Dear Diary:



July 29 - 2:50 p.m.



I never thought that I would be the first girl to attend McGilliam's Preparatory Academy for Males . Well, I haven't been fully accepted into the program but I highly doubt that they would turn down someone like me. Some other girls were accepted into the program but I was the orginal one who got their attention. I have the highest rank at my current school, West Side High School, top basketball and soccer player, seriously tell me when to stop bragging. Okay I may sound rather boastful but you can't blame me. Unfortunately I have to move. I've lived in Chicago since I was a fetus and made the best of friends, but my education will soon be paying off my future bills due to my expensive taste haha. And Diary, I have taken you to almost every place possible and you are cordially invited to tag along but your pages are about to run out and ---



*****



"RING!" how many times do I have to tell my Dad to get a new phone. I can literally hear my eardrums shattering into shards due to its obnoxious ringing!



"Tiziana Ottoman, Get out of the diary and get here now! Did you forget that me and the chicos were throwing you a go-away party. Seriously, its been like forty five minutes and your still not here! Don't make me drag your a--"



"Well, hello to you too Bianca." I said sarcastically.



"Hello my a--" I already hung up on her. The rest of her sentence is pretty predictable, especially with a mouth like hers.



Bianca and I have been friends since kindergarten. She was the short and stout one and I was the tall and fit one. Thing here is that she is a short and stout version of Adriana Lima with thick curly hair past her shoulders. People often would compare us or call us distant sisters; me being the black version and she was a white. She had blue eyes. I had hazel. We both have curly hair and olive skin but we are no where near similar. She loves boys, whereas I am the type who didn't want to waste my time with them. She is the biggest flirt, but I don't even know how to flutter my eyelashes. She is outgoing, and I just sit and listen. She would be the life of the party, and I would be the one in the corner reading Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul. Boring huh?



"RING!" Seriously Bianca, let me take a few breaths of air before you call.



"I'm on my way okay so chill out, B." I exasperated.



"Oh, I apologize for the inconvenience, but is the the Ottoman residence? I'm trying to reach Tiziana Ottoman." Said a familiar male voice.



"This is she." I checked the caller ID and read MPAMSCHOOL Clifton,Washington. Oh snap!



"Hello, This is Dr. Matthieu, the Dean of McGilliam's Preparatory Academy for Males." Then it all clicked.



Dr. Matthieu was the same man who seemed to have a thing against girls joining his school. He was french but looked more like he belonged to the Mafia. He stood a good six feet and had a bald shiny head that looked as though it was dunked into a container of grease; then back again. He had suits that seemed to emphasize his pot belly. His eyes were dark and beady as though he was up to no good. His nose was about as wide and tall as a newborn baby. Everything about this man just looked wrong.



He continued in a monotone voice,"There seems to be an issue in regards to your submission to the school."



"Excuse me. I filled out the whole application and submitted my recommendation letters. You said so yourself."

"I understand Ms. Ottoman, but the problem is one that I don't believe can be fixed without help. In about thirty five minutes you will have company to further discuss the matter with you, so be prepared. Have a good day Ms. Ottoman." Click.



So much for understanding. Plus I have a party to go to. And what problem's do I have besides the fact that I'm a female? God, please don't make it any worse than this.



I reached for the phone and called Bianca. Man was I asking for it.



"Hey B, this is T. About that party" I was talking real slowly so if she interrupted me with her howler monkey screams I would be prepared. "Well I wouldn't be able to make it because I'm having company in about thrity five minutes. I'll refund you and the girls... B? Hello?"



"Yeah, I'm here... In your front yard. Open the door and let us in. We got all the stuff with us."



"What?" But she already hung up on me. I guess that's the benefit of having friends only one block away.



I opened the front door to see a stampede of people come into my house. This was all for me? And who were all these people?



My english classmate, Tyler, came with his touchpad DJ player with assorted wires awhile his sidekick Gregory trailed behind him carrying speakers twice his size. I looked in the crowd to see if there were anymore familiar faces: Waleska, Trey, Michelle, Ryder, Cori, Angela, Jacob and a few others came with food and snacks. The other ninety percent were strangers to my eyes.



Even though the living room was partially empty and a few boxes of moving supplies were shoved in the corners, they figured out how to connect the speakers, music, and set up a table for food as the song "More" by Usher was steadily bursting through the speakers.



