Judy was very excited. “You’ve got to come over after school and see! It’s so exciting!”

“What is?”

“You’ll see. Just come over, please!” she implored.

“OK, OK.” So began my journey of 10,000 miles.

When I got to Judy’s house, she led me to her room and showed me the newspaper. Not many 8th graders read the newspaper, but Judy does – every day. She handed me the paper and pointed to a small article on page 12. It was about Margret McFee, the widow of the Internet millionaire. She’d died and left $10,000,000 to Braintree Academy for merit scholarships for girls from under-funded schools.

“Isn’t that exciting?”

It took me a second, then I put two and two together. Braintree was the best high school in the state – well for girls, anyway – and now Judy, who was as bright as they come, might be able to go. “That’s great, Judy! Now you have a chance to go Braintree – a really great chance. I bet you’re the smartest girl in the county and Emerson sure is under-funded, so you’re sure to win a scholarship if you apply! I’m so happy for you.” I hugged her – my heart filled with joy for her. It would really change her life. Over 90% of Braintree girls got into Ivy League universities.

Tears welled in my eyes. Partly they were tears of joy for Judy, and partly, I realized, tears of sadness. Braintree was a boarding school on the other side of the state. I’d be loosing my best friend.

“It’s not just for me, George. You could go too.”

“Judy, who wouldn’t want to got to Braintree? But, it’s a girl’s school, and the scholarships are for girls.”

“You didn’t read the whole article. Read here, near the end.”

“Ms. McFee, long an advocate for gender equality, selected Braintree not only for its academic excellence, but for its leadership in gender equality. While it is not generally known, many of Braintree’s 1200 students are transgender, having been born male. The school declined to specify the number of transgender students currently enrolled.”

“I Googled it this morning. You don’t have to be a girl to apply for a scholarship! We can go together! Isn’t that exciting?”

I was in shock.

She continued, “We’re always trading between numbers one and two. If I can win a scholarship, so can you!”

“Judy, Judy, Judy! I don’t feel like a girl born in a boy’s body. I’d never qualify as transgendered. It would be a lie!”

“Come over here.” She took my hand and led me to the old computer on her desk. “I bookmarked it. Here. Read there,” she said pointing.

“Scholarships are open to genetic and transgender girls. Transgender girls are persons who, though born male, express themselves by dressing and acting as girls.”

“See?”

“See what?”

“You already act like a girl – me! We like the same things and except that you stand to pee, we do the same things. That’s why we’re such good friends – and frankly, it’s why Joe Valdez and his gang call you a sissy.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but, actually, my mom made me sit to pee at home – so as not to make a mess.

“Well, we may act the same, but I sure don’t dress like a girl!”

“That’s easily remedied. I can give you my old training bras and the panties I out grew when my hips got bigger – and a blouse and skirt or two.”

“You could, but I’m not a sissy. I won’t do it!”

“I never said you were a sissy! But, if you won’t apply, neither will I. I won’t go off and leave you. Remember when those feral dogs were chasing us and I sprained my ankle? You wouldn’t leave me – and I won’t leave you.”

This may all seem rather silly, but it was in deadly earnest. Ralph Waldo Emerson Elementary is in the worst school district in the state. Cantwell, the high school we’re bound for, has a dropout rate of almost 50% and college admission rate of under 10% – most of it to junior colleges. Also 2-3 students are shot each year. Judy and I have been thinking for years about how to go someplace else. Now Judy had her chance.

“Judy, you’ve got to apply! You can’t go to Cantwell.”

“I’m not applying unless you do.”

“I’m not dressing like a girl!”

“Why not? Sacrifices must be made.”

“You know why not – I’d be beaten to a pulp.”

“We’ll think of a way.”

I went home with a lot to think about and black plastic bag of Judy’s clothes.

When I got home I did my homework. Even though it was boring stuff I already knew, I did it because one third of our grade was based on homework. Next, I made dinner for mom and me – chili and beans with fried tortilla chips.

After mom and I exchanged greetings, she washed up as usual. I served her, then joined her and we said grace. “George, what’s the black bag in the living room?”

“It’s a present from Judy and something we need to talk about.” I told her the whole story about Ms. McFee, Braintree, the scholarship, and Judy’s attitude.

“I see.” She sat quietly, scooping up her chilli with tortilla chips. I said nothing, knowing she was thinking.

“Well, George, I know you’re a quiet boy who doesn’t care for sports, and you don’t have any male friends, just Judy. Still, I never thought you wanted to be a girl.”

“I don’t, mom.”

“Have you ever dressed in girl’s clothes?”

“Judy and I played dress up when her mother watched me a when I was 4 or 5, but that’s it.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was fun. Girls’ clothes are more fun than boys’.”

“Well, I can’t deny that. How would you feel about wearing girl’s clothes and acting like a girl all the time?”

“I think I’d be scared. I mean I don’t want to be beaten up.”

“Is that all? You wouldn’t miss being a boy?”

“Other than the clothes and being scared about them, I don’t think it would be much different.”

“You think that now, but there would be all kinds of small differences – some good and some bad – and of course the big difference that not a lot of girls want to date a boy who wears dresses – though some boys might.”

