Angelo finds new joys and comforts as a girl, including admiring boys and impressing drama teachers with his acting abilities. The child welfare system, however, has other ideas and blames his foster mother for feminizing him. Is there any hope for this lovely teen to find happiness?

The Foster Mom’s New Daughter — Part Four

By Katherine Day
(Copyright 2007 by Katherine Anne Day)
(Dedicated to and inspired by Angelo, of Rome, Italy)

Synopsis: Orphaned at age 14, Angelo is a delicate boy, and after a miserable year living with his aunt and her family, he is placed in foster care with a woman who has always wanted a daughter. Angelo finds comfort in often living and dressing as Angela, a lovely 15 year old girl and befriends a girl with whom he shares girly ventures. When dressed as Angela, his obvious prettiness attracts the attention of boys. Yet, Child Welfare services is threatening to remove Angelo from his new foster mother, and put him in a place where he’d be forced to be raised as a boy, a prospect that horrifies him.

Chapter Seven: The Audition and Afterwards

Angelo’s audition at the Arts High School was set for 2 p.m. Monday; he had rehearsed Hamlet’s “To Be Or Not To Be” speech several more times Sunday night, each time finding himself more dissatisfied with how he was doing it.

Mary Elizabeth thought he’d done fine; Angelo knew the lines, it was obvious, since he never missed a word during his repeated speeches.

“Mummy, I can’t do this,” he said, after he read the scene for the fourth time. “I don’t feel right.”

“What are you saying? It sounded fine. You haven’t missed a word.”

“I feel I’m forcing my voice. It doesn’t feel natural.”

“It sounds fine, just like Hamlet is supposed sound. Like a confused, crazed young man.”

“That’s it! I’m trying to sound like a man. It just doesn’t sound right to me. I feel I should read Ophelia’s line.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mary Elizabeth said. “I know you’ve been talking so much like a girl in the last few weeks. I know it must be hard to change, but you sounded fine. I could hardly hear any of that girlish lilt in your voice.”

“Oh mummy. I’m not a boy.”

“Well, you are now, again, and you know why. You read your lines fine, and you’ll do OK in the audition, I’m sure.”

Mary Elizabeth hugged the boy and said: “Get ready for bed. You should get your rest.”

“Ok, mummy, but can I wear that shorty pink nightie? Just tonight?”

“No, darling, you know I want you in all boy’s stuff. Put on those Green Bay Packer jammies I bought for you.”

“Mummy. Just for tonite. Can’t I wear the pink nightie? Can’t I?”

“Just this once,” Mary Elizabeth gave in. Then, on an impulse, she said, “Let’s put your hair up for tonight, too. I love working on your hair.”

“Mummy, I love you so much.”

Mary Elizabeth knew she was probably wrong to provide even these few hours of “girl time” to Angelo and that she had to continue to bring him back into boyhood if she were to keep him as her foster child. When she saw the sparkle in his eyes as she fixed his hair and treated him like a teenaged girl, she was elated.

“Look how pretty we are,” she said, directing his attention to the mirror over the dresser. “Mum and daughter.”

Mary Elizabeth kissed him lightly on the lips, twirled a finger through his long hair and let her hand follow down his delicate slender arm, full in the knowledge that Angelo would never succeed in being a boy, as hard as they might try. Yet, she knew they had to follow through on making him a boy, at least to all outward appearances, and that would require all the acting ability Angelo had, and it was apparent he had plenty of talent.

*****
The Amanda Crutchfield School of the Arts had been founded some 15 years earlier as part of the big city school system. It had been the genius of Ms. Crutchfield that made it possible. She had been a longtime theater teacher in the school system, eventually heading the District’s drama program, and she foresaw the need of developing a School of the Arts that could bring out the talent of children from all walks of life, including those from even the most disadvantaged families. Through her efforts, she persuaded the politicians that formed the School Board and the City Council that such an arts focus in a school would not only develop potential artists, actors, musicians, stage production staff and dancers, but would create an atmosphere which would increase interest in academics. It would likely save numerous children from poverty-stricken neighborhoods from a life of despair, drug behavior and hopeless.

Ms. Crutchfield, who was a tall, somewhat severe looking woman, was single-minded about her cause. A single woman, who still lived with and cared for her mother, Ms. Crutchfield used every tactic possible to win her goal of creating the Arts School, and she was successful.

The Arts School became everything Ms. Crutchfield envisioned: at least three graduates of the program had become actors in Hollywood and on television; a full half-dozen had ended up as fulltime musicians and several were performing with ballet companies across the nation. In addition, the school became a jewel of the city’s school system in academics and the percentage of graduates entering college was highest in the city. Competition to be accepted in the school was always stiff.

Nothing about the school’s appearance, however, would indicate its successful record. It was located in a 50’s style two-story building, sprawled across a dowdy campus in a failing inner city neighborhood. It was aesthetically uninspiring, built of utilitarian concrete block with a faux red brick front.

