Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction)

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Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction) Page 48

by P. T. Dilloway


  Like before, there comes the awkward moment when the reverend says, “And we’d like to take a moment to welcome some very special guests. Jacob and Teresa Madigan have opened their hearts once again to take in two precious little girls: Stacey and Madison.” I want to slouch down in my seat, but Tess has a hand on my back. My cheeks burn with embarrassment to have a hundred people stare at me. “Now, let’s bow our heads and pray.”

  ***

  Maddy’s new friends wait for her outside. Before we can meet them, we have to endure more attention from the reverend. He bends down so he’s at eye level with us and then shakes each of our hands in turn. “Welcome, Stacey. Welcome, Madison. I hope you enjoyed today’s service.”

  “Yes,” we say together.

  He mercifully turns his attention to Tess and Jake then. While Jake answers how we came to live with him, Maddy tugs on Tess’s sleeve. “Can I go see Margarita and Anita, Grandma?”

  “Very well, dear, but stay where I can see you. Stacey, go with her.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say. Maddy breaks into a run, to rush over to her new friends. They bounce up and down a little with excitement to see each other again.

  Maddy nods to me and says, “This is my big sister, Stacey. She’s ten.”

  “Hi,” I say.

  “You guys want to play tag?” Maddy asks. Then she slaps my arm. “Stacey is it!”

  The girls scatter in three different directions. I jog along the front lawn of the church while Maddy and her friends dart between groups of milling parishioners. They scream like banshees as they run, especially if I get anywhere near them.

  I finally catch Margarita and tap her on the shoulder. “You’re it,” I say. Then it’s my turn to run.

  Margarita catches her sister Anita, who takes losing as gracefully as Maddy would. “No fair!” Anita shouts. “You cheated!”

  “Did not!”

  They squabble for a minute, until Maddy takes charge. “No one cheated,” she says with authority despite her small size. “You’re it, Anita.”

  “I don’t wanna be it.”

  “Too bad.” Maddy glares at Anita, to dare the other girl to challenge her. Anita doesn’t. “You gotta wait ten seconds for us to get a head start.”

  “OK,” Anita says, chastised.

  We play until Margarita and Anita’s mother comes to collect them. Tess isn’t far behind. “Grandma, can I go over to play with Margarita and Anita later?” Maddy asks.

  “Have you finished all your homework?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you may if it’s all right with Mrs. Vasquez.”

  It is all right with Mrs. Vasquez. Maddy and her new friends say goodbye; they promise to see each other soon. I feel like the fifth wheel as I stand off to the side throughout all this.

  On the way home, Maddy nudges me in the ribs. She hisses, “You’re not the only one who can make friends.”

  Chapter 33

  Jamie isn’t at recess on Monday. She and Caleb have their appointments with Dr. Macintosh in the afternoon. Maddy, motivated to add even more friends than the Vasquez sisters, attempts to teach Marcy the Swiss girl how to jump rope. The way Maddy barks at Marcy, I doubt their friendship will ever blossom. Next time I see Dr. Macintosh I should probably mention the bossiness that’s accompanied Maddy’s push to make friends. It’s good, though, to see her with some of her old confidence back.

  With nothing else to do, I sit on the lawn and play with my phone. There are always messages to read and links to click on, despite that most of my two hundred “friends” should be in school right now. This gets boring after a few minutes, so I decide to look for something else to do.

  I see Darren in his usual place under the slide. He scribbles something in his notebook, probably more music. Is he writing a symphony? Maybe an opera. I bet Darren is the type who would like opera, though to me it sounds like someone running a bag of cats through a wood chipper. After a week as partners, he shouldn’t hide his music from me. We’ve sung Cole Porter songs at his uncle’s house, so what’s the big deal if I see his magna opus?

  I borrow a little of Maddy’s attitude as I stomp over to the slide. Without permission, I sit down next to him. “How’s it going?” I ask.

  “Fine.”

  “Is that the same thing you were working on last week?”

  “No. It’s something else.”

  “Really? What?”

