Note: This story is a sequel to Blue Nails, so you might want to read it first, if you haven't already. I am posting it in several parts as I have time to work on them, since Mark/ Annie and Sarah Beth just keep sneaking back into my imagination when I’m not looking, and doing things that I had never expected them to. Please be assured that it is a work of fiction, the product of my febrile little imagination! Thanks for all your encouragement. Emmie

 

The Adventures of Annie             by: Emmie Dee                 © 2000

Part 1

 

The Ring, Please

Okay, so I'll take Julie and Sarah Beth's advice (well, my mom's and Mrs. Holding's, too), and tell more of our story. That's what I get to showing it to people, I guess. But Julie had to see it, because she had to know what she was doing earlier this summer, in case anybody asked her. Well, not actually what she was doing. What I was doing, while pretending to be her. Now you're really confused, and the more I explain it you will become totally confused. Is it worth the risk?

Last spring, Sarah Beth Holding, my girlfriend, lost her right leg to bone cancer. She was invited to live for 6 weeks at a place called Hope Haven, so she could have outpatient physical therapy and chemotherapy at our state's children's hospital, near the university. The only catch was, she needed a family member to be a "healing partner" and roommate. Her mom and dad both worked, and were too strapped with medical bills to take off. Julie, her sister, had to work at summer sports clinics to keep her work/athletic scholarship at Westview College, the only way she could afford to go. So they convinced me (wore me down) that I could pass as Julie, and be Sarah's healing partner. So with a lot of help, I became Annie—the name came from the fact that Julie's middle name is Annette and mine is Andrew. So my slender bicycle racer's physique was covered with padding, my beard with makeup, my hair with blond curls, and my body with a feminine wardrobe that had to be seen to be believed.

It was only for 6 weeks, I kept telling myself. But our lives became involved with the lives of other people at Hope Haven and the hospital, and we wanted to stay involved with some of them. And Sarah Beth told me that she didn't want Annie to just disappear, that there would be times it would be comforting for her to have Annie around. And, to tell you the truth, I became rather fond of the old girl myself. So when we returned home, I went back to my guy clothes, my jeep, my bikes, and my short hair, but I knew that Annie would never be far away.

My plan had been, the next day after we got back to Fort Russell, to ask Sarah Beth to marry me. Thanks to Mrs. Cameron, a wealthy rancher's wife, I even had a solitaire diamond ring to give her. (Her son, Roger, only 14, was dying of brain cancer, and had never been out on a date. So as Annie, I dated him, and she financed the whole operation.) Anyway, Sarah Beth was too tired to go anywhere that day, so we postponed it. The next weekend was rainy and windy, rare here in the mountains. So finally, two weeks after we came home, I drove her up to old Fort Russell, a beautiful historical park up in the foothills above our town. We had a picnic, sat on benches, and strolled along the paths, with her leaning on her cane to help balance her and keep some pressure off her stump and prosthetic leg.

At one point she stood in front of me, took my hands, and said, "Mark, I know what you want to ask me. And I know how I want to answer. We've been thinking about it for years. You were great to be with me at Hope Haven. I couldn't have made it without you. I love you more than ever."

The lines of her face told me that she wanted to say something that she didn't really want to say. "Is there a but coming after all that?" I asked.

"BUT…" she continued, "a year ago, even early last Spring, we would have bicycled out here. Or we'd have climbed the steep trails up the ravines. I wouldn't have been hobbling at about one mile an hour along the paved flat nature trail. You're a natural athlete. I'll just hold you back."

"Hey, beautiful," I replied. "We've talked about this. I wish that you could be strong and two-legged again so we could do more of that stuff together, but it doesn't change the way I feel about you. I have more fun every time I'm with you than I do when I'm racing or climbing or whatever."

"Beautiful?" she asked. "Under this wig, I'm bald, and I'm missing a major body part and walk like Donald Duck, and you still think I'm beautiful? Have you had your eyes checked lately?" I decided to respond to that one with a major kiss.

After we unpuckered, I said, "You're bald and beautiful right now, and your hair will grow back soon enough, anyway. And you'll always be beautiful to me."

"You're not just saying that out of pity?" Another kiss. Long. Slurpy.

"I admire you."

"You're crazy," she grinned.

"I know."

"Yes," she said.

Now I was confused. "Yes what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you, silly."

"But I haven't asked yet," I pouted. "And I can't ask here. It has to be over at that bench." So we made our way up there, to the overlook. I asked. She said yes again. I put the ring on her finger. We hugged. We cried. We talked.

