Chris slowly unpacked the new pajamas and slipped them on. He noticed that the buttons were on the other side, and the texture of the cloth was different. They were girl's pajamas. The butterflies were gone from his stomach. Now it felt like a heavy lead weight had settled there. This was no longer just making plans and talking about them. He was now facing the consequences. He looked at the clothes draped on the chair and shuddered. "My new clothes," he said softly.

It was with both curiosity and dread that Chris walked into the bathroom to look at himself. For a long time, Chris had been too disturbed about his appearance to really look at himself closely in the mirror. But now he could not take his eyes away. With his new hairstyle, there was no question at all about it. What he saw was the face of a girl looking solemnly back at him.

The hair was honey brown, compact and loosely curled. The girl's face was oval to round, and quite fair, without a single major blemish. The eyes were big, round and olive-blue. Her nose was small and turned up slightly. Her mouth was well placed and just the right size. For a girl. Her chin sloped down and back gracefully. Chris forced a smile. Two small dimples formed on either side of her mouth. For the first time he realized that Christine was not going to just look like a girl. She was going to be very pretty. He remembered something Mary had said to him once. At the time he had thought she was just ragging him. Now he knew she had been making an accurate observation. She had said, "You're going to drive the guys crazy."

Chris walked slowly back to his room feeling like he was in some kind of dream, and clicked off the light switch. Everything in the room was still visible, because of a nearby yard light that made the closed window shade glow like a fluorescent panel. He walked over to the chair where Christine's clothes were draped. Light leaking under the shade was shining on the dress, giving it a lustrous sheen. He ran his finger across the fabric. It felt soft, but substantial. Then he felt the texture of the slip. It felt cool and very smooth. Except for the lace. He swallowed hard, walked over to his bed and sat down.

"There are three steps to becoming a girl," a counselor had said. "Step one is when you dress like a girl. Step two is when you stop being embarrassed by step one. Step three is when you feel good about doing step one and step two." Tomorrow Chris was scheduled to do step one. But tonight it did not look like a step to him. It looked more like a bottomless pit that he was about to be flung into.

A cool breeze wafted through the slightly raised window, and the night sounds of crickets and locusts were just beginning. A whip-poor-will called out in a nearby wood. Normally Chris would enjoy going to sleep to such a splendid chorus. But not tonight. He felt trapped. Trapped in a female body. And trapped in a world where there were no choices. Just the inevitable consequences of careful plans made weeks before. Like it or not, willingly or unwillingly, tomorrow Chris would become a girl. He sat there on his bed, in the dark, for a long time.

Return to Main.