Summer Thing

By Eve Black

"LOOK," LESTER GRINNED, jabbing his bony finger into his buddy's rib. This was something he knew Daryl hated.

"What?!"

"Lookie." He handed the crumpled La Jolla College admission application over to his esteemed college.

Lester and Daryl were one of life’s weird ironies. Both had passed on college after barely passing high school. Each dove right into the deep end of the labor pool, floundered around a might and landed up working cheek and jowl in of all places¾a college. They had everything in common, most especially that they couldn’t stand the sight of the another.

"Barbie Thomas?" Daryl snorted. "Figures. Last-name-first gets 'em every time. What'd she check under sex? Males?"

"At least she's no lesbo."

The two squinted at the tiny snapshot that was paper-clipped to the sheet. Squinting right back at them was an undeveloped blue-eyed with wild blonde hair and a quirky grin.

"Toss it?" Lester hovered the offending submission over the shredder.

"Naw." Daryl snatched it from his hand and correctly keyed the data in. "I've always had a thing for Barbie."

NOW THE GEARS of academia might grind long winded but they do grind none the less. So it was something like two weeks later that Thomas Barbie burst into the kitchen and screeched, "Mom, I got in!"

"That's nice dear," she smiled all the while giving the sink of dirty dishes its fair share of due diligence.

"You don't understand! They took me–the college–in the Advanced Placement Summer Program!"

"Why that's wonderful!" She whipped her hands on her apron and gave her son a big hug. She worried about him a lot, maybe too much. But her having to be both mother and father to an anxious teen wore them both out.

"Mom!" Thomas squeaked, struggling to get his sneakers back on linoleum.

She placed him gently on terra firma. "Well, if you'd stop picking at your food you might just put some meat on those bones of yours."

"I don't need meat on my bones. I am going to be a computer scientist."

"I can't believe you're making such a fuss over going to summer school."

"It's not summer school, Mom. It's fun."

"Fun? In my day fun was boys and dating and kissing and–"

"Mom!"

"Look, I'm really very happy for you." And as evidence she bent at the waist and kissed him smack dab in the center of his forehead.

"Thanks."

"Now maybe you'll cut your hair?"

"No way. Us computer guys are supposed to be wild and wooly. You know, like a pirate."

"Pirate? You look more like the–“ Princess, she finished in her head. But like any smart mom what she said was nothing.

LATE BLOOMER¾THAT’S what his mother called him. At school they all called him Shrimp, Peewee and Pipsqueak. He had to agree. There were plenty of guys whose wrists were bigger than his biceps.

He didn’t have any real friends. Not that he was creepy or anything. It’s just that he was always worried he’d disappoint people¾let them down. Maybe his dad was to blame for that, the way he had just run off on him and his mom.

Other than that Thomas was your average kid ¾except for computers that is. He loved them¾trusted them.

Mr. White, his science teacher was the one who put him up to it, applying to that summer program. To Thomas it had seemed just another way to let folks down¾his teacher¾his mom¾himself.

Now, here it was the first day of class and he was running late.

"Mom!" Thomas sassed from upstairs. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I did," his mother sassed right back. "Three times."

She heard him clattering about his bedroom, like he was wrestling with someone and barely holding his own. In her head she could see him struggling into his never fail high top sneakers, saggy jeans and baggy sweatshirt. He'd top the whole thing off by yanking his wild hair back into a rag-tag ponytail.

When he clunked down the staircase she was standing at the bottom a brown paper lunch bag clutched in one fist.

"What no breakfast?"

"No time, mom." He grabbed the bag, kissed her on the cheek and was on his bike before the slam of the screen door.

THOMAS HAD TO peddle clear cross-town to get to the campus. He always felt a little embarrassed that here he was still wheeling about on two tires when most guys his age had four. But there was no way his mom and him could afford a car.

But as he whizzed by them and the buses creeping along in the traffic he grinned.

Thomas smelled and heard the Pacific before he saw it. He'd lived about Southern California all his life. And still every time he saw the ocean it surprised and thrilled him.

