving her choice of best friend.

She pulled me off of the cement path and toward the large ash tree that was on the lawn area of the front of the church. The golden white blocks that created our building gleamed brightly in the summer sun. She quickly looked behind me to see that my dad wasn’t following, but he wouldn’t let us out of sight, either. She whispered, “I was thinking and I think you’re making a mistake.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate a bit more,” I informed her.

“Let your hair grow out again, and stop this foolishness with the boy thing,” she hissed. She started to look angry now. It must have been sitting inside her all week, “I won’t tell on you, but if you don’t give me your word that you’re going to stop, then I cannot be your friend. I will not let you drag me into Hell for your selfish Devil worship.”

Now anger seethed into me. I started to shake as I clenched my fists at my side. I ripped my sleeve from her grasp, “Cast not the first stone unto the sinner lest you be judged yourself.” It wasn’t a direct quote, but it was enough to prove my point. “I needed a friend. Someone who could stand by me during my difficult time. If you cannot be this friend, then go and worship your false idols.” I didn’t raise my voice during the entire exchange, too afraid my dad would over hear, but I made my point. My heel pivoted and my legs stormed me off toward where my dad stood confused.

“Is everything alright, Casey?” he asked. I didn’t answer as I led the way back to our car. I could hear his footsteps behind me and I waited for him to unlock my side. My dress caught on my foot as I tried to get into my seat and I screamed as I pulled it into the car, slamming the door. I was shaking full force now from the rage I felt inside.

How could I have been so stupid to think that my longest and best friend ever would understand me? She was a sheep led to the slaughter of men through which nothing would come of her. I hated that she didn’t have a backbone. I hated that the men of this church were nothing but pigs who abused their women. How could they stay in this place and allow themselves to be belittled? Besides my dad, who wouldn’t acknowledge anything unless it was to be like the men in the church, Mary had known me during the time when I struggled with everything. I remember her holding me after my spanking when we were eight years old. I had cried as I begged her to teach me how to be a girl so I wouldn’t disappoint my dad anymore at the age of nine. She was there when my mom died when I was seven.

My thoughts ran out of order of different instances that I had thought Mary was there for me. I had thought that she was like me. She had once told me in secret that she wanted to go to college before marriage. Now at fifteen she didn’t feel that way anymore, I supposed.

We were halfway home when I finally said, “It’s the public school, huh?” He didn’t answer for a while. I continued, “That is what everyone was looking at me during the service for. Is that what the director wanted?” I was being extremely bold. Usually my dad never scolded me for talking like this, but I also had been very careful not to speak like this. Mary had opened up a dam inside of me.

“They are concerned that it will corrupt your soul,” he answered. I gave a small laugh. He glanced my way quickly and continued, “I’m not worried. Your mother went to public school and she was fine. I know we taught you well.”

Mom had died when I was seven, so the “we” he was including was Mrs. Tarnish alongside himself. When mom had died the church had been trying to convince my dad he could not raise me alone. Their answer to the problem was Mrs. Tarnish, who also had a daughter and two sons. After school and during the summer I spent most of my awake time with Mrs. Tarnish and her brood of kidlets. She had been brutal to me. I felt like I was constantly punished for being myself around her and the kids. Her one son was my size, though a year younger than me. I tried to learn quickly what she wanted from me, but Mary had been a savior in the end during those years. She was also the one who slapped me for saying I was a boy almost once a week for a few months.

When I turned twelve I had learned what to do to pretend. She still had cautioned my dad to keep an eye on me and the teachers in the school seemed to take a special interest as well. They were convinced I would end up gay and need reforming. My dad, though, spent little time with me but didn’t make me continue to live with Mrs. Tarnish anymore after that.

“Why would they think that?” I asked deeply. My voice was straining from not screaming again at the injustice of life in general.

