Glossed and Found

The spark left a ringing silence behind it.

Gary's eyes took a moment to adjust to the light again, the phosphorescent flare leaving him blinking, unable to focus. Wyatt, too, seemed dazed, her long mascara-laden lashes fluttering fup and down, her eyes unable to rise to meet Gary's. He watched as she stared in the direction of Gary's skirt, her tongue slipping out of her mouth, gently licking her lips.

Suddenly her eyes snapped up, her face turning bright red.

"I... er..." she said, backing away slowly, "need to go. I'll see you tonight."

For a moment after Wyatt turned and hurried down the hallway, Gary just stood there, still staring at the space where their hands had touched.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered to no one, thinking about both the spark and Wyatt's quick departure.

Down the corridor, the last few students were leaving for the day, their laughter and chatter sounding normal. It was soothing for Gary to hear. So much of his life had changed, so much had turned upside down, that simple, familiar things like the din of the school hallway helped him feel grounded. Reality changes, magic sparks, and newly sexy best friends all added up to a knot in his stomach that needed every ounce of normality he could get.

But his school day was over, just as it was for the other students, so he took a deep breath and headed for his locker.

"Hey, Lisa!" someone called as he passed. "Great work in English today!"

He ignored it, irritated that this reality glitch persisted. Taking his clothes was one thing, but his name?

"Lisa!" Sharper this time.

Gary turned, irritated. "What? My name's Gary!"

At least, that was what he had tried to say. The sound that came out of his mouth was not Gary. No, in fact it had no resemblance to the name Gary. Not one bit.

"Lisa!" Gary repeated. "My name is Lisa!"

"Uh, yeah," the student looked dumbfounded, "that's what I said. Anyway, you and Wyatt were really good. Way to go!"

Gary brought his hand to his lips to feel his mouth move.

"Lisa," he whispered.

The girl looked concerned. "You okay?"

He nodded mutely and kept walking, heart hammering.

At his locker, the label plate read L. Wallace. He stared at it, waiting for his eyes to correct themselves, but it didn't change. The combination was the same, as were most of the contents. Most. Not all. Along with his books, there was now a magnetic mirror on the inside of the door, and a makeup bag like he'd seen his mom use.

He needed to get out of here. Maybe splash some water on his face. Not bothering to load up his books, he slammed and locked the locker and moved quickly down the hall. The bathroom. Yes, that was what he needed. Cold water on his face, space away from everyone. He pushed open the door...

"Hey!” a voice barked from inside. "What the hell are you doing? Wrong door! This is the men's room!"

Gary froze. "No, I'm..."

The door slammed in his face.

His pulse jumped. Very slowly, Gary turned toward the women's restroom, hesitated, then stepped inside. A few girls looked up from their mirrors, but none of them said a word. One even smiled politely before going back to fixing her lipstick.

There was an empty sink at the end of the row. Walking carefully past each of the women, he was aware of how loud his heels were on the tiled floor. He washed his hands slowly, staring at his reflection. The lighting seemed different here—warmer, softer. There was something in his reflection that looked different from before. It took him a few moments of staring before he saw it. The neckline of his blouse, the pink shirt with the bow around the neck, had now crept lower than it was earlier.

He splashed water on his cheeks. "Get it together, Lisa" he told himself, ignoring the fact that he couldn't even say his own name anymore. "You're fine. You're just—fine."

That, of course, was a lie.

When he finally got home, the house was silent. His parents had left on their trip. The note on the table told him to have a great week, but that it was good he was staying at Wyatt's as they had booked a fumigator to come and take care of their termite issue. They would be arriving first thing in the morning and the house would need to be empty all week. He headed upstairs, trying not to think about how quickly the world was changing around him. No, he was going to fix this. He was going to go to Wyatt's, they were going to figure out a way to get the computer parts they needed, and everything would go back to normal.

He opened his closet.

The breath left his lungs.

The closet was still filled with dresses, skirts, delicate blouses, pastel sweaters, but it was different than before. Everything was softer, smaller, more fitted. His clothes weren't just gone, they were getting worse. He yanked a hanger free and held it up: a slinky pink camisole and a matching micro-skirt. He dropped them like they'd burned him. "This isn't happening," he muttered. "This—no."

But the universe didn't seem to care.

After a few panicked minutes, he found something that at least approached masculine: tight black lycra shorts and a cropped Shermer Bulldogs tee. At least it was technically sportswear. He slipped them on and stared at himself in the mirror. It didn't help that every pair of shoes he owned now had heels — high, glossy, unapologetic. He settled for a pink pair of sandals with the same unreasonable heel they all shared and tried not to think about it.

He pulled a suitcase from under the bed and dropped it on the floor. He was supposed to stay at Wyatt's that week. That much, at least, was still true. He just needed to pack and get out of this house before it changed again.

He sat cross-legged beside the suitcase, trying to focus on what to bring.

Instead, his thoughts wandered back to Wyatt. To the way she'd looked at him during the reading, the way her voice softened when she said, "One kiss and I'll descend."

It had to have been a joke. At least that's what he'd thought when she first said it. But as she looked into his eyes, and he began to drown in hers, Gary knew it was something else. Something he was afraid to put words to.

And then in the hallway, that spark. Again! Why had Wyatt touched him? She knew as well as he did that something happened the last time they touched. And now Gary had lost his name and his wardrobe had once again been redefined. Whatever the sparks were, they were rewiring reality.

Shaking off his thoughts, Gary blinked. He was no longer sitting on the floor. Instead, he was standing over a fully packed suitcase.

He stared at it. Perfectly arranged clothes. Makeup bag. Perfume. Lingerie. Even a lacey nightgown folded neatly on top.

He hadn't touched a thing.

"Okay," he whispered. "Either I'm losing it, or reality is."

Neither possibility was comforting.

He sat still for a long time, heartbeat loud in his ears, until the air itself seemed to nudge him. Some unseen gravity pulling him forward. Maybe he should repack, take out what was in there and put in what he thought he'd actually need, not frilly bras and lip gloss.

His mind went to how the women had looked at him in the washroom at school. Not one of them had been bothered by his presence. Not one of them had screamed, complained, or even asked him to leave. It had been the men that had chased him out. Did the world now see him as a woman, despite whatever biological markers he could provide? What did he do to deserve this punishment?!

Again, Gary brought his mind back to focus on the task at hand. But instead of being in his bedroom, he found that he was outside.

The sun was hanging low and amber, painting long shadows on the sidewalk. The suitcase rolled easily behind him; a large pink shoulder bag pressed against his side. The world felt quiet and far away, like he was walking inside a dream he couldn't wake from.

He glanced down at his feet. The sandals clicked lightly with each step.

He licked his lips, nervous — and tasted gloss.

Cherry.

He exhaled shakily, eyes on the street ahead. Wyatt's house was only a block away.

Something had gone very wrong.

But some part of him — the part that still tingled faintly from the spark — whispered that maybe this was exactly where he was supposed to go.