Moonlit Waters

I like being outside, I always have. If only it wasn’t so hot this summer, if only there wasn’t so much to think about outside.

I turn the music up, but quickly turn it down again when my ears begin to hurt.

With long strides I walk in direction of the lake. This time around, I do come across a few people on my way. It is only late evening, the sun is painting everything in its dazzling golden light, the birds are still out. It’s probably the most comfortable time of the day. To most.

There’s a youth hostel pretty close to the lake and in the surrounding garden I can see loads of picnics and small campfires. They must be completely booked out for the coming weekend. Not only is it summer and this a common tourism area, there’s also a comet visible in the sky.

Well, as long as they don’t bother me. I don’t think any will come down to the lake later at night. They never do.

But when I arrive, it isn’t late at night. It’s not even early at night so there are still many families with screaming and laughing children. Ugh.

I walk onwards along the path that leads around the lake. I’ve walked this route many times before, it takes maybe two hours if I walk quickly, two and a half at a leisured pace.

It takes me half an hour to make my way to the small beach hidden behind a thick wall of bushes. Nobody besides me knows of this place, the other bigger beaches are just too inviting. It might be an alright spot for a hidden date, but again, there are better places for that. There’s not enough space to lay out a picnic blanket here, don’t even think about having sex.

So it meets my purposes just fine. Because I don’t think I’ll ever have somebody to come here with.

I change into my trunks and then stare idly at the T-shirt I brought. Why did I bring it along? So that I could leave it here, right? Because if he didn’t give it to me, I have no business having it, right? I should probably drop it off at the main beach later this night.

I pull off my own t-shirt and hide my things under one of the bushes before following another inexplicable impulse, changing into my friend’s t-shirt. If I want it never to be found again, I might as well drop it off in the middle of the lake.

That it would probably stay afloat, I only realise when I’m already belly-deep in the water and then I tell myself that I should just keep it on as it is already wet anyway and I don’t want it to be found with my other things.

So I hold my breath and let myself sink underwater, gently pushing off the slick slope to swim out just below the surface.

The moment my ears submerge, everything just… turns right somehow. It’s like my consciousness was a set of gears and all day long they’d been wedged against one another, to the point of immovability, and now the water had put them right.

I can feel it even before doing the first stroke. My body’s changing, just like it had in that dream. Or was it really a dream?

For a moment, panic boils up in my stomach, but that stops soon.

Last night hadn’t been a dream. I’d really been here when the comet appeared at the sky and I really did change into a girl then. Most importantly, though, I changed back. Now I can at least be sure that by dawn I’ll have my body and identity back.

So I don’t go into a full-blown panic attack. I don’t even get back out of the water. Why would I? The transformation hasn’t finished yet, it is still going slowly, and I don’t want anybody to see. And even once it is finished, I don’t think I’ll get out so soon. I have all night to change, right?
It must be the water. The water and that comet.

With one smooth motion, I emerge from the water, breathe out, breathe in, and disappear into the dark again.

Unfortunate. I’ll have to steer clear of the lake at least until the comet is gone again. Assuming that this condition will go away then. And is it even just the lake or water generally? Will I have to refrain from showering? Is washing my hands just not enough? I’ll have to try it out once I get back home in the morning. If showering actually changes me, I’ve got a huge problem. How long does it even take for my body to change back?

Deeply submerged in thought I swim and swim, barely looking where I’m going, until I find myself at the small island in the far half of the lake. It’s nothing more than a few boulders sticking out of the water. At day, the boys love to jump off them, even though they’re not even that high. The highest is maybe three meters off the water surface.

I put out my hands to pull myself onto the lowest one. The surface underneath my fingers is rough but clean of dirt, small stones or edges that could prick my fingers. I try to heave myself up like I used to do when I came out here with Alex. It had been easy then. Now it is hard. I have to lean onto the rock and slowly edge myself upwards. I do make it, though, and soon I sit, leaning back onto my hands, putting my head back to catch my breath. The T-shirt is tightly clinging to my chest. My long hair hangs in wet strands and occasionally touches my arms. Strangely, though, the sensation doesn't irritate me.

By now it is completely dark out. The sun had already set when I went into the water, but now there’s not so much as a glimpse of light shining past the treetops. The moon hasn’t shown yet, either. It won’t ever get darker than now.

The families must have all gone by now. They won’t want to walk home without seeing properly, the additional lake time isn’t worth the drama over a kid’s scraped knee.

I pull one knee to my chest and feel the skin. Weird. There’s not so much as a single hair. Just smooth skin.

Only now do I realise that I have absolutely no clue what I look like now. I don’t even know my hair colour. The only thing I do know, is that I’m in the body of a girl. Is there enough similarity to Timothy that somebody could believe me if I told them?

The night is pleasantly warm, just so that I don’t feel cold, even though my hair is drying only slowly.

