When there was an announcement that Amy Amstel should come to the school secretary’s office urgently since there was a call waiting for her from her modelling agency my class-room exploded in laughter at the obvious joke someone had managed to pull. Everyone looked at the boy in the second row – me. My teacher is in on it and said:

- They must mean you, Andrew. Off you go.

I hated the fact that I looked like the young teenage girl model Amy Amstel. More precisely I hated the ribbing I got for looking like her. I could, just, accept that my fellow students joked about it but teachers?

- No, Miss. There must be some mistake. I’m not going.
- Don’t be silly. Don’t dilly-dally. Hurry up, they are waiting for you.

I finally regretted all the pranks I had played on Miss Draper. Well, I suppose it’s part of growing up to realize and regret the sins of your misspent youth. I went.

While not among the top-ranking models Amy Amstel was a fairly successful young teenage model. You could see her in adverts for beauty products and clothing of various kinds, though never underwear or intimate hygiene. That wouldn’t have fitted with her image. Apparently she was rather shy and prim. She never appeared in celebrity settings and in the only interview she had given she had stressed that she wanted to live a quiet life outside of work. As a matter of fact she kind of had a reputation to be a recluse. Despite her undoubted talent that low profile prevented her from making it really big.

The only reason she was a household name in our school, among girls AND boys was that Darius, the school star quarter-back, was absolutely and hopelessly infatuated with her. He collected all the adverts she appeared in, wrote letters to her (actual physical ones!), tried to meet her and when that failed sent flowers to her c/o her agency. The poor guy really had it bad. The rest of the team joked about it mercilessly. He just smiled and agreed that he had completely fallen for a girl that he’d never even meet. Then someone noticed that I resembled Amy Amstel … Well you could imagine the jokes that I and to no less extent Darius were the victims of.

Given my teacher’s attitude I just had to play along. I went to the office. I asked to take the call in private. It was as I had expected. I was angry. At lunchtime Darius unexpectedly sat down at our table. He kindly but quite firmly asked my friends to leave us alone. I admit; the oversized boy intimidated me. What was he going to do? My friends had abandoned me. I could see everyone else in the cafeteria looking at us. Help!

Fortunately my big sister turned up and despite the non-inviting glare Darius gave her she sat down. Yay, thank God! US cavalry arrived just in time. Yeah, just in time to help the Indians taking scalps!

When Darius came with outrageous ideas to ask me out for a date with me as Amy Amstel my sister didn’t shield me. She stabbed me in the back.

- Yes, there is something “Amy Amstel” about my little brother. Put him in a skirt (nearly knee-length, not mini), knee socks, a soft blouse, add a bra with A inserts, put on some discrete make-up and comb his longish hair in a different way and you have Amy Amstel.

Abandoned and betrayed I finally gave in. When dealing with deranged people it’s often better to play along and when it came to Amy Amstel Darius definitely wasn’t playing with a full deck. I foolishly agreed to spend the entire Saturday a fortnight later with him as Amy Amstel. A fully-fledged date. He was to plan everything AND pay for everything. I hoped that this would restrain him a bit. I had underestimated his infatuation.

The two weeks leading up to our date wasn’t exactly hell. More embarrassing than anything else. The entire school knew about my upcoming date as a teenage girl model. They loved it and decided to “help” in every way. The girls spent hours to help me acquire feminine behavior. I also learned that I had not exactly pissed off but at least irritated a surprising number of teachers in school. I really had to work hard to prevent Coach from transferring me to girls’ PE. Mlle Dubois returned an essay I had written in French with a big fat F for referring to myself in the masculine (I later learned that she actually registered it as B+). In drama I was given a girl’s part, fortunately only a small one. The only teacher not in on it was my ballet teacher. When someone swiped my black ballet tights, white t-shirt and black slippers and replaced it with a leo, tights and slippers, all pink, my teacher found me some black tights and slippers. I had the pink leo under my tights.

I turned down no less than three offers for sleep-overs. I also declined to try out for cheerleading. I didn’t accept any of the dates several of the more eligible males tried to get me on. I hope they were joking. You get the drift. I did accept to have lunch with the cheerleaders. Well, couldn’t turn down everything, could I? I considered it educational and thus not threatening to my masculinity. Sis laughed at that.

The big day arrived. Sis dragged me out of bed just after six. I had an appointment at the salon. They had been primed and had several photos of Amy Amstel from all possible angles (courtesy of Darius). Actually I spent less time there than expected. No cutting of the hair, just a different styling. How embarrassing! Fortunately Amy Amstel was known to use minimal make-up. Apparently it’s just as hard, or even harder, to work with subtle make-up.

