I was the runt of the litter. I never stood up to a fight, but ran like hell. After a while, it was easier playing with the girls than wrestling with ...he boys. I heard it all. Sissy, fag, queer. Maybe the names finally made me what I was. I was more girl than boy. I was sensitive, caring, loving, and meant well. I wouldn't hurt anyone or anything. This was what I was. So be it. I was all those names and more. Later, the names progressed to transvestite, then transsexual. I heard them all as I. His feet werecold. A shiver ran down his thin spine.After an uncounted eternity, Zeb spoke."Scout?" he began in an unsteady, high-pitched squeak.At that moment, the world swam again in a dizzying array of blurredcolors and disjointed shapes.Collapsing to the floor half from exhaustion and half from pain, Zebrealized he was himself again. How and why, he never knew. He and Scout would never speak of the event.* * *Dateline: July 8, 1947 "Roswell Daily Record"The intelligence office of the 509th. More

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