Mark Lansing never wanted to stand out. He was perfectly happy disappearing into a football huddle with the rest of the team until one play made him the talk of the town. Thrust into a spotlight he never wanted, every choice can reshape his future, and every decision could transform him in ways he never believed possible. Mark’s destiny will be determined on the field … assuming he can figure out how to dress the part.

Chapter 20

“Are you coming downstairs?”

Mark yawned. His Mom was the most reliable alarm clock in the house and it was a good thing because he’d slept like a baby. At least ten hours and his body needed every minute of it.

He didn’t flinch when he caught his reflection in the mirror. The changes were there, his cheekbones more prominent, and his lips more pouty. He tried to mimic Jeffrey’s confident grin, but the expression looked wrong on his face. Mark pulled his hair into a tight man-bun, a desperate attempt to retain a part of his masculinity. The change in his hips was subtle, and the weight on his chest an undeniable presence, but one he didn't notice as much as he expected.

Mark took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. He pulled open his boxer-briefs and felt the hollowness inside. He had to sit to pee. There was nothing left. No trace. Mark wanted to scream but sat there in silence, trying to process the finality of what he’d seen.

“Is everything okay in there?” His Mom called from the top of the stairs.

Mark waited as his heart continued to pound. “Yeah, Mom.” He tried to clear his voice, but it came out as a high-pitched wail.

His Mom didn’t seem to notice. “You’re going to be late if you don’t leave soon.”

“I know.” Mark said, stifling back a cry.

The tears stopped almost as soon as they began, interrupted by a sudden stream of urine that left behind a lingering dampness. Mark stared at the area between his legs as a strange sensation washed over him. He started to laugh, softly at first, then building into something more, like a final puzzle piece being slid into place.

He’d peed like a girl.

“Oh shit.”

Mark froze, staring down at his toes as the chill marched through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating every ounce of his will on a single thought: 'Not my chest ... not my chest ... not my chest.'

The cold surged down his legs, past his ankles, before pooling around his feet. When he opened his eyes his shoe size appeared unchanged but his calloused heel had disappeared, replaced by a narrower foot and lifted arches Mark could only describe as cute.

He stood for a moment, testing his balance, before jumping in the shower. Too much had happened, way too much to process, and he didn’t have time to waste. Mark washed himself as fast as he could then dried off before dressing in a hurry. He practically sprinted down the stairs, nearly tripping when loose sneakers lost traction.

“Don’t you want breakfast?”

“No time.” He didn't dare look at his Mom. He grabbed his bag and bolted out the door.

7:00am
7:05am
7:10am
7:15am

Mark looked at his phone before dialing a number.

“Hello?” A familiar voice answered but sounded strangely distant.

“Where are you?”

“At school. Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Ha ha…” Jeffrey’s laughter echoed through the line. “Late as usual. You know the last bell rings in fifteen minutes.”

“I know.” Mark snapped, his annoyance rising. “Aren’t you going to pick me up?”

There was a brief silence on the other end. “What are you talking about?” Jeffrey said, his tone shifting from amused to confusion. “You know I always take Gina to school.”

Mark held his tongue, the phone feeling heavier in his hand.

Jeffrey continued, his tone turning impatient. “Gotta go … we’ll talk later.” Then the line went dead.

It had been years since Mark had run to school, and the middle school was much closer to his house than the high school. Thankfully, he was in much better shape now.

It felt good to run. Running was the one area he’d always excelled. Mark stretched out his stride and even with his center of gravity shifted and muscles leaned out, he was gliding down the street with an efficiency that almost felt supernatural.

But his brief respite ended as soon as the school came into sight.

“Freak.”

The word came from a group of sophomores leaning against a nearby wall. Students that young wouldn’t normally dare attack a senior, let alone one on the football team, but he’d been getting remarks from everyone since dropping the ball. Instead of reacting, Mark did the same thing he’d done all week. He kept his head down and hurried towards his locker.

The slip of paper inside the locker called to Mark as soon as he opened the door. The handwritten note used pink parchment, its looping letters of red ink written in feminine script.

Your shame no longer hides,
it blooms as frost provides.
The curse I wove runs deep,
a vow you're bound to keep.
To wear the long-sought crown,
you must put on the gown.
And pay the price to fire,
the change your heart desires.

Mark stared at words and a sudden gust of wind ripped through the corridor, whipping locker doors shut and leaving the smell of ozone in its wake. A look down the hall showed it empty.

*** RIIINNNGGG ***

“Shit.” Mark shoved the paper into his pocket, its warmth now pressing against his thigh.