And, he smiled happily. From the seat of a bicycle is the only way to really see it.

But it never lasts. By the time he’d chained up his mountain bike and located the right building, floor and door he was back to his anxious self.

"Ah…" he stammered from the doorway of the classroom his mouth drooping open in awe. He couldn't believe it. There sprawled before him was an honest-to-God computer lab. There were four large workbenches. And sitting atop of each were two very impressive looking high-end workstations.

Every head in the lab turned as one and eyeballed him. They were all guys and every single one looked incredibly more grown-up and bigger than Thomas did.

"And you can only be Barbie," said what could only be the professor. The guy looked every inch the computer scientist. He had longish brown hair tied back in a raggedy ponytail and a beard like a bush flecked with gray. The dude even wore bell-bottoms.

"Sorry."

"Don't fret. We were just about to begin." Then he smiled and his face lit up and his eyes twinkled. He gestured with a welcoming palm to the last empty seat in the house.

It was a very long trek from that door to the chair right in front of the teacher. Thomas felt awful because of the odd way the others glared at him–like they were judging him–taking his measure.

Sitting down between his massive neighbors only made him feel more tiny and stupid.

But that all disappeared. For there perched in front of him was a state-of-the-art top-of-the-line honest to God RISC workstation¾not some brain-dead PC. His fingers longed to caress its keyboard and fondle its mouse.

"My name is Professor McIntosh," the teacher announced to the shinny bright faces decked out before him. "Your day will be divided into a morning lecture. That's me. Your afternoons you'll spend applying what you learn in lab.” He grinned a sly grin as if he knew a wondrous secret. “Believe me, you won't be bored. We begin with the concept of the Inference Engine."

Ideas and concepts so vast and sweeping they left Thomas breathless dived and swooped in and out of his head. Great men–great deeds–all for the glory of science.

He was home.

"THAT'S ALL FOR today’s lecture," Professor McIntosh finished.

Thomas looked over the man’s shoulder and stared suspiciously at the offending clock. That's just plain impossible, he said to himself. Morning couldn’t be over already.

Then the professor smiled again. Only this was a smile at least two orders of magnitude beyond any that had passed before. It was an impractical smile¾its brilliance as self-consuming as that of any supernova. But there it sat happy as a Jaybird. Thomas felt a weird kind of envy to think that someone could make someone else smile like that.

"And here's your lab instructor."

The woman who stepped before the class was The One with a capital T and O. Thomas was head or heels in love.

"This is Miss Baker. My prize student. Even smarter than she is pretty if that's possible. I leave you in her capable hands until the morrow."

"Good afternoon, guys. You'll each need to team up with one a buddy."

"Barbie?" the two teens on either side of Thomas blurted out together. Then they glared at each other over Thomas' head each willing the other to disintegrate.

"Would you be my–" gushed the guy on his left.

"I believe I was first," the other cut in.

Thomas couldn’t get a handle on just what was going down here. In his short and terrible life he'd always been the very last to be picked for any team–and only when nothing else was feasible. Now, it seemed these two boys might in point of fact come to fisticuffs over him.

"Why don't we let Barbie decide," Miss Baker said, placing a calming hand on each of their ruff and ready shoulders.

"I guess–ah–him." Thomas picked the one on his right for some unknown reason.

"It's destiny," the teenager grinned like he'd just hit it big in the lottery. He stuck out his right hand. "Glad to meet you, Barbie. I'm Ken."

IF THE LECTURE was home than the lab was heaven–and Miss Baker an angel. Thomas never wanted it to end.

But it did.

He'd been the last to come and now here he was the last to leave. He rose from his chair and trudged toward the door.

"Barbie? A word. Please."

"Yes, Miss Baker." Here it comes, he thought. The big let down. But, we're sorry. It was all a big mistake.

"Please call me Ruth. You know, you did extremely well today. You should be very proud of yourself."

That perked Thomas up and made him feel a whole lot better.

