Ep1: Daddy's Little Grrrl

Her name is Tomasina Boyd. But everyone in Lincoln Heights calls her Tommy. She’s been “one of the boys” for as far back as she can remember, a trophy-winning Little Leaguer, basketball star, and eventually ultra-skilled auto mechanic at Chester’s Garage. No one smacks out a homer or decks a local bully with more confidence than this young lady. But Tommy is 17 now, and everything seems to be changing in her world. Starting with her own body.

For years, like a mischievous, fun-addicted toddler, she had openly laughed at all those over-endowed and pathetically made-up bimbos from the neighborhood who always seemed to be flaunting their pendulous “goods” in order to attract a guy. Now, virtually out of left field, Tommy has grown a pair of sizable breasts herself. And she is anything but happy about it.

“Damn!” the dedicated, but hopelessly frustrated female athlete snorts, glancing downward. “These dumb boobies get in the way of everything!” Annoyed at nature’s surprises but stoically resolved to her sports-minded ambitions, Tomasina begins a typical Saturday morning by slipping into one of her many track suits, which comes equipped with abbreviated, bright blue shorts. Power sneakers complete the formidable picture. Checking herself out in a mirror, Tommy tries to push her female endowments flat against her body, but they stubbornly spring forth again. The teen just rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Daddy always wanted a boy," she thinks to herself, scowling. "Well that's exactly what I am, and then some...rugged, athletic, a great fighter, just the way he was!" Gingerly, Tommy flexes both biceps and flashes her meanest scowl. “Cool!” the young woman beams, instantly feeling empowered by her classically formidable stance.

Chin thrust forward, Tommy slams both fists on her hips and takes a fuller look at her sleek self in the mirror. “Watch out, macho creeps,” TB warns aloud, looking very much like a comic book superheroine with a grudge against bad guys. “Before I’m through, I’m gonna kick your butts – on the sports field and off!” Finally, with an explosion of childlike giggles, a buoyant Ms. Boyd bounds out of her bedroom, down the stairs and into the Saturday sunshine.

It's literally two minutes later. The teenage girl’s legal guardian, a very conservative old-schooler named Aunt Edwina Strictland, is always horrified to enter her niece’s room…not so much because it’s generally sloppy, but because there is absolutely nothing to indicate that it is a young lady's room. Baseballs, footballs, basketballs, gymnast weights, sports trophies, smelly shorts and socks – Ugh! groans the utterly bewildered and turned-off Edwina. But enter this room she must, if for no other reason than to keep a vigilant eye on her tomboy ward's increasingly worrisome shenanigans.

Worst of all is the clothes closet. Almost to punish herself, Edwina swings open the sliding door and regards Tomasina’s “wardrobe” with eye-rolling distain. Uniforms for virtually every athletic endeavor are always hanging proudly, with about a dozen or so track suits kept in reserve. Sports bras, tees, tank tops, shorts, jeans, and denim cut-offs can also be found in abundance, along with sneakers and athletic footwear of every kind. But absolutely no dresses. Not a single one!

Meanwhile, this particular Saturday morning is shaping up just fine, the sun almost shining a glow on the neighborhood and its institutions. Lincoln Heights High School has served East Los Angeles for many years, producing a reasonable assortment of notable young scholars and athletes. Just recently arrived in town for a publicity tie-in is transfer student Randy Starr, a handsome, self-confident professional who has already made a name for himself in the exciting world of car racing. A superb sports champion as well, Randy decides to spend his leisurely weekend morning on the Lincoln Heights schoolyard track, running a few laps to keep himself in practice.

“Starr! What are you doing up this early?”

Randy turns, then grins, somewhat patronizing, at the drop-dead gorgeous young female before him. With the morning breeze blowing her magnificent mane of brown curly hair, Tommy Boyd stands defiantly before him in her seemingly patented fists-on-hips stance.

“Ready to take me on, Daddy Long Legs? Or should I tell your fan club you chickened out?”

Cute. And what a waste, Randy can’t help thinking to himself. This spectacular babe should be making love to guys, 24/7, not challenging them to sports contests and combat exercises that can only result in her looking foolish. Still, it’s precisely these “arrested development” aspects of Miss Tomasina Boyd that Randy finds so engaging, so he continues to encourage them.