Angelo was disappointed when he arrived, being driven to the school by Mary Elizabeth. “That’s the school?” he asked.

“Yes, honey, but don’t let its appearance fool you. It’s a good school.”

She looked at him, his short stature and fragility so apparent in his nervousness over this audition. Despite the warmth of the August afternoon, he shivered as he sat in the car. The question of what to wear became the topic of a heated discussion. Angelo felt that because Hamlet was so fragile and uncertain, he should dress the part in female slacks and a blouse, along with girl flats.

“No Angelo, you’re not wearing girl’s clothes to that school,” she said. “They know you as a boy and a boy you are going to be.”

“But mummy . . .”

“There is no more argument here,” she said, raising her voice in frustration. It was the first time she had yelled at Angelo and she felt bad about it, but he had to recognize how important it was to make an outward appearance that he was male.

Yet, she had agreed he could wear the dark purple, collarless shirt, which was emblazoned with a metallic trim. It was truly a unisex blouse, and would provide a sense of artistic quality that might help with the judges at the audition. He wore dark slacks, which were long enough to disguise the fact that he wore pumps, with two-inch heels, as a way of adding height to his diminutive stature.

Mary Elizabeth wanted to argue about him wearing the pumps, since she knew it would cause him to walk in a most feminine manner. As she left him to wait in the lobby as he entered the theater for his audition, she merely warned him: “Now walk like a boy.”

She kissed him on the forehead and sent him off into the theater. She joined other parents who were also awaiting their child’s auditions.

“You have a lovely daughter,” said one of the parents, a tall, short-haired woman with rimless glasses.

Mary Elizabeth looked at her for a moment, wondering whether to correct the women’s impression. She decided not to, and answered, “Thank you.”

For Mary Elizabeth, it was a tortuous hour of waiting, fearing that Angelo would not be accepted, perhaps because he was not macho enough to be a credible actor as a boy, or that he would stumble in his recitation, or because of some unexplained bias by the judges. She reflected back to the same feelings she felt as her own sons competed on the football field, suffering shame when they might fumble the ball or miss a tackle and also facing fear that they might be seriously injured. She knew it would be critical for Angelo’s future that he be accepted in this school, since it was the only one where a boy with such girlish tendencies might be comfortable; if he failed, Angelo would be forced into the neighborhood high school, where he’d face constant bullying, teasing and humiliation.

“Oh here comes your daughter,” said the tall woman.

Mary Elizabeth had been reading and had failed to see Angelo leave the theater and approach her. She looked up and realized that Angelo truly looked like a girl, wondering how she would handle the situation with the tall woman.

“How did you do, honey?” she asked as she rose to great Angelo.

“I think I made it, mummy.” His voice was high and excited and truly girlish.

“Congratulations, dear,” said the tall woman. “And what is your name, dear?”

“Angela. It’s Angela,” repeated Mary Elizabeth quickly before Angelo could reply. Angelo looked surprised, but quickly broadened in a smile.

“Well, that’s good for you,” the woman said. “Did you see my son, Todd? He’s a tall boy.”

“Yes,” Angelo said, sticking to his high feminine voice. “I think he’s auditioning now.”

Mary Elizabeth offered best wishes to the woman and grabbed Angelo’s hand, taking off for the office where they would complete arrangements for enrollment.

“Did that woman think I was a girl, mummy?” Angelo asked as they walked down the hall.

“Yes, she did, right from the time we came in, and I can’t say I blamed her. I should have dressed you only in boy clothes, and cut your hair.”

“Oh mummy.”

“You still prance about like a girl, in spite of everything we’ve done.”

“I can’t help it mummy.”

They were told to wait in the hall for a few minutes while the admissions office finished with another enrollment.

“Mummy, they loved me. I did the Hamlet speech without a mistake.”

“Wow, that’s sweet, honey.”

“Then they asked me if I had memorized anything else, and would I perform it for them, and I said, I only knew Ophelia’s speech, before she drowned.”

“Oh did they want to hear that?”

“Yes, mummy. And I said it, and they loved it even better than my Hamlet.”

Mary Elizabeth felt a knot grow in her stomach. Why, indeed, did Angelo agree to recite a female part? She was sure he had done that part with great credibility.

“One of the judges said, they thought I could do both male and female parts, and another said she thought I’d be a good actress. That’s word she used, actress.”

The boy’s joy was unbounded as he described how well he was accepted as a female actress, and Mary Elizabeth knew that there were great difficulties ahead if he was to remain with her, and not surrender to his girlish ways.

“And what is your daughter’s name, Mrs. Dayton,” asked the admissions person, just glancing up as they entered the office.

“Oh, this is Angelo Davies, Miss Joyner. He’s my foster child now.”

“Angelo,” the woman said looking up, and now studying Angelo a bit more closely. “Oh, Angelo. You’re a boy. I’m sorry, I didn’t get a good look at you, dear.”

