Christine IX: Adam

My dad hadn’t taken me fishing much over the summer, mainly because he was working so hard getting the house ready and dealing with a growing business. The business was growing well, but money was still pretty tight. But now that we were in our new home and settling down, the pressure was off a little bit and he undertook to make up for lost time. Every Saturday or Sunday, I was invited to go fishing. Sometimes Josh went, sometimes not. Gail had little interest in fishing so she almost never went. Amanda went once or twice. At Mom’s prompting I always wore jeans or shorts, white athletic socks and sneakers. But I somehow always managed to wear something that left no question I was a girl. It was either a very feminine top, or some sort of embroidery or trim on my pants, or both. My hair was usually in pigtails which were always tied off with some sort of ribbon. But we still enjoyed ourselves, and as an added bonus I got to teach Josh many of the things my dad had taught me about fishing. Dad and I still had the one large disagreement about my gender and what to do about it, but we were both trying to be friends anyway and we were succeeding.

I joined the clogging club that Josh belonged to, and we became dance partners. It was more fun that I could ever have imagined. The girls all wore cotton dresses with very full skirts and two layers of petticoat underneath that swung outward when we twirled and swung, which we did often. The sensation was positively wonderful, and so girlish! We also joined a social dancing club. We had neither the time nor the money for ballet and I felt bad about that, but we had to pick and choose. There was one more thing about ballet that made me hate my genitals even more. It is not uncommon during a routine for the male to hold his partner above his head with his hand squarely in her crotch. Not only did that have the potential of being embarrassing, it could prove to be downright painful when the girl being held up had what I had there. So ballet had to go on hold at least for now. No matter though, I was having the time of my life.

My mom and I made a major mistake in judgement shortly after Johnny had left. With all that had been going on since we returned home, we hadn’t been to church at all. But she had always loved taking her sons to church and I had always enjoyed going; so in late September, we both got dressed in our best and headed off to church. Unfortunately we chose to go to the same church we’d always attended. We were met at the door and told in no uncertain terms that Mom should know better than to encourage her son’s bizarre behavior, and that she could not bring me into that holy place as long as I was dressed in such a way as to blaspheme God’s glorious creation, meaning of course my boy’s body. I wanted to tell them off for talking to my mother that way, but Mom said no, that God would deal with them. So she just thanked them politely for sharing their views and we left. Dad was furious when we told him, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. Weren’t they saying much the same thing that he’d been saying, only in different words? Nevertheless our formal church career was over for the time being.

The following Thursday evening, Reverend Hatcher dropped by. He expressed regret that the situation had been handled rather badly, but he wasn’t about to change his position. “To be honest,” Mom said, “I was a little surprised that the church, and you, Pastor, have taken the position that you have.”
“Mrs. Elliot,” the preacher began, then paused and asked if Mom would ask me to leave the room. “No, I can’t,” Mom said. “This is about Christine and this is her home, so if you have something to say you don’t want her to hear, then I don’t want to hear it either.”
“Very well,” the preacher said with a sigh. “The fact is, Susan, we were all pretty shocked that you would allow your son to carry on this way.”
“And what way is that, Pastor?”
“Oh, come on!” he said. “You allow a young boy to impersonate a girl, even to the point of living like one and taking a girls name. Really!”
“Christine believes that whatever impersonation was done, was when she was impersonating a boy. You didn’t seem to have a problem with that.”

The preacher gave my mom a look that would wilt many lesser women, but not my mom. “Susan, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. I can’t believe you would allow a child to take you in like that.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Mom said. I could sense the sarcasm in her voice. “I just wish we’d consulted with you four months ago. Here we’ve spent all that money, that we could ill afford, not to mention the time and family arguments, therapy, consultations, examinations, and you just snap your finger and come up with the answer. So all those doctors and therapists were wrong all the time!”
“Susan, you don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“Then how do you suggest I handle a total bigoted idiot like yourself, Reverend? If I don’t use a little sarcasm, I’m liable to get downright nasty. I think this conversation is over. I don’t choose to allow you and your church to upset my daughter any more than you’ve already done.”

