“It's pink!" I protested.

I glared at the outfits Joanna had left on the bed for me to try on. Some of them, like the jeans I was wearing, were actually boy’s clothes — but somehow, they fit in a way that emphasized my shape.

How could I go back to being Pete when I looked so much like Gayle?

Joanna came in the door with another armful of clothes. “Topless,” she observed. “It’s daring, but I think your days of playing skins are over.”

“Ha, ha,” I responded. “Everything I try on makes me look like a girl!”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She grinned, more like the evil Joanna that I was used to rather than the helpful friend she seemed to be becoming.

I glared at her on general principles. “None of the bras you’ve got fit me without some padding, and I don’t…I’m not going to….”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed my blathering. “The problem is you’ve got a bigger ribcage than me. So you need a bigger band size and a smaller cup. But you’re pretty much a full B now, so you do need some support.” She pulled something out of the pile of clothes she carried. “I found a stretchy one-size bra I must have bought when I left my brain at home one day. Try it.”

“It’s pink!” I protested.

“Rose, actually, but you’re not going to show Lee your bra, are you?” She flashed that grin again.

“How do I put it on? There are no snaps.”

“Pull it on like a t-shirt,” she instructed.

I tried that. It fit well enough — not tight, but firmly.

“That ought to prevent any untoward jiggling,” she noted.

I bounced on my heels experimentally, and she giggled.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“That’s a funny word,” I observed, searching through her assortment of tops. Most of them plainly girls’ clothes. I sighed.

“What’s a funny word? Jiggling?”

“No. ‘Untoward?’ It sounds like it means away from, but away from what?”

“I dunno?” She admitted. “Away from your bottom?”

I would have frowned at her, but my face still hurt from the elbow I had collected in last night’s scrimmage. “I hope Lee won’t be looking at my ass,” I protested.

“He’d be a fool not to,” she said.

“What?” I began but stopped when I recalled all the shots Lee had taken of me running downfield.

“You’re blushing,” Joanna observed. “Lee’s already noticed your round little bottom, hasn’t he?”

I didn’t answer, saying instead, “I need a top that will be thick enough not to show any straps.”

“Try this,” she suggested. “It’s like a t-shirt made of sweater material. Off-white, so it’ll go good with denim.”

* * *

Joanna offered her expensive rancher’s coat of leather and lamb’s wool, but I settled on my own denim jacket as better completing my look. I stared at my reflection a bit sourly, though. Re-combing my hair hadn’t completely solved the hairstyle problem.

“I still look like a girl,” I complained.

Joanna shrugged. “It’s about as butch as it gets without going cartoony. Face it, Petey-Gayle, you’re a very cute girl, and it’s hard to hide that.”

“My hair,” I began, but she cut me off.

“We could shave your head like that girl who’s going to be in the Star Trek movie,” she suggested.

I hadn’t heard of this, so she had to show me a picture in one of her movie magazines: a lovely woman with her head shaved bald who didn’t look at all like a guy. “I’m not that pretty,” I protested.

“Well, she doesn’t have a black eye,” Joanna conceded. “But pretty much, you’ve got classic good features, smooth skin, beautiful eyes. Well, one at least.”

I blinked at my reflection. “I don’t look much like a football player,” I said.

This struck Joanna as funny, and she laughed. “You look exactly like the girl who plays football because you’re the only one, and you look like you!”

“Ow,” I said after trying to roll my eyes. I put a hand to my face. “Maybe an eyepatch?”

Joanna laughed again. “You’re not the first girl who’s ever had to cover up a shiner to go on a date.”

Why would other girls have black eyes? Girls didn’t usually get in fights. I shook my head at that. “It’s not really a date,” I began.

She shut me down. “He’s buying the movie tickets. It’s a date.”

Logic from a cheerleader, but I didn’t try to roll my eyes again.

She pointed at the little bench in front of the room’s vanity. “Sit there so you’ll be able to see what I’m doing. You’ll probably have to do it yourself tomorrow for school.”

“Where? I don’t have any makeup at home or place to put it on!”

She pointed again. “Sit!”

I grunted rebelliously but sat and let her start applying makeup.

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