Neither set of parents went ballistic, but both were concerned. We explained that we weren't getting married right now, that we wouldn't elope, that we hadn't set a date, and that it wouldn't effect our plans for our senior year of high school or of going to the university a year from now. We both have a reputation for being smart, level-headed, trustworthy, and boring, so they finally hugged us and gave us their blessing.

As the summer finished, I raced a lot, did odd jobs to make some money, and brought school clothes. Guys' school clothes, thank you, Sarah Beth and Julie. I had a few good races in me, although I had missed too much of the summer season. At least I could continue in the fall. It looked doubtful that I would get to Category 2 as a racer this year, as I had originally planned. But maybe next year. I knew that I didn't have the potential to ever become a category 1 or a pro, at least without being able to train and race full-time or have a personal trainer. And both the Holdings and the Jansens were on the lower end of middle-class salary brackets, so there was a fat chance of that ever happening. At least, I got to spend more time with Rick Cousins. He's a bicycling buddy and a school friend, the kind you can just relax with and not have to pretend you're something you're not. Rick is interracial, with a white mom and African-American dad. That keeps him out of all sorts of in-groups of both colors. We're both athletic, although not much into school sports—we both run track in the Spring, and that's about it, so we're not in with the jocks. Rick, Sarah Beth, and I are all good students, but we don't try to impress others with it, so we don't fit in with the self-proclaimed "brains." We're not really considered geeks. We're not druggies. We go to church, but aren't fanatical about it, so we don't hang with the super-pious crowd. We just try to blend in.

"Rick, whenever the wedding is, I want you to be the best man, okay, bud?" I asked when I told him about our engagement.

"Sure, Mark, if you want me." I could tell by his face that he was uncomfortable.

"What do you mean, if I want you?" I asked.

"I've not come out, because of the homophobia in this town, but…."

"Come out? Homophobia?" I repeated.

"Yeah. I'm gay. Definitely gay."

That was a little bit of a surprise—not a shock, but it caught me off guard. I know he didn't date much, but he seemed to enjoy looking at foxy girls as much as anyone. I guess that was all he enjoyed, though. My favorite aunt back in Ohio is a lesbian, so our family has never been prejudiced against gays. But it was still a surprise.

"You're sure?" I asked. "Duh. Sorry." I reached out and touched his arm. "It's okay, that doesn't change our friendship or how I feel about you. And yes, I still want you to be best man." It would be an interesting wedding party. Sarah Beth's sister, the jock on basketball scholarship, would be maid of honor. Kelly Cassidy, a young woman we met at Hope Haven who was disfigured with scars from horrible burns in a trailer fire, would be the bridesmaid. The bride would have one leg. The groom has a history of looking like the maid of honor. The best man was gay. I don’t know who the other male attendant would be yet, but he would have to be flexible to fit in with this crowd.

Two days later, Rick drove over to my place after bicycle racing practice. We were checking out a new CD he'd picked up. "Mark," he started. "I know you said that you wouldn't tell anybody about me being gay until I'm ready to tell folks. I really appreciate that, because it really scares me to think of what might happen."

"No problem, bud," I answered. I realized how tough it was for him to tell me, and the courage it took. I had felt uncomfortable knowing that I had a secret life of my own that I hadn't been able to tell him about. It would feel good to be able to tell someone else about it. I went to my dresser and pulled a photo out of my sock drawer. It was of Annie, taken the night of her date with Roger Cameron. I handed it to Rick.

"Wow!" he said. "Julie looks great. I've never seen her so dressed up. But her hair looks darker. I thought she was a natural blond."

"She is," I said. "I'm not. Let me tell you about Annie. It's kind of a hostage exchange thing. Since I know your big secret, I'll tell you mine, then we'll both have to trust each other." It would have been neat having a videotape of his facial expressions as I told him the adventures of Annie, especially about the date.

"Wait a minute. You really kissed him?"

"Yep. It was probably the only romantic kiss he was ever going to get from a girl, so I just had to. It wasn't passionate or anything," I explained. "Then three of us girls took him out one evening just for fun, and I gave him a little peck on the cheek."

"Three of us girls, huh?" he said. "You really do get into this Annie thing, don't you? But do you know what really frustrates me?"

"What, Rick?"

"I'm gay, you're not, and you've kissed as many guys as I have. By the way. Will I ever get a chance to meet Annie?"