I was so proud of my mom! But at the same time I was disappointed that our church life seemed to be over. I had loved the church, loved singing in the junior choir, had even sung the odd solo. And now, it seemed, I had committed some horrible sin that disqualified me as a Christian. I asked my mom about it, but she had no answers. Even my dad agreed with me, saying that he’d hoped that we could all get some guidance from the church about how to deal with the whole situation. Now, it seemed, that option was not available.

The following Sunday, we went to a different church. It seemed strange to me, but the people were friendly enough and Mom and Dad were both hopeful that we could make this our new church home. We had attended there about three weeks when two of the deacons came calling one evening. One of them made some complimentary comment as he came in the house to the effect that it was nice to see a little girl dressed as a little girl should be - in a dress or skirt. His attitude changed drastically when Mom told him about my “special” situation. “Why’d you have to tell him?” I said after they’d left, with me in tears.
“I had to, dear,” Mom said. “They would probably find out anyway, and I didn’t want them thinking that we were trying to mislead them.”

The third church was much the same. This time it was the minister who came around, and he didn’t have to say a word; I could see it in his face as Mom unfolded the events of the summer. The fourth church was more tolerant, but Mom said there wasn’t much there for kids to do so we didn’t join that one either. By this time Dad was getting fed up. We tried once more, only to be rejected again. “I think I’m beginning to understand,” he said to the minister. “Here I’ve gone my whole life thinking the church was a place for sinners to meet to improve lives and help each other. I had it backwards. You gotta be perfect to belong to a church. Well, I’ll never make it. So I guess it’s just between our family and God!

Not to be deterred, Mom determined to “church” me at home. Before long we had our own unique version of Sunday School. Mom was the teacher, or more accurately the moderator; the “fabulous four:” Amanda, Josh, Gail and I, were the students. We had a really great time every Sunday. That church episode had unwittingly brought us all together on yet another plane. Even Dad and Amanda’s parents eventually joined in.

As the weather got colder, Mom decided that it was time for me to start wearing tights. “You’re gonna hate them,” she told me. “I wish there was some other way, but if you insist on wearing dresses and skirts all the time, we’ve got to cover your legs somehow.”
“But I’m not cold, Mom,” I replied. It was true! I would go out on frosty mornings with my legs bare, nothing on under my skirt but my underwear, and I didn’t seem to feel the cold at all. Sometimes I wore knee socks, but usually only ankle socks.
“I don’t want you catching cold,” she said firmly as she handed me a new pair of tights. These were heavier than any I’d worn before, and as I slipped into them it kept going through my mind that they were almost like the long underwear that I’d worn when I was a little boy, except that the tights were so much more comfortable. And an added bonus: they had feet built right in so I didn’t have to wear socks and worry all the time about them being tucked in properly.

“I like them,” I announced when they were on and in place. “I wish they weren’t so heavy, though. I think I’m gonna be too hot.”
“You like them?” Mom said with surprise. “I thought you’d hate them. Most girls won’t wear them no matter what.”
“I like ‘em,” I repeated. “But could you get me some lighter ones? These are too heavy.”

Once again we compromised. Mom agreed to let me wear lighter tights, which I absolutely loved, except on the really cold or stormy days, provided that I wear the heavier ones when they were needed, and I was to accept Mom’s judgment which I wore without argument. I had no problem with that at all. Most of the girls went bare legged all winter, but most of the girls also lost more time due to colds and flu than I did. But the thing I noticed above all others was that no one made fun of me, even though I was almost the only girl in school with my legs always covered. Instead they almost admired me because I could wear “those awful tights” all the time without complaint. Awful tights? I loved them!

