A Boy Named Amy

One day Amy wakes up and she's a boy. On top of that, it's a school day, and Amy likes One Direction.

Chapter 1

The Wrong Face

One day a girl named Amy Wright woke up and felt different. The girl cracked one eye open and peered around the room. Nope, still in bed. Same posters of One Direction on the wall. Same outfit lying in her suitcase from the day before.
She didn't know why she felt different, but there was definitely something.

Standing up, Amy tried to brush her shoulder-length blonde hair. It didn't work. Now alarmed, she realized her younger sister might have chopped it off in the middle of the night.

It became apparent once she looked in the mirror. No, it was most definitely not the doing of a younger sister of low intelligence.

There was stubble on her face. Her forehead was slightly broader. Her hair was at least five inches shorter. "What the--"

She watched herself gasp in a masculine voice and repeated herself. "What the heck?"

She looked like a boy. This was worse than she'd thought... plastic surgery? No, that was too expensive. Did she have amnesia? Maybe she'd gotten major surgery done and was actually a movie star that could only remember the first fifteen years of her life.

No, that was too ridiculous. Why would he be standing in front of a cheap plastic mirror if she was rich and famous?

Thank heaven she had just moved into the neighborhood, or else everyone at school would freak out. She'd always thought there was a sort of unlucky magic about Monday, but this was going too far. Would her parents even recognize her?

There was no use in waiting. If she was correct, this was a school day and it was already six thirty. In another half hour school started.

Maybe she could cover it up with makeup! The facial hair... oh crap, it was real. And how could makeup make her hair longer? And the nose! And the eyebrows! If she really was a boy (and she had a flat chest too), then makeup would look unbelievably dumb.

Time to face the world.

Amy Wright opened her bedroom door, and walked into the apartment's kitchen. Her mom was there, scrambling eggs. She didn't turn around.

"Good morning, sunshine! First day of school in Virginia, so I made pancakes and eggs for you."

Amy didn't say anything. She just sat down at the table and hoped her mother wouldn't turn around. A fruitless cause, of course.

Her mom turned around, scrambled egg pan in one hand and spatula in the other. The spatula clattered to the floor. For three seconds, she was completely silent, eyes popping out in disbelief. Then she spoke.

"Get out of my house."

Amy couldn't believe it. "But I'm Amy!" She protested. Even her voice testified against her.

"OUT. Don't make me use force, young man! How did you get in?"

"I'm your daughter! I don't know what happened!"

Her mom was now approaching, holding the pan like a weapon. Amy threw up her arm in self defense. "Don't hit me, just look. I'm not in my bedroom, I'm not hiding, I'm right here in front of you!"

Just then her nosy little sister Helen flounced in, already forming an accusing sentence. "Mom, Amy's not in her room!"

Helen froze, her eight year old eyes regarding the scene before her.

"Amy, what happened to your hair?" She finally whispered.

Their mom took a step back, and looked closely at her apparent son. She looked like Amy, alright. Not the hair, but if you looked closely, you could see her. It was in the eyes. It was in the face, and the tone of voice. It was in her expressions and the way she sighed.

"How did this..." Mom said like she was whispering in a church.

"I don't know," Amy repeated. Mom closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "So I'm supposed to believe that my daughter has turned into a son. Okay."

Then she opened her eyes, and it was almost normal again. "Alrighty-y! We'll have to call the school, notify them that Amy is actually a bo..."

She glanced at Amy. "Oh, goodness. What should we call you?"

A new name. For some reason the word 'James' escaped her lips. She looked like a James, she thought. The rugged blonde hair, inquisitive green eyes, short stature...

"I know James! He's from your old school, and you like him!" Blurted Helen.

Amy glared at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She was lying. James was kind of hot, but in that way that, as her namesake once said, once you got to know him he was dull as a brick. The one she actually liked, the one who's personality sort of became his face, moved away long ago. Well, months ago. Same difference.

Amy picked at the edges of her pancake all through breakfast. At least Dad was already at work. If she was lucky, she could change back to a girl before he came home and totally flipped.

"School bus is here!" Helen announced, peering out the window.

Amy had no choice but to sling her One-Direction backpack over one shoulder (all the while thinking of a good excuse for a boy to be wearing it) and follow her little sister out the door.

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