The boys' side

John trudged into the boys' locker room and started scrubbing his mustard-stained shirt at the sink. He could still hear the half-audible echoes of water and mirth emanating from the girls' room, which he only half registered until the sound of his own name caught his attention.

"... ... ... John recently?" asked someone. Then more unintelligible syllables, concluding with the unmistakable word, "changed!" He kept listening but nothing more was decipherable, and eventually it was clear the conversation had moved on.

What did "changed" mean? He looked at himself in the mirror and, with a shock, suddenly realized how unfamiliar he looked to himself. His eyes were those of the same quirky, bookish, science-nerd he had always been, but now they were set in a frame that had somehow become foreign to him over the past year without his even realizing it. The acne was gone; he guessed he had just gradually grown out of it. In its place was... a face... a pleasant one... maybe even a handsome one given the right circumstances. And his body had radically changed. He was still thin, and yes, maybe a little gangly, but his weight-lifting devotion had unmistakably left its mark. "Chiseled" was probably the word the jocks would have used to describe him. Each muscle in his arms and torso was faintly yet distinctly visible.

For a moment, he felt the panic of an identity crisis. The thought of joining the jock army was, frankly, beyond appalling. He was still a geek, dammit! Iambic pentameter! Sulfur hexafluoride! Monte Python! Just breathe... just breathe... But soon he realized the obvious: It was only skin deep, after all. He hadn't lost himself, not really. He was just something... a little bit new. A little bit new could be good. With a new spring in his step and a feeling of having turned some invisible corner, he returned to the gym and re-entered his slightly-new life.

The rest of practice passed fairly uneventfully, but he felt changed---a little more comfortable in his own skin---and that seemed to make everything fresh to him. As the girls packed up to depart, the conversation inevitably turned to the exciting prospect of the upcoming nationals.

"This summer is going to be SO great!" gushed Allison, "I mean can you believe it? Hawaii? Forget the meet, I'm going to hit the beaches every day!"

"Never mind the beaches," retorted Mandy, "You'll find me at the bars. The drinking age in Hawaii is 18! We'll all be able to go!"

A cacophony of approving hoots, bemused groans, and skeptical no-it-isn'ts ensued until Tanya raised her voice over the chaos.

"The real question is how we're gonna get the money to go in the first place," she said sternly, "I just found out that the school will only cover half."

The girls' faces fell at the news. "Half?! That leaves like... ten thousands dollars per person, right?" moaned Ilyana, who was never very good at math and had probably never purchased anything without the assistance of her parents' credit card.

"Try $800 per person," corrected Tanya, "Still, it's a lot of money to raise. Any ideas?"