My mood remained at rock-bottom the rest of Sunday afternoon and into the evening. I'd have skipped dinner entirely but my mom always made something special for Sunday night and not coming to dinner wasn't an option. I didn't eat much though, I didn't have any appetite.

Monday wasn't much better. I had my math exam in the morning and a biology exam in the afternoon, and I was fairly confident I flunked the first one. I wasn't so sure about biology, there was a slim chance I might have passed that. When I got home I headed straight up to my room to study for my history exam on Tuesday.

We had leftovers for dinner, then I was back in my room studying again. Mom went to bed around ten like usual, and it was about eleven when dad finally turned off his TV and came upstairs to get ready for bed as well. I turned out my bedroom light too, then waited another half hour to be sure before getting started.

I was just pulling out a few seed packets when the darkness outside my window momentarily lit up with a flash of lightning. The crack of thunder followed a moment later, accompanied by the sound of rain.

"Oh come on," I sighed to myself as I moved to the window to check. Sure enough it looked like a full-on storm out there.

For the next few seconds I waffled back and forth on what to do. I had two more exams tomorrow, including one first thing in the morning. If I went out in the downpour I'd get soaked and probably muddy. Then I'd need a shower, then I'd need to dry off before bed. I'd been planning a quick five or ten minute outing to sprinkle seeds around, then I was going to go straight to bed. Now I was looking at an hour of clean-up after a couple minutes outside.

I looked down at the seed packets as I thought about putting it off till tomorrow night. Except I'd meant to do it at the full moon, and that was tonight. And I made a promise the night before, to both myself and Cynthia. The packet on the top of the stack was common purple violets, and I decided that had to be a sign. About the only thing that would have been more perfect was pink hyacinths, but they didn't sell seeds for those.

"Ok," I whispered to myself. "Storm or not, I made a promise. I have to keep it."

I stuffed the packets into my jeans pocket then slipped out into the hall, and quietly made my way down the stairs. I grabbed my sneakers then practically tip-toed to the kitchen door, which was the opposite end of the house from my parents' room. I pulled on my shoes then finally opened the door and stepped out into the pouring rain.

There was no trace of the full moon, it was nothing but low clouds, driving rain, and the occasional flash of lightning. The only constant source of light was from a streetlamp in front of the empty lot. And even in that dull yellow-tinged light, through the rain and wind, the sight of that barren lifeless ground next door made me feel sick.

I shuffled over into the middle of it, then fished the first seed packet out of my pants. Despite only being in the rain for less than a minute I was already soaked, and the ground under my feet was a squidgy mess of mud and shredded plants. I tried to tear open the little packet but whatever they did to make the paper waterproof also made it too slippery for my rain-soaked fingers to tear it open.

There was another flash of lightning overhead and the storm seemed to pick up even worse as I stood there trying to tear open a stupid plasticized paper pouch. My emotions churned with a mix of sadness, frustration, and maybe even a bit of hopelessness. Realistically I knew I was wasting my time. It was over a month late to be planting violet seeds, and the other seeds I had in my pocket should have been started even earlier.

My shoulders slumped and I stood there for a few moments feeling somewhere between desperate, foolish, and sad. I almost gave up.

"Just a few seeds damn it," I told myself. "Just spread a few seeds, then I can say I've kept my promise."

I wiped my wet hands on my wet pants for all the good it did, then tried once more to open the packet. This time it gave all at once, and I suddenly felt the sharp cringe-inducing pain of a really bad paper cut.

"Ah crap!" I muttered between clenched teeth.

I turned on the spot until I could see my hand in the dim light of the streetlamp, and sure enough the rainwater soaking the palm of my hand was stained red. It was probably the nastiest paper cut I'd had in ages, right across the crease at the bottom of my right thumb. The worst possible place, it was going to hurt for days.

"Unbelievable," I muttered. I shook my head, my short hair was plastered to my head as the rain kept coming down in sheets. With a sigh I asked, "Can things get any worse tonight?"

"No wait, don't answer that," I added with a grimace.

At least the seed packet was open. I winced in pain as I carefully held it in my injured hand then sort of turned on the spot as I shook it, emptying its contents out in a haphazard circle in the middle of the empty lot.

Once the packet was empty I stomped back towards the house. I remembered to keep the noise down as I let myself back in through the kitchen door, then slipped off my muddy shoes. My shirt, pants, and socks were all totally soaked, along with the rest of me.

I was just trying to decide if I'd have a shower or if I'd just towel myself off and go to bed when the kitchen light came on. Dad was standing in the doorway in his pyjamas, frowning as he looked me up and down.

"What the hell were you doing out in the rain?" he demanded. Then his eyes flicked down to my right hand. I was still holding the empty seed packet, and it was too late to hide it. He gave me an exasperated look as he added, "Seriously?!"

"They're violets," I stated defensively. "Not weeds. Not garbage, or crap, or trash. They're flowers, and they're mine."

Dad just slowly shook his head as he frowned at me, but he didn't bother to argue. I didn't say anything else either, I just moved to the kitchen counter.

I threw the empty package in the bin under the sink, then rinsed my hand under the tap. I'd meant to clean out that cut, but a moment later I'd all but forgotten about my dad as I stared at my hand in confusion. There was no trace of the paper-cut. There wasn't even a mark or anything, it was like it never happened.