“That’s OK, Miss Joyner, I need to get his hair cut before school starts.”

“Well, we have lots of long-haired boys in this school, but it would help, I guess to make him fit in as a boy.” Miss Joyner smiled, but it was a false smile, indicating she was not too fond of the artistic types that filled this school. There was obvious disdain in her eyes as she viewed Angelo’s feminine appearance, and a coldj, but most proper manner, characterized the interview. It was also apparent she wanted this to end as soon as possible, a view shared by Angelo and his foster mother. Mary Elizabeth hoped the teaching staff would be more tolerant.

*****
After the admission process was completed, Mary Elizabeth took Angelo to the Cakes ‘n Cookies cafe for a treat. Angelo loved the place, since female customers usually populated it and he could act in what he felt was a more natural manner.

“Good afternoon, Mary Elizabeth, and you, too, Angelo,” said Jessica, a smooth-faced, young waitress, as they were seated. The two had become fairly regular costumers of the restaurant and several of the waitresses had gotten to know them.

Mary Elizabeth explained that Angelo had just been accepted after an audition into the Arts High School, and they were celebrating.

“Well, that’s worth celebrating,” Jessica replied. They had learned she was a freshman college student. Most people would call “cute,” with still a bit of lingering baby-fat that fleshed out an average young woman’s body. “I always wanted to go there, and you’re lucky to get in, Angelo.”

“Well, he’s talented in acting,” Mary Elizabeth said.

“I bet he is,” Jessica said. “What did you audition for?”

“Drama,” Angelo said. “I read two parts from Hamlet: Hamlet and Ophelia.”

Jessica was taken aback for a minute. “Really. But, err, but Ophelia is a woman’s part.”

“Yes, and I did that real good. They loved it.”

“I am sure you carried that off well,” the young waitress said, as she took their orders: Mary Elizabeth for a Black Forest Cake with coffee, and Angelo for biscuits and tea, knowing in his own mind that was what British women liked for afternoon tea.

As the waitress left, Angelo turned to Mary Elizabeth, saying, “Mummy, I love their uniforms here.”

“Oh yes, they’re so dainty, aren’t they?”

The outfits consisted of a black mid-thigh length skirt, with white lace trim and a light pink apron front, topped off by a white peasant blouse, with square lacy bodice and short puffed up sleeves. The waitresses wore coffee colored sheered stockings and white tennis shoes.

“Yes, mummy, maybe next year when I’m 16 I could work here. To help out with the money for college.”

“I don’t know if they hire boys, honey, except maybe as bus boys or dishwashers.”

“But, mummy, I was thinking, I could be a . . .”

“Don’t even think of that now,” Mary Elizabeth stopped him. “You’re not going to think now about working here as a girl. Think about being a boy, now.”

Mary Elizabeth, however, couldn’t scold Angelo. She knew full well he’d look adorable in a Cakes ‘n Cookies dress, and smiled at him, grabbing his slender hand, caressing it gently, wishing that in her own heart he could someday become just the waitress he wanted to be.

“I love the outfits you wear,” Angelo said to Jessica as she put down the biscuits and tea.

“Thank you, dear. I do too.”

“Yes, all you girls look so lovely in these outfits,” Mary Elizabeth added.

“How old do you have to be to work here?” Angelo said.

“Sixteen, but they don’t seem to hire boys here,” Jessica said. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’d be fun to be able to eat all desserts,” he said, quickly recovering himself, knowing full well that he’d love to be dressed as a waitress.

“Well then you’d get chubby like me,” the waitress responded with a smile.

“Oh, you’re not chubby,” Angelo said.

“I’m not slender like you, either, Angelo,” she responded with a smile.

“She’s a cute girl,” Mary Elizabeth said as the waitress left.

“Oh mummy, I’d be a cute girl, too, if I could work here.”

“Yes, you would, honey, and probably the prettiest girl, too. But, you can only dream for now. You’re still Angelo, my son.”

*****
As they arrived home, Mary Elizabeth said she had a treat for him. “This is for one day only, in honor of your success at the audition.”

She led him into her workroom, which she had converted from Angelo’s original bedroom, a room completely furnished in a manner befitting of a teenaged girl. The frilly bed and dresser were still there, as were the lace chiffon curtains, but Mary Elizabeth had removed the lovely chair and stool. In their place, she put her computer desk, chair and a small file cabinet, now constituting what existed of her home office.

She had forbade Angelo from entering the room when she was not home, because she knew he’d immediately head for the closet to look for the lovely girl outfits she still stored there.

“Oh mummy, I love this room so much,” he said as they entered.

“I know you do, honey, but look what I have laid out for you,” she said pointing to a gold-colored gown laid out on the bed.

“Oh mummy. For me?” Angelo skipped lightly to the bed, and began to pick it up.

“Yes, honey, for you. But just for tonight, in honor of you passing the audition. I know you worked so hard for it.”

