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Chick Called Edie

Carrie had always treated me like her little sister, even though we were only third cousins. Though she was only two years older than I was and not of exceptional physical stature, I had allowed her to dominate me for as long as I could remember. Not that she was exceptionally cruel or abusive in any way. It was just that she seemed to realize I was different, long before I myself knew. I could never remember her treating me like a boy. By the time I reached my teens, I was wearing her clothes at any available opportunity, with her permission and no small measure of encouragement. In our secret world, we talked about boys, makeup and fashion, just like two real girls.

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