A Boy Called Brook: Summer 2 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schuman   A growing relationship, a trip with friends, and a sleepover. Lots of firsts for Brook.

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Author's Note: I would like to thank all of you for the warm welcome here at bigcloset. To be honest, the layout and format of posting here had me kind of put off for a long time (seriously), but Sephrena was kind enough to assist me with my posting (she created the layout). I am still a newbie at this html stuff!
Please, let me know what you think about my story, both good and bad. I honestly read my reviews and am always willing to learn! ~Clara.
 
 
Summer 2
 

The next morning I woke to the sound of my father in the shower. That was unusual. I was usually awake well ahead of him and out in the kitchen well before he came out of his room.

"Damnit," I muttered and jumped out of bed. I slipped on a pair of Dollar Store flip flops I wore as slippers in the summer and I was just about to hurry down the hall when I spotted the pile of soiled tissues on my nightstand. It would definitely not due to have my dad see all that! So, I grabbed them and hustled down the hallway, passing the bathroom, just as the shower shut off and I heard dad push the shower curtain aside.

I dumped the tissues in the wastebasket and grabbed a frying pan, sprayed a little olive oil into it and put it onto a burner, then pulled the bacon out of the fridge. I knew dad would have at least a little bit of a hangover, so I wanted to give him a good breakfast to try to give him something to kick off his day.

The bacon went into the pan and the bread into the toaster and the eggs came out of the fridge along with the tomato juice and the hot sauce. I turned on the coffee maker and put a K-cup in, grabbed his travel mug while the coffee maker warmed up, then put the travel mug under the spigot and pushed the 'brew' button.

I poured the tomato juice, added two dashes of hot sauce and put it where dad would see it. I grabbed the tongs, flipped the bacon and got the butter out just as the toaster popped and I spread the butter nice and thin so it melted quickly, placing the buttered sides of the toast towards each other before slicing them diagonally, the way dad liked. The bacon was set on paper towels to blot, while the excess grease was poured into a small bowl to cool, the frying pan was lightly wiped and then I fried up two eggs, over easy, just the way dad liked.

I put in a second K-cup and pressed 'brew' again so he'd have enough black coffee for breakfast, his commute and for part of his morning at the lumber yard.

The eggs hit the plate as the bathroom door opened and the nicely plated breakfast was placed on the table along with the spiced tomato juice and coffee just as he arrived.

"Good morning, dad," I said. "I thought you could use a big breakfast this morning. Also, I have some chicken cordon bleu and rice from last night. I put some in a bag for you to take with you for lunch today."

He looked at me, took special note of my hair and shook his head. "So, it wasn't a dream. You really have become a faggot, haven't you?"

I rolled my eyes and sat down at the table just after he did. He drank the tomato juice down in one big gulp, then let out a big 'ahh.' He blinked at the hot sauce's impact.
"What are you doing today?" He asked, not looking up from his breakfast.

I shrugged. "I'm doing the laundry this morning, so if there's anything you want me to throw in it that's not in the hamper, let me know."

He nodded and swallowed what he was chewing. "The clothes I was wearing last night are on the floor in my bedroom."

I just nodded. Of course they were. Where else would they be?

"After that?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Brooke is coming over later..."

"Be careful of her," my father interrupted. "You're obviously smitten with this girl..."

"Just like you are with her mother..."

I was only teasing and under normal circumstances, my dad would have just laughed at that, but like I said, when he was hung over...

He didn't interrupt me with words. He interrupted me with a hard slap of his right hand across my left cheek. Something he'd never done before. Heck, he'd only ever spanked me two or three times in my whole life.

"You watch yourself, little girl," he said, in a very menacing voice. "What goes on between Pat and me is none of your business. What goes on between you and that girl is entirely my business, you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," I said, quietly, rubbing my cheek.

"Look at you. Three hours after you met her she had you looking like her little sister. That's not how a man behaves, Brook. You understand me?" His finger was waggling in my face.

"Yes, sir."

"Men don't have hair nearly to their waist. Men don't let girls 'do their hair' for them. Men don't wear pretty, yellow hair ties to hold back their dainty pony tails. Men don't spend their days learning to cook and becoming good housekeepers and..."

