Cousins in arms 1(5) Flapper girl

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn.

Ray had lost the bet and he had to come to the school Halloween costume party as a girl with a companion. Later I’d got to know it wasn’t just companion but rather a date. Don’t ask what bet. His friends were all like that. I remember a few years ago when I was hanging with Ray. The funniest thing they thought to do then was to smear a snot over a doorknob.

Ray was sixteen and sophomore, like my elder sis Cindy. I was thirteen. He asked for help. I said I’ll do everything to help him. Not that I could much. I knew something about make-up, more than Cindy knew. Cindy was tomboy-nazi. At the same time not like other tomboys, she wasn’t volleyball or basketball or any other-ball player. She was in a dance squad. Like cheerleader only doing it on the ground, without jumping or tumbling. At rallies she needed make-up but she didn’t know how to apply it. Mom had shown a few times but Cindy didn’t grasp while I did. I did her make-up when she needed it. I could do Ray’s make-up.

He didn’t know what costume to take. His friends offered everything sexy slutty like a nurse, French-maid, or schoolgirl. Ray then was already halfway in his puberty. He was six-one and almost one hundred fifty pounds. His voice had broken already and he was shaving every next day. He didn’t look like an adult man but he was no way a bit feminine.

How make him a convincing girl? My mom came to rescue. She was in drama when she was in high school and later in college. She had some of her old costumes stored in the attic. Among them was a flapper girl costume. A boyish figure with almost no curves was in fashion in the 1920s. The fashionable hair was short – another pro for flapper. Add to this one-inch heel and very sparse makeup with only lips accented in a cupid bow shape. Every boy could be dressed as the flapper girl if he wasn’t Frankenstein. Ray wasn’t.

So we settled what costume it will be, we had measured Ray and knew what alteration to do. Then the second shoe dropped.

“Ari, I want you to be my companion,” Ray stated. Ari’s my name short of Ariel, meaning the Lion of the Lord and not redhead mermaid. Our fathers served in Afghanistan years ago. The two of them were what people call brothers in arms. And they decided to name their son’s by each other’s father’s name. So Ray was named as my dad’s father and I was named like Ray's grandfather.

“Huh? No,” I responded.

“Ari, please. My friends all have dates to go. And I currently have no one to ask only you.”

“Zoe? You both are an item,” I offered.

“It’s already in the past,” he mumbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You see, I need your help. Really.”

“If I’ll go I’ll need costume too,” I mused. “You are a flapper so I have to be something from the same period, maybe kind of gangster with the Thompson?”

Mom didn’t have what I needed, but she had friends. She got a hat, striped coat, shoes, and Thompson. The shirt I had my own. The only thing I needed was striped trousers.

That was a problem. I didn’t have even black ones. At the moment money was an issue. My younger bro Martin was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy and the entire time mom was with him. There were a lot of things that were recommended and weren’t covered by health care. Dad was a construction foreman. His salary was enough for healthy living but not for disability. I was sidetracked, sorry. I had three pairs of jeans to wear at school. At home and around I was wearing leggings. Like, mom and Cindy. Nobody cared and it didn’t bother me. Eventually, mom bought striped leggings. They were more than ten times cheaper as similar suit pants.

I had a costume for me too. I looked good. The coat was covering my butt. As it and leggings were coordinated they seemed like the parts of the same costume. Applying a dark blue shadow to my face I managed to imitate the five o’clock beard. My hair was short. It wasn’t buzz-cut but short and parted on the left side. I guessed I looked fairly masculine for a thirteen-years-old.

The next question was dancing. You say flapper girl and you see her dancing Charleston. I knew what it was and I could dance Charleston because my sis Cindy was in dance squad. They were practicing a lot in the field behind our backyard. There were sixteen girls and they had their dancing moves arranged in pairs and squares. For one girl of sixteen to be missing was a usual thing. I was their substitute to fill for any missing girl at their practices. I knew basic moves and basic dances. They didn’t do anything fancy. The gist was to move synchronously.

Ray didn’t dance. He danced fast dances what’s like jumping to the rhythm of the music. He’d had few classes of ball dances but he didn’t remember much. We had still a few weeks for him to practice.

On the day of the costume party, Ray drove his car with me in the shotgun seat to his school parking. As we exited the car and I was leading him with his arm hooked in mine I turned to him…

“OMG Ray! How you manage to smear your lipstick while driving the car?”

Good, I’d noticed it. I took a purse from him and hanged it over my shoulder. I had no pockets because I was wearing leggings and Ray had no pockets because he was in the flapper dress. I took a tissue folded it to make the sharp edge wetted it with my tongue and cleaned around his lips. Then I reapplied the lipstick and corrected eyeliner.

“Keep your hands away from your face, OK,” I offered.

“Yes, mom.” He was impossible.

There were two teachers at the entrance to the dancing hall.

“Oh! Mr. Fisher, you’ve made it!” the teacher at reception said. “Or would it be Ms. Fisher this time? And who is your date today?”

I was about to introduce myself but Ray was faster: “Ariel Spencer,” he said.

“Well… I write it like MISTER Ariel Spencer and MISS Ray Fisher,” the teacher said with a chuckle. He emphasized the words, Mister and Miss.

“Who has done your make-up? It’s a good idea a blue beard shadow,” the female teacher praised.

“I did it myself,” I replied.

“You are not from our school?” the teacher asked.

“Lyman Moore Junior High,” I confirmed.

“I see… I would remember such a pretty face here,” she said.

Ray and I were attending not only different schools. We were in different school districts. Cindy and I were in Portland while Ray was in Falmouth. We were neighbors by our backyards.

I guessed Ray’s teachers thought I was a girl. First I wanted to correct them but then… Teacher’s words I was Ray’s date. I’ll never see those teachers again so why to bother?

Later I found out not only teachers assumed I was a girl. Ozzie Ray’s friend I knew from the past asked me a couple of times to dance with him. He was without date and Ray could go with him. I considered not asking about his girlfriend. I remembered how Ray was upset after he’d split with his girlfriend Zoe. Then I danced with Ray and then a pack of us danced together and suddenly the music was switched to slow dance. I was about to retreat from the dance floor but Ray stood in my way.

“Would you?” Ray asked. “Girls say as I’m one of them now they wouldn’t dance with me.”

We started to dance and it was weird, extremely weird. He was almost a foot above me. With him close to me my head was under his chin. The slow dance ended and Charleston followed. That one we did perfectly. Days spent practicing with Ray weren’t futile. We weren’t the only two on the dance floor. Only two of us were dancing while others were trying to participate. After the Charleston, I wanted to take a break but the waltz started and it was announced as the last dance of the party. Ray didn’t let me go. He had practiced so much. I couldn’t let him down. Only in the middle of the dance, it downed to me that Ray was leading. No matter how was he dressed he was a man here. I didn’t notice how it happened but it was just so – his right hand on my waist and my left on his shoulder. Crap!

After the party, Ray drove me and Ozzie home. Ozzie while he had no car and his home was two houses away from Ray. First, he drove to my home. I was sure we would go to Ray’s home and then I’ll come home through a backyard. But Ray decided otherwise and he made almost two miles hook to let me out at my home door.

It wasn’t very late when I got home. I didn’t expect mom waiting for me.

“How was your date?” she asked.

“Mooom!”