As I mentioned before, school went much more smoothly after the major incident on the first day than I ever would have expected. I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I didn’t need them; I had Josh and Gail at school, and Amanda was usually around on the weekends. There were a handful of girls at school I took classes with, and we became pretty good friends. None of the boys seemed to have any time for me, but that neither surprised me nor bothered me. There was one boy though, Adam, who was in my class. I developed a feeling that Adam was always looking at me: in class, in the cafeteria during lunch, and even in the hallways. It wasn’t a leering, making fun look as I’d expected, nor was it the type of look girls wanted from boys. I couldn’t really put my finger on it; it was just... well, he seemed to be watching every move I made. Finally one day he got his chance, and Adam wasted no time making his move. Josh was away on a field trip, and Gail had a dentist appointment, so I was eating lunch alone. As I unpacked my lunch and opened my container of milk, Adam stopped and asked if he could sit with me. “Sure,” I said. All the trouble of a few months ago was all but forgotten, and I knew he wouldn’t try anything in the cafeteria anyway.

We sat and began eating with very little conversation. Adam was obviously nervous. He talked about Gail and how pretty she was, about how the three of us must be very good friends because we were always together. We talked about math class and the problem he’d been having with multiplication. “I’d be glad to help you after school if you like,” I offered.
“Really?” he said as he brightened. “Could... could you do it today? You could come over to my house. My mom will be there, but she won’t bother us.”
“I guess so,” I answered. “I’ll have to call my mom to tell her where I am.”

Adam seemed to get even more nervous then. We finished our lunch and went back to class, and when the final bell rang Adam was at my heels like a little dog. I was beginning to think he... Well, that he “liked” me. Boy, was I wrong!

It took us about a half hour to walk to Adam’s house, then his mother insisted that we stop for milk and cookies, which I appreciated. I called Mom and she said she’d pick me up when we were through, and then Adam led me upstairs to his bedroom.

I was totally unprepared for what I found in Adam’s room. It was more or less typical of most little boy’s bedrooms, except that it was spotless, neat as a pin. The bed was made, there were no clothes on the floor, his study desk was totally neat and tidy with pencils, pens, rulers, all in their place and ready for Adam. “You’re lucky,” I commented. “Does your mom always keep your room like this for you?”
“She doesn’t,” he answered. “I always clean it up before I go to school. I hate messes.”

I guess I should have taken the clue then, but after all I was still only 8 ½. What did I know? So we got down to business with multiplication, and in no time I had Adam multiplying with the best of them. “You should be a teacher when you grow up,” Adam said happily. “You’re better than Miss Anthony.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You really weren’t as confused as you thought you were.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said as he toyed with a pencil. “Christine, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I answered.
“What’s it like? I mean, bein’ a girl?”
“I dunno, like bein’ a boy I guess. I don’t much think about it, it’s just what I am.”
“But you used to be a boy, right?”
“Not exactly. I thought I was, but...”
“So what’s it like? I mean, first bein’ a boy and then bein’ a girl? Is there a big difference?”

I looked at Adam closely. I guess I had never really looked at him before, at least in the scrutinizing way I did now. To an eight year old, unless someone is a close friend or relative, they are just “other people.” At least that’s the way it was with me. Oh yes, I checked out other girls, but only in the sense of what they were wearing, how they looked, and were they staring at me. But when I took a very close look at this boy, I was somewhat surprised at what I saw. It was like looking in a mirror.

Adam was a small boy, slightly shorter than I was. He had rather dark skin and coal black hair and deep brown eyes, not unlike Josh’s: penetrating and serious. He wore his hair rather long, not quite down to his shoulders but absolutely straight, and shining. He had obviously kept it clean and brushed. His clothes were pretty typical for an eight year old boy: blue jeans and a light blue T-shirt with a Nike logo on the back. His clothes were like the rest of his life: clean and neat. Could it be that I had found someone like myself? I looked at his hands. I had seen nothing but for the past hour and a half, but now I found myself really seeing them for the first time. His fingers were so incredibly long they looked almost unnatural. His nails were on the long side for a boy, and absolutely perfect.

