Mom! How Could She? By Teek © October 2011 2,170 words long This is the first story in the Cindy's Adventures series.

“How could she do this to me?” Jessica ranted as she dragged her bag behind her. “I am not six. What right did she have to do this? Who does she think she is anyway? Two weeks in this place, and she does this to me! Well, I am not going to put up with it! NO…I…AM…NOT!”

Jessica slowed down a little when she came up to someone else on the walkway. “Would you put up with it? It’s ridiculous now, isn’t it? Come on now, can she really do this to me? She bought one for every single day. Every day! We’re at camp! She can’t be that much of an idiot, can she? One for every day?”

Jessica stopped talking for a minute and looked at the person next to her, expecting an answer. “Well, can she?”

“I … I … I suppose not?”

“Exactly!” Jessica continued. “She had to know what she was doing. She had to have put some thought into it. She went shopping and bought these. It isn’t like she could find them in our house. What was she thinking?”

As they reached the main administration building, Jessica grabbed the arm of her companion and went storming through the back door. “I am not going to put up with it. No…I…am…not! She went too far this time. I am not six, and I don’t have to put up with this. Come on now. I am twelve years old! How could she do this?”

Jessica continued to drag her bag and her companion through the hallways until they got to the front office. The ranting stopped just for a minute as she came to the desk of Mrs. Stillman. “She went too far this time, Mrs. Stillman, I will not put up with it. Call her…Call her!”

“Morning Jessica,” Mrs. Stillman said, smiling at the two children. “I can’t . . .”

“Well, I will be waiting for her on the front steps with my friend here,” Jessica interrupted and stormed out the front door down the steps towards the parking lot, dragging her new friend along. Halfway down the steps, she sat down. “She can just come back and fix this! I am not going to put up with it! Would you?”

Jessica’s companion stood next to her on the step, unsure what to say or do.

“She went shopping for them!” Jessica continued. “My own mother did this to me! Who does she think she is? I am twelve, not a little baby she can dress up like a dolly. I am not a dolly. I will not wear those…things! At my age, how could she buy a whole new wardrobe and send it to camp without telling me? Who does she think she is? Did she really think she could …”

“Maybe she thinks she is your mother and therefore has say over what you wear?”

Jessica stopped and, for the first time, looked at her companion who was standing next to her. Although Jessica had dragged this person along, who were they? The hair looked like someone had put a bowl on top of the head and shaved everything underneath. The eyes and smile showed compassion but appeared sad. Looking down, she found a black camp T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. The look was finished off with a pair of blue and black Nike sneakers.

Jessica thought about the reply and responded, “Well, she doesn’t! I am twelve, not six. I only wear stuff like this three times a year, and then only under protest. What drove her to go out and buy me all new clothes for these two weeks at camp? I could maybe understand one of them. With her sick mind, I can see her wanting me to wear one during the concert at the end. But she went too far this time! I cannot stay at camp for two weeks and wear these!”

Jessica pushed her bag down and unzipped it. Flinging it open, she looked up at her companion. “Can you believe it? There are fourteen of them in there. I counted. That is all she packed. Fourteen Dresses! How could she?”

Jessica started to cry.

Her companion looked at the open bag and the outfits visible. They didn’t look that bad. After some of the six-year-old comments, expectations had been of little girl frilly and lacy dresses with puffy sleeves. From what could be seen, none of them were like that. They all looked age-appropriate and typical summer dresses for a twelve-year-old girl. There wasn’t even a lot of pink visible in the bag.

“What am I going to do?” Jessica asked through her tears. “There isn’t one pair of pants in the bag. Dresses! I don’t wear dresses. The last time she had me in a dress was for picture day, and I told her then I would never wear one again. What was she thinking? Dresses! Could things be any worse?”

Barely audible over Jessica’s crying, her companion slumped down next to her and said, “You could have no dresses to wear for the two weeks.”

Jessica slowed her tears and looked at her companion. Trying to figure out what was meant by the last statement, she hesitantly responded, “But that is what I want.”

Looking at her companion, she could tell something was wrong.

“You at least have the jeans and t-shirt you are wearing,” the companion continued, “and you probably have some money to buy a camp t-shirt or two. So yes, things could be worse. You can at least wear clothes you’re comfortable in a few days while at camp. That is much better than some people.”

Jessica looked at her companion again, “What … did … your mom pack in your bag?”

“Pants and shirts. Mostly jeans and t-shirts. She even packed a suit and tie for that concert we will be performing on the last day for all the parents. Two weeks at music camp with only boy clothes to wear. So yeah, things could be worse. At least you can go a couple of days in comfortable clothes.”

Jessica was confused, “But … you are a boy? Aren’t you? What else would you wear?”

“Odd comment coming from a girl that doesn’t want to wear dresses, don’t you think?”

Jessica just stared at her companion. They were both silent. Jessica was looking at the person next to her, while that person just looked straight down at the ground. They sat there for several minutes in those poses. Both were thinking.