“I’ve never dated a girl, so I don’t know what difference that would make.”

“You’re only 13, George. The older you get the more you’ll want to date girls – or boys … Do you like boys, dear?”

“Not like that – that I know of, but then I don’t know about girls much either – except that they’re interesting to look at.”

“Their bodies, or their clothes?”

“I don’t know, just them.”

“OK.”

“So, what did you tell Judy?”

“That I’d think about it.”

“So, what have you thought?”

“Well, I don’t want to lie, but I don’t have to. So that part’s OK. I want Judy to go to Braintree. It is a thousand times better than Cantwell – and a million times safer. It’s a once in a lifetime chance for her, and I don’t want to screw it up for her. It’d be a good school for me, too, but I’m not sure it’s worth living like a girl for four years.”

“It would be hard, but you’d have the rest of your life to get over it.”

“Mostly it comes down to me being scared shitless – pardon me mom …”

“You’re excused this time.”

“Mostly it comes down to me being scared versus what’s best for Judy. That’s how I see it. What do you think, mom?”

“Well, I’m sorry that Judy put you in this position, but I know why she did it, and I kind of agree with her. This is a once in a lifetime chance for you, too. I vote you face your fears. Still, it’s a huge decision and needs to simmer a while before you decide.

“Let’s see how you’d look as a girl. Go put on your bra and panties while I look at what Judy gave you.”

My bra and panties? I blushed and took a plain white bra and panty set from the bag to my room. Putting them on gave me an embarrassing tent, but some cold water returned me to normal.

“Well, don’t you look cute! Here, try on the sailor set.”

The blouse was white with blue trim. A matching scarf tied at the neck. The skirt was also blue, with six brass buttons in two rows on the front. It came to just above my knees. I remembered how cute Judy looked in it. Mom tied the scarf and loaned me a pair of ankle socks. My blue and white sneakers completed the ensemble.

She led me to the hall mirror. “Well?”

“It’s embarrassing, but I like how it looks more than what I usually wear.” I was even more embarrassed to like how the padded training bra gave me a bit of shape, but I didn’t mention it.

“Me too, George. Let me see what I can do with your hair.” After brushing and pinning forever, mom managed a barely passable hair do. “You’ll need to get it cut if you’re going to do this. Let’s try on your other skirt and blouse.”

The second set was a plain white blouse with a round collar and puffy sleeves. The skirt was a red, white and black plaid with pleats. It only came to mid thigh.

“Mom, every one will see my panties if I wear a skirt this short!”

“Nonsense! You look darling in it. Did you ever see Judy’s panties when she wore it?”

“I guess not.”

“It’s just a matter of learning to move like a girl. I’ll show you how to walk, sit and stand so that that no one sees your panties either.”

As I was practicing, we discussed what to do next. We decided that I should talk to Mrs. Brandeis, my English teacher.

Before I went to bed, I called Judy and told her all that happened.

After class Judy and I asked Mrs. Brandeis if we could talk to her some time.

“What about?”

“Our plans for high school, Mrs. Brandeis.”

“Oh. I’m glad you’re thinking about it. I don’t think Cantwell is right for you. I’d love to hear what you’re thinking, but I have a busy schedule today. I’m supervising lunch again. How about coming to my classroom after school?”

“We’ll miss bus,” we complained.

“What if I drove you home?”

“That would be wonderful! Wouldn’t it George?”

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all for my two favorite students.”

Once the halls cleared, we climbed the stairs to room 204, where we had English. Mrs. Brandeis was grading a huge stack of papers. She looked up. “Hi, George, Judy! So, what are you thinking?”

Judy opened her backpack and took out a file folder with the newspaper article on Ms. McFee’s legacy, selected printouts from the Braintree website and other stuff, including articles on Cantwell. For five minutes she impressed the hell out of me. When she got to the part about me applying as a transgender girl, Mrs. Brandeis jaw literally dropped, and she looked at me. I nodded. Still, she didn’t say anything until Judy finished.

“Judy, I’ve always thought you were a very remarkable girl, but the presentation you just made was as good as any I heard when I worked in industry. Still, it’s hard to believe you convinced George to change gender to go to Braintree with you.”

“I told him I wouldn’t apply if he didn’t. I won’t leave him behind.”

“I see. And, George, how do you feel about this?”

“I want Judy to go to Braintree, and it’s the best school I could have a chance to go to, but the idea is very scary. Still, I can’t let my fear stand in the way.”

“Have you discussed this with your mother?”

“Yes.”

“And her reaction?”

“She had me try on some outfits Judy gave me. Then she said we should talk to you.”

“Wow!” Mrs. Braindeis sat silently, thinking. “Well, sadly, Judy’s plan makes perfect sense. Cantwell is no place for either of you, and George, you could resume your male identity after you graduate from Braintree if you wanted to. Still, this is not something to rush into.”

“Oh, but, Mrs Brandeis, it is,” said Judy.

“Why?”

“Because George needs to establish his transgender identity as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I can see that. So, what do you want from me?”

“Well, advice, support and letters of recommendation when the time comes,” said Judy.

My concern was more immediate. “And a way to prevent me from being beaten to a pulp!”