"Maybe," I smiled. "Annie is Sarah's personal trainer right now. She's usually at the Holding's house late on Wednesday and Friday afternoons. Let me know ahead of time, and you can come by."

 

The Dungeon

During the time at Hope Haven, I discovered what I hope will be my vocation—physical therapy. Working with Kevin, the head of the PT department at the children's hospital, I discovered that I have a gift for helping people doing physical rehab, and that it brought me special joy. Kevin had invited me to enter the academic program if I met all the qualifications, and hinted at scholarship help.

The week after we returned home, we took Sarah Beth to a physical therapy clinic and set up a program. Mrs. Perkins, the chief therapist there, evaluated Sarah and told her, "As you know, you're not feeling very good right now. The chemotherapy course has weakened you, and makes you feel tired all of the time. Physical therapy at the hospital was forcing you to use muscles in a new way to make up for the loss of your limb. Even after the chemo is a distant memory, doing the normal things you have to do each day is going to take much more energy and stamina than it did before. It will be tempting to just give up, and do as little as possible. A lot of people do. But I don't think you are going to let that happen. Basically, you need to go into training, just like an athlete, to build up your general strength and well-being, and to work on those muscle groups that you will need to call upon for special duty. I understand that Mark is willing to help you with that. So what I propose is that you come in here twice a week, Mondays and Saturdays, for specific work with a therapist, and that on Wednesdays and Fridays, you spend at least an hour working out at home, with Mark's help. Will you do that?"

Sarah Beth agreed. Mrs. Perkins helped us make arrangements with a medical rental place to rent an exercise machine that would help her strengthen her hips, leg, abdomen, and upper body. I talked a school coach into lending us an old floor mat. Together with the Holdings, we cleared out a corner of their basement, put the mat down, and made an exercise area for Sarah and me. I moved in an old exercycle so I could work alongside her. The work was hard for her, especially since she hadn't flushed all the chemo poisons out of her system, and it was hard on me to keep pressing her and encouraging her to go on when she felt miserable.

On about the second day, I was telling her, "Come on, Sarah, just fifteen more minutes. Let's sprint, okay?"

She interrupted. "Wait a minute. I need a new personal trainer."

"Come on, now, Sarah. I really want to help. And who else could you get that would know what I do?"

"Annie," she said. "I'd be much more comfortable being miserable with another girl around, than with my fiance. Besides, I'm used to her from back at the hospital."

I paused. She had told me that there would be moments she would want Annie back, but I hadn't really realized it would be on a regular schedule. "Okay," I finally said. "I just talked with Annie and she agreed to come coach you, if that's what you want. But don't think she'll let you lose exercise time when she's getting dressed."

So two days later, I was back in my blue Tigger bib shortalls, my favorite Annie outfit. Some of my Annie clothes had gone to Julie, but I still kept a wardrobe, wig, and makeup at the Holdings. I didn't do much with my makeup this time, just enough foundation to cover my light beard, and, of course, Annie's trademark light blue nail polish that matched the bibs. Tigger earrings and white athletic socks with little blue tufts on the back completed the look. Sarah Beth still grumbled about me torturing her in the dungeon, but she did seem a little more cheerful.

The routine became settled. Some days I wore the bibs, others sweats, and other days shorts and tee tops. A few days after I revealed Annie’s identity to Mark, I went over to the Holdings and changed. This time I went early and did it up right, while Sarah was out shopping with her mother. I put on my bandana skirt and an embroidered blouse with a Peter Pan collar, sandals to reveal my painted toenails, earrings in all 5 holes in my ears, a butterfly pin, red ribbon in my wig to accent the red in the skirt, and carefully added foundation, blush, a soft eye shadow and eye liner, and brighter red lipstick than I normally wore, hoping it would go with the skirt. I knew that the skirt was too long for me to exercycle, but I wanted to look really good, since Sarah Beth had really liked to see me as Annie lately. Sarah Beth and her mom came back, and were both impressed. (Yes, Mrs. Holding and my mom knew that I would still be Annie from time to time, as Sarah or other friends from Hope Haven needed me to be.)

Going down steps isn’t easy for Sarah, but the basement was the only place in their small home that we could fit the exercise equipment. So we went down and into our routines. I slid my skirt up enough so we could do stretching exercises sitting on the floor (and yes, this gave her the opportunity to see that I was Annie clear down to the white panties with red trim). Then I helped her up and onto the "torture machine." I munched on an apple as she worked, so she glared at me. "You’re wearing that skirt just so you can get out of working too, aren’t you Annie?" she asked.