"I know, some of the material will be hard for you. And I want you to know that if you have any problems at all don't hesitate to call me anytime–day or night–for tutoring."

"Wow! That's neat! I don't know how to thank you."

"You know, you and I have a lot in common."

"We do?"

"Yes. The boys, they pick on you don't they?"

Thomas wilted just thinking about it. "They are hard on me sometimes."

"They did on me too," she nodded, resting her hand on his shoulder. "But just because science is dominated by chauvinistic males is no reason we have to dress like one is there?"

"Ma'am? I mean, Ruth."

"Yes," she smiled, reaching behind him and adjusting his ponytail. "Just between the two of us, with your grades I had to pull a lot of strings to get you into this program. But I know you won't let me down."

"Oh, I won't."

"See you tomorrow." She smiled once more and patted his head.

He wandered toward the door wondering what she had been going on about, but happy just to be with her.

"Barbie?"

"Yes," he answered turning at the door.

"Such a pretty name. Almost as pretty as you."

THOMAS TOOK THE long way home and all along the way he replayed his day over and over again in his head. How all the boys had looked at him–how Ken had been like a sloppy puppy, falling all over himself to help out–how Ruth had treated him like an equal.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

"I'm hungry," he said as soon as he burst through the front door.

"Dinner's almost—" his mother began as she came from the kitchen. Then she stopped dead in her tracks and regarded him with a crazy little crooked grin.

"What's wrong?" He checked to see if his fly was open or anything but everything seemed just fine.

"That's a nice do but don't you think it's a wee…girlish?"

Thomas scrunched up his face and looked at himself in the hall mirror. Ruth had neatened and rearranged his ponytail. It now poured like a fountain of gold from atop of his head–exactly like some cheerleader's.

"Ah!" he shrieked, returning it to its proper look. "It was a joke, mom. You know. I did it just before I came in."

"Very funny. Ha-ha," she said, though she looked more confused than amused. "Now wash up. Dinner's on the table."

MORE WORRIES, THAT WAS all Thomas needed. He tossed and turned in his bed for hours. He now knew why Ruth thought they were so much alike. He also knew why all the other boys treated him so special.

Thomas had just spent his whole first day of summer school as a girl. What made it worst was that the only reason he was there was because they thought he was a girl. And he wanted so very much to be there.

It's Hobson's choice. If he told his teachers, he was out. And Ruth, his The One would hate him forever. Not to mention all the guys would laugh and laugh. He'd never live it down.

No. No! NO! I will not let anyone take this from me, he shouted in his head. If I have to act the part of a schoolgirl then so be it! Later, once they see how smart I am then I'll tell them. I'll prove myself that's what I'll do. Then it'll all seem just a clever joke.

His last thought before falling asleep was, What's the big deal anyway? It's not like I have to wear a skirt or anything.

"HELLO BARBIE," RUTH smiled, swinging open the front door of her apartment.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you."

"No bother at all. Come right in."

Thomas couldn't believe he was in her apartment, seeing her things. Each was as elegant and beautiful as she was.

Ruth took a seat on the couch and patted the spot next to her.

When Thomas hesitated she said, "Don't worry, I've had all my shots."

He sat close enough to kiss her, the scent of her hair and body was as awesome as that of the ocean. To keep himself from saying anything stupid he dumped the books and papers out of his backpack onto her coffee table.

"Now," Ruth grinned. "What's your problem?"

"I've read the chapter three time but I still flubbed the quiz."

"Did you review your notes?"

"Ah…what notes?"

"Didn't you ever take notes in class before?" Ruth said in disbelief.

"Ah…no. I guess I never had to."

"Look, I know you're smart. But in college everyone's smart. You've got to get organized–get a system."

"Sure. But how?"

"Here's my secret," Ruth said all serious. "You get a different color notebook for each class. Then as soon as you sit down. You write down the date and a milestone."

"Ah…what exactly is a milestone?"

"You know, a keepsake. Like, it's a beautiful day or that the guy next to you is dreamy. Anything that fixes that time and moment firmly in your head."

