Chapter 1
Secure Haven Academy
Chapter 2
Done deal
Chapter 3
Orientation
Chapter 4
Classes
Chapter 5
More classes
Chapter 6
Time with the shrink
Chapter 7
The hard questions
Chapter 8
A talk with Reagan
Chapter 9
Other resources
Chapter 10
Two or three days till…
Chapter 11
The day of reckoning
Chapter 12
Mixed emotions
Chapter 13
Making friends
Chapter 14
Wearing the clothes
Chapter 15
Changes
Chapter 16
The big move
Chapter 17
Roommate
Chapter 18
The rush up to Thanksgiving
Chapter 19
Home for Christmas
Chapter 20
Coming out
Chapter 21
Grandma loves it

 

Chapter 1
Secure Haven Academy

   I can’t say that I was an average boy. Not that I was a sissy or anything, but all the macho bull crap my middle school classmates seemed to think was cool just didn’t set with me. Oh sure the girls in class were starting their journey to womanhood and I could appreciate them as well as the next guy. But the guy talk that went on in the restroom about what they’d like to do or who they’d do it to I found repulsive; even disrespectful. They didn’t show any respect for the girls at all. One of them even said, “Every girl’s a slut until proven otherwise,” and all the others high-fived him. I didn’t.

   Because of that and that I was less than diligent in visiting the barber leaving my hair over my ears as opposed to the buzz cut or crew cut the rest of the school favored I found myself on the receiving end of some derogatory comments. It never got physical, but don’t believe the old axiom, “Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will never hurt you.” Words can be cutting and hurt deeper than anything they could do physically. Sixth grade was particularly bad on that score. I found myself fighting tears a couple of times a week.

   My mother was somehow attuned to that even though I thought I did a good job of hiding it from her. I heard her talking with dad about it.

   “Charlie, we’ve got to do something Blair is having a lot of trouble this year. It’s only going to get worse if we don’t do something.”

   “I agree hon, but really… ‘Secure Haven?’ You know what they say about that school,”

   “Yes, I know but really don’t you think that would be the best thing for him? The whole school is geared toward boys like him. He’s far too gentle to survive seventh and eighth grade, let alone high school.”

   “I know but he’s my son…”

   “He’s my son too. And he’s suffering. His grades are suffering. He used to love school, before middle school. Face it; he’s not like other boys. As much as it’s drastic move, I believe he’ll be happier in the end. You know in this day and age, it’s quite common. It’s not like it was in your day. The lines aren’t so ridged anymore.”

   “OK, OK call them and see how much it will set us back. It can’t be any more than the military school we looked at last year.”

   “Military school would have been a disaster and you know it.”

   I was relieved when school let out. I had no idea what this “Secure Haven” thing they were talking about was. My guess was it was a boarding school. But dad seemed to have some reservations about the school. I had no idea why. I didn’t know they had considered a military school. I’m sure that Mom was right; it would have been a disaster. Military school had to be full of that same macho BS as my school, except that the staff would have lined up at the head of the column leading the macho charge.

   It was nearly the end of June when I noticed some mail with the return address of “Secure Haven Academy.” It was one of those 8×10 manila envelopes that businesses send out. When dad came home from work, he and mom retreated to dad’s office and closed the door, taking the envelope with them.

   That got my curiosity up. So the next day when they were both gone, I did a no-no. I went into dad’s office when neither he nor mom were there. It’s not like they keep anything in there that I shouldn’t see or anything secret, it’s that it’s dad’s personal space. I found the manila envelope. It was lying on his desk, next to the computer.

   Inside was a letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Lawson. I didn’t read that. I was interested in the brochure that was under it.  

   Secure Haven Academy is a K-12 school
   for gentle boys. We pride ourselves
   on providing a secure environment
   where gentle boys can thrive and
   explore their own identity without
   peer pressure making them feel
   ostracized as often happens in
   public schools. If you feel your son
   is out of step with his peers and
   being unreasonably pressured
   by them to be something he’s not
   Secure Haven Academy could easily
   be the answer to this dilemma.

   Here he will explore his full
   potential; discover his true self.
   The result being a happier overall
   person; secure and confident in their
   presentation. Give your son the
   chance to be true to himself without
   restraint.

   It went on from there to assure parents that the school was fully accredited and all instructors were fully licensed. It also stated that they had large counseling staff and that each student would be assigned a competent counselor.

   I found that to be curious. I know that in high school there were guidance counselors, but the wording in this brochure made it seem like counselor was a synonym for shrink.

   I replaced everything as I found it and didn’t mention to mom and dad that I’d seen the brochure. I had to wonder, dad said something about, “what they say about that school.” I went to my room and fired up my laptop and did a search on Secure Haven Academy. The school had a website and looking it over it was just more of the same as the brochure. I focused on reviews.

   Most were positive, but there were two that were troubling. Though I wondered if I should take them seriously. The positive reviews were all from either parents or former students. The negative reviews were from expanded family, cousins and the like. They stated that their relative no longer was recognizable as the person they once knew. They were carefully worded so as to avoid libel but seem to hint that the boys in question weren’t in anyway manly. They also said that the school didn’t do anything to maintain gender norms and encouraged students to explore alternative lifestyles. That went along with the other thing that was more than curious; the brochure claimed it was a school for “gentle boys” but in the picture, I didn’t see one boy; a half a dozen or so girls, but no boys.

   I didn’t know much about alternative life styles, but I’d heard of Jazz and the tone of the reviews and the description in the brochure made the students sound like Jazz. Other reviews I found off the official website were saying that the students while not conforming to gender norms did conform to this alternative. As I said, carefully worded so it wasn’t in plain English so that left what they were actually saying up to interpretation.

   That would have given me a great deal of concern except that I could identify with not being “manly.” Heck that was the gist of most of the cutting remarks that got directed at me. I wasn’t “manly.” What did that say about me?
 

Chapter 2
Done deal

   Nothing was said about Secure Haven Academy until one Saturday in mid-August.

   “Blair,” my mother called, “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

   I followed her voice to the kitchen. She was sitting at the breakfast table and had a glass of lemonade and plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies set out waiting for me.

   “Your father and I have noticed that you don’t seem happy in your current school,”

   “You could say that.”

   “We’d like to try another school. One where you wouldn’t standout so much; where you could blend in and be like the other boys.”

   I had to pretend ignorance. Mom had talked to me last year during spring break about my grades slipping. I had laid it off on not being able to get a study partner like our teachers suggested. I told her that no one wanted to study with me. That wasn’t quite true. The truth was that I didn’t want to study with them. Oh there were a few girls that would have made good study partners, but the school discouraged mixed sex study partners. They wouldn’t explain why, but I’m sure that it was because most times study partners would get to get together was right after school and the usual place was one of the partner’s houses. Since in most families both parents worked that would mean unsupervised boy and girl time. Too much opportunity for inappropriate activity.

   “Is there really a school where I could blend in? I mean, we both know that I’m not at all like other boys.”

   “We’ve found one that’s promising. The only down side is that it’s a boarding school; an all-boys boarding school. I’m loathe to have you away from home. But it’s not far from here and if you wanted you could come home on weekends and on all the holidays and school breaks, like for Christmas break and spring break.”

   “A boarding school… that’s the kind of school that rich kids go to. We aren’t exactly rich.”

   “We can afford it. We’ve applied and received a grant that will cover about a quarter of the tuition and we’ve spoken to your grandmother and she’s willing to help with part of the tuition,”

   “But still, do you really think that I’ll fit in with rich kids?”

   “Maybe not if it were a prestigious boarding school like Georgetown Prep but Secure Haven is a much smaller school and they report that twenty-eight percent of all their students are there with financial assistance, it’s not all ‘rich kids’ going there.

   “Plus, Secure Haven targets a particular demographic.”

   “What’s that?”

   “It wants students like you who’ve had a particular problem being accepted by their peers.”

   “I’m a little concerned about the ‘all-boys’ part. I really think it the fact that there are girls at our school that keeps things a bit more civilized. At lunch, I sit close to whatever girls I can. That puts me as far from the Neanderthals as I can get.”

   “The admission policies of Secure Haven don’t allow Neanderthals, so no problem there.”

   I was really hung up on the “all-boys” aspect. I’d looked at the brochure and it looked like every student in the picture was a girl. So how could they be an all-boys school unless they really did make the boys dress like girls?

   “So here’s the deal. We’re sending you there for the fall term. When you come home for the Christmas break, we’ll reevaluate your fit at the school. If you don’t feel you fit in, the school will help find you another school to go to.”

   “So it’s a done deal.”

   “Until Christmas.”

   That gave me two weeks to prepare myself to go to a boarding school. I’d spent some time in July looking over the comments on the net about Secure Haven. It wasn’t easy to come up with but I think I discovered what dad’s reservations were and how it was that the brochure picture seemed to show all the students as girls. There were some people who seemed to think the place turned boys into girls, or at least required them to dress like girls while at school.

   I wasn’t sure about that. The question was, if that was the case, could I go along with it; and if I couldn’t what could I do? Mom said we’d reevaluate during Christmas break. I made up my mind that I’d do my best to do whatever the school required and if it was too much, I’d bail at Christmas.

   I decided that if I was going to be forced to cross-dress for three months, I’d like to know something about it. I found and article at “Go Ask Alice” entitled “Understanding cross-dressing.” I have to admit that with the little exposure to cross-dressing I had, that I had some false ideas about what it said about the person that was doing it. I’d heard people say that a guy who cross-dressed was obviously looking to hook up with a man. In other words, he was gay or as one cretin put it, “As queer as a three dollar bill.”

   But "Go Ask Alice" presented a completely different idea. She (was it really a she writing) pointed out that there were many reasons a man might want to dress as a woman and that in most cases it had nothing to do with sexual preference.

   That just went to reinforce my decision to go to Secure Haven with an open mind. I only hoped that mom was sincere about allowing me to bail at Christmas if I found it intolerable. Then I remembered that my grandmother was helping with tuition. I wondered if she’d heard the rumor that Secure Haven required the students to cross-dress. I was more than a little apprehensive about how she would react when she found out if she didn’t already know.

   On thinking about it, I decided that if Mom reneged on her promise to let me bail at Christmas I’d tell Grandma about the girl’s clothes and I’m sure she’d pull the plug on her part of the tuition. But the question remained, if the school did suit me, then what to do about Grandma, if indeed she did object?

 

Chapter 3
Orientation
   It was the Sunday a week before Labor Day when I got shipped off to Secure Haven Academy. I guess that “shipped off” isn’t exactly correct; Mom drove me the one hundred five miles. The school was impressive. The campus was large and the buildings new and the grounds were well kept. Mom parked the car and we got my suitcase out of the trunk. At the school’s instruction, I had packed a minimum of clothing… barely enough to get through a week.

   New incoming students were to have a week before regular classes commenced. There would be testing to see where we fit in the curriculum and special classes to bring us up to speed as to how the school was run. And it seemed that we would meet with our counselors for a final assessment as to our fit in the school.

   In the main building, we found the admissions office. We were greeted by a woman whom I would guess to be fiftyish.

   “Hello, I’m Mrs. Gates, welcome to Secure Haven. I trust you had no trouble finding us.”

   “No, we didn’t. I’m Mrs. Larson, this is my son Blair.”

   Mrs. Gates smiled, sat back at her desk and entered my name into her computer.

   “Ah, yes. Here you are. You’re transferring from South Meadows Middle School in Hillsboro. You’re looking to enter the seventh grade,”

   “That’s right,” Mom told her.

   “Blair will be in Gloria Harrison Hall. We have seventeen more seventh graders entering this year. We prefer our students enter in the sixth grade or earlier, but it’s not uncommon for our students to try out the public middle schools for a year before coming to us. We are a Kindergarten through twelfth grade institution, but only about five percent of our students start in kindergarten. About thirty-five percent start before middle school. Another ten percent start in sixth grade. Ten percent more come in during middle school. Twenty percent start as freshmen in high school and the remainder join us sometime in high school.

   “The earlier the students start the better they adapt to our style of education. Don’t let that discourage you. Only about three percent opt to go elsewhere after enrolling here. Most of them do so during orientation week. Our counselors are pretty good at finding miss-matches.

   My mother just looked at her as she rambled on while I stood silent content to let my mother carry the ball for the conversation on our end. Mrs. Gates reached into a drawer of her desk and came up with another manila envelope. This one was a 5x7.

   “Here’s your welcome packet,” she said handing it to me. “You’ll want to read through everything in there tonight before you go to bed.”

   Just then, a teenage girl entered the office. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen and was wearing a blue dress with a full skirt and low heeled shoes.

   “Reagan, you’re just in time.”

   “Yes ma’am, I saw their car pull up. I was briefed about their expected arrival time and was watching for them.”

   Turning to me Mrs. Gates said, “Blair, this is Reagan. She’ll be your big sister this year.

   “Reagan, why don’t you show Blair to the orientation dorm.”

   Mom reached out and gave me a hug that would have embarrassed me if she’d done it at my old school. I looked over at Reagan and she just had an indulgent smile on her face.

   “I know that coming here was sprung on you without much warning, but I’m sure this is the right school for you. Try to have an open mind about it and do your best… that’s all I expect of you, to do your best,” Mom said. I thought I saw a tear in her eye.

   “I will, Mom.”

   “We’ll see you at Christmas.”

   Clutching the welcome packet in one hand and my suitcase in the other, I followed Reagan outside and across the campus to a residence dorm. I noticed the name on the building wasn’t Gloria Harrison Hall. It was Amy Garfield Hall.

   As we entered the building, I said, “Ah, excuse me, Reagan, but Mrs. Gates said I’d be in Harrison Hall.

   “That’s next week. All the newbies are in one building until regular classes start. You’ll move over the weekend, so don’t get too settled in here.”

   She showed me to a room. I was surprised that it only had one bed. I thought sure I’d have a roommate; Reagan explained that before I could comment.

   “Amy Garfield Hall is for returning students that sometimes come back to take specialty classes the school offers. Look through your welcome packet tonight. Dinner will be served in cafeteria in the basement at 5:00. It’s like any cafeteria, except the food is better. Just grab a tray and go through the line ask for whatever looks good to you. You can sit anywhere you want. There’s a window near the exit to buss your tray. Lights out at 9:00. Breakfast is at 6:00. You have an alarm, don’t you?”

   “I’ve got my cell phone.”

   “Good set an alarm. Garfield is the only building that has en suite bathrooms. When you move to Harrison, you’ll have to share with the whole floor. Anyway I’ll be by at 7:30 to take you to the orientation assembly. It’s pretty short. See you then.

   Reagan was true to her word. I was waiting with my door open and she poked her head in and waved for me to follow. She led me to another building that turned out to be an auditorium.

   “There are movies here on weekends,” she told me as she opened the door and ushered me inside.

   I was instructed to sit in the center section near the front. Reagan sat near the back. On my own, I found a seat about five rows from the front. There were about a dozen or so boys scattered through the section. As I waited the section started to fill up. I’d guess there were about fifty or so in all. They were of all ages.

   The lights dimmed and the curtains opened to reveal a podium and three adults in chairs behind it. Mrs. Gates from admissions rose from her seat and approached the podium.

   “Thank you all for getting here promptly. My job today is to outline just what today’s schedule will be. Of course you already know that this orientation is first. After that your big sisters will take you to each of your classes. Your first class will issue you all a tablet computer that you’ll need in the course of your studies here. This class will be a little longer than the rest. At each class after that you will spend about fifteen minutes with someone who will go over just what you should expect from that class. There will be five classes in all. After you’ve finished with that, you’ll return to Garfield Hall for lunch and then your big sister will show you to the library. You’re free to read, play games on your phones if you have them or explore the use of your tablet until your name is called for a meeting with your counselor. After your meeting, your big sister will take you on a walking tour of the campus to orient you so that you can find your way around,

   “The rest of the week will be a little different. Your extracurricular class will only be today. You will be on your own to make contact the ones that interest you. That time will be devoted to testing the rest of the week.”

   With that she sat down and another woman about thirty or so came to the podium.

   “I’m Dr. Johnson. I’m the head counselor. I want to assure you that each of our counselors have extensive experience in dealing with gentle boys and that you’ll be in good hands. Everything you talk about with your counselor is held in strictest confidence and your counselor will not divulge it to anyone not even your parents. The only exception would be if they should feel they need to get a second opinion and in that case I would be that second opinion and I likewise will hold the information in strictest confidence. Only if we determine that you are a danger to yourself or others would this rule be broken.”

   Her part was short and sweet. Next at the podium was the third person. An older woman of indeterminate age. She gave the impression as she surveyed the crowd that she was in charge and was used to ruling with an iron hand.

   ‘Oh boy, here it comes,’ I thought.

   “Good morning. My name is Clara, and I am the headmistress of this school. After a few unfortunate incidents, it has become policy for us to have this orientation, because it seems that some parents have either gotten the wrong idea about us, or they have given the wrong impression to you, our prospective students.