“I... I dunno, Adam,” I answered. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I mean, I’ve learned from my doctor and some reading he gave me to do, that lots of boys have problems with the fact that they are boys. Some of ‘em discover that they are gay, others just like to dress in girls’ clothes, and others want to become girls! But I...”
“You just WERE a girl, right?” he offered.
“Uh-huh. I mean, the first time I wore a dress out in public, it just felt so... so... kinda like I was comfortable for the first time.”
“Didn’t you get teased a lot an’ stuff like that?”
“Oh, yeah! I mean, big time! And you know about all that stuff that went on at school.”
“Didn’t it bother ya?”
“Course it did! It still does. And I can’t shower with the other girls ‘cause I still got my boy parts, an’ my dad isn’t very happy with me being a girl all the time... sometimes it gets kinda tough.”
“So why do ya do it? I mean, why don’t ya just dress like a boy and BE a boy?”
“Cause I’m NOT a boy, Adam!”
“But, how do ya KNOW?” I mean, you look like a boy underneath your dress, right?”
“I dunno how I know, Adam. I just do. But why are you asking all these questions?”

To my utter astonishment, Adam started to cry. “Cause... cause every time I look at you, an’ I realize that you used to be a boy, I think to myself how lucky you are. I have always wondered what it would be like to be a girl. An’ you’re always so pretty.”
“Have you told your mom and dad?” I asked. To me it was a pretty normal question. Wasn’t that what mom’s and dad’s are for?
“Are you crazy?” Adam said with so much venom it frightened me. “My dad left us when I was a baby, an’ I know my mom would kill me.”
“Your dad left? But why?” I questioned stupidly. I still hadn’t been exposed to the fact that many kids only have one parent.
“I dunno, he just left.”

I was getting pretty uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going, but fortunately Adam’s mom bailed me out. “How’s about you two take a break for dinner?” she asked as she came to the door. “Christine, would you like to stay? We have lots, and I can talk to your mother if you like.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” I answered. “I think maybe I should go home.”
“Please stay?” Adam pleaded. I don’t know why, but I felt drawn to stay. To be honest, I think my curiosity had got the better of me. Where would our conversation go if he had the chance to take it further?

We had a very nice meal, especially considering that Adam’s mom had worked all day. Adam had told me that he had told his mom who I was, that is that I was THAT girl. She never let on to me though. She was friendly and nice, her only comment being that I had one barn burner of an appetite for such a petite and pretty girl. By the time the meal was over and Adam and I helped clean up, it was 7:30, the time my mom was coming to get me.

Mom and Mrs. Williams hit it off right away. While they were talking, Adam asked me if I wanted to come over on Saturday. “We could play around here,” he offered. “I’ve got a new video game I bet you’d love, an’ then maybe in the afternoon we could go to a movie.”
“I dunno,” I said, “I usually check with my cousin before I go anywhere by myself.” Mom heard me and interrupted. “Gail’s going shopping with her mother on Saturday,” she informed me. “I think it would be lovely if you spent the day with Adam, that is if his mother doesn’t mind.”
“We’d both love it,” Mrs. Williams said enthusiastically. “I keep trying to get Adam to make more friends, but this is the first time he’s made any kind of overture on his own.”
“I know what you mean,” Mom said. “Christine is the same. She has her small circle of friends and she makes no effort to expand it. So I’ll bring her over about nine, if that’s ok?”

So I had been railroaded, like it or not. I really didn’t mind, but at the same time it would have been much more comfortable to just spend the day with Josh. Amanda would probably be with her own friends - they had suddenly discovered the mall and spent every waking moment there, doing who the heck knows what.

“That’s great!” Josh said when I phoned him and told him the news. “Some guys wanted me to play in a basketball tournament Saturday, but I didn’t want to leave you home alone. Now you’ll have something to do.” Well, certainly no help there. I knew Josh liked sports and he knew I didn’t. I also knew that he had passed up many chances to play basketball or soccer or baseball to spend time with me. I really had no right to complain, but still I felt sort of rejected. “Cool,” I said, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” and we hung up. Mom was yelling at me that it was bed time, and I guess there really wasn’t much more to say anyway.

The next day was Thursday. As I headed for the cafeteria, Adam suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Mind if I eat with you?” he said cheerily.
“Ok by me,” I answered. “Gail and Josh will be there though.”
“Great! I’ll get to meet them, if it’s ok.”

