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“I'm just watching the last of the news,” Joan's in the kitchen,” he went on.I tried to catch the sports report without making it obvious.“Hey, girls, come on in,” Joan called out from the dining room.Again I tried to catch the scores.“Harriet, you look very nice tonight,” Joan complimented.“Thank you,” I answered in my practiced soft voice. “And what you're making smells delicious.”“One of our mom's recipes,” she replied. The evening went very well. The meal was good, as was the conversation. Aside from Mark's initial glance at me when we first came in, he never missed a beat in seeing me as a woman. Not once in all of our conversations did he ever address me in the masculine. Mark even went so far as to push our chairs in for us. He was a perfect gentleman. The actions of both of them quickly put me at ease, and when Nancy gave her an approving smile, I know I had succeeded.“Ladies,” Mark began as he raised his wine glass, “To an enjoyable evening.”I had a big smile across my face. My skin seemed to be getting a little darker, too. My eyeschanged from hazel to brown, and my face got thinner with a longer,misshapen (probably broken) nose and a slightly pointy chin. I continuedshrinking, growing younger. In a half hour, the reflection in the mirrorshowed a skinny boy about twelve years old of obvious Mediterranean ancestryinstead of the middle-aged Swede I normally saw.I let out a whoop, surprised at my new voice. Whoever had worn the clotheslast hadn't quite finished going through puberty. My voice cracked a coupletimes. I remembered when I really was that age and how -- more than once --I'd been mistaken for my late mother when I answered the phone.I walked over to the bed and got dressed. I looked at my clock radio. Itwas about 2:15. I wouldn't be able to use the Medallion to change backuntil well after Midnight. I went into the living room, stretched out onthe sofa, and watched an afternoon of college football.About 6, I grew hungry. I didn't feel.
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