(The Story Thus Far: Born out of wedlock in 1929, Merritt Lane McGraw is about to enter kindergarten; he has spent nearly all of his first five years with his mother while she worked as a live-in maid and nanny for a wealthy young widow and her two daughters. Merritt’s mother, Evelyn, found herself in a torrid love affair with Viola Buckner, her employer, while the women’s daughters loved to treat Merritt as a little girl. Merritt was becoming more and more like a girl and the boy appears to find it natural. To escape the demanding sexual encounters with her employer (which Evelyn feels is sinful) and to take her son away from the feminine atmosphere of the estate, Evelyn left the Buckners and returned home to live with her parents. She soon married Bob Casey, the library clerk and former high school classmate, and they have moved into a second floor apartment above a craft and sewing supply store. Merritt’s days of enjoying “girl time” appear to have ended now that there’s a man in the house.)

Chapter 11: Into a Boy's World

That was the last time that summer that Evelyn allowed Merritt to be in a dress; she was mad at herself for getting carried away with his natural beauty and dressing him in Donna Mae's new dress. He really should have been a girl, but she realized that he was a boy and had to live in a boy's world and later in a man's world.

Her husband, Bob, worked patiently with him so that by the end of summer the boy could catch and throw a baseball with reasonable skill. Many times, he'd engage the boy's friend, Donna Mae, in the game of catch, and the game took on a bit of competitive spirit, with the girl occasionally outplaying Merritt.

Yet, Merritt didn't seem to mind, and often let out with a girlish giggle if he threw the ball errantly or his misplayed a toss from Donna Mae.

“You tricked me,” Merritt would say, with a twinkle in his eye, giggling at the same time.

“I did not,” she'd protest.

At which point Merritt would try to throw a fast ball at the girl, but if it was anywhere in her range, she usually caught it.

And the two children would giggle together.

“Merritt doesn't have a competitive bone in his body,” Bob said to Evelyn one night as they sat enjoying coffee after supper.

“He is a gentle soul, Bob,” she replied. “Who says a boy has to be competitive?”

“No one, I guess,” he answered. “It's just that as he gets older he'll need some of that competitiveness to survive in this world.”

“I don't see you as particularly competitive, Bob,” she said, with a smile. “And that's why I love you.”

*****
Merritt progressed through Gould Street Elementary School for the next five years. It was an aging school built of red sandstone in 1881, according to the huge cornerstone stuck near the ornate entrance of the school; it carried the smell of three generations of Riverdale grade school students, the musty smell of snow-dampened corduroy knickers that were worn by most of the boys in that era and the pungent odor of wet wool from the skirts and snowsuits worn by the girls.

“Mommy, I love school,” he told Evelyn many times. He hated to stay home if he had a cold or tummy ache.

He and Donna Mae walked to school together each day, sometimes joined by Edith Mooney who had created a threesome of nearly always inseparable friends. Edith lived down the block and was a tiny, pale-complexioned girl, whose Irish mother had married an immigrant from County Donegal who had come to the USA to work in Riverdale's many foundries. Edith had few clothes, since she was one of four children in a low-income household, but she was always cheerful and fun to be with.

The only thing Merritt hated about school occurred on Thursdays when the traveling physical education teacher came for his weekly sessions. In the earlier grades, he hadn't minded it so much since the games and exercises were co-educational, and not too difficult. But by 4th grade, the boys and girls were separated into different classes and Merritt found he was usually at the bottom in the class when it came to strength and games.

Most boys navigated the monkey bars easily, flipping from one rung to the next with agility, whereas Merritt found his arms too weak to get him further than the second rung.

He hated that, looking longingly over to where the girls were playing dodgeball or “Red Rover, Red Rover, let Edith come over.” Or, one of those fun games like “hide 'n seek” and “kick the can” that he enjoyed playing with Donna Mae and Edith on warm summer nights.

In 6th grade, there was a new physical education instructor, a Mr. Campbell, a man whose muscular arms and shoulders seemed to burst the seams of his shirt.

“What's with you girl?” he yelled at Merritt on day as the boy struggled to do push ups.

The boys around him heard the remark and giggled aloud.

Merritt reddened, and muttered an almost soundless “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, just get yourself toughened up,” the instructor said, not unkindly now.

Merritt was confused; at first he felt ashamed and disgusted with himself. He was not like other boys, it was obvious, and he knew he might be in for some shaming as a result. Yet, the thought of being called a girl excited him and ignited his old enjoyments of dressing and being girly.

The instructor obviously knew he had gone too far in calling him “girl,” and no longer sought to single Merritt out in front of the class. Instead, he quietly offered tips to the boy on how to do the exercises better and to strengthen himself. He never called Merritt “girl” again, and the boy came to like the giant of a man.

*****
“Hey Billy, aren't you walking home with us,” Merritt yelled after Billy Johnson, another boy who sometimes joined Donna Mae, Edith and himself in walks to and from school. It was a warm day for mid-October and it was the second day after the coach had called Merritt “girl” and one of the toughs had overheard the comment.

Billy had skipped ahead of the threesome, joining a group of toughs ahead. “Those boys are trouble,” commented Edith. “What's with Billy? He used to hate those guys.”