   “So let me point out the school policy book that was given to you as you entered today, and make very clear the first portion, so there will be no confusion going forward.

   “What we do here is NOT ‘forced feminization’. The very idea of using dressing in women’s clothes as a punishment is abhorrent to us, as is the idea of trying to make boys dress up against their will.

   “To us, such a thing would be just as bad as forcing a boy who wishes to dress up or even become a girl to deny that desire and ‘man up’.

   “What we do here is give boys the freedom to explore their feminine side in a place of safety, with no judgment.

   “It may be that some of you discover you were always a girl inside, and in that case we have licensed psychologists on staff to walk you through the positives and negatives of a transition.

   “But most of you will not wish to go so far, and there will be NO pressure on you to do so.

   “Regardless of your eventual status, we hope you will find dressing up a joy and a pleasure you can try without pressure, but with encouragement.

   “If you have any questions or concerns, please bring them to me or any of the teachers. We take very seriously the mental health of our students, and will do our very best to help you however you may need it.

   “Lastly, if you find the idea of being feminine completely against your nature, please tell us. As I have said, we are not here to cause harm to your wellbeing, and will help you make other arrangements if needed.

   “Thank you for listening to me and you are dismissed to go to your first class.”

   With that she turned and all the others followed her off stage. Everyone stood and started toward the back where our big sisters were waiting. Reagan fell in beside me as I left the building. She was consulting a tablet that I’d not noticed her carrying before. But it may have been in the purse she carried and now was suspended cross-body by the long strap.
 

Chapter 4
Classes

   “Your first class is in Myrna Crawford Hall,” Reagan told me as we left the auditorium.

   As we approached I could see several others filing into the building. They were paired up like Reagan and I. Each of the pairs had a guy about my age and an older teen. We all ended up in a classroom with our big sisters waiting outside. The teacher’s desk was occupied by a smartly dressed woman in her thirties.

   “Welcome everyone, my name is Laura. Please take a seat.”

   Some of us had already sat down. Those who hadn’t did so. During this process, I took note of the dozen others. They were a varied group. I’d say that most of us looked pretty much average. We could have passed for average seventh-graders albeit the majority of us had hair a little on the long side. The rest had something that was striking about them. The one that really stood out was a skinny kid that had a buzz cut and some bruises that had healed to that sick yellow color bad bruises get as they heal. The rest about four were off the mark for average.

   All had hair longer that would probably be acceptable in most school dress codes. Two of them had hair that went well down their back. Their clothing ran the gamut as well. The least noticeable was a guy who would have been dead meat in my old school. He wore a pastel yellow tee-shirt that had short puffy sleeves and a larger than normal neck opening and skinny jeans. His shoes were white tennies with pink laces.

   The most noticeable was a guy (?) who was one of the longest haired of the group. He wore light blue Bermuda shorts and a button up the front white shirt that was just off the mark too much. There were darts at the chest; the sleeves were puffed up above the shoulders. It had a wide floppy collar, but the most telling of all was the fact that you could easily see the outline of a feminine under garment through it. I couldn’t be sure of it, but he may have had on a little makeup. His lashes were too noticeable and his lips just a bit too pink.

   The teacher continued. “Our purpose here is to set you all up with your tablet so you’ll be able to access the school’s Wi-Fi and LAN. I’m afraid that actual internet access is restricted and a privilege you’ll have to earn. There is a special interface available for you to use email to keep your family up to date on your progress.

   “When I call your name, please come up and get your tablet. They’ve all been programmed for you individually.”

   She proceed to call each our names alphabetically, starting with Mel Anderson. I was the seventh to be called. I notice that a lot of us had ambiguous names that could go either way. That had been another source of those cutting remarks I’d suffered last year. Blair… one of the most vocal of the taunters had a cousin named Blair… a girl. I don’t know what he used, but he glued her picture on my art locker under my name. Whatever the glue was the janitor had to get some special solvent and repaint my locker. That took about a week. The real problem was that she had the same color hair as I did and wore it in a short (for a girl) style that I could have combed mine into.

   I was familiar with tablet computers since I had a Samsung Galaxy Tab 4. I found the on button and the screen came to life and asked for a password. A lot of good being able to turn it on did me. I needed a password. Just as I was about to start guessing possible passwords the teacher finished with the last of us, Freddy Young.

   “Class,” she called out, “If you haven’t already, turn on the tablet by pressing and holding the button on the top right side until the screen lights. It will cycle through to a screen that wants your password. Your temporary password and I encourage you to change it right away, is your birth date. Two digit day first then two digit month and four digit year without spaces, slashes or hyphens.

   I punched it in and the screen lit up with a welcome page. In the upper right corner was the menu icon. Touching on it I found the security option and touched it. A few selections more and I was ready to change my password. Just as I was thinking of good password, the teacher spoke.

   “Anyone who can’t get logged in, please hold up your hand.”

   I think every head in the room looked around to see who the dufus might be. No one raised their hand.

   “OK, remember the more complex your password, the harder it will be for someone to hack into your account. However, it needs to be something you can remember. Personally, I always choose a phrase. Your password must be at least eight characters long, but can be up to thirty. It would be best if you chose to include some punctuation or other special character. The software will reject ‘password’ whether alone or as part of the string and no spaces are allowed.

   I thought about it for a bit and punched in “I’mNotSure1@” as my password. I thought that would be easy to remember and odd enough that it wouldn’t be that easy to hack.

   “When you’ve finished changing your password, put your tablet on your desk and wait for further instruction.”

   It wasn’t long before we all had our tablets on our desk.

   “Alright, class, pickup you tablets and wake it up if it’s gone to sleep. Simply push the button at the top right side of the case. I’m sure you saw the ‘Class Schedule’ option in the menu. Bring that up please.” She waited a few moments. “What you’re looking at is your class schedule for this week. If you touch any of the selections, a maps app will show you a map of the campus. There will be a red dot to indicate your current location and a star to indicate the location of that class. It will also show you the route to get there with a dotted line. Give it a try.”

   Everyone poked around on their tablet. I tried my next class. The map that came up looked like “satellite view” on Google Maps and each of the building had the name of the building next to them. Sure enough, my next class (Student Conduct) was highlighted with a star showing it to be in Laura Cummings Hall, and there was a red dot on Myrna Crawford Hall as well as a dotted line following the pathways between the two. A notation at the bottom of the screen stated 4.75 minutes.

   Using the back button, I went back to class selection page. I notice at the bottom there was a horizontal row of selections that included. My dorm, auditorium, library, gym, and Student Union. I touched on the my dorm option and the maps app came up again with the route from here to Amy Garfield Hall.

   Just then a bell rang.

   “OK, class. Meet up with your big sister outside and go to your next class.”

   I quickly used the back button and called up my next class and I headed or the door. I found Reagan talking with some others in foray.

   As I waited for her to notice me, I studied the map. I’d have to turn right outside the door. I noticed a presence at my right shoulder and looked up. Reagan was there looking at the readout.

   “You going to be OK with using your tablet? I see you’ve got the Nav app showing the route to your next class.”

   “Yeah, I think so. It’s not that much different from my Tab 4 that I have my Nook on.”

   “OK, since you got the Nav up, you lead the way to the next class,”

   I shrugged and headed for the door. At the pathway, I made the right and noticed that an arrow followed my progress.

   “If you decide you need some help with the ins and outs of it, it’s part of my job to explain it. So don’t hesitated to DM me, I’m in your email contacts. I can be available at any time during orientation week. After that I can meet with you during any free time.”

   “I’ll remember that.”

   About five minutes later nearing the entrance to Laura Cummings Hall. There were a lot of kids heading in, in student and big sister pairs. It seemed as if the whole group from the assembly was there.

   As I entered the building the tablet said, “Your class is in room 142.”

   Room 142 wasn’t an ordinary classroom. It was more of a lecture hall. It could have held fifty or sixty students. When the dust settled there were about forty of us. I learned later that this was all the incoming middle school; sixth, seventh and eighth.

   A tall husky-built, blonde woman entered from a door at the front of the hall and stepped up to the podium.

   “May I have your attention please?”

   The class quieted and the instructor spoke again.

   “My name is Ms. Johnson. In this class we will be going over the student handbook you received in your welcome packet. How many of you read your handbook?”

   Her voice was what I would later learn to call a contralto. Maybe a half a dozen hands went up. Ms. Johnson shook her head.

   “I’m sure that Mrs. Gates instructed you to read through everything in your welcome packet last night. I want all of you who didn’t, to read it – and I mean read it, not just skim through it hoping to pick up the high points – to read the manual before you come to class tomorrow. Also bring it with you to every class this week.

   “Since so many of you didn’t read the handbook, we’ll cover the basics today. It should go without saying that you are expected to be in class on time every school day. The only exception would be if you’ve been admitted to the infirmary. In which case you will be able to access the live feed.” She pointed toward the back of the room. We all looked and saw a camera. It was only then that I realized that there were hidden speakers making her easy to hear and understand.

   “Also, you should know that the school has zero tolerance for bullying, verbal or physical…”

   She went into lecture mode and for the next ten minutes she talked about interaction with instructors and other staff and general duties, such as maintaining a neat and tidy room. She also touched on prohibited activities, and interaction between students. After about ten minutes, she wound down.

   “Don’t forget to bring your student handbook tomorrow. Class dismissed.
 

Chapter 5
More classes
 
   My next class was Fashion. ‘Fashion, odd class for a boy’s school, but maybe not considering the reputation of this school.’

   The Nav app showed it to be in the second building to the left. Again it announced the classroom number; 101.

   There were about two dozen in the class. A mid-thirties woman in a very upscale dress was at the desk. When the bell rang she stood.

   “Good afternoon. My name is Ms. Allen. In this class we’ll explore your personal taste in clothing.” She placed a stack of what I thought were magazines on each desk in the front of the rows. “Please take one and pass the rest to the person behind you. When you get your copy, please print your name and student number in the place provided on the cover.”

   Hands shot up all around the room.

   She pointed at one and said, “Yes?”

   “How do we know our student number?”

   “You all have your tablets and I assume you’ve been instructed as to how to access the menu. In the menu, select the ‘My Account’ tab and then ‘Personal Information.’ In the upper right hand corner you’ll find your student number.”

   All the hands went down and we all filled in the blanks.

   “Now what I want you to do is go to each page in the catalog. There you will find pictures of several outfits. On each page, in the box near each outfit, write a number that represents your favorite for that page, with one being your first choice. Two for your second choice and so on until you’ve rated each outfit on the page. Then go on to the next page. I don’t want to rush you, so if you find it takes longer to complete the assignment, you can take it with you and complete it in your time at the library and then drop it by here on after you’re through there.”

   I looked over the catalog. I’d never really looked at girls’ clothing with the idea of identifying something I liked. I had noticed when a girl had on something that looked good. There was a mix of three or four outfits per page and sometimes it was hard to choose a true favorite. I was one who had trouble finishing before the end of class.

   The next class was Physical Fitness and was held in the gym. It was a good walk and it took nearly all the time allotted to get there. There was a large gym floor, pretty much like in any school, only the marked difference was the lack of basketball hoops. Our class was held in smaller classroom. The instructor was very fit twenty-something woman dressed in a white top and shorts with tennis shoes.

   When we were all in the room and seated, she stood to speak.

   “Good morning. Today we are going to go over the options you have to meet the Phys-Ed requirement. We have several options. There’s interpretive dance, ballet, gymnastics and the more popular sports rotation.

   “We’ll start by viewing some videos of the first two options.”

   With that, she picked up a remote and turned on a flat screen TV that was mounted to the wall behind her. It was connected to a computer on her desk as a second display. She called up a video of a gymnastics class. It was out in the main gym and looked for all the world like what you might see in the Olympics. There were four stations, all with performers going through routines. A performer on a balance beam, a gymnastic dance (it was floor exercise I learned later), a spring board and the uneven bars.

   The scene changed and focused on the balance beam. There was a young girl in a sparkling leotard doing an impressive routine featuring handstands, flips and other seemingly impossible things. She finished with a flying dismount which she landed perfectly.

   Next the spring board was the center of attention. This featured four performers each doing a series of flips. I learned later these were called “vaults.” They were impressive. The springboard gave them the illusion of flying.

   Then there was the performer on the mat who danced, cartwheeled, did handstands and various tumbling maneuvers. It was obvious that these girls were top athletes. Any one of them could have held their own in an Olympic event.

   After that, the video went straight to ballet. It started with a single performer dancing a classic routine. Then segued into a class going through mercerizes, first at the bar and then in an open floor with each of the students mirroring the others, and finished with a performance featuring a dozen or so ballerinas.

   Then the scene switched to the gym floor and some exotic music. A girl in a fancy flowing costume danced some sort of dance that seemed to defy gravity as she twirled and leapt around the floor. It was beautiful to watch.

   The video ended with that and the teacher spoke again.

   “Those are all very disciplined callings. Each of them require a great deal of dedication and work to achieve any kind of proficiency. They are each rewarding in their own way, but to say they are fun would be stretching the definition of fun. If you can achieve proficiency they can be satisfying, but not truly fun. What’s up next could be classed as fun, though no less physically challenging.

   “We’ll start with field hockey.”

   She called up another video. This was outside on what looked like it may have been a soccer field or pitch I guess. There were a number of girls all dressed in knee-length skirts and blouses with a kind of hockey sticks chasing a small white ball around in an effort to control the ball and get it into the net at either end of the field. There were obviously two teams as evidenced by the fact that one team had a pullover vest in yellow.

   We watched about five minutes of that. The instructor announced that we would next see tennis.

   That video showed us four girls all dressed in nearly identical tennis whites in a doubles match. We watched a full set. They played really hard. They ran all over the court firing fast, cross court returns or lobs that barely cleared the net and sometimes there must have been some English on the balls because they didn’t bounce the way you might expect.

   Then there was a video of various track events. Mostly running and some jumping. I noticed that none of the events were the kind that might require strength. Mostly endurance or a developed skill.

   “The sports rotation is more popular because these don’t require the dedication that the others do. Most people can attain proficiency enough to be competitive with only a few weeks of practice and some of them could be classed as fun.

   “In the rest of the week, after you’ve all received your gym kit, we’ll explore each of your abilities in these activities. Are there any questions?”

   There were a few scattered questions regarding team sports and if there was any competition with other schools. It seems that due to the nature of our school and the current movement regarding Trans competition in women’s sports there wasn’t any true competition, but there were exhibition games or meets where we would have the opportunity to play other schools.

   The next class was Extra-Curricular Activities.

   It was held in what was called, “The Student Union,” a kind of combination snack bar, recreation hall and study facility. In the open study area next to the snack bar there were various tables with signs on them identifying the different offerings. We were given a list of all the clubs represented and told to note any that interested us and find the table for that and talk to the staff member that was there. We could join a many as we thought we had time for. But we weren’t required to join that day. In fact they didn’t expect anyone to join today, only get information on how to join. We were also informed that if none interested us we weren’t required to participate in any of them.

   There was an extensive list. There were two that caught my attention as must join. The first was Drama, and the second was Chess. I scanned the area and couldn’t immediately see either of them. Closest to me was Science Club. I doubted that I’d enjoy that. I walked down one of the aisles glancing at the placards on the table. Another that caught my eye as I walked by was Music. That was actually two tables set side by side. Each had an additional placard on it. One was Instrumental and the other was Vocal. I stopped and looked at the information on vocal. I didn’t think I was really a great singer, but I did enjoy it.

   “Hi,” said the woman behind the table. Think you’d like to do some singing?”

   “I’m not all that great at it, but I really enjoy singing. I was in some plays in my old school and some of them were musicals and the whole cast had to sing sometimes.”

   “Well then, a choral ensemble may be just the thing for you. We have several groups that are for different ages and actual experience is not necessary. What grade are you in?”

   “Seventh.”

   She picked up a flyer and circled some information.

   “You have some experience, so you probably belong in the intermediate group. Contact Mrs. Grimm. She has an office in the auditorium building on the second floor. You may want to shoot her an email and set up an appointment.” She underlined an email address associated with Mrs. Grimm at the bottom of the page.

   “Thank you, I will,” I told her.

   It soon became apparent that the focus for today was simply to give us information on how to contact the various extra-curricular activities. None of the tables there were anything more than a staff member to answer questions and hand out a flyer on the activity.

   I moved on in search of the drama table I stopped at various tables including the chess table and picked up the flyer. I only stopped at a couple to talk to the lady manning the table.

   I eventually found the drama table. Their flyer had a questionnaire on the back side that gave me a place to list any productions I’d been in and what my role was. They also wanted to know if I’d had any experience in several drama related activities like set building, sound board (for musicals) and if I played an instrument.
 

Chapter 6
Time with the shrink

   As I finished up there, Reagan caught up to me.

   “It’s about time to head for the library. You can come back tomorrow. They will have this set up all week. And there’s a web page in the student access section of the school website that will give you the same information.”