I couldn't keep my mouth shut at that moment. I worked hard to keep our house clean and serve healthy and tasty food for us every night. "Dad, someone has to take care of the house and I would think that you might appreciate the work that I do..."

I stopped because he slammed his hand down on the table top and I was afraid that he might take another swipe at my face. "That's enough!" He shouted. "Last night you acted like a little fairy with that girl! It was embarrassing. You'd better learn how to start acting like a man pretty damned soon, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," I said, shying away a bit and hoping to avoid another slap.

He returned his attention to his breakfast. "Now, I'll let you play tea party with your little girlfriend for now, but you watch yourself. I know that you'll do anything she'll tell you. I don't want to come home and find you giving some football player a blowjob in my living room. Are you listening to me."

I looked at him, not believing what he just said to me.

"I asked you a question," he said, raising his hand as if to hit me again.

"Come on, dad," I said, probably sounding like a beaten puppy. "I never... I wouldn't... that's not even something that could ever happen. I swear."

He looked at me and considered me for a moment or two. Then he nodded and returned to his breakfast. "See that it doesn't." He finished his toast and put the last piece of bacon in his mouth, then stood before he'd even closed his lips. "Well... I have to go." He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed the lunch I'd prepared for him. "I'll be home around five, five thirty. I might have Pat and the girls over again. I'll let you know."

"I'll need some groceries..."

He seemed irritated by that. He pulled five twenty dollar bills out of his wallet and tossed them on the table. "You can ride your bike over to Winslows and get what you need."

"Dad," I tried to reason with him, "I can't get good meat at Winslows. They're just a convenience store. Can't I go with you and take the car so I can go to the supermarket..."

"Jesus Christ, Brook," he shouted, "you're worse than your mother ever was. No car. Use your bike. Go to Winslows. You're the freaking chef. Make it work. I have to go earn some money by doing some real work. Some men's work. Not cooking and cleaning like a some housewife. Now, leave me alone. My head is killing me."

He grabbed his travel mug, pulled a bottle of aspirin out of the cabinet, put them in his pocket and stormed out the door, leaving me sitting there with dirty dishes, an achy face and an achy heart. I hated days that started like this. There weren't a lot of them, but when they happened, they were tough. I knew that later that day he'd come home and regret having been such an asshole all morning - he always did - but I always kind of felt like these mornings showed me more of his true feelings towards me than all the regular mornings we shared when he laughed and patted my back and called me Chef.

That morning had brought a couple of firsts in our relationship, though.

It was the first time he'd ever called me a faggot or a fairy. That day he'd called me both.

And it was the first time he'd ever slapped me across my face.

I didn't like any of those things.

I sat at the table and considered those new additions to my home life for a few minutes and then a few minutes more and then an hour or more had passed and I still hadn't moved and I still didn't know how to deal with the situation. He was my father. I was eighteen. I had no money. I had no where else to go. There was nothing to be said. There was nothing to be done.

So I got up and I washed and dried his breakfast dishes, then put the laundry into the washer and made myself some toast and tea and sat at the table and watched an episode of my favorite anime on my phone.

"Good morning!" a very cheery voice woke me from my anime trance.

I looked up and saw Brooke standing in my kitchen, looking just as beautiful as yesterday. Her light brown hair shining, makeup minimal, but perfect, a tight fitting, lavender tank top and tight white shorts, but as gorgeous as her body was, it was that bright, white smile that hit me the hardest and when that smile faded as she looked at me, I felt like I just wanted to fade into the woodwork and disappear completely.

"What happened to you?" She asked, suddenly serious.

I shook myself back to reality. "Oh... I'm sorry. I completely lost track of... I haven't even showered yet." I listened for a moment and heard the washer was still running, so I looked at the clock. "Umm... the laundry will be done in a few minutes." I stood with my tea cup and plate and headed to the sink. "As soon as it stops, I should be able to shower. I usually wait a while for the hot water to build up, but it'll be..."

Brooke grabbed my arms and spun my to face her. "What happened to your face?" Her voice was a mix of concern and anger.

I touched the place where my father had slapped me. "Oh... I... I... probably slept on it funny or something." I tried to move on to the sink, but Brooke stopped me and then touched my face. It's funny... well, odd, really... the previous day, when Brooke touched me, her touch was cool and electric. That morning, though, when she touched my face where I'd been slapped... it was hot... and shameful... and I couldn't look her in the eye.

