You're hopelessly overwhelmed. It's time for a strategic retreat. "Gomen, gomen...ahh... prease excuse." You take an isntinctive step back from the three girls. "Need to fish...fish up?" You tried to use an American phrase you've heard in movies, but it suddenly fell out of your head. "Use bathroom," you state plainly in your thick accent. You're so embarrassed you feel like your cheeks are on fire.
Amber smiles kindly. "No problem!" She says. You frown. Was there a chance this was a problem? Why'd she say it like that? Oh, of course. That's a common way of saying "Okay" around here. You really need to get away from everyone and calm down.
You nod and thank your si-- neighbor and follow where she's pointing. You enter a small room with a sink and toilet just off the hallway. You shut the door and sigh, leaning over the sink counter. You check your hair out of habit. Though you've worn it loose and spent a while outside, the black locks don't look too out of place.
But when you look directly into your eyes, you're suddenly hit with a cold splash of reality. These aren't your eyes. That isn't your hair. This isn't your body!
The fog in your head blows away and, for the first time all afternoon, you truly recognize how wrong you look. You should be seeing the reflection of a boy younger than Amber, but you have the body of a Japanese teenager. You tug the hair. It's not a wig, it's attached directly to your scalp. These mounds on your chest are frighteningly real. As you squeeze them, you feel your hands cupping them through the fabric of the yukata.
A bitter thought makes the girl's face flinch. You realize your mission to infiltrate your sister's sleepover is a raging success. You've found yourself in the perfect disguise... a way too perfect one.
"Okay, stay carm... concentrate...," you whisper, noticing how well-trained your accented voice has gotten. You try to speak in your normal voice. "I'm not a giru. A girr...ul." You repeat the word several times, but can't quite get it right. No matter how hard you concentrate, the accent forces its way out.
You want to run up to your room, lock the door, and spend the rest of the night in there trying to get yourself back to normal. But it seems hopeless. Perhaps the best thing to do is play along with the sleepover and then go back to the neighbor's house tomorrow. Surely if her clothing has changed you, she has other clothing that can change you back. Maybe she was even doing it to you on purpose! She sure acted suspiciously, first by offering you free clothes and then by helping do your hair and makeup. Was the magic actually affecting her, or was it an act to subdue you?
Too many questions... none of which can be answered in here. You've got to make a decision.