“Well, I do have an idea for that. I’ll talk to Principal Kowalski, and let you know if I can pull it off for you. Let me lock up, then I’ll drive you home.”

Judy got dropped off first. When we got to my house, Mrs. Brandeis talked to me a while about the implications of becoming a girl, then asked if she could talk to my mom on the phone. I gave her mom’s cell.

Once home, I changed out of my school clothes. I don’t have a lot of clothes, so mom insists that I keep my school things nice. When I opened my closet, my skirts and blouses yelled out at me. I thought how good I looked in my sailor outfit, and was tempted to put it on, but thought it might be “school clothes” next week, so I should keep it nice too. I thought about wearing a bra and panty set – to get used to them – so I took a pink set out of my drawer, but I didn’t want mom to think I wanted to be a girl, so I put them back. If things kept going the way they were I’d be wearing them soon enough anyway.

I cooked mac and cheese, jazzing it up with frozen peas and canned tuna. Mom had a frilly apron in the cupboard that called to me, but I was still a boy.

When mom got home, I told her about our conversation with Mrs. Brandeis, and that she might be calling mom.

After I finished my homework, mom suggested that I put on my plaid skirt and practice moving like a girl. While I was changing, Mrs. Brandeis called and mom closed the kitchen door to talk to her privately. So, I was alone in a mini skirt in the living room worried that someone might come to the door and see me – though they hardly ever did. Then I thought how everyone might be seeing me like this soon and got so nervous I almost threw up. By the time mom finished on the phone I was a mess.

“I had a good convers … Oh, dear, what’s wrong, George? You’re as white as a sheet!”

“I’m worried someone will see me like this! I feel like I might throw up.”

Mom hugged me. “Calm down, George. Come sit in the kitchen. Put your head down between your knees and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

I started feeling marginally better.

“George, no one but me has seen you in a skirt yet. You can call this whole thing off, and no one would blame you.”

“Thanks, mom … but, I have to do it for Judy … and for me too … You know, I read that Admiral Nelson used to be seasick for days at the beginning of each voyage, but he got over it and was a great sailor. I guess if I throw up a few times it would won’t be much different.”

“That’s my brave girl!” mom said hugging me.

“George and Judy, stay for a second. I talked to Mr. Kowalski, and we have a plan to stop George from being ‘beaten to a pulp.’ If you still want to go ahead, George, you need to go and see him. Well?”

“I’m going ahead.”

“OK. Here’s a hall pass. Judy, you’d better get to your next class.”

I felt a bit lost without Judy to explain everything and started getting nauseous as I walked to the office. Mr. Kowalski had been a third-string line backer for the Bears and a coach before becoming a principal, so all the kids were intimidated by him. I suppose that’s why he was the principal. Anyway, I started imaging how he’d feel about a sissy who wanted to wear skirts to school. The more I imagined, the more scared I got. I was afraid I’d wet myself. I stopped at the boys’ room to relieve myself. That helped, but it also made me more scared, because I imagined what it’d be like to go into the boys’ room in a skirt and blouse. Maybe I could wear a diaper. Then the idea of some bully pulling up my skirt and finding a diaper made me even more nauseous.

By the time I got to the office, I was so green, the secretary sent me to the nurse. The nurse had me sit with my head down and then breathe into a paper bag. After 15 minutes I was ready to see Mr. Kowalski. When I walked into is office, he smiled at me, shook my hand and offered me a chair.

“Mrs. Brandeis had a long conversation with me and told me the plan Judy Myers and you cooked up. It seemed crazy at first, but I understand now. I can’t think of anything that would take more guts, George! When I went to Cantwell, my way out was football, and I did everything I could to take it. So, I understand and am proud to have a student like you in my school!”

Wow, I thought. This isn’t what I expected. I relaxed, and tears filled my eyes. I was so embarrassed! He’d just said how brave I was, and now I was crying.

“It’s alright George. Really. Now, I understand you’re worried about some of the boys beating you to a pulp if you come to school in a skirt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen in my school – or out of it for that matter. Wear your skirt and whatever Monday. I’ll have Mrs. Brandeis pick you up at 7:30 and escort you so no one sees you before I address the students. You’ll come directly to my office and I’ll introduce the new you. I guarantee no one will lay a finger on you once I finish. OK?”

“OK, Mr. Kowalski. Thank you, sir.” My fate was sealed.

Judy and I sat alone at lunch and I told her all that happened. She was so happy she gave me a big kiss – right on the lips! Luckily, no one saw, or at least said anything.

Saturday morning, mom got me up early and showed me how to shave my legs. There wasn’t a lot of hair on them, but lately my peach fuzz had gotten longer. I also shaved my underarms. When I was done, she had me put on my mini skirt and took me to the salon.

“Mom, I don’t know if I’m ready to go out in a skirt.”

“Well, if you don’t want to do this, you need to tell me. Otherwise, we need to get you ready for Monday. So?”

“OK, I’ll do it.” I felt nervous, but not as bad as I had walking to Mr. Kowalski’s office.

When we got to the salon, mom told the lady I was a Tomboy who hated spending time fussing with my hair and asked her to recommend some styles. She showed us a book, and I picked a pixie cut. It looked most like a boy’s style and would be easy to care for.