   As we exited the building, I called up the Nav app and it showed the way to the library. It was about a four minute walk, according to the app. On entering the library is was about like any other library. A checkout counter near the entrance and a short aisle that opened into a large room with several large tables with bookshelves behind them. Along one wall there were a number of doors about 10 feet apart. I assumed that they were offices. Reagan chose a table that didn’t have anyone sitting at it and sat down.

   “You don’t need to sit near me if you don’t want to. Feel free to mingle with the other newbies.”

   I decided that I didn’t really know anyone. I mean, Reagan was the only one I’d talked to since I arrived at Safe Haven so I just sat on the other side of the table. It looked like about half of the newbies had made it to the library before I did and more were coming in by the minute.

   I opened up the fashion catalog and turned to the page where I left off. As I rated the outfits one of the doors opened and a youngish nicely dressed woman came out and surveyed the room.

   “Casey Martin?” she called out in much too loud voice for a library.

   A kid a couple of years younger got up and went over to her. They went back through the door. A few minutes later, another woman came out and called another name. Another kid got up and they went back through the door. This time I looked as they did. The door opened to a hallway. The scene repeated itself about a dozen times and then it was quiet.

   All the while I worked my way through the catalog. Each time the door opened, I paused and listened to see if I was the one they wanted and then went back to work. I managed to get to the end of it before I was called. The last eight pages embarrassed me. It was underwear. I mean, why did I need to like one kind of underwear over another.

   I kind of knew what most of it was; I’d seen my mother sorting laundry and she had most of the things in the catalog. What embarrassed me was that the pictures seemed to be of real women or girls. Not full-length. For the bras it only showed from the neck down to just below the bra and for the panties from the mid-stomach to mid-thigh.

   Looking over the selections I was amazed at the variety. There were plain bras with about as much going for it as a plain white tee-shirt as well as what could only be termed as sexy with lots of lace and smaller cups. I only knew what that was because some of the bras listed cup sizes showing obvious different models with different size breast. From that, I could figure out that the part them covered, or in some cases almost covered, the breasts. There were a host of choices between plain and sexy. The same could be said of panties only there was also to option of cotton or nylon.

   I felt like a pervert looking at all that and I could feel my face getting warm. Reagan noticed.

   “Are you alright? You look flushed. You’re not coming down with something are you?”

   “No, I’m alright. It’s just the end of the catalog is kind of embarrassing.”

   She chuckled. Just then the door opened and my name was called. I gathered up my tablet, the catalog and flyers and joined the woman who had called for me. She ushered me through the door and down the hallway to the third door on the right.

   “I’m Dr. Cromwell,” she said, as she closed the office door. “But I like to keep these sessions informal. You can call me Diana.”

   “I’m not comfortable with calling adults by their first names. My parents have a rule about that. If you really want to keep it informal, I could, I suppose, bring myself to call you Doc.”

   She smiled. “Whatever makes you comfortable? Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

   There was desk with a large office chair behind it and two more casual chairs in front. I took the chair to the right and expected her to go sit behind the desk, but she sat in the other chair in front. There was about six or seven feet between us. She reached over to the desk and picked up a folder. She opened it and scanned it for a few seconds.”

   “May I call you Blair? Or do you have a nickname you’d rather I use?”

   “Blair is fine.”

   “So what do you think of Secure Haven so far? I realize you’ve only been here less than twenty-four hours, but I think first impressions have a lasting effect on how we see things and only a passage of a great deal of time changes our view.”

   “It’s not what I expected.”

   “What did you expect?”

   “I first heard about Secure Haven Academy was when I overheard my mom and dad talking last June. Mom was trying to sell him on the idea of sending me here. But dad was reluctant and mentioned ‘what people say about the school.’ Mom convinced him to let her look into the cost.

   “His comment about ‘what people say’ got me curious about just what they do say. So I looked up the school on the internet. The school website wasn’t very helpful there were about twenty reviews and all but two were glowing endorsements. They were written by either former students or their parents. The other two were by cousins or other relatives and were carefully worded negative statements about alternative lifestyles. So I waded through some other sites and finally found a forum where people talked more openly. They use terms like ‘forced fem’ or ‘sissifying’ to describe the treatment of students here.

   “Honestly, I half expected that the school would have a tall wall with barbed wire on top and an iron gate with a guard house. I at least thought that as soon as mom left that I’d be taken to a room, stripped and put into girl’s clothes. But that didn’t happen and then there was the assembly this morning and the headmistress said the school doesn’t do forced feminization.”

   Dr. Cromwell was smiling as I explained what I had expected.

   “So let me make sure I understand what you’re saying. Your research suggested that you’d be forced to wear girl’s clothes without regard as to how you felt about it, but you came anyway. Why did you do that?”

   “When Mom talked to me about it, she pointed out just how much I really didn’t like or fit in with the guys at my old school. She promised me that if I’d try it until Christmas that we’d do something different if I truly didn’t like it. I took her at her word and agreed to try it. It was bound to be better than the military school that Dad wanted to send me to. I’d really not fit in there.”

   “Do you think your mother knew what people were saying about Secure Haven?”

   “Well, I think so. When Dad commented about what people were saying, she didn’t seem to be in the dark about it. I think she would have asked what he was talking about if she didn’t.”

   “Assuming she did know, why do you suppose she thought you should attend here?”

   “I think the brochure says it all; ‘Secure Have Academy – a school for gentle boys. Pure and simple, she thinks I’m a gentle boy.”

   “What about you? Do you think you’re a gentle boy?”

   I hung my head. I was just that. The more vocal of the guys openly called me a sissy. It wasn’t helped by the fact that I refused to use the urinal in the restroom. I always used the stall and if I stood, I got teased, so I sat for everything. I got teased about that too. It just fed the “sissy” label they put on me.

   I became aware that Dr. Cromwell was waiting for an answer. She didn’t push; she just sat quietly and waited.

   “Yes, I guess I am,” I said softly.

   “I can see why your mother thought you should be here,
 

Chapter 7
The hard questions

   “How would you describe your relationship with your parents? You can separate your mother and father, if you feel there’s a need to,”

   “I always thought it was good. My father, I think, is a little disappointed in me, but he’s never treated me badly on account of it. He was there to encourage me and to help with school work. Generally do all the things you’d think a father should do.

   “Disappointed in what way?” the doctor wanted to know.

   He never said exactly, but I think he thought I should be, at least a little more, like the other boys in my school. You know, do sports more, maybe be more aggressive in my relationship with them and not let them get away with bullying.”

   “What about your mother?”

   “Mom’s great. Don’t get me wrong, my Dad is great in his own way, but Mom dotes on me. She always is quick to take my side if there’s a problem with other people and she is quick to offer comfort when I came home fighting tears because of the taunting I’ve had to put up with that day.

   “She has taken time to teach me things she thinks everyone should know. I’ll bet I’m the only boy in our school who knows how to do laundry… I mean sort it and run the washing machine and dryer. I can even figure out the right settings and everything.”

   “You seem proud of that.”

   “I guess I am.”

   “You should be. Is there anything else your mother taught you that most of the boys at your school wouldn’t know?”

   “Well yeah, I can cook pretty good. Mom says that everyone needs to eat and if I’m ever living on my own it’s important to be able to live on something besides TV dinners. I don’t have much that needs it, but I can iron the clothes that need it and I can work a sewing machine good enough to repair a split seam.”

   “Your mother is a wise woman. Many boys don’t learn those things because they feel it’s woman’s work.”

   “It’s just stuff that you need to know to make your own way when you grow up.”

   “I like your attitude.

   “I need to ask you some questions about your gender, but before I do, I need to educate you a little about the make up of the human psyche. In the early fifties, that is nineteen-fifties, Carl Jung, a noted psychologist, postulated that every woman had in her unconscious a soul that had masculine qualities and that every man had in his a spirt that had feminine qualities. Simply put something masculine about every woman and something feminine about every man.

   “I’m sure that you’ve heard of a man getting in touch with his feminine side.” She paused and I nodded. I had heard of that. “That’s what we encourage here; for our students to get in touch with their feminine sides. The question that each student needs to answer for themselves is just how broad, or encompassing, their feminine side is and just how to best explore it. We recognize that there will be as many answers to that as there are students to seek the answers. OK, enough of my lecture.
“Do you understand the concept of gender vs sex?”

   “I’m not sure.”

   “OK then, just a little more lecture. Sex, that is physical sex as in male or female, is defined by the physical evidence of your genitals. Whereas, gender is how you view yourself. That gets clouded by what others, especially others with authority, such as parents, expect of us as well as society in general. In the large majority, their gender aligns closely to their physical sex. But in a significant number of people that fails to happen and they experience a condition known as gender dysphoria. The severity of this dysphoria varies greatly from one person to the other.

   “Now to the question. Have you noticed anything about your personality or personal make up that doesn’t seem to fit in with what’s expected of boys?”

   “Well yes. That was the source of the problems I was having at school. The guys there were all macho. They played contact sports that were pretty rough and I didn’t like them, either the guys or the sports. That and I didn’t share their feelings about girls.”

   “That’s significant. How about the girls at you old school. Did you feel like you had anything in common with them?”

   “If you include the fact that they thought the guys were crude, yeah.”

   “Did you ever wish you could be closer to the girls? I don’t mean physically closer.”

   “I’d like to have been friends with some of them. I’d like to have been able to have one as a study partner.”

   “Why didn’t you become friends with the girls?”

   “They thought I was like all the other boys and the school wouldn’t allow boy girl study partners anyway.”

   “Now comes the questions that require some soul searching on your part. You may not be able to answer this during this session. Do think you have a feminine side?”

   “Assuming that what’s his name Jung is right, I guess I must. Though, I’ve never really thought about it before.”

   “Fair enough. I’ll ask you to consider that and I’ll ask the question again at a later date. In thinking about girls, have you ever noticed or been curious about the different girl’s clothing they wear?”

   “I’ve noticed the clothes and I’ll admit that some of it is interesting, but I don’t know if I could say I was curious.”

   “OK, let’s talk about gender expression. As you’ve observed the students here all present in a feminine gender as the expression of their gender. Are you going to be able to do that voluntarily as opposed to being required to?”

   “I wasn’t thinking about doing it voluntarily. I suppose if I was willing to do it when I thought I’d be forced, I guess I could do it voluntarily. How else could I abide by the deal I made with my mother to stick it out ‘til Christmas?”

   “I’ll ask you to consider that aspect because if you can’t whole heartedly volunteer, we’ll need to start looking into other options for your education. However, in your mother’s application cover letter, she seemed adamant about you being a perfect fit for Secure Haven. Why do you think she’d feel that way?”

   It was my turn to smile. “I think that Mom always thought of me as being softer than other boys. When you think about it, what’s the most obvious thing? Either I’m gay or I’m this transgender thing. Since I had an obvious crush on a girl in the fifth grade, I guess she ruled out gay.”

   “An interesting line of logic. Do you suppose there’s any truth to her supposition?”

   “I’m not sure. I’d like to say no, but with what we’ve talked about today, I can’t be sure.”

   “Alright, let’s table those questions and revisit them in later sessions. At any rate, you have until Thursday to decide about volunteering to express your feminine side by wearing girl’s clothing. Thursday will be the day that they put together a wardrobe based on your choices in the catalog.

   “Thank you for being so cooperative. It makes my job easier when my charges are up front with me.”

   She stood and I did likewise and she ushered me to the door.

   “I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time,” she told me as she opened the door.
 

Chapter 8
A talk with Reagan

   I met up with Reagan and she started our walking tour. As we made our way out of the library she started talking.

   “How’d go with the counselor?”

   “OK I guess. She asked a lot of questions and listened to me answer them. She ended up with a lot of questions that I couldn’t answer, really. Mostly how I felt about a lot of things. She told me to consider them and we’d talk about them later.”

   “That’s the way all psychiatrists do it. Their most frequently asked question seems to be, ‘…and how do you feel about that?’ am I right?”

   I laughed. “Could be. Dr. Cromwell never really asked it like that, but she was interested in my feelings a lot.” I paused. I needed to talk to someone who knew what was really going on here. “Can I ask you some personal questions?”

   Reagan studied me for a minute.

   “Well, they call me a big sister, and I guess little sisters always ask questions of the big sisters that they’d never ask anyone else.”

   “I studied up on cross-dressing before I came here and I know it’s considered impolite to ask some questions, so if I get too personal, I’d like to apologize in advance.

   “When you first came here, did you… I mean you were born a boy, right?” She nodded. “Had you ever worn girl’s clothes before you came here?”

   “Yeah. More than half the students regularly cross-dressed. The rest or almost all the rest cross-dressed at least sometimes. That’s by far the most common reason parents end up sending their sons here.”

   Now I was bummed.

   “Oh, well I haven’t.”

   “You’re not the first. Two students in my first dorm as a sixth grader hadn’t either. But they took to it like a ducks to water. In my time here I’ve only known of one student who stayed past orientation week that opted to go elsewhere. Cross-dressing is something that you either totally love or it creeps you out. Are you thinking a bailing on us?”

   “I promised my mother, I’d stick it out till Christmas break.”

   We were back at the Fashion class and we didn’t talk as I dropped off the catalog.

   Back outside, Reagan asked, “How do you feel about cross-dressing?”

   “That’s one of things the doctor asked that I couldn’t really answer so we’ve tabled the question and will revisit it ‘at a later date.’ I was hoping you could give me some insight as to what to expect from it.”

   Reagan was thoughtful as we walked a ways more.

   “I’m not sure it’s my place to say this, but did you understand what Clara said about it? She said, ‘there will be NO pressure on you to do so.’ That means if at any time you feel uncomfortable about wearing girl’s clothes, you can opt out.”

   We came to the back side of the gym.

   “This is the athletic field. They do field hockey and soccer on this field and the track is used for running of course.”

   It was like a football field, only there were no goal posts. In their place were nets. I remembered the field hockey video and the goals looked like that.

   “Let’s find your dorm for next week,” she said, striking a course for the dorm row.

   She continued as we walked, “I don’t know if my first time experience cross-dressing will resonate with you. I was about nine when I ventured into the forbidden territory of my sister’s room. She was two years older than me and I always looked up to her. Kind of idolized her. I knew she’d not be happy with me being in her room and I can’t tell you just why I went in there that first time. Her door was ajar, a rare occurrence. As I walked by, I glanced in. I happened be in just the right place to see her vanity mirror and it showed me her closet with the door open. Compared to my closet, it was like looking at a rainbow. I mean she had clothes in a variety of colors.

   “It wasn’t like I’d never seen them. I’m sure I’d seen her wear them all at one time or another, but there they were all together on display; I stopped and took in the sight. I was mesmerized by it. I don’t really remember doing it, but I must have walked into the room because I found myself standing at the closet door. I came to myself when I reached out and touched a yellow sundress that she often wore during the summer when she wanted to dress up a little. I’d never touched any of her clothes before.

   “I was taken with the way it felt. It was soft and lightweight. I remembered that it was a little see through and she wore a slip under it for modesty. Something white was in my peripheral vision. It was that slip. Without thinking, I touched it. It was like an electric shock that felt good. I wonder just how it would feel to wear something like that.

   “Then, I thought, ‘who’d know if I did? Mom and Dad are still at work and Emmy, that’s my sister, is at a club meeting and won’t be home until five.’ I methodically stripped down to my boxers and pulled the slip over my head and down over my body. That electric shock tingled all over my body. The sundress followed. I had to see what I looked like.

   We approached a dorm and stopped in front of the entrance. Reagan pointed at the sign above the doors. “Gloria Harrison Hall,” it read.

   “There’s your home for the school year. They’ll put you in another dorm for next year,” Reagan told me.

   She motioned me to follow and led the way toward an open area that looked like a park. There was a small stream that ran into a pond with a pathway the meandered around it. The outlet had a bridge over it and the path continued on the other side. There were benches near the pond and ducks swimming around. We stopped near the pond and sat on one of the benches. The ducks came swimming over looking for a hand out, but we hand nothing to give them.

   “Anyway, I went to her vanity,” Reagan continued. “It was the closest thing we had to a full length mirror. I won’t say I looked like a girl, but I sure didn’t look like a boy. My hair was a little longer than most boys my age wore it, but was certainly too short for a girl, at least any girl I knew of. I put my hands on my stomach and slid them down to my hips. I felt my boxers underneath and it was just wrong.

   “So I opened her dresser drawers one at a time until I found her panty drawer. There was a variety of colors, mostly white but there were also yellows and blues and pinks as well as some print with animals or flowers. Some had lace embellishments. I chose a plain white one and traded out my boxers.

   “I was in love with the feeling of the clothes, but my short hair ruined the illusion. I’d seen a scarf in one of the drawers. I got it out and tied it over my head after smoothing the front part of my hair over my forehead. It wasn’t perfect, but it looked a lot better. All I need was shoes. The floor of her closet had several pairs in neat little rows. She had a pair of fancy flip-flop style with a slight heel. My feet were at least a size smaller, but it didn’t matter to me.