“You’re the best mummy.”

“And for being such a sweet girl, so nice to her new mummy. I saw this gown at Fashion Bug and couldn’t resist. I just knew you’d look lovely in it.”

As Mary Elizabeth went to drawer to get a matching set of panties and bra and slip, she smiled to herself. Angelo was her “daughter,” regardless of what child protection services said or the child’s own male anatomy.

The gown sparkled with its faux gold fabric, with thick straps flowing over the shoulders, leaving a deep cleavage. A similarly colored gold fabric belt tied the dress at the waist, permitting the fabric to spread flowingly out, the dress ending just above the knee. Angelo held it up before himself, looking in the mirror, smiling in pleasure.

“It’s perfect. It’s me,” he said.

“Perfect for a perfect little girl,” Mary Elizabeth said, as she looked at the mirror reflection of the two of them.

Mary Elizabeth told Angelo to get undressed and take a nice bubble bath. She handed him the bra and panties to put on after he dried off.

As he took his bath, Mary Elizabeth changed her own clothes, putting on a platinum gown that was an exact match in style for the one she had purchased for Angelo. She donned sheer, silvery colored hose and a sparkling set of 4” heels, sandal style, also silver.

“Oh mummy, you look scrumptious,” he giggled as he came out of the bathroom, seeing Mary Elizabeth already dressed.

“Thank you, Angela,” she said, using the child’s female name for the first time since she began her crusade to restore him to boyhood. “And I see you’re already clean and perfumy, dear.”

The slender child, standing before her in only panties and bra with white, sweet flesh exposed, was truly meant to be a girl, she realized. He looked lovely, his hair flowing loosely about his slim shoulders, standing daintily before her. She hugged him tightly, and the boy seemed to surrender himself to her.

“Oh mummy, this feels so good, to be held by you.”

“Yes, my dear. It feels good to me.”

She noticed a sudden bulge develop in his panties, realizing that this embrace was exciting the young boy. Mary Elizabeth had seen her charge naked, and thought nothing of it, having raised three sons. Yet, she admitted to herself that now she too felt a warmth that could only come from sexual stimulation.

Angelo, like many tender boys, had virtually no body hair; even his pubic area had only a beginning of light fuzz, very similar to the light fuzz on his face. She had only seen his penis soft and tiny, but now she saw it grow to a small bulge in the panties.

“OK, honey,” she said, quickly releasing him, realizing that the sexual stimulation could become a problem for both of them.

“Let’s get you dressed, darling,” she said. “We’re going to have our own special night, Angela. Just you and I, mum and daughter.”

She explained she had made reservations at a fancy restaurant in New Harvest, a town about 30 miles away, where no one would know them. After dinner, they would go to a play, called, “Tea and Sympathy,” at the local playhouse there.

The waitress and maitre d’ both had sung their praises at the restaurant. “Such a lovely mother and daughter,” commented the maitre d’ in leading them to a table. It was an observation repeated by their waitress, an older, but carefully coiffured woman, as she took their orders: “OK, ma’am, and what does the young lady wish to order. You have a lovely daughter, ma’am.”

Angelo was immediately affected by the play, even though it was first performed more than 50 years earlier and had an old-fashioned feel. He felt strong identification with Tom, the young hero of the play, a sensitive college student who finds love with a middle-aged landlady. Like Angelo, the student is effeminate, and, though the play never stated it, may have been gay.

Angelo found himself crying near the play’s end, and was comforted to notice Mary Elizabeth also pulled out a hanky.

Like most amateur productions, this one had some obvious flaws; the mother actually seemed a bit harsh and angular. Some of the transitions were rugged, Mary Elizabeth noted as they left the theater.

“Oh, I loved it mummy,” Angelo said. “Especially the boy who played Tom.”

“Oh yes, he did that with great sensitivity,” she agreed.

“I suppose that’s the kind of part I could play, mummy.”

She smiled. “Yes, dear. But you also could play the part of one of the college girls in the play.”

“Oh mummy, this was the best night.”

The drive on the way home was quiet. Neither said anything, both realizing that beginning tomorrow Angelo would have to return to boyhood. Mary Elizabeth felt some tears role down her face as she thought about it, but knew that Angelo had a great inner strength and would deal with this in his own way.

Yet, her thoughts kept reverting to one of the comments of the waitress: “You have a lovely daughter, ma’am.” It helped her stanch the flow of tears, and bring a smile to her face.

Angelo himself was in his own dream world, seeing himself on a huge stage, taking bows with elegant curtseys for playing Ophelia, and receiving a dozen roses from the theater usher, who delivers them with a kiss.

For both Mary Elizabeth and her “daughter, Angela,” this night and its memories would carry them through some difficult days ahead.

