Dinner ended around quarter after six; we all pitched in to clear the table, and the family split into a couple different groups. Mrs. Greenfield and Angie started in on the dishes, while the men retired to the living room and sat down with tapes of some strange backwoods Canadian sketch comedy. I spent a long while wondering what I was supposed to do, which group I belonged in...

I offered to help with the dishes out of a need to make myself useful, but Tammy's mother wouldn't hear of a guest doing the work. That was just as well, since I didn't know what water (or soap, grease, or food matter) would do to my inner workings; and being around Angie made me feel awkward and confused. Here I was, pretending to be a woman, with people seeing me as a woman, and some of my friends all too eager for me to identify as a woman - and this perfectly nice lady was unwittingly confronting me with a clear reminder that I really wasn't one, whatever I was...

...Was that bad? I didn't want to be a woman, right? And I certainly had no desire to go through that, or deal with any of the gross, painful biological realities that came with the territory...so why did it bother me to be reminded that I couldn't? My mechanisms surged and slowed as I turned it over in my mind. I remembered what I'd said to Emma, about not knowing where I could ever belong like this...

"Hey," said Rhoda, interrupting my thoughts, "c'mon upstairs; I gotta show you what I've been working on." She was talking to Tammy, but then she turned to me. "You too. C'mon!"

I didn't know what she meant, but I had no real reason to decline; even if it wasn't interesting to me, it beat standing around brooding over things I didn't understand...

"Hey, wait," I said as we left the kitchen, "upstairs...?"

We came to the foot of the stairs a moment later, and Tammy chuckled. "Uh-huh. We got this donated from the Rotary years ago, when they moved to their new building. Still works."

An old-timey lift ran up the stairway: the kind you see in nursing homes, with a rail track running up the wall and a chair mounted to it. It probably dated from the '50s, and was obviously a retrofit. The wall must've been torn up and reinforced - it was painted drywall, not the lath-and-plaster in the rest of the house - and the stairs had definitely been rebuilt. But it looked well-maintained, and Tammy didn't hesitate to transfer herself to the little seat and switch it on.

We followed behind as it slowly rattled its way up the staircase. Tammy was considerably longer than she used to be, and the staircase was only so wide, so she had to pull her tail up to keep it from dragging against the steps or the opposite wall; she ended up having her sister hold it for her, like she was carrying her train. Rhoda was visibly awed by it, and kept almost giving in and stroking her sister's mottled golden scales.

"Do you use this a lot?" I asked, listening to the hum and rattle of the mechanism against the chatter of my own inner workings. It probably went slow for safety's sake, but it felt like it was taking forever...

Tammy shrugged. "Eh, yes and no? My room and all the essentials are on the ground floor, but it was nice that I could go up to Rhoda's or the boys' room when we were growing up. Before we got it, she'd have to bring her toys and dolls downstairs if she wanted to play with me."

Rhoda laughed. "Tell you what, though, I got real good at carrying stuff. That's a life skill right there."

"Definitely with your hobbies," Tammy chuckled. "The usual loadout's gotta weigh like half of what you do." The lift came to a stop; she twitched a pectoral fin away from the sharp fronds of a potted palm on the landing, and grabbed a foldaway wheelchair standing nearby. She opened it up and lunged forward onto the armrests, lifting herself with her tail and pivoting into the chair, frowning as it creaked under her weight. "Huh, I'm not sure this thing's gonna cut it anymore."

"Oh, I guess you're kinda heavier now, aren't you?" Rhoda said. "I never thought of that."

"Neither did I," Tammy replied. "S-uh, Sue explained it to me after the incident. Had to spend like two days reworking my dietary plan 'cause of it."

Rhoda eyed me curiously. "Oh? You study this stuff? Cool. Guess it came in handy, huh?"

"It's not really-" I started, embarassed, but Tammy cut me off. "Yeah, she's been a big help," she said, giving me a wry, knowing smile. "Honest to God, I didn't even know how I was supposed to go to the bathroom like this, but she was able to tell me - before it was too late. Helped me get the hang of breathing underwater, too."

"Omigod, that's a thing you can do now, isn't it!?" her sister said excitedly. "What's it like?"

She shrugged. "It was freaky at first, getting past the mental block, but it's breathing; I just kinda forget about it, except I have to empty my 'windpipe' when I get out of the water, or I end up exhaling it into my clothes."

Rhoda had a good laugh over that, then ushered us into her room. It was the front room of the upstairs, overlooking the porch, and it was huge - at least half the width of the house, and around 14' on the shorter axis. It was probably the original master bedroom; I wondered what a teenager was doing with a space like this to herself, but then I stopped and took it in.

The place was decked out with enough armor and weapons to supply a dozen medieval mercenaries, if they weren't too picky about coordinating their outfits. A bed and nightstand were tucked away in one corner, with a walk-in closet nearby, but the rest of the room was filled with shelves, racks, and stands holding all manner of gear, with a workbench in the center; pieces of metal, fabric, and leather were spread across it, plus a plethora of tools. Was she into live-action roleplay, then? She'd seemed so "average teenage girl" up 'til now; well, books and covers...