“Well if it isn’t Tommy the tomboy!” he playfully taunts. Cool TB just raises her left eyebrow and glares at him for a moment. Then she can’t resist breaking into a huge, challenging, absolutely beautiful smile. “Don’t look so happy, Big Boy!" she tells her haughty male competitor. "In a minute you’ll be eating my dust!”

Without missing a beat both young athletes position themselves at the starting line. Seconds later they are off and impressively running… Hair flashing behind her, heart pumping with pride, Tommy speeds across the Lincoln Heights track like a glorious gazelle, leaving Randy far, far behind. The tomboy wins decisively!

But it isn’t very long before Tommy realizes that Randy has allowed her to win, out of what appears to be a misplaced sense of male gallantry. Feminist instincts aroused, Boyd becomes utterly enraged by this condescending and chauvinistic behavior. She grabs Randy with one fist and is about to deck him with the other when he suddenly lunges forward and engulfs her in an amazing kiss!!

Tommy’s eyes bug! Her mind goes blank! This is obviously the naïve young woman’s very first kiss… and it’s like she’s been struck by lightning. Her large brown eyes flutter, then soon close. Both of her arms, which were just pumping away like pistons, now fall limply by her sides. Somewhat comically, the girl’s moist lips remain puckered, fixed in that position by the impact of Starr's kiss. Randy, bemused by this reaction, holds a finger under her chin for a few minutes, which at least keeps a wobbly Tommy standing.

“I should have known,” the triathlon champ laughs, sizing up his stymied, mostly-asleep competitor. Apparently Tommy’s prolonged adolescence and resistance to romance has thrown her personal and psychological chemistry out of whack, he reasons. Now that womanhood is unquestionably upon her, she is far more vulnerable to a smoothie’s amorous advances than the average, more experienced young lady would be.

“Tommy, Tommy, what a jam you've gotten yourself into!” smiling Randy says with a patient sigh. “You insist on behaving like a boisterous boy, but your body is crying out, ‘I am a woman, fully grown!’” With that, Starr can’t help glancing down at the girl athlete's ample bosom, still sweating from the one-lap race. “And in at least two important places, more than fully grown!”

“Aww, but on the other hand, you’re still just a kid,” Randy finally relents, reconsidering his position with an almost parental tone. Smiling gently, he rubs his hands down the contours of Tommy’s bare arms, then can’t help breaking into a grin. “Ha. Even the peach fuzz on your forearms is bristling, as if the touch of a boy – any boy -- is like static electricity."

Utterly charmed, Randy takes Tommy’s sleeping, still-puckered face by the chin, then looks at the ripe young female knowingly, protectively. “And it doesn’t get much cuter than that, does it? So much for the Amazon crusader. You’re just a scared, stubborn, mixed-up little girl...who can't stay a tomboy her whole life."

Well. Tommy is certainly in no position to argue the point with her smug rival. How dare he take advantage of her romantic inexperience for this kind of mocking behavior, something deep within the tomboy's tortured psyche tells her. It's bad enough that images of this devilishly handsome dude keep flashing through Tommy's entranced thoughts...

Just then, a group of young male athletes running in their direction distracts Randy. “Hi,” announces their apparent leader… a tall, muscular and ultra-confident-looking guy who slows to a stop and approaches Randy and the still-standing, still zoned-out Tommy. “Chad Parker,” the guy proudly announces, thrusting his hand out for Lincoln Height’s newest arrival to shake.

“Randy Starr,” declares Randy in a friendly, confident voice. “I’m new in Lincoln Heights, as you’ve probably figured out.”

“Right,” grins Chad, casually sizing up a potential field rival. “I’ve heard a little about you, man. Track, basketball, gymnastics, car racing. Apparently you’re someone we’re gonna have to take seriously.”

Randy smiles, shrugs slightly.

“Mmmmmm,” sleeping Tommy moans, distracting both boys as they glance in her direction. Focusing on her for the first time, Chad makes a face. “What are you doing with this local embarrassment?”