Chapter Eight: Child Protection Has Its Say

During the two remaining weeks before school was to open, both Mary Elizabeth and Angelo worked diligently to develop greater masculinity in his mannerisms. Try as he might, Angelo’s voice continued to maintain feminine inflections and he walked in the dainty step with his hands flipping about freely.

“Damn it, Angelo. I told you a hundred times: Walk like a boy.” Mary Elizabeth’s voice often during this period burst out in frustration at the boy, trying so hard to get him to dump his girly ways so that he’d be acceptable among other students as a boy once he entered school.

“Ok, mummy,” Angelo would reply meekly, feeling sorry that he was disappointing his foster mother who only wanted to make life easier for him.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mary Elizabeth would usually apologize, knowing full well that they were facing an almost impossible task in making him boyish.

It was apparent that the latent femininity that was within Angelo all of his life came into full bloom that summer. His gentle, sweet nature grew out of him, like a lovely flower in the springtime, full of color, lovely shapes and daintiness. “You’re like a pretty flower,” Mary Elizabeth had told Angelo one summery day when he was dressed in a flowing floral skirt, white peasant blouse and peach-colored sandals, his soft and creamy complexion looking so lovely. She had affixed yellow ribbons in his long brown hair, and in her mind’s eye, she saw him, prancing as a pretty little girl through a field of daisies.

On the weekend before school began, she let Angelo spend Saturday with Tanya, the daughter of Mary Elizabeth’s best friend, Sharon. For that day, and that day only, she warned Angelo, he could dress as a girl, and with Tanya they could enjoy doing whatever teen girls enjoy doing.

Tanya, it turned out, had recently gained a boy friend, the first of her life. His name was Joshua, who was a year older and was going to the same high school.

“I met him at the pool, Angela,” she said, using Angelo’s female name, as she always did.

“Is he cute?”

“Oh, I think so. He’s not too tall, but taller than me. Oh, he’s so strong. He’s a lifeguard.”

Angelo was taken aback. Tanya was his only close friend, and even though they weren’t going to the same high school, he had hoped he would be able to spend time with her, to live his female moments with a friend. Now, a new boy friend would interrupt that.

“You sound hot for him, Tanya?”

“Oh yes, Angela. Wait ‘til you see him. He’s coming over soon. I thought maybe he could take us to the mall. He’s got a car.”

Angelo felt sick at heart, feeling he was losing a girl friend to this macho lifeguard. His self-pity was soon ended as he saw the joy and sparkle in Tanya’s eyes as she talked about Joshua.

“Oh Tanya, maybe I should go home,” Angelo said. “I don’t want to interfere with you and Joshua.”

“Oh, no, Angela. I told Josh you’re my best friend ever. Just join us. Please.”

It was agreed, and the two lay on their stomachs on the floor, poring over teen magazines, giggling and discussing what kind of boy would be best for Angela.

Joshua turned out to be everything Tanya said he was; and, despite all his good looks and muscles, he was not arrogant, as so many macho boys could be. His warmth and sweetness was quickly apparent to Angelo.

“You’re very pretty,” Joshua said as Angelo was introduced.

“Thank you. My mummy always likes me looking nice,” he smiled.

“Angela got admitted to the Arts,” Tanya explained. “She just found out on Monday.”

“Cool. What are you going into?”

“Drama, I think. But I also like fashion design.”

“She did Ophelia for the audition,” Tanya said, beaming. She seemed to take as much joy in Angelo’s successes as he did. Naturally, she left out the part about his performance of Hamlet.

The day at the mall went smoothly. Tanya and Joshua were new friends, and for both it was their first “boy-girl” friendship; it was obvious Tanya wanted another girl friend along to ward off any advances by Joshua, and Angelo, looking as pretty as any teen in the mall that day, filled the part to a tee.

As they sat at the food court, drinking latte, Angelo suddenly turned his head, looking away.

“What’s wrong?” Tanya asked. “What are you doing?”

“I think I saw that Jason and his friend over there.”

“You mean those boys we met at the mall this summer?”

“Yes, and I don’t want him to see me,” he said turning his chair so that only his back was exposed to the boy.

“He’s coming this way, with his friend,” Joshua said.

“O darn,” Angelo, leaned down to pretend to tie a shoe.

The two boys moved quickly to their table. “Well, if it isn’t the two prettiest girls in the mall?”

It was Jason’s friend, Gary, who was always so forward. Jason seemed to hang back, and gave a tentative wave to Angelo and Tanya, as his friend talked.

“Introduce us to your friend,” Gary said, pointing to Joshua.

“This is my boy friend, Joshua,” Tanya said firmly. “And I don’t remember these two boys’ names, Joshua.”

Jason meanwhile looked at Angelo, smiling, and saying hesitatingly, “I was hoping you’d call me.”

Angelo held his head down for a minute, saying, “I guess I lost your number.” It was a lie, of course.

“Oh that’s OK. You want it again?”