Next, we drove to the mall where I got my ears pierced. Mom bought me small pearl studs like Judy wore. She said I needed a good dress for church. God, I hadn’t thought of going to Mass in a skirt. What would Father Gordon think? We went to the Juniors department at Macy’s and a lady came to wait on us.

“My daughter’s growing up, and needs an adult dress for church. What’s on sale?”

“Our sale dresses are over here,” she said leading us to a section.

“Could you measure my daughter? What size does she wear?”

“I she’s a small. Call me if you need any help.”

Mother and I browsed the racks. Unlike boys’ clothes, there were hundreds of dresses to choose from. No wonder it took girls hours to shop. At first I was very embarrassed looking at dresses, but after mom held a few against me, and no one stared, I discovered that I liked some more than others – and some very much. We picked out three I liked and went to the dressing room to try them. The one I most liked was what the lady called “a grommet-detail fit and flare dress” in a color called cobalt – which is a kind of blue. One problem was the top was loose. My little training bra just didn’t fill it out. Mom talked to the lady. Soon I was wearing a plain white A-cup bra with pads called falsies.

Wearing the dress made me feel happy and I told mom so. It cost more than she planned on paying, but she bought it for me anyway since I liked it so much. “Every girl should have one dress she really likes.”

At Payless we got a pair of black strappy sandals with 2” heels. I haven’t mentioned it, but I am not big – only 4’ 11” and 89 pounds – Judy is like 5’ 2”. Anyway, I liked how the heels made me taller. Maybe more boys would wear them if they knew. I also got some floral print sneakers to wear to school. They had so many colors they would go with most anything I wore.

Our final stop was a consignment shop where we got three skirts, two pair of shorts and five tops for $40. When we got home I spent an hour deciding which skirt and top combinations I liked best. They all looked better when I wore my new A-cup bra. Mom came in a couple of times to comment on what I was wearing.

“Mom, I’m too old to wear a training bra. All the other girls have regular bras.”

“I agree dear, we’ll get you some more tomorrow. … There’s one more thing, George. You need a feminine name. I almost called you ‘George’ when you were trying dresses at Macy’s. Have you thought of one?”

“Not really.”

“Well, give it some thought. Maybe Judy has an idea.”

“Mommy, you should name me,” I said hopefully.

“Well, if you were a girl I was going to call you Melissa after my aunt. Do, you like that name, dear?”

“I love it, mommy.”

Sunday I went to Mass in my new dress. Father Gordon didn’t recognize me when he gave me communion. Several of mom’s friends did and surrounded us in the parking lot after Mass.

“Sandra, why is George wearing that dress?” asked Mrs. Perry, who wasn’t really a friend, just a horrible busy body.

“This is Melissa, and she’s wearing this dress because it’s the one she liked best at Macy’s. I think it looks great on her, don’t you? … Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I never …”

“Then it is about time, because you've been sticking your pointy nose in where it doesn't belong far too long!”

“Well, I …” When she couldn’t think of anything more to say, she stormed off in a huff, followed by her toady, Mrs. Wilkins.

Standing by patiently was Mrs. Sanchez, who was in St. Vincent de Paul with mom, and her daughter, Rosalind, who is in my grade. “I don’t care why Melissa is wearing her dress,” said Mrs. Sanchez. “I yus come over to say how beautiful the two of you look this morning.”

“Thank you, Delores.”

“George, I mean Melissa, I think you look great! I love that dress and the color is perfect for you. Just ignore those bi…, I mean ladies.”

“Thanks, Roz.” Tears welled up in my eyes. Roz hugged me.

“Would you like to join us for breakfast, Delores?”

“We would, but we can’t. We have a long drive to see my Tia Maria. She’s not doing well.”

“I remember. Melissa and I will pray for her.”

“Yes, we will,” I seconded.

When they left, mom apologized for exposing me to Mrs. Perry and Mrs. Wilkins.

“Mom, if I’m going to be wearing dresses, I have to expect to upset some people. I liked how you said she had a pointy nose.”

“It wasn’t very charitable of me.”

“Maybe not, but she deserved it.”

“Are you up for breakfast at Denny’s?”

“Yeah, I want to show off the dress my mom got me.” I was in a defiant mood.

Our breakfast was uneventful. The waitress said how nice we both looked and no one indicated they thought I was a boy. In fact, a boy I didn’t know, who looked about 14, kept ogling me. When I smiled at him, he blushed and turned back to look at his family. That never happened when I was a boy.

We stopped at Target on the way home and mom helped me pick out two more A-cup bras. One was beige with a little bow in the center, but the other was a red tee shirt bra. Mom was surprised that I picked it out. She also got me a package of panties, ankle socks, a small purse, a make-up book and some inexpensive makeup to experiment with. Being a girl is a lot more expensive than being a boy.

When we got home, mom suggested that I change into a tee and shorts and experiment with my makeup until lunch. One of my old white tees went well with a pair of red shorts from the consignment shop. I wore my red bra under it. It was neat the way it showed through.

Makeup was a whole new world for me, but I followed the book. I started with nail polish. I made a mess the first time. So, I took it off. The second time I did a pretty good job. Strangely, pink nails made me feel more like a sissy than all the clothes I’d worn.

