1.

“So, how’d the basketball game go?” Melanie asked me when I got home.

I plopped down on the couch. “Well, our team won. Barely.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Dean wasn’t playing all that well.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Dean? Dean the guy who’s house you broke into Dean?”

I nodded. “The very same. It was like he didn’t know how to play basketball. I could play better than he could, and I’m crappy at basketball.”

She scratched at her chin. “Did that sorceress say anything about Dean being punished?”

I nodded again. “She did, and I was thinking the same thing. I’m just confused about what’s going to happen to Steve.”

“If he was turning into a girl, we would have noticed it by now.” She sat down beside me. For some reason, she grabbed my arm and took a very close examination of my hand.

“What the hell?” I asked.

“I’m looking at your hand.”

“I can see that.”

“No, look at your hand.”

I pulled my hand away from her and took a good long look at it. There was something different about it, but I couldn’t place it. Was it my fingers? Was it my fingernails? What was it? “I don’t get it.”

She held her own hand out and put mine right up against it. “Look.”

That was creepy. Our hands looked identical. If somebody was looking at our hands, the only difference being that Melanie had painted fingernails.

2.

I sat on my bed and looked at my hands for awhile. It was weird how much they looked like Melanie’s. My nails looked a little different, but that was about it. When had that happened? Why hadn’t I noticed it before Melanie pointed it out?

I got up and grabbed my tablet, then returned to my bed. I tapped on the internet icon and stared at the Google homepage for awhile. What would I look up? I set the tablet back down on my night stand and laid down.

I felt myself drifting off to sleep, and the last thing that crossed my mind before sleep overtook me was how my fingernails would look with nail polish on them.

3.

“C’mon!” I said, trying to draw Steve’s attention. He wasn’t really talking to me. “You said you wanted to hang out more, so why are you the one who doesn’t want to hang out now?”

He shook his head. “I just… How is it gonna be fun sitting around watching you do your stuff?”

“‘Do my stuff’? What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

He sighed. “Y’know, like when you try on clothes or paint your nails, that sort of stuff. Girl stuff.”

Ugh! Really? “How often do I do ‘girl stuff’ around you? Huh? Last time we hung out, all we did was watch movies.” I plopped down on the couch beside him. I was happy I was wearing shorts. If I was wearing as skirt, I couldn’t just plop down. “Most of the time all we do is play video games. How has anything really changed?”

He looked away from me. “How can you say that? Everything has changed, and I think you’re the only one who doesn’t notice it.”

How could he say that? Of course I noticed what was changing, but how has our relationship changed?

“I… I’ve noticed,” I said, though my voice sounded weaker than I thought it should. “But… We’re still friends, right?”

He turned back to me and said, “Wake up, bro, Mom and Dad are on the phone.”

4.

I slowly opened my eyes and saw Melanie standing there holding the phone. I reached out, grabbed it, and then pulled the covers back up over my head. “Hello?”

Mom’s voice came over the phone. “Melanie, put your brother on the phone, seriously.”

What? What?! “What?!” I asked. I sat up and brushed my bangs away from my face. Wait, my bangs? I don’t have bangs. What the hell?

“I asked you to put Adam on the phone, remember?”

“Mom, this is Adam!”

“Sweetie, please, this got annoying when you two were little.”

Melanie grabbed the phone from my hands and pressed a button. “Mom, he’s not joking, that was Adam. I put us on speaker.”

Mom asked, “Adam? Honey? Say something.”

For some stupid reason, the only thing that popped into my head was: “Can you hear me now?” That was when I heard it. I didn’t exactly sound like Melanie, but I didn’t sound like a boy anymore.

“What’s going on? Why do you sound so strange?”

Melanie sighed. “I was gonna call you guys and tell you later. Adam’s kinda… Well… He’s…”

“He’s what?” Mom asked. “You’re what, Adam?”

I really didn’t want to answer that question. I knew I’d need to eventually, but that didn’t make this any easier. How do you tell your parents that you’re turning from boy to girl? How do you explain to them that a sorceress cursed you because you broke into a dumbass’s house to steal something back from him? How? How?

A part of my brain told me that this shouldn’t be hard at all. Tell the truth, that part of my brain told me. They’ll understand. Except that they won’t, obviously. The whole thing sounded so damned fantastical that if somebody really understood it, they should be committed to a nut house.

“Adam?” Mom asked again. Every time she asked, I wanted to hang up the phone, but I knew that’d scare her even more. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“I’m… Turning into a girl, Mom.” Was that so hard? Was that so hard? Yes. Yes, it was. That was ridiculously painful. I felt like I’d just told her that I was dying. I almost felt like I was dying. Well, technically, I was. Male Adam was dying, so very slowly, while Female Amanda was just as slowly being born.

Except it didn’t feel like I was changing so slowly. I reached under my shirt and scratched at my itchy chest. That was when I felt a strange puffiness to my chest. Oh. Great. I knew what was coming next. What’s that one thing a boy notices about a girl? Every boy I came into contact with was now going to start noticing me.

Well, that’s not true. They weren’t big enough to even be noticed under my shirt. For at least a little while, I’d still be able to somewhat pass for a boy.

“What did you say?” Mom asked, bringing me out of my boob daze and back into the current situation.

“I said I’m turning into a girl, Mom. It’s… A whole weird story, but it’s happening. By Friday, I’m not gonna be Adam anymore.”

“Honey, that’s impossible.”

