As soon as we turned down Oakfield, I knew where my mother was taking me.

     "Oh no, Mom. You're not."

     "That's right. I'm getting someone else to tell me something is wrong with our eyesight."

     "He'll want to examine me."

     "Of course he'll want to. He's your doctor. Who else knows your body better?"

     I slapped a hand on my forehead. "Mom, don't do this. There's nothing wrong with our eyesight. We'll just have to face the truth. I'm a girl."

      She can't bring anyone else in on this. It's bad enough Hugh will have to know. But what can I do? I live with him. It's a good thing we don't share a room.

     She pulled into the little strip mall across from the Brandon Hospital, leaned back, and breathed heavily.

     "Mom, this isn't going to work. He's going to think that you've been hiding my twin sister all my life."

     She waited for a long time, and just when I thought she may not have heard me, she spun her head around. "No. Get out. We're doing this."

     Well, made her think about it, anyway.

     We stepped out of the car and walked into Dr. Philistan's office. Mom walked up to the check-in counter, and I looked around at some of the kids waiting with their parents.

     Good. There's no one I know … wait. Oh … my … God! There's Tabitha Giggleswick, that ten-year-old twit who lives across from my house. I don't want to do anything that will draw attention to myself. If she doesn't look closely at me, she may not suspect who I am.

     I spun around and faced a poster on the wall. On it, a little girl was pictured wearing a skintight body suit. Lines had been drawn from different parts of her body leading to paragraphs telling about possible health problems and how to prevent them. I looked at the one that stretched to an area below the belly button.

     That's my future! Oh no!

     I twirled around, took two steps, crashed my shins into a coffee table, and sprawled across the floor. Sitting up, I looked down to see my skirt lying on my chest. Running my eyes down farther I saw-

     My panties are showing!

     I shot my eyes across the room. A fat kid my age sat looking at a comic book-only he wasn't looking at the comic. He stared straight at me. I threw down my skirt and got up.

     Oh my God. I'm usually the one looking for any chance to see a up a girl's skirt … hoping beyond hope that the ones wearing them won't be careful … and now, I'm the one that must be careful!

     I glanced at Tabitha.

     Oh no! She's staring at me. Falling into the room attracted everyone. I'm such a clod!

     I smiled and darted to the vacant chair on the end of Tabitha's row.

     There are at least six people between us. Maybe that will get her to stop staring.

     My nerves made me shiver and my breathing quickened. I saw a movement out of the corner of my right eye and shot a glance in that direction.

      Tabitha? She's gotten up and is staring at me. Does she suspect …?

     "Excuse me," Tabitha said, walking over to me. "I noticed you came in with Mrs. Prinzul." She stopped and threw her hands out. "God, you look an awful lot like-"

     "My twin brother, Eric?"

      Where did that come from? I never planned to say that.

     "Yes," I continued, "I've lived all these years with our father in Pennsylvania." I coughed. "I used to live here … before you moved in."

     She plopped her hands on her hips. "How do you know when I moved in?"

     "Oh, Eric told me everything about you. He likes you, you know."

      What am I saying? I hate the little brat.

     "No he doesn't. He teases me all the time. I think he hates all us girls."

      There it is. The first time another girl included me in her gender. Oh, will I ever be able to live with this?

     "Tabitha, he only teases the girls he likes. It's just the way he is. You know, he's really a shy boy."

      What a lie. I really do hate girls. They're so sissy. They're so talkative. They're so nosey. They're so … me!

     Tabitha threw one hand to her chin. "Well, I never thought about it before." She paused, seemed to think about it, and whipped her arm down. "So, what's your name?"

     "Erica."

     "Why'd you wait till now to come to Florida? There's only one month of school left. Is school already out for the summer in Pennsylvania? Did something happen to your father that forced you to come and live with your brothers? This is really going to be cool, having a girl living right across the street."

      You see what I mean about talkative and nosey? She asked three questions, never waiting for an answer on any of them.

     "Eric?"

     I looked at my mother waving for me to come.

     Tabitha slapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. "That's funny. Your mother's so used to taking Eric everywhere that she calls you by his name. Boy, that would really be cool to have a twin brother with almost the same name."

     I stood up. "You can't make Tabitha into a male name."

     She giggled again. "How about Tabit?"

     "Sounds too much like the Hobbit." I walked over to my mother.

     She looked down at me. "What did Tabitha say about you wearing a skirt?"

     I told her what I told Tabitha.

     "That'll work," she said, pushing me gently toward the doctor's door. "Come on. I told them it was an emergency. He's seeing us right now."

      Oh God. I can just see Dr. Philistan's face when Mom tells him, 'Dr. Philistan, we have a little problem here. It seems my son went to school today and came back a daughter. Do you have any medication for that? No, Mom, but there is surgery.

     "Oh … my … God." I followed my mother into the doctor's office.

      Surgery?

As soon as I entered the office and a nurse led my mother and me to a little room, that putrid mediciney smell hit my nose. It smells like vaccine shots.