Well, it was more than ok. Josh and Adam seemed to hit it off right away, and all four of us were soon engaged in conversation. Adam was a nice kid, and I was glad we all got along well. But as the bell rang to signal the end of our lunchroom period, Gail pulled me into the girls’ bathroom. “He’s really cute,” she said enthusiastically as soon as we were inside.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said as I went into a stall and did my business.
“You’re not gonna try and tell me you didn’t notice,” she accused from the other side of the door. “How’d you meet him anyway?”
“He’s just a kid in my class,” I defended. “He asked me to help him with his math yesterday, and we got to be friends. I like him, do you?”
“Oh yeah!” she exclaimed as the bell rang.
“You better get to class,” I said as I finished up. “See ya after school.”

I did see Gail after school, but I didn’t talk to her. Adam latched on my arm before we were even out of the building. As we walked outside I saw Gail and Josh, probably waiting for me. They waved and yelled “See ya later,” and they walked off. That confused me... they had evidently thought that Adam and I had something going, but I hadn’t figured that out yet. “Maybe you could help me study for the math test we’re having tomorrow,” Adam suggested. “I’m still not sure I’m gonna pass it.” Still confused over Gail and Josh’s hasty retreat, I shrugged and said OK. Truth be known, I really got a rush out of helping Adam. He seemed to be able to learn from me quickly, but Miss Anthony couldn’t seem to get anything into his head.

“It’s real easy,” I lectured when we were in Adam’s room. “Multiplication is just like adding, only ya do it more than once. So if you can add, you can multiply.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Adam answered, “I really can’t add all that well.”
“I can’t help you there, Adam,” I said. “You gotta learn your addition facts from 0 to 10, and from there you can figure everything else out.”
“How do ya do that?” he asked, totally confused.
“It’s easy,” I said. “My dad taught me to add the way computers do it. They don’t have all those tables and facts, they just do repeated addition of one’s and zero’s.”

I took Adam’s pencil and showed him how 10 plus 10 is 20, 100 plus 100 is 200, and so on. “So you break up a number into hundreds and tens and units,” I explained, “then you add the parts together and then put it all together.”
“Sounds complicated,” he whined. “I think it’s faster to just do it on paper.”
“Bet I can beat ya adding a two three digit numbers,” I challenged. “Write two numbers on the paper and we’ll both add them, and we’ll see who finishes first.”

Adam took the pencil and wrote the number 361. Then under it he started to write the second number. “Not there,” I ordered, “on the other side of the paper.”
“I can’t add them when they’re not even together,” he complained. “No one can do that.”
“Ok,” I conceded. “Write the other number on the other side of the paper. I’ll do that one, and you write the same two numbers one on top of the other.” So Adam wrote the second number: 556. While he was copying the two numbers on another sheet of paper, I wrote the answer on the first sheet: 917.

“How’d you do that?” he demanded.
“Just like I told you. I added 300 and 500, and got 800. Then I added 60 and 50 and got 110. I took 100 from 110 and added it to 800. Then I added the 1 and the 6 and got 7. Answer: nine hundred, plus one ten, plus 7 one’s. 917.”
“WOW!” he exclaimed. “Does it always work?”
“Uh-huh. But when the numbers get bigger sometimes ya have to scratch down little notes, but it always works. But if you don’t know that 5 plus 7 equals 12, you’re kinda in a jam. You can use your fingers like Miss Anthony taught us, but my dad made me memorize those tables. Now it’s a lot faster, and I can still do math with mittens on!”

We did a few addition problems, then I explained how multiplication is just adding the same number to itself more than once. I could see the lights come on in his eyes. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “that’s easy! Mom! Come see what I can do!”

