32--TV FICTION CLASSICS

BORN TO BE to his feet, throw the earrings at me, and shout his refusal to wear them or return to the beauty parlor. Just as quickly, a strange expression covered his face, and instead of defiance, he emitted a sigh of resignation and answered, "Yes Mother, thank you." Bob beamed at this mother/daughter bonding.

Chapter 13

The next morning, as the three of us shared coffee before Bob left for work, he announced, "Barbie, since my promotion is taking longer than I expected, I have enrolled you as a sophomore at Windor High. You start when school reconvenes after Christmas vacation."

Ted and I jerked to attention. By his tone, we both knew Bob was serious about Ted returning to high school as a teenage girl, and we wanted to find out the details.

"Todd Nero has agreed to help with your orientation," Bob stated. "Remember, you met him at his parent's party." "Oh yeah," Ted stammered. He wanted to protest or out right refuse, but he was afraid to confront Bob.

Silence reigned for nearly fifteen seconds until Bob continued, "There's a lot more to being a teenage girl than looking the part. You must learn a whole new way of talking, moving, and thinking. Young girls aren't just little women, they are immature, and they behave that way. They not only think differently than adults, they dress differently, and have their own language as well. You must learn these things very quickly, or you will face intense scrutiny by the other students."

"Uh...b. . .but, Dad! I w. . .went to Windor as...as a boy," Ted cried, mounting the strongest protest he dared. "They are sure to recognize me."

"That was three years ago," Bob smiled. "All your schoolmates are long gone. Surely, none of the teachers will expect one of their former male pupils to return as a sophomore, and especially not as a girl!"

Ted blushed a deep red and toyed with his skirt. "But how?" he stammered.

"How can you learn to project yourself as a girl?" Bob anticipated Ted's inquiry. "Good question. You certainly can't learn it from a book. I've given it a lot of thought, and I think I have a solution."

I hadn't thought Bob was serious when he told the Nero's that Barbie might be staying for school, but I could tell by his decisive posture that he was dead serious.

A DAUGHTER

SANDY THOMAS ADVERTISING -33

"Where do you find most teenage girls this time of year?" Bob asked, then answered his own question. "At shopping malls, of course! Shopping malls are a popular gathering place anyway, and they will be especially frenzied right after Christmas.”

"Shopping malls?" Ted mumbled, not knowing where Bob was going with this.

"Yes! Don't you see? You have to purchase a new wardrobe for school, so we can kill two birds with one stone. While you shop, you can observe the other girls without being obvious. You must absorb every action, every giggle, every pattern of speech, every style of dress! When you can go to the mall and act like any other giggling teenage girl, you'll be ready for school. Your new audio and video cassettes should also help in that regard. Use them often and pay close attention to what they teach."

Both Ted and I sat back, speechless at Bob's directive. "B...but that's impossible!" Ted stammered.

"It won't be easy, so you'll have to work at it," Bob concurred. "You just have to become absorbed in your new life, that's all."

Ted stammered, "I'll. . .try."

"Marvelous!" Bob beamed. "If you work hard, I know you'll succeed. Now, one more thing! As Barbie, you are too young to drive. So hand over your license." I swear, I have never seen anyone more dejected than Ted was when he handed his driver's license to Bob.

After Bob left, Ted and I sat and stared at each other. Finally, Ted stammered, "He can't be serious! I can't act like a teenage girl for real. I'm a Red Beret, for Christ's sake."

"You are a former man and a former Red Beret!" I corrected. "Now, you are a teenage girl. You know first hand how obstinate Bob can be, so I suggest you try very hard to please him. In the meantime, we should get ourselves together for your trip to the beauty parlor."

Fifteen minutes later, Ted entered my bedroom wearing a pair of jeans, a red turtle neck sweater, and no makeup. He was really worried about this public foray, but he hadn't taken care of himself lately, and he didn't look very feminine. "I. . .I'm scared, M. . .mom," he stammered. "The women at the beauty parlor will know I'm not a girl."

"If you go looking like that, you're probably right," I concurred. "You don't look very feminine, especially in those clothes."

"My clothes?" he asked.