My grandmother threw a fit when she saw my hair.  

"It makes you look like a boy, dear."  She said.

"That's kinda the point, Grandma."  I replied under my breath.

"But it was so beautiful long."  She said, fingering my short hair.  

"It'll grow back."  I reminded her.  "Don't you have Bingo Thursday nights?"  

"Right."  Grandma grabbed her jacket.  I don't know why she needed it; it was like eighty degrees outside.  "You be a good girl, now."  She told me.  "Emmett will be along any moment to pick me up.  He's bringing his grandson for you to meet."

"I really don't need to meet anymore guys."  I told her. 

"Well, you aren't going out with that Evan boy, are you?"  

"No, but--"

"You should be looking to find yourself a good husband."

"But I'm fifteen!"

"Right.  You're almost past your prime."

The doorbell rang, and Grandma opened it.   Standing in the door frame was an old man with grey hair and a cane and--

"Patrick!"  I shouted.  "What are you doing here?"  

"You!"  Patrick pointed a finger and shouted back.  "You!"

"Looks like they know each other."  The old man said to my grandmother.  "Have fun kids."  

"See you later, Torarin and Nathalie."  My grandmother called and she pushed Patrick inside.   "Don't get pregnant."

They shut the door and were gone.

Patrick and I immediately started yelling at each other.  

"You're a girl?! You told me you were a guy! What are you doing at Lakewood if you're a girl?  I can't believe you're not a guy!"

"What are you doing here?  I can't believe you saw me dressed as a girl.  What am I going to do now?!"

There was a moment of silence during which each others words sunk in.

"So your real name is Torarin?"  I asked him.

Patrick nodded.  "Patrick is my middle name.  My parents were suckers for mythology.  Your real name is Nathalie, right?"

"Yeah.  I got into Lakewood on a scholarship.  Please don't tell anyone."

"Why would I do something like that?"  Patrick--Torarin--asked.  "I'll keep it a secret for you."

"Really?"  I looked up at him.  "Thank you so much."  

"No problem."  He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his chestnut colored hair.  

I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a tray of chocolate chip cookies that my grandmother had made for my arrival.  "Want a cookie?"  I asked.

Torarin/Patrick and I spent the evening watching reruns of Star Trek and eating food.  I fell asleep at some point, and didn't wake up until Torarin/Patrick was leaving, his grandfather berating him loudly about decency to women and telling him that, though he had said to have fun, it did not mean get someone pregnant.  I had to explain to him that all we did was watch TV.  The grandparents seemed to be a little let down.