“Oh, no, nothing much,” Randy smiles. “She challenged me to a race, so I thought I’d have a little fun.  She’s kinda cute in a geeky, tomboy sort of way.”

Chad has palpable contempt for the sporty female. It’s pretty clear that girls who indulge in boyish behavior are offensive to his inherent macho sensibilities. “Hey listen,” he tells Randy agreeably, changing the subject. “A bunch of us jocks are getting together at a party my girlfriend is throwing tomorrow night. We expect to have a few well-known sportscasters and even some major league agents milling about. You might find it fun.”

“Yeah,” Randy responds amiably, interested. “Sounds it.”

“Marcia Sloan. That’s the Sloan Estate on Flint Street. Can’t miss it.” Chad can’t help laughing at his own seemingly innocent comment. “I say you can’t miss it because it takes up the whole freakin’ block!”

Both guys laugh for a moment. Obviously this Marcia Sloan is quite well-to-do, and boyfriend Chad would appear to be the likely recipient of her financial benefits and connections. “Look, gotta run,” Parker finally announces, ready to take off and join his friends. “We’ll be expecting you tomorrow at eight, if you can make it.”

“Yeah, right, I’ll see if I can,” Randy answers, turning to watch his new athletic “pal” piston off with the other guys. Both young runners wave to each other. After a moment, a sly, slightly suspicious smile spreads across the newcomer’s handsome young face.

“Mmmmmm!” Tommy moans a second time, eyes still shut and lips still puckered.

“Geez, I almost forgot about you!” laughs Randy, turning back to the stationary tomboy. Then he glances at his watch. With a brunch date approaching, the young athlete finally decides on a whimsical course of action. He squeezes Tommy’s nose to break her out of the extended trance!

“Owww!” the tomboy yells, suddenly awake and grabbing her now-sore nose. “Hey! What did you do that for?” Remembering what happened just before she blacked out, Tommy scrunches up her face in horrified realization. “Hey wait a minute – you kissed me! No boy is allowed to kiss me!” Personable, good-natured Randy Starr just waves goodbye and sprints off to brunch.

As he makes tracks, young Mr. Starr smiles, outwardly and inwardly. A macho fellow by nature, he prefers soft, demure, more feminine women as romantic partners. But Tommy the sexy tomboy cracks him up. Sometime soon, he logically surmises, she'll embrace her inevitable womanhood, settle on a good man to serve, and put her childish sports antics behind her.

Well, maybe. But that day sure wasn't now!

Resolved, Tommy Boyd clenches a defiant fist and makes herself a promise: No boy is ever going to immobilize her with a romantic kiss again! She’ll tone her super-athletic body and reflexes to the absolute peak of perfection. She’ll even practice kissing with her nerdy best buddy, Harold, so she’ll be better prepared next time a male opponent decides to lay one on her.

“Just wait, Randy Starr. Next time we meet, I’m gonna get even for that sneaky kiss. That’s a promise!”

As Saturday afternoon presses on, Tommy cruises the neighborhood on her motorcycle, trying to get that annoying Randy Starr out of her mind. But it sure isn't easy, much as a frowning TB hates to admit it. “Okay, so he’s kinda cute,” she grouses to herself. “But that doesn’t mean he has the right to… Hey wait a sec. What can I be thinking? Kissing? Romance? Eeeuuu!!!”

Suddenly the flustered femme catches sight of something that really does put Starr’s handsome face on hold for a sec: it’s local toughs Frankie and Pimples, harassing some young kids. Both of these guys are creepy juvenile delinquent-types, with duck-tailed, unshaven Frankie coming across as the Fonz gone over to the dark side!

Boyd pulls up, grins at the familiar goons. “Care to dance, boys?” she playfully throws out a challenge.

“Hey look, Frankie!” Pimples tells his cohort, loosening his hold on one of the youngsters. “It’s Dyke-Girl, on her Dyke-Bike!”

Tommy scowls at this nasty remark. “I see, I see,” answers low-life Frankie. “Enough with these meddling munchkins… Let’s take Tommy Tits for a spin."