   “After that I made a point of visiting her room whenever I was alone in the house. By the time I was ten I’d let my hair grow out long enough to look like a girl’s hair if I brushed it the right way. Emmy had talked Mom into heels and hose. I learned to walk in heels and put on pantyhose only a short time after she did. It was about that time she started to really develop and most of her clothes demanded a bust line, so I learned to fasten a bra behind my back and came up with some knee highs and cotton balls to make falsies.

   “I was finally caught when I put a run in her last pair of panty hose. I found out then that I wasn’t as good at putting things back as I thought I was. Mom had already researched and found out about Secure Haven. The rest is history.”
 

Chapter 9
Other resources

   Reagan was right. Her story was interesting, but it didn’t resonate with me.

   “I don’t have any history like that. I mean what you said was interesting and I suppose that the feelings you described wearing the clothes might be similar to what I’ll feel, but the rest is like a nice story.”

   “Let me make a call,” she said, and got out her phone. She punched the screen a few times and put it to her ear. “Hey Sammie. What’s happening? … Not much, I’m doing the big sister thing and my little sister is a lot like you were when you first came here. … You live close to the school. Any chance you could drop by this evening? I’d like to introduce you to Blair. I think you could answer some of her questions that I can’t.” I caught the “her” in reference to me. Reagan continued, “Sure, I’ll treat you to dinner. It’s not like it’ll cost me anything. It’s stroganoff night and I know you like that. … OK, I’ll see you then.”

   She ended the call and put her phone away.

   “Sammie is one of the girls I was telling you about that had never dressed before she came here. She’s just hanging out, marking time until school starts. She lives in Corvallis and has a car available so it’s no big deal for her to come for a visit.”

   “You think she can help me learn what to expect?”

   “She went through the same thing, coming in without any experience in cross-dressing. I’ll warn you to take everything she says with a grain of salt. She loves her feminine side and has embraced it to the point of living full time as a girl, even at home. You may not feel the same. All she can really share with you that will count is how she felt the first time she put on the clothes.”

   As we walked back to Amy Garfield Hall I pondered the information that Sammie had come into the school just as I had and was now living fulltime as a girl. ‘Could I do that? Go from guy fulltime to girl fulltime? How does she deal with people who knew her before? She must have the support of her family to do that. If I did it, I’m sure Mom would be OK with that, but I’m not too sure about Dad.’ All those questions occupied my thoughts.

   Reagan left me to read the student handbook saying she’d be back when Sammie got here. I’d only read about fifteen pages when Reagan tapped on the door, saying, “Knock, knock,” and coming right in. She had another girl with her who was a lot more casually dressed. She had on a blue tank top and a pair of white capris. Her shoes were clunky heeled sandals.

   “Hey Blair. This is Sammie. She’s the one I called this afternoon,” Reagan said, by way of introduction.

   Sammie was wearing a tank top stretched over a modest bust and some capris. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. She had pierced ears with diamond studs. I couldn’t say if they were real diamonds, but they certainly sparkled. You couldn’t help but notice them.

   “Hi Blair, Reagan has told me a little about you. Glad to meet you.”

   “Hi, Reagan told me that you hadn’t ever worn girl’s clothes before you came here; me neither.”

   “Well yes we do have that in common,”

   “Come on guys; let’s head for the Student Union. I’m buying.”

   We headed out. As we walked I began explaining to Sammie what I was concerned about. I went over my meeting with Dr. Cromwell. And outlined my misgivings about what to expect, feelings wise. We’d reached the Student Union by the time I quit rambling. Inside, we all ordered drinks from the juice bar.

   Sitting at a table with a great view of the campus, Sammie began to try to answer my question.

   “You realize there are a lot of factors that will affect how you feel or your concept of what you experience the first time you put on all the finery that goes with girl’s clothing. I can only tell you how I felt and what I thought of the experience. Your mileage may vary.”

   “From what Reagan has told me about her background and yours; yours is bound to be a lot closer to mine than hers.”

   “That’s quite probably true, but it won’t be exactly the same.”

   “I get that, I think. So what can you tell me?”

   “Well, I came here without any foreknowledge about the school. The only thing I was told was that it was an all-boys school that had some strict methods of dealing with bullying and that I wouldn’t have to worry about that. These days, orientation is a lot more complex than it was when I came here five years ago. I was given a map of the school and a girl I thought was an office assistant showed me to my dorm. We had a weekend to get settled in. The first thing that happened was, after I’d dropped off my suitcase, this girl took me to the clothing warehouse.

   “She explained that the school supplied all the clothes I’d need and we were going to pick up the minimum wardrobe and that the rest would be delivered to my dorm at the first of the week. Once at the warehouse, I was taken to a room and told to strip to my underwear. When I asked why I was informed it was to measure me. There were women and girls there, so I was seriously embarrassed. But the last thing my mother told me was to do whatever they told me; that I was here for the duration and that I should just deal with it. In my mother’s defense, I’d been failing in school because I had been skipping to avoid the bullies at school and she was at her wits end. I don’t know where she heard about Secure Haven. When she told me she was sending me here she said it was what I deserved and needed.

   “Anyway, they measured me every which way and the girls there were given orders. I was told I could get dressed again while they took off into the warehouse and each came back with a cart full of clothing. I was told there were five outfits which were bagged and given to my escort.

   “We went back to my room and my escort dumped the bags on my bed and told me she’d help me put them away. When she picked up the first dress, I complained that they had gotten me girl’s clothes. That’s when my escort said, ‘That’s what we all wear here.’ I looked at her in disbelief. She informed me that she was a student and it was her job to see to it I was ready for classes on Monday. I found out that all the girls there were students and only the woman in charge was really a woman. I wasn’t told until later that if I’d simply refused, and said that I wasn’t going to wear girl’s clothes that they would have made other arrangements. I thought there was no choice and I had to.

   “My escort’s attitude softened. She asked if I hadn’t been told about the girl’s clothes and when I said no, she told me to just try it and maintained I’d like it in the end. I watched dumbly as she hung up dresses, skirts and blouses put two pairs of shoes in the closet and lingerie in the drawers of the dresser.

   “She left one complete outfit on my bed, including lingerie and a pair of shoes on the floor and said she’d leave me to change. She left after encouraging me to try before I decided I didn’t like it.

   “After she left, I stared at the clothes for a time. Then I thought about what my mother had said, ‘do whatever they told me; that I was here for the duration and that I should just deal with it.’ So I stripped naked and with shaking hand put on the panties. After I got over the sensation of soft, silky nylon covering my nether region I put everything else on. The room door had a full length mirror on it. My mother had not had me get a haircut since early May and it was over my ears when I didn’t brush it back and after pulling a dress over my head it wasn’t brushed back. What I saw was a long haired boy in a dress. I hadn’t put on the padded training bra, so the dress just hung there looking stupid. I move around a little bit causing the dress to swirl around me legs and I liked the feeling.
 

Chapter 10
two or three days till…

   We talked some more and Sammie filled me in on the way it grew on him after he met his roommate. According to Sammie, she had cross-dressed extensively. She showed up with her escort about the time Sammie had decide she could tough it out so long as all the other boys were wearing girl’s clothing as well,

   Her roommate eagerly changed into her girl’s clothes while Sammie and her escort watched and wasn’t shy about it. She gushed about how great it was going to be wearing that kind of thing all the time. When the escort had gone and the roommate calmed down, the roommate noticed the bra on Sammie’s bed. They talked about why she hadn’t put it on and in the end, she did. They went to dinner and saw all the other students in dresses or skirts. From then on, Sammie never looked back.

   Reagan and Sammie left me to it and I went back to reading my student handbook.

   I kind of settled in, but the idea of wearing girl’s clothes was never really off my mind. The classes each followed their own theme.

   IT took us through all the ins and outs of our tablets. I thought I wouldn’t get much out of it, but the tablet had a ton of software that I was unfamiliar with. Some of it was proprietary to the school. Still it was pretty interesting and I had a lot of fun with it.

   Student Conduct was the most grueling. We went through the book page by page; nearly paragraph by paragraph. What’s more there were quizzes every day to see how well we understood what we went over the day before. I was sure that by the end of the week I’ be able to recite the entire book verbatim.

   Fashion became about coordinating outfits; the difference between casual and dress-up occasions; accessorizing each outfit et cetera. The teacher sometimes lectured and sometimes we watched videos. She explained to us that if were natal girls, our mothers would be there to guide us in these things. But since we’d be responsible for choosing our own outfits for each day we needed to learn for ourselves. She did remind us that if we had any doubts we could consult our big sisters.

   Physical Fitness was grueling in its own way, only it was fun. We were issued our gym uniforms the next day and spent the time learning the basics of all the options. The only stressful part was changing into that uniform the first time. It wasn’t particularly girly except that it included a sport bra that seemed mandatory to wear, or so I felt like it was; I mean, none of the other guys balked at putting it on. I didn’t want to be the odd man out, so I went along. I had to watch how to put it on. I felt really strange about putting it on. Oh and I got a look at what it was under that guy’s shirt that I mentioned seeing in the first IT class. It was a pretty lacy camisole.

   Extra-Curricular morphed into testing. Each day we took what amounted to placement tests on all the usual subjects; math, English, history and social studies. Since it wasn’t a pass or fail test, it wasn’t as if there was any stress involved.

   The classes were longer than the first day. They were fifty minutes long. After the testing we went back to the dorm for lunch. Reagan checked on me at lunch to see if I needed any help. It was also during lunch that I got to know some of my fellow newbies. The newbie that wore the lacy camisole was Dana. His … her??? I don’t know; I really had trouble with pronouns that week... I’d met them all wearing boy clothes so it was “he/him” but after Thursday, when we got our girl’s wardrobe and they all took to wearing them… that’s when I began to stumble. The newbie with the short hair and bruises was Harry, but he maintained his name should have been Harriet and wanted to be called that. It seems his father went berserk and beat him up when he was caught dressing up in his sisters clothes.
We had free time until it was time to go for a fifty minute session with the shrink. In my case, Dr. Cromwell. I couldn’t bring myself to call her Diana. We each had specific times to meet with our counselors. My time was three PM. I always went to the library early and spent my time with my tablet.

   “Good afternoon Blair, how’s your day going?”

   “Pretty good.”

   “You mentioned yesterday that in Phys-Ed you dressed down and wore you a sports bra. You said it was the first time you’d ever worn anything in the way of girl’s clothes. Did you do it again today?”

   ‘Yeah. I didn’t know if I’d do it again, but I did.”

   “You realize that it’s school policy that you could have opted not to wear the bra. Clara made clear in her remarks at the orientation assembly. She said, ‘there will be NO pressure on you to do so.’ That means if at any time you feel uncomfortable about wearing girl’s clothes, you can opt out.”

   I smiled and even chuckled a little.

   “What got you tickled?”

   “Reagan said the same thing on Monday.”

   It was her turn to smile. “I guess it’s kind a canned speech. But getting back to wearing the bra. You said yesterday that everyone else just put theirs on and you didn’t want to be the odd man out. As I remember, I mentioned then that it would have been alright if you hadn’t. Take a moment to consider the school policy and then tell me how you feel about wearing the bra.”

   I wasn’t sure what to say, I was well aware of the school policy. I knew at the time, both times I could have simply left it off. I was concerned about making the others feel bad by not putting it on. Actually, I only thought about it when I was putting it on and taking it off. The rest of the time, I just did what everyone else did without considering what I was wearing. Come to think about it, that’s what I did when I put it on. I just did what everyone else did. She didn’t ask why I put it on; only how I felt about it, but I felt the need to explain myself.

   “Like I said, I didn’t know after that first time if I’d do it again, but when we went to the dressing room, it just seemed to be the thing to do.”

   “How did you feel about wearing it?”

   “At the time, I didn’t feel anything. I just went to class and did the things the coach told us to do. I had fun doing all that stuff.”

   “What about now, after the fact? How do you feel about it now?”

   “It’s no big deal really. I was just a piece of clothing.”

   “Do you think you’ll wear it again?”

   “I suppose so. Everyone will think it’s pretty strange if I suddenly stopped wearing it after two days.”

   “Does it make a difference if they think you’re weird?”

   “I want to be friends with them. So I’ll just go along.”

   “Didn’t you tell me that at your old school you didn’t want to be friends with any of the guys?”

   “Well, yes, but those guys are a bunch of macho jerks. Everyone here isn’t like that at all. There’s something about them that makes me want them as friends.”

   “Do you feel that somehow you fit in here, where you didn’t at your old school?”

   I considered that. I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. I didn’t understand it, but to spite the fact that all of the other students I’d met had cross-dressed prior to coming here and I hadn’t; hadn’t even considered it, somehow I did fit in.

   “I don’t understand how, but yes in some way or another, I think I do fit in.”

   For the rest of the session, we delved into my feelings about fitting in with cross-dressers and my opinion about cross-dressers prior to coming here. The fact was that I really didn’t think about it before. She wanted to know if I was of the opinion that cross-dresser were gay. I didn’t hold that opinion or any opinion at all, so I told her no and that all I had to base that on was the fact that I’d met Reagan and Sammie and while I had no basis to determine Reagan’s sexual preference, I did feel that Sammie was hetero because she talked about girlfriends from her hometown and since she hadn’t cross-dressed before coming to Secure Haven…

 

Chapter 11
The day of reckoning

   Each day I became more comfortable with my surroundings; that is until lunch time on Thursday. As was my habit I went back to my room to drop off my student handbook and any papers I’d collected through the day. It never occurred to me to lock my door. I didn’t have anything of value that the school hadn’t issued me and somehow I felt that the others in my dorm were honest. But it was a surprise to find a roll-around rack full of girl’s clothes just inside the door. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Dr. Cromwell told me that Thursday was the day I’d get the clothes.

   I stood there with the door open staring at the rack. I heard from across the hall, “I love it, I love it.” I turn around to see my across the hall neighbor holding a dress to himself and dancing around his room. Not sure what I should do, I closed the door and sat on my bed. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the situation. Today was the day. ‘I could opt out they told me… If I exercise that option they’ll “make other arrangements.” Do I want that?’ I was sure that didn’t mean I’d be granted an exception. I was sure that they would find another school that might work. I couldn’t envision another school that would work for me. An all girl’s school was out. I clearly wasn’t a girl. Another all-boy’s school couldn’t foster the kind of environment that would accept “gentle boys” like Safe Haven. That left a coed school and I couldn’t see how it could be any different than my old school. No it was this school on their terms or nothing.

   Caught on the horns of that dilemma I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. There was a knock at the door. It had to be Reagan. She always checked with me at lunch. Normally, I’d just drop off what I wanted to leave and boogie down to the cafeteria and get some lunch. That’s where she usually found me; I’d been stuck here unable to do anything.

   I found my voice. “It’s open, come on in,” I called out.

   She opened the door and stepped in leaving it open. She just stood there. I tore my eyes off the rack and looked at her. She was smiling a gentle, friendly smile.

   “I thought I’d find you here like this. I knew this,” she indicated the rack of clothes, “would be here. Given your background I’m not surprised that you’re just looking at it.”

   Out in the hall, I could see my fellow students in various dresses and hear them talking about how cool it was to be able to wear them all the time. I looked back at the clothes. ‘Can I do it? Can I put on a dress, the lingerie, the whole get- up and think it’s cool?’

   “Would you like some help putting them away. There’s a lot of them so it’ll take a while. Most of the other students just picked out an outfit, changed and headed down to lunch.”

   I just nodded.

   “Look there no hard fast rule here. You can go to lunch like you are and deal with it after you eat.”

   I looked a Reagan and asked, “I’d probably be the only one to do that, wouldn’t I?”

   “I imagine so. I think everyone else was looking forward to today and can’t wait to start dressing like a girl.”

   I nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. I’d really stand out at lunch and then after, I have to either change then or tell Dr. Cromwell I need them to make other arrangements.”

   “Yes, there is that.”

   “I think I like what Safe Haven stands for. Sammie adapted so I guess I can too.”

   “OK, so which is it? Change now or after lunch?”

   “I think now, only I don’t know what to do.”

   “How about I help you pick out an outfit?”

   “OK.”

   She closed the door and went to the rack. “What we want is something casual. I saw some of the students all glammed up like they were going to a party or something. I think they’re just over compensating for all the years they couldn’t dress. You don’t have that going on, so how about this,” she said, holding up a dress.
It was a simple blue print dress that had a full skirt and short sleeves.

   “OK.”

   She laid it on the bed next to me. There was a couple of bigger boxes on the shelf at the bottom of the rack and several smaller ones about shoe box size. She opened one box and looked inside. She retrieve a bit of white shiny cloth and from the other, what was without a doubt a bra. Then looked the dress went back to the first box and pulled out another shiny, but larger piece cloth, trimmed in lace. She bunched up all that and handed it to me.