Just then the doorbell rang. Sarah stopped working the machine so she could hear her mother’s voice through the open door. "Oh, hi, Rick. Come on in. I think it’s great that you’re going to be best man at the kids’ wedding, whenever that may be. Mark or Sarah Beth? Well, Sarah Beth is downstairs. You can go on down, if you like."

Sarah and I looked at each other with panic written all over our faces. "Just play it cool," I said. "We’ve fooled lots of people before, okay?" She nodded. Rick came clumping down the stairs.

"Hi, Sarah Beth. Hi, Julie. I didn’t know you were home from Westview this week." We both waved and said hi back. Rick came up closer. "Wait a minute. You’re not Julie, are you? I’m sorry. Have we met?" He reached his hand out toward mine.

"Uh, Rick?" Sarah started. "This is Annie, a dear friend I made at Hope Haven. She’s visiting and helping me to work out. Annie, this is Rick, and he’s going to be best man at our wedding—he’s Mark’s best friend."

"Nice to meet you, Annie," Rick smiled, shaking my hand. Then his expression clouded. "Wait a minute—you look an awful lot like—Mark! That can’t be you in there, can it? What in heaven’s name are you doing dressed up like a girl?"

"Well, Rick, it’s just the way I am. Like Clark Kent and Superman. Sometimes I’m Mark, and sometimes I’m Annie." We glanced over. Sarah Beth was white as a sheet.

Rick said "What a scoop for the school newspaper! Let me get my camera!"

I turned to Sara Beth and said, "He knows! We’ll have to kill him!" and started to reach up to put my hands on his neck.

Then Rick started laughing. Then I started laughing. We were howling.

Sarah Beth looked confused, then furious. "You two set me up, didn’t you? You told Rick about Annie, and you planned this, just to scare me out of my wits!"

"Not just us two, hon, your mom was in on it, too," I laughed.

"Just you wait," she started to threaten. Then her lips spluttered. Then she giggled. Next we were all three laughing like loons. Mrs. Holding came downstairs with some open cold cans of cola on them, and she was chuckling, too. She came back with a photo album, with all my Annie pictures. So then Rick got to visualize what Annie looked like in all the stories I had told him about our 6 weeks at Hope Haven.

It was a little mean, I guess, to trick her like that, but it got Sarah laughing. Sarah used to laugh a lot. Even at her sickest, she would make sly little jokes. It had been a long time since she had a howler like that, though, so I guess she forgave us. I’m still going to watch my back, though.

 

Roberta

Roberta is a little girl waiting for a new heart. We became friends with Roberta and her mom during our weeks at Hope Haven. Sarah Beth and I, as Annie, had promised that we would come see her again. Once every week or two we would call her mom and sometimes get to talk to Roberta, too. It was one of those scary waiting games. Roberta was high on the list to receive a transplant, because she was so seriously ill. Nobody knew for sure whether her tired little heart would last long enough.

We had promised Roberta a bicycle after she got her new heart, since she enjoyed my bicycling antics so much. It became a symbol of hope for her, something to hang in there for. So on a Saturday soon after we got home, garage sale day, Sarah Beth and I rode around in my battered old Jeep, hoping to find a nice girl's bike that somebody outgrew. We didn't. We did find a hulk of a small girl's bike, missing a front wheel and lots of other parts, and a bent frame from being left in a driveway once too often. "This has possibilities," I told Sarah Beth, carrying it to the Jeep door so she could see it. "And it's only a dollar. There are rust spots, but none are deep enough to weaken the metal."

"That old wreck?" my freckled fiance asked. "By the time you restore it, it'll cost as much as a new one."

"Probably so, but it will be more fun. And we can personalize it—make a custom machine for our little Roberta. We can work on it together," I pleaded.

"Well, okay," she grinned. "Maybe that will be a true test of compatibility." Then she frowned, and I could almost see a tear start to form. "But what if Roberta—uh—never needs the bike?"

I touched her arm. "I've thought about that, too. And I'm sure that we can find another little girl, either in the hospital, or really poor, who could use a bike built by love."

"You're on, then," Sarah responded. "The funny thing is that I could hear two people talking just then."

"Two? What do you mean?"

"I heard Mark, a good guy enthused about this big mechanical project, and Annie, who is so thoughtful, and has so much love to give." Now my eyes were moistening. I went to pay my dollar, loaded the bike in the Jeep, and we drove off.