Looking forward to overwhelming their beautiful antagonist (in spite of numerous defeats at her hands), the two leather-clad creeps grin nastily at each other. Then they abandon the relieved kids and stalk toward Tommy.

Big mistake.

BAM! BIFF! POW! With an almost elegant suddeness, Tommy swings into spectacular action, walloping her ham-fisted opponents in a dazzling display of Olympics-level physical dexterity.  “Screw you and this karate crap!” Pimples shouts, winded from the assault. “I’m gonna beat your -- UGGHHH!” A surprise right cross sends Pimples crashing into a garbage can. “There,” laughs Tommy with a sprightly grin. “Something a little more traditional you for. Hope you enjoyed it, Pimp-Man!” Meanwhile, a ticked-off Frankie tries to sneak up from behind… but the tomboy, who seems blessed with eyes in the back of her head, swiftly knocks the wind out of him with a perfectly delivered kick to his midsection. “Awww… tummy ache?” Tommy taunts. “Not a problem. This’ll help get your mind off of it.” POW! Frankie is instantly floored by Boyd’s powerful left hook, which she delivers from the ground up.

A few seconds later, this mere slip of a girl stands triumphantly above the sprawled, crumpled, unconscious bodies of her opponents, fists-on-shapely-hips in a defiant power stance. “Thanks, Tommy… you’re the greatest!” bubbles one of the grateful youngsters. She ruffles his hair, hops back on her waiting ‘cycle and takes off. As Tommy vanishes into the distance, the kid’s innocent expression changes into something more wily. “Man, what a babe!”

Some difference a work-out makes, Tommy muses to herself. Especially when it involves clobbering a pair of local cretins and coming to the much-needed rescue of defenseless neighborhood kids. The young bike driver beams with joy as she zooms through the Heights, thoughts of a certain hot-looking racing star/super-athlete temporarily out of her mind.

Lincoln Heights High comes into view again, only now it seems a small camera crew has been assembled out front. Tommy rides up on her way back home, noticing arrogant antagonist Chad Parker showing off for some admiring visitors in the schoolyard. The tomboy’s lovely eyes twinkle… here’s an opportunity for more fun!

“As Lincoln Heights’ most awarded athlete, I feel it is my obligation to set the right example for local youth, especially in these troubled times,” Chad, the “sensitive” jock himself, tells some gathered reporters with deadpan earnestness.

“You’re so full of crapdoodle it’s coming out of your eyeballs!” announces Tommy matter-of-factly, standing behind the reporters with her arms folded.

“Get lost, brat! Can’t ya see we’re busy here?!” a suddenly seething Chad tells taunting Tommy as she hangs around the TV cameras and crew, making funny faces and generally mocking his performance. “Blowhard! Coward!” she finally shouts through cupped hands. “Admit it, Parker… You’re too chicken to take me on!”

The reporters chuckle at this last rally of jabs.

“Oh yeah??! Chad roars back, red-faced. “Well I’m gonna call your bluff, Problem Child. It’s time you were taught a lesson-- the hard way!”

Sure enough, it isn’t long before hapless Mr. Parker is playfully upstaged by his uninvited femme competitor in a succession of strenuous mini-contests. Javelin-throwing, shot-putting, pole vaulting… anything Chad can do, Tommy pulls off way better. And with her clearly defined female physique, she looks more than amazing doing it!

“Sorry, Chad… guess the best man wins!” she can’t help teasing her defeated foe. That tears it. Chad finally becomes so enraged that he actually takes a swing at his mocking adversary! She defty dodges this ungentlemanly attack, then retaliates by punching her stunned opponent right in the bread basket. A sock to his chin sends the heavy-duty athlete sprawling on his ass in front of everyone.

After flexing her cute muscles in triumph, Boyd hops on her ‘cycle and rides off with a trail of mocking laughter, just as Chad shakes his groggy head clear. “Your tomboy days are over, Boyd!” he shouts as she zooms away. “That’s a #@*%# promise!”