   “The dress is a pullover. If you put the bra around you waist with the catch in front it’s pretty easy to fasten it, then you can turn it around and put the straps over your shoulders. Why don’t you go into the bathroom and change? Put on the panties and half-slip first and then if you have any trouble with the bra, you can call me and I’ll help.”

   I clutched the lingerie to my chest and picked up the dress and went to the bathroom. I hung the dress on the hook on the inside of the door and put lingerie on the counter.

   ‘This is it,’ I thought. ‘Here’s where the rubber meets the road.’

   Reluctantly, I slowly stripped. I picked up the panties and studied them. Tighty-whities had the Y front and were easy to tell front from the back. I noticed that one part had more fabric than the other. ‘That has to be the part that covers the butt.’ I stepped into them and pulled them up. I now understood what Sammie meant about getting over the sensation of the nylon panties. It was a sensation like I’d never felt before. My breath quickened and I felt naughty and that was kind of exciting. ‘Boys aren’t supposed to wear these,’ The half-slip didn’t seem to have a front or back, so I put the seams at the side and pulled it up the elastic waist band to just above the waist of the panties. The feel of nylon sliding over nylon was intoxicating; that is, it heightened the sensations and the sense of being naughty, a delicious kind of naughty.

   I then studied the clasp on the bra. After clipping and unclipping it a few time, I wrapped it around my waist like Reagan said and hooked it. I turned it around and struggled a little but managed to get the straps over my shoulders. I wasn’t a total doofus about bras. I had seen them through some translucent blouses and kind of knew where it should end up; that and the pictures in the catalog had been educational. I pulled it down so the cups were centered over my nipples and it was then that I figured out why the cups were so thick. It was padded, more at the bottom that at the top.

   Then I remembered what the catalog had to say about the bras; all the ones pictured were called “push-up bras.” They were intended to push up small breasts and make them look bigger. I didn’t have any breasts, but there was a little flab on my chest. So I reached down into the cups and pulled that flab up above the thick bottom padding.

   Looking in the mirror, gave me a weird feeling. My chest kind of looked like what I thought a girl should look like. My hair was long, over my ears if I let it hang without combing it back. I ruffled it up with my fingers, so it fell down over my ears. Not exactly a girl look, but not a boy look either.

   “Are you OK in there?” Reagan called through the door. “Do you need any help?”

   “No, I’m good. I’ll be out in a minute.”

   I took the dress and pulled it over my head, finding the arm holes and pulling it down. It took a few moments twisting a pulling to get it to hang right. Another look in the mirror to see a more girl like reflection; it was then I had second thoughts. It was so foreign to see myself dressed like that. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly. Bucking up my courage I opened the bathroom door. Reagan was sitting on the bed smiling.

   “Are you OK? You look a bit flustered.”

   “You could say that. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this,” I said pulling out the sides of the dress.

   “There’s no special way you’re supposed to feel. You’re supposed to feel however you feel. … So how do you feel?”

   “Weird. I think I’m weird to be dressed like this. It’s just confusing. I’m a boy and boys don’t wear dresses. But somehow it’s exciting. It feels good and it shouldn’t feel good. I should hate it.”

   Reagan smiled and shook her head.

   “I’m not going to comment on that. You should discuss that with Dr. Cromwell. Let me do something with your hair.”

   She stood and took a brush out of her purse. She quickly brushed my hair and spritzed it with some sweet smelling stuff from an aerosol can. She then handed me a pair of sandals. I sat and put them on. When I was through, I looked up to find Reagan putting my cell and my tablet into a purse that was just large enough to accommodate them. It was dark chocolate brown, almost black and had a shoulder strap, similar to the one that Reagan carried. Reaching into her own purse, she pulled out one of those small compact packs of tissue that I’d seen my mother carry in her purse.

   “You’ll need to carry a purse from now on. I’ve just put in the basics,” she told me as she handed it to me. “You’ll soon feel naked if you don’t have it. When you get into make-up, you’ll want to carry lipstick and a compact as well.”

   I peeked inside and saw my wallet had gone in when I wasn’t looking.

   “I’m hungry. Ready to go to lunch?”

   My stomach did a little flip-flop. I again gathered my courage and nodded. Like a man going to the gallows, I followed Reagan to the cafeteria.

   When we got there I was relieved to not see a pair of pants anywhere. The students were all wearing dresses or skirts and blouses. I felt sorry for kid with a buzz cut. I looked around for him and nearly missed seeing him. If it wasn’t for the not quite healed bruise on his... no, her chin, I’d never would have. Obviously, someone figured out that a wig was in order.

   Reagan stayed with me through lunch and walked with me to the library. We waited together until my appointment time.

   “Would you like me to hang around and walk you back to your dorm after?” she asked when Dr. Cromwell called me in.

   “No, but thanks. I’ve got to do this on my own some time. I think sooner is better than later.”

   “OK, You’ve got my number call me if you need to talk.”
 

Chapter 12
Mixed emotions

   “I like your dress, it looks good on you,” Dr. Cromwell said as we walked back to the office.

   “Reagan picked it out.”

   “But it came from the selections you made in the fashion class catalog, so Reagan only selected it from outfits that you had already chosen. I can see by the way the dress hangs that you have a padded bra on. Am I correct to assume that you’re wearing the rest of the appropriate underwear?”

   “I’ve been encouraged to try this crossdressing thing before I decide it’s not for me, so I did it all; underpants and half-slip. Reagan says that this kind of dress gets kind of see through when the sunlight come from behind.”

   She smiled at that thought.

   “She gave you good advice. How do you feel about wearing all that finery? Take a few minutes to think about it. Start with when you put on the first item, I assume you started with panties, or bra. Examine your feelings then and then do the same with each item.”

   I let my mind wander back to my bathroom and the moment that I put on the panties. I went over it twice in my mind I could almost feel the sensation of that slick material sliding over my legs; covering my butt and other things.

   “I don’t know quite how to tell you. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced before, it made me feel naughty… like I was sneaking a cookie before dinner. That’s not quite right either, I want to say it's delicious… like dark chocolate. But in the middle of all that, I was torn by the feeling that I shouldn’t be wearing those clothes. The half-slip just intensified the whole experience.

   “The dress was kind of anticlimactic. The feeling was already as intense as it could get.”

   “So after you were dressed and you then had to leave your room. What were you’re feelings about that?”

   “I nearly didn’t have the courage. If Reagan hadn’t been there and fixed my hair and encouraged me I don’t think I could have gone down to lunch. When I got there the sense of relief when I saw all the others were in dresses or skirts and blouses was unbelievable. But even with that I still was nervous about going outside to come here. I think Reagan could sense that and stayed with me through lunch and walked with me over here.”

   “I notice Reagan sitting with you when I went out to call you in. Is she going to walk you back to your dorm?”

   “She offered, but I turned her down.”

   “Why is that?”

   “Today is Thursday. I only have tomorrow and the weekend before classes start and I won’t have a choice. I think I need to just jump in with both feet and get it over with. I got from now till Monday to get over my nerves. I mean, I know, intellectually, that Safe Haven is a protected environment, but tell my psyche that. I appreciate that Reagan is willing, but it’s something I have to do on my own.”

   She smiled and made some notes.

   “I’ll be interested discussing how you feel about going back to your dorm without anyone to hold your hand.”

   “I’m sure it will be interesting. I’m thinking I’ll regret telling Reagan that I would go it alone, but I think it’s something I need to do."

   She spent the rest of the session asking questions, some of which I found embarrassing. Specifically about erotic sensation. I mean, it’s not something I’ve ever discussed with anyone, let alone a grown woman. To me it smacked of the crude attitude of the guys in the restroom. Really there was nothing erotic about it.

   When the session was done, she walked me to the door and called her next appointment as I made my way to the main door. I paused in the doorway looking at the deceptively serene view. I could see some other students making their way somewhere. Some were in pairs, but most were on their own. I became aware that I needed to move as a younger student started up the steps to enter the library. She smiled at me with excitement shining from her face as I passed her. You’d think she’d just been granted her fondest wish.

   Perhaps she had, if I understood anything I’d been told about cross-dressers. I didn’t share the feeling of course, but it’s my understanding that they most wanted to be able to go out and do whatever it was that they needed or wanted to do dressed as girls or women. Here at Secure Haven, they could, just as Clara said, “explore their feminine side in a place of safety, with no judgment.” 'But what about me?'

   Dr. Cromwell had asked me to consider that at the same time she asked me to think about wearing girls clothes. I’d say that since I’m here dressed as a girl from the skin out I’ve settled the dressing part. But I’d been so hung up on the dressing, I hadn’t really thought about my personal gender identity. I knew I wasn’t like other boys. ‘But am I like the girls?’

   I know that even in elementary school, I was different and often found myself playing hop scotch or jump rope with the girls. I think that was the root of the attitude the guys had about me. Even then they thought I was a sissy, though they hadn’t refined their bullying technique enough to actually bully me. In middle school while I didn’t fit in with the guys, the girls didn’t do things I could easily blend into. They didn’t hang out on the playground; they all ended up in the cafeteria for the whole lunch period in groups gossiping. As a boy, I just couldn’t be accepted into that. In class it was a different matter. I could sit in with the girls easily enough and if anything came up that required a partner, the teachers didn’t like you traipsing across the classroom to get a partner, so I could partner with a girl there no problem.

   I pondered that set of thoughts. It became clear to me that even with that limited contact that I had much more in common with the girls than I did with the boys. But did that amount to a form of gender dysphoria? What little I knew about the subject I did know that when transgender people dressed in cross-gender clothes, they got some relief from the dysphoria. Am I experiencing any sense of relief?

   That brought me full circle back to the issue of clothes. What about the clothes? I went back over my thoughts and feelings since cross-dressing this noon time. Nervous to be sure; at least until I got to the cafeteria and found all of the newbies, without exception, dressed in the same manner. I then considered how I felt, as to what I experienced walking out in the open on the way to the library. At the time, the physical sensations were overwhelming me. Looking back without that happening I could explore what was going on inside. I remember looking around at all the other students on their way to or from somewhere on campus. I was comparing myself to them… judging their choice of outfit, how well they looked. Or is that presented? Most of them looked convincingly like girls. My image I’d seen in the mirror told me that I was in that group. Some did look like boys in a dress and they walked like boys. That thought made me self-conscious. While the image in the mirror looked convincing, did my demeanor give away my status as a cross-dresser? The big question was, why did it matter? It shouldn’t if I wasn’t transgender. But if I was transgender then where was the dysphoria? I clearly didn’t understand the nature of gender dysphoria; did anyone truly understand it.

   Didn’t Dr. Cromwell say when it came to how much feminine side there was in each of us that there will be as many answers to that as there are students to seek the answers? My answer obviously was that as far as my feminine side was concerned it wasn’t very broad or encompassing. But still there was that disconcerting feeling concerning my demeanor ruining the image in the mirror. ‘How could I care, unless my feminine side wanted to be seen as if I was a real girl? Did I really want to be seen as a real girl when I was wearing a dress?’

   I considered that for a while. Apparently, I did. Why else would I feel that concern about my demeanor? ‘I wonder if there’s anything on YouTube about that? There must be, there’s everything else on there.’

   Sitting on a bench next to the path, I got out my tablet and checked for a Wi-Fi signal and found none. Fishing out my phone, I set up a hotspot and logged into it with my tablet. A quick search and sure enough, there was a whole raft of “walk like woman’ videos. I watched one and it seemed a little farfetched. I made a mental note to ask Reagan about it.

   It was about then that I notice that there weren’t as many students out and about as there had been and what few there were, were all heading in the directions of the dorms. Checking the time, I saw that dinner time was fast approaching. I shut down the hotspot, turned off my phone and followed along with the others.

Chapter 13
Making friends

   Up until now, meal times have been eaten alone in a crowd. But today, the cafeteria was abuzz with conversation. At every table, animated dialogs were taking place. I found myself sitting across from Harriet. She was explaining her home situation to Dana, the student with the lace camisole.

   “My mom caught me several times wearing my sister’s clothes. She was angry, but not so much about the fact I was wearing girl’s clothes, but that I’d borrowed them without asking. Finally she told me that I had to ask my sister for permission each time I wanted to wear something of hers.”

   The rest of the students were all ears as she recounted her story.

   “She threatened to tell my dad if I didn’t. I knew that was a disaster in the making. My dad is proud of the fact that he had reputation of being a bully when he was in school. ‘No one gave me any lip,’ he’d proudly explain. And some of the stories about how he’d ‘set someone straight’ told me that he could never know about it. So I gave in and asked my sister if could borrow one of her sundresses for a while. Of course she wanted to know why. I had to explain to her about me being a girl on the inside and admitting that was why I let my hair grow out. After a promise to take good care of it she loaned it to me along with a slip and some sandals. I’d already procured some panties and a bra.

   “I thought I was in the clear until later in the week, we were going somewhere and dad suggested that she wear that very dress. She said she couldn’t because she’d loaned it to me and I hadn’t returned it to her. Well dad came unglued and grabbed me by the arm and shook me. He wanted to know where it was and what I was doing with it. He dragged me to my room and found it in the closet behind some other clothes the slip and my panties and bra shared the hanger. He demanded to know if I was planning to or if I’d already worn it. when I allowed that I had worn it, he hung onto my arm with his left hand an beat me with his right.

   “He then dragged me out to the car and took me to the barber shop and ordered a buzz cut. The police were waiting when we got home. A CSD worker was with them and just as she was ready to take me away mom’s sister, my Aunt Stella, showed up and volunteered to take me with her. The CSD worker produced some papers for her to sign and she took me home.

   “Once there she got the whole story out of me. That was two weeks ago. My aunt managed to pull some strings and got a family practice lawyer involved. After a quick interview, in a judge’s chambers, I was on my way here.”

   “Oh man, that’s real horror story, but it turned out good,” Dana said. “It makes my story sound like a dream come true.”

   “How’d you come to be here?” Loren wanted to know. Loren was a heavy set student with longish blonde hair seated on Jordan’s other side.

   “Oh, well on the whole, things were pretty good at home. Dad wasn’t too happy with his feminine son, but mom was cool with it. When I was six or seven I tried on her panties and they were way too big. But I liked them. So the next time we were at our cousin’s house, I snuck into her room and snatched a pair of hers. It was nearly a month later when she found them hidden under my mattress. She waited until dad was out of the house to talk to me about them.

   “I confessed that I’d taken them from my cousin. She gave me a verbal reprimand and informed me that we’d have to replace them. Since I’d worn them, we couldn’t just return them. The part that hurt, was that I’d have to dip into my birthday money and pay for them myself. She took me to the department store and had me pick out two packs of panties and at the counter she took my birthday money and paid on her credit card. Then we went to my cousin’s house where I had to confess to my aunt and cousin that I had taken her panties.

   “She had my cousin pick out a pair of panties from the six in the two packages. I didn’t understand why we had bought two packs and only given my cousin one. But I didn’t say anything. My cousin acted like it was no big deal. We played as usual until my mother said it was time to go.

   “When we got home she took me to my room, opened my underwear drawer and put the other five panties in there. The ones I’d taken were washed and in there as well. She told me that when I wanted to wear panties I should wear one of those and every time I wore them, I was to put them in the hamper when I took them off. And that was that.

   “My cousin seemed to know what went down and whenever I went over there she’d ask if I was wearing panties. About the third of forth time she asked, I decided that I’d wear them when I there. Once I started that she started wanting to play dress-up. So I wore her clothes. A couple of times of that and we were caught. My mother responded by buying me a dress and introduced me to camisoles. It was then that I found out my dad knew. He took me aside and talked to me about the difference between boys and girls. He told me that he and mom were going to let me ‘get it out of my system.” Well five years later, I feel naked if I’m not wearing panties and a camisole.

   “It was at school things got hairy. Thing were fine until fifth grade when one of my friends twigged to the fact that the underwear I had on was panties. It didn’t take long for the whole school knew about it. At first it was just some teasing and I went back to tighty-whities at school and panties the rest of the time. Dad got really nervous about what I was wearing and arranged his schedule so he could be there when I left for school and he checked to see what underwear I had on.

   “They took me to a shrink. After a couple of years, he determined that I was transgender. Meanwhile a kid from school saw me at a park and my shirt pulled up and he saw my cami and the fuss at school started again. The shrink put my folks onto this school and so here I am.”

   “What about you Blair? How’d you end up here,” Harriet asked.

   I’d told Reagan and Dr. Cromwell my story and now I was being asked to share my story with all the other students. I struggled with how I could graciously avoid it and couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t make me look like I was trying to push them away.

   “My story isn’t like anyone else’s. I never even thought about cross-dressing before I found out my folks were planning on sending me here. I knew nothing about cross-dressing.”

   “You mean you never ever wore girl’s clothes before today?”

   “Never. It never crossed my mind.”

   “So how did your folks come to the conclusion that you needed to come here?”

