Not sure whether I should continue this one, it's been on my computer for a couple of years. Let me know if you think it's worth finishing.
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Crazy Daisy.
By Angahrad.
"You're a crazy daisy," my father's favourite expression to me, he said it so often I almost thought it was my name, then it became my nickname. My friends and my sister used to call me Daisy or Dais for short. While I was in junior school it wasn't a problem but in high school it was an embarrassment which was quickly pounced upon by the bullies and other predatory types, not helped by my long blond hair and my less than imposing stature. But I was fast and agile and my love of ballet, yes, ballet, made stand out from the crowd.

It was my sister's fault, we're heterozygous twins, which means we're not identical, but you wouldn't know it, because we're so similar. I am possibly a centimetre taller, she is about fifteen minutes older, so she is always pulling rank on me. Her name is Isabel shortened to Izzy or Belle depending on my mood, mine is David but we all know what they call me, which became worse when it was leaked that I did ballet. It was assumed that I was gay, which isn't so, least I don't think so, but I enjoy the balance and physical effort involved.

It all started because Izzy wanted to do ballet having seen Margot Fonteyn or Darcey Bussell on documentary about dance. She was blown away by the elegance and poise of the ballerinas and when I saw the athleticism of the male dancers, leaping about the place as if they were on springs I was impressed. Izzy would go without me and she kept on at Mum until I was conned into going as well to keep her company. Mind you it took the promise of a new bicycle on our birthday to get enrolled in Madame Le Croix's Ballet School. We were six years old at the time and I think Mum must have been distracted at the time because she signed us in as Belle and Daisy.

I didn't know how to put it right, I was often called Daisy at home and by my close friends that I assumed it was a boy's name, I was wrong. So for two years I learned the same moves, steps and exercises as Belle. We even wore the same things with white or pink leotards and even tutus. It was the latter which eventually gave me away, class overran one day and my mother wanted to know why I had my hair tied back and was wearing a tutu.

"Why is David wearing a tutu?"

"David? We thought her name was Daisy?"

"No, it's definitely David."

"Well, our registration forms say Izzy and Daisy and you completed them." She blushed at her mistake. "Anyway she's signed up for the rest of the course, so you might as well let her stay."

They called me over and I skipped over to them like a little girl, "Daisy are you happy doing ballet?"

"Yes," I replied, "I like doing it the same as Izzy."

"Even though you're dancing a girl's part?" asked my mother.

"She doesn't look big enough to do the boy stuff."

"He is rather slight for a boy," admitted my mother.

I blushed but admitted that I liked it. We were only doing the basics, learning steps and poses, it hadn't occurred to me that boys did different things, though I was wondering when we'd do the flying leaps and things, I assumed we had to build up to them and I was enjoying it all anyway.

It was agreed that I would continue as I was for the moment unless either my fellow ballerinas objected or I did. In which case, they'd split us up and Izzy didn't want that, nor did I really.

So it continued and as none of the other girls objected I carried on my training as a ballerina and learning to act like a girl to enable me to continue going to ballet class. Izzy was abetting me as she wanted me to accompany her although it became clear that I was getting more out of it and it was me who ended up with a solo spot at their next show, Izzy just danced as a part of the chorus.

Mum wasn't sure of dancing en pointe but I managed to do it without damaging myself and became one of only three girls in the class who could. As the class went on, most of the others thought I was called Daisy so that was the name I adopted. I stayed smaller than most of the boys of my age in school but about the same as Izzy although she caught me up height-wise and even grew taller.

I managed to keep flexible and could do the splits and also raise my leg up to my shoulder while standing on the other leg. It was suggested it was because of all the flexibility training we did on a regular basis. Because other boys meant either bullies or thieves, I tended to limit much of my social interaction to other girls, I suppose I thought of myself as one especially when dancing, and I probably resembled them more than I did most of the boys in school, not helped by my gender ambiguous clothing. Izzy and I swapped clothes on a regular basis, particularly things like leggings, tops and shorts in nicer weather. I looked as much like a girl as she did and she seemed to enjoys us looking so similar.

I had no need of football or other rough games as I got more exercise doing my ballet training than the would-be jocks anyway and I was more lithe and flexible than that collection of meat-heads. As junior progressed beyond the earlier stages and on towards middle school, our headmistress Mrs Dorian became worried for my future. I was oblivious looking like my sister and dressing the same and my parents also seemed unaware of how things would change in a year or two and seeing as I seemed happy as long as I had my sister and my ballet, I didn't foresee the imminent changes coming.

My father had been concerned at first but he was an internationally recognised orchestra conductor, so he wasn't there much of the time, flitting around the world with Tchaikovsky or Mozart. The onus for our upbringing fell upon my mother, who was, I would eventually understand was described as a flake, a really lovely person, but largely ineffective as a parent. She supported us both as ballerinas despite my being a boy and because we weren't causing a fuss, she immersed herself in her painting - she was an artist with a growing reputation for watercolour paintings, which included portraits, landscapes and some seascapes. We lived near the sea in a big house that overlooked the channel, the large conservatory was her studio and she spent more time in there than in the house.

We had a housekeeper, Doris Pettigrew, who was also an unofficial nanny, who I suppose raised us, and treated us as two girls. She was a ballet enthusiast herself and encouraged us in our training, and took us and collected us from classes three times a week. She called me Daisy and my sister Izzy, and I was very fond of her and she us. I mean, I loved my mother too, so did Izz but we looked to 'Auntie' Doris to sort out anything we needed. Did I say she lived with us? Well she did, so she was always there for us.