“Where’s your pass, Miss Lansing?”

Mark stood in the doorway of the classroom with one foot still in the hallway. Mr. Popson stared at Mark with an annoyance that bordered on anger.

‘Miss?’, Mark thought. He cleared his throat, trying to force a bass note that simply wasn’t there. “The bell just rang.”

“You weren’t inside when the bell rang,” Mr. Popson replied, his voice devoid of any warmth. “You know the rules. If you’re late, you have to go to the office and get a pass.”

A ripple of snickers echoed through the classroom.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Mark said. He’d been late to class a dozen times this year and not once had he been sent to the office.
Mr. Popson didn’t blink. He didn’t even look up from his class ledger. “Leave now, Miss Lansing.”

The last two words hit Mark like a physical blow. He stood frozen, thankfully not frozen from Maiden’s Delight, but the words ‘Miss Lansing’ had an energy of their own. Mark looked around the room hoping to see the class laughing at their prank. Instead, the room fell eerily quiet.

“Freak!” a voice shouted from the back of the room.

Mark turned toward the sound, then back to Mr. Popson expecting a response, but the man’s face remained impassive.

Mark stepped backward out of the class. As the door swung shut, waves of laughter surged through the room and continued as Mark ran down the hall.

Vice Principal Ryan didn’t look happy to see him. "You’re making a bad habit of coming to my office, Miss Lansing."

‘Shit. Miss Ryan too?’ A spike of panic filled Mark’s bones. It wasn't just the word 'Miss'. It was the absolute certainty in her voice, as if the world decided to rewrite his identity while he was sleeping.

Mark swallowed. "I got to class two seconds after the bell rang."

"So you admit you were late." Miss Ryan motioned towards her office. "It’s long past time you and I had a serious talk."

Mark followed, "Yes ma’am." He sat in the chair but didn’t say another word.

Miss Ryan leaned back as she sat, her eyes studying Mark as she did so. "You’re making this transition a lot harder than it needs to be, Marcella."

‘Marcella?’ The name hit like a ton of bricks. “What do you mean?”

Miss Ryan gave Mark a queer look. "Half the county was up in arms when you showed up to school in August full of a summer’s worth of hormones. I’ve done my best to support you, I’ve even let you practice with my field hockey team, but you need to meet me halfway. If you don’t take this seriously, you’re giving the haters exactly what they want."

"I’m sorry…" Mark’s voice trailed off, not sure how to respond.

"Has anyone in school given you any trouble?" Miss Ryan said, her tone softening.

Mark shrugged, "I don’t think Mr. Popson likes me."

Miss Ryan’s lips curved into a smile. "That’s because you keep showing up late to his class, Marcella.”

“True.” Mark murmured, the name Marcella continuing to bounce in his brain.

“How’s the bathroom situation?” Miss Ryan switched to a harsher tone in an instant. “Is that going to be a continuing problem?"

Mark blinked as the question took him by surprise. "The bathroom situation?"

"In our initial meetings, you agreed to use the gender-neutral bathroom.” Miss Ryan stated flatly. “I’m sure you understand parents’ concerns about you using the girl’s bathroom. You agreed to use the gender-neutral bathroom."

"Ohh … yeah. It hasn’t been a problem. I don’t use the bathroom at school."

Miss Ryan frowned, “Except at the school dance, last Saturday night.”

“Oh.” Memories of that first change came rushing back. The music. His connection with Emily. Running to the bathroom. “I forgot about that.”

"I haven’t forgotten." Miss Ryan said, pulling a hall pass from her desk and scribbling a note. "I’m giving you after school detention."

Mark said, "What? But you said…"

"Mr. Popson has been complaining that I've been treating you special, and he’s right. You clearly aren’t learning any lessons from me ignoring your tardiness."

"I won’t be late again, Miss Ryan. I promise."

Miss Ryan interrupted, "Save it, Miss Lansing. I’ve heard it all before. Next time, wake up earlier."

"I’m doing my best… it’s just…" Mark leaned forward. He didn’t expect the torrent of tears that started running down his face.

Two strong arms pulled Mark into a tight hug and the scent of Miss Ryan’s overpowering perfume filled his senses. She whispered into his ear, and the sound of an administrator disappeared, “I can’t begin to know what you're going through. I know it’s got to be tough.”

“You have no idea.” Mark sobbed.

Miss Ryan held him for several minutes and Mark cried until he could cry no more. When he pulled back, Miss Ryan offered a compassionate smile. “Feel better?”

Mark nodded. “A little.”

