Lawrence Jr. dreams about being one of the Bennett girls in “Pride and Prejudice” and soon learns that he can indeed be a pretty girl. He shares in the giggling friendships of a group of girls, but his father’s disgust at his girly ways deepens.

Stacy Kwiatkowski, the kids all called her “Stacy Kay,” was a tall, blonde girl prone to chunkiness, and she had become Lawrence’s closet friend through middle school. She had a broad nose and plain, almost peasant-looking face, but she had a winning smile that made her one of the more popular girls.

Lawrence and she actually were the same height, he being small for his age, and she likely outweighed and probably could have out-wrestled him should they ever try.

This close friendship between a shy, retiring boy and a gregarious, popular girl seemed out-of-place, but it came about naturally in the two young people’s mutual interest in reading. And, strangely, it was an argument over “Pride and Prejudice” that cemented their relationship.

“I think all women should be like Elizabeth,” Stacy said one day in 7th grade English class. “Women need to be in charge, like Elizabeth was.”

The teacher had asked students to say what was their favorite book and why. It was a heady assignment for the young teacher, since she was gambling on the hope that some of the children in her class actually had read a book.

There was silence at first until Stacy spoke up, stating the “Pride and Prejudice” was her favorite book because it showed that women should speak out. Lawrence eagerly agreed “Pride and Prejudice” was his favorite, too, an announcement that brought an astonished: “That’s a girl’s book,” from Hugh Mistele.

The teacher was quick to the rescue, saying boys or girls could read “Pride and Prejudice” and that it was good reading. She, however, didn’t let the issue rest there, asking Lawrence why he thought it was his favorite book.

The question puzzled him at first, and he merely said: “I dunno. I just like reading about the family.”

He realized he answered in a soft, tentative voice, and in a high register.

“They’re all girls, Lawrence,” teased Hugh.

“I know,” he said, a bit more forceful this time. “What’s wrong with that? I like Mary the best.”

His words came out quickly without thinking, and he could hear the class giggling now, mocking his interest in “Pride and Prejudice.” There were murmurs and he suspected he heard the words “fag” and “sissy” and “girl” being muttered in glee.

The teacher, finally realizing what was going on, quickly turned to another student to ask about his favorite book, and he said “Star Trek,” which also brought guffaws since it wasn’t a book at all.

Stacy lived a few blocks from Lawrence and the two rode the same school bus, but Lawrence had paid little attention to the popular girl. She was always giggling with girl friends or flirting with boys, and Lawrence who got on the bus first was content to sit in a rear seat by a window, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Lawrence realized his precise mannerisms and neat outfits had pegged him as a sissy and sought to remain in the background as much as possible. As far as he knew, Stacy never even knew he existed.

Yet, the embarrassing episode in English class brought them together, with Stacy joining him on his seat on the school bus home that day.

“That’s cool you like ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ Lawrence,” she said, sitting next him, her fleshy body red from running for the bus.

“Really?” he said, scrunching his body toward the window to give her more seating room.

“Yes, silly,” she said, still breathing heavily.

He was sitting erect, his feet placed flatly on the floor and his book-bag in his lap, with his hands folded primly on top. His long hair was flowing with the wind from the open window as the bus started up. He realized that at a glance he must look like many of the teen girls on the bus. The boys, he noticed, were all slouched in their seats, angry or bored looks on their faces, many with plugs in their ears, listening on iPods or MP3s.

He remembered his mother’s warnings about appearing too girlish, but he was so penned into his seat it would be difficult for him to change. Usually, no one sat next to him on the bus, since he was often one of the first on the bus, choosing an aisle seat near the back. He had no close friends, and no companion to talk with, until Stacy joined him that day.

Lawrence felt dwarfed by the large girl next to him; he could see that beneath her fleshiness there was a strong body, making him feel weak and inconsequential.

“Miss Hilgersdorf suggested we form a book club at school,” she began.

“Oh?”

“And, Lawrence, you know, she’ll be our adviser and there might be some extra credit,” Stacy continued, now regaining her breath.

“I like to read,” he said tentatively.

“That’s obvious, and so do I. Do you wanna join us?”

“That’d be OK, I guess, but when do you meet, ‘cause I gotta get home and make supper for my dad.”

“Make supper for your dad?” she asked, surprised.

He reddened, realizing he told this girl something he didn’t have to tell. Now, she must really think I’m weird, he thought.

“Well . . . ah . . . yes. Mom leaves for work about the time he gets home and he wants a hot meal.”

“That’s being a good son,” she said. “But we only meet on Tuesdays for an hour after school, and my mom picks me up, and she could take you home.”

“OK, I guess, I’ll ask my mom.”

“Awesome,” she said, genuinely pleased with Lawrence’s apparent response to joining the club.

