I’d forgotten how deep the V-neckline plunged

Pete's Vagina
88. Punter
Erin Halfelven

Joanna laughed. “More or less,” she admitted. “She can’t get away with her tomboy act smuggling those cantaloupes in her jersey now, can she?”

I glared at her, but she winked at me. She’d defused Jordan’s question, which meant we didn’t have to explain to my little sister that I had, in fact, changed from a boy to a girl just six weeks ago. And everyone’s memories, except the four of us who were there, had changed, too. No one remembered boy-me besides Joanna, Jake, Megan and myself.

“Now put on your Aunt Sophie dress and go show it to your adoring fans,” Joanna commanded.

That earned her another glare, but I pulled the flowered sweater dress over my head and arms and felt it settle around my hips. I’d tried it on in the store when Mom picked it out but—not counting cheerleading costumes—this was the first actual dress that belonged to me, and only the second time I’d worn it.

And I’d forgotten how deep the V-neckline plunged.

“Titties!” Jordan cried in delight, while Joanna started a cheer of “Cleavage! Cleavage!” motioning Megan to join in. Which she didn’t, but maybe because she was laughing too hard.

I adjusted things, blushing. “You are going to get a black eye for that kinda shit someday, Joanna!” I warned her.

“Not from our sweet little Petey!” she crowed. “Okay, okay. I’ll back it off a bit,” she relented, seeing me make a fist. “Now go see if Jake wants to give you a hug wearing that.”

I left the room quickly and was halfway down the hall when I realized that the figure blocking my path was Lee. Crouching behind his Hasselblad on its tripod, he aimed the Polaroid one-handed. Three flashes went off, two from the Hassie and a third from the instant camera.

“Damnit!” I shouted. “Lee! I can’t see a thing!”

“I’ve got you,” he said, and I felt his arm go around my waist. He could move quickly if he needed to, even if his left leg didn’t really bend at the knee.

I leaned into him. “I’ll get you for this!” I whispered fiercely. “I know your ticklish spots!”

He laughed, and his mustache-burn on my ear sent shivers down my back. “Your mother put me up to it,” he said.

“She would,” I admitted. I put my arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe, which I didn’t really need to do—he’s only four inches taller than me, but it gave him a better view of the cleavage while he didn’t have a camera ready. “You like the dress?” I asked.

“Mmm,” he agreed. So I stepped on his toe, and we both almost went down. I had disabled the wrong foot. Jake saved the Hasselblad, and Mom reached into the melee and extricated me, laughing.

“You’re beautiful, honey,” she said, “but don’t trip your boyfriend.”

Travis, Dad and Gogo were laughing like lunatics, so I turned away to check that no calves had escaped the paddock and that they hadn’t seen anything they shouldn’t have.

“It is a gorgeous dress,” Travis was saying. Then to Lee, “Can I have prints of some of your photos? I know someone who might be interested in getting to know a girl who can wear clothes well.” He directed the last bit to me, and I responded.

“Huh?”

“He means modeling,” said Molly. “He was just telling us he had dropped out of college to go to work at a billboard.”

“Upfront Advertising Media,” he amplified. “They do own billboards, but also radio, TV, magazines and newspapers. They’re a real conglomerate.”

I said something under my breath. “You quit school!? Weren’t you planning to be a teacher yourself? You trying to be a future bad example?”

He shrugged. “Turns out writing ad copy pays more than trying to teach quadratic equations to eighth graders. A lot more.”

“Travis,” I said before I could stop myself, “You’re an adorable man, but you disappoint me.”

“Aren’t I adorable, too?” said my father.

“Always, Daddy, always.” I stepped closer and did a little movement so the dress swayed around me. “Do you like this?”

“Always, punkin, always,” he said.