"Good." She placed the hall pass and detention note on the table. "Detention starts five minutes after the final bell. Don’t be late, or you’ll get another."

"Seriously, Miss Ryan?"

“You came to the wrong place if you are expecting a soft touch.”

“Of course not, ma’am.” Mark’s football training snapped in. “Thank you ma’am.”

Mark lingered for a moment, waiting to be dismissed but Miss Ryan didn’t look up as she continued making notes. When she finished she stared at Mark, her stare so intense he thought his tears might return.

"Do you mind if I give you some advice?"

Mark shrugged, "I don’t mind."

Miss Ryan leaned forward, her expression shifting from the impassive stare of a vice principal to something else, "I think your transition would be easier if you tried to fit in, Marcella. I’ve seen hundreds of students cycle through these halls over the years. The secret to surviving high school isn't about standing out, it's about finding where you belong."

Mark shook his head, the name ‘Marcella’ still ringing in his ears, "What do you mean?"

“Asking you to join the field hockey team wasn’t a punishment, but you refuse to practice. You haven’t spent a single ounce of effort trying to get to know your teammates,” Miss Ryan said, “Except for Emily, of course.”

Mark nodded, his mind racing. "Of course."

Miss Ryan shook her head, a slow, rhythmic motion. “I don’t get you, Miss Lansing. When you asked for the meeting in August, your mother insisted that we accommodate you. Now, it feels like you’re fighting the change. Are you having second thoughts?”

“No … I mean … I’m not. I mean … I’m very confused right now.” Mark stammered.

Miss Ryan sighed, “I’m sure this is a very confusing time for you. We have a counselor on staff who has experience helping girls like you, but she’s told me you’ve refused to see her. The burden you carry is too heavy to solve all alone, Marcella.”

“I know.” Mark didn’t know. He didn’t know a thing. Not about the meeting, not his mother’s demands, not about the counselor. But the words felt safe in this storm of rewritten memories.

Miss Ryan’s eyes traveled downward and then back up, “You know … you could make this easier for yourself. You’re wearing a loose sweatshirt, ill-fitting jeans with your hair in a bun and no makeup. I expected someone so adamant about a male-to-female transition to be more…” She shrugged. “…girly.”

Mark opened his mouth to defend himself, but the words died in his throat. "I'm not... I mean, I just..." He wanted to tell her that he wasn't transitioning by choice. He wanted to tell her his real name. He wanted to tell her about the dropped pass. But he knew it would sound insane.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Miss Ryan’s face snapped back to her normal stony appearance. “Please forget I said that. Forget the comment entirely.”

Mark nodded, "I should probably get to class."

“Yes ... yes. Do that,” Miss Ryan replied, "Go on, Miss Lansing. We can talk later at practice."

Mark couldn't face Mr. Popson or endure the jeers of his classmates. Instead, he hid in a broom closet near Emily’s first class, spending the time running back events in his head and coming to a single conclusion - the entire world had gone mad. He waited for the bell then ambushed Emily when she exited, pulling her towards an empty corner before popping the question. “Do you remember me?”

Emily paused, her expression shifting from surprise to genuine confusion. "Of course I remember you, Mark. Why are you acting so weird?"

‘Mark.’ He never thought he’d be so glad to hear someone say that name. He embraced Emily in a tight hug when he heard it. “Oh, thank you … thank you … thank you.”

Emily pulled away. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Something happened to Bridget’s spell.” Mark’s words came out all at once. “Miss Ryan thinks I should wear makeup, everyone keeps calling me Marcella, and the whole school thinks I’ve taken hormones to turn myself into a girl. And for some reason, I guess I’m on the field hockey team now.”

Emily stared for a moment then broke into a laugh, “Seriously?”

“This isn’t funny.” Mark said.

“You on the field hockey team is kind of funny.”

“No, it’s not.”

Emily asked, “Have you called Bridget?”

“I left a message.” Mark replied, “It went straight to voice mail.”

Emily nodded, “Bridget doesn’t strike me as an early riser. Fiona’s the same way. I wonder if all witches stay up late. It would make sense. The books I’ve read say witches prefer to cast spells at night.”

As Emily spoke, her voice softened, and while her eyes didn't close, they lost focus. Mark felt the note in his pocket grow warmer. Seconds later, Emily’s eyes seemed to turn into a vacant mask. “No.” Mark shouted. “Not you too.” He grabbed Emily by the shoulders.

Emily smiled as soon as Mark touched her, and her mind seemed to clear unaware of what had just happened. She started moving down the hall. “I gotta go. I can’t be late for class. We’ll call Bridget after lunch. You can tell me more then.”