Angelo felt sad for this shy boy. He was not pushy, but it was obvious he found a connection with Angelo, and considered him for what he appeared: a lovely teen girl. Angelo knew the boy needed an explanation. He really was nice.

“Mummy says I can’t go out with boys, yet. I’m sorry. You seemed nice.”

“Can you call me sometime?”

Angelo again took his number, which the boy scribbled on a napkin. He put it in the pink, plastic purse he carried over his shoulder.

“Jason seems like a nice boy,” Joshua said. “Too bad he’s got that other jerk as a friend.”

“Isn’t he going to the Arts school, too, Angela?” Tanya asked.

“Yes. So he says. It’s because of him I knew to apply. So I guess I should be nice to him.”

Joshua beamed: “Well, you’ll see him there. Who knows where that’s going then?”

“Oh he’s a junior, two years ahead of me. I probably won’t see him.”

“Well, when you’re ready to date, Angela,” Joshua said. “Let me know.”

“Hey, Josh,” Tanya interrupted.

“Angela’s pretty, Tanya, but you’re my girl,” Joshua quickly explained. “But I bet Todd would love to date her.”

Tanya explained briefly that “Angela” was in foster care, and the “she” had had a tough life; her foster mother, she said, was very sweet, but strict, hoping to protect “Angela” from disappointments that so often befall teen girls.

Joshua gave Angelo a quick friendly kiss on the cheek in dropping the pair off at Tanya’s house. Tanya got a long hug, with accompanying hands caressing her back. Angelo blushed, and turned away while the exhibition went on. He wondered: Would he ever be in the arms of a strong boy like Joshua, being kissed and hugged as Angela? It would be a dream come true.

*****
“Angelo, I told you. I don’t want you getting into those girl clothes anymore.” Mary Elizabeth saw that the boy had gone into his former bedroom, the one that had been so prettily decorated for a girl and was rummaging among the feminine attire in the closet. Angelo had thought his foster mother was in the basement washing clothes, and he snuck into the room, and was in the midst of attempting to fasten a black lace bra on when Mary Elizabeth unexpectedly came up from her washing.

Angelo was standing there, wearing sheer black pantyhose as she entered, the rest of his slender body exposed. He loved the action of putting on the pantyhose, rolling them down to put in his feet, carefully pulling the hose up each leg, smoothing the nylon material on his legs and pulling them up over his butt. He looked at his toes, framed into reinforced nylon, looking so slim and lovely.

Angelo paraded before the mirror, turning as a model would on a runway, smiling: “I really do have pretty legs.”

In the mirror, he could see his thin ankles, neatly turned calves, lovely knees, and slender thighs which broadened as they reached his hips. His legs were firm but showed none of the muscular tendons some boys had.

“Oh mummy, I know. Just this once.”

“No, Angelo, and you know why. I expect Anna to come one of these days, and she’d probably bring a supervisor with her from child protection services. I don’t want you acting all girly. Now take that hose off and get into your jeans and tee shirt and running shoes.”

Angelo loved his foster mother, and he really didn’t like displeasing her, but the fact was he felt natural and comfortable in girl’s outfits; he knew that with his slight frame, long hair and effeminate mannerisms that when he dressed as a boy he must have looked like a “sissy boy.” It often brought him ridicule, while as a girl all he heard was praises for his natural beauty.

“OK, mummy,” he said, quickly rolling off the pantyhose and neatly replacing the clothes in their appropriate drawer spaces.

Several afternoons later, Angelo sat on the couch, his right leg tucked under his left, holding a book, his fluffy stuffed kitten resting next to him. He was engrossed in the newest book in the “Traveling Pants” series, which had become a favorite among teen girls. Written by Ann Brashares, it concerned a trio of 15 year-old girls who were quickly growing into young womanhood, and learning about life.

Tanya loaned Angelo the book, gushing that she had finished it in just one day. “Oh honey,” she told Angelo, “I think one of those characters could be you. Really.”

Angelo truly did find himself identifying with a shy girl in the book, a girl who had yet to have a date and was afraid of boys. So intense was his concentration that he didn’t hear the doorbell ring until Mary Elizabeth yelled: “Angelo, get that door.” He was startled to attention, dropping the book and grabbing the fluffy stuffed animal as he walked to the door.

“Oh, Miss Simms, it’s you.” Angelo said with astonishment, and with his voice retaining its girlish inflections that he was trying hard to lose.

“Yes, Angelo, it’s me. Won’t you let us in?”

Anna Simms, the social worker, was dressed in black slacks, an orange top and her hair fixed in dreadlocks. With her was a middle-aged white woman, tall, slender, wearing a grey suit and a severe expression.

“This is Ms. Pentecost,” Anna Simms said, introducing her supervisor to Angelo and Mary Elizabeth who entered the living room.

“Nice meeting you, Ms. Pentecost,” commented Mary Elizabeth, realizing full well that Ms. Pentecost was not going to make this a pleasant visit.