"Right."

"Then you take down everything the old man says."

"But all that stuff's in the book isn't it?"

"Of course. And tons of other crap. What a professor does, at least a good one, is point out what's key. There's even a more important reason though."

"What's that?"

"That's what's going to be on the quiz."

"Oh."

" Now, you've got a lot of catching up to do. But between the two of us I think we can do it."

Thomas nodded.

"And one last thing. Don't forget to smile."

"Smile?" Thomas said

"Take it from me. A smile like yours will take you a long way."

"Thanks."

"But–"

"What?" Thomas asked, wanting more than anything to be someone she wanted.

"Well, it's just–you have such pretty eyes. Do you mind?"

"No. Anything."

Ruth leaned in close, her lips practically on top of his. In her eyes he saw charm, concentration and concern. Her breath was mild and moist on his face making him feel all flushed and fevered–and very-very overmatched. He glanced down, seeing the twin mounds of her perfect breasts rising and sinking with each breath.

All of a sudden he felt a quick prick then another as one by one she tweezed his eyebrows.

"You really don't have a clue do you, Barbie?"

"No."

"I'll have to have a little talk with your mother."

"No! I mean, no. She's just kind of busy that's all."

"Single parent?"

"Yes."

Ruth nodded knowingly. "You know, it's important that a girl look her best. I'm afraid to say this but it's still very much a man's world out there and every little bit helps."

Thomas didn't say anything, letting her work in silence

"There." Ruth leaned back and admired her handy work. "Much better."

I don't care what mom says, Thomas confessed to himself. It was worth it.

"I've got a surprise for you," She rose gracefully from the couch and disappeared into her bedroom. She returned moments later with a shopping bag that she set down on the coffee table.

"These were my niece's. But she kind of out grew them." She spread her hands out wide about where a girl's fanny would be. "I'm sure they'll fit you though."

She rummaged through the bag. "There're some tops and socks and jeans and slacks. Cute stuff. You're so lucky. You've got that kind of boyish figure that drives the guys bonkers."

"I think you're beautiful."

"Are you kidding? Girl to girl, look at these saddlebags and this rump. Guys run."

"No way. I'm sure there are lots of boys–I mean men–who'd just love to date you."

"Well, they better hurry. My biological clock is ticking. Speaking of which won't your mother be worried?"

Thomas thought of his mother sitting, worrying and stood. "I don't know how to thank you."

”Easy. Keep coming back." And then Ruth bent forward and kissed him on the cheek leaving twin petals of lip-gloss.

"Bye," Thomas said, all warm and fuzzy.

"Don't forget your care package. I'm just dying too see how you look tomorrow. You promise you will wear them won't you."

"I promise," Thomas vowed solemnly.

The funny thing was when Thomas got home all his mother said was that he looked different.

"Well rested," she said.

EACH MORNING BEFORE and after school was a battle. Thomas would kiss his mom goodbye and race to school ahead of everyone else and duck into the always empty Girls’ Room.

Once inside he'd fix his hair and don his gay apparel. And all too soon there were accessories–clip-on earrings, bracelets, necklaces, rings and chokers.

They didn't do a thing for Thomas but the way they made Ruth's eyes shine made him shine.

June's promise blossomed into July's bounty and burgeoned into August's…augustness?

"You know, Barbie," Ruth said, looking down at Thomas from her throne on the sofa.

What?" He paused in his latest project–the painting his mentor's toenails a saucy corral they'd found together at the mall.

There was a strange cast to Ruth's face–a mix of embarrassment, conspiracy and envy.

"You know, you've come a long way in a short summer."

"Do you really think so?"

"Not just in school either. You've gone from a shy tomboy to a…a…young lady."

"Ah, shucks," Thomas grinned, not at all sure where all this buttering up was leading to.

"Happy…" She smudged her nose, mouth and everything into just about the cutest thing Thomas had ever seen, while she fished about for what it was exactly that she wanted to wish him happiness with. "Whatever!"

