Paul's mother soon joined him in his now ultra feminine, girl's room and announced his bath water was almost ready for her sweet little girl. Paul grimaced, but didn't fight or argue as his mother unzipped the back of the dress allowing him to be free of the delicate prison of silk he'd been wearing since his mother's ballet class.
'The box in the dance studio,' thought Paul trying to piece together what had caused him to turn into a little girl. 'That's right, I accidentally dropped the medallion in the box of spare leotards, and - and...' However, as Paul slipped into the warm bath water, his concentration seemed to slip too.
Later that evening, as Paul lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, he again attempted to remember what had happened to transform him into this freak of nature. Suddenly, he heard a creak at his bedroom door and closed his eyes tight, but soon after the sound past by his room and he felt safe enough to re-open his eyes and continue to think; yet, as he lay there, he began to think of how nice it'd been to close them in the first place. Soon Paul was fast asleep.
The next day, Paul and his mother went back to the dance studio for his mother's advanced class. In Paul's opinion this gave him the greatest opportunity he had to find the medallion and return at least half way back to normal. Although, as he and his mother walked inside, he was cornered by one of the girl's in his mother's beginners class, a nine-year-old by the name of Chan Misho, and before he knew what to think, she grabbed hold of his arm and started to drag him toward an empty room, while assuring his mother that she only wanted to help catch little Paula up on some of the basic steps that she didn't know yet for class.
"What is going on here, Paul?" she asked with little resolve in her voice.
"Paul...? You mean you actually know who I am?" he said somewhat relieved to hear that he wasn't going crazy.
"I know who you truly are, but what I don't know is why you are like this. I mean, that medallion wasn't meant for you. It was meant for someone else to pick up."
"You know about the medallion and what it did to me...? Then why didn't you say something yesterday when it first started?" he began to shout angrily.
"Quiet."
"QUIET yourself, Chan! You let this happen to me."
"I'm, I'm sorry alright, but there isn't anything I can do now. My mother gave that necklace to me yesterday to leave for my cousin. She said that it would teach him a lesson he soon wouldn't forget."
"What was the lesson?" asked Paul regretting that he'd yelled at her and almost wishing he'd not hear what he thought she was about to say.
"It was meant to turn him into a four-year-old girl then disappear before he could change back. He'd be stuck that way the rest of his life, at least..." Chan began to fidget with her hair as her voice softened into barely a whisper.
"At least... What?" prodded Paul trying to receive the rest of the information from her.
"At least until he got married and had a kid, a sweet adorable baby girl. Then soon after that happened, he'd become - would have another person's soul transported into it and he'd..." Again, Chan's voice died down and Paul had to lean in to even hear what she was saying. "...He'd become..."
"Become what, Chan?" asked Paul, a knot tightening in his stomach.
"...That baby girl and the cycle would start all over again. He'd be trapped as a girl and everything around him would conform to that new identity. I mean, no one would remember him ever being a boy or even being a man and eventually after three days he himself won't remember ever being a boy again either."
Paul staggered back before finally speaking in a gasp. "Please, Chan, tell me there is a way of reversing this, this screw up."
Quietly, Chan shook her head. "I'm sorry but Paul can never return. The medallion which has done this is no more. Once it's been used, it destroys itself until no trace remains."
"So I'm trapped like this?" Paul shouted angrily.
"Yes, but that isn't the saddest thing about it. Tomorrow afternoon, you won't ever remember being a boy. You won't even remember we had this conversation. You'll be sweet little Paula Anne Miller, a four-year-old girl who just started taking beginner classes at her mother's dance studio; when she hasn't even had a single day in primary school."
Paul collapsed to the floor crying hysterically.