*** RINNNNGGGG ***

The sound of the bell shook Mark from his own stupor. He shouted after his girlfriend. “Sounds good,” then began running too. The last thing he needed was another trip to Miss Ryan’s office.

Chapter 21

Smiles and whispers echoed through the lunch line but no one said anything directly to Mark.

Emily stood next to him, “How was morning classes?”

Mark shook his head, trying to forget the odd looks and jeers. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Emily seemed to understand and didn’t say a word until they got to the front of the line. “I’ll have a salad and an apple juice.”

Needing something familiar, Mark ordered the same lunch he got every day - cheeseburger, tater tots, an apple, and grape juice.

He started towards the football table out of habit but Emily took him by the arm, guiding him to her table instead. “I think it’s best if you sit with us today.”

Mark took a deep breath before nodding. “Yeah. You’re right.”

The field hockey team filled up most of the side table, at least twenty girls of all shapes and sizes all engaged in various conversations.

“Finally decided to join us?” Gwen asked.

Mark shrugged, feeling the weight as twenty pairs of eyes turned towards him. “It feels weird to sit here.”

“No one is twisting your arm to stay.” Emily shot back, though her grip on his hand remained steady.

Emily whispered under her breath, “You don’t have to talk. Just eat.”

Mark looked over at the football table. They seemed louder today, their discussions continuing as if Mark never existed. Jeffrey sat in the center, the undisputed king of his court. His eyes locked with Mark’s for an instant, and Jeffrey returned a subtle nod, but gave nothing more.

The girls continued their discussions as Mark continued to stare at the football table. He’d sat there for three years, but their brotherhood with him had disappeared in an instant. He’d passed Jeffrey in the hall a few times, but his best friend had ghosted him. Now Jeffrey was laughing and joking with the team.

Mark took a bite of his sandwich to fight back his tears. He took another and another. He didn’t care if the girls stared as they ate their salads. His lunch was gone in under a minute.

Emily didn’t say a word until he’d finished. "Is it true Coach Ryan said she thinks you should wear makeup?"

Mark nodded.

Emily said, "You could get her fired for saying that."

“Yeah.” Mark laughed, “Maybe that would get me off the field hockey team.” The very thought of him on the field hockey team was ludicrous. Emily was right. This whole day was ridiculous, and he let out a laugh and found he couldn’t stop.

“What’s so funny?” Gwen asked.

It took a second for Mark to catch his breath. “Me on the field hockey team.”

A second girl butted in. “Yeah. You suck.”

“I’m learning.” These girls were hitting balls with sticks. It couldn’t take long to figure out.

A shorter girl with a long blonde ponytail spoke up, "You sit on the bleachers during practice and play with your phone. That’s hardly learning.”

A third girl said, “She’s barely on the team.” Another added, “I don’t understand why Coach Ryan puts up with it. She’d never let any of us get away with that.”

The third girl responded, “Coach Ryan allows it because she knows Marcy would embarrass herself if she went on the field.”

Mark’s face grew hot, “I could be good if I tried.”

Another of the girls mocked. “Sure you could.”

Mark defended himself. “I’m a good athlete. I was on the football team.”

“Field hockey is not football.” The first girl said, speaking to Mark like she was talking to a third-grader. “We do a lot more running than football players."

“I can run.”

“You don’t run the distances we do.”

Mark knew it was useless. Trying to explain to these girls would only dig a deeper hole. Emily smiled as she squeezed his hand.

“I’ve got you on speaker. Emily is here.”

“Take me off speaker.” Bridget ordered.

Mark pressed a button. “Okay. It’s just me.”

“Good. Whoever did this might be trying to listen.” Bridget waited a second and took a deep breath.

Mark asked, “You know about the change?”

“Of course” Bridget answered, “I have people watching your school. I thought we might be dealing with a rogue witch.”

“Seriously?” Mark exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I didn't want to say anything until I was sure.” Bridget replied.

"You lied to me."

“I didn’t lie. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. There is a difference.” Bridget shuffled some papers. “We have some good leads.”

Only one name came to Mark’s mind. “Have you looked at Tim Miller?”

Bridget said, “I CAN’T talk specifics over the phone, and you need to be careful what you say in school. That place is brimming with magic and people are listening. Meet me after school, and, I promise, I’ll tell you everything I’m allowed to say.”

Mark said, “I’m going to kick his fucking ass.”