I worked part-time in our town's bicycle shop since I was sixteen, and the owner let me come back, filling in for vacationing help. When I told him of my project, he agreed to supply parts to me at cost. Of course, parts weren't the big thing. Time was. Cleaning, sanding, straightening and welding, replacing bent spokes in the one wheel it had, repainting, took a bunch of hours. As much as possible we worked together on it. It was fun, though, and it gave us something else to focus on, something outside ourselves. We thought about how that had been true at Hope Haven and the hospital. People thought we were so wonderful for helping the other clients there, but we helped us as much as we helped them. It took our minds off ourselves. As we neared the end of August, we were nearly done with the reclamation.

We were outside on a Sunday afternoon, adding a coat of wax to the bike. We heard the phone ring and ran inside. Sarah answered it. It was Mrs. Cameron, Roger’s mother. I heard Sarah say, "That’s wonderful news!" and my first thought was that Roger’s cancer was better. "She’s having the surgery now?" Then I thought it might be Roberta. Sarah Beth confirmed it to me by mouthing "Roberta" and touching her chest.

I jumped into the air and pumped my arm. "Yes!"

Sarah said, "We’ll try to come as soon as we can!….Oh, yes. That’s right. Well, by Thursday she should be able to have visitors, shouldn’t she? We’ll try to get there Thursday, then. I think Annie can come." She looked at me. I nodded. "Yes, she can. As a matter of fact, she’s right here. Yes, she’d love to talk with you."

Mrs. C filled me in. Sadly, a little boy had been declared brain dead after a traffic accident in Kansas. Roberta was the closest matchup for him, and they flew the heart in. I grieved for the parents in Kansas, but was so glad that they had given permission for the organ donation. I had checked that box on my driver’s license a long time ago, and now I was glad that I had.

"How is Roger?" I asked in my Annie voice. "I know that he didn’t want us to come back and see him, but both of us would love to." I could see Sarah nod yes. It would be tough, because we know he had gone downhill, but we both cared tremendously for the lonely 14-year old boy, so blessed by wealth but doomed by the growth in his head that the surgeons hadn’t been able to remove. I put my free hand over my face and my chin quivered as she described his deterioration. "I see," I said finally. "And we’re both so sorry for you and your husband. Is he there? Can I talk to him?" She agreed. I heard an "Uuuh" noise. Like he was trying to say hello. Mrs. Cameron told me that he couldn’t talk clearly anymore, but that he understood what was being said. "Roger? Hi! It’s Annie, remember? Your date?" Another grunt, higher pitched. "Roger, We’ve been thinking about you so much! Praying, too!" A softer grunt. I went on to tell him about how things had been going since we had gotten home, and about rebuilding the bicycle for Roberta. "Roger? I was telling a friend of mine just the other day about the wonderful date we had. I showed him pictures of me in that beautiful blue gown, and you in your tux. He was impressed, let me tell you! I’ll never forget it." I was having trouble talking by this time. "Sarah wants to say hello, so goodbye for now, Roger, but we’ll call you, okay?" Sarah talked with Roger too, and then back to Mrs. Cameron.

After she hung up, Sarah passed on to me the message that we wouldn’t be able to see them when we drove over to see Roberta, because they were going home in two days. There was no more treatment they could give Roger. He probably only had a few months left. We both cried. What a roller coaster! Joy for our young friend Roberta, grief for our friend Roger.

We decided what to take with us when we went, and on a plan to get me out of town looking like Mark and to our destination looking like Annie. Later in the week, we talked with Roberta’s mother, and told her about the bike. "She’ll be delighted!" she said. She reminded us though that we couldn’t bring it with us on this trip, since Roberta would still be in the cardiac care unit, and her immune system would still be suppressed. So we snapped a roll of film of the bike. I dressed up as Annie for some of the shots, devoutly hoping that the neighbors would assume I was Julie, who had come home for a two-week break between sports camps and college. I put a bandana on over my wig to cover my darker hair, and went out in a lavender short and top set. Once we were done with the pictures, I turned back into Mark and Julie put on the lavender set and the bandana. (Yes, I shot film. No, I don’t have a digital camera yet—missing most of my summer paychecks put that on hold.)