Melanie shook her head, like Mom could see her. “He’s not lying, Mom. He looks more like a girl than he does a boy, now.”

That wasn’t a good thing to hear. I was only three days into this curse and already I looked more female than male? Crap. How much morefemale would I get in the next four days? Or would I be done on day six? Crap, crap, crappity, crap, crap.

5.

“Does anyone else know about this?” Dad asked. I could hear the concern in his voice.

“Just Steve, since he was there.”

“The Garnet boy doesn’t know anything?”

“I dunno. I don’t think he’d try to play last night if did know about the curse.”

“Why didn’t you call straight away?”

I laughed. ‘Would you have really believed me? This doesn’t sound crazy to you?”

“I didn’t say that, kiddo, but you still should have told us.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see that. “I know. I was just… Scared.”

I hoped he would understand that. I’ve never seen my dad scared of anything, but I assumed he’d been scared of something before. Hell, maybe he was scared now. I didn’t know.

“Dad… What’s gonna happen to me?” I asked. My fear was asking the question, really.

He didn’t say anything at first, then, “I dunno, kiddo. I dunno.”

6.

I walked into Melanie’s room and sat down at her vanity. She wasn’t home, so she wouldn’t see me. Not that I cared, it would probably be a good thing if Melanie were here. She was taking this all very well, and I was pleased about that. I don’t know if I could stand teasing from her while I’m turning into a girl.

I looked at all the make-up she had just sitting around on her vanity. She didn’t have too much, but it looked like a lot to me. Mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, lipstick, four or five different shades of each. How did she keep track of all this?

I took a breath, then reached for one of the lipstick tubes. Why was I even considering this? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid… I pulled the cap off and found a weird dark purple shade. Do girls really like weird colors like this on their lips? It looked goofy as hell to me. I took another breath and put the tube to my lips.

What was I doing? Why was I doing this? What if Melanie used this the last time she had the flu? I could be giving myself the flu. I’m an idiot. I drew the lipstick across my upper lip, then my lower lip, then put the cap back on the tube.

I puckered my lips and looked at myself in the mirror. I did a surprisingly adequate job, just a little mistake on my lower lip.

I took stock of my face for the first time in the last two days. Overall, I didn’t look too different. My eyes a little wider, my lips a little fuller (though that could have been because of the lipstick), I swear my cheeks were a little puffier. I reached up and touched the barrettes that Melanie had given me to clip my bangs back. That was the closest she’d come to making fun of me, but she’d apologized for it straight away. These are pink, but that shouldn’t bother you, too much, she’d said, sorry, bro… I didn’t mean it like that.

I sighed. Time to wash off the lipstick. I stood up and made my way for the door, then stopped. Melanie’s closet was right there, right beside the door. I sighed again. Yet another thing that I really shouldn’t be doing, but since I’d be wearing stuff like that soon enough…

I reached inside and grabbed a tank top and a pair of shorts that were easy to get to. I took off my own shorts and shirt and then my own morbid curiosity made me take my underwear off. I’d already promised to do the laundry today, Melanie wouldn’t get too mad, would she? I reached into her underwear drawer and laughed as loudly as I could. Right on top was the pair of panties that had been involved in the event that had caused this whole sad affair in the first place.

I pulled the panties out of the drawer and unfolded them. They were pink with an orange waistband. They looked so tiny, like they’d never fit any girl that ever wore them. Again, I asked myself why I was doing this. I sat down on the edge of Melanie’s bed, slipped one leg in one hole, and the other leg in the other hole, then pulled the panties up. After getting them over my hips, I took another breath and looked at myself in her wall mirror.

I started to sweat some. I didn’t look goofy at all. The bulge in the front of the panties wasn’t even that big. I’d never say I was the biggest guy around anyway, but I wasn’t that small before.

I put my shrunken “head” out of my mind and reached for the shorts. They were tighter than the jeans I’d worn the night before, but still not painful, or even awkward. Another look in the mirror, and I’d almost swear I was a girl from the waist down. What little hair I had on my legs didn’t even hinder the image.

I grabbed the shirt and pulled it down over my head. As the shirt touched my nipples, I felt something… Odd. Was this feeling just the shirt rubbing against my nipples? I pulled the shirt back off and looked at my chest in the mirror. Were my nipples a little more puffy? I looked down and saw, for the first time, the slight curve of my breasts. They were actually starting to pop out, as opposed to how they were even this morning.

The reality of the situation was hitting me hard, now. I couldn’t wear any of Melanie’s shirts with my nipples - no, let’s just say it, my breasts - this sensitive, and wearing one of my own shirts would be completely against what this little curiosity experiment was all about. I knew exactly what I’d need to do, and the idea of it was embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as I knew it would eventually be to go into a store and get the measuring done. I pulled open the drawer underneath Melanie’s panty drawer and found them. Something compelled me to actually try and match tops to bottoms, so I found the bra that went with the panties I was wearing.

Dammit, this was awkward. Not trying to put one on, just the idea that I would need to put one on. I slipped my arms through the straps and struggled to reach behind me and get the hooks together in the back. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to do it after a little trial and error. Then I adjusted it on my chest, made it feel a little more comfortable. Yet another look in the mirror and the image of me wearing a bra and girl shorts was just creepy. I pulled the tank top on yet again and the image was complete.

Amanda didn’t actually look too out of place. Really, she looked very natural, very real.

I sat down on Melanie’s bed, my eyes never leaving that reflection. I wasn’t even Adam anymore, was I?