“I don't know,” Merritt said. “He's been strange the last two days, doesn't wanna be seen with us I guess.”

“Guess he doesn't wanna be seen with the girls,” Edith said.

“Yeah, I think he's been teased about always being with us,” Donna Mae said.

“But Merritt's not a girl,” Edith protested.

Donna Mae and Edith giggled at the remark, and Merritt, not knowing how to respond, soon joined in the giggling.

“But we like Merritt anyway,” Donna Mae said. “You're fun and you don't mind doing stuff with us. Do you, Merritt?”

Merritt blushed, nodding in agreement. The truth was, he loved doing girl “stuff,” as they said.

The group of toughs ahead halted suddenly, as if lying in ambush for the three friends.

*****
“Maybe we should cross the street,” suggested Merritt, seeing the group of boys lined on both sides of the sidewalk, which at that point skirted a park, making the area somewhat isolated.

“No, Merritt, that's what they want,” Donna Mae said. “Let's just walk ahead, right through 'em and dare 'em. They won't touch us; we're girls.”

“Maybe not you?” Merritt said, growing seriously fearful, and wondering whether he should turn and run in the other direction. He knew that would be fruitless, since they'd certainly catch him; he was not the fastest runner.

“Oh come on, Merritt, we'll walk on both sides of you,” Edith said.

It was apparent that they'd have to walk between the boys, all of them seeming to be taller and rougher than Merritt. Donna Mae's huskier body was some protection, he knew, as was the more wiry Edith, who was known for her feisty demeanor.

He didn't say it, but in truth he felt ridiculous being protected by two girls; after all, he was a boy. But, he hated fighting, and in his whole life had never been in a real fight with another person. He wanted to like people and to be liked in return.

“Here comes the girls,” one of the boys announced sarcastically. Merritt knew him as Johnny Strait, an overweight repulsive boy who had already been teasing him for his ineptness in the physical education class.

“Mind your tongue, Johnny, or I'll tell your mom,” Edith warned, brazenly challenging the boy.

“Tell her, Edith, and so what!” The boy responded.

“You're dad'll knock you about,” Edith said. “I know he will.”

“A your mother's a whore,” the fat Johnny taunted.

“Shut your mouth, Johnny,” Donna Mae said. “Or, I'll give you what for.”

“Who's the girl in between you two?” This reference to Merritt came from a short, muscular lad Merritt knew from his class, a boy who as constantly in trouble of the teacher. Merritt's success in his class work had already tabbed him as “teacher's pet,” and “brown nose.”

“You know who it is,” Donna Mae said. “Now, let us by.”

The three continued walking, Donna Mae having to nudge one of the boys off the sidewalk to get by. The boys did nothing, but begin to heckle, calling Merritt and “girl,” a “sissy” and a “fairy.” Merritt grew flush and wanted to run, but moved slowly and deliberately between his two protectors, feeling shame and revulsion for himself.

He noticed Billy Johnson, their onetime friend, hanging in the background, saying nothing. Edith eyed him, saying finally, “You joining us, Billy?”

“No I guess I'll stay here,” he murmured.

“He doesn't play with girls,” came a parting shot from Johnny Strait.

*****
“See I told you they're a bunch of cowards,” Donna Mae said once the three had reached the end of the park and turned down 14th Street to their homes.

“I'm such a sissy, I guess,” was all Merritt could say. “I was scared.”

“Me too,” confessed Edith. “But you were brave, Merritt. All of us were to challenge them.”

“Yes, you were Merritt, and we love you,” added Donna Mae.

Merritt tried to shake the hopelessness that he felt about himself, being so unable to protect himself due to his ineptitude as a boy. It was shameful, he realized, to be such a weak person; yet, his two friends praised his “bravery,” and it seemed they meant it.

“I'm so lucky to have two nice friends as you,” he said, finally.

Merritt's thoughts went to the times his mother dressed him years back as a girl. How he had enjoyed those times; he remembered, too, that Bethie, the daughter of Viola Buckner, with whom they had lived loved dressing him as a pretty girl, and how much he loved that. In recent days, his thoughts had turned to a desire to again be that pretty little girl, to be joining Donna Mae and Edith in their girlishness activities, dressed now as they were on that warm October day in plaid, pleated skirts and white and pink blouses, their hair tied down by headbands. Why wasn't he a girl?

As if reading his thoughts, Edith blurted out: “You're so much like us, Merritt. Just one of us girls.”

The girl stopped in her tracks, grabbing Merritt's arm, stopping him too. “I didn't mean that. It just popped out.”

Merritt reddened. “Oh that's OK. I like being with you if you'll still like me.”

“We do,” both girls said in unison.

Merritt's shame grew, as did his joy. He was shamed in being so pathetic as a boy, yet he found joy in being tagged as “one of the girls.”

*****
Merritt wanted to share his thoughts that night with his mother, but his stepfather was off that day from work. The library schedule had him working many Sundays, in exchange for having a weekday off.

He found his mother in the kitchen, fixing supper, while Bob Casey sat at the kitchen table. They were talking money, again, he noticed.

“I don't how I can find the $45 for the rent,” he heard his mother say.

“Can't you ask your dad for a loan?” his stepfather asked.

“They don't have it either,” she said. “That bartending job doesn't pay that well, you know.”