I paused for a while and tried to understand my sissy feeling, but couldn’t. I only knew that part of me liked it and part of me hated it. An hour had gone by, so I started on my face. I put on lipstick, but then looked at the book, and found out that’s not how you’re supposed to do it. So, I took my lipstick off and started over with concealer and foundation. My face looked ever so much better than it had as a boy. I added a bit of color to my cheeks and lipstick. I was pretty!

I stopped there, as the chapter on eye make up was long and complicated. Besides, I liked how I looked so far. Mom was making toasted cheese sandwiches when she turned and saw me. “Oh, my! … I shouldn’t be surprised, but you’re lovely, Melissa. That’s a perfect look for school tomorrow. Why don’t you call Judy after lunch and ask her over so she can see how great you look?”

“I like your pixie cut, Mel, but I wish you waited. I had some ideas I wanted to try on your old hair.”

“Well, we’ve got four years, so you can try other styles when my hair grows out.”

“I suppose so. I do like your pearls. We look like sisters.” She pulled me to a mirror so I could see how our earrings matched.

“We do, a bit. I’m glad,” I said without a lot of enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong Mel? Don’t you like how you look? I think you look wicked!”

“I do like how I look – maybe that’s the problem. I feel like a sissy,” I said looking at my pink nails in the mirror as I turned my studs. My red bra was clearly visible under my tee.

“Is that bad?”

“Well, all this time I’ve been trying not to be a sissy. Now I think maybe I’ve been a sissy all along. I mean would a real boy like being pretty?”

“Well, if he didn’t he’d be pretty stupid, and you’re not stupid, Mel.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s wrong with being pretty – whether you’re a boy or a girl? It makes people happy to look at you. Isn’t that a good thing? … And, why shouldn’t you be one of the people who’re happy that you’re pretty? Only bullies would get mad at someone for being pretty. Besides, if you’re going to do it no matter, you might as well be pretty and enjoy it.”

“I suppose so. I’ll have to think about it.”

“I expect you to! … Now lets see your new clothes. I want a fashion show! Let’s see your dress.”

I got it out of the closet.

“Can I try it on?”

“I don’t see why not. Here, I got these heels to go with it.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Judy stripped down to her bra and panties. I was wearing a bra and panties myself, but I reacted to seeing her strip in a very ungirlish way. Luckily, I’d tucked myself back, and nothing showed. Still, I was blushing furiously.

“Don’t be such a prude. We’re sisters – and besides, you’ll see a lot more when we’re at Braintree. I’m sure.”

Anyway, it didn't last long. It took her only a few seconds to get into the dress. I zipped it up the back as she stepped into my strappy sandals. She looked in the mirror – turning this way and that.

“You have great taste in dresses, Mel. Can I borrow it sometime?”

I’d never lent clothes to anyone, but I knew girls did. “I guess so.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “Unzip me and let’s see how you look in it.”

I started taking off my shorts and tee.

“Bra too! That bra won’t work with this dress.”

For some funny reason, I was reluctant to take off my bra and expose my chest to Judy. I realized it was because I was ashamed of not having real breasts. Of course, she knew that, but still it seemed to matter that she'd see I was wearing falsies. I turned my back to her as I changed bras.

“You’re a very shy girl, Mel, but I love you anyway.”

I didn’t know what to say. Somehow my flat chest was something to be ashamed of – like a birth defect.

Anyway, once I changed my bra, I didn’t mind turning around. I saw Judy looking at my flat crotch. I blushed. “I tucked myself back. It didn’t look right to have a bulge.”

“No, I guess it wouldn’t. Here, step into your dress.” She helped me into it and zipped it for me as I had for her. “It looks even better on you than it does on me. The color goes with your eyes and makes them look deeper blue.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

We spent most of an hour trying on various combinations and discussing what worked best together. I discovered that my other shorts were hot pants. Judy thought I looked really sexy in them, heels and a tee rolled up to expose my belly button. I didn’t think my mom would want me dressing like that – at least not in public.

After going through my clothes, Judy wanted to try my makeup – on both of us. Her mom only let her have pink lipstick. We used the book and made up each other’s eyes. Some of the looks worked, but many made us laugh. Mom came in and looked at us and laughed too. It was one of the best times I ever had with Judy.

Just before Judy went home we discussed what I should wear my first day as a girl at school. I wanted to wear my cobalt dress and my heels, but mom said it would look like I was “putting on airs.” Judy suggested the plaid skirt and white blouse she’d given me. We all agreed it would be best, even thought I was still shy about wearing such a short skirt.

Monday morning I woke up and realized it was the day I’d start dressing like a girl at school. I was so scared I literally threw up. Mom managed to get a piece of dry toast into me, but that was all.

“You’re absolutely white! Are you sure you want to go?”

“Yes. I have to … for Judy … and me. If I don’t go today, I’ll just toss my cookies again tomorrow.”

Mom gave me some OJ to sip slowly.

“I’ll do your make up,” she said, starting to apply concealer. “You need some color, or everyone will think you’re dying.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. Remember Mr. Kowalski said everything would be OK. You trust him don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said with marginally more energy – maybe from the OJ.

Mom continued with foundation and blush as I sipped my last meal. “OK, put on your lipstick.”

