"Nice pajamas. I think Johnny hasa pair just like them," she kidded me."He still does, Mom. Mrs. Johnson and I had a nice talk. Johnny and Jennyare th... same person. It's not what I wear, it's how I feel about myself. Iwanted to see if that was true, if I would still be a girl when I'mdressed like a boy." And are you?" Mom asked."Yes," I said with relief. "I don't feel any different about myself inboy's pajamas, although, to tell you the truth, I like my nightgownbetter." You know, Mrs. Johnson. " And suddenly I was standing faceto face with a "normal" boy about two years older than me. He wasdressed very well and was about four inches taller than me. Nicelooking, for a boy, with sandy blonde hair. Something about beingaround a boy my own age, who was doing and wearing the things I was"supposed" to be doing, was making me very aware of my clothes. Icouldn't figure out whether it was making me nervous or excited. Maybea little of both. "Hi, Mary," he smiled. I said hello and. More

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