Not about to let “some case of arrested development” interfere with Chad’s career plans, he and girlfriend Marcia launch a new scheme to remove Tommy from the local sports scene. They visit her hopelessly old-fashioned guardian, Aunt Edwina Strictland, and pretend to have the young lady’s best interests at heart. All three agree that it’s high time Tomasina started dressing like a female, and that fighting or competing with boys is “distasteful behavior” she should be compelled to grow out of. Impressed with their eagerness to help her unfortunate niece through an awkward, trouble-prone adolescence, Aunt Edwina gives Marcia and Chad carte blanche to do the impossible…”make a proper young lady out of that little monkey.”

Far above it all, an unsuspecting Tommy and her nerdy best friend Harold Pinter are hanging out in Tomboy’s Treehouse, the plucky teen heroine’s version of the Batcave. As rock music plays on the CD, Tommy works out with weights, gyrating to the music. Harold sits nervously across from her, eyes occasionally peering up from his comic book to stare at Tommy’s magnificent, undulating, sweat-soaked chest. “Boy, you should have seen Chad’s face when I blew him away in that shot-put contest,” she beams, reliving her triumph at the school. This mega-hot babe is completely oblivious to the devastating effect her nearly-naked body is having on poor Harold!

Obviously, these two have been pals for many, many years. But it’s just as obvious that Tommy’s no longer a gangly little waif, and Harold has a tough time keeping his very natural male arousal in check.  Whenever the issue does come up, so to speak, Tommy simply rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Like every self-respecting tomboy since time began, she thinks romance is for the birds.

Or does she?

Harold can’t help noticing that the T-babe’s been staring through the Treehouse’s telescope quite a bit of late, and it seems to be more than just a case of checking out weather conditions and sports terrain. Sure enough, when he happens to take a peek through the ‘scope after she’s vamoosed, it’s none other than weight-lifting Randy Starr coming into focus, working up a fairly impressive sweat of his own. “So that's where her attention is going these days!” Harold comments in open-mouthed astonishment. Is it possible that Lincoln Heights’ most infamous and dedicated teenage tomboy is finally, truly growing up?

A question TB herself would probably like answered. Shooting baskets in the relatively empty schoolyard, Tommy’s late afternoon practice is suddenly interrupted by a decidedly rude voice. “Off the court, tomboy!” declares Frankie, apparently itching for another fight. He and his pal Pimples approach the defiant-as-always female athlete. “Yeah,” Pimples adds with a sneer. “You can play hop-scotch and jump rope, but stay outta sports meant for the stronger sex!”

Tommy simply stands her ground, smiling smugly. “Make me, you morons” she responds sassily. Which really pisses Pimples off. But before he can connect with his oversized fist, she’s ducked safely out of harm's way. “Mind I put my best foot forward?” she playfully quips. The tomboy drop-kicks her hulking adversary and sends the Pimp Man flying. “Oh, I can’t believe I said that!”

Enraged, Frankie circles his dynamic foe and prepares to strike. But when he finally lunges at Boyd, he misses, and accidentally wallops a recovering Pimples instead! The gazelle-like female wonder spins, punches Frankie square on the chin - POWW! - and knocks the creepizoid out cold.

Fists on hips, a satisfied Tommy hovers over her fallen foes. “Okay… that was fun” she proclaims dryly, not noticing a shadowy figure creeping up behind her. Suddenly the figure – Chad – grabs Tommy from behind and clamps a chloroform-soaked rag over her mouth! 

Boyd writhes and struggles for all she’s worth, but Chad has a really good grip on her.  Frankie and Pimples stir awake, get a gander at what's happening, then laugh robustly at their opponent’s sudden predicament. Totally in control, Chad feels Tommy finally go limp in his arms. Seconds later, she’s sprawled helplessly on the court before him. “Sweet dreams, Little Miss Sports Star,” Chad grins, now joined by the laughing delinquents. “When you wake up, it'll be a whole new ballgame!"

Oh, no!  Have Tommy Boyd's chauvinistic enemies managed to outsmart and outmaneuver her?  Will they be free to dominate Lincoln Heights athletics and terrorize defenseless kids with their arrogant, bullying ways, while she's forced to dress and behave like (gulp)... a girl?

CHECK OUT EPISODE #2: "MAKEOVER TAKEOVER"