The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2655 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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Danni wrote the card and I addressed it to the Echo, thanking them for the lovely flowers, but that as a minor, she was unable to offer any sort of interview. If they sought further comment, they should speak with the FA. I stuck on a stamp and would post it the next morning.

The websites of various newspapers mentioned the women’s international and how the youngest player shone brightest in the talent stakes with mention of her wonder free kicks and marshalling the midfield. One even suggested that not only would David Beckham be proud of her but might well be jealous of her skills.

The Youtube video of her free kicks had now been viewed by over a hundred thousand and I was concerned the thing could go viral and really blow up in our faces. I wasn’t sure Danielle understood the consequences but then at thirteen perhaps I didn’t either.

The incident in question was getting my ears pierced. I already had very long hair having refused to get it cut from age eleven, except to trim off the split ends which I did every few months. My hair was always clean and shining and carefully tied back with one of the thin elastic ties into a ponytail. My nails were always clean and tidy and shaped. I sometimes even painted them with nail hardener, which was like wearing clear varnish. Sometimes I just buffed them until they shone like they’d been polished, in which case I would then rub in a nail cream or oil.

Siân and I went to town one day and I had instructions to get my hair cut. We went to the salon I frequently used and was addressed as Miss Watts, which made Siân smirk, and she dared me to get my ears pierced. The problem with being issued dares, is that you pick up the gauntlet before you realise to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Thanks to Siân’s challenge I agreed to get them pierced and sleeper studs inserted so when she spoke about two earrings, I assumed she meant one in each ear. She didn’t and I went home with four studs which I knew would get me shot. In the end I chickened and only left two studs in situ which meant the other two healed up in couple or so days. I was able to keep them covered by relaxing my ponytail, which then allowed the hair to droop over my ears and mostly they weren’t visible, but it was nineteen ninety six and loads of men and boys had ear studs in both ears. My problem then, was simply that I looked more girly than they did from the start, so with very long hair, my fine features and androgynous body shape, it confused people.

Out of school, I was frequently mistaken for a girl in my grungy androgynous clothes. I refused to wear jeans where the crotch was level with my knees and the tops of my underpants showed above the waistband. In my case it would have been panties not underpants. I’m sure my mother knew I was wearing them even though I cut the labels out of them, and I went for plain cotton ones—they were just women’s ones.

In school barely anyone noticed me anyway unless they needed a punch bag. So it was several weeks after I got them done that they were spotted. It was a five minute wonder and as the school only had policies about jewellery contravening health and safety laws and that it was a boy’s school, they didn’t expect to have to rule on wearing earrings, so there was no policy, ergo no one was likely to get into trouble for wearing discreet ones like mine—okay Siân bought me some sparkly ones but they were very small and I wore them several times before they were spotted.

What happened then was a couple of bullies grabbed me down in an area near the lockers and told me to remove my ear studs or they’d make me wear some bright pink lipstick. Fearing that would cause problems with my parents, I took them out. They then made me wear some huge red plastic hoops. Of course it was spotted and I got sent to see Murray who practically frothed at the mouth, showering me in spittle as he ranted and raved. He told me I was an unnatural creature and should be in therapy not messing up his school. He ranted at my hair, my effeminacy and general lack of moral fibre. I was told to return later to the secretary’s office where he’d have left a letter to my parents. It filled me with dread.

I had lied saying I was wearing them for a bet which he didn’t believe. However, he didn’t instruct me to remove them, so I didn’t not until the end of the day when the boy who’d insisted I wear them collected them to give back to his sister.

The letter to my parents told them that I was becoming a bad influence on others flaunting my effeminate ways, with my girlish hair and pierced ears. As neither were contrary to the school policy I had got away with it, but wearing such outrageous dangling earrings contravened health and safety and they were to ensure I toed the line in future. His final remark: ‘Charles’ effeminacy concerns me and I half expect him to attend wearing the girl’s uniform one of these days. Perhaps if he did it would curb his unnatural tendencies by saturation therapy.

It appears my father spoke to Murray and to my horror I was sent to school in the girl’s uniform for a week; my dad thinking the outlay was worth it if it stopped me acting so girly. The first day was dreadful, almost continual abuse from staff and students alike. I met up with Siân on the way home and she advised me on makeup and putting my hair up—she had to show me. It was an as over the top response to Murray as his had been to my being bullied with the earrings.

I was shunned or abused for quite a bit longer than the uniform punishment lasted, they all called me Charlotte or Miss Watts apart from other abusive terms. It was ironic that I wanted to be seen as female because that was how I felt inside but not in the manner in which it was granted. Nowadays, he’d have been in court if not prison for child abuse—he was too excitable to be a good headmaster.

Experience is a harsh teacher. I learned a few lessons the hard way, I suspect Danni still has some more to come.