“I read a lot,” he volunteered. “What books you plan on reading?”

“Oh I don’t know, but Mariah wants us to start with the Traveling Pants books,” she said.

“Oh, they’re OK, I guess.”

“Maybe we’ll choose something else, since the Traveling Pants books are for girls, and if you join us, maybe we should get something else.”

“No, Stacy, that’s fine. I’ve read a couple already.”

“Really, that’s awesome.”

Lawrence smiled. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Stacy, a girl who was the most popular girl in school, was finding him “awesome.” He knew he was not a typically strong, muscular boy, which he thought most girls wanted.

“You’ll be the only boy, among five or six girls. I hope that’s OK.”

“Awesome,” he said, with an impish smile crossing his face.

Stacy may have thought that Lawrence was reacting as a hormonally charged teen boy, but in reality Lawrence was looking forward to the prospect of being accepted into the club with all girls, and, he hoped, eventually to be considered one of them.

The book club never really did develop; except for Stacy, Lawrence and one other girl, most of the girls failed to do much reading. Yet, in trying to get the club started, Lawrence and Stacy became tight friends.

In the 20-minute school bus ride, they began sharing more than their reading interests, telling much about their family life, and finding a bond in that they were often left alone. Stacy’s mother, an Air Force pilot, was stationed for three years, at the Air National Guard base located at the same major airport when Lawrence Sr. worked. She was divorced and Stacy was an only child, living exclusively with her mother. Like Lawrence, she prepared most of the meals in the house and kept it clean, since her mother’s schedule had become so demanding. Her mother was commanding officer of the unit.

“We’re both like housemaids,” Stacy said one day, immediately regretting the words in that they might embarrass Lawrence.

“Yes, we are,” he agreed. “I feel like a maid often.”

“I thought you’d be mad, me calling you a housemaid.”

“Not really, we do important work, Stacy. How else would your mom and my dad eat?”

*****
The summer between their 7th and 8th grades, Lawrence and Stacy saw each other almost every day, usually riding their bikes together toward the Lake Parkway, which had an adjacent bike path following the shore of Lake Michigan. Lawrence had taken to tying his long hair into a ponytail for the rides, and on warm days he wore shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt.

“Two guys are following us,” Stacy said on a warm, June morning. A light breeze off the lake cooled the bikers.

“Oh yeah. They look old, like in high school.”

“I know, and they maybe think I’m in high school,” she said, making silent reference to her own height and huskiness.

“Do you think they think I’m a girl, too?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said laughing.

They were biking leisurely, so they could talk, and it was apparent the two boys were catching up.

“Mom’s always after me to act more boyish, and maybe I should cut my hair, too.”

“You’re cute, Lawrence. I like you as you are.”

He smiled.

“Except I’m jealous,” she teased. “You’re so much prettier.”

He faked like he was going to punch her, but then laughed instead.

“Let’s speed up, we can lose those guys,” Stacy said, quickly picking up the pace.

Soon the two were speeding down the bike path, leaving the puzzled boys in their wake. They heard a yell: “Hey girls, we just wanted to talk.”

Hearing that got Lawrence and Stacy to begin giggling, but the two, both accomplished bikers, easily outpaced the boys, finding a secluded spot where they stopped, dropping their bikes and bursting into uncontrollable giggling.

“Hey girl,” Stacy teased Lawrence. “They were hot after you.”

“No they liked you,” he responded.

The two continued to giggle, soon got to rolling on the ground together, wrestling playfully and tickling each other. Lawrence knew he was no physical match for Stacy, and he rolled into the fetus position while she poked at him, calling him “girl.” He loved it, and kept his voice in its high giggle.

They finally ran out of breath and the two sat up on the grass in the tree lined clearing, and Lawrence found himself flicking his hair in a feminine manner as he looked at Stacy.

“I must disgust you,” he said.

“No way. You don’t,” the girl said, mystified by the comment.

“I’m not much of a boy, am I?”

“I don’t know what that means, Lawrence. You’re my friend, my best friend. I don’t care what you are.”

Lawrence didn’t respond. He was sitting with his legs folded under himself, looking down at the grass.

“Look, Lawrence. I consider you a friend. We can talk about anything. We’re not boy and girl friends. We’re friends.”

“I think you’re my best friend, too,” he said. “I never before had a friend I could be with and enjoy.”

“Besides, maybe I’m not much of a girl,” Stacy said. “I’m so fat and big.”

“You’re not fat, Stacy. You’re a very nice looking girl. Look at all the friends you have.”

“That’s because I always want to put on a ‘happy face,’ even when I wanna cry. I’m not at all petite and pretty.”

“And I go hide, because I can’t be as much a boy as my dad wants. And I don’t like being called a ‘sissy’ and those things.”

“You’re so smart, Lawrence,” Stacy said. “You’ll go far.”