“It's better than what the library pays,” Bob said. “I wish I could go back in the factory.”

“Oh, Bob, you know how you hated that.”

His mother looked at her son, noticing his flushed face. “Something wrong, dear.”

Merritt nodded “no,” and said: “Can I have a glass of milk and a cookie?”

“Of course,” she said, still not assured the boy was OK.

“Well, you'll have to figure out something to pay the rent,” Bob said.

She poured the milk into a glass and took two cookies from the jar, both her homemade peanut butter cookies that were always so luscious.

“Mrs. Swenson suggested I could work a few hours a week for her in the shop below,” she volunteered to her husband.

“You shouldn't have to work darling,” Casey said. “A man has to take care of his family.”

“But we need the money, and you know how much she liked me when I worked their during the holiday season. She says I'm the best worker she's ever had.”

“It's just not right,” he said.

Listening to the discussion and the knowledge that a “man” had to care and earn money needed for his family. It was a man's job, and someday, he realized he'd be a man and have to care for his family. He felt he'd never be “man enough” to fulfill that role.

*****
Evelyn went to work for the Swenson's, staffing the store Saturdays and working weekdays while Merritt was in school. The Swensons learned she was an accomplished dressmaker and seamstress and suggested she could use their workshop and its machine to begin taking in clothes to repair and even to beginning to make custom dresses, blouses and skirts.

“When we first started, we had someone who could sew with us and she built up a good business, but then she moved away,” Hilda explained one day.

“I'd like to try that, since Merritt can be upstairs and call me if he needs anything,” she responded.

It turned out to be an ideal arrangement, as customers still wanting to preserve their old clothes during these last days of the Great Depression soon learned of the skill and speed of Evelyn's hands and flocked to Swenson's to have their clothes repaired or let out or brought in, as their weight changed, or they passed the clothes down to other family members.

“Evelyn can fix it,” became the word throughout the neighborhood. Within a few months, as December approached, Evelyn was working nearly 30 hours a week, earning nearly $1 an hour, a large amount in 1941 for any woman.

“You shouldn't have to work,” her husband complained.

“But it's helping to pay the rent, honey,” she argued.

“It's a man's job to provide for his wife and child,” he persisted.

“It's just temporary,” she replied. “You'll soon get your promotion, dear.”

Bob let the argument drop. He knew the family needed her income, which some weeks was more than his. And, promotions were still frozen in the library, and even though he had begun supervising all the clerks he was still getting the basic clerk wage.

As the word got around the neighborhood that Evelyn was working, Bob found himself heckled at Murphy's Tap by his drinking friends. He went to the bar only once or twice a week where the patrons either worked in the foundry or the tannery or were still unemployed, but they all seemed to echo the same litany: A man should be the wage-earner in the family and “keep 'em barefoot and pregnant.”

Even though Bob loved his work at the library, he was shamed by it. “It's not real work,” one drunken acquaintance said over their dime beers one night.

“Men need a job where they sweat and get their hands dirty,” said another, flanking Bob.

Pete Murphy, the owner, overheard the conversation and interrupted. “Look Bob's doing the best he can for his family, boys. Lay off him.”

“Sorry, mate,” said the first man. “Let me buy you a drink.”

The sting remained. Bob reflected as he tried to go to sleep that night. The men at the bar may have been drunks, but they were right: He didn't do “real work,” and it rankled him that maybe he was not a “real man.”

*****
Bob Casey's misguided desire to become a “real man” received fulfillment in early December, 1941. It came unexpectedly on the first Sunday of the month, where he and Evelyn gathered in front of their Zenith radio to listen to the New York Philharmonic broadcasts. It had become a Sunday ritual for the two of them, as they had learned to enjoy classical music. They quipped they must have been the only two people in the flats listening to the broadcast, which was beamed across the nation.

During the broadcasts, Merritt stayed in his bedroom, often writing at his tiny desk. He loved to write and was already composing short stories, painstakingly written in precise penmanship that won the praise of his teachers. Sometimes he drew as well, designing dresses as he often day-dreamed about wearing pretty dresses and being a girl. He hid those drawings from his parents who had become concerned about the boy's persistent effeminate mannerisms and his close friendship with Donna Mae and Edith.

Merritt entered the living room, where his parents were listening to the concert, when he heard the music suddenly stop and a deep voice stating: “The Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii.” It was Dec. 7, 1941, a day that would live in “infamy” in the words of President Franklin D. Roosevelt as he declared war one day later against the Japanese Empire.

Three days later, Bob Casey went to enlist in the Navy, where he was accepted. His manhood was now restored, he felt, as he went off to war two weeks later, just before Christmas, assigned to Great Lakes Naval Station boot camp.

“You enlisted?” his wife screamed at Bob when he informed her of his actions. “Without asking me?”

“What will Merritt and I do without you?” she continued.

“You'll do fine,” he said. “You're making all this money now, and you'll get an allowance from the Navy.”

“Can't I follow you?” she pleaded.

“I don't think so. I'll probably be sent to sea.”

Though boot camp was located a short two hours away by train, he would be allowed home only one weekend in the next six before being sent of to his war assignment. And Bob Casey went off to war, completing boot camp and after a three-day liberty, being sent out to a receiving station on San Francisco's Treasure Island where he would eventually be assigned to an LST that was used to land troops. Because he was a skilled typist and had clerical experience, Casey was sent briefly to yeoman's school and then was assigned to the crew of LST 164, based out of San Diego.

