Chapter 2

Sandy was amazed at how quickly two weeks of preparation went. Every day after work she'd race home to put together her personas, and then proceeded to test them against an initially extremely amused Megan.

"You look like the Karate Kid." Megan smirked after Sandy had tried an outfit she thought was particularly masculine. She had gotten her hair cut in what she thought was an appropriately short style and wore a T-shirt along with loose fitting jeans.

"So, that's good, right?" Sandy asked expectantly.

"You look ... like the Karate Kid. Which means you look like you're about sixteen." Megan amplified, her eyes roaming up and down over Sandy. "I still think this idea is crazy, and honestly you still kinda look ... well, like a girl trying to look like a guy."

"I'm working on it." Sandy shrugged, "What's giving me away?"

"You look ... too ... too cute. You know, that whole teen pop idol thing." Megan explained.

"So, look ... uglier?" Sandy screwed up her face, twisting her upper lip and lower lip in opposite directions.

"Aaaaand now you look like Elvis." Megan laughed. "I thought you were going to try stubble or something."

"Yeah, the stuff I had just makes my face look dirty." Sandy shrugged. "So I decided to go with the clean shaven, all the time."

"Ok, if you're going to do that, you can't have the messy hair." Megan pointed out.

"Ok, so, slicked?" Sandy suggested.

"Try it."

It was a much better look, Sandy decided after several quick attempts in the bathroom. When she returned to the main room with the change, Megan nodded appreciatively.

"Ok, now ... well, you look like a guy who spends way too much on product. You know, one of those Metro..." Megan struggled momentarily for a word before she settled on, "guys ... I suppose."

"Step in the right direction." Sandy grinned. "Just have to work on looking like I care less."

Looking like she cared less was much harder than Sandy had supposed. Taking less time with her appearance made her look more like a woman, whereas taking too much just amplified the metro look. She took every opportunity to scan the internet for techniques, trying each one in the mirror to varying degrees of success. Eventually, she achieved what she felt was a desirable visage. It looked young, admittedly, but the first thought that someone would have upon seeing her would be "Kid Brother."

She continued to practice, trying for that particular air of social awkwardness that she often saw among gamers. Just enough so that she wouldn't be expected to have any major conversations outside of gaming. That, after all, was what she was aiming for.

Sandy's plans had been finalized months in advance, but it was still a thrill to click and send off a confirmation e-mail to "Nocturne21" who was going to be her ride from the airport. The plan was that they would meet at the airport, since Nocturne21 was a local, and then drive up the lake to the city where BigCon was taking place. The other person splitting the room would meet them there and they'd hit the convention first thing the next day. Overall a nice simple plan, which ensured that she'd have a bed at least two of the three nights they were staying.

When that Thursday came, the entire day seemed to crawl for Sandy. She had shown up for work half-dressed in her Sand ensemble. It would only be a moment or two to put her hair into place and assemble the last touches. As it was several people commented on her "new look" and it was rather awkward to try to explain that it was only for the convention and that she'd be back to normal come Monday. Each phone call seemed to take forever, and the endless emails continued to pile up, one upon the next. For a moment, Sandy dreaded that she might have to work overtime to catch up with the workload, and miss her flight, before things finally settled down back into the dull minute to minute clock checking.

When four finally came, Sandy wasted no time clocking out and grabbing her two bags. She had planned to take a cab from work to the airport, and so had brought everything with her to the office. She made a quick stop at the bathroom to put the final touches on her hair and face, before heading to the curb outside the building where she worked.

Right on time, the cab she had called pulled up to the corner, and the driver made no move to exit the cab. With a sigh, Sandy pulled the rear door open, heaving her bags into the back seat before following them quickly.

"Airport, right?" Came the call from the front seat. When Sandy merely nodded, the driver made a quick call into his radio, then turned his attention to the road.

"Going out of town?" The driver inquired after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah, just ... uh..." Sandy tried to keep her voice neutral. It was official now, time to be in character.

"Good thing you're leaving on a Thursday. Airport is hell on Friday." The driver remarked, as the cab rolled down the highway.

"Well, I uh..." Sandy tried to think of what to say. No topic of conversation was coming to mind rapidly. "So ... pretty nice day today." The weather. It was better than nothing, right?