Ruth handed him a cardboard box that looked like it might hold a tie for someone's dad.

His excitement turned to something else when he opened it. Inside were a bra and matching panties both as pure as driven snow.

"I don't know what to say," Thomas stammered, not really knowing what to say.

"It's padded. Just enough so the guys know you're all gal and proud of it."

Over that summer Ruth and Thomas had grown just about as close as two girls could get. And there was no way Ruth could misread the look on her friend's face for anything other than complete and total embarrassment. What she got wrong, certainly through no fault of her own, was exactly why.

"Don't worry, Honey," she smiled sweetly. "You'll have your own in no time."

That surprised Thomas. It surprised him because somehow that made everything all better and he smiled back.

"Well, try it on. I can hardly wait to see how you look."

From that day on Thomas had one more embarrassment he had to don and doff alone in that Girls’ Room.

“BARBIE?” KEN ASKED.

It was afternoon on another perfect day with which Southern California is so blessed. Yet here the two students were immersed in the arcania of data structures.

But, they’d reasoned. If one has to prepare for a midterm the beach was as good a place as any.

Thomas lay on his tummy on the blanket, his head stuck into his book, totally wrapped up in what he was reading. Ken lay on his side his text opened but distracted by the way the wind played with Thomas’ golden locks, making the curly tendrils round his ears sparkle and dance.

Ken was very close to the smaller boy their bodies almost touching.

"Barbie?"

“Mmm?” Thomas answered, his voice rising sweetly.

“Your back is getting kind of red.”

“Darn, I was afraid of that, I burn so¾” Thomas felt something marvelous¾cool and healing.

Against the flat of his back, between the bottom of his belly shirt and the waist of his cutoffs he felt a touch as soft as angels.

“A little sunscreen will do the trick,” Ken said. Thomas felt the warm glow of the other boy’s care¾brighter than the afternoon sun¾without needing to see it.

Thomas made a pillow of his arms and buried his face in it, savoring the attention.

“You’re in love with Ruth, aren't you?”

Thomas stiffened. “I¾”

“Don’t bother denying it. All the guys know you’re gaga over her. You light up like a Roman Candle whenever she’s near.”

Thomas thought about lying but he couldn’t for some reason¾not to Ken.

“Does it bother you?”

“That you’re gay?”

That confused Thomas at first. But when he considered it, he decided he had to agree. At least in Ken’s eyes, he was gay. “Lesbian. Girls who like other girls are lesbians.”

“Are you bi maybe?”

“No way! I only like girls.”

“So you and me we’re just…what…classmates?”

The thought of that¾of them being no more than that¾bothered Thomas though he didn’t know why. “No. We’re more than that¾friends¾best friends.”

“It’s just that…well…it’s just such a darn waste.”

Thomas didn’t follow that one at all.

“I mean someone as smart and sexy as you are.”

Thomas beamed, then thought better of it.

“You haven’t told her have you?”

“No… Not yet.”

“She's not, you know¾a lesbian¾I mean.”

There was something odd in Ken’s voice. When Thomas turned he saw something unexpected in Ken’s handsome face¾a shared sadness.

Thomas sighed. “I know it’s crazy. But more than anything I want hers to be my first kiss.

“You’re a virgin!”

“Ken!” Thomas thought of getting up and leaving, but he just couldn’t seem to muster the outrage.

“So, how do you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you don’t like boys? You know, boys aren’t so bad. In fact, we can be pretty nice sometimes¾with the right girl.

“I know that.”

“So maybe you should give me¾I mean us¾a chance.”

“I don’t¾”

“You don’t have to decide now. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Thomas’ answer surprised him, “Okay.”

"FINAL EXAM," THOSE two dreadful words strike fear in the minds and hearts of anyone who has every suffered or triumphed through kindergarten and beyond. The exam part is okay–everyone accepts and hates an exam. It's a fact of life, like say a trip to your dentist. The scary part is the final. Final as in "here to eternity" and "surrender all hope."

