Could I pass for 18?

I thought about it and decided that there was unlikely to be anything in my dreams that would be more revealing of my psychological state than what was available to Neeka from my conscious mind nor was anything she found in my dreams likely to come as much of a shock to her. We might have fun playing with this, but I could forget my notion of this being Nobel Prize material. Convincing any skeptic that it was actually happening would be impossible to start with.

I got dressed in a pair of stretch shorts so small that they could have been a bikini bottom and a matching top that molded itself to my boobs perfectly. Another excellent example of Mr. Morton's work. It made a perfect workout outfit, since I had complete freedom of movement. As I admired myself in the mirror, I thought that the more clothes I wore that he had made for me, the more I was beginning to appreciate his work. I had yet to put on something of his that did not feel great, look great, and make me feel like I aught to be posing for a photographer or walking down a fashion show runway.

I tore myself away from the mirror and ran downstairs to get a bite to eat.

Bambi's French toast was delicious and I complimented it.

"It's wonderful, thank you. If you're not careful, you are going to have the whole neighborhood inviting themselves to eat over here."

"Well, thank you for the compliment!" She said. "Is there something special I can fix you and your friends for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, I hate to put you to all that trouble! Please don't feel that you have to cook for all..." I counted up the attendees plus the residents in my head, "... eight of us! Just letting me invite all these people over to run around and mess up the house is making enough work for you. You're already the World's Greatest Mom. Please don't strain yourself proving it!"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that it was going to have just the opposite effect of what I had intended. I put my fork down with a bite still on it and got my ass up out of my chair and walked around the table and put my arms around my Mom and hugged her tight.

"I mean that, Mom. You are the World's Greatest. And if I haven't said it lately, "I love you!". I am the World's Luckiest Girl to have a Mom like you. I am happy to be your daughter. I am even happier that it's by choice and not just a circumstance of birth. If I get wrapped up in things and forget to say it often enough, I want you to remember that I mean it and I always will."

After that, I had to kiss away the tears of joy that ran down her cheeks. She pulled me into her lap and we hugged each other.

"Take-out would be great," I said. "But if you want to cook, how about making pizza? That's something fun to make and you won't spend all day in the kitchen. We can all help put the toppings on and everyone can have it the way they like it. Just — no onions or anchovies — please. I want you to know that I appreciate everything you do. Neeka and I were upstairs talking about how thoughtful you are. You seem to have made her your friend, too. She was telling me how wonderful you are and how thoughtful and how much work you do to try to make me happy. I want you to know that all that effort is working. If I were any happier, I would explode."

Neeka sent me a mental picture of a wink and a pat on the back from her.

"Thank you, honey," Mom said. "I love you too."

"Besides," I said, "you know how much fun we had last weekend, all us girls together. Well... you've never met Janice or Jolene have you?"

"No, honey. Why?"

"I have an idea," I said, with a devilish grin.

"Uh oh!" Mom said.

Neeka was already grinning and nodding enthusiastically in agreement.

"See? Neeka likes the idea," I told Mom.

"I see I'm being set up for something. What are you planning?"

"You know how everyone has been saying you can pass for a teenager? Well, we'd like to see you do it. Connie is the only one who has seen you before, but I'm sure she'll go along. Neeka and I will help you pick out something to wear and do your makeup, otherwise that would be a giveaway."

"You're not serious!"

"Yes, we are," Neeka said. "You've perfected the 'Mrs. Reynolds' look so that it is almost a trademark. Everyone in town knows you on sight because you wear great clothes and you always look so fashionable. Sam and I have seen you out of those clothes and that makeup and we know you could pass for 19 or 20 easily. Maybe even younger, if you can drop the good posture and the graceful manner."

"Graceful?"

"Yes, Mom. Graceful. Also elegant, stylish, chic, well-dressed, poised, refined and charming. You are all that. Everyone says so. Everyone!"

"Look," Neeka said. "She's blushing. That's great! You look a lot younger when you do that!"

"You see? All you have to do is relax. Don't worry about keeping up an appearance. Just be yourself. I know there is a teen in there somewhere, just waiting to come out."

"Won't that be a cruel trick on your friends?"

"Why? We won't lie to them any more than we have to. If they figure it out, then I have some smart friends. But I bet we get away with it. As long as nobody slips up, I bet it takes them a long time to catch wise."

"I admit; it's tempting. You think I could really pass for 18?"

"Absolutely! We'll get you all fixed up. We'll introduce you just as Bambi. We'll make a point of calling you that. If they ask questions, just try to remember what you were doing and thinking at 18."

"That's easy — I was thinking about boys... and girls too."

"She's blushing again," Neeka said. "Bambi, you're so adorable!"

I looked at Mom to see if she would react to Neeka calling her by name. She didn't bat an eye. I wondered if this was even the first time. Surely this was something that had been dealt with last night.

"You can do this. It'll be fun. If you get stuck on anything, we'll help you out."

"OK, I'll do it. I may regret it, but I want to try. It does sound like fun. I just hope your friends aren't too mad when they find out."

"IF they find out. And if they get mad, then... then... what do you do if they can't take a joke?"

"Fuck 'em!" Bambi and Neeka said together, giggling.

"OK, we'll get started on your makeover right after lunch," I said. "Right now, Neeka and I have to practice."

Neeka must have run over to her house at some point, because she had her workout clothes hanging in the cabinet. She changed into them and we got her padded up before we began practicing our Kung Fu.

We spent almost an hour going over the things that Master Li had taught us in class. After that, we squared off on the mat and sparred, using the punches and kicks we had learned and practiced. Neeka had improved more than I had. Even allowing for her natural advantage, she tagged me more than I would have liked. I tended to try for the 'one big hit' more than I should have. She seemed to rely more on a campaign of attrition to wear me down and make me mad so I would make a mistake that she could exploit.

We had been at it for longer than we probably should have, when I let my guard down and she stepped inside and clopped me in the head with a padded glove. My head spun around and I fell to the mat like a sack of dirty laundry.

"Sam!" she said, dropping to the mat beside me. "Are you OK?"

"No!" I said. "I suck.! You are much better at this than I am."

"Well that's probably because I'm not pulling my punches. You've just been dodging or parrying everything up to now. You're hesitating."

"Come with me," I said, climbing to my feet. I led Neeka over to the heavy bag and got out the padded gloves and gave them to her.

"Have you tried to hit this thing?" I asked.

"No. I saw you do it, though. You barely moved it."

"Try it out."

She put the gloves on and punched the bag. Nothing happened, as I expected.