   “The brochure for this place says it’s a school for ‘gentle boys.’ I guess I fit that description. All the guys who I went to school with were Neanderthals. They voiced all sorts of crude things about girls. They all wore their hair really short and thought they were God’s gift to women, only they were to chicken to even actually talk to the girls. I tried to distance myself from them in any way I could. I let my hair grow out; I didn’t play the sports during lunch break or after school. They saw I was different and picked on me and it was getting to me. I hated school because of it. My mother said I was a ‘gentle boy’ and this school wouldn’t let Neanderthals attend and I didn’t have to worry about bullying here.”

   “And you never wore girl’s clothes before.”

   “Nope”

Chapter 14
Wearing the clothes

   That night when I went to get my pajamas out of the drawer, I found that there were two nightgowns in with them. It was then that I realized that Reagan had put away all the clothes while I was in the bathroom changing. I didn’t know then that there were any nightgowns in with them. I honestly hadn’t thought about what I would wear to bed.

   Unconsciously I reached out and touched one of them. I suddenly had a vision of Reagan standing at his sister’s closet touching that sundress and I could understand how he felt at that time. I took the nightie out of the drawer and laid it on my bed. With my eyes glued on that silky, powder blue confection of a sleep garment, I slowly stripped and dropped it over my head. ‘God, could I sleep in this? Would my mind manage to ignore the sensations flooding my senses?'

I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then I went back and looked in the full length mirror on my door. The image there was a mindblower. Somehow in the nightgown, I looked even more like a girl. The nightie was by far the most girlie looking thing I’d ever seen. Thinking back I kind of glossed over the nightwear in the catalog. I think I just marked the selections at random.

   In the morning, I woke up before the alarm on my phone went off and it was a good thing. After I did my morning bathroom routine, I came face to face with the problem that I’d heard women went through daily. What to wear. There were just too many selections. I mean as a guy, I’d just pull on a pair of jeans and grab some shirt or another limited only by what the weather was like. Here, now, I had to think about what I was going to do today, and if it was going to be skirt and blouse or a dress. Not only that, which shoes would go with the outfit.

   Fortunately, I had some black shoes and I learned in Fashion class that black goes with any color. I wore a dress on Thursday so I decided to go with a skirt and blouse; another safe choice, white blouse. Now I had free rein to choose any skirt in the closet. There was a pleated blue tartan number that had an elastic waist. I don’t know if it was necessary or not but I wore the half-slip again. I found some knee socks. Once I was dressed the mirror on the back of the door showed me a stereotypical girl in a uniform. All it lacked was a tie of some sort and a blazer.

   It was Friday, the last day of orientation week. I had today and the weekend to make this kind of outfit seem normal. Judging from what I saw at lunch and dinner yesterday, the rest of the newbies were ready to… no they already had embraced this as normal... As far as I could tell, they were in seventh heaven… and I was the only one who had any misgiving about it,

   I eyed my reflection in the full length mirror on my door. My hair was my downfall. I went back to the bathroom and took a brush to it. I tried all sorts of things and it still looked like boy’s hair; long, but boy’s hair... I was just about to say stuff it and give up when I heard, “Knock, knock,” and Reagan’s head poked in the door. She smiled at my obvious distress.

   “Want some help with that?” she asked.

   “You better do something before I snatch myself bald and go ask for a wig.”

   Reagan chuckled and said, “By Thanksgiving it’ll be second nature to you. You’ll need to pick up some of this at the Student Union store,” she held up an aerosol can and continued, “or no matter what you do will be undone the first time you step outside.”

   She put the can on my vanity and began brushing my hair. After she brushed out everything, she lifted some hair and back brushed it in a couple of places and then smoothed it over. She grabbed the can and gave my hair a light spray. With a light touch she smoothed things again, changing the look only a little and then sprayed it again. The finished do was definitely feminine.

   “Want to enhance your look just a bit more?”

   “How?”

   “They discourage make up with younger students, but if you want you can get away with some light pink lip gloss,’ she said holding up what looked like a lipstick tube.

   I know my mouth opened just a little. I’m not sure if I was going to say something or if I was surprised. Reagan opened the tube and twirled the gloss up. It was the palest pink I’ve ever seen. She spread just a little on the back of her hand and showed it to me. It barely showed.

   “Wanna try it?”

   I was torn. Make up seemed to be crossing a line, but there was something fascinating about the idea. I shrugged and gave the smallest nod,

   “Hold your mouth like this.”

   She demonstrated an open mouth that wasn’t quite round. When I mimicked her she touched it to my lips. When she was finished I turned to the mirror. There was a difference in the way I looked, but if I didn’t know about the lip gloss I’d have never been able to figure out just what it was or what caused it.

   “Better get downstairs for breakfast.”

   Reagan went to breakfast with me and as we entered the cafeteria some of the girls… I had to call them girls – they were all in essence girls – waved me over to them.

   “Hi, this is my big sister, Reagan. She was kind enough to help get my hair looking OK.”

   “Like the do… Good job Reagan. Any chance you can give lessons?” Dana asked.

   “Yeah. No offence Blair, you hair was OK yesterday, but today your hair is boss. When my hair grows out and I can ditch this wig can you show me some short hairstyles?”

   “Reagan, this is Harriet. She has to wear a wig because she came in with a buzz cut.”

   “Hi Harriet. I’m no hairdresser, but I’d be glad to do whatever I can. With a buzz cut, it’ll take at least until Christmas to get long enough to do a passible hairdo. That’s assuming you have fast growing hair.”

   We sat and started breakfast. Everyone was asking Reagan questions how long she’d been going to Secure Haven; what’s changed since she started; what kind of Phys Ed did she take and on and on. When they weren’t giving Reagan the third degree they were all talking about how good I looked. Of course I knew enough to return the compliment. Somehow them telling me how good I looked made me smile and feel good about myself.

  Classes that day seemed easier, not that they were particularly hard to begin with. Looking back Gym was the stand out. Friday, was the day we had to choose our first term class. I was still dithering when I dressed down for class. We’d been trying a little of each option. What really stands out was as we dressed down, I didn’t hesitate putting on the sports bra, but then I’d just taken off the padded bra. I missed the padding and pushup feature. The sports bra has none of that.

   On Tuesday, we had all played around doing gymnastic type things. I say played around because we all sucked at it. Though some of us were more limber than other and perhaps had some promise. As far as I was concerned… I could walk the balance beam but every time I tried anything I fell was lucky to land on my feet. I could hang from the uneven bars and swing I did manage a few moves. After watching a few other try doing things with the spring board, I decided to give it a pass. I did some better at the floor exercise. I could manage a cartwheel, a handstand with a decent tuck out of it, a forward roll and a backward roll. Though on that last I was a bit jerky and it didn’t look all that good. Anything else was pretty much out of the question. The coach insisted that with practice I could do the splits, both front split and center split, but I nearly pulled a muscle trying.

  Wednesday had us learning basic ballet positions. Not as easy as it looked. The interpretive dance was a bit easier, but I don’t think that any of us were near graceful enough to even think about doing a full routine. Coach pointed out that interpretive dance elements were used in the gymnastic floor exercise.

  Thursday was split between learning how to control the ball in field hockey and tennis. I think I may have a future in tennis. I’d played with my cousins a couple of times and already knew the basics. I really had a lot of fun at it.

  But Friday, the coach said that it was time to choose which Phys Ed course we would follow. She cautioned us that choosing anything but the sports rotation would require us to eat, breathe and sleep the discipline. Only three chose otherwise and they all went for gymnastics.

Chapter 15
Changes

   “Good afternoon Blair. How are you?”

   “I think I’m good.”

   She smiled. “Day two en femme. How do you feel about that?”

   “I’m not really feeling anything about that.”

   “Take a moment and think about that. Given your background I would think you had some feelings about it? Think about this morning when you got dressed and tell me about what was going on in your head.”

   I let my mind replay the morning after my bathroom routine.

   She just kept smiling. “I like your outfit. Did Reagan help you put it together?”

   “No, but she helped me with my hair, after I was dressed.”

   “So you must have put in some thought as you got dressed. Tell me about that.”

   “Well, yes, I did put in some thought. I tried to remember everything we’ve been learning in fashion class. I don’t think I’ve got it all down. So I chose black shoes and white blouse so I would be right no matter what skirt I ended up with.”

   “No misgivings about putting on girl’s clothes?”

   “I kind of settled that question earlier this week. I decided to just do it and try not to worry about it.”

   “Today is the day I have to give my recommendation about you fitting in here at Safe Haven. What do you think I should tell them?”

   “I thought that what we talked about was private and wouldn’t be shared.”

   “And it won’t. But I can and am expected to make recommendations about the suitability of a student as to Safe Haven being a good place for them. I do that without telling any details about what we’ve talked about or my reason for recommending one way or the other.

   “So what should I say? Do you stay or go?”

   “I want to stay.”

   “OK, then let’s talk about what it means to you to wear these clothes. Do you feel excited about it?”

   “Excited? No I just wear them. Clothes are clothes. Right?”

   “So there’s no erotic undertones when you put on the panties?”

   “Erotic? You mean do I get… like… …” I almost had to stop talking. I was about to use that same gutter talk that I heard in the restroom of my last school. “… like, you know...” How do I say it to a woman and not sound like some horny middle school jerk? “Aroused?”

   I could feel my face burn. That’s not something I’d discuss with male friend, let alone a grown woman. OK, so she’s a doctor; not just any doctor, but a psychiatrist; but still…

   “OK, let’s backtrack a little bit. What about last night when you got undressed? Were you relieved to get out of that dress?”

   “I don’t think ‘relieved’ is the right word. That would suggest that I was under some sort of stress because I was wearing it. I don’t think I was. By the time I got ready for bed, I was at peace with the clothes. Actually I think I had made my peace with the unusualness of it by the time lunch was over. If not then certainly by dinner. I mean everyone was talking about how they came to be here and what was going on at home before they came. They even asked me about my experience. They had all cross-dressed to varying degrees before but when I told them that I hadn’t they just accepted the story.

   “I mean I was unique; no one was like me. But they didn’t seem to mind. Being different at my old school meant that I was a target for bullying or at least shunning me. But everyone was interested in what I had to say and asked questions, wanting more details. It’s like they were interested in me. I think I made some friends. That’s kind of a new experience. I haven’t really had friends since fourth grade.”

   She nodded and made notes on her ever present pad. The rest of the session she explored how I felt about the other students. She got me to dissect their choice of clothes. And wanted my opinion about how much they looked like girls and whether it was important to look like a girl when cross-dressed. Some of the answers had to go into the “let’s talk about some more later” because I needed to think it through.

   “Starting next week, I’ll see you only once a week. If you continue to fare as well as you have so far, after Thanksgiving, we’ll make it once a month. Thursday right after your last class will be your day.”

   I must have looked surprised because she offered a reason for the change.

   “Next week when regular classes commence, I’ll need to touch base with all the other student that I counsel and set up regular appointments with them. If something comes up and you feel you need to talk to me between sessions, you can fire an email and I’ll make some time for you.”

   With that the session was over.

   Reagan was waiting for me when I got back to my dorm.

   “Hi Blair. Since tomorrow is moving day, I thought you might like some help.”

   "I suppose that would be a good idea. What do I have to do?”

   “Not too much tonight. Just get all your small stuff ready. You know toiletries and personal items, like your laptop and tablet boxed up. Tomorrow while breakfast is being served they’ll bring that roll cart back and then we load it up and walk it over to Gloria Harrison Hall and unpack in your new room. No need to feel rushed to get everything done. I took the liberty to checking with Mrs. Gates; your roommate is a returning student and won’t be arriving until Sunday. So that gives us all day Saturday to get you squared away.”

   “Sounds good. I have my suitcase that I brought my boy clothes in. I’m sure that everything will fit in it. It was only about half full.”

   “OK. Would you like to have me stay for dinner and give you a hand?”

   “You’re welcome to stay for dinner, but I don’t think I need any help tonight. Tomorrow I probably will. So you could come over for breakfast.

   “If you’re sure, I’ll go back to my room and get it in order. My roommate is coming tomorrow. I’ll have to introduce you when we all get settled in. She’s a girlie-girl. She’s been a student here since first grade. She always insisted that she was a girl and her folks sought out this place after they enrolled her in kindergarten and the school tried to convince her she was a boy and had to do the boy activities. She ended up a mid-term transfer for kindergarten.”

   “She said she was a girl before kindergarten? How’s that possible? At that age I didn’t even know there was any real difference between boys and girls.”

   “Most people don’t at that age, or at least don’t realize they do. But some people know they aren’t the gender assigned at birth at age two or three. I’m sure you remember, even at that age, parents dress their kids in gender specific clothes. Tracie always wanted to wear clothes like her sister. She even asked why she couldn’t be a girl. Her parents consulted a specialist and decided to allow her some diversity in her expression. It was when she started school that the issues arose.

   “Anyway, I’m looking forward to her getting here. She’s kind of my role model. I envy her early start. Like I told you, I was nine before I discovered that there was more girl in me than boy. I’ll have to get her to tell you, her story. "

Chapter 16
The big move

   Reagan found me at breakfast and came back to my room after we ate. As promised, there was a roll-cart in my room. I had packed my suitcase the night before. It was just big enough to take everything in my dresser. I stuffed the nightgown I’d worn the night before in an outside pocket. I don’t think I’d have had room for everything if I didn’t have a laundry bag with what I’d worn that week in it.

   We opened my closet and began hanging the things on the garment rail it pretty much filled the whole rack. The shelf on the bottom had a couple of boxes. We put my shoes in one and used the other for the laundry bag. It didn’t take very long with Reagan helping. We made a search of the room like you would a motel room when checking out to see that you hadn’t forgotten anything. With Reagan pulling and me pushing we head down the hall. There were a few others ahead of us and we followed them to the back of the building where the handicap entrance was. Dumb me; I didn’t even know there was a handicap entrance.

   It was about a five minute walk to Gloria Harrison Hall. Somehow Reagan knew which side of the building we need to go to, to find the ramp. In we went. Apparently Reagan had found out in advance which room I’d have and led the way.

   Gloria Harrison Hall was a two story building with a small freight elevator at the back of the building. My room was on the second floor so I was glad of the freight elevator. Once in the room, I let Reagan take the lead, since I’d never lived in a dorm before.

   “Since you’re here first, you get to choose which side of the room you want to claim.”

   “Does it make a difference?” I asked looking back and forth between the beds.

   The room wasn’t overly large. Larger than my room at home; I suppose it was about the size of my mom and dad’s bedroom. Directly across from the door were two double hung windows with a nice view of some trees. On the wall on either side of the door there were large armoires. They had two doors, one full height and the other half-height on the top with drawers underneath There were two twin size beds; one on either side of the room. The room was long enough that at the foot of each bed a small computer desk could fit between the foot of the bed and the wall. Each had a comfortable looking office chair at it.

   “Not really. It’s only a matter of do you want the light from the window over your left shoulder or your right when you sit at the desk.”

   I considered it and decided to take the right side so the light would be over my left shoulder. I don’t know why; I just did.

   We opened the armoire and started hanging clothes. The dresses went in the full height on the left side and the skirts and blouses went on right. All the lingerie and other small items went in the drawers. The computer desk had some drawers down one side so I put my tablet in one of them.

   “Most of the returning students will be coming in on Sunday, but some will be here today. Since there’s no way to predict the number of people eating, today and tomorrow meals will be served in the Student Union café. No charge for eating there at meal times until Monday. It’s nearly lunch time; wanna head over there?”

   “Yeah, I think it’d be a good idea.”

   We left the roll cart in the hall. Reagan said that maintenance would pick it up this afternoon. I notice two others on my floor and a three down the hall on the main floor. There were about a dozen students and their big sisters already at the Student Union when we got there. Meals were cooked to order and we could choose from a large menu. I opted for a burger and fries with some juice. Mom and I have been avoiding high fructose corn syrup whenever we could. Reagan had a ham sandwich and chips. She didn’t worry about the high fructose corn syrup so she had a Dr. Pepper.

   As we ate, I got a look at the other newbies. I saw that both the newbie dorm and my current had only the older students in it. The group gathering here ranged from about third grade up. I’m not sure how, but I’d not noticed any of the younger students until now.

   After we ate, we walked down to toward that duck pond. Everyone called it “The Mill Pond.” I guess that the campus was built on the site of an old saw mill that had closed down sometime in the 1970s. Reagan must have known that she wanted to go there. We sat on the same bench as before and when the ducks showed up she reached into her purse and produced a bag of brown rice.

   “A lot of people feed bread to ducks, but it’s not healthy for them. Natural grains are much better,” she said as she opened the bag and scattered a handful at the water’s edge.

   The ducks began quacking and snatching up the rice. This of course attracted more ducks. Reagan poured about half the remaining rice into a lunch sack and handed it to me.

   “Let’s spread out a little and feed the beggars.”

