"Remember, girls, what I told you when you first came onboard. If we're all going to get through this, we've got to stick together, help one another, and you've got do what you're told. If you want to ask questions or discuss things, or if think you've got a better idea, leave it till tomorrow. We've got to move fast."

We waved them goodbye as Mrs Rose drove off and then returned to the house where Farah and I went back up to my room. Everything had been left neat and tidy.

‘I hope everything goes okay for Bryony at the doctor’s,’ I said. ‘It’s not going to be easy for her having to pretend to be a boy at school and only being a girl at home and the weekends.’

"It's not a joke," Cakey said, and there was enough alarm in her tone that Wiggy and I ran to the rail to see. I could see Cakey's entire body under the water, but no sign of Ding-Dong. Cakey looked scared. "She's been under a long time. She said she wanted to touch the bottom."

We finished our pud and were clearing the dirty crocks to the kitchen when the ’phone rang. ‘I’ll get it, Auntie,’ I said, putting the pudding bowls on the counter above the dishwasher. I hurried to the ’phone and lifted the handset.

‘Gaby? This is B-Bryony. I’ve t-told Mummy and we’re g-going to see D-Dr MacNeish after tea.’

Donkey put in, "What is the poop deck, anyway? I mean, really?"

In any case... I had a bigger shock waiting for me.

"Do you know why you're my favorite niece? It's because you're the one who's awake. You're the one who sees every situation as though it's new. You can take something ordinary and find what's extraordinary in it, and you can fall into the strangest, most unexpected situations, and act as though you know what's going on."

When I'd told her the basic story, I asked, "Do you believe me?"

"Well, no," she said. "It's impossible."

"Yeah, but," Eden countered, "— and not that I want to talk you out of it or anything — you know that you don't have to do girly stuff to be a girl. You of all people should know that."

"All the girls had odd names... Dutch names. They were odd for Americans, but maybe quite normal for Dutch girls."

Nina nodded. "Did they all have blond hair and wooden shoes?"

I closed my eyes and relaxed. It was the first moment since I'd awoken that no one wanted anything from me. No one asked me any questions, no one wondered why I wasn't "ready," no one was smacking me on the butt. Of course, I wondered how Cassie dared to do such a thing, but thinking about it didn't help me understand.

She paused, aghast at a sudden thought. "You're not a cheerleader, are you?"

"No," I said. "Never have been, never will be."

"Oh, good!" she cried, with obvious and immense relief. "I mean... not that there's anything wrong with cheerleaders!"

I was grabbed from behind, a hand being clapped over my mouth before I could even scream. I struggled to get free but it was no use.

‘Well, Chambers, I see it’s true that you’ve gone all potty. Hey, that’s funny–potty Chambers, or p’raps it should be Chamber potty!’ He gave out a guffaw of mocking laughter. I recognised the voice instantly as belonging to the bullying oaf, Quinn, and I burst into tears. ‘My mate, Kev Ball, ’phoned and told me you were pretending to be a girlie an’ ’ad got him grounded f’ra month, an’ ’e also said you were gonna to meet his stoopid sister at Angela Williamson’s house s’afternoon.’ Suddenly I became very aware that some other person–I presumed a boy–had put a hand up my skirt and his fingers were exploring my body through the thin cotton material of my knickers. Thank goodness I was wearing a sanitary pad––!

"But what if it isn't?" I asked her. "What if it's not going to be alright?"

She took a deep breath and said, "Then we deal with it. Whatever that means."

"No, it wasn't that..." I hesitated. "It was Ms. Gifford..."

I wasn't sure how much I wanted to say. The real reason I was upset was all the media attention... what it might lead to. What it would have to lead to, if it kept up. If the reporters started looking into my life, they'd find out pretty quickly that I used to be a boy.

This is really the story of a vacation I took in the South Seas, or mostly the story of my South-Sea vacation. Susan would say that it's ostensibly about my vacation. Don't worry if you don't know what "ostensibly" means... it will all become clear once I get underway.

I don't know how those little stories strike you, but... as I listened... at first I felt like a fish out of water. My first impulse was to laugh or to mock, but I was the only one. Everyone else in the room took each story as it was: a candid offering. I'm not saying they were all good; they weren't. But they were all sincere, without guile.