“They think you’re rebellious, Casey. You have the mind of one who is on track toward corruption,” he sighed here as he turned onto our street. “Dear, Mrs. Tarnish, Director Thomas, and Ms. Bloom all approached me this summer.” He turned off the car in our driveway. I didn’t unbuckle as he turned in his seat, “Something is the matter with you. We can see it, but we don’t know what it is. Are you gay?”

He came out and asked. I spun shocked and offended toward him, “No!” I wasn’t gay, not in the least. I was a male and the thought of a male touching me wanted to make me vomit. Our blue eyes locked as he searched them to check for truth. He nodded, finding it there in my horror.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that,” he shook his head, unlatched his belt and went to leave the car.

“Dad,” I said. I was going to tell him… I was going to tell him… I couldn’t tell him, as he turned toward me concerned again, “I promise I won’t dishonor you. I just want to know what it is like in public school like mom went to.” He smiled, touched my cheek and then left the car. I smiled back until his back was to me before also exiting the vehicle.

I couldn’t tell him. His expression when he asked if I was gay and the revelation of Cherish going to camp… no, I could never tell him while I was still young enough to not be able to run away. When I was eighteen and graduated from my senior year I would let him know and then disappear into the world on my own.

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Copyright: 2015 France Gamble

Casey Chapter Two


Casey is an average fifteen year old about to enter into the first year of high school. With an extremely Christian dad, and a deceased mom, Casey has more than academics on mind. Making new friends, creating bonds, but keeping a large secret is all in a day’s work.

Warning: This is rated M (MATURE ADULT THEMES) for a reason. Some of the chapters may seem tame, but it will get into sexual and adult situations. Please be aware. Do not read if these things may upset you.

Chapter Two

The wig was firmly in place, brushed and looking lovely. I only looked in the mirror long enough to make sure it was as real looking as I could ever have it. Then I turned away. I was ashamed of my image and I made sure to never look if I was naked. A knock sounded gently onto my door and I called for the person to enter.

My father opened the door enough to look in, “Ready for church?” I smiled and nodded at his peppered gray head. The wig twitched, but held fast with the pins. I just hoped I could find all of them when I took it off before bed. He left the room and shut the door behind him. He had been doing that since the start of summer. He had also been only peeking into the room instead of entering it. Something about me becoming a young lady and not needing to see the woman I was growing into. I didn’t mind it.

My bedroom, in our new house that we had moved into the Monday before, was sparsely decorated. I had put my collection of Barbie through the Ages on a high shelf above the window that was pulled shut with my pink lace curtains. A few My Little Ponies and Treasure Trolls were on my desk and a big poster of some boy band that Mary had told me was popular hung on the wall. On the far side, above my bed which was covered in a flower pink bedspread, was the pictures of my mom, my dad and myself. My last picture of mom was with me at the age of seven before she had gotten sick and passed away. I also had a full length mirror on the other side of my closet door, which was shut currently since my dad was home. Inside of the closet lay my secret clothing and a few of the dresses and nightgowns I hadn’t thrown away. The horror of the room really lay in the fact that the pain behind everything was a pale pink and the trim around the doors and window was a baby purple. My father thought it was perfect for me and I just wanted to get out a white paint bucket and fix it all.

I looked down and smoothed down the frills on my ankle length light blue skirt, and felt self-conscious of my bluebell flowered blouse. ‘I’m in a play,’ I reminded myself as I smiled and left the room. As long as I continued to think that this was just a play and soon the stage lights would rise, I could continue like this.

It really was only Sunday now that my dad was even home long enough to see me. He owned a few stores around the city and now preferred to check on every single one every day. His business was booming. We had moved to the other side for him to open three new stores on the East end. There was a private school that was attached to the branch for our church on this end of the city, but my pleading to enter into public school broke him down. As long as I remembered the “rules” then he didn’t see a problem with the state’s government education. With me in the public school, he didn’t see any reason to change into this branch’s church location. This meant that I would be taking the fifty minute drive to the church on Sunday morning and fifty minutes back with my dad.