   I took my half and walked a couple of steps to the right and Reagan did the same to the left. With two of us scattering the rice it didn’t take long for it to be all gone. I went to sit back on the bench, but Reagan indicated we should move on. I followed her across the bridge to another bench and we sat there.

   “We had to move because the ducks wouldn’t have believed we didn’t have any more rice.”

   Looking across the pond I could still see them pecking at stray pieces that they’d missed before. That was an experience I’d never had before. It was kind of neat. I made a note to pick up some rice and come back again.

   “So, what do you think? Are you going to be alright dressing like a girl?”

   “So far it hasn’t been bad. But I do have some questions. The picture in the brochure showed a number of students walking across the quad by the main entrance. Most of them were wearing skirts one of them was wearing short shorts and Sammie was wearing capris. The clothes they issued me were all dresses and skirts. So, can we wear pants if we want?”

   “The only requirement is that the clothes you wear are decidedly girls and while they prefer that you wear clothes that are semi dressy, they don’t actually police the policy and in spring term, some of the girls push the limit. I’m told that particular picture was chosen for the brochure because the administration thought it showed the variety of clothes that were acceptable. While they don’t have pants of any kind in the clothing warehouse, you’re free to get them from other sources and wear them at your discretion. I even have some skinny jeans and some wool slacks that I wear when the weather turns. You’re from Oregon, so you know that the winters can be cool. A lot of the girls opt for long heavy skirts and knee boots for winter but nearly as many go for either long pants or leggings under mid-calf skirts.”

   “I checked with Mrs. Gates to see who you were rooming with. It’s Glenn Hastings. I don’t know her personally, but I do know she’s been here since fourth grade. So she’s pretty much totally into our lifestyle here. I expect she’ll be totally into the girlie-girl thing.”

   “What’s that mean for me?”

   “You should be prepared for her to act like you should be too. Don’t let that throw you. Simply explain to her that you’re new to this cross-dressing thing. She’ll undoubtedly have a hard time relating to the fact that you aren’t totally in seventh heaven with the idea you can wear dresses all the time.”

   I can’t say that was encouraging. I could just see her copping an attitude when I didn’t embrace this whole thing like it was the best thing since sunshine in the morning.

Chapter 17
Roommate

   On the way to breakfast on Sunday, I spotted several of my new friends that I met at Amy Garfield Hall and Harriet started a conversation with me.

   “Hi Blair, you get settled in OK?”

   “Yeah. My roommate is coming in today, so I haven’t met her yet.

   “Mine got in late last night. That her up ahead. The blonde with the green outfit. She seems to be cool. We looked at my schedule and she has several classes with me so we’ll be able to study together.”

   “That’s cool. That was one of my big problems at my old school. Nobody to study with. I really didn’t have any friends.”

   “Yeah, well until I came here, my only friend was the girl next door and she was only my friend because I walked to school with her.”

   Just then, Dana joined us. After a round of hi's we fell into a surreal conversation that rivaled some I’d overheard at lunch time at school when I was sitting near the girls. It was all about clothes and what they wanted and didn’t have in their wardrobe. What was weird was that I was interested. It was like they were giving me lessons in what cross-dressers hopes and dreams would or should be. The really weird part was that I felt I needed to know.

   All in all it was the strangest morning of my life. OK, so I’m in seventh grade, 12 going 13, but still… I’d never been part of a group before that wasn’t family. There were six of us who walked back to our dorm as a group. The conversation flowed back and forth sometimes the whole group, sometimes just between two or three.

   I got to my dorm room and found the door standing open. Inside was a girl about my age wearing a really attractive sundress. As I entered the room, she turned.

   “You must be Blair. I’m Glenn. I guess we’re roomies this year.”

   “I guess so.”

   There were three suitcases on the floor. One of them was actually a garment bag that folded over to have a handle like a suitcase.

   “I just got here. Which side have you claimed?”

   “Ah… that side,” I said indicating the right side. “But we could switch if you wanted that side. It doesn’t matter to me.”

   “Nah, it doesn’t matter to me either,” she said as she opened the large door on the left armoire.

   She unfolded the garment bag and hung it from the rail and then put the two remaining suitcases on her bed. I sat on my bed as she opened the cases and started hanging up skirts and blouses.

   “Is this your first time at a boarding school?” she wanted to know.

   “Yeah, it’s my first time away from home.”

   “For some of the girls here, that’s a big relief… to finally be away from home.”

   “Yeah, just ask Harriet. She’s a seventh grader just starting here. I really miss my mom already and it’s only been a week.”

   “Yeah, if you had a good relationship, I’m sure you would. Where are you from?”

   “Hillsboro.”

   “That’s like west of Portland a little, isn’t it?

   “Yeah, about a half an hour’s drive.”

   “That’s not so far. You’re lucky; I’m from New York. Are you going home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas?”

   “I don’t know about Thanksgiving, but we’re planning on it for Christmas.”

   “I’ll be here for Thanksgiving. I’m not sure about Christmas. I hope I’ll be able to.”

   “So, I hear you’ve been going to school here since fourth grade. So I guess you’re used to the routine and being away from home and all.”

   “You could say that. I get along with my dad a lot better at a distance than I do in person. He’s a bit old school. My mom said she always knew I was a girl inside even when I was a toddler, but my dad only saw his son; his fishing and hunting buddy. But I never took to those things. I don’t like handling worms or live fish and frankly being around a gun when it being fired, scares me. So when I started showing my feminine side, Dad kind of freaked out and mom had to talk him down a couple of times.

   “It wasn’t until after they took me to a child psychologist that he agreed that transgender even existed. It was the shrink that convinced my folks that I might be better off going to school here. Coming here was kind of frightening, but after a week or so, I fit right in and finally being able to dress so that when I look in the mirror the reflection looks right all the time made things much better for me. I’ve never looked back.

   “My counselor says that I’ll likely start puberty blockers this year. It can’t start soon enough for me. My cousin, who’s only a year older than me, is already had a growth spurt and is getting body hair. Gross. I don’t want that.”

   “So you’ve been cross-dressing all this time. You really like it?”

   She looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

   “Well yeah. Even a little bit before I came here. Like I said, mom knew early on it was really a girl inside, so I never really had any obvious boy clothes. She kept everything I wore gender neutral for as long as she could. When I started telling her that I wanted more girlie clothes she bought me a couple of blouses that weren’t gender neutral. That’s when Dad need to be talked down the first time. When I went to the shrink, at her suggestion mom got me enrolled here.

   “What about you? How long have you been cross-dressing?”

   “Today’s my fourth day.”

   She stopped putting her clothes away and turned to face me. She blinked a few times.

   “I mean when did you first experiment with girl’s clothes or your mother’s not when you fully dressed up.”

   “I never put on any girl’s or women’s clothes of any kind until Thursday last week.”

   “But you knew you were a girl inside before then right?”

   “I don’t know if I’m really a girl inside now. I never considered it before.”

   She sat on her bed across from me. Giving me a look that could have been disbelief or incredulousness she shook her head.

   “OK, so spill. What’s your story?”

   So I went through my trouble fitting in at school and how it affected my grades and how I put up with verbal bullying. I explained that I had a lot of respect for women and girls. I told her about how my father wanted to send me to military school but my mother stopped him.

   “Oh wow, that would have been a real bummer. I shudder to think of what military school would be like for me.”

   “Yeah, well all that macho bull-pucky coming down from the administration at one of those would be a disaster for me as well.”

   “So, if you never felt like a girl or wore girl’s clothes how did you end up here?”

   “It was my mother’s idea. I don’t know where she found out about Secure Haven, but the motto on the brochure spoke to her and made her think of me.”

   “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the brochure.”

   “It says, ‘Secure Haven Academy; a school for gentle boys.’ She says I’m a ‘gentle boy’ and so I belong here.”

   “OK, so four days in dresses. How do you feel about it?”

   “You sound like Dr. Cromwell. She always asking, ‘How do you feel.’ I’m surprised that I kind of like it. The clothes are comfortable and feel kind of nice.”

   She laughed. “So, you’re coming over to the dark side.”

   “I don’t know about that so much, but I can appreciate why someone would prefer these clothes. I think the closest I would get to the ‘dark side,” would be like Sammie, my big sister’s friend. She wears girl’s clothes 24/7, but still maintains that she’s a boy or I guess, since she eighteen, a man.”

   “Now there’s a foreign concept for me. Living as a woman, but maintaining a male attitude. I’m a girl and I can’t wait to have surgery to correct the birth defect between my legs.”

   “When I found out I was coming here and that the school has the rep of being forced fem, I scoured the internet to try and learn as much as I could about Secure Haven and cross-dressing. It’s not altogether unheard of. I have to tell you that I was glad to hear Clara’s speech on the first day here about it being my choice.”

   “So why did you choose to stay then. If you don’t feel like you have a girl inside or a burning desire to dress in girl’s clothes, why not just walk away?”

   “I told you how I didn’t fit in at my old school and, well, I couldn’t imagine another kind of school where I would. It seemed as if Secure Haven was my last chance to fit in anywhere.”

   “And do you… fit in that is?”

   “The longer I’m here, I think so. I don’t think wearing the clothes has anything to do it. My mom was right; I’m a gentle boy and Secure Haven is designed to nurture gentle boys.”

   “But what about wearing girl’s clothes?”

   “That’s a price to pay for fitting in. Besides, I think I’m going to like it a lot after the new wears off.”

Chapter 18
the rush up to Thanksgiving

   The following morning I got dressed, taking my lead from Glenn, though not quite a girlie as she, I wore a nice dress and flat shoes. I was sure to bring the back pack that Reagan had dropped off after dinner. She pointed out that most of the classes would issue a text book and they wouldn’t all fit in my purse. I left the purse behind and put all the small items in an outside pocket of the pack and slid my tablet into and inside pocket.

   Classes were pretty much as you would expect at any school. I had English, pre-algebra, history/social studies and Phys Ed. Reagan was right. I needed the backpack. The only class that didn’t have a book for me was Phys Ed. But even there, I was issued a field hockey uniform. Fortunately, there was a locker in the gym for it and I didn’t have to pack it or my regular PE uniform back and forth each day.

   Days became weeks and weeks became months and the next thing I knew, it was Thanksgiving. I had emailed Mom every Sunday after that first Sunday. She told me that she and Dad would be coming to the school for Thanksgiving dinner. They’d stay the weekend at a motel in Corvallis. I guess the school had a policy that parents could visit for dinner on holidays and Mom was anxious to see me.
Wednesday evening just after dinner, my phone rang. I had almost forgotten that it was a phone. It had become my alarm clock and watch. Oh occasionally I texted somebody, but I hadn’t talked on it since before coming to Secure Haven. My caller ID showed me it was Mom.

   “Hi Mom, what’s up?”

   “Hi, your dad and I just got checked into the motel and I wanted to let you know that we were here. We’ll be coming to the school after lunch tomorrow. Could you meet us somewhere? We don’t know the campus.”

   “Sure give me a call when you’re on your way and I’ll meet you at parking lot where you parked when you brought me here.”

   Glenn was going home for the weekend with our neighbor from across the hall. She lived in Eugene and her parents came up and were waiting for them after their last class that day, so I was alone. I debated what I should wear. I got out my travel bag that I’d come with and looked at the boy clothes in there. Somehow they seemed a foreign as the girl’s clothes did when I came. I kind of had the idea that I should dress as a boy, but the more I thought about it, it just seemed wrong. My student ID had me as a girl pictured on it. That and I was sure that the other students who weren’t going home would be in girl clothes. I really wanted to fit in and if I wore boy clothes I’d stand out and probably have to answer question as to why I’d want to wear those clothes.

   I looked through my wardrobe and chose a pullover blouse that was plain and has a three button placket and a pointed collar. I paired it with a plain grey skirt that came just below the knees. I laid it out on Glenn’s bed and spent the remainder of the evening fretting over my choice. These were the least girlie clothes I had that weren’t outright boy’s clothes.

   I got dressed in the morning with some trepidation, but there weren’t a lot of choices. The cafeteria was about half full for breakfast. I sat with Dana and Jordan. Their parents were coming as well. Neither of them seemed to have any second thoughts about what to wear. The big Thanksgiving meal would be served in the Student Union at two in the afternoon so there was no lunch. I didn’t see Reagan that day because she had gone to Sammie’s for Thanksgiving the night before. I decided to call Mom about ten.

   “Hi Mom,”

   “Oh, hi Blair.”

   “I don’t know if they told you, but dinner will be served at two, so if you may want to eat an early lunch and keep it light.”

   “Oh we were just talking about that. We didn’t set an alarm this morning and have just finished with breakfast. Maybe we should just come to you now. That will give you a chance to show us around the campus before dinner.”

   That sounded like a plan. If they were here, then the concern about how they would react to me in girl’s clothes would be over. If it freaked them out too much, I could always change and have them take me to dinner at a restaurant in Corvallis.

   “Sure, that sounds good. Are you ready to leave right now?”

   “We only need to go back to our room and get our jackets and we’ll be on our way.”

   “OK, I’ll give you about fifteen minutes and head for the admin building. See you then.”

   “Bye.”

   “Oh and Mom?”

   “Yes?”

   “I… ah… I’ll be wearing a grey skirt and white top.”

   “OK, see you soon.”

   I hoped she’d pass that on to Dad so it wouldn’t be an outright shock when he saw me.

   I was sitting on the Admin steps when they pulled into the lot. My lips had been dry so I’d put on some lip gloss, but otherwise not done anything for makeup. I’d simply brushed my hair back behind my ears. It wasn’t my best look and I’d have never gone to class without doing something with my hair but I wanted them to be able to see me as the Blair they knew.

   Mom was driving. I suppose it was because she’d been here before and knew where to go. She got out and so did Dad. They looked around as if they were kind of lost. I don’t know what it was, but I was reluctant to go to them. Mom spotted me and being as there were no other students around she zeroed in on me and started my direction. Finally I stood and made my way down the stairs.

   Mom came over and hugged me. Dad held back and studied me while Mom hugged. When Mom stepped away Dad and I had a stare down. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run away or stand firm and defend my choice of outfits. Dad blinked first.

   “Well s… Blair, your mother told me how you’d be dressed. So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I wasn’t prepared to see you so girlie. Somehow, I expected to see a boy in a dress, but if I didn’t know you were my son I’d be asking if you knew where he was.

   “I guess I’m trying to say you look nice.”

   “First thing I want to see is your room,” Mom said.

   So I led them to Gloria Harrison Hall. As we stepped in the door, Mom looked around.

   “Aside from the armoire being bigger, it could be my college dorm. Only my dorm room was never this neat. My roommate had a thing for laying things down were ever she got through with them. Did you tidy up for our visit?”

   “Not really, my roommate is pretty neat and you raised me to pick up after myself.”

   “Which one is your bed?”

   “That one.” I pointed to the right.

   She sat on my bed and seemed to test the mattress.

   “Seems nice. Is it comfortable?”

   I shrugged. “I sleep good on it.”

   “They send us your report card. Looks like you’re doing well.”

   “Yeah, we kind of formed a study group, my friends and I. If there's anything I don’t understand one of them can help me wrap my head around it and I do the same for them.”

   “That’s good. We were concerned… wondered if you’d make friends here.”

   It was getting awkward so I suggested that I show them the rest of the campus.

   “Before we do that, let me do something with your hair. It looks much nicer on you student ID.” I looked at her. “They sent us a copy of it.”

   She took a brush out of her purse and brushed some style into my hair. On the way out of the room, she opened the doors on my armoire and smiled. I did the walking tour that Reagan had done that first Monday. As we walked, we talked.

   “So how has it been?” Mom wanted to know.

   “Good. Much better than I thought it might be.”

   “Really? What did you expect?”

   “I guess I’ll need to confess that I heard you guys talking about the school before you sent for the info package. I heard you, Dad, when you said, ‘You know what they say about that school,’ and I got to wondering just what it was they said. So, I looked it up online. The official website didn’t say much that could cause people to talk. So I spent some time tracking down comments in an offsite forum that wasn’t monitored by the school. The comments were still carefully worded to avoid libel but still conveyed the idea that students were not given any choice but to become cross-dressers without recourse. It also gave the impression that once the student was here, that was the end of the line until graduation.

   “But that first Monday they had an orientation assembly and the headmistress, Clara, got up and said they didn’t do forced fem and if at any time we decided that it wasn’t for us we could tell any staff member and they would make other arrangements for us.”

   “Really?” Dad said. “Looking around I don’t see anything other than boys going around wearing dresses. If they don’t do force fem, how to you explain that?”

   “Clara said, what they do is give boys the freedom to explore their feminine side in a place of safety, with no judgment.”

   “So what about these ‘other arrangements’ you talked about? I see no evidence of that.”

   “You wouldn’t see it, because the other arrangements involve finding a school that is for them, so they wouldn’t be here. Every student that makes that decision is placed in another school that will have a program they can live with.”

   “And you know they’ve done this how?”

