~o~O~o~

I am sitting in the bed room banished to isolation until I am eighteen. For me that means at least three years. I heard mother is threaten to quit her job to home school me for the remainder of tenth grade through graduation. She is suffering major ticks in her right eye due to embarrassment because of me. Something about not being able to face her law partners ever again. It did not matter when I told her they do not know about this yet. In fact my parents are the only ones who figured it out. Ok so a few friends are in on it as well. They don’t dare say anything because they will be in as much trouble as me.

At first father laughed his butt off until he saw mom’s reaction. He knew then the appropriate resolution would be me only in the hot seat. That is when dad turned on me. Right now they are downstairs trying to create a cover story. I did not help when I said this was all mom’s fault for sticking me with this dumb name.

I am fifteen years old in tenth grade stuck with the French Canadian name Jean-Marie Lafleur. People here in Texas don’t understand a boy named Jean-Marie. Johnny Cash sang about a Boy Named Sue. It was Cash‘s premise if you gave a boy a feminine name it would force him to be tough. It may have worked for Sue but not in my case. They may as well have named me Sue. At least I could claim they were Johnny Cash fans. Texans could understand that.

You see Dad is a French Canadian. In fact he was named after a famous hockey player, Guy Lafleur. No relation but dad likes to let people think the hockey player is an uncle or something. Hyphenated names in dad’s culture are usually composed of two names from the same gender; such as, Jean-Pierre, Paul-Henri, Anne-Laure, or Marie-á‰lise. Less commonly, they are composed of one boy name and one girl name, with the correct gender name first, as in Jean-Marie for a boy or Marie-Jacques for a girl. Note that hyphenated names are considered a single unit together, they are the person's first name, not a first and a middle. To further complicate my naming issue in this country Jean is the female version of Gene. As expected the hyphen disappeared when people wrote my name. No one believes Marie is not my middle name.

You know how parents always resort to shouting middle names before a melt down. Like, Paul Michael get over here? When they throw out the middle name everybody within ear shot knows you are toast. It is far worse if they yell Paul Michael Jones. That is reserved for major offenses. Mom always used a gentle tone every time she said Jean-Marie. Anyone who heard thought ‘uh oh the kid is in trouble.’ She never said Jean hyphen Marie. So how are they to know the hyphen is there? Naturally, they think you are in trouble. Of course mom used the French pronunciation of Jean but Marie is all they ever heard. You would think mom would have wised up after hearing how pretty I am more than a hundred times from strangers.

Yes, I know I am taking awhile to get to the problem. Everybody always said I am too wordy. It is a long story though and quite complicated. It was not only my name that created the problem. There were my friends and their stupid dare. Then the particularly evil computer game followed some more by my helpful friends. Now that I think about it the bullies did not help either. They are all factors not in the order listed.

Anyway here I am in a town of ten to fifteen thousand in West Texas. There is nothing poor about the place. Oil money has seen to that. I think it was a New Yorker though that set up the school system. Most thinking people understand high school consists of the Freshman, Sophomore, Junior and Senior years. What idiot puts ninth graders in middle school? That is where I ended up, Willis Elliot Middle School or the Willies as we called it.

My associates consisted of Craig (boner) Nelson, and Rocky Collins. I heard somewhere the nickname Rocky is given to stupid people or those with the given name Rocco. I will let you decide where Evan’s nick of Rocky came from. For the record boner is derived from the same source as Rocky. I would not want you confused thinking Craig was big in that way.

Boner lived at 22 Maple Street four doors from my house at 28. Rocky lived next to me at number 26. It was natural that three ninth graders living so close together either killed each other or hung out together. I would be remiss not to mention Pam, Becky or Tracy because they were at fault too. Though, it would take them another year to mess me up. Let’s just say Rocky and Boner started it. It is really sad you can walk the entire six blocks from one end of Maple street to the other and not find a single Maple tree. The same is true for Cherry, Oak, Pine and all the other tree streets.

Craig was a little taller than average at five foot eight inches and one hundred fifty pounds. Rocky is two inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier. I am lacking being only five foot two and one half inches. When I fill my book bag and stand on the scale I weight one twenty. That is the problem coupled with my other attributes. I wear my jet black hair in a feathered style. I sort of like the sweep lying over my brows. Pam told me it was sexy as it framed my oval deep blue pools. When a cute girl says sexy and deep blue pools in the same sentence when talking about me, I take notice. It does not enhance my macho image when delicate strands gently curl on top of my shoulders. You can’t see my ears because of the hair. Rocky told me I have ugly ears so I hide them. Ok so it is my fault I look more like Marie than Gene. I prefer the American Gene to the drippy French Jean Marie. That is until this problem and I admit I rather like it now. I know I am getting ahead of myself again.