“I'm still doing clerical work, which keeps me close to the captain,” he wrote to Evelyn. “But my duty station is as coxswain of an LVT. That’s kind of adf landing craft. I'll be heading the craft to the beach loaded with marines and supplies as they attack. That'll get me in action. I want to slap the dirty little Jap. Laugh. Love you and Merritt, Bob.”

*****
Merritt realized that the war changed everything in his life. His mother now worked fulltime, leaving him to come home from school to their apartment, where she trusted him to stay out of trouble. And, Merritt honored that trust, even coming to realize that he was now the “man” of the family. He tried mightily to become strong and to contribute to support the war effort by helping his mother.

He followed the progress of the war in the daily newspaper and the occasional Time magazine his mother brought up from the Swensons when they finished their copy.

Yet, as much as he tried, he continued to be pathetic in gym class and to be an awkward and ineffectual player of sports; nonetheless, he soon gained several friends among other boys who enjoyed his easy humor and congenial ways. In short, he sought to bury the girl within him. Yet, as he struggled into his first year of junior high school which began with 7th grade as he turned 12, he never lost his feelings of girliness. Those feelings remained within his person, hidden from all others, except his mother who eventually took joy in dressing him as Marilyn on various occasions.

With the war effort in full swing, his mother left her job with the Swenson's and took a job at the large hosiery factory that was located in loft buildings in the downtown; there she became a lead worker in the making of parachutes for the Army, where she earned a good union wage.

*****
“Who's going to handle your dressmaker customers?” Hilda Swenson asked Evelyn when she announced she would begin working at the hosiery works.

“Oh, I'll do those on weekends and nights, when I can,” she answered.

“But you've got almost a fulltime business going here,” Hilda said. “You've been an asset for the store and yourself.”

“I know Hilda, but what I'm doing is for the war effort. I must support Bob while he's in the Pacific.”

Hilda nodded. She realized Evelyn was doing the right thing; besides her own husband, Maury, had left work in the store to go work in the shell-casing factory on the north side.

Merritt, helping his mother in her dressmaker area at the rear of the store, overheard the conversation. “Besides, I can help out more too, mom,” he said.

“I know you can, honey, but you don't have to,” his mother said.

“But I want to mom, for dad and all the army and navy men at war.”

“That's great Merritt,” commented Hilda Swenson. “But, you're mom's right. You still can go out a play with the boys or others at your age. There's plenty of time for working.”

“But I can help. I know how to sew. Don't I mom?”

“Yes, you do honey, and you're good at it, but you don't have to.” Evelyn smiled at her son, whose sweet demeanor brought such joy.

Thus it was that Merritt, age 12 and a 7th grader, became a dressmaker, working most days after school and on Saturdays, repairing dresses and skirts that were brought to the stores and sometimes working with his mother after she got home from work to custom make dresses. The boy stayed mainly in the workshop area, while his mother met with customers by appointment at night or on weekends. Other repair jobs were taken in by Hilda Swenson in the craft shop. As a result, just about all the hands-on sewing was done by Merritt, and the boy's skills grew.

Like his precise handwriting, Merritt's sewing was done precisely and with great attention to detail.

“There's never an errant stitch,” Evelyn said one day to her son, praising his work in finishing a particularly delicate dress.

“I want your customers to love your work, mom,” he said.

“They do, honey, and I want so often to tell them you did the work.”

“Oh mom, don't. The kids at school will hear about it then.”

“I know honey and I won't tell.”

She cradled the boy in her arms, drawing his fragile slender frame into her soft bosom. She caressed his longish, light brown hair, so light and fluffy to the touch. Evelyn loved watching her son work on the sewing machine or on the cutting table; his hands were slender and beautiful to watch, almost dancing daintily as they worked. She so wished her son could be open and honest about his love of dressmaking and soft dainty things, but she knew in this era of growing war mentality that boys had to be the picture of strength and masculine features.

“I should be a girl, mommy,” he said, tears rolling down as he buried his face in his mother's breasts.

By now, Evelyn, too was crying, wishing this lovely child could indeed become the girl he wanted to be.

“Well, you can't honey,” Evelyn said, composing herself. “Now, let's get back to work. We have work to finish.”

“I know, mommy.” Merritt felt so lucky. He loved his mother so completely.

*****
“Come on Merritt, join us,” Edith pleaded again as she stood next to Merritt's locker as school ended. It was three weeks into the fall school year, and Edith asked Merritt again, as she done so many days before, to join her and Donna Mae in some after-school fun.

“Can't gotta get home,” he answered. “Mom's counting on me.”

“Counting on you? For what?” Edith probed. “You never say. Is she that strict?”

Merritt looked at his friend, her bright blue eyes sparkling in her pale freckled face. So plain was this girl, but with eyes that seemed to dance with a welcomeness that would certainly serve her well in future life.

He wanted so badly to tell her the truth that he needed to get to work on another batch of clothes that were awaiting in the dressmaker's shop. He wanted to share the joy he got working on them with his two close friends, who no doubt would also be impressed with the idea. They had already recognized his good taste in girl's clothes, as he had joined them in shopping trips to the mall.

