1 – Joining the Girls
Molly and I became truly good friends; maybe you could say girlfriends. During the last few weeks of summer before school would start, Molly, my little sister Carolyn and I had a great time playing with dolls. Usually she joined us at our house, but every so often, Carolyn and I went to her house to play with Molly’s large collection of dolls. Both Molly and I were twelve at the time, about to enter 7th Grade.

Because mom and dad both had to work, I had assumed the job of watching over eight-year-old Carolyn the previous school year. It was then I created a fondness for dolls, having first joined Carolyn to play with her dolls in those after-school hours to keep her happy. At twelve, most girls rarely played with dolls, much less a boy at that age. But I guess Molly and I were exceptions.

What was most fun were the scenarios we created with the dolls, with each of us assuming a character and acting out various roles. Since the only dolls we had were girl dolls that meant I played the part of a girl. Eventually we developed three distinct girls, Molly was Nancy, who was sort of a tomboy, Carolyn became Hester, a mischievous little sister to Amy, who was me. As the imaginary girls developed through those late summer weeks, Amy became the girliest of the three. I hadn’t planned it that way, but that was just how I came to feel.

“These feel so real, Polly,” Molly said. Like Carolyn, she had begun calling my Polly, my name Paul or Paulie being used only when others were around.

“I know. I feel sometimes that I am just like Amy,” I said.

“You are just like Amy,” Carolyn chimed in.

“You really are, Polly. You’re such a girl,” Molly said.

I should have been mad at her for saying that, but for some reason I didn’t object. I think I blushed, however.

Mom had been apologetic for asking me to look after Carolyn in the after school hours, but I knew the problems our family was facing. We didn’t have much money, since dad had been laid off so long during the recession, and mom needed to work; baby-sitters were too expensive. Dad wasn’t home much; he worked two lousy jobs and when he was home all he did was eat, watch a little television and go to bed to find a few hours of sleep.

“You’re such a good boy, Paul, and it’s a shame we have to have you watch over Carolyn,” mom told me.

I truly understood the situation and I felt almost like a grown-up to be given this trust. Besides I found I liked doing stuff with Carolyn. Both mom and dad, however, had grown worried that I might not be losing out of playing with my friends. I didn’t really have any friends, except for Chad Entermann who came to play video games with me every so often. And, I didn’t like most of the boys from school; they talked nasty, made lewd comments about various girls and liked to make fun of other kids. Often I was laughed at for hanging around the girls; some kids had taken to calling me names like “fag,” “sissy,” “fairy boy” and “girl.”

One day, a week before the fall semester was to start, Molly entered our house carrying a backpack.

“I brought you something, Polly,” she announced.

“What? What? Show us, Molly,” Carolyn demanded excitedly.

“No, Carolyn. It’s for Polly, not you,” she said, stifling my little sister’s enthusiasm.

Molly suggested the two of us go to the bedroom, where we closed the door, leaving Carolyn alone in the living room.

“What’s this all about?” I asked, suspicious of what she had in mind.

“Here,” she said, opening the backpack and extracting a pair of denim girl shorts, a pink tee shirt, a pair of panties and a bra. She laid them out of the bed.

“If you’re Polly, you should dress as Polly,” she said.

“I can’t,” I argued.

“Why not? Only Carolyn and me will see you, and I know you like playing the role of a girl.”

I blushed. She was right, of course.

“But?”

“No buts. You’ll look so cute, Polly.”

I nodded. “OK,” I said.

She left the room while I stripped down; I put on the panties and they felt so smooth and soft. Since my male organ had hardly matured, it made but a tiny bulge in the satiny material. I loved the feeling. I yelled out, “I’m ready” signifying that it was OK for her to come in and help finish dressing me. I hoped Molly wouldn’t be disgusted at seeing me like this, my slender, weak body; I felt I was to be humiliated.

If she was critical of my less than impressive physique, she didn’t show it; her smile seemed to show that she liked what she saw.

“Carolyn’s all upset at being in the dark on what we’re doing in here,” Molly said, when she re-entered.

“I hope she won’t tell mom and dad.”

“I’ve already warned her that this is a surprise for her and that it was to be a secret just for us three.”

“She should be OK,” I said. “I think she really likes me.”

“She does, and Polly, you have such a lovely body. Just like a girl’s.”

I said nothing. Molly helped me put on the bra; it was one of her training bras, and she found a pair of my socks to stuff the cups. I stepped into the denim shorts; they were quite short, showing most of my thigh. I noticed they had no fly in the front. The tee shirt was pink, with purple words that said, “Girl Time.” When I was dressed, she brushed my longish light brown hair (it came down to my shoulders) and applied a pair of barrettes to hold the strands in place.

“Here, step into these,” she said, having brought a pair of sandals from the backpack.

“You even have pretty feet,” she said.

I am a girl, I thought, as I looked at myself. Molly was right; I was cute.