Julie made the trip with us—we rode in her old Honda. We still didn’t want the people around Hope Haven or the hospital to see me and Julie together, so we were going to all share a motel room, Julie would go to hang out with some friends, and we would go to visit Hope Haven and Roberta. I left in gray shorts, cross trainers and white socks, and a big gray knit shirt that I had borrowed from my dad (monochromatic splendor). My hair was growing out since its last shave the night we had returned home, still short and bristly. In another week or two I’ll have to trim the sides. (Thank heaven, my eyebrows were starting to return, as well—they looked like charcoal smudges, but that was better for being Mark than delicately arched or shaved clean off.) About 35 miles from Fort Russell, we pulled off into a National Forest recreation area to eat our picnic lunch. We found a totally empty area. After our PB sandwiches (mine with jelly, both girls’ with bananas), we worked on me becoming Annie again. I had left home in my Annie undies, which were covered by my baggy shorts and shirt. Julie put my makeup on for me, since there wasn’t a good mirror for me to do my own. Then I forsook my gray garb for a yellow flowered sundress, slipped off my trainers long enough to replace my athletic socks with ones that had little yellow balls at the top rear, put on my wig, and inserted hoop earrings with Sarah’s help while Julie pinned a yellow ribbon into my curls. At my insistence, Julie and Sarah were also wearing flowered sundresses and ribbons—red for Julie, light green for Sarah. We looked silly, but we looked silly together. We passed around a bottle of light red nail polish—it was time for Annie to try something different.

On the road again, we had an easy trip into the city and to the hospital, getting there before afternoon rush started. Julie dropped us off and went to get our room at the hotel. We took the elevator to the cardiac care unit, and with the nurses’ instruction, donned sterile gowns, masks, and caps. We turned the corner, and through the window saw Roberta, still tiny, laying in bed, attached to enough tubes and monitor wires to make me think of the Borg, but she still looked better. Vickie, Roberta’s mom, had her back turned as we entered the cubicle (roomlet?). "Mommy! It’s Annie and Sarah Beth!" Vickie turned around and we hugged. Then we all leaned over to kiss her cheek through our masks.

Even with all the hookups, Roberta looked better than she had before—it was her color, now pinker with her improved circulation. Under the sheet and gown, we could make out the bulk of the padding over her carved chest. But she still had that Roberta twinkle in her eye, and that Roberta giggle She gasped when she saw the bicycle as it was when we first brought it. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the pictures of the bicycle after we refinished it. "You’re going to give that to me? I’ll love it! And it’s pink, just like the helmet you gave me! Will you come teach me to ride it, Annie?"

I couldn’t even remember where Roberta and Vickie lived, but I said, "Sure, I will. But you have to work hard at getting strong, first. And take all your medicine, okay?" A nurse came in and smiled at us, but told us we would have to leave for an hour so Roberta could rest. Vickie walked us to the elevator and thanked us. "Our pleasure," I said. "See you in an hour." I didn’t want to go down to Physical Therapy, because Kevin was uncomfortable with my gender switching. We did go over to Hope Haven, where Mrs. Berdugo was delighted to see us. Most of the kids that we had known had left by now. We were saddened to hear that Wendy, the girl with Leukemia, had died. She and her mother never related very well to us. They were kind of withdrawn. It must be tough to die without friends. Mrs. Berdugo introduced us to a few kids and parents, and so we stayed around and visited awhile. We went back over and got Roberta giggling as I told her really, really corny jokes, and funny stories about what a silly little girl I was. That got Sarah Beth giggling, and she told some more about silly little Annie!

Julie came by around 6:30 to pick us up for a late supper. We grabbed gyros at a Greek place, and prowled some of the funky stores near the campus. The next morning after breakfast, we made two visits to Roberta, and spent a little more time at Hope Haven. Then we went back to the motel, I changed back into being a guy, making sure that all the makeup and polish was removed. I went back to the hospital, by myself this time, while the girls went their own way, and went in to meet Kevin.

I knocked on his door. He was seated at his desk, clipboard in hand, making notes. "Sir?" I asked. "I’m a senior in high school, and am interested in going into physical therapy. I understand that you’re the person I should talk to."

"Certainly, come in, uh….?"

"Mark, sir, Mark Jansen."

"You look a little familiar," he said. "We haven’t met, have we? Wait! It’s Annie, isn’t it? I hardly recognized you!" We had a good conversation, and he made some recommendations for courses that I should take in my senior year, and contacts I should make in admissions and scholarships. Later, we were on our way back to Fort Russell, two girls and a guy. For the time being, anyway.

© 2000
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