“And, I take it this is Angelo, the boy you have charge of, Mrs. Dayton?” asked Ms. Pentecost in a rather loud, coarse voice.

She pronounced word “boy” had a marked, sarcastic tone, indicating her already made conclusion that Angelo was no “boy” in the normal sense. Angelo recognized the nastiness in the tone, as he sat back on the couch, still holding the stuffed animal, almost as a little girl would hold it. He quickly tried to hide it at his side, but he knew the damage had been done; his effeminate mannerisms had already betrayed him.

The adults in the room were still standing as the Child Welfare Department supervisor began: “Mrs. Dayton. Let me get right to the point here.” Ms. Pentecost, it was obvious, was a no-nonsense, quick-to-decide supervisor.

“Yes, Ms. Pentecost, before you go on . . .” Mary Elizabeth interjected, only to be cut short by the forbidding Ms. Pentecost.

“No, Mrs. Dayton, let me finish. I have read the file and have talked with Ms. Simms here. It’s obvious you have been a bad influence on this boy. Look at him now; he’s hardly a boy anymore.”

“But, Ms. Pentecost, Angelo has never been happier in his life,” Mary Elizabeth began.

“No, Mrs. Dayton. You have corrupted him. You wanted a girl, and you’ve tried to make him into that. That’s disgraceful, and I should bring you up on child abuse charges.”

Angelo wrapped his arms around himself, drawing his legs up and curling his slender body into the couch, wanting to cry so badly. His whole happy world was about to crumble down about him.

“We should never have placed this boy in this house. But, Ms. Simms here was a new worker and didn’t see the abnormalities in this household. This is disgraceful. This boy here has become so pathetic, and you’re to fault, Mrs. Dayton.”

Angelo could take it no more; he bounded up from his protective seat on the couch, rushing to the arms of his foster mother, cuddling his slender frame next to her, as she instinctively held him tightly, caressing his shoulder gently. Angelo began to sob, tears flowing and his cries of anguish tearing through the household. Through his sobs, he spoke out:

“I love mummy. I love mummy. She’s made me so happy. I’ll be a boy. I’ll be a boy. See my room. It’s a boy’s room. I’ll be a boy.”

“Ms. Pentecost, Angelo’s had a rough life, and he’s truly happy here.,” Ms. Simms spoke up.

“He’s been corrupted, Ms. Simms Can’t you see that?” Ms. Pentecost’s words were harsh.

Ms. Simms, whose career may be in jeopardy now if she continued to protest, retreated.

Angelo, however, suddenly found strength. He released himself from Mary Elizabeth and said loudly to the stern supervisor, trying to fight back tears as he did so, “Ma’am, mummy here did nothing I didn’t want her to do. I feel better as a girl, and fought with her to stop trying to make me a boy. She’s been a good mum.”

“What do you mean, you ‘feel better as a girl’?” Ms. Pentecost demanded. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. This woman has warped your mind.”

“No. No. She’s a good mum.”

Mary Elizabeth interjected. “I’ve tried hard to stir Angelo here to be a good young man. At the suggestion of Ms. Simms, we fixed up a boy’s bedroom for him, and even tried to get him interested in some sports. But, you know, Ms. Pentecost, he cared for his ailing mother until her death, actually acting like a maid. He’s a sweet, warm-hearted, lovely young boy, and he may indeed have a transgendered personality.”

“Transgendered. I don’t buy that,” Ms. Pentecost shot back. “That’s poppycock for aberrant behavior. He needs a boy’s atmosphere.”

It was obvious that Ms. Pentecost was not to be argued out of her attitudes. Her rigidity must have been legendary in the department.

Mary Elizabeth tried to explain that Angelo had been accepted into the Arts High School and had a good future ahead of him; she said he had become fast friends with a girl of his age and they enjoyed shopping and doing things together.

“Angelo was so unhappy in his previous placement with his aunt. He was teased mercilessly, and that’s a fate that awaits him in another atmosphere, Ms. Pentecost,” Mary Elizabeth pleaded. “He’s a naturally small and delicate child. Here he can follow his natural tendencies.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Mrs. Dayton,” the supervisor responded. “He needs another placement.”

“I’m afraid, Ms. Pentecost, we have no home available for Angelo right now,” Ms. Simms said.

“What about the adolescent group home? He’d fit in good there. They had strong physical fitness program there. Buck Spencer will make a man out of this boy.” Again Ms. Pentecost said “boy” in a derisive manner.

Angelo cringed at the thought of such a place. His physical strength was so minimal, his muscular talents so weak, he’d be harassed and bullied by both staff and other boys alike. He knew he could never make it in competition with other boys.

“They’re filled up, with a waiting list,” Ms. Simms said.

“Ok,” Ms. Pentecost said, now looking defeated. “I guess the boy is not abused. We’ll let him stay here for the time-being, but I will find another placement for Angelo, and in that placement he will be a boy, not such a sorry excuse for a boy as I see before me.”