She eagerly showed Tammy various current and newly-completed projects; I glanced around the room while she went on about each of them. I'd known people in the SCA crowd before, but this looked (to my admittedly inexpert eye) less historical and more just historically-inspired fantasy mishmash. Still, the artistry and craftsmanship on display were impressive for a sixteen-year-old.

I felt intimidated again; even the baby of the family was more together than me. Hell, when I was her age, I mostly holed up in my room reading, listening to music, and trying not to think about that point in life where you're supposed to spin yourself a cocoon and magically transform into a functioning adult. Other people had interests, hobbies, passions, drive; I had some raw ability, but no idea what I was supposed to do with it...

"Here," Rhoda said, interrupting my thoughts and handing me a stick. I took it by reflex and was about to ask her why when I realized there was a blade on the end. "Uh, wha...?" I said, confused.

"Mmm," she said, giving me a look-over, "hmm. Yeah, yeah, I think that'll work."

"No, really," I said, cautiously hefting the spear,* "what, uh...what is this?" I examined the sharp bit; I couldn't tell by looking how sharp it was, but should we really be playing around with this...?

* (Fauchard? Glaive? Glaive-guisarme?)

Rhoda grinned. "I dunno yet, I'm still piecing it together in my head. Um, let's see, here." She handed me a scarf with a red-and-gold geometric pattern woven into it. "Now, where'd I leave the crossbow...?"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

I glanced at Tammy, but she only gave me a grin in response. Was it normal in their family to drag guests into spontaneous LARP-ing or whatever we were doing here? It struck me that, as accomplished and successful as they apparently were, Tammy's family were all at least a bit, um, weird. I hadn't thought of those as going together, but here we were...

Well, I can't say I hate this, at least, I thought, even if I didn't grasp the point. She seems like a nice kid; as long as she doesn't end up going after me with that, uh, that axe there, I guess I can humor her. Still, I brought the polearm down and ran my finger over the blade. Good, it was dull, though it'd still hurt to get jabbed with; and I wasn't sure how much that armor she was holding would help.

"Mm, headcanoning here," she said, looking it over. She glanced at my key, shook her head, and set it back on the stand, intensely lost in thought. "I'm picturing you as an ingenious dwarven construct, created to guard a treasu-no, a sacred temple...no, no, I don't think of them as religious types..."

"A library?" Tammy suggested, as her sister picked out another piece of armor. She was getting that mischievous twinkle in her eye that she'd had at dinner, and it still surprised me. I'd never seen this side of her at college; did they just bring this out in each other?

Rhoda brightened, as she added the cuirass to the growing pile of things I had to hold onto. "Yeah, that's it! A library, a shrine to knowledge. But the whole race disappears in a mysterious cataclysm, leaving you alone for millennia, charged to watch over this forgotten place, until, um...a disaster destroys the library. Yeah...just swallowed into the earth, leaving you as their sole legacy, until, uh..."

"...until something starts to change inside you," Tammy interjected, giving me an impish smile. "Wandering without purpose in a world that's forgotten you, the sights you see and people you meet become your own memories, and you become more than a mere functionary, developing a real sense of self. Your old purpose fulfilled, you travel the world seeking to understand who you really are, and find a purpose of your own..."

"Oh, that's brilliant, sis," Rhoda grinned, handing me a piece of folded fabric; I was too distracted to take much note of it. Tammy had me flustered; I knew that was a dig at my issues, but I didn't understand why she went there. Until now, she'd been the tactful one, the one stepping in to keep Emma from badgering me; was it this new side to her?

But as much as it confused and irked me, I felt curiously drawn in by the story the sisters had conjured up for me. I found the idea of a mysterious girl, lost and alone in a world that had no fixed place for her, learning to survive and grow, finding companions and making her own place in the world, to be strangely resonant, and I could picture her in my head, and...and...

...And something was pricking at my pantleg. I looked down to see a large Thai cat industriously clawing at my jeans; I tried to shoo it off, but my arms were too full of miscellany and I didn't want to kick too hard lest I lose my balance. Thankfully, Tammy noticed. "Sekhmet!" she hissed, brandishing her caudal fin like a broom. "Get off her! Go on, git!"

Sekhmet skittered out of range, back arched and tail puffed, took a moment to regain her composure, and did her best to convey in typical feline manner that, fine, she didn't really want to do that anyway, and if we were going to be like that about it, I could just shred my own pants. She slunk over to the bed, leapt up, and curled up in the blankets, eyeing us from time to time as she weighed the risks of going after the giant fish that had invaded her territory.

"Sorry," Tammy said. "I wish I could say that she's not usually like that, but, well, that's Sekhmet."

"'Salright," I said. Really, I was just glad she got my pants and not the fabric on my leg; the jeans I could toss, if they got too mangled, but what if my "skin" got a snag in it? I had no idea how you'd fix that, or if it'd get worse if you didn't...it was cosmetic, anyway, but it was still part of my body right now; whether I liked this or not, I'd much rather be an intact clockwork doll-thing...

