STEPPING OVER
Copyright © Tracy Lane 2005/2021
All rights reserved

The wind continued to pick up as the day wore on, shaking leaves from the trees and driving swarms of cicadas through the Cypress grove. The girls descended from the bars and chased each other around the cenotaph until they fell to the grass in a jumbled heap, breathless and gasping and giggling with delight. Once they'd caught their breath, they climbed up into the Indian Fort to play a few rounds of Rock-KissesPaper, which was how they normally concluded their day. Rock-KissesPaper was their special version of the classic schoolyard hand-game, in which the loser had to kiss the winners on the lips. It was a very secret thing, this soft pressing of the lips, something they had sworn to keep between themselves. It had been Kitty's suggestion, made some months before when she first started Crossing Over. Much to her surprise, the others had agreed without comment, as if kissing their best friend was the most natural thing in the world.

Which, of course, it was.

The afternoon finally wound down around 4.00, when the shadows began lengthening to a noticeable degree. Alerted by some obscure telepathy unknown to modern science, all three slid down out of the Fort and walked over to the water fountain (half an hour of non-stop kissy-kissy being thirsty work and all). This was their last pit stop before heading their separate ways, Kitty via the Cypress Grove, J & S through the oval. It had been a fine, cool day, but they were all ready to head home for a nice, warm dose of mother-love. Somewhere beyond the trees, households were clicking into evening mode. Baths being run in anticipation of the evening's girl-washing festivities.

"See you tomorrow?" Suzie asked, her hair tousled by the rising gale. Janet stood close behind her, carefully straightening out her rumpled t-shirt. Her mom would probably have a heart attack when she got home, same as every night.

"Yeah, okay," Kitty replied, unconsciously fussing with her own clothing, "over by the swings again?" The girls nodded their agreement, Janet readjusting her hair-band in the background.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Okay, bye"

They stepped in to exchange brief girly kisses (on the cheek this time), moist and sweet as the taste of rock-candy. Kitty felt a light hand patting her bottom. Probably Janet - Jan Connor was an incorrigible bottom-patter, always had been. Not that Kitty minded in the least, there was something rather endearing about the gesture. They said goodbye one last time, touching fingers as they turned away, and the afternoon was over.

Kitty returned to her quiet spot beneath the trees, preparing herself for the return trip. The Cypress Grove was a Pine Glade back on Kim's side of reality, one of a number of subtle differences between their two worlds. The surrounding countryside was pretty much the same - low foothills leading up to steeply sloping mountainsides. The layout of the city was virtually identical, but street names and other things were slightly off-kilter. Coronation Avenue was called Memorial Drive in Kim's world; Eastland Plaza was known as Dawnside Mall. These were all minor variations, barely discernable to the casual observer. The most significant difference, so far as Kitty could see, was that she was a boy over there.

And in some respects, that made all the difference.

Closing her eyes (unlike Kim, she didn't like to watch the world melt and shift around her), Kitty uttered her codeword and Crossed Over. The moment of transfer spun out to eternity; the ground seemed to vanish beneath her feet. Plunging through the quantum fabric of the universe, Kitty felt her clothes whipped from her figure, her body dissolving and reforming at precisely the same instant. Stars glittered beneath her eyelids, blazing like miniature supernovas -

And Kim Taylor opened his eyes.

He was back in his world, still bearing the residue of his otherself. That lush tingling sensation was coursing through his nervous system, making his heart race like a trip hammer. He glanced down at himself, making sure he wasn't wearing a dress, then glanced around the Glade, listening for approaching footsteps. Had anyone seen him arrive? No, it was nearly four thirty, and the woodchip trail was deserted. He had to get home now. His Mom would be heating up the oven, wondering where he was this late in the afternoon.

Checking his watch, Kim headed up towards Memorial Drive. In some other universe, Kitty Tyler was walking along a disused bicycle path, treading precisely the same steps as himself. Somehow, they always managed to fall into sync whenever he decided to Step Over. They would probably remain in tune until he reached his front door. It was a paradox, impossible to explain, but that was how it appeared to work.