Finally, Jessica turned to her bag, and with two fingers from each hand, she picked up the bright yellow sundress sitting on top of the rest of her clothes and held it arm's length away, “You mean you would prefer to wear this? This thing?”

Jessica’s companion looked over at her and the dress she held. A smile slowly grew, “Yeah, in an instant. You may not like it, but I think it is pretty. Hi, Jessica, is it? My name is Cindy, but everyone calls me Frank.”

Frank got a wallet out and quickly got a picture from it, “This is my favorite outfit. I wore it last week at my best friend’s birthday party.”

Jessica looked at the picture. It was of a smiling little girl with braided pig-tails, wearing a pink party dress with puffy short sleeves and lots of frills and lace. Jessica looked at the picture and then back up at Frank, or was it, Cindy?

“My best friend gave me that picture just before I left to come here. Her mom had taken it at the party. It was her tenth birthday, and I wanted to look my best for the party. It was so much fun going to her birthday party in that dress. At least it was till…till,” a single tear came down the face.

Jessica was silent, looking at the picture and up at…at Cindy? “What happened?”

“Mom didn’t know I wore my sister’s old party dress to the birthday party. At least she didn’t know till she brought over one of the presents I left at home by mistake.”

“Was she mad you took your sister’s dress,” Jessica questioned? “Was your sister mad you got into her clothes?”

Smiling over at Jessica, “Mom knew I would often play dress-up with my sister’s outgrown clothes, but I had never worn them outside of the bedrooms in our house before.”

“Your mom doesn’t let you wear dresses out of the house, out of your bedroom? My mom begs me to wear dresses and complains when I don’t. Why doesn’t your mom want you to wear dresses,” Jessica inquired?

In a proper Mom imitation, “Little boys can play dress up in their rooms, but never out! Not even in the hall.”

Jessica looked at the picture again. “Oh yeah, I forgot you said your name is…Frank. So, if Cindy went to the party last week, what happened to her?”

“I had sneaked out of the house while Mom watched TV and hoping to get back in without her noticing. When she came to the party, she didn’t even recognize me at first among all the other girls at the party. But when she did, she got really mad. She grabbed me and dragged me out of the party, straight to her car, and to the barbershop. Still dressed in that outfit, she had the barber give me this haircut.”

Jessica gasped as she looked at the picture and then up at Frank / Cindy. “She didn’t?”

“She sure did! She kept ranting on and on about how boys were not supposed to wear such things. I just kept looking at my braids lying on the floor of the barbershop.”

Jessica hugged her companion.

“Then…then still dressed in that outfit, she took me to Wal-Mart and bought new clothes for camp. I was standing in the middle of the boy's department dressed like that with this haircut. She went up to the salesgirl and asked, ‘Ma’am, could you please tell me where the boy’s underwear is? My son here needs some clean underwear to take to music camp next week.’”

“Wow, and I thought my mom was mean,” Jessica stated. “So Frank … Cindy? What do I call you?”

“Since Mom made sure I wouldn’t have any girl clothes to wear on this trip, you might as well call me Frank. Everyone else is.”

They both just sat there looking down at the ground.

“Cindy,” Jessica hesitantly said. “I’d trade clothes with you for the week, but … I’m twelve, and you’re what, eight or nine? None of my clothes would fit you, and I definitely wouldn’t fit in your clothes.”

“I’m nine, almost ten, but I am the same size as all the little eight-year-olds. Thanks for the offer, Jessica,” Frank said, eyeing the suitcase. “With my hair cut like this, however, I would look ridiculous in them anyway. It was all the way down to my shoulders, how could she have the barber just use clippers to cut my hair? It will take me forever to grow it back out.”

They both sat there in silence.

“I play the piano,” Jessica broke the silence after at least five minutes. “What do you play?”

“The flute,” Frank replied without looking up.

“Really, the flute at your age? That is impressive.”

“Yeah, my dad keeps telling me I’m some sort of prodigy, but he’s my dad. I just like the light and delicate sound it makes. I hope I don’t screw up the concert at the end of camp.”

The two of them continued to just sit on the step to the main administration building in silence. Eventually, Jessica zipped her suitcase back up and grabbed the extending handle.

“Come on, Cindy,” Jessica said, standing up and holding out her hand. “We will make it through these weeks together. If you can go for two weeks without a dress to wear, I can go for two weeks wearing dresses. It will not be fun, but at least we have our music. It’s not like Mrs. Stillman was actually going to call my mom. She never does when I ask her to, and I have been coming here for four years.”

Slowly Frank got up and took Jessica’s hand, and they went back into the building.

“Don’t bother calling my mom, Mrs. Stillman,” Jessica said, walking straight through the main office without stopping. “If Cindy here can make it through the next two weeks, then I guess I can too.”

“Cindy?” Mrs. Stillman questioned as she watched Frank and Jessica walk out of the building hand in hand, with a suitcase rolling along behind them.