"Does your pillow have five fingers?" she asked quietly.

I didn't answer and I still didn't look at her.

"Your dad hit you?"

I shrugged.

"Because of me?"

I shook my head.

"Because of what I did to your hair?"

I shook my head.

"Why, then?"

I sighed. "Because he was still a little drunk and he was a really hungover and he was really grouchy and..." finally I looked at her, but only out of the side of my eyes. "... because you guys just moved in next door and he really likes your mom and he knows that, even though she might think he's handsome right now, she's never going to get serious about a guy who works long hours at a lumber yard and makes the kind of money my father makes. So... I said something he didn't like so he took it out on me. That's all. End of story. Nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with me."

Brooke took out her phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a little scared.

"Calling the police. Your father attacked you, Brook. He has no right to do that. He thinks he was in a bad mood this morning, well, wait till the police visit him at work and have some words with him. He'll be real happy then!"

"No, no, no!" I said in a panic, grabbing her phone. "No, Brooke, you can't do that!"

"Why? He hit you. That's against the law."

"He's my father, Brooke. It's not against the law for a father to give his son a slap."

She looked shocked that I'd say that. "Of course it is! How often does he hit you!?"

"Never..." I said, trying to calm things down. "...well... that was the first time. I mean... he chocked me a few times back when he was drinking a lot... back when my mom left... but he doesn't drink that much any more. Last night was the first time in a long time and since it was... you know... happy drinking... I thought that he might be a little nicer this morning than he was."

"But he wasn't?"

I shook my head. "No. He was pretty bad." I shrugged my shoulders and heard the rinse cycle of the washer come to an end. "Hey, the laundry is done. I'll put the load in the dryer and take a shower."

She took my cup and plate from me. "Just sit for a minute, Brook. I'll wash the dishes."

"I..." I wanted to sit, but I couldn't do it without dealing with the laundry first. It just wasn't in my nature. "I'll be right back. I just need to put the clothes in the dryer."

When I got back to the dinning room, Brooke was waiting for me. She had me sit and she looked at me with pity in her eyes and... I kind of hated it.

"Can I ask you a couple of questions?" she said.

"Sure," I said, and then trying to lighten the mood, I added, "That was your first one."

She gave me a little smile for my effort, but that was all. "Are you happy?"

I shrugged. "I don't know." But that was a lie. I decided to tell the truth. "Not really, I guess, but... I like..." I stopped when I realized how stupid what I was about to say would sound. "... never mind."

"No. Tell me. I want to get to know you so I can be a good friend. 'But' what?"

I could feel my face redden as I prepared to speak. "But... well... I do like cooking. That makes me kinda happy... and... I was happy when I spent time with you yesterday. That really made me happy."

Her little smile got a little bigger, but only a little, and she reached over and put her hand on top of mine. "It made me happy, too, Brook. You're a unique person... unlike anyone I've ever met before... and I like that about you. But let me ask you this - before yesterday, and putting cooking aside, why aren't you happy?"

I shrugged. "I don't know... because I'm always alone... because I always feel stupid... pretty much no matter where I am... at school... and when I talk to my dad... and... because I'm... ugly..."

"Ugly!?" Brooke really perked up on that word. "Who ever told you you were ugly?"

"Brooke, come on. I'm eighteen years old and I'm five foot three inches tall. I weigh a hundred and fifteen ponds. No one is ever going to find me attractive."

"You're not tall, so what!? That doesn't make you ugly! Geez, my dad took me to see this old rock band called AC/DC last year and the guitar player was probably no taller than you and WAS ugly and people were acting like he was a god! That actor from Game of Thrones - you know who I mean, he's in Elf, too - is shorter than you and he's really handsome. Brook, you are definite not ugly. You may not be CLASSICALLY handsome, but you are a good looking person. I'd go so far as to classify you as a kind of a pretty guy. You know - like Justin Bieber was when he was younger. Or those boys in BTS. Girls go crazy for pretty guys."

