CHAPTER 30 -- Biff's Graduation

A couple more things happened before the end of school. The Saturday after the Prom, I was hanging out with Teresa and Carol and Ellen, and Ellen looked upset.

"Some people have been telling me that some people are saying that my prom dress was slutty and that I was a slut! They said other things that were too upsetting to repeat."

We were all indignant. "Who's calling you a slut?" Carol demanded.

"I don't know. Nobody will mention any names. They just look at me funny and say 'some people.'"

"What a bunch of cowards! Can't even insult you to your face!" Carol said.

"Do you all think I'm a slut?" Ellen asked.

"Gosh, no!" I said. You'll notice I was trying to keep my language clean -- I didn't want the wrong word to slip out at school and earn me another paddling. Everyone else said more or less the same.

"Were they boys or girls who were saying this?" Teresa asked.

"I don't know. It was girls who were telling me, though."

"I'll bet it was girls and they were just jealous, because they didn't have the nerve to wear something like that."

"Are you all jealous?"

"No. It's not something I would wear, but I don't think there's anything wrong with it. Although -- if you were hoping you'd get more boys asking you to dance, I'd say it didn't work very well."

Ellen looked at me. "Melanie, you used to be a boy. What did you think of my dress? Was it slutty?"

"Slutty? No. Maybe a bit more, uh, explicit than anybody else's. Actually, I liked it. I thought it looked cool. I'll admit, I had a hard time not staring at your breasts the whole time. They looked really nice." Everyone laughed at this except Ellen.

"So if you'd been a boy, you'd have asked me to dance? You wouldn't have thought I was a -- a -- whore?"

"A what? Is that what they called you? I would never think that! If anything, I'd have thought you were out of my league. Like, why would this beautiful, hot girl want to dance with a loser like me? And if you'd asked me to dance, I'd have been tongue-tied the whole time."

"You didn't look tongue-tied when we danced."

I shrugged. "I guess, now that I know you, I'm not so intimidated by you. And I know how nice you are."

"You don't think it was, uh, indecent the way I showed off my boobs?"

"All our dresses showed off our boobs. I don't think there was a male in the room who wasn't aware of our boobs. Your dress was just a little more explicit."

Carol interrupted. "The question is, what do we do about this -- gossip!? This isn't West High, we can't have people at our school talking about other people this way."

"We could talk to our friends and get them to talk about how disgusting they think talk like that is," I suggested. "You know, social pressure. I'm sure Sylvia and Dennis and their friends would think this is awful."

"We should talk to the Respect teachers and get them to bring it up in class," suggested Teresa. "See, Ellen, we've got your back." And, sure enough, next week, the topic of gossip and insults came up in class.

The next thing that happened was my birthday. That Saturday, Teresa and her parents and I went to my parents' house, and we had a little party with ice cream and cake. But Teresa gave me her present to me before we went: it was a light blue lacy summer nightgown. "I've got one like it, so we'll match!"

I decided to dress up for the party, so I put on my Easter outfit. I was beginning to get used to dressing like a girl, and I wanted to look nice. And I didn't think that there was any way I could dress that would make it any easier on my parents. When I got there, they seemed okay with how I looked. We all sat around the table and had lunch and then my parents brought out the cake and all. My dad gave me a bookbag that I could wear on my back, my mom gave me a shawl that one of her patients had given her a few years back. I guess it was her way of showing that she accepted what I'd become. Biff gave me a book of jokes, and Pete gave me a book on repairing motorcycles -- sort of a joke, since I'd given him "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" for Christmas.

Afterwards, Teresa took me out to the ice cream shop where a bunch of her friends and mine were waiting to wish me a happy birthday. They gave me little presents, like a hair band and a floppy hat and dark glasses. Someone asked if I'd ever "really" kissed anyone. I said I didn't think so. This was my sixteenth birthday, so they started saying, "sweet sixteen and never been kissed." Dennis was there, so they started saying Dennis should kiss me. At first I didn't want to, but they all insisted, and I thought, why not? Besides, it wasn't like it was some gross guy, this was Dennis. Dennis was saying, no, no, too, but he gave in, too.

Anyway, we turned to face each other, and he held my shoulders, but gently, and we looked at each other. I think I was blushing and I had a nervous smile. He was a little taller, so I had to look up a little. Everyone got real quiet. He bent over and rubbed his lips on mine and then kissed me. I was afraid he'd stick his tongue in my mouth, like some boys do, but he didn't. He just moistened my lips with his tongue and rubbed my lips a little, then kissed me again. There was something magical about it. I couldn't move. I just stood there looking stupid. Then he took me in his arms and hugged me, and everyone cheered. I buried my face in his shoulder so I wouldn't have to look at anyone. It wasn't anything I'd have ever wanted to do, but now that it was over, I was glad I did it. If by "did it," you mean "stand there looking stupid while this really, really nice boy gives you the most magical kiss you can imagine."

I couldn't help thinking that nothing like this would have ever happened if I'd stayed a boy. I'd have had a little celebration with my family and that would have been it. I'd have never had so many people show that they liked me.

The last thing was Biff's graduation. I was a little afraid I'd run into people who would harrass me again, but I decided to be brave. I'd go dressed as a girl, which is how I always dressed now, and if anyone gave me any hassle, I'd just give them a raspberry.

So I sat in the bleachers with my mom and dad and Pete and we watched Biff go up for his diploma. I also saw Tom Prescott go up and get his, and I was afraid he'd see me, which was ridiculous. Biff was going to the state university next year to study engineering. He told me Tom had gotten a football scholarship at a school in Texas, so I wouldn't have to worry about seeing him around town in the fall.

After the ceremony, we wandered around and took pictures of Biff and his friends -- his new friends, the ones he made after the jock clique kicked him out. I was glad he'd made new friends. He introduced me to them, and they were nice to me, even impressed that I'd done so well after all I'd been through. "See, there are decent people at West Hell," Biff said. One or two said things like, "Biff, you've got a cute sister," and, sort of joking, "hey, Melanie, are you doing anything next Saturday night?"

I did see two of the guys who had held me down in the empty classroom in January and I thought my heart would stop, but they just looked at me a little funny and then went on by.