Drew put her new card in with the rest of the stuff in the bag and put the bag away in her trunk, drove down to the mall, parked in her usual place, and did a bit of shopping and lots of thinking. She really needed to think, and her best thinking time outside of the house was while she was by herself, which usually meant she was shopping at the mall.

Julian truly was a genius with hair. No wonder there were so many waiting in line at the salon. She knew that she looked great before, and had gotten a lot of attention at school for it, especially from the boys, but she was somehow able to detach herself from it all. But now, without the wig, and with the miracle Julian had wrought on her ragged mop, she felt she couldn't anymore.

She tried to figure it out. And as she shopped and thought, all she could come up with was that, while she was wearing the wig, she was able to subconsciously rationalize that what people were seeing wasn't really her but a creation - a facade, a mask that she hid behind, which was symbolized by the wig. But that crutch - the wig - was gone now. It was all her now. And she therefore could not detach her inside from her outside anymore. Now, more than ever before, "Andrea Nance" was really her now. And, seeing her reflection in the shop windows, she knew Andrea Nance was also one heckuva babe.

She noticed that she seemed to be gravitating towards stores that had plate-glass fronts, or stores that had mirrors in their front displays. She realized that it was so that she could see her reflection. With all of the outfits she had worn, with all her affectations, never in all that time did she think her Drew persona was pretty per se, except in a distant, intellectual way. But this new babe... It was visceral. Also, over the months as Drew, she never had any... moments when her little... guy-friend would rise and look for attention, except perhaps a few times when she was with Iola, and then only occasionally. But this time, she got it bad and it was for the blonde with the short hair now reflected in the display window. Boy, was she ever in trouble.

But, as she had learned, shopping was the universal antidote for everything, and as she shopped, her arousal went away... mostly... although she still occasionally sneaked looks down the front of her saucy skirt, checking if there were any telltale bumps. What a time to start getting erections.

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In Drew's new life, there were only a few things that she spent time on - hanging with her new best friends, school, studying, hanging around in the house, and shopping. She was new to things, so she didn't really have a lot to do. Yet. But it did help her insofar as school was concerned. She had finally started climbing the honors list, or would have if she wasn't a late transferee to her new school. Still, her academic standing was so much better than her old self in her old school. At least she wasn't considered an underachiever anymore.

But other than school stuff, she didn't really have much to do, except, perhaps, for shopping.

The mall was a familiar place by now, and she had accumulated a set of favorite shops. The salesgirls in these shops had all gotten to know her, and had learned to point out their latest items every time she came in, and Drew, always anxious to keep her fashion sense sharp and up-to-date, would usually try things on and make a purchase or two. This was especially important in Staten Island where the people's styles and behavior tended to be more brash and less... mainstream than what she was used to.

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Of course, her "special needs" made her gravitate toward specific styles for bottoms. With tops, Drew mostly tried to play the field, but her special choices of bottoms would always affect her total ensemble.

With an eye to camouflaging her "extra parts" below the waistline, she preferred pants and bottoms with folds, pleats or ruching, especially in front. She also liked bright and psychedelic patterns, which helped her camouflage... things. She explained to her dad that it was like the camo colors soldiers wear to hide themselves in plain sight. And she definitely had stuff to hide.

There were specific styles that she was partial to, all to aid in her camouflage. It was largely because she was seen wearing these styles that certain eighties and nineties staples had come back into fashion in her little corner of the universe - rah-rah skirts, for example, and kilts (especially in bright tartan patterns), and the now-back-in-style (because of her) bubble skirt. Drew also liked compromise-styles that echoed male fashions, and she brought back, at least in her little school, such things as the cargo skirt, and her wearing skorts during her occasional solitary weekend jogs had made these a de rigueur part of every St. George, Staten Island teenage fitness buff's wardrobe.

Drew spent a couple of hours getting lost in the mall, thinking, and came out with a couple new things - a navy-blue bubble skirt with big, white polka dots, a new tartan miniskirt-kilt with pleats, in red, gold and navy-blue, and a sleek, white three-fourth sleeve mock turtleneck bodyshirt that would go well with both skirts.

She went to her regular Starbucks and had her usual small, low-cal caramel frappe and a bag of low-fat kettle-cooked potato chips. She was well known in the cafe, and her favorite barista jumped to get her regular order together. One advantage of having to watch her weight, Drew thought, was that she saved a bundle on food (conveniently forgetting her frequent shopping sessions, of course).

As she shopped and then lounged around in the coffee shop after, she reveled in the added attention that her new do gave her, especially among the boys. While sitting and sipping her coffee, pretending to read something on her iPad Mini, she frequently crossed and re-crossed her legs, and "absentmindedly" stroked her throat and upper chest, sometimes even "absentmindedly" reaching down to stroke a leg.

The fashion style she "borrowed" from her deceased cousin made her stand out among her Staten Island peers to the same degree as a high-fashion teen model would among a gaggle of underage street walkers, and her new do and makeup just emphasized it more.

She knew the havoc she was creating in the minds of the teenage boys around her and giggled inside. Before, she'd just be exasperated with all the attention. Not this time.

Eventually, she finished her coffee. She picked up her shopping bags, purse and other stuff, stood up and turned to leave. She heard a crash behind her. Apparently, several kids had also gotten up to follow her, but had gotten in each other's way causing a crash and a mini-pile-up.

She giggled, looked back and waved at the fallen kids. "Bye, boys," she giggled, and walked out.

That was fun, she thought, but she shook her head and turned her mind back to prosaic but more important matters. Still, as she walked to her car, she swiveled her hips to get the most attention. She got in and slammed her car door.

She shook her head again. Okay, she thought. Onward to mysterious Somerset County, New Jersey. After adjusting her package a little bit under the skirt to get more comfortable for driving, she pulled out of the parking lot.