I smirked at her. "Yeah, sure. What difference does it make. I don't meet anyone who doesn't already think of me as a loser, anyway. Everyone at school already sees me that way, then I come back here and I'm just my father's housekeeper. All I do is cook and clean. By the way, he's calling your mom later to invite all of you guys over for dinner again. He gave me some money to go to the convenience store on my bike and magically turn crappy frozen meat into a good meal. He wouldn't let me drop him off and take the car so I could go to one of the supermarkets in one of the bigger towns." I shook my head. "I'm just supposed to magically make a meal out of nothing, I guess. That's how foul his mood was this morning."

She shook her head. "I'll drive you wherever you need to go. Ok?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. What if he gets made that I went someplace he didn't want me to go..."

"I'll have my mom smooth everything out. Don't worry. I can handle her and she can handle him. Ok?"

I smiled. I figured she probably could handle her mom pretty darned well, actually. "Can I go shower, now?"

"Ok, but let's put your hair up so it doesn't get body soap in it." She said, leading me into the kitchen.

"How?" I asked. "I don't have any hair pins or anything like that."

"You have this," she laughed, "grabbing a bag of potato chips with a big yellow clip on the top.

She turned me around, twisted my ponytail a few times as she piled it on top of my head, then clamped the Chip Clip to the mass of hair she'd created.

She turned me to face her, a big smile on her face. "See, there's always a solution to every problem. And just so you know, you would look adorable with an updo. Heck, I could glue some glitter to that yellow clip and you could go to prom with your hair just like that."

"And my dad would be so proud," I joked, and started to walk away, but she stopped me and looked straight into my eyes.

"Frankly, I don't give a fuck what your dad thinks about anything, right now."

I was more than a little shocked she'd dropped an F-bomb so casually, but then she touched my face again, and this time... I didn't feel the shame. I just felt her tenderness. And then... she leaned forward... and she kissed my cheek. It was a soft, tender, chaste kiss, but it nearly made my knees buckle.

"There," she smiled at me. "Maybe that will help."

I couldn't even think, let alone move, for the next few moments, until she turned me towards the hallway and gave my bottom a soft Pat. "Go on, now. Take a shower, and don't get that hair too wet. We'll deal with that out here at the sink."

I was in and out of the shower in record time, mostly because all I wanted to do was get back to being with Brooke. After the miserable start to the day, I wanted to get back to her sweet nature and soft touch, even if that touch was just going to be because she was going to be giving me a lesson in how to wash and condition my hair. I didn't care, at least she'd be touching me.

As she dug her fingernails mercilessly into my scalp, she explained how important it was to wash all the way down to the skin of my scalp and that the way my hair looked was a reflection of how clean it was.

After three rounds of shampooing, a goodly amount of conditioner was put in and I was allowed to sit and wait ten minutes while the conditioner did its thing.

"Alright," Brooke said, wiping her hands on a towel, "tomorrow... What are your plans?"

"Well," I said, feeling a bit foolish with one towel over my shoulders and another twisted into a turban on my head, "it's Tuesday, so I plan on doing the dusting and vacuuming in the morning - very exciting, I know - then I might mow the lawn, if it needs it. Why?"

Brooke shook her head. "The house can go a week without dusting and I will help you vacuum today. Tomorrow, my sisters and I are planning on taking a ride to York Beach, and you're coming with us."

"York Beach?" I asked. "Where's that? In New York?"

"What?" She laughed. "No. It's in Maine. York, Maine."

"Maine!? Isn't that like six of eight hours away?"

Brooke looked at me like I was an idiot. "No. It's like an hour an a half from here - at least York is. My dad lives there, now. Maine is huge. I'm sure there are parts that are six or eight hours away, but York is just over the border from New Hampshire. I took Melissa there a couple of weeks ago on a whim just to get her a lobster roll for her birthday. You've never been there?"

"Nope. I've never been to New Hampshire, either. Actually, I don't remember ever going to any beach. There's a picture in an album of me and my mom at a pond in a State Park when I was a baby, but I think that might be the only time."

"Wait a minute." Brooke looked at me with a weird look. "Are you telling me that you live in the middle of Massachusetts, a fairly small state, and you've never been to a beach on the ocean?"

"Nope. I've never even seen the ocean," I said with a shrug.