     We went inside and the nurse made me sit on the foot of the medical bed recliner.

     "The doctor will be right with you," the nurse said, and closed the door.

     My mother sat on the plastic chair next to the sink. I stared at the messages posted on the cabinet doors above the sink, and read one.

      Always dispose of feminine napkins properly.

     Under it, in much smaller print, it read:

      A message from Always Clean™

     What in the world is a feminine napkin? A napkin is a napkin. You buy them in the supermarket and wipe your face with them when you eat. Hmmmmm. Maybe they have softer ones for girls.

     I glanced at the wall to my right. A drawing of a ten-year-old female faced me. A large circle was drawn around the pelvis, and the organs blown up to twice their size with each one labeled. Under the circle it read:

      The Female Reproductive Organs

     I twisted my head back toward my mother. "Mom, can we go to another room?"

     She didn't get the chance to answer, because Dr. Philistan entered. He beamed a wide smile, glanced at me, and then stared at my mother.

     "You wanted to see me about Eric?" He glanced at me, back to my mother, and then stared at me again. "Where is he?"

     "He's here," my mother said.

     He looked around the little room and then settled his eyes on my mother again. "You mean in the building? Is he in the bathroom?"

     "Please," I said. "I don't go to the bathroom any more than I have to."

     He smiled at me, patted my head, and looked at my mother again. "That's nice. You said it was an emergency. So, where is he?"

     My mother pointed an open hand toward me palm up. "He's right there."

     Dr. Philistan stared at me, and I watched his smile disappear. Then he jerked his head back toward my mother. "Mrs. Prinzul, do you know how busy I am? I made this time because your sons have been my patients since they were born."

     She drew her hand back to her hip. "And so I've brought my son here today for you to examine."

     The doctor nodded. "So, where is he?" He waited for an answer, but my mother kept pointing at me and looking at the doctor and back to me. He mashed his lips together and folded his arms. "All right, Mrs. Prinzul, what do you want?"

     She kept pointing at me, cocked her head, and looked the doctor in the eyes. "I want you to tell me if he is a girl or a boy."

     The Doctor stared into my mother's face for a long time without doing or saying anything.

      I knew it. He thinks she's crazy.

     He looked at me, and then at my mother again. After doing that several times, he leaned back and his lips exploded. "This isn't funny. Obviously she favors Eric. Perhaps she's a cousin. Why bring her to me?"

     I waved my hands and caught the doctor's attention. "I think I can clear this up. Doctor Philistan, nothing we say will convince you that I am Eric, and that I've been turned into a girl. So, let me try this."

     I leaned back and raise my skirt almost to my groin, and at the same time I moved my right knee up and to the right.

     The doctor stared at my exposed right thigh. Then he pointed at it. "That's the same scar Eric has from his bicycle accident. It's in the same place and exactly the same size."

     I lowered my leg and skirt and smiled at him as the Doctor leaned back and folded his arms. Then he shook his head. "You don't need me, Mrs. Prinzul. If your son has taken a fancy to wearing female clothing, you need a psychiatrist."

     I jumped off the recliner bed and faced him. "I'm not just wearing girls' clothes. I've been turned into a real girl." I pointed to my mother. "She's seen me, and she still won't believe it. She wants you to examine me so you can tell her I still have my boy parts … but I don't. I have all girl parts and you've got to do something about it."

     He shook his head, stepped back, and threw his arms up. "This is crazy. I don't want any part of this." He shoved his hands down and stared at my mother. "I suggest you take Eric's cousin back home and forget about the whole thing."

     I stamped one foot. "But what about the scar?"

     He looked at me. "It's a coincidence. You just happen to have the same kind of scar in the same place. All kids have bicycle accidents."

     "Oh, yeah," I said, jumping backwards and sitting up on the recliner bed. "Then what about this?" I pulled off my left slip-on shoe, pink sock, and thrust the bottom of my foot toward the doctor. "What about that? Have you ever seen that before? What are the chances that any two people can have the same big, black birthmark on the bottom of their left foot? What're the chances?"

      Oh … my … God! I am a girl. I just asked five questions without waiting for an answer to any of them.

     The doctor waved a hand in front of his chest and shook his head as he backed away. "No. No. I don't want any part of this." He reached for the door, opened it, and looked back into the room. "I've finished with you today. Go out front and make a proper appointment."

     He shut the door and my mother and I stared at each other. Then the door flew open again. We jerked our heads around and watched panic grow on the doctor's face. "And make that appointment for six months from now." He slammed the door.

     "You see, Mom. No one is going to believe us. And you will just have to accept me as a girl."

     She shrugged and flew her hands up near her head. Her falling tears nearly broke my heart.

      My God. She's really shaken over this. Even though I'm now what she wanted originally … a girl … she still wants me back as a boy. I feel so sorry for her … more than for myself.

     She plopped back into the plastic chair, buried her face in her hands, and cried.

      Now, what do we do?