It was the evening before the Halloween weekend.

Children were trickling into the big hall for Rutherford B. Hayes Middle School’s traditional fancy dress ball. There were male and female pirates, princesses with reluctant princes, cowboys and cowgirls, ballerinas (one with a VERY reluctant and embarrassed partner), zombies, ghosts … all hoping to win the prestigious price for the best disguise.

Blam!

For the third time that day I was pushed into the wall. Sigh, here we go again.

”Who do think you are? We don’t like trannys here! We told you to dress properly or else..!” followed by two expertly placed punches in my midriff and, when I had slipped to the floor, by a couple of kicks.

I couldn’t help myself admiring the shapely bare legs that delivered the kicks. No, it wasn’t a footballer or wrestler that delivered my usual afternoon beating. Here bare legs meant a girl. All the boys wore trousers. All the girls, and I mean absolutely all the girls, wore skirts or dresses. While there was no formal dress code the group pressure was enormous. And since my fellow student and teachers had decided that I didn’t comply … The sad thing was that I really was dressing as who I am. No crossdressing. No amount of paperwork brought from Norway could persuade them otherwise.

John got back from school and as usual he went straight to the kitchen and his milk and cookies. Well, he really was a high school freshman but he looked like an eleven-year old, people treated him like an eleven-year old so why couldn’t he act like an eleven-year old at times? He liked milk and cookies. As he was slurping his milk and stuffing his mouth with cookies his mother asked him how school had been. John, who was somewhat absentminded or if you want to be nice ”sometimes” got lost in his thoughts, started thinking back and to his surprise he realized it had actually been a very good day. John’s school-days quite seldom were very good.

Well, it's supposed to be silly

While this story is a sequel to “The Addict” it can be read separately (though I strongly recommend reading “The Addict” first).

Declaration: No puns were harmed in writing this story. Actually this story is no phun at all, sorry should have been has no puns at all. There is a risk that some people might consider it fun though I think there is more of a story than usual.

For once I was not depressed coming home from work. Unfortunately not being depressed meant that I finally had to do what I had put off for weeks: search my son’s room.

The principal of Millard Fillmore High School sighed as freshman James Johnson entered his office. Not that James wasn’t dressed very nicely. The white shirt was clean and neatly pressed. The shoes were new and a discreet black. The black pleated skirt was also clean and neatly pressed and only about two inches above the knees.

I feel very awkward but I finally have to talk with my son about his cross-dressing. We have known for a couple of months that he goes out partying dressed as girl together with his friends whenever my husband and I are away on week-ends but we haven't said anything. We wanted it to be his choice when/if he wants to bring it up with us.

The Producer sighed as he looked at the cast. He just as well should send them home from the theatre. What a situation! It could have been a producer’s dream: The leading lady stabbed at dress rehearsal. What could be better publicity for a detective play? The only problem was that the leading lady had been taken to hospital and wasn’t expected to recover for months while her understudy had been taken by the police.

This is NOT a funny story.

James and Martin were slowly walking away from the funeral of their classmate Stephen… no… of their classmate Susan, her parents at last, and too late, recognizing her true gender. As they had expected they had been the only ones from their school there. Susan’s parents deliberately had scheduled the funeral at noon on the Wednesday of end-of-term exam week and made it very clear that they didn’t want anyone from school to come.

Bru: So you are afraid that your son may be transgendered? So what, your child will still be the same person, only happier if you accept and support her.

Friend: Are you sure?

Bru: Sure, nearly 20 years ago some other friends of mine had twins. Fraternal twins, a girl and a boy. According to gender stereotyping the boy should be a great athlete like the father and the other artistic, sensitive and dance ballet and so on like their mother. Well, it sort of turned out that way.

Here are the last two episodes of "Difference".
I've also included the earlier episodes so this posting can be read as a standalone. Faithful readers can go directly to chapter 4 about halfway down.

The story continues immediately after we left Tom and the Headmaster last time.

This story is completely different from my story “Coming Out” and not in any way connected.
I usually write stories that basicly are nice. This isn't.
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It all began so well. I was coming back very satisfied from camp on a Sunday. I had made camp hell for no less than eight twelve-year-olds. One had even left before the end of camp! My personal record! Tears sweet tears. You’d think I would have been in trouble. Oh, no! I’m good! I know how to bully kids and other weak victims without exposing myself.

Principal’s office the morning of the first day officially declared ”Summer” by the school.

A tomboyish girl in black shorts and a red shirt tussled hair and scabs on her knees sits in one chair and in another we have a thin delicate boy with longish blond hair dressed in a red shirt and very nice long black trousers.

This story was written and published in April 2015, i.e. before DT announced his candidacy.

Washington DC, December 30, 2024.

The President of the United States of America stands looking out through a window in the Oval Office. She’s thinking about the events since her announcement the day after the election in November. She is still amazed and appalled how fast things moved since then. The pace has been unprecedented. How could so many so-called friends and allies, many of them in congress only through her support, turn against her like that? She had been a very successful president for 8 years and now this!

I’m sitting at our usual table at lunch. We boys are tired. Coach really put us through the wringer today. The girls had it easy today. I really like our group. We have kept together since middle school even though we have developed quite differently. Now we have almost become a high school parody; Peter the Jock, Annie the Cheerleader, Bill the Drug User, Doris the Geekette, Sammy the Nerd (me) and so on.

Coming towards us is Mr Popular, our sole newcomer. Mark transferred to our high school a month ago. Smart, rich, good-looking (cute according to the girls) this Senior prefers to join us lowly Juniors because, as he puts it with his broad smile, we are just that little bit less narrow-minded than the rest.

Headmaster’s office

In front of the desk sits Peter, a rather cute, “petite” boy. The rumor in school is that he’s gay. At present he’s dressed in a loose cream blouse, mid-thigh black skirt and black tights. To his left stands a much bigger, muscular boy; Hank, the school bully. It’s not exactly the first time Hank is in the Headmaster’s office due to some act of bullying. This time he has forced Peter to come to school dressed as a girl. He’s not in the least sorry. In fact he keeps making lewd comments to Peter.

It was a little bit strange that no one noticed the boy standing leaning on a pillar at the mall. Not that there was anything special about him. Five foot seven inches tall, not really thin but definitely not fat, nice blond hair that he had let grow almost to the shoulders. His clothes were average, neat and clean but nothing special. The family did not have that much money since Andrew’s father died. No, the reason someone might have noticed him was that for the last 20 minutes he had been standing there staring longingly at a gown in a shop window.

(Not insignificant re-write February 9, 2015)

First day of term, first class, gym teacher’s office.

There's a knock on the door and Tom, my best friend, enters.

-Hi Dave, is Mr Ferguson around?
- He’s already out there warming up.
- I see your little sister is taking ballet this year.

Captain: You wear what I tell you Mr Ingram or you’re off the team!

Boy meets boy, boy meets girl