  I try to peek over his shoulder, but he blocks me with his body. “Leave me alone!” he shouts.

  “I’m just curious. Come on, we’re partners. Can’t we be friends too? Don’t you like me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” he says again. It’s hard to hear him; his voice sounds like someone’s got a vise around his windpipe. “I do like you.”

  “I like you too, Darren. So why can’t I see what you’re doing?”

  “It’s not finished yet,” he says.

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “I can’t show it to anyone until it’s done.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is too.”

  “Is not.”

  I sigh and shake my head. It’s like when I argue with Maddy. “Fine, be that way. I don’t want to see your stupid symphony anyway.” That’s an old interrogation trick, to supply an answer and hope the perp corrects you with the right one. Darren doesn’t fall for it.

  I take out my phone and feign like I’m checking messages. I even give a fake laugh as if I see something funny. Darren finally relaxes a little; he doesn’t shield the notebook from me quite so much. While I still pretend to text message on the phone, I shift it to my left hand. With my right, I go for the notebook.

  I snatch it off his lap before he can stop me. He is quick, though; he grabs one end of it with his hand. He tries to tug it out of my grasp. “Stop it!” he yells. “You’re going to rip it!”

  “Am not!” We play tug-of-war with the notebook for a minute, until finally it shoots out of both of our hands. Darren is taller than me, but I’m faster than him. I catch the notebook in midair and then roll onto my side. He actually falls over me as he tries to grab it away from me.

  Finally I can see what he’s so embarrassed about. It’s a song, a song about me:

  Stacey, you brighten my days;

  Like a summer sun’s warm rays;

  When I see you I don’t know what to say;

  Except, “I hope you’ll stay.”

  There’s more, but by then my eyes are already too watery to read. Maybe Darren isn’t John Fogerty yet, but it’s a good start. An even better start because he wrote it about me. “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  “It’s stupid, I know,” he says. He tries to take the notebook back, but I won’t let him. He gives one last feeble tug before he gives up. “I was still working on the bridge.”

  “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” I say. This goes beyond the necklace Jamie bought for me; this is something Darren made from his heart for me. Never had I dreamed someone could think me worthy of a song, not me with my glasses, potbelly, and terminal shyness. “You really wrote this for me?”

  He looks down at the ground. “Yes.”

  We’re drawn as if by a magnet towards each other. It’s not a seamless merger; we bang our upper teeth together. Our cheeks turn red at the same moment. “Sorry,” we say in unison. Then we try it again.

  My first kiss as a little girl is what you’d expect: dry and brief, little more than a peck. Yet when we pull back, I sigh as if he’s just ravished me. I stare at him and see him in a new light: Darren, my adorable troubadour. Why didn’t I ever notice before how cute he is, even with the glasses? Or what a perfect couple we make: him at the piano and me singing his words?

  Just like that I have my first boyfriend. Never doubt the power of the Ouija board.

  Part 5:

  Childhood’s End

  Chapter 34

&
nbsp; Dr. Palmer could hear them long before she saw the girls. Half the pediatric ward could hear them squabble. “That’s mine, give it back!” Madison shouts.

  “Is not! Grandma bought it for me,” Stacey shoots back.

  “You don’t even play with it.”

  “I am now.”

  “Gramma!” Madison wails.

  Even from down the hallway and through a door, Dr. Palmer can hear the exasperation in Tess’s voice as she says, “That’s enough, children. Put the toys away or I’ll take them from you.”

  “No fair,” Madison says with a whimper.

  Tess must not realize how loud the kids are and how shitty the hospital’s soundproofing is, as she says, “I want you both to be on your best behavior for the doctor. If you’re very good, Grandma will take you for ice cream.”

  The girls cheer at this. Dr. Palmer shakes her head. It’s hard to believe five months ago these were two young women, one nineteen and the other twenty-three. Even harder to believe eighteen months ago one used to be a fifty-year-old man.