   “Reagan said that she knows two students that stayed past the week of orientation that went elsewhere.”

   “Who’s Reagan?”

   “My big sister.”

   Dad looked mystified.

   “Big sister?”

   “They assign each new student an older student to help them with the day to day questions they may have. Like where to find things on campus; just what policies actually translate to for the individual student,” Mom told him. “I was there when Reagan was introduced to Blair. I asked Mrs. Gates what she meant by saying she was Blair’s big sister.”

   “My counselor, Dr. Cromwell tells me that most students who don’t actually fit in are identified during orientation week.”

   “How much time did Dr. Cromwell spend before she decided you ‘fit’ the program here?”

   “I met with her for an hour… OK fifty minutes, every day during orientation week.”

   Dad looked surprised that there was that much time.

   “Fifty minutes is a standard psychiatrist’s appointment. Is Dr. Cromwell a psychiatrist?”

   “I’m not sure, but I think she’s a psychologist,” I told dad.

   “What’s the difference?”

   Mom answered. “As I understand it the difference is that a psychiatrist is or started as an MD and can prescribe drugs, where as a psychologist has the same counseling training but lacks the MD.”

   “So one week of daily meetings. What did she tell you?”

   “She didn’t actually tell me anything except to remind me of what Clara said about opting out and she pointed that out nearly every time. She spent a lot of time asking how I felt about different things. She left me with lots of things to think about. I decided that I would give their program a try. Mom asked me to give it till Christmas so I’ll stay with it until then at least. But I’ve got to tell you that once I got used to the clothes I like the program. I can’t see changing schools after Christmas.”

   Mom looked pleased and Dad looked relieved.

   “You don’t feel forced?”

   “No. they’ve gone out of their way to make sure that I was OK with this.”

Chapter 19
home for Christmas

   Mom showed up on Friday to take me home for Christmas. I was all packed and ready. She was waiting in the common room of Gloria Harrison Hall when I came in from my last class.

   “Hi Mom. Let me run up to my room and grab my bags and we can hit the road.”

   I quickly dashed up the stairs and deposited the books I’d been carrying on my desk and grabbed my backpack and my original suitcase plus the new one. I mused as a trotted down the stairs. ‘If I weren’t exploring my feminine side, just to one case would have been enough. But with all the choices and not knowing just what I’m going to be doing I was lucky to get it in two.’

   Mom gave me an odd look when I appeared with my backpack and two suitcases but didn’t say anything. She popped the trunk when we got to the car and I put everything in. We started talking as we headed toward Corvallis.

   “Are you ready for a break from Secure Haven?”

   “Actually, I think I’m going to miss it. All my friends are at Secure Haven. When I get home, there’s just you and Dad. Not that I haven’t missed you. But most of the time you guys will be at work and I’ll have to occupy my time somehow.

   “What have you told Grandma about where I’ve been?”

   We didn’t keep in touch with many of the extended family except Grandma since they were scattered all over the country. The only one that was anywhere nearby was cousin Charlotte. She lived out in Gresham and was like mom’s second or third cousin. She went to her husband’s family for holidays, so aside from Christmas and birthday cards we didn’t really communicate.

   “I only mentioned in a note on the back of the Christmas cards to family that you were in a boarding school and were doing quite well. You remember that your grandmother is helping with the tuition, so she knows that you are attending Secure Haven.”

   “Did you tell them what boarding school?”

   “No, I didn’t think it mattered. That and I wasn’t sure if I should. Anyone who looks up the name on the internet will see that picture on the brochure proclaiming it to be a school for gentle boys and showing all those girls walking around. I wasn’t sure you would want that broadcast to all and sundry.”

   “What does Grandma know about Secure Haven?”

   “Only that it’s a school that will not allow you to be bullied even if it is just verbal.”

   “I suppose I’ll have to wear my boy clothes on Christmas when Grandma comes over.”

   “I suppose so.”

   It was my turn to be quiet. Mom looked over at me.

   “You look a little down. Why is that?”

   “It’s just I don’t know how convincing I’ll be trying to be the old me. The main focus of Secure Haven is to allow gentle boys explore their feminine side. I didn’t even know I had one, but since September, I’ve discovered it and explored it. Getting to know that part of me has changed me. I don’t know what to say to Grandma if she says anything.”

   Mom thought about that for a few miles.

   “What would you like to say?”

   “I don’t see that I can lie to her. I’ve never lied to her.”

   “So then you have to tell her the truth.”

   “I’m concerned about Grandma being upset and pulling her help with tuition.”

   “I don’t think you have to worry about that. She’s been very interested with how you’re doing at school and is delighted that you are now working up to your potential. You’ve gotten straight A-s since the first grading period. She pointed out that was better than you’ve ever done before. She gives all the credit to your new school.”

   “But it will still be a shock if she sees me how I’m dressed right now.”

   “I suppose you’re right. There are two options to avoid that. One, you could simply put on boy clothes and go see her and explain how Secure Haven assures you won’t be bullied by encouraging the exploration of your feminine side. Two, you can call her on the phone when you get home and try it over the phone.”

   I considered those options. I was torn. I was so entrenched in wearing girl’s clothes that the thought of having to put on boy clothes seemed wrong. I also felt like a chicken because I was afraid to tell her, not only because of the tuition issues but because I didn’t want her to think badly of me

   “I think I should phone her. I don’t want to lose my edge. It was quite an adjustment to bring myself to wear the clothes. I had a month before we made the trip down and four days after to get used to the idea and come to terms with it. Now it seems as wrong to wear boy’s clothes as it did to wear girl’s.”

   “Do you intend to continue wearing girl’s clothes throughout the Christmas break?”

   “I didn’t really think about it when I packed, but thinking about what I did pack, it would seem so. I mean, I’ve got two suit cases full of girl’s clothes and the backpack contains the boy’s clothes that I somehow deemed as not being needed anymore.”

   “Does that mean you want to remain at Secure Haven?”

   “Yeah. I mean you’ve seen my grades. I’m doing really well. I’ve got a 4.0 GPA and a ton of friends; I can’t even imagine doing anywhere near that well at another school.”

   “So wearing girl’s clothes doesn’t bother you at all?”

   “Not at all. My only concern it that when I graduate I will have to go back to guy’s clothes to get a job. I can’t see myself transitioning… you know having surgery to become a woman… sort of. So that means I’ll have to make some sort of adjustment in how I dress.”

   Mom was quiet as we negotiated beautiful downtown Corvallis. As we cruised up highway 99 she broke her silence.

   “So you’ve become immersed in the cross-dressing culture?”

   “I suppose you could say that. All I know is I like my new wardrobe and being able to express my emotions without worrying about what other people will think about me. I’ve not experience even one unkind word from anyone at Secure Haven. It’s a whole new experience.”

   “I see.”

   She was quiet again as we cruised through the countryside.

   “Have you given any thought to what you might like to do when you grow up?”

   “I’m not sure, but given my love of learning, I thought I might consider teaching. Dr. Cromwell and I have talked about it and she seems to think I’d do well in that field.”

   “That’s something to consider. You know Oregon State in Corvallis has a teaching program that’s rated pretty high.”

   “Yes, Dr. Cromwell told me that. She says in my senior year, I’ll have the opportunity to take some courses there, and that they have a great roommate matching system that accommodates non-standard gender matching.”

   “So would you consider continuing there as you are at Secure Haven?”]

   “I haven’t made up my mind, but if I attend classes in my senior year, it might be best. It would avoid confusion later.”

   “Don’t you think that would only put off the need to change back and make it more difficult?”

   “Yes, I suppose it might. I’ve been thinking about that. I mean right now I have no idea just how the experience of Secure Haven will affect how I live my life as an adult.”

   “What about Christmas break? I kind of expected to see you come down from your room in boy clothes.”

   “I thought I would, but when push came to shove, I couldn’t bring myself to buck the system even if it was only to go home for Christmas. Wearing boy clothes on campus just seems wrong.”

   “OK, I guess I can see that. So those two suit cases. You said they’re full of girl’s clothes. Don’t tell me you’re bringing home you laundry.”

   “No not my laundry. I started packing for the two weeks and, well, I packed enough changes of clothes for a fresh change for every day plus three or four possible changes.”

   “Sounds like you intend to wear them at home.”

   “I know. I know it sounds crazy, but when I started packing what I learned in the Fashion class that first week kicked in and I started putting together outfits from my wardrobe. I didn’t even consider the fact they were girl’s clothes; they were just my clothes.”

   “Did you bring any of your boy clothes? Not that it matters. You have plenty at home.”

   “Yeah, they are in my backpack.”

   “Again, what are you going to do with two suitcases of girl’s clothes over Christmas?”

   “I don’t know. I suppose that in the back of my mind I thought I’d wear them.”

   Mom was silent for a long while. Long enough for me to think about where my mind was when I packed. Sure there was good reason to wear those clothes at Secure Haven, but no so much at home. But still the idea of boy clothes seem foreign somehow. ‘Am I losing my mind? Have I gone over to the dark side?”

   “Well if you going to wear them at home, we’d better bring your grandmother up to speed. How do you intend to do that?”

Chapter 20
coming out

   “Hi Grandma. It’s Blair.”

   “Hi Blair. So I take it you’re home. I missed your help at the food panty Thanksgiving dinner.”

   “Yeah, coming home for a four day weekend didn’t seem to be a good idea. I had a lot of studying to do.”

   “And that seems to have paid off. I’m quite proud of your 4.0. Before last year, you were a good student, but never achieved a 4.0 average. Secure Haven Academy seems to agree with you. I assume you settled in easily”

   “Well the whole idea of that orientation week was to get over any rough spots and make all sure us newbies were up to speed with the standards of the school. We all met with our counselors every day to address any concerns we had. All in all by the start of regular classes I was pretty well ready for whatever happened.”

   “So you were able to make adjustments to fit in without any problems?”

   It seemed like we were both dancing around what we really should be say. I could see mom across the room waiting for me to break the news to Grandma that I was dressing like a girl.

   “There were some things that I had to readjust my thinking on.”

   “Oh? What sort of things?”

   “Ah… well the school supplies clothes for you to wear.”

   “Oh, I didn’t know they had a uniform for the school. Is it an ugly uniform?”

   “It’s not exactly a uniform. It’s like they want to make sure that everyone is dressed similarly so that none of us feels out of place.”

   “I wondered about that. Your mother told me that you weren’t to pack very many clothes.”

   “Yeah, I guess that one of the reasons for the high tuition is they make sure we have more than enough to wear.”

   “Do you like what they supplied?”

   “Oh yeah!” That came out a little more enthusiastic than I intended.

   Grandma chuckled a little.

   “Did you bring some home with you?”

   “Umm, yeah I did.”

   “I can’t wait to see you in them.”

   “About that, Grandma… what do you know about Secure Haven?

   “I know it’s a school for gentle boys and the they have an unorthodox way of dealing with the challenges that gentle boys face.”

   Again she seemed to be dancing around something; trying to convey a message without saying it right out.

   “Yeah, that pretty much would cover it. Grandma how much would you say would be too much for me to get the kind of education I’m getting at Secure Haven?”

   “Well, I’d say pretty much amount of money would be worth it to see you thrive like you are. Did I tell you that I’m proud of you getting a 4.0?

   “You may have mentioned it. But what I meant wasn’t money but just how unorthodox would be too unorthodox?”

   “Well, so long as you were able to accept it and it didn’t cause you any harm nothing would be too unorthodox.”

   “Suppose they wanted me to adopt a totally different lifestyle?”

   “Like?”

   “Like… say cross-dressing.”

   “Did they force you, or give you a choice?”

   ’She said, did, not would. Does she know already?’

   “Grandma, didn’t you mean, ‘Would they?’ not ‘Did they?’”

   “Blair, sweetheart, I looked them up when your mom approached me about helping with tuition. I saw the picture saying ‘Secure Haven Academy, a school for gentle boys’ with the picture of campus with the students walking around.”

   “The one with all the girls in it?”

   “Yes, that’s the one. I called the school and talked with the headmistress. A very nice lady who assured me that while they encouraged such things that it would be abhorrent to them to force it.

   “Blair, please don’t be offended, but I’ve always seen your feminine side and thought that Secure Haven would be a perfect fit for you. Was I right?”

   “Yeah Grandma. I wasn’t really sure about the clothes until I wore them for a couple of days.”

   “So did you bring some home with you?”

   “Some? You could say that.”

   “Well then when can I get to see the new Blair?”

   “Any time I guess.”

   “Is your mother there?”

   “Grandma, I was afraid you’d reject me when you found out I liked it.”

   “Don’t be silly. You’re my grandchild. Grandson or granddaughter makes no difference so long as you are happy. You are happy aren’t you?”

   “Yes.”

   “Good, so if your mother is there, would you give her the phone? I want to talk with her.”

   “Sure.

   “Mom, Grandma wants to talk to you.”

   “Hi Mom… So you know… Blair was so worried about what… Yes, I think so… Well, the school has a psychologist that acts as a counselor… Well no, I can’t ask her. She’s bound by HIPPA rules… I’ll talk to Blair… OK, well why don’t you come for dinner? I’m doing Chinese take-out; there’s always plenty… OK, see you in an hour… Bye.

   “You heard. Grandma’s coming to dinner.”

   Just then Dad walked out of his office.

   “Hi Blair. What’s this about Mom coming to dinner? Blair’s still in his girl’s clothes.”

   “It’s alright. Your mom’s not so old that she doesn’t know her way around the internet. When I asked her if she’d help with tuition she looked up the school and knew that Blair would be encouraged to explore his feminine side. She told me she always figured that he had a strong feminine side but was too inhibited to explore it. Anyway, she wants to see Blair. As she put it, she has a ‘vested interest’ in seeing what he’s found.”

   Dad looked at me. I couldn’t read his mood. It was Mom and apparently Grandma’s idea to have me enroll in Safe Haven. He just gave in and let it happen.

   “After seeing how comfortable you were in girl mode at Thanksgiving, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you didn’t wear boy’s clothes on the way home. Now that my mother knows all about you, I guess I better get used to it. she was the last reason to keep it in check.”

   “Hon, let’s wait until tomorrow to discuss this. I think you need time to wrap your head around all this. I talked with Blair on the way home and well Blair’s future is still in the planning stage. Right now. I just want to enjoy having Blair home with us for the next two weeks. I’m sure your mother wants the same thing.

Chapter 21
Grandma loves it

   “Blair! Oh my, look at you. Can’t say I’m surprised. Love your outfit.”

   Grandma entered like a whirlwind when Mom opened the door. She just breezed right by Mom like she wasn’t even there. I’d never seen her so animated. I was on the end of the couch reading one of my required reading books for English; Grandma sat in the overstuffed chair next to it. I noticed mom standing by the front door that she’d just closed with an amused look on her face.

   “So, Blair tell me all about Safe Haven Academy. Do you like it?” Grandma wanted to know.

   I laid my book aside.

   “Oh yes Grandma. It’s a great school. I’m doing really well.”

   “I know, I know. Your mother has shared your report card with me. 4.00. She says your math and science classes are advanced classes. Have you made any friends? I know you didn’t have many in the school here.”

   I laughed a little. “Make that none here. But at Safe Haven I have lots of friends who come from all over the country. I’m in the drama club, the glee club and the chess club. Between them, I have more than a dozen friends that I hang out with. Then there’s my roommate. She’s from New York and has an accent. We’re really well paired. I help her with her science and math and she proof reads my papers for English and history because she’s really good in English. We help each other history to memorize all the dates and stuff. Of course there’s my big sister, Reagan. She’s a senior in high school. She’s been a great help in getting settled in. She keeps tabs on me and answers any questions I have about how things are done at Safe Haven.

   “Do all the boy wear skirts and dresses? The picture on the website shows one girl in shorts.”

   “I think all the students in middle school and younger do. Some of the high school students wear different kinds of pants and sometimes shorts in the spring.”

   “So you have all the clothes you need.”

   “Mostly. I need to get some warm tights and some leggings to wear under my dresses and maybe some ankle boots. It’s getting pretty cool out and my legs are freezing sometimes.”

   “Oh good. Maybe your mother and I can take you shopping and get them for you. What about accessories? Do you have any jewelry?”

   Just then Dad came in with the Chinese takeout and we settled into dinner. Between Mom and Dad they managed to get Grandma to talk about something other than Safe Haven and how well I was doing there. Oh, Grandma and Mom did get me out shopping. It was with a little bit of trepidation that I went. We did go to a mall a good bit away from Hillsboro and nothing would do but that I try on some dresses.

   While I’d come to enjoy expressing my feminine side in my mode of dress, I think that Mom and Grandma enjoyed parading me around en femme. En femme… that a phrase I learned from some of the older students. Christmas presents were all the accessories that a girl might need and a warm nightgown and a robe.

   I’m really fortunate to have been sent to Safe Haven. I can easily see a good future for me. The more I think about it, the more I think that when I go on to college I’ll major in early childhood education.