Thomas despite his confidence and vow at the outset of his female impersonation had proven only that he was a likeable enough kid who loved computers.

Most of the blame fell on the fact that he'd been a slipshod student for so long. He'd work hard and done well that summer but he still had a ways to go.

Worst, he'd been double-crossed. Midway through, he'd kind of eased off the gas–having way too much fun and satisfied with a nice solid C. He learned almost too late that his course was being graded like a graduate class. To pass you needed at least a B or better.

His only hope—acing the final.

"Ruth?" Thomas said for the third time. He lay on his stomach on her shag rug; an island surrounded by a choppy sea of dog-eared college texts.

"Sorry." She managed a worried little smile. "Listen Barbie, it's late. Give it a rest. Trust me, you're ready for tomorrow's final."

"I guess you're right," he said wearily, shutting his book.

"Good. Can we talk? I mean, girl to girl."

"Sure." He perked right up and gazed up at her on the sofa, giving Ruth his rapt attention. If there was one thing he loved it was a girl-to-girl with his dream girl.

"I have these feeling for someone–good feelings–but–well–there are problems."

Thomas swallowed hard. Please let her know? he prayed. Let her know how much I love her? "Well, I know that. In any deep and lasting relationship there are always problems."

"You are so sweet. Well, for one there's our age difference."

"Age? Age isn't all that important. What is, is how you feel for each other."

"Oh, there's no problem there. We're like soul mates."

"I know exactly what you mean. It's like the other knows what you're going to say before you even know what your going to say."

"Exactly," Ruth nodded in full out agreement. "But there's also this student teacher thing going on."

"Come on, you're both adults, right? I mean, it's not like we're in the army or anything. Is it?"

"I guess not. But–"

"Look, you're not going to let something as trivial as that get in the way of true love are you?"

"You're right, of course."

"Why don't you just tell him flat out?"

She shifted about on the sofa uncomfortable even just thinking about it. "I think he might be…might be…"

"Might be?"

"Gay."

Gay? Why would she think I'm gay? Thomas asked himself. Is it perhaps because I'm sitting here on her floor in saddle shoes, black pleated skirt, pink halter top and my frothy up-do looks like a nature habitat what with all the butterflies and ribbons flitting about it?

"Look," Thomas said, trying to convince them both. "Just because some guy is sensitive, has good fashion sense and doesn't jump the bones of anything in a skirt does not mean he is not gay!"

She cocked her head, wondering where that heart felt speech came from. "Cool your jets, Kiddo. I could live with that. But what if he just flat out doesn't want me. I'm not very good at rejection."

"And who is? We've all had our hearts broken. But it's worth it for that special someone. And true love."

Thomas pushed his skirt daintily between his knees and crossed them swami like. He stared intently into Ruth's eyes like a Svengali trying to will her to know that he already knew. "Has he said anything?"

"Oh my God, no!"

"Then how do you know?"

"Oh, it's in his eyes."

"Eyes–shmyeyes. He should say something."

"No. If he did I'd know he wasn't the man for me. No. I'm the one who definitely has to make the first move."

"Oh…" Thomas gulped down what he was about to blurt out. He decided to change his tact. "I'll be straight with you. I'm no expert on love, but believe me I do understand boys. I know, the guy's bonkers for you. And from what you've said I'm A-number-one convinced he's the one. Jeepers! You've got to say something–and soon–summer's almost over."

"Do you really think so?"

"I swear."

"Barbie," Ruth said in a throaty whisper that gave Thomas the chills. Her perfect face floated closer and closer to his. "I'd like to…"

"Like to?" Thomas stared cross-eyed at the two most exquisite lips in the whole world, lips he longed to touch with his own. It was too awesome. He couldn't blow it now, not when he was so incredibly close. He closed his eyes, willing his breath not to be ragged, his body not to tremble and his eyes to uncross.

Then he felt the gentle touch of two warm lips, lighter than the kiss of a butterfly's wings, alight on his fevered skin. They pressed against him, magic seeping from them and into him—perfume and summer and youth. He surrendered to the moment’s majesty.

