This choice: she knows and told her what and why this happend • Go Back...Chapter #6she knows and told her what and why this happend by: Unknown Your mother looks down at you with a firm, steely gaze. "Miles Johnson, you have been nothing but trouble since you hit puberty. You never clean up around the house, you never help do the dishes or any other chores, your grades have been slipping at school, and all you do is play videogames and sneak off with your friends to smoke dope - and don't think I don't know." She sighs and shakes her head. "I know things have been difficult since your father died, which is why I tolerated it to an extent - thinking you'd get over it. Instead, they've become habbits. And that's as much my fault, being your parent - as it is yours."
You sit there flabbergasted. What did any of this have to do with you waking up as a girl? This is an old argument. This had nothing to do with it. Was it some medical condition? Is this a wierd dream?
"I know what your thinking. We've had this argument before. Well, I'm done having it. Its not fair to your sister to move, and neither would it be fair to me - I like my job. But if you keep in your current social circle, your going to end up as a terrible person with a hard life, and make the rest of us miserable. I'm done lecturing you, I'm done grounding you, I'm done even arguing with you. So, I've used Gran Gran's old magic - yes, we are witches - and have cast a spell on you."
This doesn't make any sense. "Wait, magic is real?" you ask. "Why is Dad dead then?"
Your mother simply frowns at you. "Thought you'd be more attentive by now. Yes, dear - magic is real. No, it couldn't save the life of your father.. Its another form of science. Using principles not understood by the world at large, but not exactly supernatural, either. It couldn't save your father in the traditional sense. I wish it could. What it can do, is save you."
the posters of boy bands, the pink bookshelf filled with Nancy Drew novels, romance novels, and assorted murder mysteries. The pink curtains, pink beadspread, and the large, elaborate vanity with a pair of decorative pointe shoes handing from it. The room was emaculately clean, perfectly organized...and completely, utterly girly. There was nothing about it that could even pass for tomboy; it was the room of a perfectly feminine girly girl. You could even discern a few things about her. She liked boys; but either didn't have a boyfriend, or wasn't obsessive enough about him to have a picture. She liked classic movies (there was an Audrey Hepburn movie poster), and was into dance. She was mildly conservative, or at least traditional, and a bit of a neat freak. She was probably popular, but you didn't see any cheerleading paraphernalia.
"Mom, what does any of this have to do with our problems?" you ask. "Turning me into a girl isn't going to solve anything. I'm still me. I'm still going to hang out with my friends. If you think I'm going to dress and act like some sort of girly-girl, you can think again."
Your mother shakes her head. "Your old friends won't remember ever having known you. They'll still feel...fondness for you, of a sort." She smirks deeply, in a way that makes you slightly uneasy. "The magic can't take away the fact that they like you...but it can change how and why they like you, and whether or not they've ever actually spoken to you before. I think you'll find getting together with them is not only more difficult, but less desirable then what you might expect."
"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask. Your not liking where this is headed.
"It means, my daughter - that they all have crushes on you, but have never actually spoken to you. You move in different social circles. You absolutely are a girly-girl, and the thought of smoking weed or skipping school, let alone a messy room, is going to feel very repugnant to you. It'll be amusing if you get far enough to actually try it. I can't stop you - but I'd love to see you try. Take my word for it, buckaroo. Your days with them are over. And you won't even enjoy being near them."
Your mouth hangs slightly open. "This is outrageous! What gives you the right to make my life choices for me?" For the first time, you notice your voice is soft and melodic, almost lyrical. You briefly wonder why you didn't swear, and decide to do it, just to prove your point. "Fiddlesticks!" you say, pouting in her direction.
You frown. Fiddlesticks? Wait a second. "Gee Willikers!" you say, frowning again in an even deeper pout. "Holy Cow! I can't swear. What did you do to me, mommy?" Wait, mommy? Your a 16 year old boy. You certainly don't refer to your mother as mommy.
Your mother beams. "See, dear? I think you'll find the magic -can- influence your life choices. I can't completely control your actions, I can't erase your free will - but I can certainly swap around the roadsigns and give you another map. You'll find you know very little about videogames now - or at least, will have a hard time playing them. However, you'll be pleasantly surprised at how much better you are at talking to girls."
This was not how you wanted to get better at talking to girls.
"Alright, what now?" you say. Clearly, she's a few steps ahead of you.
"Now, she says, you..."
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