“You’re a really good teacher, Christine,” Mrs. Williams gushed. “I’ve never seen Adam so happy about a math test. He says he’s going to make an ‘A’!”
“I hope so, Ma’am,” I said shyly. “I didn’t do anything though, only taught him to do it the way my dad taught me.”
“I wish my dad was here,” Adam said reflectively.
“I do too, honey,” his mom said. “I guess he had more important things to attend to.”
“I hate him!” Adam said vehemently.
“You don’t hate him, Adam,” she scolded. “You don’t even know him.”
“Yeah, I know. He didn’t even stay around long enough for me to get to know him. That’s how I know I hate him.”
“We’ll talk tonight, son,” she said. “Right now dinner’s ready, and then I’ll take you home, Christine.”
“That’s ok thanks,” I said, “but my mom said she’d come get me at 7.”

“You and Adam seem to really be hitting it off,” Mom said as we drove home.
“He’s nice,” I agreed. “I feel sorry for him though. I kept telling him how my dad taught me this and showed me that, and it made him real sad. I guess I never realized how much you and Dad do for me, Mom.”
“We both love you very much, Angel.”
“Even Dad? Even though I’m not Christopher any more?”
“He still loves you, honey. You’ll see, some day all this will be forgotten and never brought up again.”
“I don’t think so, Mom. I know Daddy loves me, but I’m always gonna be the girl that used to be a boy. Even Adam... well, he asks questions about what it’s like.”
“Does that bother you, dear?”
“Course it does, Mom! I hate bein’ a freak! But I guess that’s the way life’s gonna be for me.”

First thing Friday morning we had our math test. “Don’t worry if you don’t finish,” Miss Anthony said. “I have given you a test that you’re not supposed to finish. I want so see exactly how far everyone has progressed. Just do the best you can, and I’ll grade the tests while you’re all in gym class.” She handed out the papers, and we all set to work.

“How’d you do?” I asked Adam when we’d been dismissed for lunch. I really didn’t have to ask, I could tell by the way he was beaming that he’d done well.
“I got an ‘A’,” he said. “It was so cool! Miss Anthony thought I musta cheated because I never got an ‘A’ in math before, and there wasn’t any of the usual scribbles and notes where I had worked on the problem.”
“She thought you were cheating? So what’d you say?”
“I told her that you showed me how to do it last night. She just said ok, that explains it, an’ she gave me an ‘A.’ I guess she knows how smart you are, Christine.”
“I’m not that smart,” I defended. “I just have this great dad...” and then I remembered that I wasn’t going to say things like that any more. But even that reminder couldn’t discourage Adam’s good nature just then.

When we sat at our usual table for lunch, Josh wasn’t there. “He’s sitting with some of his friends,” Gail answered when I asked.
“Why?” I asked.
“I dunno. I think maybe he’s kinda feeling a little left out. I mean, you’ve been spending so much time with Adam lately...”
“That’s crazy!” I exclaimed. “Can’t I have two friends?”
“Christine,” Gail said, “I think it’s time you realized that Josh wants to be more than just a friend. He thinks you’re gettin’ pretty thick with Adam, and Adam is your own age, and...” she whispered in my ear “Josh thinks Adam’s cute too.”

To this day I don’t know what it was with me. It seems the whole world, including our parents, knew that Josh and I were sweethearts; but I didn’t know. Sure, I loved Josh and he loved me, but I loved my mom and dad too; and Gail; and Johnny. To my eight year old mind that was all there was to it. Even so, I had to set things straight with Josh. Adam was babbling excitedly to Gail about the math test and how he’d totally murdered it, so I bolted down my lunch and excused myself. I walked over to the table where Josh was sitting.

“Don’t look now,” I heard one of the kids say to Josh, “your little transsexual friend is coming over.”
“Her name is Christine!” Josh said forcefully. I had intended to ignore the remark, but Josh had made it very clear that he wasn’t going to stand for any of that talk, either to my face or behind my back.

“I heard what you said,” I said to Josh when we were outside and alone. “Thanks.”
“It’s ok,” he answered. “Nobody’s gonna say things about you like that while I’m around. What did you want, Christine?”
“I... I dunno, Josh, I just thought... well... I thought we oughta talk about Adam.”
“He seems like a nice kid. I guess you like him a lot, huh?” Josh said. He had said the right words, but the tone of his voice left no doubt that he’d had some difficulty saying them.
“Josh, he’s a good friend. He needed some extra help in math and I gave it to him. We got to be pretty good friends. Josh, my parents and yours too are always telling me I should make more friends.”