Bridget laughed, “Be smart, Mark. You don’t strike me as the fighting type and Mr. Miller was bigger than you BEFORE the events of the past week.”

Mark said, “So you have looked at him.”

“Perhaps but let’s play this out.” Bridget’s voice softened. “Let’s say this Tim Miller is a witch who has the ability to curse you on a whim. Do you really think confronting him directly is a good idea?”

Mark nodded. Bridget had a point. “Probably not.”

Bridget lowered her voice to a whisper. “Today’s spell appears to have affected the memory of every person in town. That isn’t something a low level caster could achieve. I’ve called for more help to make sure this is kept under wraps.”

Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Is that all you care about?”

Bridget said, “I care about you too, Mark, but I need you to trust me. We’ll only get through this by being patient.”

Mark looked down at his body. If he was any more patient it wouldn’t be long until there wasn’t anything left of him. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” The line went dead.

Mark looked at Emily.

Emily asked, “Are we kicking Tim Miller’s ass?”

Mark looked at his withered arms and shook his head. “No.”

“Damn.” Emily answered, “That guy’s a real asshole. His sister Tina is even worse.”

“You think?” Jeffrey had always thought Tina was one of the nicer cheerleaders. Jeffrey had tried to set them up on a double date, but Mark knew that was never going to happen. She was blonde, beautiful, and had rich parents. She was also one of Gina’s best friends. “Oh shit.”

“What’s that?”

Mark said, “I thought of another suspect.”

“Who?”

“Gina.” Mark answered. “That girl has always been jealous of my relationship with Jeffrey. Now she’s riding to school with him.”

“You might be on to something. I’ve always thought all the cheerleaders were a bunch of witches.” Emily’s lip curled into a smile. “But with a B instead of a W.”

Mark shook his head. Emily’s views on cheerleaders were long established. “We should get going. I don’t need another detention.”

“You got detention?” Emily’s eyes narrowed, “Anything I should know?”

Mark grabbed his books. “No time. I’ll tell you at practice.”

Kaya and Bella sat perched by the window when Mark arrived. They looked less like students in detention and more like they were lounging around at their own private club.

"You got detention too?" Mark asked.

Kaya flashed a grin, "This place is like our second home."

The woman in charge of detention took a roll call at exactly five minutes after the top of the hour. Mark sat in silence, not sure what to do but seeing the detention monitor pull out a romance novel, he opened his calculus text and pretended to study.

Actual study was out of the question. Mark’s mind remained in a perpetual loop of the day’s disasters - Mr. Popson’s angry stare, Miss Ryan’s mention of the name ‘Marcella’, and a football team that blinked him out of existence. And behind it all, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that every corner hid the antagonist who was pulling his strings.

Bella raised her hand, "Can I go to the bathroom?"

Kaya spoke as well. "Me too."

The woman didn’t bother to look up. "Don’t take too long."

They both smiled at Mark as they passed, nodding that he should join in on whatever mischief they had planned. Mark shook his head, but soon urgency overrode his caution. He’d spent half the day drinking liquids in hopes they might rid him of the pounding headache he’d acquired. Now the pressure between his legs had built into an insistence he could no longer ignore.

"Can I go to the bathroom too?" Mark asked, desperately waving his hand.The detention monitor didn’t look up as she waved back.

The map on the wall showed they’d put the gender-neutral bathroom in the most inconvenient spot possible, on the third floor behind the science labs. It would take him at least five minutes to get there, and another five minutes to get back and the last thing he needed to do was to piss off the detention lady.

Meanwhile, the boys’ bathroom was right there, a mere twenty feet away. He’d peed inside hundreds of times over the years and with school being out for over a half hour, the risk was minimal. A quick sneak in and a quick sneak out.

He opened the door and saw someone’s head turn.

The classmate didn't just stare as his eyes lingered. The young man’s gaze automatically moved from Mark’s narrowed waist to his rounded chest, and his look of curiosity quickly soured into something more aggressive. "You come in here to see something you like, faggot?"

"No." Mark said, his voice betraying an underlying femininity. "Sorry. Wrong door."

Mark backed away before the boy had a chance to say anything else, running down the hall, finding his locker, and waiting a full minute until his heart stopped pounding. Mark knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really. But Miss Ryan was right about using the gender-neutral bathroom. Unfortunately, he didn’t trust his bladder’s current ability to climb two flights of stairs.

The answer was obvious though not one Mark relished. The sign, a simple silhouette of a skirt, called to him as he stood before it. He stood there for a full minute, trapped between the memory of who he was and the physical reality of what he‘d become. The urgency demanding relief pulled the door open.