"Oh my God!" She shouted. "Brook, how is that possible!? You've never seen the ocean? You've never smelled the ocean? You've never been swimming in the ocean? Brook, it's less than an hour from here to the ocean! Cape Cod is only a little further than that! People come from all over the world to go there! And you've never been?"

"Nope," I shook my head.

"Well, tomorrow you're going to Maine to see the ocean for the first time."

"I'll ask, Brooke, but I don't know what my dad will say. He's not a very pro-vacation kind of person."

Brooke shook her head. "A day trip is NOT a vacation. I'll have my mom talk to him. You're going. This is ridiculous." She started unwrapping my hair and then said, "You do have a bathing suit, don't you?"

"No," I half laughed. "Why would I have a bathing suit?"

She shook her head. "Ok. After dinner, we can go to Walmart and get you one."

"You know what," I said, suddenly embarrassed, "maybe I shouldn't go. I have a lot to do here."

"What!? Of course you're going." Then she realized I was embarrassed about something. "Is something wrong? What's the matter?"

I sighed. "Look, Brooke, I just don't have much money. Yesterday, I spent almost sixty dollars on all this hair stuff. That's was pretty much all I had. I can't afford to buy a bathing suit. I can't afford to go away with you and pay for food or anything like that. I really do appreciate the invitation, but... I... I'll just stay here. Ok?"

"Come on. I'll take care of your food. We won't eat too fancy. If you don't have a bathing suit, you can just wear a pair of shorts." She smiled, very happy to have reasoned everything out.

"No, that's ok," I said. "Just... go without me."

"Oh, come on." She stamped her foot. "I don't want to go without you. What now?"

I was really embarrassed, now. "I... I only have these jeans and my sleep shorts and my sleep shorts have a big hole in the crotch. I can't wear those out in public and I'd look pretty stupid on a beach in jeans. Look... things like beaches and stuff... those aren't for people like me. People like me... we just do chores and stay home while other people have fun. You go ahead. It's ok."

"Oh, aren't you a wonderful martyr," she shook her head. "What size waist do you have?"

A little confused, I said, "I don't know. Twenty two or twenty four I guess."

"Perfect. That's the same as Elena. You can wear a pair of her shorts."

"I CAN'T WEAR YOUR LITTLE SISTER'S SHORTS!" I said shocked.

"Of course, you can. Shorts are shorts. They are sexless. No one will be able to tell."

"Look at your shorts, Brooke," I pointed out. "Those don't look like boys shorts."

"And they don't look like Elena's shorts, either. She's still a kid. I'll find you a pair that will fit perfectly. Trust me."

"Ok," I finally gave in, mostly because I really wanted to go, "but don't embarrass me, ok?"

"Have I ever embarrassed you?" She smiled.

"Asks the girl who put my hair in a ponytail that looked like a girl's ponytail last night."

"Oh, that's ridiculous. A pointy tail is a pony tail and you looked lovely."

"I looked lovely. I rest my case."

She laughed a little. "Ok, I get it, but I'll find you something that looks right. Ok?"

"Ok."

Once my hair was rinsed again, it was sprayed with detangler and Brooke brushed and combed and brushed it again then I took the laundry out of the dryer and folded it. I put it all away in either my room or my dad's and then we went outside into the sunshine, where, Brooke assured me, my hair would dry quicker.

She was right, and about an hour later, all dried, my hair received one more brushing and was once again pulled into a ponytail.

"Hey, guess what," Brooke laughed, looking at her phone when her text tone chimed. "We're all coming to your house for dinner tonight."

"Oh, what a surprise," I laughed.

"Come on. I'll take you to the supermarket, if you want."

"Actually," I said, "do you think we could go to the farmer's co-op? The meat is fresher and so are the vegetables and it's a little cheaper, too."

"Sure. Just guide me."

We got what we needed and we spent the afternoon getting everything ready for dinner. I baked some nice buns and made spice cake cupcakes for dessert. Brooke frosted them, not particularly nicely, to be honest, but I don't think anyone cared, anyway, as long as they tasted good.

So, by five thirty, when my dad got home, all the Kerrs were there and I was ready to put a platter of steaks, a basket of buns, a big bowl of mashed potatoes and a platter of corn on the cob on the table.

