What would you do if you suddenly changed Gender in a public place? That's the question that now faces our intrepid young lad/lady.

Elan Owen


Chapter 2: The Girl in Boy's clothing.


By Jesse Rabbit
Edited by Erin Halfelven of bigcloset.ateros.com

Now, there I was, leading a perfectly normal life - well, mostly, aside from being a genius from a family of rich mostly insane geniuses, being the youngest, and smallest, person in my grade, having a best friend who was (if possible) stranger than me, just as smart, and a girl at that - and then this happens to me. I've been turned into a girl by my dead insane grandpa, or at least by his watch. What the hell was I gonna do?

I just sat there on the toilet seat, completely stunned, unable to think of anything besides the fact that I had suddenly changed gender for no reason I could imagine. I - Elan Owen - born a boy, lived as a boy for the last eleven years, was a girl. What the HELL was I gonna do?

Well apparently I was going to sit on that toilet seat with my pants and underwear around my ankles until doomsday, ‘cause my brain was too busy gibbering and screaming inside to be bothered controlling my body. So it just sat there going "bu…bu…bu…bu…" very softly. WHAT THE HELL WAS I GONNA DO?

The sound of pounding feet finally broke me out of my stunned state, at least enough to not scream again when the door to the bathroom swung open so hard that all the mirrors over the sinks rattled and the paper-towel dispenser fell open, dumping them all over the floor with a fwumping noise. Instead I just jumped like a meter into the air and banged my head against the wall.

"Is everything okay in here?" I heard this booming male voice ask and I realized that as bad as things were at that moment, they would get much, much worse if Mr. Jankowski - whose voice that was, and who was the biggest rectum at the school, and who had taught my least favorite class last year (Russian, yerg, gah!) - if Mr. Jankowski opened the stall door and saw me half naked and a girl.

So I panicked for about a second, then - still panicking - pulled up my pants, almost ripping my Darth Grell boxers in the process, hastily tucked my shirt and sweater into my pants, tugged my belt tight fastening it one hole further along than normal, and called out, "Yes Mr. Jankowski, a spider just landed on my head is all. Sorry sir." I absently realized that my voice sounded a little higher pitched than before, maybe half an octave or so. For a moment I was thrilled, maybe I could be lead soprano in choir now (At Cascade Middle lead always goes to a supra-soprano and I was only meso-before.) before I remembered that the reason I could now sing at a higher pitch was ‘cause I WAS A GIRL!

Mr. Jankowski demanded I come out so he could see that I was okay - and that I wasn't doing drugs or playing with myself or torturing another student or something but he didn't say that part. So I tried to straighten myself up, grabbed my bag, and opened the door. Mr. Jankowski was standing there, towering and glowering - he's really good at that ‘cause he used to be a Marine and he is like six foot nine and has this huge scar over one eye. He scanned the stall with his good eye and then, once he verified that it was clean and clear he turned his gaze on me. I felt like melting into my Doc Martens.

"I see no spi…" He started and then began turning red. I quaked in my Docs, suppressing a whimper, but stumbled backward a step. I nearly peed myself I was so scared. Then he growled in this low, rumbly voice, "This is the boy's room. Girls are not allowed. If I ever catch you in here again, misssss…."

I realized that he was trying to remember my name and frantically raced through the list of 6th grader girls I knew before my mind settled on the most obvious choice. "Of course!" I nearly chortled in mad glee, but restrained it using a mental trick my grandpa showed me when I was seven. He said it had kept the men in white coats from dragging him to the loony farm more times than he had had hot lunches. Keeping my face clear of laughter, which at that point would most likely have degenerated into hysterical sobbing very quickly, I said "Michelle Owen, Sir."

<>

Mr. J nodded and grunted, "You're Elan's kid sister?" I paused and then nodded, having to check the logic in my mind. He continued without seeming to notice the pause "I had him last year in Russian. You gonna be in my class Missy?" I shook my head a little too rapidly and he laughed, a big booming, thundering laugh, which caused the mirrors to rattle again. "Elan told you horror stories huh? Well, get along to class with you, and don't be going to the boy's room again, clear?"

I nodded so hard that my head nearly came off and was about to flee the room when Mr. J stopped me with a huge hand on my shoulder. "Your sweater is tucked into your pants. You might want to fix that before the other girls make fun of you." I nearly choked, Mr. J being nice? The world was going all strange on me, but then again, five minutes ago I was a boy, so I guess this was par for the course. I nodded mutely and pulled the sweater free as I hurried down the hall towards the band room, not looking back.