Even though he trusted both friends to keep his secret, he felt he dare not trust them with his secret. They might just blurt out the truth by accident, or perhaps be forced by Billy Johnson or one of his roughneck friends to tell.

“I just gotta help out at the store,” he said.

“Yeah, we miss you Merritt,” chimed in Donna Mae, who just arrived at the locker.

“I miss you guys,” he admitted. “But I better go.”

*****
“Some friends of yours are here to see you,” Hilda Swenson announced several days later as Merritt labored away on the sewing machine.

Merritt was in the throes of stitching a particularly fragile piece of cloth for a wedding dress his mother had designed for a customer, and Merritt had suggested attaching a few beads of lace to enhance the beauty of the dress. He was deeply in concentration, since he wanted the lace to be truly a positive addition to an already lovely dress.

“Oh,” he said, not looking up.

“Yes, hi Merritt,” he heard. It was Donna Mae's voice.

Startled, he stopped the machine and looked up in shock. “What are you two doing here?”

Donna Mae and Edith were framed in the doorway, watching him intently.

“So this is what you do every day!” Donna Mae almost in astonishment.

“What a lovely dress you're working on,” Edith added.

“Oh it's mom' design,” he said quickly. “I'm just helping her out since she works fulltime now making parachutes.”

“Wow, that's lovely, and look at all the dresses you have hanging around. Did you do those?” Donna Mae asked, her eye circling the workshop.

Merritt blushed, nodding shyly.

“So you're afraid to tell anyone you're doing this?” Edith asked, rescuing the boy from his embarrassment.

He nodded. “I already get teased enough by other boys.”

“Oh we won't tell, Merritt. You can trust us,” Donna Mae said.

Merritt answered: “I know, I wanted to tell you two, my two best friends, but I just didn't want to take a chance. I'm really helping mom and Mrs. Swenson out doing this. Mom had built up a good business and I could sew a bit. Besides I earn some money.”

“But I know you like it,” the taller girl responded.

“And you look so cute in that smock,” said Edith, a smile that betrayed an understanding that she knew Merritt had worn the slight blue lace smock and stuck clips in his longish hair to look just a bit girlish.

“It's just to work in,” he tried to dismiss the reference. But he knew both Donna Mae and Edith knew the truth. Earlier, he had posed before the workshop's mirror using fairly typical feminine modeling stances.

“We love you, Merritt,” Donna Mae said. “You're our dearest friend.”

“Yes, we're the three Musketeers,” said Edith.

“Musketeers?” queried Donna Mae. “They were men.”

“Well,” Edith pondered. “How about the 'three musket girls?'”

“Yes, that's it,” giggled Donna Mae.

She dragged Merritt out of his chair and pushed him in front of the mirror, placing herself at one side of him and Edith on the other. “See, the 'three musket girls.'”

“That's not a good name,” Edith protested.

“I guess it sounds stupid,” Donna Mae agreed.

“We're like the 'Andrews Sisters,'” Merritt said, referring to a popular singing group of the era.

“Yes,” Donna Mae said. “Hmmmmmmm. How about 'the Three Riverdale Sisters.'”

They all looked into the mirror, and Merritt knew his two friends also saw what he did: Three smiling 12-year-old girls looking back. They all laughed and for a moment, Merritt found true happiness.

*****
The autumn of 1942, with Merritt and his two friends beginning seventh grade in the Junior High School level, had followed a particularly bleak spring and summer, with the War still offering fear to the U.S. populace. The Philippines had fallen to the Japanese and bombs continued to fall on London; there were both Japanese and German submarine sightings and attacks on the shores of the Pacific and Atlantic.

“Will they bomb us here, mom?” Merritt asked his mother one night during an air raid test alert in October.

Such alerts were common, with everyone urged to darken their homes by turning off all lights and pulling their shades down so that enemy bombers would not be guided by lights. Mr. Swenson was an air raid warden and was outfitted with a white helmet, over the shoulder belt and straps and a flashlight. Street lights were off and as air raid warden his job was to patrol the block and look for any residents whose homes exuded light and to warn them to darken their places.

“I don't think so, honey, 'cause we're so far away from the oceans,” Evelyn answered. “Bombers would have trouble getting here.”

“But Edith's mom says Riverdale could be a target, 'cause we make so many machine parts here,” he said.

“I guess we can't be too safe,” his mother added.

Both of Merritt's girl friends took on work that, like Merritt's role in freeing his mother to work in a defense factory, helped the war effort. Donna Mae became a fulltime baby-sitter for a neighbor who had taken a second shift job at the same hosiery works as Evelyn. Edith became a volunteer for the Red Cross, working with her mother in preparing overseas packages for the U.S. armed forces.

It was only at school and on Sundays when the three friends could be together. They ate at the same cafeteria table for lunch, often joined by other girls in their classes. Merritt was usually the only boy in the group, but he found these moments so special, giggling along with the girls, discussing clothes and the pop singers or male movie stars of the day.

Merritt felt at ease among the girls, and they all seemed to accept him. His voice still hadn't changed and had a “little girl quality” that fit in with the group. He was never shy among them.