"Is that you, Kim?" his mother called out from the kitchen as he let himself in through the front door.

"Yes, Mom," he replied, kicking off his runners. The rich aroma of chicken casserole wafted down the hallway. Kim ran his tongue over his teeth, realizing for the first time how hungry he was.

"OK. Upstairs and wash up. Dinner's in ten minutes."

"Yes, Mom," he repeated, and trotted obediently up to the bathroom. Most of their conversations followed this minimalist pattern. No sentiment, no tenderness, no maudlin terms of endearment. His mother wasn't as openly affectionate as Kitty's. Women tend to treat boys differently to girls. Well, no big deal; the woman cooked a killer Sunday roast, which was how she usually demonstrated her love for him.

Leaning over the sink, Kim scrubbed his face and arms, watching himself closely in the mirror. He could almost see his twin standing on the other side, lathering up her tiny hands with liquid soap. They were still in sync, even now. Probably would be for the rest of the evening. Of course, superficial variations were inevitable. Kitty lived in an all-female household; her vanity was covered with bath oils, deodorants and exotic perfumes. Kim's marble-top was devoid of cosmetics, his mother kept everything in the medicine cabinet (particularly since she'd caught him experimenting with her lipstick).

Drying his face with a soft blue towel, Kim bid a silent farewell to his reflection and strode out into the hallway. Kitty walked with him, he could hear her thoughts echoing through the passages of his mind, like a voice murmuring through a paper wall. That wasn't too surprising; they were the same person after all. Always had been, although he'd never realized it until last year. Seemed like forever ago now, but when you're a kid, a year can last a lifetime.

He headed for stairs, thinking of the afternoon he (she) had spent at the park: the sun, the grass, the cool, gentle breeze. The gasping delight she'd felt, hanging upside down with her dress over her head. A heady mixture of pleasure and humiliation, it usually occurred when he imagined he was a girl - something which had baffled him for years, but made perfect sense since he'd discovered Kitty's existence. Small wonder he fantasized about being a girl.

In another reality, he was.

Looking out through an upstairs window, he saw that a blue twilight had fallen across Chamberlain. Streetlights flickered on one by one as he watched, sweeping past his house towards the west end of town. Kim had always thought it signaled the end of day (which, indeed, it does when you're nine years old). He descended the stairs with his hand on the rail, smiling gently to himself. There was a great deal of magic in his life. More, perhaps, than any child honestly deserved. He often wondered if there was any one else like him, if he was the only boy capable of spanning the boundaries between two separate worlds. He supposed there had to be others, but Crazy Mata had told him that he was unique. Rare, exceptional, one in a million. The only one who turned into a girl when he transferred.

"Dinner's ready," Mom called from the living room. They usually ate in front of the TV, same as any normal American family. Kim picked up his feet and scampered down the hallway, practically watering at the mouth. Strangely enough, he was always ravenously hungry after spending a day on the Other Side. Hungry, tired and thoroughly satisfied.

"Well, did you have a good time down at the park?" Lynne asked as Kim launched himself into a chair.

"Yeah," he replied, reaching for his plate, "we played on the swings and the bars and everything!"

"We?"

"J & S and I."

"Oh, yes, S and J," Mom nodded sagely, "your new friends. So, what else did you do?"

Lynne Taylor listened in mild amusement while her son regaled her with stories of the day's adventures, grateful that he was finally making friends. She knew he was something of a schoolyard pariah, that his classmates regarded him as an unwanted and rather unsavoury stranger. Originally she'd dismissed it as the result of a naturally timid personality, but recently, she'd begun to fear that Kim was socially maladjusted (the latest sound-bite bandied about by new-age therapists these days). The revelation that he was forming normal relationships came as something of a relief. And if it seemed a little odd that a nine-year old boy was hanging out with a couple of girls, Lynne didn't mind in the least.

For reasons she couldn't quite explain, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.