Molly leaped with joy when she saw me. “Now I really have a big sister.”

*****
When I started 7th Grade, I had to go to a new school; it was a bigger school called Mary McLoed Bethune Middle School. I don't know why, but for some reason, Jefferson, the grade school I attended, went to the sixth grade, while most kids went to schools that ended at the fifth grade. So that meant, the few of us from our school were looked upon as being "different" and as being "new," since most of the kids had already had a year to get acquainted and to make friends.

The first thing I realized was that I would be separated from most of the kids of my class from my first school, which was both good and bad. The good part, of course, was that I would be likely separated from all of the kids who bullied me in grade school. The bad part was that I would also be separated from the few friends I made in grade school, like Molly and the other girls.

The size of the new school also scared me; I was always on the small size among the boys, and in my grade school many of the girls towered over me as well. In Bethune School, it seems all of the kids were big and I feared that I might be bullied more than ever.

Fortunately, my friend Molly and I took the school bus from the same stop, and she'd be accompanying me into school. The fact was we were both frightened as to what we'd find there, fearing that either we'd get lost and never find our classrooms in the monster school or that our lunch money might be stolen. We had heard about many such horror stories occurring at the big school.

"I think I'll be laughed at," Molly said as I met her. She was standing apart from three other kids at the school bus stop.

"Why?” I asked.

“’Cause the way I’m dressed.” Molly wore a full skirt that went below the knees, a beige blouse and a light green cardigan sweater.

“You look nice, Molly,” I said sincerely.

"Look, they're all in jeans," she said, pointing to the two girls and the single boy at the bus stop.

"Oh? Then look at me," I replied, suddenly feeling overdressed in my black trousers, a light blue shirt with a button down collar and black running shoes.

She nodded. "Yes, we look like nerds, I guess."

I almost felt like running home and changing, but there was no time for that. I looked at Molly and we both giggled, perhaps a nervous response as we contemplated the day ahead, fearful we’d likely be the subject of ridicule of every other kid at Bethune Middle School.

*****
The first few days of school turned out to be cool; no one bullied me, for one thing. All of my classes were with other seventh graders like myself, and I guess we were all getting used to the flow of the school at the beginning of the school year. The school day started with a ten-minute period in our homerooms, which I quickly discovered were populated according to the alphabet. Molly Edwards would obviously be in a different homeroom, since my last name was Torrance. That did put me in the same homeroom as Sarah Simpson, my classmate from grade school. I blanched when I entered the room to see her already there; she had been my enemy in grade school since she thought I stole the lead soprano role in chorus. ("A girl should sing the lead soprano part," she had argued.)

I was surprised when she waved at me, offering a big smile and pointing to a vacant desk next to her. Fearing what Sarah might have in mind, I hesitated before accepting her invitation to sit next to her. I looked around to see if there were any other friendly faces, but the only other former classmate I saw was already surrounded, with no available seats near to him.

"Hi Sarah," I said hesitantly as I sat down next to her.

"I thought we'd be in the same homeroom, Paul," she said cheerfully.

"I guess," I said, not certain how to respond to her sudden burst of friendliness. We had hardly talked in grade school; she had her clique of "in-girls" and none of them ever spoke to those of us they considered "beneath them."

"Did you do any singing this summer, Paul?" She asked, as we waited for the class to begin.

"Not really, just around the house."

"Oh, I sang in the choir at our church," she said proudly. "I was the youngest member. Can you imagine?"

"Nice, Sarah. You have a beautiful voice," I said, happy to praise her.

"But you know what?"

"What?"

"They made me an alto. I'm no longer a soprano. Can you imagine?"

"Alto?" I said.

"The director said my voice really was being strained when I sang soprano and that I'm better suited as an alto," she said.

"Sorry about that, I know you liked singing soprano," I said, since sopranos always seemed to get top singing roles.

"I did, but I think the director was right and I feel good singing alto."

"Well there are many great altos in the world, like Whitney Houston and Ella Fitzgerald" I said, hoping to comfort her, since I felt she was still disappointed over not singing soprano.

She smiled, perhaps surprised and grateful for my words. "Are you going to try out for the chorus here?" She asked.

"Not sure."

"You should, Paul. Your voice is terrific. Everyone said you had the purest soprano they'd heard."

"But didn't you say only a girl should sing soprano?" I teased.

"Well, yes. But you sang beautifully. I could never hit those high notes like you did."

"Quiet down all of you," a booming male voice said. "Welcome to the first day at Mary McLoed Bethune School."

With that Mr. Reynolds started the homeroom period.

*****
Even at twelve years old, Sarah was a strikingly beautiful girl with long jet black hair that hung down to the middle of her back. She had dark eyebrows that created sort of a mysterious demeanor. And, she was already sprouting noticeable breasts that had become the envy of other girls in her class who despairing over the slower pace of maturation.