Since all the seventh graders were new to the school, all coming from tightly knit neighborhood elementary schools, most of the pupils were still feeling a bit ill at ease. No boys seemed to pay much attention to Merritt, it seemed, and he joined the girls without much comment or teasing.

Some of the boys from his old school were there, including several who had taunted him earlier; for the most part he effectively dodged them in the larger school, though Fat Johnny (one of his earlier tormenters) was in his English and physical education classes. There, Fat Johnny was linked with about a half dozen others, including Merritt, who were particularly inept at keeping up with the exercises, either because they were too fat, too weak or too awkward.

Merritt nearly cried when he realized he'd have to be in gym classes and be expected to do muscular activities. It embarrassed him immensely to be considered weak, as he recalled the grade school incident when he was called a “girl” by the traveling physical education teacher.

“Do we have to do this?” Fat Johnny complained one day in gym when he was assigned to team up with Merritt to do exercises.

“Yes,” Merritt said, not pleased with having to partner with his former tormenter, now a sweating hulk of soft flesh.

“I can't get up,” Johnny whined, as he attempted a sit-up with Merritt holding his legs.

“Sure you can,” Merritt encouraged.

And the boy struggled, finally getting his thick body in an upright position.

“There, I did it,” Johnny wheezed.

“We gotta do five,” Merritt said.

“I'll never make it,” the other boy said.

“Sure you will,” Merritt urged. But, all Fat Johnny could do was two.

Merritt suddenly felt sorry for the boy, who faced lots of insults as well, due to his weight and the fact that he had noticeable breasts that flopped about under his shirt.

“Where's your bra, Johnny?” “Let me see your boobs!” “Look at the fat girl.” came the taunts to Johnny. It was humilating.

Merritt hated trying to do chin-ups, or pull-ups, as they were later called. The fact was: his arms were too weak to have him complete even one. What made it doubly worse was that the entire class viewed his ineptitude, since there was only one chinning bar and the students lined up awaiting their turn, watching the others try before them.

The gym teacher was understanding, recognizing that the seventh graders were young and still developing. But he lectured them severely about getting fit.

“Someday, you'll all be men and you may be asked to defend your country, as your dads, brothers and neighbors are doing now,” he began reflecting on the war effort.

“So you need to be strong and fit and real men,” he added. “I don't care what you did today, but what you will do tomorrow and in the future. You owe it to your family and your country to become strong, tough men.”

Merritt thought of his stepfather, now serving in the Pacific as a sailor, braving the difficult waters teaming with Japanese submarines. He was determined to strengthen himself and become worthy of Bob Casey's heroism.

*****
When Merritt entered eighth grade in September, 1942, World War II was nine months old, a period that continued to be dark and foreboding. News reports from the battlefields of the Pacific and Europe and Africa were spotty, brightened only by successes in the Saharan desert against the German troops of Field Marshal Rommel. The United States had been run out of the Philippines by the pesky Japanese, who humiliated the remaining troops on Corregidor Island by engaging them in the horrific Bataan Death March. Meanwhile, at home Japanese and German submarines were sinking Allied ships daily in the Atlantic and threatening the U. S. Pacific fleet.

Merritt and his mother listened to the radio each night for news of the war, focusing mainly on reports from the Pacific where Bob Casey was serving; so far his LST was still in U. S. coastal waters, training with troops on practice amphibious landings off San Diego. Nonetheless, there was real fear that LST’s, which were poorly protected with only 20 mm and 40 mm guns and no depth charges, would be easy targets for Japanese submarines.

“Mommy,” Merritt asked one night. “Shouldn’t I be doing more for daddy and the war? I’m just sewing dresses. How is that helping?”

Evelyn, sitting next to her son on the couch, caressed his light brown hair and smiled. “That’s so sweet to think of that, honey, but you’ve only just turned 13. You’re time will come.”

“Maybe I should be doing some war work,” he suggested.

“You are doing war work,” Evelyn replied. “You’re repairing clothes so that women and girls don’t have to buy new ones, saving the cloth for the soldier’s uniforms. And, you’re making it possible to keep my business going while I make parachutes to save the lives of our pilots.”

“I know,” the boy nodded. “But mommy, I think daddy is so brave.”

“He is honey, but so will you when it’s time.”

“No mommy, I can never be brave. I’m not like other boys, am I? I’m afraid of them so often.”

“Oh, my darling,” Evelyn said, recognizing how this sweet boy must feel among so many rougher boys of his school.

“You’ll be brave when it counts, really,” she said, reassuringly. Something told her that her gentle, almost girlish son would somehow find the strength and courage to meet life’s challenges.

“You think so, mommy?”

“Oh yes.”

Chapter 12: Girl Fun

“Merritt honey,” Evelyn told her son one Friday night in early fall of 1942. “We’re going to visit Mrs. Buckner at her estate Sunday.”

“We are, mommy?” he answered excitedly. “Will Bethie be there?”

“I don’t know, honey, because she’s in college now. She’s 21.”

“I know and I bet she is beautiful, too,” the boy said beaming.

“Well she might be there, Merritt, since Beth goes to Downing College here in town. We’ll see.”