Back home for dressing. Sis had the clothes I needed laid out. For the day it was just as she had said a skirt (nearly knee-length, not mini), knee socks, a soft blouse, a bra with A inserts. I was relieved that Amy Amstel had a girl next door image.

Darius picked me up and drove us to a photo studio. I got nervous. Just imagine professional photographs of me posing of Amy Amstel circulating! I insisted that both Darius and the photographer signed a paper that the pictures would not be used without my consent. Of course Darius would get a set for himself. We spent some hours there. I was photographed over and over again. Sometimes with Darius. In some shots I was supposed to look lovingly at him. I sure was happy I had made them sign that paper! Actually, the photographer expressed regret at the end of the session. Apparently I was a natural. As if! Just imagine me trying to make a living as the boy Amy Amstel look-alike. No thanks! He promised me a small portfolio anyway and some names at agencies, just in case. It would have been impolite to refuse, wouldn’t it? Of course I had no intention to use it.

Darius then took me to a nice restaurant where we had lunch before heading for the football stadium. He had a game. He left me with one of the cheerleaders. I was surprised to be led to the field and sat with the cheerleaders. Great view! Darius kept waving at me. I was worried that he would be distracted but it turned out he played better than ever. Unexpectedly they won! At the end of the game he came running to me, grabbed me and lifted me. It was only by turning my head that I managed to avoid being kissed on the lips. I was beginning to like his attention.

We left the victory celebration after a while. He brought me to a very beautiful spot by the lake. We just sat there and just spoke for a while. I had done my homework so I could interact as Amy Amstel. I had to admit to being more and more impressed by Darius. He really was a very nice boy. I had to be very careful. It was quite easy to be attracted to him. To break the spell I suggested that the reason Amy was such a recluse was that she had a terrible secret she had to hide. At that he had a good laugh and looked at his watch and saw that it was time to head for dinner. First a brief stop at home to change into that absolutely fabulous evening gown - Darius wouldn't be happy to learn what it cost! Sis helped me with a hasty change in make-up. Before leaving again I looked into the mirror. I couldn’t deny it. I was pretty, I was cute, I was beautiful. I really looked like a teenage girl model in that dress!

Seeing the restaurant I gasped. It was extremely good and extremely expensive. I protested, but not very vigorously. The food really was as good as I expected. The atmosphere was amazing. Darius’ attention was quite addictive. I started to have problem differentiating between Amy and Andrew. We danced and danced. I was surprised that he was such a good ball-room dancer. He was also surprised at my skill, to dance the female part. I told him that I was serious to give him the full Amy Amstel experience. I did not exactly tell him the truth. That would have been too embarrassing. The night ended on a hill-top overlooking the town. The lights and stars couldn’t have been more romantic.

Sitting there with Darius’ arm around me I realized that I could get used to be cuddled by the big boy. There was no denying it, I enjoyed it. He leaned in towards me. It was clear that he wanted to kiss me but didn’t want to force himself on me. I was tempted, sorely tempted, to just melt into his arms in a passionate kiss. I didn’t. This night I was Amy Amstel. That kind of kiss just wasn’t her, not on a first date! I gave him my cheek. After the kiss I looked into his eyes. Really looked for a long time. His face was a strange combination of disappointment and happiness. Happiness dominated. His idea about Amy had been vindicated. Had I given in he probably would have been very disappointed. As I said, it wouldn’t have been Amy Amstel.

For a long time we just sat there, silent together.

Darius dropped me off at home a few minutes before midnight.
- Amy thank you for an unforgettable evening and day. I will cherish this day forever. It was everything I had hoped for. And you can tell Andrew that today I had this great day with Amy. Trying to repeat it would be to destroy a perfect memory. Andrew was in no way involved so he has nothing to worry about.

Easy for him to say!

- I really am happy that you finally got your date with Amy Amstel. You deserved it. You are the most romantic guy. Kind, attentive and all that. Amy Amstel deserves you!

Inside again, after a last kiss on the cheek, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was glowing. I was genuinely happy that Darius had got his perfect date with Amy Amstel. A date that Amy Amstel deserved, too.

I could have killed Sis when she said “Put him in a skirt (nearly knee-length, not mini), knee socks, a soft blouse, add a bra with A inserts, put on some discrete make-up and comb his longish hair in a different way and you have Amy Amstel”. Fortunately Darius thought she was speaking figuratively. That also reminded me. I really had to talk to my modelling agency. They have been told very firmly never, ever, to contact me in school!