Bella and Kaya stood near the sink with hands behind their backs, and a cloud of vapor dissipating in air.

"Dammit. You scared the shit out of me, Marcella."

"Sorry."

Mark didn’t dare to look either in the eye as he ran to the stall. A second later his jeans fell to the floor.

Mark always heard women had tiny bladders. Now he knew. Relief came almost at once. So did the cold.

‘No … no … no …’ This shouldn’t be happening. He’d changed from peeing already.

Cold fingers crept up his body and Mark wasn’t sure how to react. All the easy changes were gone. Anything that changed now would be quite noticeable. He should have realized the destination long before it stopped. It had been almost two days since it last visited his chest. The change didn’t take long, covering the entire area, and swelling his chest in a second. The cold disappeared, but the swelling didn’t.

There was no mistaking his chest now, even under a sweatshirt. Before he could rationalize the bumps on his chest were pectoral muscles. Now he was the same size as Emily.

“Is everything okay in there?” Kaya’s voice called from the other side of the stall door.

“Yeah?” Mark replied, though his response sounded more like a question. He spent a long moment staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the new weight pulling at his chest.

Bella and Kaya stood at the sink when he finally exited.

Kaya held out the vape. "It sounds like you could use a hit."

Mark shook his head. There was no way of knowing what was inside the vape but Mark had a pretty good idea. “I don’t need any more trouble.”

“Are you sure?" Bella said, "This always calms me down when this place gets to me."

Mark’s mind raced through the day’s events. Achieving anything approaching calm sounded like a pipe dream at this point. A day earlier he could blame Fiona’s influence for his bad choices. This would be all on him.

Mark asked, “How does it work?”

Both girls laughed as Kaya held it out, "Push this button. Then take it slow."

A second later the bathroom door burst open, revealing the detention lady who had a big smile on her face. "Gotcha. The three of us are going to get to know each other much, much better."

Mark looked down to see the vape pen in his hand. Fuck. Could this day get any worse?

Chapter 22

"A week’s detention?"

Mark waited for Emily in the stands. He had to admit, field hockey practice wasn’t as boring as he’d expected. Groups of girls were already on the field, moving the ball around from person to person.

"Did you miss the part where I told you about my chest?"

"I’m dating a bad girl." Emily grinned.

"Shut up Emily. That’s not funny."

"It’s a little funny."

A voice called from the bottom of the bleachers. "Heya Marcy!"

Mark saw a girl waving frantically at him. He waved back without a thought. "Heya Alice! Looking good out there."

"Thanks." Alice blushed. "You should have joined us. I could have shown you a few things."

Mark shook his head. "Nah. It wouldn’t be …" He was about to say fair. He changed it at the last second. "… fun."

A loud voice called from behind. "You could have lots of fun, Miss Lansing. More fun than sitting in detention all next week."

Mark saw Miss Ryan staring down at him. "You heard about that?"

"I hear everything."

Alice ran up the steps. "Do you think we could try Marcy out with the starters? She was great on the football team last year. She’s almost as fast as me."

Mark said, “I’m faster.”

“I like your confidence, Miss Lansing.” Miss Ryan’s laughter echoed. "But the school board and the county would fry me if I used Marcella in a real game. Besides, she can barely hold a stick."

Mark said, “I can hold my own.”

“So you’re willing to try?”

Mark shrugged. It’d be more fun than sitting on the bleachers.

The team split into two sides. On the far side, the starters moved through their passing drills in crisp, practiced silence. On the near side where Mark sat, the players were considerably worse.

“It looks like she’s never held a stick before.”

Mark knew every eye was on him. The first drill looked simple enough. Five cones stacked in a single line with an object of dribbling the ball through them while keeping your head up. The others did it with little difficulty. Mark’s first two touches were clumsy. The third sent the ball out of reach. Someone snorted when he had to run and pick the ball up.

“I’m not sure why she's here.

His next second attempt through the line didn’t go any better.

A voice shouted from midfield. “Come here.”

Mark snapped. “What?” Then he saw Emily’s face.

“How’s it going?” She smiled.

She’d clearly been watching. “Shut up.”

Emily pointed at Alice who was making a drive up the left side of the field. The ball seemed attached to her stick as she sprinted to beat a defender.

“See that? Notice how Alice is using small guided taps. You’ve got to use finesse not power. Speed only comes with practice.” Emily lowered her voice. “Remember, how you retained part of Fiona when Maiden’s Delight did its thing. You used the spell to copy my hands. Alice’s hands too. You’ve got the ability inside, you need to unlock it.”