I climbed into the passenger side of the four door white sedan. We entered the freeway and started on our way to the other side of the cities to where my old school mates would be. Everyone would be gathered in the church with their families waiting for the announcements from the director and then the preacher would do his sermon. I yawned just thinking about it all.

My dad wasn’t a conversationalist. Mostly, I think, he was afraid to ever try and talk to his daughter.  I’m sure it scared him that maybe he would not understand his almost 15 year old girl. I could probably scare him senseless by talking about some boy band everyone daydreamed about or even that Mary finally asked her mom to speak with Johnathon’s mom. I know he was dreading that talk, because he had started the conversation two weeks ago while we were packing the movies in the living room. He had only was able to mention talking with my old babysitter, a mother to three kids who watched me after mom died, that I interrupted him with, “Dad, I don’t have any reason to date anyone right now. I have high school to worry about.” He seemed to have sighed in relief and we continued packing in silence.

The large parking lot was packed when we arrived. The dashboard showed that we had ten minutes to rush inside and take our assigned seats. I gathered up the skirts so that my flat dress shoes would skip fast next to my father as we hustled up the large stone steps into the main hall. The director was there and I quickly found the flagstones fascinating. I knew the rules, the old fashioned ways never ended for our church, and I was not allowed to “challenge” a male by looking at his face. I felt stupid and inferior every Sunday. I was just happy that my parents had never kept the rules in the house, except for the dating and dress code rules, and I was allowed to speak freely with my dad if I wanted to. I didn’t want to, though, because I feared my brain wouldn’t filter something he really didn’t need to know about.

My dad had speckled gray hair within his dark brown, the same brown that my hair had matched. From the small glances I was able to give the director, I knew he had a full head of gray hair cut short. I had hoped he would have been balding, like our older pastor, but no such luck. I could feel his dark brown eyes take in my form and I wanted to retch at the thought of him thinking about me at all. I wondered many times if he was one of those pedophiles, but I never heard that he had touched one of the girls. My dad greeted him and went to push me into the doors from the main hall and into the chapel.

“Joseph,” the director said in his silky voice. I looked over and saw he wasn’t looking at my dad. My eyes averted themselves as we both stopped. “May I have a word with you after service?” My dad must have nodded as he put his hand onto my shoulder to guide me to walk, again.

The director followed behind us and all I wanted to do was straighten up and be proud. I couldn’t. I feared what he was going to talk to my dad about and I feared that my secret had been told.

I sat down in my chair across the aisle from Mary. She kept glancing my way and I made it a point to ignore her. The director started with his normal announcements of school starting tomorrow for the children, and the charity drive for the city orphans would be held next Saturday. Then he caught me completely off guard as he announced, “Our final announcement is that Ms. Cherish Presley will be attending our Love Jesus camp, so we should all pray for her soul to be released from the clutches of Satan.”

The Love Jesus Camp was our church’s camp on the west coast for children found to be “confused” about their love life. It was where we sent preteens and teens who have been caught being gay or even suspected of being gay. It was a common nightmare of mine. The people who returned from there always seemed different. They would claim to have seen the Devil himself alongside their bedsides and Jesus would come and save them as long as they were truly repented. Sometimes, though, the kids didn’t return. I asked the female youth coordinator last year why Michael hadn’t returned. She had said that he had found a “higher calling”. His parents, though, were sobbing messes for three weeks. When I questioned whether or not he was dead, I was scolded and gave a thrashing with the ruler for being obstinate. I wasn’t to question the answer I had been given. I knew, though, as I watched his mom shuffle through the routines for weeks, I was right and he had died.

The pastor came onto the altar and started with his normal reading of the Bible. He went on to explain the sin of the homosexual and the sin of the cross dressers of Jesus’ time. How a harlot could be redeemed, but only after changing their ways. His blue eyes seemed to shoot flames as he condemned everyone in the church if they knew of such a lifestyle and his bald head gleamed under the bright spot lights. Mary kept glancing my way, and I kept pretending not to notice. I couldn’t acknowledge her, because I knew in my heart that God would not have given me this mind if I wasn’t meant to fix the wrong done on my body. Was God wrong to give me this body? I couldn’t say, but I knew technology could fix it once I was old enough. My brain wouldn’t be swayed any longer by the sinful preaching from a book and not from God, himself, talking to me.

