You come across a large food court. It seems you're just in time, too, as your stomach suddenly aches with hunger. You think you could go for a burger, or maybe a pizza.
Nah, that's not very fitting, you think. A dolled-up girl such as yourself wouldn't settle for such common delights. You can have pizza any other day of the week, but today you're treating yourself.
You wander the court until you come across a soup and salad pavilion. You wait patiently in line, twisting a curl of hair with your fingers while studying the menu.
"And for you, miss?" one of the workers asks.
"I would like a large cup of the cream of mushroom please, sir, as well as a small garden salad, and a roll on the side." You don't even need to concentrate to use your super-sweet voice now. It just seems to come naturally.
As you wait for the man to prepare your order, an older gentleman in line ahead of you looks your dress over. "That's quite a uniform," he says. "You must go to a rather prestigious school."
The opportunity to chat with a stranger excites you. Time to see how good of a liar you are. "Yes sir," you nod. "Quite the upstanding school, sir. I am humbled to be blessed with such wonderful teachers."
"As well as being blessed with such good looks," the man says. "You remind me of my granddaughter. She's a whiz at science. What's your favorite subject?"
You think. What would a girl like you be most interested in? "Social studies, sir. I enjoy history."
The man's order comes up and he proceeds to pay the cashier. "That's wonderful. I hope they don't push you too hard, though."
"I often have a lot of homework, though it is all for a good purpose, sir."
The man chuckles. "You're a rare kind of girl these days," he says. And you're only how old? Seventeen?"
You want to actually tell him the truth about your age, just to see how he'd react, but you force yourself to lie again. "Eighteen," you answer.
The man takes his tray of soup and sandwich. "Eighteen and already behaving like a grown woman. Keep at it, young lady, keep at it!" And with a slight chuckle, he walks off.
Your order is next. You pay the cashier and take the tray. You find an empty table and sit down to lunch. You tuck a napkin in the collar of your vest so that you don't spill anything on your uniform. You begin with the salad, munching happily. It's delicious. How could you possibly have wanted to eat those disgusting burgers and unhealthful pizza? From now on, you need to eat proper things. And you'd better eat quickly, too, so you can go home and finish all that homework.
You stop chewing. What homework was that? You don't have any homework this weekend. Suddenly you remember a book report due for English, a series of logic problems for math and a chapter you need to read on World War I. Memories of being a high school senior flood into your mind. They're vague, half-finished memories, but they feel so real.
You keep on eating, trying to ignore those ridiculous thoughts. You finished high school years ago. How many years, though? You're eighteen now, so that means it's only been a few months since... No, you're not eighteen. That was a lie you told that old man. Your real age is...
You freeze again, a fork full of lettuce and shredded carrots an inch from your mouth. Your mind is changing. All the things you said to him suddenly popped into your brain as being the truth, and they shoved your real memories away. You can still remember being a boy, though only up until your eighteenth birthday. All memories after that are either of you as a girl, or simply gone. There's a myriad of holes in your recent memory, like who your teachers are, or your friends. Your parents are the same, though, thank goodness for that, but you can somehow clearly recall a recent memory of them where you were with them as the girl you are now.
"How can my mind be changing? I'm not really a girl," you say. When you hear that honeydew voice, you feel unconvinced. You go for a lower tone. "I'm not a girl," you say in a very bad impression of a boy's voice.
Suddenly you're not at all hungry. You need to find out what's going on and reverse it, before you forget completely about who you really are.