Crap. Where is B so I snap her back to who's place she was jamming at. My dad would flip. He is a computer programmer and part starving scientist but gets paid enough to keep up the house my friends and strangers were about to annihilate. For the past two months he's been staying in his basement from sun up to sun down in order to find a way to make an efficient traveling microwave that only required UV rays. But just because he's busy doesn't mean he doesn't keep watch of me. If I say I was going to the library to pick up a few books for Calculus and come back an hour later he would be by the front door waiting for me with a stern look on his face. And trust me my dad doesn't go soft on "punishments". For example: If I lie and he catches me in the act, which most people do, he would take away my books, I would have to make dinner, clean the house, or mow the lawn for a week. I guess when my mother died when I was three years olf from a fatal car accident, he took more responsibility for me.



"Where's your hot dad at?" Bianca asked. Everyone considers my dad "hot". He had green eyes with a blue hue that contrasted with his dark skin. I guess he worked out periodically since he still seemed to have Popeye like muscles. Apparently I get my good looks from my dad but he gets more numbers than the number pi.



"None your business. Who are these people? And I have company in about twenty five minutes!" I was beginning to get aggrivated.



"Chill, they can join too!" Bianca just doesn't have a clue.



"No, you don't get it. It has something to do with my new school."



"What -" But my dad beat her to the punch.



"-the heck is going on here?" He yelled out over the crowd.



"Sorry Mr. Ottoman. I should have told you before hand. We were throwing T a good-bye party." Bianca said batting her lashes at him. "But your daughter said she had more company coming in a few minutes."



"What company?" My dad asked quizzically. And I explained to him about the whole 'problem that can't be fixed without help'. By the time I finished explaining, I only had fifteen minutes left.



"Hey everyone pay attention. Hey! HEY!," Bianca yelled. Everyone stopped dancing and paid attention. "Party at my place, lets go!" A few people protested but most were already leaving through the front door with the food and wires. "I'll call you," she said under her breath and joined the stampede outside.



"Thanks. Now I have an hour worth of cleaning left to do." I said speaking to nobody in particular.



"Let me help." My dad said sounding unenthusiastic.



We cleaned up a good deal of chips and cups off the floor by the time the doorbell rung. My dad opened the door inviting about five males all dressed in tailored suits. They greeted my father with abrupt handshakes and stood at the entryway as if they were on a mission.



"Hello Ms. Ottoman. I'm Dr. Mahmoud, possibly your new teacher. I believe Dr. Matthieu's called in regards to our visit." The first one said in a cockney accent. He was clearly Arabic and gorgeous. Had long dark hair styled into a neat shag, big brown eyes, possibly twenty eight, and appeared to reside in a gym. He continued ,"He told you that there were a slight problem involving you and the other females attending our school. Now the Dean may have partial control over the school but it is still family run. The McGilliam's were curious about letting females attend but a few are subject and debating against it. They said exactly by verbatim that, 'My family has started this school in hopes for male success. Adding a female is too much of a distraction.' He said more but it is not exactly amiable. But we and the Dean want to prove a point that females may be a distraction in school but it also doesn't prepare our student for real world. So we planned something. You can say no but our preference is yes. But if you say yes it would involve a complete makeover and that is what the other guys are here for."



I was caught off guard at how Dr. Matthieu sided with the females but I was confused by what he meant by makeover.



As if he was reading my mind Dr. Mahmoud said,"This makeover involves passing you and the other females off as male to our school. We-" But my dad interrupted him.



"Sorry but that is not going to happen. Does she look like she could pass as a male? And even if she could I wouldn't allow that. This is going to affect my daughter. Instead of asking my daughter you should have been asking me. My daughter was born a girl and will stay that. My daughter -" I cut my dad off, part of me trying to shush him from repeating "My daughter".



"I will do it. Dad, do you know the opportunities I can get?"



"You know how many preparatory schools you could go to? I'm the one who will be paying for your tuition and the house. Do you have any clue how much money that is! I already bought the house and have most of my furniture there. Should have told me this crap before summer." He growled.



"Dad. I really want to go. I have studied so hard in order to get there. I have proved myself once and I can do that again." I begged.



"I don't know. I just don't know. If she did go to your school as a, you know, male, how would that even work?"



I almost forgot that Dr. Mahmoud and his friends were here until he said, "Sir we have the top make-up artist standing right in your house." Males being the top makeup artists? Well it is the twenty first century so nothing new there. "And it would be an honor if your daughter could join our school. I promise you that nothing will get out of hand."



My Dad stood there without moving a muscle. And breathed out a warning: "You better."