Mary Elizabeth started to protest the nasty remarks of the supervisor, but held back, knowing they had received a reprieve, although it might be brief.

Ms. Simms obviously cringed at the words of her supervisor, and as the pair left, she gave Angelo a gentle nudge, winking slightly and showing a faint smile.

Mary Elizabeth held Angelo in her arms, and after the two were out the door, she let him cry out loud, holding him tightly, his face pressed into her bosom, her fingers running through his long, lovely hair which smelled of sweet shampoo. “My darling, Angela, you’re such a sweet girl,” she thought.

Then out loud she said: “Angela, yes, my darling Angela, we’ll figure out a way to keep you here and make you happy. My dear girl.”

“Oh mummy, why wasn’t I born like other boys? I’m a burden to everyone.”

“No, honey, you’re a talented marvelous young person, and we’ll show that Ms. Pentecost just how wrong she is.”

Angelo drew away from Mary Elizabeth, looking up at her, smiling through tears, and said: “Yes, mummy, we will.”

*****

Later that afternoon, Mary Elizabeth phoned her friend, Sharon, relating the morning’s visit with Anna Simms and the horrible Ms. Pentecost. Sharon was sympathetic, knowing fully how hard her friend had tried to direct Angelo away from his girly tendencies. “The boy just seems to be transgendered,” Sharon volunteered.

She explained that her college-going daughter, Heather, and her boy friend had researched male-to-female gender situations after meeting Angelo. “These transgendered people seem to be the real thing,” Sharon said. “These boys are not faking it. It seems they feel they are girls, only with a boy’s anatomy.”

“Yes, so I’ve found out,” Mary Elizabeth agreed. “In fact, I think Angelo considers himself a girl.”

“Well, the think you should challenge this decision to remove Angelo, and to get him examined. Maybe to see a psychiatrist,” Sharon said.

Even though Mary Elizabeth had told Angelo about her promising conversation with Sharon, Angelo remained skeptical that he’d be able to stay with her, or that his feelings of femininity would be respected. He felt he was doomed to a future of futility in trying to be masculine, a future in which he would always be a failure as a male. He remained curled up on the couch, clutching the stuffed kitten, caressing it, sobbing intermittently.

Angelo was awakened from his funk after supper when Sharon, her two daughters, Tanya and Heather, and Heather’s boy friend, Michael, appeared.

“We’re going to help you, Angelo,” said Heather, after they entered.

Angelo perked up immediately, so happy to see Tanya who in his mind had become the best friend he’d ever had. The two hugged, as teen girls normally would, and both giggled as Angelo produced the stuffed kitten for Tanya to kiss as well.

“Oh my darling, you’ve been crying,” Sharon said, looking at Angelo’s reddened eyes and flushed face.

“I guess,” he replied, brushing his mussed hair from his face. His motion was unmistakably feminine.

He felt messy and unkempt, and felt, like most women, that he should excuse himself and fix his face and hair. He rejected that feeling immediately, realizing that he must maintain a boy mode.

“Listen to what Heather’s friend has to say now, Lizzie and Angelo,” Sharon said.

They all walked into the kitchen, gathering around the table, with Angelo bringing an extra chair from the dining room. Mary Elizabeth had been preparing a cider punch to accompany the orange cake that Angelo had baked in the morning.

Michael began by stating he and Heather had been affected by Angelo’s story, his life with a sick mother and her death, his awful experience living with his aunt and cousins and his obvious feminine demeanor. Michael was active in a social justice group in school, and felt that the people who were gay or lesbian or transgendered should be respected.

“We don’t know if you’re what they call a transsexual, or not, but if you are, that should be considered,” the Michael said. He was warming to his topic, becoming more and more demonstrative as he expressed his thoughts.

“But, child welfare is thinking of accusing me of abusing Angelo, but letting him dress as a girl,” Mary Elizabeth said. “I tried to tell them that he seems only to be happy when he is a girl.”

“I know, Mrs. Dayton,” Michael said. “It’s also true that he’s only 15, and child welfare is properly concerned that a foster parent doesn’t lead a child into a life that could bring problems. The agency has to be careful, otherwise they’d be turning children over to pedophiles.”

“I understand, but can’t Angelo’s case be looked at more carefully? Shouldn’t his desires be considered?”

Heather intervened then: “Yes, Mrs. Dayton, that’s the point. We’re going to help you with child welfare, to make sure they don’t remove Angelo without reason.”

“And they have no reason to remove me,” Angelo piped up. “She’s the kindest, neatest mummy anyone could have. I miss my mum, but I love my new mummy.”

Mary Elizabeth eyes welled up in tears, and she reached over, patting Angelo’s slender hand.

“We’ll do everything we can to help Angelo remain here,” Michael said.

“Yes, we’ll all drink to that,” said Mary Elizabeth as they raised their glasses of cider high.

(To be continued)