"Well, everything smells great!" my dad said as he came in. "How's it going, Chef? Anything I can help with?" He was smiling and just as gregarious as always.

"No," I said, as politely as possible. We did have guests, after all. "Everything's ready."

"Alright then," he smiled at everyone. "Ladies, why don't you all take a seat and Chef and I will bring everything in."

When the Kerrs had vacated the kitchen, my father spoke quietly. "Hey... Chef... I guess I was a little rough on you this morning, huh?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

He nodded. "Yeah... well... I'm sorry, but... well, you know how it is when you're hungover."

"Actually, I don't."

"Yeah, well... but you know what I mean. Look... buddy... you know how I feel about you, right? Anyway... we're ok, right?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just handed him the potatoes and corn and said, "We have guests, dad. Here."

He nodded, assuming all was forgiven. "Ok." He winked at me. "Everything smells great, Chef."

Dinner was really good, if I do say so myself. Most of the conversation revolved around Mrs Kerr's work to get everything set up at the house. Her ex-husband's brother had come over to help that afternoon and he had hung pictures and mirrors, assembled an entertainment, center, moved some shelving around... stuff like that... stuff my dad assured her he could do for her as well.

Mrs Kerr assured dad that she knew that. "Mark just wants to stay connected to the girls, though. He keeps telling them that divorce isn't the end of family, just a new phase. He's a nice guy. You'd like him."

Something about my dad's body language indicated that he disagreed.

As the meal was coming to an end, Brooke gave me a gentle nudge under the table and then looked at me, raising her eyebrows as if to say, 'Ask him.'

So, I mustered my courage and I cleared my throat. "Ummm... dad... Brooke and the girls... ummm... they're going to the beach tomorrow and... ummm... Brooke invited me to go with them. Do you think it'd be ok if I did? You know... go with them?"

"The beach, huh?" my dad said, as if I was talking about a trip to Europe or something. "What beach are we talking about here?"

"York Beach, Mr Chapin," Brooke jumped in. "It's an hour and a half up and an hour and a half back."

My father rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Gee, I don't know, Chef. I mean... do you even own a pair of trunks?"

"He doesn't have to go swimming, Mr Chapin. We're just going to hang out on the beach and enjoy the sunshine. Maybe have some fish and chips and come home. No big deal." Brooke had suddenly become my lawyer in this matter.

My dad huffed a bit as he thought.

"Oh, let the boy go, Vic," Mrs Kerr said with a big smile. "He could use a day away and it'll be nice for Brooke to have a friend with her. Otherwise she's just babysitting. Besides, my ex has a condo up there, just off the beach. If they have any problems, the girls' dad is right there to help them."

My dad looked at me with a smile that told the Kerrs that he was a friendly guy, but told me that I had put him on the spot and he wasn't any too pleased about it. "Well, I guess that, under the circumstances I will say 'yes,' but in the future, Chef, I would appreciate a little more lead time when you plan on changing our daily schedule, ok?"

I nodded. "Ok, dad. Sorry."

Brooke smiled. "Thank you, Mr Chapin. We'll be leaving around seven thirty tomorrow morning and we'll get home around nine tomorrow night. Is that ok?"

"I guess it'll have to be," Dad smiled.

"Well, I'll tell you what," Mrs Kerr smiled. "For being such a good sport, and for feeding me and the girls last night and tonight, I'll take you out to dinner tomorrow. How's that sound."

"Now, that sounds like a deal!" My father finally sounded happy.

Brooke stayed with me to help with the dishes and act as a buffer between me and my dad, and it kind of worked. By the time she left, he had been watching a ball game on TV for a while and had mellowed out a bit. So, when I said 'goodnight,' he didn't go crazy, he just waved me over to his recliner and said. "That wasn't very cool, Chef. I don't appreciate being put on the spot like that in front of others - especially Pat. You get me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. It's just that Brooke just asked me today and I haven't had a chance to talk to you since..."

He held up his hand to stop me. "I asked you - You got me?"

"Yes, sir. I do."

"Ok. Then I don't expect to have to have this conversation again. Now... about your hair."

"My hair?"