I find myself being clever placing a water balloon inside Ray Walker’s locker door. Oh, I forgot to mention the lockers sometimes stick open if you don’t add an extra twist when closing them. Something to do with the Texas heat I think. Ray is one of those guys who likes to bump me into doors and walls. I thought it was funny when he opened his door and the balloon broke. Ray did not. It was a minor victory but I had to spend several weeks avoiding him. Ray has several friends who really like my name because they never miss enunciating Marie. I have gotten used to the taunts. What really bothered me was when they escalated to demanding my lunch money. Of course, I never gave them any and usually found myself stuffed in the dumpster.

Puberty has not kicked in regarding me as it has for Boner and Rocky. They are suddenly getting bigger. Their status has not grown with their size. Like me, they are still computer geeks and not into the jock category. Size alone protects them from general bumping and in your face threats. Pam told me I needed to use manipulation and guile to avoid trouble from Ray and his friends. I thought about that but it sounded a bit girly to me.

Thanks to Boner and Rocky, they set me straight about that. In the early spring after three semesters of torment my friends pulled me aside. I will try explaining what I remember of the conversation. We were standing outside of school before the first bell.

“Look Jean Ray is only going to get worse. The girls are right you need to use stealth.”

That was Boner talking. Rocky jumped in.

“we are not always nearby. You know he waits until you are alone.”

I whined “The girls want me to act like them. I am not a girl.”

Boner raised an exasperated look and said something that made sense.

“You think the thieves in our D&D games are sissies? They use cunning and guile to beat the stronger rangers.”

The bell rang and we went inside. It did not take long for Ray to catch up with me. Between the first and second periods he trapped me in front of my locker. As I reached into the locker to get a book, his arm pressed against the door. I turned around to see Ray in my face. With nowhere to go I could almost taste his nasty breath. Whispering so the others could not hear Ray threatened.

“Give me your lunch money Marie or else.”

Ray’s stance with his arm pinning me against the locker presented an interesting pose. It reminded me of the football players and their cheerleader girlfriends. She would be in front of her locker. The football player’s arm was against the door and he is leaning in for a kiss.

In full panic mode I reacted. My thoughts were guile, thanks Pam. Stealth mode from my role playing games provided my rational. I kneed him in the nuts. He fell back in pain kneeling on the floor. I could see Mr. Riley running down the hall and I shouted.

“Ray Walker don’t you try to kiss me again.”

Mr. Riley froze in mid stride the shock on his face was priceless. Ray’s court, exploded with John Mitchell laughing.

“Easy Ray, we know Marie is pretty but you have to control yourself.”

By then the whole crowd is laughing at and taunting Ray. Mr. Riley grabs him by the ear.

“to the office."

I guess the combination of my feminine hair cut, size and what I said momentarily confused Mr. Riley. With a concerned expression he asked,

“are you all right Miss?”

I nodded, “just keep him away from me.”

The principal called me into the office for my side of the story. I lied I said Ray tried to kiss me. Mr. Riley, still confused with his pronouns backed me up.

“Ray had her pushed up against her locker. He was in the classic pose of a boy about to kiss a girl.”

I admitted I looked like a girl adding more fuel to the fire.

“That does not give Ray permission to make sexual advances. I do not like boys that way.”

Principal Gibbons looked wary but did not challenge me. He suggested I get a hair cut.

Rocky and Boner went nuts telling me how great it was but I could expect to get killed. The rumor mill flooded the school with stories about Bubba Wilkins threatening to kill his kid if gay talk continued.

“No faggot will live in my house.”

That did not happen as Ray steered a wide birth when he returned from suspension. I thought it funny to watch Ray run in the other direction every time I smiled at him. I filed that experience away adding guile and stealth to my arsenal.

As the school year wound down the three Maple Street Marauders as we liked to call ourselves spent more time at role playing games. That is until Rocky and Boner discovered girls. I guess in their case puberty kicked in. Here in West Texas there are important social events. The primary focus after pick up trucks, beer and girls is football. That is until the Texas Rangers reached the world series the year before. My buds suddenly wanted to hit the diamonds that popped up almost everywhere.

Few bats were light enough to allow me a fluid swing. When I found one if I ever hit the ball it did not go far. Rocky and Boner were impressing the girls with their prowess. I watched often skulking back to my role playing games.

When you have three total babes living on the block your friend’s interest suddenly changes. Pam Michaels, Becky Williams and Traci Cox all fit in the babe mold. The problem is they are not stuck up all three met requirements as the girl next door. While my buds lusted after the girls shapes I noticed how they were dressed. It was the look and how different styles worked or did not for each of the girls.