The driver didn't deign to respond, merely turning up the radio. Sandy was momentarily shocked by the reaction, before turning her attention to the road once again. Perhaps this was a positive sign. She was being ignored.

The ride to the airport was quiet, save for the sound of classic rock blaring from the speakers in the front seat. After paying the driver, she stepped out onto the curb, retrieving her bags from the seat and turning her attention to the baggage check at the curb. She answered the usual questions with regards to whether she had packed her bags herself, before entrusting the larger of her bags to a man in uniform, who presented her with a receipt. No comment was made about her appearance, once again.

Could she do this? It was almost scary how simple it was to just continue on with the facade. No comments about her appearance, no offers of help, just the assumption that she knew where she was going and what she was doing. She wound her way through the throngs of people, before approaching the security checkpoint.

A chill ran through her as she approached the line of people waiting to have their bags inspected. Here, of all the places, was the most likely spot for a major incident to occur. Her ticket said Sandy, after all, and if they chose to make an issue of her gender, she could be in for a long, embarrassing inspection.

She got into line, and waited patiently, her eyes on each person ahead of her. She watched as a man was pulled to the side, and his bags were pawed through completely, then another was patted down. Her nerves began to flare as she handed her ticket and ID to the security guard, who merely gave them a cursory glance then handed them back.

It was when the first alarm went off that Sandy thought her stomach was going to explode. She had just stepped into the metal detector after placing her bag on the scanner, when a buzzer started to flare.

"Sir?" Came the voice of the bored looking woman with the hand wand. She gestured Sandy to the side.

With a deep breath, Sandy stepped close, and watched as the black wand came closer and closer to her. It buzzed near her chest, then near her stomach, then was silent once again as the woman passed it across Sandy's body.

"Can I get you to take off your jacket, Sir?" The woman spoke with the bored resignation of someone who did this time after time. The words almost didn't register on Sandy for a moment, before she realized what it meant. The ZIPPER! The metal Zipper on her black leather jacket was setting off the alarm.

Trying to stay as casual as her nerves would allow her, Sandy slipped the jacket off of one arm, then the other, and handed it to the guard, who immediately proceeded to place it on the x-ray scanner. The procedure with the wand was repeated, and this time no buzzing registered. With a final inhalation, Sandy collected her items off the far end of the conveyor belt and slid back into her jacket. She noticed that she was shaking slightly as she did so, and hoped that the security guards had not noticed. When no further challenges occurred, she stepped out of the far end of the checkpoint, a considerable state of relief beginning to settle over her.

She had been called "Sir."

A smile began to cross her face, as she felt the tension beginning to drain out of her. It wasn't the most elegant of first tests, but it would serve. Bored security guards had been fooled by the illusion, at least enough to pass her by. For an instant, Sandy thought about terrorists and if it was this easy for her to get past...

She banished the thought quickly. Time to find her gate. She walked down the center line of tile, eyes scanning gate numbers. After a few hundred feet, she finally spied the one that she was looking for, and took her seat in the waiting area.

After the first experience, the rest of the trip was fairly simple. Stand in line, get on the plane, find seat, ignore person next to you by putting on headphones, land, wait for deboarding.

It was only when she found herself walking down the Jetway that Sandy began to feel anxious again. She knew that Nocturne21 would be waiting at the gate with a sign, but other than that she knew nothing about the guy. He was nice enough, and was a cosplayer, but she hadn't bothered checking out the costume site links he had sent her. Cosplay tended to bore Sandy, and guys usually looked the same. Tubby guy in a long coat, usually with the hair done in some unusual style. Rather dull after the hundredth time.

Which was why it was a pleasant surprise to discover a rather good looking young man holding a sign reading "Sand" outside the gate. The first thing that Sandy noticed was the very large cup of coffee in the man's free hand, and the constant sips he was taking from it. He wasn't much taller than she was, but considering the boots she was wearing as part of her masquerade, that wasn't much of a surprise. The dirty blonde hair was a surprise, as was the lack of the typical flab. If this was Nocturne21, she was suddenly regretting not taking the opportunity to check out his pictures.

"Yo." She raised her hand, waving in his general direction. "You Nocturne."

"Yeah, and it looks like I'm out 20 bucks." He smirked, spinning the sign he had been holding into the nearest trash can.