Preface

The morning sunlight streams through the curtains of a cozy suburban home as Cynthia, a spirited ten-year-old, stands in front of her mirror, finishing the final touches on her school uniform. She smooths out the pleats of her black-and-green jumper, tugs lightly at the cap sleeves of her crisp white blouse, and adjusts her white tights before slipping into her shiny Mary Jane shoes. Her cheeks flush with excitement as she beams at her reflection, a big smile lighting up her face.

Bounding down the stairs, Cynthia arrives in the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of breakfast fills the air. She plops into her seat at the table, her giggles punctuating the clink of cutlery. Her father, Tracy, dressed sharply in a navy business suit with a vibrant red tie, white button-down shirt, and polished black shoes, sips his coffee, observing her with a raised eyebrow.

"What's got you in such a good mood this morning, kiddo?" Tracy asks, a playful smirk on his face.

Cynthia only giggles louder, shaking her head. "It's a secret!" she teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she finishes her breakfast.

After a final glance at his watch, Tracy sets down his mug and stands. "Alright, let's get going," he says. Cynthia grabs her backpack and follows him out the door, her bubbly demeanor refusing to wane.

Chapter 1

Tracy opens the car door for her, and Cynthia hops into the back seat, humming a cheerful tune. Sliding into the driver's seat, Tracy adjusts the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of his daughter grinning ear to ear.

"You sure you're not going to spill the beans?" he asks as he starts the car, his tone playful yet curious.

"Not yet!" Cynthia replies, clutching her backpack tightly, her excitement almost palpable.

The car pulls out of the driveway, the morning sun reflecting off the glossy hood. As they drive through the neighborhood, the sound of Cynthia's giggles fills the car, leaving Tracy shaking his head with a bemused smile, still wondering what has her so delighted. The scene closes with the car merging into traffic.

Looking at the traffic, Tracy didn't notice as Cynthia reached into her backpack and pulled out a shiny, yellow orb. She grasped it in her right hand. She closed her eyes tightly and activated the orb. A moment later, she wasn't sitting in the back seat anymore, she was sitting in the driver's seat. her hands on the wheel. The controls of the car adjusted for her size. She isn't wearing her green and black jumper anymore. She is dressed in her father's navy business suit.

At the same time, Tracy lost focus for a second. He didn't feel confident at the wheel of his car as if he hadn't ever driven a car before. Fear welled up inside of him for a second. Caught completely by surprise, he was transported into the back seat. Although he was still an adult man, he was wearing Cynthia's green and black school uniform. It had been adjusted to accommodate his large frame.

"What the hell!" he yelled as he noticed how he was dressed. His first reaction was to jam on the break, but he wasn't in the front seat driving, he was in the back seat.

"Is that any way for a young lady to talk?" Cynthia asked.

Tracy saw Cynthia in front of him driving the car.

"STOP! pull over!"

"I won't. You don't want to be late to school."

"Late to school?"

"Yes, Mrs. Thomlinson expects all her students to be in their seats promptly at 8:50."

Tracy knew Mrs. Thomlinson. he had met Cynthia's teacher at parent-teacher night But he seemed to know her better than he should. He could remember spending mayn days in her class. He knew which was his room. Which seat was his as well as most of the students in the class, especially the girls.

"What is going on here?"

"I'm driving you to school, silly."

"I don't go to school."

"Of course you do."

"You have to pull over. What if someone sees you driving a car?"

"It's fine. No one thinks anything is wrong. When you get to school, they won't think anything is wrong there either."

"I'm not in the fourth grade."

"Yes, you are. You've been there since September."

Tracy didn't know what to do. He couldn't grab Cynthia. She was driving and he was in the back seat. He couldn't get out of the car, the car was moving. Besides, he was dressed like a little girl. His hands reach for his hair. He discovered that he even had bows in his hair. He looked down at himself for a second time. He saw the jumper he was wearing and the blouse underneath. He saw the tights on his legs and the shoes on his feet. He didn't think about whether he was wearing panties. Even his fingernails were painted with pink nail polish.

Tracy slouched in the back seat of the car, tapping his fingers against his knee in rhythmic annoyance. Dressed in a school uniform, he felt trapped. The car's soft hum and the smell of the floral air freshener did little to comfort him.

"I don't want to go to school," he declared, crossing his arms defiantly. "I should be the one driving!" In his mind, he tried to picture himself behind the steering wheel, his hands confidently gripping the leather. He could almost imagine weaving through traffic. But he couldn't quite picture it. All those memories had been washed out of his head and into Cynthia's.

Cynthia, an ever-patient presence in the front seat, glanced back at Tracy with amusement. "Oh, Daddy, you're way too young to drive," she chuckled, her eyes twinkling in the rearview mirror. "Besides, you need to go to school. That's where you learn all the important things!"

"But I already know everything I need to know about driving! I've been driving for..." Tracy trailed off as he fought to remember, his cheeks puffing out in indignation. "I know the gas pedal makes it go---and the brake makes it stop! You just have to be careful and not hit the other cars. It's easy!"

Cynthia smiled, but it was a knowing smile, one that hinted at the wisdom of experience. "Well, driving is a bit more complicated than that, Tracy. Would you like to test your knowledge? Let's see how much you really know."

Tracy straightened up a bit. "Okay, fine! Ask me anything!"

Cynthia thought for a moment, then posed her first question. "What do you do when you come to a traffic light?"

"Um... if it's green, you go!" Tracy replied, his confidence unwavering.

"And what about red?" Cynthia pressed further.

Tracy hesitated for a moment. "You... stop?"

"Good! Now, what if there's a yellow light?"

Tracy frowned, deep in thought. "Uh..." he stammered. "You... like... hurry up and go?"

"Not quite," Cynthia said gently. "A yellow light means you should slow down and prepare to stop. It's a warning that the light is about to change. You have to pay attention to the colors, okay?"

Tracy nodded, though he felt his confidence waver. "I knew that," he mumbled.

"Okay, next question," Cynthia said, her tone upbeat. "What's the right way to handle a four-way stop?"

Tracy's brow furrowed as he struggled to formulate an answer. "Um... I don't really know...?"

"It's okay!" Cynthia reassured him. "At a four-way stop, the first car to arrive has the right of way. And if two cars arrive at the same time, the car on the right goes first. It's all about being safe and fair to everyone on the road."