Josh looked at me with a very strange look on his face. He looked to me as if he was about to cry. What in the world! “I... I talked to my dad about you last night,” he said after a long pause.
“Your dad?” I responded. “What about me?”
“Christine, it’s ok. Dad explained to me that you’re almost three years younger than I am, and that I can’t expect you to... well, to... uhhh... to stay with me. Three years is a long time when you’re only eight. He said if you’ve found someone your own age I should be happy for you. He told me I should try to find someone my age too.”
“Find someone?” I asked, confused. “Find someone for what? Doesn’t your dad want us to be friends just ‘cause you’re older?”
“Of course we can be friends, Christine. But I thought... I mean, I kinda wanted... well, I thought we were... I wanted... I been tellin’ people you were my girlfriend.”

Well, once again I have to borrow an expression from our friends in the UK. There is simply not a word in the American dictionary to adequately describe how I felt just then. I was totally GOB-SMACKED! “You’ve been telling everyone what?” I stammered.
“I’m sorry, Christine. I thought you knew. I thought you felt the same way too.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. I know you’re kinda young, but I thought...”
“Me?”
“Christine, you know I love you.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Christine. I just thought...”
“But I’m only eight! An I’m... I’m... well, you know, I’m really... well...”
“You’re really great! I don’t care what you think you are really. And what if you are only eight? When you’re 20 I’ll only be 23. But my Dad says I shouldn’t try to hold you, if you’d rather...”

There it was again! That same electric feeling I’d got the first time Gail’s sun dress slid down over my body. That feeling of... of “this is so RIGHT!” It was almost a feeling of... of destiny. “I want to be your girlfriend,” I blurted out. “I want to tell people you’re my boyfriend! But... I mean... what about when we get older? I still don’t know if my dad will ever let me get that operation. I might always be...”
“Don’t matter,” Josh said. “I’ll deal with it.”
“But Josh,” I said after some hesitation, “I’m not even sure what being your girlfriend means. I mean, what do we do different?”
“I dunno, Christine. I guess it means we hang out together an’ go to dances together and stuff like that.”
“But we do those things now. So I don’t understand...”
“There’s something else,” he said nervously. His face turned a bright crimson. He was so cute! But some deep instinct told me this was not the time to giggle. “Sometimes,” Josh mumbled so low I had trouble understanding him, “I mean, I don’t mean all the time, but sometimes boys... uhh... boys hug their girlfriends, and... uh... sometimes they... er... sometimes they kiss.”

The feeling again! Only this time it was mixed with sort of a shocked panic. “You wanna kiss me?”
“If you wanna.”
“Now?”
“NO!” he said as he dropped my hand as if it were suddenly red hot. “Maybe tonight...”
“But I thought... you know, that there’s a tournament tomorrow, I thought you’d be practicing tonight.”
“I was going to, but this is more important. There’s a dance at the middle school tonight, and since I’m supposed to be there, they said I could go to the dances and stuff. I was hopin’ we could go. And maybe...”
“Ok,” I said eagerly. “But what about Adam? I mean, I don’t think he’s got many friends, and he was hoping I could help him more with school work.”
“That’s ok,” Josh said nobly. “But you gotta tell him you got a boyfriend, and you gotta tell him you’re goin’ out with me tonight.”

WOW! Small price to pay, or what! All the girls at school thought Josh Reynolds was “dreamy,” and he was my boyfriend! MINE! And all I had to do was hang out with him, and dance with him, and... and sometimes KISS him! And tell Adam that I was “taken.” I certainly hadn’t found anything yet I couldn’t deal with. So I walked back... well, actually I FLOATED back to class. Eight years old (well, almost 9), still not fully a girl, and I had a BOY FRIEND! And my boy friend was one of the coolest boys in the sixth grade.

To Be Continued...