Preface

I could feel the weight of her eyes on me, accusatory and hurt all at once. Carly’s voice trembled when she finally spoke, her words slicing through the heavy silence.

"Are you cheating on me, Scottie?"

My stomach clenched. I wanted to deny it, to shout that I was innocent, that I’d never do such a thing. But the truth hung in my throat, stubborn and unyielding.

I shook my head desperately. "No, Carly. I swear, I haven't. I haven't done anything."

She didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes---the doubt, the pain, the betrayal. I clung to my denial, trying to convince not just her, but myself.

Hours passed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing her, that everything we’d built was slipping through my fingers. I thought about leaving, about escaping the ache and suspicion.

Finally, I looked at her, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think I should leave."

Her eyes widened, and she stepped back, her voice sharp and clear. "Leave to be with her? I don’t think so."

The words hit me harder than I expected. Not just the denial, but the realization that no matter what I said, she didn’t believe me.

"I don't know who you are. Soon, no one else will either."

"What?"

"I'm changing your apparent age."

"What does that mean?"

"From now on, everyone will see you as a twelve-year-old."

"I'm leaving."

"Do you really want to run away from home?"

I had to get out of there. I grabbed my keys and headed to my car.

"Remember, everyone sees you are a twelve-year-old!" she shouted.

Chapter 1

In the driveway, I slid behind the wheel, clutching the steering column with determination. The engine purred---I’d done it before. I didn't feel twelve, I felt my true age. Carly was bluffing; she couldn't make everyone think I was a child. I backed out slowly. I felt free. Now that the truth was out, I didn't have to hide. I could be with my girlfriend. That was where I wanted to be.

It was exhilarating: the world rushing past, the hum of the car, the sun on my face. I imagined I was taking control of my life. But with every block, doubt crept in. I saw my wife cause odd things to happen. She did have some sort of magical power. But to make everyone think I was a little boy? She wasn't that powerful. I should’ve known better than to feel safe behind the wheel.

When the police sirens broke the spell, my heart slammed. I thought it was a coincidence. It was just a speeding ticket or made an illegal turn or something. Two officers stood beside the window, arms folded. Their voices were serious but even-toned.

“Mind telling us what’s going on here?” one asked.

"Nothing, officer," I said.

"You know you aren't old enough to drive?"

"I am."

They exchanged glances. One officer sighed and said, “Stop kidding around. You need to understand how serious this is.” They gave me that look---stern, disappointed. They lectured me on safety, laws, and how reckless I’d been. I stared ahead, cheeks burning.

I knew I shouldn't argue. If I told them the truth, they wouldn't believe me. If I pushed too hard, I would get in trouble. Not with the police, but with my wife later. She was more powerful than I thought.

Then they drove me home. In the back seat, I kept quiet.

My wife opened the door before we even got to the driveway. She looked worried, her eyes wide, but firm. She was putting on quite a performance for the sake of the policemen. The officer explained everything: how I took the car, how dangerous it was, and how, under no circumstances, a twelve-year-old was allowed to drive.

My wife nodded seriously. “She will be punished. It’ll never happen again.” She hugged me tight, then turned to the officers. “Thank you. You did the right thing.”

I watched from inside the house as they left. I felt chastened, like I’d tested my limits and lost.

"I told them you will be punished," my wife told me. "You will be. You're not twelve anymore...you are eleven...and you are a girl."

Chapter 2

I was just sitting in the car, kicking my sneakers together and half-listening to the radio, when my wife said it.

“We’re going to get you a training bra today,” she said like it was just another thing to cross off the grocery list.

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You’re eleven,” she said, like that explained everything. “It’s time.”

“No, it’s not,” I told her, trying not to sound too panicked. I crossed my arms and stared out the window. “I don’t even need one.”

“It’s not about needing one,” she said, pulling into the parking lot. “It’s called training for a reason.”

I didn’t say anything after that because I knew it wouldn’t help. Once my wife got an idea in her head, that was it. I tugged down my T-shirt and tried to make myself look flatter, even though there wasn’t anything to flatten. Jeans, sneakers, T-shirt---perfectly normal kid outfit. Nothing about me screamed “bra.”

We walked into the store, and right away my wife made a beeline for the girls' section. I tried to lag behind, but she reached back and lightly pushed me forward. “Come on, Scottie. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a huge deal.

A smiling woman with a name tag that said Denise came over. She had a big, bouncy ponytail and bright pink lipstick. “Can I help you ladies today?”

“Yes,” my wife said. “My daughter is eleven, and we’re here to get her her first training bra.”

Denise smiled even wider. “Aww, a big girl! First bra day, how exciting!”

I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.