I opened my compact and saw how pretty I was. “Thanks mom.” I broke a faint smile.

Just then Mrs. Brandeis knocked to take me to school.

“Oh my God! You’re beautiful, George …”

“It’s Melissa,” interjected mom.

“Melissa! And a big girl too,” she said glancing at my bra.

I was shaking a little.

She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “It will all me fine – you’ll see. The fix is in.”

I wasn’t sure what “the fix” was, but I knew she was trying to encourage me. “Thanks, Mrs. Brandeis.”

In the car she told me that from now on I’d be using the girls’ restrooms at school, but shouldn’t be a problem since the stalls are private. Other than that, she made small talk to take my mind off of what lay ahead. I was lost in my own thoughts – wondering if I was making the most horrible mistake of my life. The next thing I knew, I was sitting alone in Mr. Kowalski’s office.

After a few minutes, he walked it, carrying a large tree branch like a club. “Melissa, what a pretty girl you are,” he said, smiling warmly. “Do you have any questions?”

“Probably, but I can’t think right now.”

“I understand. It’ll be OK. You can see me anytime you need to.” He stood and walked over to my chair. “Here, take my hand.”

We went to the auditorium’s stage entrance. As he opened the door, the murmur of quiet voices made it clear that there was an assembly. He led me to a chair next to the podium. Everyone was staring at me – even though other people were sitting in chairs next to mine. One was a policewoman.

Mr. Kowalski put the branch across the podium. “We are here today to welcome a new student, Melissa Antonelli,” he said, gesturing to me. “Many of you may have known her as George Antonelli, but, as you can see, she is really a very pretty girl. The reason I’m talking to you is that I know some of you are bullies. Bullies are sniveling cowards who pick on people weaker than themselves. Bullying makes me very angry, and when I am angry, I am inclined to break things.” He picked up his branch, and broke it over his knee, with a loud crack that sent splinters flying. There was a shocked silence in the hall. No one was looking at me anymore. “Now, I hope none of you will give me occasion to become angry by bulling Miss Antonelli or her friends. However, in case you do, there will be further consequences. To explain them, I have invited Lieutenant Justine Lane of the hate crimes squad. Lieutenant Lane …”

Lieutenant Lane talked for about 15 minutes explaining what hate crimes were, what the law said, and what had happened to some of the delinquents she had arrested for attacking homosexual and transgendered people. When she was done Mr. Kowalski dismissed the assembly and sent them to their classrooms to discuss what they’d heard.

Finally, he took me by the hand and escorted me to Mrs. Brandeis’s English class. No one bothered me after that. Some boys gave me funny looks in the hall, but no insults came my way.

As usual, I sat with Judy for lunch. Roz came over and invited us to eat with her friends. They were all very nice and welcomed me into their group. I answered their polite questions as best I could. Mostly they wanted to know why I liked skirts, because most of them preferred pants. I told them skirts were a prettier, but I worried about boys seeing my panties. That made them giggle. I also said how shy boys seemed now that I was in skirts and told them about the boy at Denny’s.

After lunch, we all went to the girls’ room. It was my first time. Two things surprised me. First, the line to use the facilities. Second the conversation. This is where the girls talked about boys. Some of the conversation was so frank, I blushed. Clearly, they no longer considered me a boy.

While I was waiting in line Roz asked to look in my purse. She put two tampons in it.

“What’re they for?” I whispered.

“Some one may ask to you for one. You need to have a spare to give her.”

After lunch I used to have wood shop, but Mr. Kowalski suggested that I go to home ec and talk to Mrs. O’Malley about transferring. They were just finishing their first unit, cooking. I was able to convince her to let me take the test on Friday. If I passed, she’d let me transfer.

When I got home I changed into boy clothes, but left on my bra and panties, as I didn’t look like a boy in my pixie cut. I told mom everything that happened at school, and that I was making friends as a girl.

“Maybe being a girl will be good for you. I mean you need more friends.”

“Yeah, maybe. I mean yes, I like having more friends.”

Life in middle school is not very exciting, even if you are a boy wearing skirts.

The next Friday I did some cooking at lunchtime for Mrs. O’Malley. She made a few suggestions for improvement, but said I know how to cook better than most girls in her class. The next unit was childcare. A lot of the girls were interested in that so they’d have a better chance of getting baby-sitting jobs. I thought it was good for me because even fathers should know how to take temperatures and change diapers.

With more friends, I got invited more places after school. Girls have a lot of get-togethers that aren’t really parties, but are fun just the same. I had to stay up later to finish my chores and homework. I decided to be more selective in accepting invitations so I’d have time to do everything. Mostly my reading suffered a little.

One Saturday Judy invited me to see the new Jane Austin movie. As usual, we stopped at the drug store to get candy before we went. I decided purses were much nicer for candy than pockets – the chocolate didn’t melt. Anyway, when we were in line to buy tickets, two 9th grade boys, Ron and John, asked us what we were going to see. We told them. They were going to see X-men, but they’d like to see something with us. Judy seemed to know Ron, and wanted to join them, but not for X-men. Finally, we settled on a comedy that started a little later.