  Now that the girls have been sufficiently bribed, Tess finally opens the door. She looks as tired as she sounds, her skin gray and hair dull, the effects of chasing after two little girls every day. Still, Tess forces a smile to her face. Dr. Palmer can’t be positive, but she’s fairly sure the lines on Tess’s face have deepened. She looks more like a grandmother all the time.

  “Hello, Doctor. I’ve brought your two little patients.”

  “Mr. Madigan couldn’t make it?”

  “He’s working some overtime,” Tess says with a sigh. It isn’t cheap to raise two little girls. Dr. Palmer has offered to help the Madigans out, but they refuse to take any money. Mac has met similar resistance, though they both have money to spare.

  It’s obvious how much the girls have regressed mentally by the way they shy away from Dr. Palmer and stay close to their grandmother. Madison actually clings to Tess with one arm while the other clutches a stuffed rabbit. This despite that they’ve met Dr. Palmer several times in the last three months to monitor their health.

  “Hello, girls,” Dr. Palmer says. She smiles as wide as she can, but that only causes them to whimper in unison. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re still feeling all right.”

  “You’ll be fine, children,” Tess says. “Dr. Palmer hasn’t hurt you before, has she?”

  They shake their heads, but don’t say anything. Dr. Palmer turns to Stacey. “Why don’t you go first? Hop up here on the table.”

  “I don’t wanna,” Stacey says.

  “I promise it’s not going to hurt,” Dr. Palmer says.

  “Is too,” Stacey says.

  “Go on, dear,” Tess says. “Be a big girl and get on the table. Otherwise you’re not going to get any ice cream.”

  The challenge to her pride at being a big girl and promise of ice cream is enough to prompt Stacey to hop up on the table. She turns her head away to face the wall while she sticks out her right arm. It’s hard to believe this little girl scared of a needle used to be a decorated police officer. Dr. Palmer pats Stacey on the arm. “It’s all right,” she coos. “I’ve got something new that isn’t going to hurt at all. You’ll feel just a tiny little prick.”

  It took her staff weeks to reverse-engineer Dr. Ling’s device to measure cellular decay. Once they did, they figured out how to apply the same concepts to one of the newer style diabetes monitors. The end result is about the size of a credit card, with a tapered end that goes into the patient’s skin to extract the needed cells. Much less painful and messy than the old meat thermometer design of Dr. Ling.

  It’s so much better, Stacey doesn’t even flinch until Dr. Palmer has a Snoopy Band-Aid over the area just in case it bleeds a little. “Is it over?” Stacey asks.

  “It’s over. You were very good.”

  The monitor beeps a few seconds later. The digital numbers come back with the reading: 10.8. That’s higher than Dr. Palmer expected. Since Stacey said the first reading came back at exactly ten about five months ago, this reading should be 10.4 if Stacey is aging normally. The higher reading means she’s aged faster than normal, if only by a small amount, not enough to be noticeable.

  “You can sit up now. I just want to check and make sure your heart and breathing are in tip top shape.”

  “OK,” Stacey mumbles. She flinches a little as Dr. Palmer presses the stethoscope to her back. “It’s cold.”

  “I’m sorry.” Everything seems all right. No signs of asthma. Heartbeat is strong and regular. That’s something to be concerned about with as much as Stacey’s body has been through in its lifetimes. “How are your eyes? Glasses still working for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything else? Any tummy aches from eating too many cookies,” Dr. Palmer says. She gives Stacey a playful poke to the belly, but the little girl doesn’t react.

  “I’m fine,” Stacey says. “Can I go now? I promised Jamie I’d call her.”

  “You can go,” Dr. Palmer says. “If I had any lollypops I’d give you one.”

  “Grandma, can I go call Jamie now? I promised to call.”

  “I suppose, but don’t go too far. And don’t get underfoot.”

  “I won’t.” Stacey leaves the room with her phone pressed to her ear. Her voice cranks up in excitement as she says, “Hi, it’s me!”

  Dr. Palmer pats the exam table. “OK, Madison. You’re next.”

  “I don’t wanna,” Madison says and her face reddens. Dr. Palmer knows from experience the toddler is about to throw a tantrum.

