For the rest of the ride home I made sureto stare straight ahead and ignore everyone else.When I got home, I sluffed off my clothes and put on a comfortable sweatshirt and sweat pants. Good old Stephanie ' of course it was a pinkvelvet-like material. She didn't own any other color, apparently. Iwandered over to the refrigerator, grabbed a pint of Chocolate Chunk icecream, and dug in. I tried calling Amy, but no joy.I spent the rest of that second day pretty much watching trash TV 'Ellen, Oprah, and a brief stint with Judge Judy. Again, I couldn't helpit. I tried desperately to get into ESPN, to get some thread of my oldlife back that I lost just two days ago, but no matter what I did Icouldn't get interested in all the meaningless banter about this playeror this team. I finally succumbed and fell back on talk TV, and,speaking honestly, I found it a hell of a lot more interesting anyway.At any rate, the ice cream and the TV allowed me ignore my plight, andat about 7pm my phone. ." I sighed. "Well, I guess there's nothing I can do." Istarted walking toward the door of the room, better to face the othersnow than later and get the weird shit over with."Wait!" Kayla said. "If you walk out there with those disgusting boyclothes, the others will freak! You need to put on something morefitting! I'll be right back!" Kayla zipped out the room and closed thedoor behind her. Oh fuck. Did I really have to wear girl's clothes? Iagain looked at my body in disbelief. It was so much smaller, my skinwas so smooth, no hair anywhere...It felt so strange having such longhair.Suddenly Kayla burst into the room with a rather large suitcase. "Who'ssuitcase is that?" I asked. She looked at me. "It's yours." "What?" Isaid. "No it's not!" Kayla sighed. "Remember, Michelle, the others thinkyou've always been a girl. So your other stuff reflects that. I don'tknow about those clothes you're wearing though. I guess it's sort oflike how I know who you really are because I was right here,.
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