Since we had to wait in the lobby for the theater to open, the boys went to buy us sodas. When they were gone, I said, “Dating boys isn’t a part of acting like a girl that I’m interested in.”

“Don’t worry, Mel, they’re harmless. I really want to get to know Ron better. Would you please be nice and go along?”

“Alright, but John better not kiss me or anything.”

“He wouldn’t – did you see how shy he was?”

“Yeah, I guess so. OK. I hope I don’t regret this.”

When they got back with our sodas, Ron asked Judy if she wanted to look at the posters of coming attractions. I figured they wanted to talk alone. I was left with John.

“John, you seem familiar, did you go to Emerson last year?”

“No, Mel, but you did see me before. You smiled at me in Denny’s a couple of weeks ago. If you hadn’t, I would have said no to Ron when he wanted us to talk to you two.”

“Oh,” I said blushing.

“I hope you won’t get mad, but I saw you even before that – at Denny’s. I thought you looked cute even then, but you were a boy.”

Oh! I …” I was starting to panic.

“Please don’t be upset. I’ve never said this to anyone before – but I have a secret too – I like boys.”

“Oh.” I said. No one had ever come out to me before. “I don’t know who I like yet, John. I mean, just because I wear skirts doesn’t mean I like boys.”

“I know Mel. I’m not expecting anything. I just like you – in pants or in a skirt – it doesn’t matter to me.”

I wanted to be mad, but John was baring his soul, and I couldn’t be.

“So, what do you want – from me – John?”

“Just to spend time with you, if you’ll let me. I mean I don’t even know what I want. You’re just so pretty.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

It was very sweet, even if it was not what I was hoping for.

“Enough of that, John!” I reproached gently.

“Sorry.”

“It was very sweet of you, but I’m not ready to be kissed by boys yet.”

“OK. I won’t kiss you again without asking.”

“OK.”

Just then Ron and Judy wondered back.

“The theater just opened. Why don’t you two get us some good seats while Mel and I visit the ladies’ room.”

“Sounds good.”

“Well, someone is making good progress. I saw that kiss.”

“It’s complicated. He has a crush on me – and he knows I’m a boy.”

“How?”

“He saw me in Denny’s when I was a boy, and then when I was a girl. He thought I looked cute both ways.”

“I’m sure you were. So, is he gay?”

“Yes, but he’s not out to anyone but me.”

“I won’t let on. … So, how was the kiss?”

“It was just on the cheek. Still, it was very sweet. He seems really nice.”

“So, are you going to encourage him?”

“Well, I don’t want him to feel rejected, but I not looking for a boyfriend.”

“Well, let me know what happens.”

“So, is Ron nice?”

“So far, but he hasn’t kissed me yet – so you’re the fast worker.”

I blushed.

In the theater, it was John, me, Judy and Ron next to her. It was fun. John put his arm around my shoulders and by the end of the movie I was leaning against him a bit. There was no more kissing. He asked me for my phone number, and I gave it to him.

When I told mom, she asked, “Why did you give him your number?”

“Because I like him – not because he’s a boy.”

“We’ll see, dear.”

John became a close friend. I knew he was gay, and he knew I wasn’t interested in making out with him. Still, as time went on, I let him be affectionate if he behaved – putting his arm around me or kissing me on the cheek. We became close enough that I told him why I started wearing dresses, and even that I preferred dressing like a girl. I asked if he’d like to try my clothes, but he wasn’t interested.

Mom kept an eye on us, but treated John well, and didn’t interfere. Most people thought John was my boyfriend. He was certainly the closest thing I had to one.

Having a 9th grader as a boyfriend increased my social status. I didn’t tell the other girls John knew I was a boy, lest I out him. When asked, I’d say, “He’s happy the way things are – and its not like I’m going to marry him.” One girl, whose boyfriend was a sweet, pimply, 8th grader, kept telling me it wasn’t right. She wore a C-cup, even though I knew she was barely an A. Looking at her chest, I just said, “We all have our little secrets, don’t we, Linda?” After that she wasn’t so moralistic.

Meanwhile, Judy was letting Ron be a little more adventurous. She was letting him do things I wouldn’t let John do, but then she’s a real girl and I’m not. It all came to a head one Thursday when Ron went to her house before her mom got home to make out. After he’d gone as far as she ever let him, he wanted to put his hand in her panties, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. They had a physical fight and Judy bit him on the arm. (John saw the bite the next day, and said it drew blood.) Ron left. That was the end of the two of them. John and Ron also stopped talking.

I spent a lot of time consoling Judy the next few days. Judy thought she could trust John and loved him. So what he did really hurt her. I didn’t know what to say. So, I suggested she talk to her mother. She was too embarrassed. Finally, I said. “Why not talk to my mother? She understands a lot more stuff than I do”

If Judy hadn't been hurting so much, I don’t think she’d have agreed, but she did. We walked over to my house and I left the two of them alone. Later, Judy told me what mom said.

Judy was embarrassed, but told mom that she had let Ron take her bra off and kiss her breasts and also French kiss her. She thought mom would yell at her, but she didn’t.

“Judy, I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, and not letting yourself be forced into going farther than you felt comfortable with.