  Tess bends down to look Madison in the eyes. “Now, sweetheart, you saw what happened with Stacey. She wasn’t hurt at all. Don’t you want to be a big girl like her?”

  “I am a big girl,” Madison says. To prove it she climbs up the steps to the top of the exam table. Dr. Palmer notes a brown roll of fat becomes visible as Madison climbs up. “See? I did it all by myself.”

  “You sure did,” Dr. Palmer says. She holds up the monitor. “Now, hold out your arm. It’s just going to be a tiny poke.”

  “I don’t wanna be poked.”

  Dr. Palmer pats the head of Madison’s stuffed rabbit. “I bet your bunny wouldn’t mind, would she?”

  “She’s stuffed,” Madison says. She gives Dr. Palmer a pitying look.

  “You’re not afraid, are you? This didn’t hurt Stacey and she’s not a big tough girl like you are.”

  Madison thinks it over. Then she sticks out her arm. Like Stacey she turns her head away. At the same time she clutches the rabbit hard enough that her knuckles turn white. Dr. Palmer expects the rabbit’s seams to burst at any second.

  A few seconds later it’s done. Dr. Palmer puts a Band-Aid over the barely visible hole and then pats Madison on the head. “It’s all over. You were very brave.”

  “Tanks.”

  The monitor beeps a few seconds later; it comes back with a reading of 5.9. No wonder Madison’s clothes are tight: she’s aged a year in about five months. Could it be the aging rates are because of the difference in the girls’s ages or is it because of the different serums Dr. Ling gave them? She makes a mental note to look into it later.

  After she makes sure Madison is a healthy almost six-year-old, Dr. Palmer says, “Why don’t you go find your sister while I talk to Grandma for a minute?”

  “Do I have to, Gramma?”

  “Yes, dear,” Tess says.

  “OK.” Madison trudges from the room.

  Dr. Palmer closes the door. Then she pats Tess’s shoulder. “I think I’d better check out Grandma too.”

  “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

  “Those two keep you busy, don’t they?”

  “They certainly do.” Despite her protests, Tess sits down on the exam table. From the look of it, she would like nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a while. “I forgot what a handful little girls can be. It was hard enough with Jennifer. Having two of them—”

  “I imagine it’
s got to be difficult,” Dr. Palmer says. She puts the stethoscope to Tess’s back to listen for any wheezing that might indicate respiratory problems. “I bet they’re both pretty strong-willed, aren’t they?”

  “They are both headstrong little things when they want,” Tess says. Then she sighs and adds, “But they’re so sweet too. Just this morning Stacey let Madison have the last bowl of cereal.”

  “That’s really considerate of her.”

  “They have such good hearts,” Tess says. And then she breaks down. She starts to sob like one of her little charges.

  Dr. Palmer isn’t prepared for this. She takes a couple of tissues from a dispenser on the counter. Tess takes these and wipes futilely at her eyes. “It’s all right,” Dr. Palmer says.

  Tess needs a few minutes to collect herself. Once her tears have mostly dried, she forces another smile to her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “It’s fine,” Dr. Palmer says. “I see those girls and sometimes I want to cry too. What happened to them isn’t something anyone should have to endure. But it’s good they have someone like you to help them through it.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Tess says.

  “Look, if you and Jake can manage to find a sitter for the kids, I’ve got something to show you at the lab. We’ve made some great headway on the problem.”

  “You have a cure?”

  “Not yet, but we’re getting close.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Tess says, but a moment later she frowns. “What happens if you can change their bodies back? They’ll still be children inside.”

  “I know, but maybe seeing themselves grown up will unearth the old memories. Dr. Macintosh thinks the regression isn’t permanent. He says it’s more like a wall their subconscious is putting up to help them adapt to their surroundings. Once their bodies are restored, those walls will get knocked down.”

  “But still, what about their new friends? Stacey and Jamie have become so close. It will hurt them both terribly. Madison has her own little friends too. She’s quite popular at school and in the neighborhood.”

  “Kids are resilient. They’ll make new friends.”

 

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