Before I could get lost in wondering whether my body could repair itself or how that would even work, Rhoda took me by the arm and led me over to the mirror on the closet door. "Alright," she said, "let's try this out. C'mon!"

It took me a moment to realize what she meant. I glanced uneasily over at Tammy, who just shrugged. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, Sue," she said. "Up to you."

It shouldn't have taken me this long to realize that putting on a full costume would involve taking off my clothes, but I'd been pretty distracted. Tammy and Emma were one thing, but the thought of stripping in front of Tammy's little sister felt weird and awkward to me. Okay, I wouldn't have to get completely naked, but...

But then, Rhoda didn't seem bothered; I wondered if she knew. Was she, like Tammy and Emma, attuned to whatever secret nuances of feminine body language supposedly gave me away? Or had that changed by now? Was I passing as "one of the girls" in her mind? Did I want to be...? Would it be creepy and weird if I was? If the point of this ruse was to make things less awkward for others, was it still the bad kind of deception, or was it the same kind of "comfortable lie" as so many other things in society...?

"Aw, come on, Susan!" she cajoled. "It'll be fun..."

Hesitantly, I undressed. I did feel awkward, but she was okay with it and expecting it of me, and that was about as much reason as I ever had to do something. Down to my briefs and cami, I took the bundle of cloth and unfolded it to find a sort of long body-wrap. I felt a bit self-conscious, like I had with Emma's outfit, but it was less of a dress and more a West African or ancient Middle Eastern wrapped skirt thing - those were unisex, right...?

After a bit of fumbling around trying to figure out how to put it on, Rhoda took over, wrapping it over my bust and under my key, then around my torso, cinching it tight around my waist and hips and letting the lower folds hang looser. Once this was in place, she took something off the workbench. "Tammy told me to make this, 'just in case,'" she said with a grin. "Wouldn't tell me why."

It was a linen blouse with a slit up the back and cords to lace it up with. I felt hesitant, but it wasn't too overtly feminine, just a bit billowy. After that came the cuirass, made of boiled leather, padded inside and reinforced with metal bands; conveniently, the pieces down the back left a gap for my key. How much of this had Tammy planned - and why? But Rhoda was already setting something on my head, doing something with my face, turning me to the mirror...

I saw a woman there. A mysterious figure, with a quiet, inquisitive look, one eye hidden behind her silver hair, her delicate frame concealed under an armored shell. She held a spear out, as if to keep the world at bay - but something in her deep purple eyes cried out for contact, for companionship, after so many ages of being alone; for some place, in a vast and uncaring world, where she could truly belong... Dazed, I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. Why was I getting so worked up over this? Over a...a costume?

I looked it over. It was a shameless jumble of styles - she'd also given me the helmet version of those Asian hats, which just made me think of Lucky - but it was oddly charming; the kind of smorgasbord you get in RPGs, piece by piece, as you score a +5 Barbarian Left Pauldron of Smiting or whatever. (Or probably, in Rhoda's LARPer headspace, what "I" acquired over years of wandering.) And the elements were nice, even if they clashed; the subtle geometric patterns and colors of the skirt, the lacquer finish on the helmet...but it was just a costume, right?

It's what you wear to pretend to be something you're not. That's what I'd said to Emma - but how much of me was a costume? How many layers had I wrapped myself in, trying to be what people expected, pursuing goals that weren't mine, looking for direction from someone else because I had no compass of my own...? I suddenly couldn't stop thinking about it. And now I was pretending to be someone else entirely, dressed up as yet another character...was there even a real me in there, under all the make-believe, or was it just hollow inside? If there was nothing underneath, did it even matter how the outermost wrapping was shaped-

Click! The sound of a cell-phone making a camera-shutter noise broke off my train of thought. I whirled around, and Rhoda yelped and leapt out of the way of the spear, which I'd forgotten about. I yanked it back to my chest with a startled "OmigodI'msorry-!" whereupon it clanged against the helmet and set things rattling in my head.

Tammy laughed. "That's what you get for sneaking pics, sis. Lucky you didn't give her one of the heavy weapons."

"It's not 'sneaking!'" she protested. "I mean, everyone takes photos with costume stuff. That's 1000% normal."

"Uh-huh," Tammy said dryly. "Don't think I've forgotten the episode with my prom dress."

"That wasn't-!"

They continued bickering amiably, but I was distracted by how surprisingly not embarrassed I was over that. I'd felt awkward and self-conscious being seen in the outfit Emma picked out for me, but this, not so much. Was it that this was far enough removed from daily life at the college that it somehow didn't "count?" Or did her choices cross some mental line I'd never had to map out before? Was it that her express intent was to make me experience something overtly "feminine?" Or...was I just getting used to this, after being this and being seen as this for this long? The thought made me uneasy, and I wasn't sure it was the case, but I really didn't know...