Then it was over.

"Thank you," she said.

She'd kissed him smack dab in the center of his forehead. Ruth had kissed him like he was some favored niece.

He shook his head. He knew better. There was fire and passion under that proper kiss. And soon she'd reveal her true feelings and they'd be together forever.

WITH THE FATEFUL words, "You may now break the seal of your test with the eraser end of your No. 2 pencil," the battle was on.

Thomas scanned the answers of the questions first, then read through each of the questions carefully. Where he was confident he forged ahead, where he was doubtful he passed to return as time permitted.

Around him he heard the scritch-scratch of pencil to paper completely filling in the appropriate box and the rattle of pages being flipped. Nary was there the sound of a gum eraser.

He didn't panic. He ignored the tread of Professor McIntosh’s sandals up and down the aisle.

He stayed his course–marching as Thoreau did to his own drummer.

Ruth had coached him well.

"Barbie," the professor said at last, "Time's up, Honey."

Thomas looked around. He was last...again.

He surrendered his answer sheet, took a deep breathe and said, "Thanks."

Never again would Thomas know more unequivocally and definitively that his best just wasn't good enough.

"CLASS," RUTH SAID the morning of the final day. "It's been a great summer. I know I've learned a lot and had fun too. And I'd like to think you did as well. But I have a special announcement to make. I'd like you to meet someone who, over the summer, has grown very close to me. We started out teacher and student, we grew to be good friends but now it's love."

Then she smiled a smile that Thomas had only seen once before in his life but on someone else.

"Don't be shy, Honey."

With each word it seemed Thomas got less oxygen. Little sparkly thingies coiled round the edges of his vision.

She knows, he thought over and over. And she loves me right back!

Thomas placed his palms on the bench in front of him to steady himself so he could stand.

"Professor McIntosh."

Thomas hovered half off his seat as the professor ambled past him and stood beside his true love. Then he kissed her and placed a protective arm round her perfect shoulders.

"We're to be married next month," Ruth said. "And we owe it all to the only student to ace the final. Take a bow, Barbie."

Thomas stood in front of the class, deafened by their cheers and applause, in white sneakers, pink ankle socks and a just darling skirt and sweater set. Under theses he wore the matching bra and panties that Ruth had given him. His hair was brushed and pulled back in a ponytail with a pink ribbon. There was plum stain on his lips and baby-blue shadow on his eyelids and just a hint of blush on his cheeks.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE it," Thomas said to Ken after everyone had left. There was so much emotion churning down in his gut that it was all he could do to keep it from busting out. "I mean, Ruth and I were so close. And she didn't even tell me?"

"I can understand that. That someone could be so in love with someone else and that someone can't even see it."

"But now she'll…never…never…" Then the tears came in torrents, though for exactly what Thomas wasn't sure–anger, embarrassment, depression but mostly happiest for his Ruth, who was so obviously madly and deeply in love.

"It's okay, Barbie." Ken reached out and pulled the smaller boy to him, Thomas' face fitting perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder.

"My mom was right," he cried, "I'm a failure. How could I think anyone could ever love me? I'm dumb and boring."

Ken found it very hard to follow all of this, it being drowned in teardrops and soaked in sobs and sniffles. But he was a quick study, knew his part and played it well.

"Now, I'll never get my first real kiss."

"She was foolish not to notice the warm, intelligent and wonderful woman you are. I certainly didn't make that mistake."

"I…" Thomas said, his embarrassment mixed with something else.

Then Ken bent forward at the waist in slo-mo, his face coming into extreme close-up. There was something so awesome in that look that Thomas had to shut his eyes.

Then Ken's lips were on his, cooling a fire that he hadn't even known was there.

I can't believe It! a pesky little voice in his head whined. You're letting another boy kiss you!

Thomas opened his eyes when it was over, his breath slow and steady.

"Wow," Ken grinned. "That may be the first time a boy kissed you but believe you me it certainly won't be your last."

And it wasn't.

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