I try to lie back, to stare at the sky and stop thinking of my body, and instead enjoy the sight and the silence. It even works until… there’s the sound of somebody swimming in my direction.
Suddenly, my heart is racing, hammering in my ears, adrenaline pumping through my veins. If I can hear the person, they’re already close. Maybe they didn’t see me. It is pretty dark after all.

So as quiet as I, can I get up and climb upwards, until I stop on the second highest spot to hide in the shadow of the highest. If I have to run, I can just jump into the water and swim off. Though… the other person will probably be faster than me, right? So really hiding is all I can do.

God I hate being a girl.

Soon after, the swimming sounds stop and with a deep breath, somebody climbs onto the rock.
For a few seconds there’s just the sound of steady, measured breathing.

Slowly, I inch forward and peek over the edge, down at the person and flinch back immediately.

It is Alex.

Of course it is.

Because… why wouldn’t he be here?

Except that he told me he was busy tonight. He’d told me that he hadn’t been at the lake last night and that had obviously been a lie.

There’s a pang of disappointment in my chest.

Why would he lie to me?

There’s literally no reason for him to not tell me the truth. Except maybe if he doesn’t care about Timothy… but even then it doesn’t make sense.

“Why are you hiding?”

His voice gives me such a fright I audibly gasp.

“C’mon, I know you’re there. I saw you coming closer.” He chuckles.

The sound of his amusement makes me angry. What kind of friend is he?

“Why do you care?” I snap from above. I feel uncomfortable being found out, like he might think me stupid. Additionally, there’s the matter of my being a girl, once again wearing his t-shirt.

He chuckles. It sounds different to the way he laughed a few hours ago. “Just curious what a girl like yourself might be doing out here in the middle of the night. Especially after what happened last night. Do you come here regularly?” I can hear his head turn up to look in my direction.

“And if I did?” I ask back. I don’t want him here. Tentatively, I look over the edge, down at him. His short hair is wet, tightly clinging to his head. Tonight he’s not wearing a shirt, just swimming trunks. From up here I can see the muscles on his shoulders bulging as he leans back onto his hands.

“Nothing,” he says with another chuckle. “I like to swim at night, too.”

“I like to watch the stars,” I retort drily. “And enjoy the silence.”

That makes him laugh out loud.

“What?” I ask harshly.

He takes his time replying. “You’re very direct,” he says then. “You remind me of somebody.”

“Huh?”

“A friend.” He looks up again and I quickly retreat out of sight. Strands of wet hair were hanging in my face so I’m sure he didn’t get a proper look at it, but I certainly won’t risk it.
“Why don’t you come and join me down here? Wouldn’t that be more comfortable?”

Is he hitting on me or just trying to be nice? I’m not sure. There’s no experience of being hit-on that I could rely on for proper judgement.

“I’m quite comfortable up here,” I say. “You were going to tell me about your friend?”

“Yeah… A friend of mine used to be a lot like you. A bit introverted, sarcastic-”

“Who ever said I was introverted?” I ask heatedly.

“You hid when you heard somebody was approaching you.”

“Which you’ve got to admit is a creepy thing to do,” I shoot back. “You didn’t even call out to let me know it was you.”

“Fair. And still there you are, hiding up there, even though you know now that it’s me.” That shuts me up.

Until a thought hits me. What friend was he talking about? Me? Did I really change that much?
“But what happened to that friend?”

“Huh?”

“You said he changed. What happened?” Mechanically, I move to look down at him again but decide against it at the last moment.

He takes a moment before replying. “Honestly, I don’t know. He just… changed. I don’t think he’s doing very well. Barely leaves the house, always plays games… I play with him because that’s basically the only way I can spend time with him at this point.”

The words hit me like a brick to the stomach. I know that I’m not very sociable, of course. But I’d always thought Alex liked to play League with me.

I feel sick. My head is spinning. I lean against the rock behind me so I can’t lose my balance and fall.

He’s such a good friend and still, there I was questioning his motives. So what if he doesn’t tell me about his every plan. It’s not my place to be mad if I won’t even tell him about my problems.

“Anyway,” his voice takes on a lighter tone. “He likes the night sky too, and enjoys quietness.”

Momentary silence ensues. I don’t know what to say, how I should react. I want to say something, but I’m scared of giving away my identity.

“You still there?” Alex asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” I hurry to say, leaning over to show him just a glance of my face. “I- You sound like you’re a good friend,” I say then, once I’m safely out of sight again.

“You think so?” His voice is thoughtful and calm.

I nod, even though he can’t see. “Yeah.”

“I never thought about it that way, to be honest. I’m just worried, you know? He’s becoming more and more of a shut-in. He won’t really leave the house, barely talks to me face-to-face. I’m just scared that someday he might not want to have anything to do with me.”

“I’m sorry,” I say before I can think better of it. I mean it. He’s right, of course.

