Primroses and Lace

Primroses and Lace

by Maeryn Lamonte
Melanie Ezell's big closet ultimate writer's challenge - An Ordinary Girl

 
”Hey Mum, I'm just heading down to the mall to meet up with some friends.”

“Ok sweetie, be safe.”

“Sure, see you later.”

-oOo-

I always feel a little nervous walking past groups of youngsters around here. Most likely echoes of what they've done to me in the past, but my fears are unfounded now. One of them looks at me as I saunter past - Bobby Daventry. Last year he dragged me into the public bogs and jammed my head down a recently used and unflushed toilet. It took me hours under the shower before I'd felt clean after that.

I twitch an eyebrow in his direction and he ducks his head, reddening. It seems impossible that he doesn't recognise me, and I struggle to suppress a smile as I walk by, the staccato clack of my heels declaring my presence, my right to be here. I ignore the low wolf-whistle, the muttering, the snickers. They're directed at a girl and don't require any acknowledgement.

Around the corner I stop to check my appearance in a shop window. The dress is rather short and I tug at the hem, wary of showing what nobody wants to know is there. Primroses and lace though. I mean who could resist it? I brush an errant lock of hair back behind my ear and check my face over. Everything in place.

It's still me under here. Between the outer appearance and the inner attitude, I still wear the skin of a young man. A sort of man sandwich if you will, only with more bread now. I suppose it's not surprising that Bobby doesn't recognise me though, there's not a lot left of who I used to be.

My parents hadn't liked the idea at first, but when I came home with a fractured wrist and two cracked ribs courtesy of the local yobs, they finally agreed to my solution. The story was that I was my cousin, that my mum's sister agreed to the swap to give me a break from the bullying. Dad doesn't like it; says it's like committing fraud, but I don't feel like a fraud, just like me at last. As a boy, I'd always been small, nondescript, a prime target for the alphas and betas, and pretty much everyone else right up to the omegas where I used to be. Now with a proper haircut, more suitable clothes, and a little help from the medical profession, the only thing that's left of who I used to be lurks unseen and unwanted beneath my swirling skirts.

I check my watch, delicate, small dial, lady's watch of course. Cary and Michelle will be waiting. Last year they wouldn't have given me time of day, but now I'm just another one of the girls and it feels so good to belong. Appearance is everything, so they say. Lipsy have their new range in today, and we have shopping to do. I settle my bag on my shoulder and head towards the mall with renewed vigour.



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This story is 523 words long.