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Copyright: 2015 France Gamble

Please leave a comment review

Casey Chapter One


Casey is an average fifteen year old about to enter into the first year of high school. With an extremely Christian dad, and a deceased mom, Casey has more than academics on mind. Making new friends, creating bonds, but keeping a large secret is all in a day’s work.


Warning: This is rated M (meaning MATURE ADULT), and for a reason. Some of the chapters may seem tame, but it will get into sexual and adult situations. Please be aware. Do not read if these things may upset you.


Chapter One

The mall was bustling about; maybe a bit more than usual even for a Saturday. Old men walked by trailing along behind their old wives. Children yelled out and begged for things from the center sellers. Items were shining in the windows for each of the stores. I didn’t bother much with looking at the things, though. I watched the people. There were teenagers who wore their skin tight clothes or the goths who were heading down the way toward the food court. I loved to watch everyone. I studied their gait and saw how different the girls were from the guys. It was a busy Saturday, but I really loved the noise.

“Casey!” I heard someone yell out. I turned my head quickly, my long auburn braid swung against my back, as my friend Mary came running toward me. Her long knee length skirt had a pattern of roses on it, and her blush colored shirt covered from her elbows, up to her neck length and down the torso completely. I knew that even if she reached above her head for something skin would not show on her belly. She stopped and panted beside the bench I was sitting on. Some people stared at us as she caught her breath, but we didn’t pay them any heed. “What in God’s name are you wearing, Casey McPherson!”

I looked down at my Metalica short sleeved T-shirt, basic baggy jeans and tennis shoes and then looked at her with a raised brow, “Clothing.” She rolled her eyes as I smiled as innocently as I could.

“Your father will kill you if he saw those clothes,” she said and then looked around as if my old man was going to pop up suddenly and smite us both. “Where did you even get them?!” She suddenly waved her arms and I had to lean back to avoid being hit by her enthusiasm.

“A store,” I answered simply. I stood up and she gasped again. “What now?”

“Where are your… uh… where are your…” and she gestured to my chest.

“Boobs,” I answered for her. She nodded and then started biting her thumb nail in nervousness. “Walk with me, Mary. I will let you in on my little confession.” I gathered up my three plastic shopping bags from the various stores. For a minute I didn’t think she was going to follow as I turned to join the throng of people.

She quickly gained her steps and slid in beside me. I had been practicing my walk and now it seemed I was doing well. I mimicked the boys from the people watching as we made our way to the other side of the large city mall.

She waited for a few strides before looking over at me anxiously. “I’m going to cut my hair,” I announced to her. I waited for her to gasp again, but she just looked shocked. “You have known me since I was three, right?” She nodded and I continued, “I have always been the odd one in our little band of Christian martyrs. Mary,” I stopped and turned toward her, “I’m not really a girl.”

She looked confused. “I’m pretty sure you are a girl. We used to take baths together, remember? I mean, we went to camp together last year, too, and I remember you changing. You’re definitely a girl.”

I sighed and turned to were the hair style shop sat across from where we were standing. I pulled on her gently to make sure we weren’t in the way of traffic. Leaning against the wall of a punk rock shop, “I’m in the wrong body. I always have been. Your memory is great, so answer this: Why is it that I am always uncomfortable in the mandated clothes of church? Why is it that I demanded to know why I wasn’t a boy, when we were younger? Do you remember that time that I got the spanking for asking for a boy shirt from the store? I always snuck off to try and get the boy’s toys from the nursery in the church, or how I wanted to be put into the boy’s section at school? Mary, I am a boy. I am inside a boy. I feel like someone is forcing me to be this clown and perform in this circus I never signed up for.” She looked me up and down and then reached around for my braid. She didn’t say anything as her fingers ran along the pleats. “It has to go, too. I can’t continue to be what they want me to be constantly. I am going to scream if I have to enter another school, high school even, and pretend to be something I’m not.”