Mark knew better than anyone that hands without practice didn’t mean much. “This isn’t as easy as catching a ball.”

Emily smiled, “So you’re saying field hockey is tougher than football?”

Mark shook his head, “Shut up.”

The coach blew the whistle, “Next drill.”

Everyone had paired up by the time Mark joined the group.

“Need a partner?” Mark turned to see Emily had followed him.

The drill looked easy enough. Line up ten yards apart and pass the ball back and forth without letting it stop.

Emily hit a soft pass. “Cushion it with the stick, don’t block it.”

The ball hit Mark’s stick and bounced four feet away.

“Not bad.” She said, but the grin on her face said otherwise.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“You never came to any of my games. You said my sport was easy.” Emily smiled. “Yes. I’m loving this.”

Mark hit the ball, angrier than he’d meant, but Emily trapped it with her stick before balancing it at the end. “I know you’ve got soft hands. That was true before last Friday. You need to catch the ball like an egg, not a football.”

“I’ve caught footballs thrown at forty miles per hour.”

“This pass will be closer to four.” Emily hit a slow roller.

Mark tried to guess the speed and angled his stick to stop it. The hockey ball hit with a thud but didn’t bounce off.

“Not bad.” Emily smiled like he’d done something amazing.

“I don’t want your pity.”

“Hit it back. Let’s see how you deal with a faster pass.”

Mark passed it back. It almost looked like he knew what he was doing.

Coach Ryan blew the whistle. “Good practice, ladies. Go hit the showers.”

Mark looked at Coach Ryan.

Coach Ryan waited for the others to leave. “Not you.”

Mark nodded, “I know.”

Coach Ryan stared at Mark, “I notice Miss Cawthorn lent you her old equipment for today’s practice.”

“Yeah.”

Coach Ryan nodded, “Show up to the locker room early tomorrow, and I’ll have the team manager get you something better."

“I can’t. I have detention.”

“I know.” Coach Ryan nodded, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll get rid of those detentions, but for the next week you need to show up early to practice and help the team managers set up the cones and nets. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair.” Mark said. Anything to get out of detention.

Mark waited outside the locker room until Emily exited. She and Alice exited together with Alice jumping into the waiting arms of Aden Cutler. The pair walked down the hallway clearly in the throes of romance.

Mark looked at Emily. "When did that happen?"

"Yesterday. Rumor is she hooked up with him under the bleachers last night."

“Did we do that?" Mark watched the pair exit hand in hand. “Fiona was still affecting me when I used Maiden’s Delight on her.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Emily shrugged.

“I feel bad.”

"Don’t you think they make a cute couple?" Emily said, "Alice hasn’t dated much and Aden’s a nice guy. It’s not the worst outcome."

“I know, Aden. He is a nice guy.” Mark stared at his backside as the two disappeared out of sight. "I still feel bad."

Emily stood and offered Mark her hand. "We can’t worry about her right now. We have our own problems. Or have you forgotten?"

Mark pulled at his underwear and adjusted his bra strap. "I wish I could forget."

Chapter 23

Bridget stood at the front door when they arrived. “I thought you were coming here right after school.”

Emily said, “We had field hockey practice.”

“Field hockey?” Bridget looked at Mark then frowned, "Hurry inside, we have a lot to discuss."

A look around the room showed Fiona and two other girls Mark didn’t recognize. “Can we talk in private?” He gave Emily a look. “Just you and me?”

Bridget nodded, “Of course. There’s an office in the back.”

Mark followed Bridget through the common area. No runes lined the floor today. Inside the office, every surface contained piles of paper and stacks of books with arcane titles.

Bridget smiled. “Fiona isn’t the tidiest of souls.”

Mark nodded. “Clearly not.”

Bridget closed the door then made several weird movements with her hands. She smiled when Mark gave her a look of concern. “Plywood is little match for a witch seeking to eavesdrop. Our conversation is now secure against prying ears.”

Mark looked through the blinds. He could see Emily on the other side of the room talking to one of the new girls. Fiona was nowhere in sight.

Bridget said, “Your voice mail mentioned a note.”

Mark pulled it from his backpack.

Bridget instructed, “Set it on the table. I have a feeling it has been spelled. It’s better if I don’t touch it.”

Mark did as she instructed.

Your shame no longer hides,
and blooms as frost provides.
The curse I wove runs deep,
a vow you're bound to keep.
But if you seek the crown,
you must put on the gown.
And pay the price to fire,
the change your heart desires.

“Has anyone else seen this?”