“All boys and girls need to explore and find out about their bodies and about how other people respond. It’s part of growing up. So, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong in letting boy, or girl, you like kiss you or touch your breasts. Your mother and I both did when we were growing up. It’s part of becoming a woman.

“Still, you need to keep safe. It isn’t safe to be with someone, like Ron, who is bigger and stronger than you, and more sexually mature, when no one’s around to protect you. So, you shouldn’t have let him in when your mother wasn’t home to protect you – but you know that now.”

“Well, I couldn’t do it with my mom in the house, could I?”

“Why not?”

“Well she wouldn’t let me … I mean she wouldn’t let me and a boy … you know try things.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want you having sex at your age, but she was 13 once, and knows how it feels. Maybe you could talk to her. When John visits Mel, I let them have some privacy, but I’m still in the house. Maybe your mom would give you and your boyfriend some space if you talked to her.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. Are you embarrassed to talk to her? I could talk to her for you, but it would be better if you did it.”

“Oh, please don’t tell her about this!”

“I wouldn’t unless you said it was OK.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“So, are you scared of boys now?”

“A little, but mostly, I …”

“What?”

“Well, I thought Ron was nice and I could trust him. Now I … I don’t even trust myself to know if a boy’s going to be nice.”

“Well, part of that is because you’re only 13 and don’t have a lot of experience with boys – but believe me a lot of grown women have a hard time judging men. That is why I’m divorced … and your mom too. We thought the guys we married would be a lot nicer than they turned out to be.”

“So, you can’t trust boys?”

“I didn’t mean that – there are selfish ass … selfish ones and nice ones – like John. He never pushes Mel.”

“But he’s gay!”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with it. He’s just a nice boy.”

“Oh.”

“So, you have to follow your feelings, but keep your eyes open – and, at your age, especially, keep safe.

“Feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you Mrs. Antonelli. I like talking to you. You don’t treat me like a child.”

“I’m glad I helped, Judy.”

Judy didn’t talk to her mom, but decided not to get mixed up with boys until she was a bit older.

After Judy’s experience with Ron, I realized what a gem John was. I still was not attracted to him sexually, but I really liked being with him because he always made me feel special. If I had a bad day, spending time with him made me feel better. His arm around me made me feel warm and loved. I felt he deserved more than I had given him. So, I invited him over for dinner one evening. I cooked hot dogs and baked beans, home made potato salad, and an apple pie I made myself. When he arrived, I kissed him on the lips and told him how much I liked him and the way he treated me.

After dinner, mom left us alone in the kitchen. Our dish washing was interrupted with a lot of kissing, and toward the end we were French kissing and John was very excited. Even my panties were damp. I could tell John wanted to go further, but he was a gentleman, and didn’t.

That night, as I thought about what happened, I cried. I wasn’t a girl, and I wasn’t the kind of boy John deserved. It wasn’t fair to him to lead him on and then frustrate him. The next morning, I talked to mom about it. I told her how much I liked John, but that I did not want to be with him like a girl, or like a boy with another boy. Mom said how much she liked John and wished, for his sake, things were different. Still, she agreed that dating me was not fair to him.

Later, when John came over, I took his hands and kissed him gently.

“John, you know I love you and being with you.”

It was the first time I’d said “love” to him, so his eyes brightened. Mine were filling with tears.

“The problem is I don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“But, last night …”

“Last night was what made me realize it. You deserve someone who would have wanted to go further. … I did … but not for the reason I should have. I wanted you to be happy, but if I’d done … more. It would have made you happy for a while, but I would have hated myself latter … and that would have made us both unhappy.”

“But, the way you kissed me …”

“You deserved to be kissed like that … I wanted you to know how much you deserved to be kissed like that … because I love you … but as a friend, not as a lover.”

“But, you seemed to be excited to …”

“I was, but it didn’t feel right … I was imagining that you were a big strong girl taking me in her arms.”

“Oh …”

“So, we should not see each other for a while. You need to find someone else to love – a boy that deserves you and wants to give you the kind of love you deserve.”

“I’m not interested in anyone but you Mel …”

“I know …” Tears were streaming down my cheeks. “You better go. I’ll always be your friend.”

John left. I went to my room and sobbed until I fell asleep. Mom was right, wearing skirts had consequences I never dreamed of.

The rest of eighth grade streamed by. Most of our teachers had us doing independent study, and Mrs. O’Malley helped me make two dresses with patterns and fabrics I bought at the fabric store.

In February Judy and I applied to Braintree for scholarships. We both scored in the 99th percentile on the state standardized test, even though we took it early. Mrs. Brandeis and two other teachers wrote us excellent recommendation letters. In April, we got called out of class to be interviewed Ms. Cora Jackson, a recruiter from Braintree. She asked us a wide range of questions. Judy did better on current events and I did better on science, but she told us both were definitely Braintree material.

I happened to be wearing one of the dresses I’d made. She complemented me on it. I explained I made it myself, and pointed out details I’d added. She’d had some doubts about me being a girl, but when she saw me walking in, they’d all evaporated. She said there was no doubt that I was a confident young lady who would fit in perfectly.

At the beginning of May, we received letters saying we were accepted, and had won full scholarships. Judy was to report September first, but I was to report the previous week for “special orientation.”