So, Here I Am
by Hilltopper

CHAPTER 2

I started first grade with some trepidation. All during kindergarten, I had been treated more or less as a girl. Our grade school went from first to sixth grade. That meant there would be a lot of boys much older than me. This could be bad if they perceived me to be less than a boy. I reasoned that I needed to try to be a better boy.

It turned out that Betsy was in my class. We hugged as old friends should.

“I am so glad you are in my class, Betsy.”

“Me too, Johnny. Let’s sit together”

“OK.” Then I whispered to her, “We can’t be swapping clothes anymore.”

She looked a little sad. “I know but it was fun.”

Recess was a new experience. All the kids were out on the playground together. I felt a little lost. I had seen a few of the boys before but I did not really know them. I drifted over toward a tree when I heard my name.

“Hey, Johnny, over here.”

It was Betsy and a few of her friends. I was just excited about not being alone so I went to them.

“Come on, Johnny. We are going over to the clover field.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see.”

I followed them into the field. We all set in a circle in the grass. They started picking clover blossoms and tying them together.

“What are you doing.” I asked

“Silly, we are making clover necklaces. It’s fun.”

It was the first that I had heard of this but I joined in. Next thing I knew, we all had several long chains of clover around our necks. The bell rang and we headed back toward class. As I passed a group of older boys, I heard it.

“Hey, look at the weird boy or is it a girl?”

Then one of them pushed me down and they ran off. I was not hurt, but I realized that I had done exactly what I did not want to do on my first day. That is, appear as a sissy. Of course, I did not know what a sissy was at the time. I just knew that the boys were making fun of me.

“Don’t let them bother you, Johnny.” said Betsy. “We liked you playing with us.”

So, that is the way my first grade went. I either played with the girls and got teased or I was alone and pushed to the side.

One day during spring at the end of first grade, I was walking home when I spotted an empty lot that was overflowing with wild flowers. Having played with the girls picking clover, I had gained a love of flowers. I was overjoyed to see so many different ones in one place. I walked into the lot and just marveled at such beauty. I guess that I had been there for about an hour when I heard some one yelling at me.

“Hey stupid, you can’t play in there. I am a school guard and you are in a lot of trouble.”

I looked up to see a sixth grader coming toward me. I was terrified. I turned about and ran as fast as I could toward home. I could not understand it. All I wanted to do was enjoy the flowers. It seemed that whenever I did, there was a boy yelling at me. It wasn’t as if I was trying to be a girl, I was just being happy. The thing occurred to be: if only girls can like flowers, then I would rather be a girl. But I had sort of promised my dad that I would try to be a boy. I had mostly kept it during first grade. Even though I had played with the girls most of the time, I did not wear any girls clothes.

Two weeks after school let out for the summer that promise came crashing down. My dad took me to his mother’s house some days while he was at work. One day, I was looking around in an upstairs room when I found a beautiful white gown. I was entranced. Should I try it on or keep my promise? I thought, ‘Well, no one will know.’ So, on it went. It felt wonderful. As I was watching myself in a mirror on the closet door, I noticed my grandmother behind me. I turned quickly to her with tears in my eyes.

“Please don’t tell dad. Please?”

She eyed me for a second then said “Johnny, you look good in that. No, I will not tell your father. Do you like wearing it?”

I guess that I turned beet red. She laughed and said “Well, I guess you do. Come on down to the kitchen and we will fix lunch.”

I was in heaven. She let me wear the gown all day. I changed before my dad arrived to pick me up. As we left to go home, my grandmother whispered into my ear, “It’s our secret.” and smiled.
The incident was never mentioned again and never repeated. I do not think that my dad ever knew that I broke my promise, sort of.