She contemplated something and then nodded, “What about your dad? Does he know?”

I shook my head quickly forcing the braid from her hand. It fell neatly down to rest along my front. The end beat against my knee as I continued to shake my head, “No, but he doesn’t need to.”

We didn’t move for a few breaths as we both envisioned the outcome of him finding out my revelations. He was a strict man and a very devout Christian. We read the Bible every night and he would quiz me on whole passages when he had the time. Yes, Joseph McPherson was the most pious man in our church currently, besides the pastor himself. Just this last Sunday the men of the church had passed around a petition and my father had been the largest most vocal signer against the gay rights movement of allowing marriage in the country. As a child and female I was to be quiet during the entire service and later we sat in our religious group, preteens and teens separated by gender, and learned why homosexuality was wrong according to God. On the ride home Mary’s family and mine shared their fifteen passenger van to be dropped off at our house. Our fathers talked about the days of Jesus’ time and how stoning and flogging should be brought back for the sinners against God. How Jesus himself had gone into a temple and destroyed it for their heresy and now our government had turned into that temple.

Mary spoke and brought me from my memories, “How will you hide this from him?” Her voice trembled as I’m sure she worried about her own punishment if they found out she was helping me.

I sighed, smiled again, and brought my hand to dig into one of the bags. My bright blue eyes met her dark brown ones as I dragged out another plastic bag. This one was clear. Holding it up for her to see; she looked confused again. I smirked again and handed it to her. Gently her hands pulled out the contents from the bag. A length of brown locks flowed down her fingers. Not as long as my hair, this one would only reach my middle back, but it was done beautifully. “A wig?” she asked. She looked up at me with a new look of terror.

“I thought it was clever,” I shrugged. “C’mon, I have an appointment to keep with destiny.” I grabbed her left hand and pulled her, with the wig still in her right hand, into the salon.

“I think I am going to be sick,” she said. She did look pale as I sat her down in a waiting chair. The magazines were enticing. They had glossy pages full of styles and I needed one that suited my desire. I held up the page I had been thinking about to my friend. She shook her head, pale now and maybe a bit green, she had tears in her eyes. “Please don’t,” she begged me.

“Mary, I know you’re scared, but I need to do this. No one will ever know. I promise to everything and swear on my soul that I will never let anyone know you came with me. I just need your help right now,” the tear fell down from her left eye. She used her half sleeve to wipe her face and nodded. “Good, now, which one?” I showed her two styles I was thinking about. “I need a bit of hair so I can use the bobby pins to attach the wig on, but I need the short hair to really make me who I am.”

She shuddered in a breath and pointed to the style she liked best, “Johnathon has that hair style.”

I smiled, “Are you ever going to tell your mom you like Johnathon so that she can speak with his mom?” Dating was prohibited within our church, but it was an unspoken rule that kids petitioned their parents to talk with the other parents and hook the couples up. “The fall social is coming up, and now that we are going into high school we can go.”

It brought her out of the shell she had slunk into about my change of style. She blushed, “I told her yesterday while we were doing dishes. She said he is a sweet boy. I think that means she will talk to his mom tomorrow during Woman’s studies.”

One of the ladies finished her customer and called me over to see what I needed done. She had bright green eyes and strawberry blond hair. I wondered if she was much older than a high schooler, honestly. I saw Mary biting her thumb again as I showed the picture to the lady. Her careful hands pulled out my braid as she said, “You’re cutting the entire length? That is a drastic change. Are you sure you want to do this?”

I nodded sharply with a smile on my face, “I have wanted this since I was six. Keep it in the braid and start by cutting the base off. I want to donate it to a charity.” She nodded as she reached for the scissors.

“Oh God,” Mary wept as the first cut went through and the braid came clean off.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Copyright: 2015 France Gamble

Please leave a comment review!