I was sitting on my porch minding my own business when it started going south. I was simply Jean-Marie Lefluer a small fourteen year old. Picked on by bigger kids because of my name. The odd accent half French and Texas drawl did not help. When you grow up in a family with a French Canadian father you pick up his speech patterns.

Here I go wandering again. Anyway Pam walks by waving. I can see she is a bit upset.

“What is wrong Pam?”

“You would not understand,” she answers.

I shake my head, “try me.”

Like all girls will she was upset because some outfit did not look just right when she wore it. She really liked it but felt it looked wrong. I explained she should wear her hair a bit differently.

“Try pulling your hair away from your neck. The cut of the blouse will be enhanced if your neck is visible.”

She looked at me in an odd way considering a minute.

“I will try that, thanks.”

After another thoughtful gaze, Pam took off down the street.

I thought nothing more about it and returned to my spacing out. My cell rang it was an excited Pam thanking me because her outfit was suddenly perfect. If I were Boner or Rocky, I would have said something like.

“Great why don’t you wear it and we can show it off at the movies together.”

Those words never came out instead I said.

“I am glad it worked out.”

That was the end of that conversation and I was again alone on the porch bored to death.

Rocky and Boner were planning to try out for the football team when they reached high school next fall. We were all destined to attend Clayton Westmere High School. It was named after some local politician from a generation or two earlier. The girls attended Exeter Blakely Academy and exclusive private prep school. Prep because it sounded more impressive than High School and allowed them to charge higher prices. You needed impressive grades to be accepted and a minimum of B to avoid being tossed out.

It was no issue as far as I was concerned as I had no intention of going there. I have to admit the girls looked stylish in their blue blazers, gray pleated skirts, blue knee socks and white blouses. They told me they hated uniforms especially the stupid neck ties. I still thought they looked sharp. I could understand the male version was pretty ugly. Those pressed gray slacks, starched oxford shirts, blazer and tie is not an outfit I would wear.
Good old public school with my sloppy tees and jeans. I think that was the first time I considered how my hair would look with the girls’ school uniform.

I had taken to running with the idea of going out for the track team. All of us guys wore those baggy shorts in an attempt to be cool. I was complaining about my running and having trouble gaining speed. Becky heard that and smiled to Pam.

“Jean Marie helped you with your outfit last week Pam. You do owe him.”

Pam nodded saying

“it is the shorts that is the problem.”

I looked at her dubiously.

“What are you talking about?”

“Those baggy shorts look more like high water pants.” Pam giggled

Becky nodded “we call them capris.”

The two girls are laughing as my face reddens. Pam makes another suggestion.

“They have running shorts on sale this week. Come with us and we will show you.”

My buds smiled egging me on.

“Go for it” They both said.

That is how I ended up following Pam and Becky to Slater’s Sporting Goods. Pam steered me over to the salesgirl talking rapid fire.

“My friend Jean Marie needs a pair of running shorts. You have them on sale don’t you?”

I should have picked up on this right away and assumed the sales girl heard the Marie part of my name. I found myself in the Misses department.

“Jean Marie such a pretty name What size are you?”

I answered with my usual

“I do not know, small I guess.”

“Ah how sweet a French accent to go with the pretty name. Let me measure I am guessing a petite three.”

I should have balked and issued a protest but a sales woman thinking commission is quick with the tape.

“As I thought size three.”

She hands me a pair of blue nylon running shorts with a white swoosh where the pocket should have been. Fortunately, they were without any hint of gender.

“Try these on,” pointing to the changing room.

The girls pushed me into the closure giggling excitedly.

“Uh Jean Marie you are not wearing boxers are you?” Pam asked.

“No briefs.”

Both girls turned around blushing.

The shorts fell to mid thigh and fit perfectly. Not too loose or too snug.

“Good let's get them and get out of here.”

I said feeling somewhat foolish.

Becky encouraged me to wear them home while Pam kept staring at my legs. I noticed several high school boys giving me the once over in the food court. The three of us sat talking while one guy kept glancing in our direction.

“Who is that guy?”

Becky asked Pam.

“Dave McCauley,”

the other girl answered.

“I think he likes you Pam.”

“No Becky, he is looking at you. He attends Exeter don’t you recognize him?”

The conversation is interrupted when Dave approaches the table.

“Pam, Becky are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

He tilts his head toward me.

“I do not think we have met.”

I, fluster a bit trying to stifle my French accent but failed.

“I do not think we have. I am Jean Marie and you are?”

His smile broadens, “Dave McCauley. Do you go to Exeter?”

I answered with a short “no.”

“You should think about it for next year. What are you sixteen?”

Pam pokes him teasingly.

“Jean Marie is our age quit teasing you know better.”