Even though I had never considered Sarah as I friend, I was enraptured by her and I loved watching how she walked and used her hands. Her motions were fluid and easy, not overly dainty. I heard some of the boys talking about Sarah's budding breasts, and I felt their comments were ridiculously lewd. I wondered what it would be like to be a girl like Sarah and to know that boys were probably making nasty comments about your breasts. I wondered if Sarah liked having bigger breasts than the other girls.

On the first day of school, Sarah wore a knee-length green and yellow print skirt and dark green peasant blouse with yellow trim. She wore yellow Keds and no stockings on her healthy, tanned legs.

"You should join the chorus in school," she told me as we left homeroom for our first class of the day. We were both scheduled for English with Mrs. Popovich.

"I don't know," I said truthfully. While I was certain I'd likely make the chorus; my voice was certainly good enough, I had been assured, but I knew I'd be singing in the soprano section, again obviously the only boy in the sea of girls.

"Come on. You'll get some after-school credit," she said.

"No, I don't think so," I said, hoping she'd forget the idea.

"Why?"

"You know why?" I replied sharply.

"Oh? 'Cause you'll be the only boy?"

"You and the others will just make fun of me," I said, starting to cry.

"But . . ."

"Just leave me alone," I said, turning from her to run into the boy's bathroom.

I wanted a place to hide, and rushed into an unoccupied stall, grabbing some toilet paper from the dispenser and rubbing my eyes to dry the tears. I couldn't stay long, since I didn’t want to be late for class, particularly on my first day in the new school. I rushed out and headed to Mrs. Popovich's class, entering just as the tardy bell sounded, finding the only empty seat was next to Sarah. She must have been saving it for me. I sat down without looking at her.

A few minutes into the class period, I stole a look in Sarah's direction; she caught it and smiled at me. It was a sweet, caring smile, I thought. I gave her a tentative smile in return. I found it hard to concentrate on Mrs. Popovich's words, my thought wandering into speculation about Sarah's surprising interest in me. I was hardly boyfriend material, and I had seen her in the company with a tall, muscular ninth grade boy, Harrison Mitchell, who had already made the high school football team.

Throughout the morning, I could not escape Sarah; we both had the same class schedule it appeared, and she always managed to be at my side. We met two of her close friends from Jefferson, our grade school, in Mr. Hawthorne's math class, just before lunch.

"You remember Paul from Jefferson," she said after we were settled near to each other in the classroom. Mr. Hawthorne had yet to open class.

I recognized the two as Ingrid Bjorstrom and Melody Nelson, both girls with pale complexions, long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Ingrid was short, soft and cuddly while Melody was taller, extremely thin.

"Sure," said Melody. "The voice."

I blushed with her description, unable to respond as the class started.

As class ended, the four of us rushed out together to the cafeteria to begin lunch period. "You should eat at our table," Sarah said to me.

"With you?" I asked, incredulously. I knew it would be all the girls from her in-crowd group at Jefferson.

"Sure, please Paul," Melody said.

I begged off, saying that I had promised Molly that I'd join her for lunch period.

"I think there's room for both of you," Sarah pressed. "Join us."

As we entered the cafeteria, Molly beckoned me; she was at the end of the buffet line and urged me to join her. “I’ll join Molly now,” I said, breaking away from Sarah.

“OK, but when you get your trays, you’ll see our table over in the far corner,” Sarah said. “We’ll save two seats for you.”

Molly was puzzled by Sarah’s eager invitation. “What’s she plotting now, Paul? She’s always scheming something. Let’s eat alone.”

“No, we better join her,” I said. “She’s been in all my morning classes and she’s been nice to me.”

“OK, but I don’t like her anyway,” Molly said.

After we got our food, I could see Sarah beckoning for us to join them and I nodded in reply.

“I guess we should join them,” I said to Molly.

She agreed and we walked over the table where five girls sat; there were three empty seats. Thus it was that I began spending my lunch periods with seven girls; I was the only boy. I felt right at home.

*****

“Do you like Sarah, Paul?” Molly asked as we left the school bus several afternoons later, just before we headed to our homes. I had to hurry home to be there when Carolyn got home from school.

“She’s kind of nice,” I said.

“Are you going to join the chorus?” she asked.

“I don’t know that I can. They practice two days a week after school and I have to get home to watch over Carolyn,” I explained.

“But do you want to?” she pressed.
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“I guess.”

“You can spend more time with your Sarah then,” Molly said, her tone snarky.

“What?”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

Suddenly I saw where Molly was headed with her questions. She was jealous of the time I was spending with Sarah.

“Yes, I like her and she’s nice to me, but I like you and being with you even more,” I said, honestly.

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve never had more fun with anyone but you. I love being with you. You let me be who I am. You let me be Polly.”

Molly smiled at me. “I like you as either Paul or Polly,” she said.

“I’ll call you tonight,” I said, leaving her to hurry home to Carolyn. If we got our homework done, I figured we might have some time to play with her dolls.