As soon as I turned the corner, I slumped against the wall, clutching my chest and shuddering all over. What in the name of all that was unholy was I gonna do?

I looked around, knowing that the first thing I was going to need to do was find someplace quiet and private to think. My room would be best, but that was almost a mile away by bike and the bikes were right in front of the school office, where anyone could see me taking it and bugging out early, which I was allowed to do but not without signing out and having the school call my parents. But I couldn't go to class, couldn't go to the office claiming I was sick, couldn't stay here ‘cause the lunch bell was going to ring any second and then the halls would be flooded with students and they'd all know that I was a girl…

Then it hit me, they would know that I was a girl, but they wouldn't know the girl was Elan Owen, at least not unless they looked close. So all that left was what to do until I could get home, where could I hide and think.

The bell rang then, nearly causing me to scream again, but I clamped both hands over my mouth and all that came out was a mild squeak. The halls flooded with students heading from class to second lunch or heading back to class from first lunch. I slipped into the stream of prospective lunch eaters and wound my way towards the library.

As it turned out I was paying a little too much attention to getting to my destination, and not enough on what was right in front of me. It was thus that I collided with someone rather hard and went down like a bag of flour. I looked up and flushed bright red as I realized that Jim Golwar, Davis Hastings, and Tyrone Bigs-Major were all staring down at me. They were the three coolest boys in school (not to mention toughest and most athletic, Jim being on the softball and track teams, Davis on soccer and track, and Tyrone on soccer, swim, and track.) I gulped, figuring that I was in for a beating for colliding with the personal space of the Primo Trio as they called themselves, let alone for having collided with the person of at least one of them. Then the world did something funny (As in ice down underwear or pie in the face funny) again. Jim and Tyrone almost banged heads as they both bent down, extending hands to lift me up. In fact the only reason they didn't is ‘cause Ty is like a foot taller than Jim. They grabbed my hands and pulled me up, smiling as if they didn't want to pound me into goo.

"Hey there Missy, you okay?" asked Davis, winking at me as if sharing a joke. "These two brutes didn't hurt you none? You'll have to forgive them, they forget that they aren't doors sometime." All three smiled at me and after I nodded that I was okay, they smiled at me again and then turned and walked away. Just as they turned the corner I heard Tyrone say "She's cute." and then Jim said, "I saw her first, butt-munch." I couldn't make out anymore because my heart was thumping too loudly in my chest. I practically fled into the library and hid in the magazine stacks at the back, where no one ever goes unless they have a paper to write.

I slumped to the floor, hugged my knees to my chest and gulped for air. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!!!!!!! I was a girl. I was trapped in school until it let out and I could bike home. I was going to miss my last four classes of the day, well three and study hall. The school would call my parents and tell them I skipped. Karen was almost certain to wait for me, then bike to my house and demand an explanation as to why I skipped class and even worse blew her off and didn't tell her I was skipping so she could come too. She'd think I was doing something fun and be mad that I hadn't invited her and if I denied it she'd just be convinced that she was right. In addition to that, I was missing a quiz in algebra, had to figure out how to reverse this and until then figure out how to hide my new female body, especially from Michelle, but mostly from my parents. I had to get to that manual. And as if all that wasn't bad enough, now I had the three biggest, toughest, strongest boys - well at least two of them - fighting over me. Boyfriends I didn't need, even if I had been a real girl, considering I was still an eleven-year-old girl and they were thirteen-year-old boys. A tiny voice in the back of my mind commented that they were very handsome boys and I could do worse if I was stuck as a girl. I squashed that voice like everyone in my family squashed their own little voices - at least most of the time. See? Coming from a family of loonies helps… with something or other I'm sure.

I just sighed and sat there, hugging my knees, waiting for the final bell to ring and free me from this prison, and worrying about what I was gonna do next.

I compiled a short list: 1 - get home. 2 - read manual. 3 - figure out how to change back. 4 - don't panic. Little did I know how hard it was going to be to complete even one of those things and at least one was not going to be even vaguely possible.

To be continued in Part 3 - the Five Minute Rule.

Elan, his family, friends, and Story are copyright 2002 Jesse Rabbit, who may be reached at Terabiel@hotmail.com. Feel free to distribute as long as you do it for free. Anyone who wants to adapt this into any other medium (Like a movie, hint hint) should leave me a comment with an email addy. :P Thanks and enjoy.

since 12/05/02