It had been several years since Evelyn had visited her former employer and onetime lover, Viola Buckner. She had resisted Viola’s efforts to rekindle their girl-to-girl love affair once she became engaged to Bob Casey; Viola had visited several times, always bringing Bethie along to play with Merritt. Always, Bethie treated Merritt as a little girl during the visits, reliving their earlier times together, and Merritt loved the attention, much to his mother’s chagrin.

Evelyn had been determined once she married Bob to live what she considered a “normal” life with a man and her son; her feminine relationships were a thing of the past, she felt. And, she wanted to separate her son from the girlish atmosphere of the Buckner household.

In truth, she had been less than successful in forgetting about her love affair with Viola. She realized that Bob Casey would never be as passionate a lover as Viola. Though he tried in his own shy gentle way to satisfy Evelyn, he was too restrained in his love-making, making it hard for Evelyn to return any passion and he always entered her far too quickly during their love-making and then dosed off soon after he was done. As he finished, Evelyn yearned for more caresses and kisses, and dreamed of feeling Viola’s strong hands massaging her soft inner thighs and her full breasts. She wanted to feel the athletic firmness of the older woman’s strong body, to run her hands over her muscular shoulders and sinewy arms, so in contrast to Bob’s soft and non-athletic body.

And, for Merritt, it seemed he never lost his girlish nature, even though Evelyn and Bob tried to introduce him to more boyish activities.

Viola drove herself in her Packard to pickup Evelyn and Merritt that Sunday, since the O’Hara’s no longer worked for her; Michael, her former chauffeur and yardman, had been drafted into the Army and Mary, the cook and maid, had gotten a job in the war plant making tanks and began living in an apartment in town.

“You look great, Evie,” Viola said as Evelyn and Merritt entered her car.

“Thank you, Vi, and you do too,” Evelyn responded sincerely. The older woman wore a stylish fedora and a scarf over a smart dark blue dress with short sleeves that exposed her muscular arms. Her hair was cropped short and she wore bright red lipstick, contrasting her pale face.

“And such a handsome gentleman, you have become, Merritt,” commented Viola, looking at the boy dressed in dark blue trousers and a light blue dress shirt with a tie.

“Thank you, Mrs. Buckner,” he answered politely.

“You really look great, Vi, but I’m afraid I’ve gotten too fat,” Evelyn said. “It’s hard to keep on a diet when I work so many hours at the hosiery works.”

“Honey, you look just fine to me, just fine,” Viola said, giving the younger woman a wink.

“We’re just here for a visit, Vi,” Evelyn said. “I am in love with Bob and he’s fighting a war.”

“I understand,” Viola said. But Evelyn wasn’t sure that Viola did, and she was worried about how this first visit in some years would go. She wanted so badly to remain loyal to her husband, but seeing Viola, sitting next to her and sensing the familiar smell of her perfume was intoxicating.

“Well Bethie be there, Mrs. Buckner?” Merritt asked from the back seat.

“Not right away, Merritt, because she’s been helping out at the USO canteen downtown,” Viola said. “There are lots of sailors coming up on the North Shore Line from Great Lakes on weekends, so Beth’s been working there as a volunteer. She’ll be home later and you’ll get a chance to see her.”

Merritt smiled, so eager to see the girl who had mentored him during their days living at the Buckner estate.

*****
Viola had prepared a traditional English tea time visit for Evelyn and Viola, complete with her favorite tea set, with gold-trimmed rims and dainty flowers in pinks and blues and greens. She wheeled in a tea cart that also contained biscuits (although to Merritt they looked like cookies).

“Do you mind drinking out of these dainty cups, Merritt?” Viola asked the boy as they were gathered in Viola’s sitting room. “Perhaps I should get you a soda or milk or something?”

“No, this is fine ma’am,” he responded.

In truth, he enjoyed being included with the two women in their quaint tea party; they had engaged the boy in their conversation and Viola was impressed with his knowledge about women’s clothes.

“So he’s been doing your sewing for you, Evie, while you work at the hosiery place?” Viola asked.

“Yes, Vi. And he’s so good at it, as good as I am.”

“Oh mom,” Merritt protested. “You’re still the best.”

“No honey, everyone says you do great work,” his mother said. “I’ve never seen a boy who is so patient and precise in his work. Look at his long fingers, Vi.”

“Let me see, dear,” Viola said, beckoning the boy to come to her.

He presented both hands to the older woman, and she took them in hers. “You have beautiful hands, my dear, and such lovely nails. It’s clear you don’t bite them.”

“He keeps them a little bit long to help in his work,” Evelyn explained.

Merritt blushed, knowing how proud he was to be praised for his lovely hands, but growing fearful that he was not being enough of a boy, that his feminine nature was too prominent.

“Mother, is this my Merry and Miss Evelyn?” came a booming, exuberant voice.

It was Elizabeth her youngest daughter who rushed into the room at the moment, seeing her mother holding the boys hands.

“So glad you could get here while Evelyn and Merritt are still here, Beth,” she said. “You’re late.”

“Hi Merry and hi Evelyn,” Beth said. “Oh, mom, there was such a gang of sailors it was hard to get away.”

“I know honey and I’m proud of you.”

Merritt beamed with happiness at seeing Beth, his old friend. She was now 21 years old and a college senior. Her face lost none of its youthful sweetness, a bit round with a page-boy haircut, making her look a bit young for her age. She had none of the hardness of her mother’s body. She wore a white blouse, plaid skirt, saddle shoes and white ankle sox, exposing soft smooth legs.