Mark shook his head. “I’ve only shown it to you”

“Not Emily?”

Mark shook his head again.

Bridget looked through the blinds. “I figured as much.” She read the note again. “Have you told her about the changes to your body?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on Mark. I can practically smell the estrogen dripping from your pores. Are you going to force me to say it? I know there’s a reason you wanted to meet me alone.” She glanced at Mark’s waist.

“You know?”

“I wouldn’t be a very good witch if I didn’t.” Bridget said, “When did it happen?”

“I’m not sure exactly.” Mark didn’t look at Bridget as he spoke. “Everything was different when I woke up.”

“I see.” Bridget nodded. She stared at Mark, but he didn’t sense any judgment. “You’ll need to be more careful going forward.”

“Why?”

“To this point, the changes to your body have been cosmetic. Last night, you changed on the inside. Do you need me to explain what that means?”

Mark pressed his hands against his belly. It was thinner than he remembered and his waist higher. He’d seen no signs of his testicles when he’d last inspected the area. “Does it mean I’m going to have periods?”

“Well, yeah… there’s that, but there’s something more important for our purposes.” Bridget walked to the desk. “You’re creating your own feminine energy.”

“Feminine energy?” Mark repeated without thought. His mind had gone elsewhere for a moment, still stuck on the idea he could have periods. “Is that why changes are happening to me even though I’m not touching girls?”

“Yes. The spell has been drawing on your increasing femininity.” Bridget nodded, “A Maiden’s Delight spell is meant for young women who’ve had their first menses. When cast on someone like you, it appears to have a mind of its own.”

Mark shuddered, “So the note is right. It is a curse.”

“Of a sort.” Bridget agreed. “For what it is worth, I went to your high school today. I started at your locker and spent the afternoon following magical trails but found nothing but false leads and remnants of old spells. Whoever is doing this is good at covering their tracks. And combined with the note it’s clear the spell is not a mistake.”

Mark found it hard to breathe. “Why me?”

“That’s a good question.”

“What about my breasts?”

Bridget’s face hinted at a slight smile, like she hadn’t expected the question. “What about them?”

“The girls at field hockey practice acted like I’d had them all year. And why does everyone think I’m transgender all of a sudden?”

“More good questions.” Bridget grabbed Fiona’s pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind?”

Mark shook his head.

“This witch we’re facing is good.” Bridget lit a cigarette, taking a quick puff before closing her eyes. “They corrupted my illusion, so we know they’re strong.” Bridget crushed the barely spent cigarette in the ashtray. “I’m fairly certain that note is a memory charm that adapts as you change.”

“I guess that’s good.”

“Yeah. I suppose so.” Bridget shrugged, “It makes my job of keeping everything under wraps easier. Have you studied the words of the note?”

Mark nodded.

Bridget recited the words without looking at the note “… if you seek the crown, you must put on the gown.”

“They want to emasculate me. They want me in a dress.” Mark said, “I thought of someone who hates me as much as Tim. Her name is Gina Young. She’s Jeffrey’s girlfriend.”

“Why does she hate you?”

“She hates how much time I spend with Jeffrey …” Mark stopped himself. “... well … the time we used to spend together.”

“I’ll look into her.” Bridget made a note, “I shouldn’t tell you this but the Miller family has deep roots in Massachusetts. I’ve spoken with Timothy’s mother, Nora. She claims she has done no spellcasts in the school. There are rules against such things.”

“So we’re back to square one.”

“Patience, Mark.” Bridget advised. “I understand this is tough, but this witch isn’t doing this without reason. The note is a good sign. It means we’ve moved to the next stage, and they will contact you again. When they do, my people will catch them.”

“What about Jeffrey?”

“The quarterback?” Bridget asked.

Mark looked at the ground. “Yeah.”

“Interesting.” Bridget smiled. Her eyebrows rose as she reread the note. “’And pay the price to fire, the change your heart desires.’ Is it safe to assume Jeffrey is the reason you didn’t show Emily the note?”

Mark nodded. “It’s one of the reasons.”

Bridget asked, “Is this feeling a new thing?”

Mark moved his head from side to side in an almost imperceptible manner.

“How old are you, Mark?”

“I turned eighteen last month.”

“So you’re an adult.”

“I don’t feel like an adult.”

“No one ever feels like an adult.” Bridget spoke in a motherly voice. “That’s why it’s so hard being one. It’s on you to make a grown up decision, knowing you have to live with the consequences.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I think you do.”

Mark thought for a second. “I need to talk to Emily.”

Bridget smiled.

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