Now it is Dave’s turn to blush.

“Sorry ladies you cannot blame a guy for trying.”

With that he walked off with his friends.

I turned to Pam and Becky.

“I know I am dense but was guy flirting with me?”

Both girls giggled again not answering the question. I did learn he is in tenth grade making him a year older than us. ‘A junior dating a Sophomore. That is somewhat acceptable.’ I suddenly snap to reality. ‘What are you thinking Jean Marie?’

I ran like crazy through the spring making the track team. There were several meets where I did well enough to gain some respect. At least most of the teasing let up and the bullies found other targets. Both Boner and Rocky grew bigger now six inches or so taller than me. I am in a holding position going nowhere fast. I do not need to tell you there are no girlfriends. Both of my buds found girls who wanted to date them. I was finding myself alone more and more. Until one fateful May evening when my cell rang. It was Traci.

“Hey Jean can you help me?”

I quickly noted she left out the Marie there goes the lost hyphen again.

“I, don’t know if I can I guess what is up?”

Traci was smiling. I could feel her bubbling grin over the phone. Did I tell you, she is perky? Traci is my height all five foot two. Her hair is a strawberry blond and long. She is stunning to say the least. If I had discovered girls, in other words hit puberty I would have massive wet dreams about her.

“I know how you helped Pam with her clothes and I need help with a skirt I am trying to sew. Can you come over please?”

Knowing better I should have come up with a creative lie. Nothing came to mind.

“I guess so” I answered.

A few minutes later I am knocking on the door of thirty Maple Street. Mrs. Cox answered the door.

“I am here to help Traci with her school project.”

Mrs. Cox ushers me in pointing to the stairs.

“She is in her room. Traci your friend is here.”

I heard a deep male voice call from another room.

“Emily, you know my rule. No boys are allowed upstairs.”

“I know honey it is Jean Marie.”

“Oh,” he answers “that’s ok.”

I could have sworn I heard him add “the nice girl from next door.”

Traci grabbed my hand pulling me into her room quickly closing the door.

“I do not want to embarrass you but would you mind trying on my skirt?”

I flushed,

“what are you nuts?”

Traci blushed

“Pam and Becky are away and you are my size. I will not tell anyone. I will not take any pictures or anything like that. I have to turn this in tomorrow. I cannot get the hem straight. It is too small for mom to wear and she cannot do it for me. Like if I wear it and she marks it up. The school considers that as cheating.”

Her plea was too much for me to resist. Those green eyes and her pout mastered to perfection melted my resistance.

“You won’t tell anybody not even Becky or Pam?”

“No I swear please.”

I exhaled slowly telling her

“hand me the skirt.”

“You have to take off your pants. I will turn around.

She turned facing the wall. I did not catch her peeking either. Well, I am not exactly a hunk. If it was that Dave, I know she would cop a peek. He is a hunk. What did I just say?

“Ok give me the skirt.”

She turns with her eyes widening.

“You are wearing boxers. They are too bulky and will throw everything out of balance. Wait a minute,” she concludes.

I watch Traci rummage through a dresser drawer. She hands me a pair of white nylon briefs.

“Use these I will step out into the hall while you change.”

“Are you serious?’

“Oh come on be a sport and the zipper goes in the back.”

She runs out into the hall before I can protest. The problem is those panties felt snug against my hips. There was no bulge because there is nothing to cause one. My testis have not dropped and my thing? Well there is not much to it. I shimmy into the skirt manage to zip it up and bleep.

“I am ready.”

Traci pops in rather giddy as she gazes at me. She kneels down playing with the hem adjusting it for length. The next thing I know she is telling me to turn slowly as she works the hem. She stands saying perfect when a knock on the door is heard. Traci tells her mother to come in. Mrs. Cox shakes her head.

“Traci it is too short. You have it almost three inches above Jean Marie’s knees. Take it down to an inch.”

“Aw mom,” comes her whine.

Mrs. Cox supervises while Traci adjust the length.

“There now that is much better. You can sew it tonight and thank you for your help Jean Marie.”

I nod face reddened a bit dying to make my escape when Mrs. Cox says one more thing.

“Jean Marie you are very pretty. You should wear skirts more often instead of those jeans all the time.”

Speechless, I can only smile as Traci’s giggling breaks the thought.

“That goes for you too Traci. Jean Marie would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I have to ask my mom, otherwise sure.”

That is how Traci and I became girlfriends. There would be no dates with her now that Mr. and Mrs. Cox were convinced I am the pretty neighbor girl. It is a good thing my parents work long hours and never socialize. At least they have not until now.

Through the spring, I spent considerable time with Traci, Pam and Becky. True to her word Traci never told the other girls about my skirt wearing. At least I do not think she did.