Suddenly, I feel like a parasite, clinging to him, using him to keep me afloat. He deserves so much better.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” he chuckles. “Sorry for… killing the mood like this. Must’ve made you quite uncomfortable, huh?”

“No,” I hurry to say, “don’t worry about it. You’re fine.”

I know what to do. It’s obvious. Selena, the girl I become at night, she can help me. I know I’d never talk to Alex like this if I knew that he knew who I was. But like this… This is so easy, somehow. And why shouldn’t I be able to use that to my, to our advantage?

This must be what the voice intended for me to do, right? ‘Do you want to be happy?’

“Talking about mood-killing,” he says suddenly. “Is that my t-shirt you’re wearing there?”

Oh fuck. “And if it is?” I know I’m a bad liar, there’s no point in denying it.

“Don’t you have proper bath clothing?” He sounds amused, more than anything.

“Do you think I would’ve gone topless in swimming trunks otherwise?” At least that’s a whole lot more probable than going into the water as a boy and being changed into a girl along the way.

“Fair.” Pause. “So you’ll keep my shirt, I’m guessing?”

“Do you want it back?”

“No, no it’s fine. Kinda old anyway.” While that may be the truth, I’m certain it’s also one of his favourites. He used to wear it quite often. Typical.

“Thanks.”

“By the way,” he starts out once more. “What happened yesterday? Why were you drowning, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I do,” I reply flatly. Telling the truth isn’t an option. Making up an elaborate lie about past trauma isn’t either.

“What?”

“I mind your asking.”

“Hm… You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

“Don’t see the need. You talk enough for the two of us,” I scoff. But it’s a friendly kind of scoff, only a little annoyed. It’s simply my way of telling him that I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not outright rejecting his presence, not anymore.

Below, a screen lights up. I lean forward again and see that he’s looking at his watch.
It must be getting late.

“Do you think you’ll ever tell me? I’d like to get to know you better.” Again. Is he hitting on me? Is he actually interested in a girl who’s face he didn’t even properly see?

“I’ll think about it if you stop nagging.”

“Alright, I get it.” He gets up, his face is at the height of my knee. “I’ve gotta go, it’s late.” He turns to look at me and I lower my head to let strands of hair block his sight like a curtain.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” he asks.

Probably. Actually, I’m almost certain I will be here. “Come and find out.” I don’t want to encourage him.

“How non-commital.” He grins.

“I come here to enjoy the quiet, you know?” I retort with a sarcastic undertone.

“You say that.” Coolly, he leans against the rock I’m sitting on. “Yet still you talk to me. You could just tell me to shut up, you know?”

Why is he able to just call me out like that? I feel my face getting hot. “Shut up…” But then again, do I really want him to? “I’ll be there.”

He nods. “Alright.”

He takes a step back, raises his hand in a farewell-gesture, then takes a step forward and disappears into the water. His submergence barely causes a splash. What a show-off.

A small smile creeps onto my lips as the small splashes grow more and more faint and distant. He probably didn’t even think about bragging, that’s not Alex. He’s just naturally good.

Half an hour later, when I’m sure he’s long gone home, I make my way home. I still haven’t changed back, but my parents were planning to go to bed early. It’s not like sleeping at the beach again is much of an option. If somebody found me there… Well, I don’t want to think about it.

So, once I’m out of the water again, I dry myself with the towel I brought and change back into my normal clothes. My nipples are clearly visible and when I walk, they brush against the fabric. It’s not even uncomfortable, really, my breasts aren’t large enough for there to be much movement, but it’s a feeling I’m not used to. I don’t think I’ll get used to it anytime soon.

I don’t meet anybody on my way home. The house is dark and quiet. Like a shadow, I make my way up to my room, hang Alex’s shirt up to dry in my closet where Pearl won’t find it on accident.

I’m deep in thought, brooding over how I can change my behaviour without arousing suspicion. Of course, I’m also worried about anxiety and such, but somehow, right now, that doesn’t seem to be that much of a problem.

Weird. Is this changing-thing influencing the chemical structures in my brain? Might as well, what do I know about supernatural processes?

The toothbrush is already in my mouth when I first look in the mirror in the bathroom. I totally forgot about it and now that I see the girl I so obviously am right now, I halt.

My long, blonde hair is still a bit wet, the strands are slightly curly. My face is smaller, my chin a bit more round. My skin is flawless, the beaked nose has given way to a small and straight one. My eyebrows look like they’ve been plucked. All pretty, but what really catches my attention, are my eyes. They haven’t changed their colour, I don’t think. It’s still the same shade of green with occasional sprinkles of grey. Somehow, they feel different still. They’ve got this weird intensity to them. I stare at them the entire time while I’m brushing my teeth, but I can’t figure out what’s changed.

When I’m done, I go to bed. I put on joggers and an oversized shirt, even though I usually sleep just in boxers. But that would feel weird now.