“You too, Stacy.”

The two may have not understood it at the time, but their friendship was based on a solid foundation: their shared intelligence and an understanding empathy for other persons. Such a foundation would make it possible for these two very outwardly different teens to share in each other’s joys and fears, triumphs and failures, opportunities and challenges.

*****
The two became inseparable that summer, with Stacy biking over to Lawrence’s house nearly every afternoon, after she completed her own household chores.

Lawrence’s mother welcomed the teen girl’s visits, since Stacy encouraged Lawrence in getting outside and in getting more exercise. Since Stacy was participating in a summer softball league, she needed practice, and the two often would find an empty ball diamond and play catch.

She taught him how to throw a baseball with more authority, something his father had never been able to do.

“Good, Lawrence, you no longer throw like a girl,” she teased after several days of instruction.

He learned, too, how to hit a baseball, though with his weak arms, he rarely hit it hard.

Stacy continued to be superior at the physical aspects of the sport, but she made no attempt to embarrass him. With his hair still flowing long, the pair often were taken to be girls, an observation they rarely sought to change.

“Can we play with you girls?” said a voice from among a group of young teens, two of them girls and three boys, who approached them as they practiced hitting grounders to each other one day on a ball diamond.

Stacy looked at Lawrence, wondering whether he’d like that. He nodded tentatively.

“It’ll just be for fun,” said one of the boys, a blonde, crew cut slender boy said.

“Yeah,” suggested a dark-skinned boy. “How about girls against boys? One of you two girls looks really good.”

It was obvious the group had watched the two playing, and had been impressed with Stacy’s natural athletic talents. They obviously had no clue that Lawrence was a boy, and it was a logical conclusion given his slender, un-muscular frame and his flowing hair. He was wearing short shorts and a tee-shirt.

“I guess it’s OK.” Lawrence said, his voice soft and tentative.

As the teens gathered their teams together, Lawrence identified himself as “Heather,” an identification that was accepted without question. In the game that followed, the girls played the boys closely, but losing in the last inning when Lawrence, playing in the outfield dropped a fly ball, and then threw the ball poorly back to the infield. He played so badly, that he easily was the poorest player on the girls’ team.

The boys leaped for joy at the victory and ran across the field to hug the girls; one boy, who called himself Bobby, made a point of comforting Lawrence, saying, “I thought you played pretty good for a girl.”

Lawrence merely hung his head, saying nothing.

“Anybody could have dropped that fly ball,” he said, a statement that Lawrence knew was not true. Any kid his age should have made the play easily, he thought.

“Oh, I guess,” he responded.

“She doesn’t play ball often,” Stacy said, entering the conversation.

“She did pretty good,” the boy, Bobby, said.

“Would you two girls wanna come with us to the custard stand?” one of the other boys asked.

“Oh I don’t think so,” Stacy said.

“Come on, Heather,” Bobby pleaded.

“I don’t think so,” Lawrence reacted.

“Will you be here again?” he asked.

“I think so,” Stacy replied, as she and Lawrence headed off for their bikes.

*****
‘Whew,” Lawrence said, as they mounted their bikes and headed for Lawrence’s home. “I’m glad that’s over. I’m so bad at baseball.”

“You were OK,” Stacy said.

“Yeah, for a girl.” The two giggled.

They headed slowly out of the park, riding side-by-side, talking easily.

“I know, I am so sorry I dropped the ball, Stacy,” he said. “I was hoping they’d never figure out I was a boy.”

Stacy laughed. “There was little chance of it, Heather. You won the eye of Bobby. I think he wants to be your boy friend.”

“I guess he does,” Lawrence said. “That’s kind of scary.”

The pair headed onto a residential street, continuing for several blocks without speaking both a bit winded from their exertion.

“You really do make a pretty girl, Heather,” Stacy said finally as they parked their bikes at Lawrence’s house.

Dorothy Collins greeted the two youngsters eagerly, offering them lunch. Soon, the two were giggling at the kitchen table, snickering over the fact that Lawrence had fooled three other teens that he was a girl.

“What’s so funny?” his mother asked.

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on, you two aren’t giggling over nothing.

“It’s a secret, mom,” Lawrence said, growing red in the face.

“Yes, Mrs. Collins, but it’s not anything bad,” Stacy added.

They giggled a bit more, and Stacy whispered in Lawrence’s ear when his mother left the room: “You could fool any of the boys, they’re so horny.”

“I know,” he whispered back, realizing the prospect of being a girl both excited him and scared him.

“It’d be neat to flirt with him, Heather,” Stacy said again, using his adopted girl’s name.

“I guess, but what would he do when he finds out? Probably beat the crap out of me.”

“I’ll be there to protect you, girl.”

“We better forget it,” he said finally.