“And Merritt, or can I still call you Merry?” Beth continued.

“We’d prefer Merritt,” Evelyn said.

“I know, since he’s in junior high now, and I know you don’t want us to call him Merry,” Beth said. “But he’s still just about the prettiest boy I ever saw, Miss Evelyn.”

Merritt grew hot as the conversation continued. He remembered how Beth and her friend used to dress him as a little girl and play dolls with him. He remembered how they took him to the carnival rides dressed as a girl when he was about nine, and every one said he was such a “pretty little girl.” Those were fond memories.

“May I show Merritt my room?” Beth finally asked after the small talk had ended.

“Sure, go ahead, Beth, I want to visit more with Evie,” Viola said, then turned to Evelyn. “Is that OK?”

“Sure, go ahead honey,” Evelyn said. “I know how much you always enjoyed Beth.”

The two young people skipped out of the room. Evelyn and Viola watched them go.

“He’s still a bit feminine, isn’t he, Evie?” Viola asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s natural with him,” Evelyn responded. “Bob and I tried everything to make more of a boy out of him, but he seems to gravitate always to girls. He has no real boys as friends.”

“But I know you have to make him more of a boy or else his life will be miserable.”

“I know, and it already is. He’s being teased a lot for not being strong or good at sports, but he takes such joy in sewing. Only his two closest girl friends know he does the sewing and they so far haven’t told anyone else.”

Viola changed the subject suddenly. She came over and sat next to Evelyn on the couch, grabbing the younger woman’s hand.

“I miss you so,” Viola said. “I need to feel you, to caress you, to kiss you.”

Evelyn wanted to move away from the other woman, not because she too would not have welcomed some impassioned love-making but because she felt it would be wrong. She wanted to again feel the woman hands all over her, she wanted to feel Viola’s lips on the lips of her pussy, she wanted to orgasm so badly.

“I know Vi, but I can’t really.”

“I know honey, but I just wanted to let you know how I feel.”

*****
“I hope you like my room,” Beth said as she led Merritt into her room, and the thought excited the boy.

The room was pink and frilly, having become an even more girlish than Merritt remembered it. Beth had an ornate four-poster, with a lace top cover, and a matching duvet. Fluffy pillows held a large white stuffed bunny, and a four shelved white bookcase was stuffed with dolls.

“There’s Shirley,” squealed Merritt, as he rushed to the bookcase to grab the doll. He pulled it from the shelf, hugging he doll and then cradling it in his arms.

“I gave her a position of honor among all my dolls, Merry,” Beth said, smiling as she watched the boy’s exuberant joy at finding the doll he favored so many years before.

“I love you, Shirley,” he said. “I’ve missed you.” His voice was in a high, soothing register, almost motherly in tone.

“Don’t you have any dolls now, Merry?”

“No. Mommy doesn’t want me to play with dolls.”

“Yes, so mother told me. She warned me. Said I wasn’t to have you wear any dresses today.”

“I’m trying to be a boy, Bethie.”

Beth drew the boy to her, held him tight. She realized the two were the same height now, and he felt fragile in her arms.

“It must be hard for you,” Beth said.

“It’s OK, but I’m not much good at it . . . being a boy. My best friends are two other girls,” he said, somewhat embarrassed, even with Beth, to confess his feelings.

“But aren’t you helping your mother in her seamstress work?”

The boy’s face lightened up. “Oh yes, and I like it. I’ve even created a few dresses on my own.”

“Great. I’d love to see them sometime.”

“Maybe I could do a dress for you,” he suggested.

“Ooooooooooooh, I’d just love it, Merry,” Beth responded with glee.

“Nobody knows I do the seamstress work, because I’d get teased, I guess,” he said. “Mommy always says she created a couple of the dresses I made, but I think people are beginning to wonder how she could do it, ‘cause she’s working at the defense factory and there’s lots of overtime there.”

“Oh you poor child,” Beth said.

“I think we’re about the same size, Bethie,” the boy said. “I’ll work up a design for you, and see if you like it.”

“Oh that would be so nice of you, dear.” She took the boy in her arms.

“Remember how cute you looked when I dressed you all up, Merry?” Beth said changing the subject.

“I loved that, Bethie.”

“And I bet you’d be so pretty now if I could dress you up,” she said. “Even dressed as a boy, you look pretty, honey.”

“But mommy says I need to be a boy, since I’ll always be a man,” Merritt said.

“I know honey, and there’ll be no changing that.”

“Maybe some day, Bethie.”

“Maybe some day, what?”

“Boy’s can be made into girls.”

“Maybe, but I haven’t heard of that happening yet,” Beth said. “We both have different organs.”

“I guess so,” Merritt said.

The two finished the afternoon together dressing a few dolls, looking at Beth’s high school annuals and some old pictures, including a couple taken when Merritt was dressed as a little girl.

“You can’t tell that’s a boy, can you?” Beth asked, pointing at a picture when Merritt was dressed to look like Shirley Temple.

Merritt smiled. “No, she’s so pretty.”

“The prettiest little girl in the picture, I think,” Beth said.