“Do you prefer to be called Gayle?”

Pete's Vagina
70.2 Defense
Erin Halfelven

I intended to not dislike the weather girl on general principles, but it turned out not to take any effort at all. As I walked up to the group of politicians and news people, she stuck out her hand immediately, announcing, “I’m Brigitte Montclair, and you must be Pete!”

“If you insist,” I replied— an old joke I think I picked up from watching the Marx Brothers, but she had the grace to laugh.

“Oh, right, right,” she said. “Do you prefer to be called Gayle?”

She knew too much about me already, but I added another bit. “My real name is Gaylen, but I guess Gayle is appropriate when I’m dressed like this.” I made a motion as if to strike a pose, but managed to relax without looking too foolish.

She laughed again. “Yeah, huh? I have to say I’m amazed. You’re so pretty. Beautiful, even.”

I blushed at the unexpected compliment.

Megan had followed me, and stepped up beside me to glare at the gushing weather girl, who took it in stride with a disarming grin.

“Isn’t she?” put in Mrs. Frick, Lee’s mom, who had instigated all of the sideshow stuff with reporters. “Athletic, but so trim and shapely!” She added in an aside to me, “You look perfect as a cheerleader, too, Pete.”

I rolled my eyes. Brigitte snickered, making me like her a bit more in spite of myself.

Lee had been standing there with a movie camera under his arm, but he moved now to be between his mom and me. With Megan on my other side, we faced the weather girl, Mrs. Frick, and a school administrator— like the Earps versus the Clantons. Brigitte winked at me, and I blinked back.

We all made sincere and insincere noises at each other. Then Joanna blew a horn, and Megan and I trotted off to join the other cheerleaders for a short skit about the new girls joining the squad, meaning me and Dave Garcia.

Dave looked hairy and improbable in his ill-fitting cheerleader costume. It wasn’t one of the school uniforms, but some sort of Halloween outfit someone had found in an attic somewhere. He looked ridiculous, but he owned it and made it work.

We ran through the skit, got peals of laughter from the students gathered in the quad, then did a cheer and a version of our fight song where we promised that the Lions would feast on the Wolves tonight. Then the bells rang and we had to go back to class.

Mrs. Frick caught up to me outside of Administration on my way to Calculus.

“Gaylen, dear,” she said, touching my arm. “Can you meet with me and some other people before the game?”

“I guess so, but we have a tactical meeting before the game, and there’s the big pep rally after class. I could squeeze in a short meeting, maybe?”

“Fifteen minutes,” she promised. “Duck Brothers Burgers and Root Beer? But Gayle —Pete— this is just for you, not your friends.”

“Lee is my wheels today,” I pointed out.

She waved vaguely. “Oh, sure, Lee can bring you in his van with his cameras.” She giggled unexpectedly. “He’s okay.”

I opened my eyes wide, both at the odd laugh and at her offhand dismissal of her offspring. She touched me on the arm, then I had to turn away to go to class. What the heck, I thought.

*

Last period for jocks is always P.E. so we can get an early start on practice. After my last classroom meeting, I headed toward the gym, still wearing my cheerleading costume and wondering vaguely if I should change into my football practice uniform. ‘Cause when everyone else got out of class, we would have another pep rally— the big one of the day.

Being a cheerleader was just as exhausting as playing football, I reflected, combined with the social pressure to stay cheerful and keep smiling. My jaws were tired.

Megan fell in beside me, and Lee caught up on my other side, stumping along with the part of his brace under his shoe, leaving marks on the sidewalk. He put an arm around me and I leaned a little his way, sighing.

“Where are you guys going?” Megan asked. “Pete’s locker got moved to the girls’ side of the gym, remember?”

I said a bad word. Lee looked a bit confused. He hadn’t been in Joanna’s house the day everything changed for me and he didn’t remember me as anyone but a girl who played football. I stood on tiptoe and turned my face up for a quick peck on the lips, then turned to follow Megan.

“Ignorance is bliss,” I commented.

“Is he that good of a kisser?” she asked, and we both laughed.

“He’s pretty good,” I admitted. “But I don’t have much experience… with boys.” I looked directly at her when I said that, and she grinned.

“You said I made your toes curl,” she said smugly.

“Hmm,” I agreed.

We moved close and went in through the big door into the girls’ locker room, holding hands.

*

Sonofagun, I thought. My locker on the girls’ side was right next to Megan’s, and inside it were my football uniforms— including the new pair of cleats I’d picked up because the old ones were too big for me. I distinctly remembered putting those in the locker I’d been using in the coach’s locker room, and yet here they were. “Magic,” I muttered under my breath.

I started getting my gear on, struggling to get the tight football pants over my bottom. “Don’t tell me, but do these pants make my ass look fat?” I whispered to Megan, just to hear her giggle.

“Okay, people,” Coach Debbie said from the door to her office, “We’re going to keep it light today and save our energy for cheering tonight and the pep rally in…”she checked her watch, “forty-five minutes. And, hey, Pete,” she added to me, “Spike wants you out on the football end of the field, toot-suite!”

I nodded. “Huh? Yeah, sure. But who’s Spike?”

Coach Debbie turned bright pink. “I meant Coach Wilson,” she corrected, getting redder.

All the girls laughed—me, maybe even harder, because I had heard Wilson refer to her as just Debbie only that morning.