"What the heck?" I mumbled to myself as I continued looking at my hand.

Dad was still standing in the kitchen doorway, and he was still staring at me. After a few seconds he asked, "What have you done with your hair?"

"Huh?" I asked as I looked over at him. "I haven't done anything with it. It's just wet from the rain."

He shook his head as he stalked right up to me, and I felt a disorienting lurch as I realized he seemed taller than normal. Meanwhile dad was frowning at the top of my head as he demanded, "When did you dye your hair?"

"What?" I asked. "Dad what are you talking about?"

By that point mom was up as well, she'd probably heard dad's voice and realized the kitchen light was on. She came down in her nightgown and housecoat, and as soon as she saw me she started complaining.

"What were you doing out in the rain? Look at those muddy shoes, now I have to wash the kitchen floor again! Your socks are filthy too, and your pants. I'm going to have to do laundry tomorrow."

Dad ignored everything mom said as he pointed, "Look at the boy's hair! Did you know he dyed it? Did you have anything to do with this?"

"I didn't dye it!" I insisted, but my heart was racing. Both my parents seemed taller than they should have been, and my voice sounded a little off. I chalked it up to the emotions and confusion, but something strange was going on and I had no idea what.

Mom looked at me then frowned, "Didn't you just get a haircut two weeks ago? Why's it so long now?"

"What?!" I gasped as I reached up and grabbed a handful of my wet hair.

As soon as I felt it I knew there was too much. I pulled it forward and there was more than enough to hold out in front of my face where I could see it. It was hard to tell for sure because it was still wet, but I was positive it wasn't the same dull brown colour I'd had all my life. It looked...

My hair was purple.

Not any purple either, it was the colour I always wanted. And it was long, and seemed to be a messy mixture of tight and loose curls.

"Holy crap," I whispered to myself. "It's violet... It's Violet!"

I looked up at my parents again, and felt another lurch. They were definitely taller than before. And neither of them was looking angry anymore, both of them were staring at me with wide eyes. Dad's mouth was hanging open, while mom had a hand up over hers.

"What's happening to you?" my dad asked quietly.

"I'm -" I started to respond but cut myself off with a gasp. My voice wasn't just a little off, it was distinctly higher pitched.

My heart was going a mile a minute by that point. I looked down at myself and my heart skipped a beat as I let out a startled gasp. My soaking-wet t-shirt was clinging to my body like a second skin, and there was absolutely no hiding the two small lumps that had appeared on my chest in the last few minutes. Equally obvious were my narrower shoulders and slim waist. The cuffs of my jeans were crumpled on the floor hiding my feet, and the waist of my jeans had slipped down to my hips which were noticeably wider than I remembered.

"Son?" dad asked softly. "Are you ok? What's happening to you?"

I tore my eyes from my body and looked up at my parents again. I gulped and shook my head, "I don't know? But um..."

By that point I couldn't help smiling. In fact I was probably grinning ear to ear as I told my parents, "I don't know how or why this is happening, but it seems like as good a time as any to tell you both I'm trans? I'm really a girl. And my real name is Violet."

Mom and dad continued to stare at me in silent shock for the next few seconds. When it became clear they weren't going to say anything I glanced down at myself and stifled a surprised happy laugh as I realized whatever was happening it hadn't finished yet. My chest had grown from two small lumps to what could only be described as a pair of full-sized breasts. And my wet hair was now hanging down well past my shoulders. My jeans were threatening to slide off completely at any moment, and my wet t-shirt was hanging off my narrow shoulders while revealing way too much detail about my boobs.

"Excuse me!" I suddenly said as I moved past my parents and over to the wall next to the kitchen table.

Mom had a decorative mirror there for some reason, and normally I avoided looking at any mirrors if I could help it. But now I needed to see, I had to know what I looked like.

"Oh my gosh!" I gasped happily.

Instead of my normal dysphoria-inducing mug I found myself looking at a girlish face that was undeniably cute. My lips were full and pink, my eyes wide and bright. The colour in them had lightened from dull brown to a light lively green. My skin was fair, and my face was framed with still-damp hair that was long and purple and curly.

I was still staring happily at myself a few seconds later when it suddenly struck me and I felt another lurch. I looked a lot like the girl with the pink hair, from all those years ago. My face, my eyes, my lips, my smile. My hair was close too, but it was my shade of purple instead of her pink. I didn't look exactly like her, I wasn't a twin or double. I could probably pass for Cynthia's cousin though, or maybe even her sister.

Mom finally found her voice and nervously asked, "You're... Are you smiling?"

"Mom I'm so happy I don't know whether to laugh or cry!" I exclaimed as I turned around and looked at her. "I must have wished for something like this more than a thousand times! But I never thought it could actually come true?"

"You..." dad's voice faltered. He gulped then tried again, "You're a girl. I don't believe it, but you just turned into a girl, right before our eyes."

This time I couldn't hold back, I let out a very happy laugh. Only it came out as a cute giggle, and that just made me giggle again. "I'm a girl! My name is Violet and I'm a girl! I've always been a girl inside but now I'm a girl on the outside too!"

"I think I need a drink," dad mumbled to himself.

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