"Yes," he stopped to watch a play on the TV. He shook his head in disgust at the stupidity of the multimillionaires playing baseball on TV. Then, he looked back at me. "You look like a girl like that. Unless that's what you're going for, you need to knock all this girly crap off. Now, I know that Brooke is a hottie, hell, I'd jump her if I was a few years younger, but don't let her cut your balls off on you. You're already in 'The Friend Zone.' If you're not careful, you'll be nothing more than a girlfriend to her."

I shrugged. "Dad... a girl as pretty as Brooke isn't ever going to be interested in dating me..."

"That's probably true," he snickered.

"...but I like my hair long. I'm not going to cut it."

"I didn't say to cut it," he said, focusing on the TV screen, "just stop wearing it like a cheerleader. Now, let me watch my game."

I shook my head. "Ok. Goodnight, dad."

"Yeah," was all he said.

The next morning, I got dad off to work without any confrontations. He was actually in a really good mood because of his upcoming date that night with Mrs Kerr. He even gave me ten dollars to get something to eat on my day trip. Obviously, that wasn't enough to buy a meal, but it was a nice gesture.

At seven, Brooke sent me a text to come over and try on some shorts. So, I locked up the house and headed out for my big adventure to Maine!

My first real day trip.

My first trip with friends.

It was a really big day for me and I was pretty darned excited about it.

I showed up at the Kerr's house in my jeans and my best Pikachu tee shirt, the one that's just yellow, but has the big Pikachu eyes, the red circles on Pikachu's cheeks and the big Pikachu smile. Mrs Kerr met me at the door with a big smile and said, "Good morning, Brook. You look nice. The girls are upstairs. Go ahead up."

"Thank you, Mrs Kerr," I smiled.

"Girls!" she yelled up the stairs, "Brook is on his way up!"

"Ok!" Three voices called down.

"Hey!" Brooke said, meeting me in the hallway wearing a one piece bathing suit that made her already perfect body look even more amazing. "Come on in." She grabbed my hand and led me into her room where she had three pairs of shorts laid out on her bed. "So - I went through Elena's shorts and she didn't have as many as I thought. There may be some more in the garage, but I have these for today, anyway. What do you think?"

I looked at the shorts and there was only one pair I was going to wear; the jeans shorts. The others were elastic waist, cotton shorts that were really short.

"I'll wear the jean shorts," I said.

"I figured as much," Brooke laughed, "but I wanted to give you some options." She picked up the shorts and handed them to me. Then she picked up her own, tiny shorts and pulled them on over her swim suit. She turned and looked at me, confused. "Aren't you going to put them on?"

I looked around. "Here? In front of you?"

"No. Here while I put on my own clothes. I won't be watching you." She seemed amused. You have on boxers or briefs or something, right?"

"Briefs, yeah."

"Then get changed," she laughed.

She turned her back again and started pulling on a top, so I hurried to pull off my jeans. I had just pulled them off and was just putting my right leg into the shorts when Elena walked into the room.

"Brooke, can you put this shirt into the travel bag for me. Oh, hi Brook. Do my shorts fit?" She asked, as casually as could be.

Brooke took the shirt from her sister and placed it onto a tote bag.

I pulled the shorts on as quickly as I could, embarrassed that a kid had seen me half undressed, and buttoned the waist and zipped them up as quickly as I could.

"Kind of, I guess," I said. "Is this how they're supposed to fit?" They weren't really tight, but they kind of hugged my legs a bit and they went down to just above my knees. They also had cuffs at the bottom, which was something I'd never seen before.

"Yeah. They fit nice," Elena said. "Don't you think, Brooke?"

"Perfect!" Brooke smiled. "They're kind of long for the summer, though. Those are really designed for fall. Are you sure you don't want to wear a lighter pair?"

"Nope," I shook my head. "These are great." I took my wallet out of my jeans and went to put it into the pocket of Elena's shorts, but... "Hey... there are no pockets on these."

"Nope," Brooke laughed. "Lots of girls' clothes don't have pockets. I'll put your wallet in the tote bag we're bringing." She held out her hand and I handed over my wallet which contained my license, the ten dollars my dad gave me, thirteen dollars of my own and my school ID.

Brooke went to her dresser and grabbed something, then looked at both Elena and me and said, "Ok, you two, turn around." Then she shouted down the hall, "Mel! Come on! Time to do your hair!"

Suddenly, Brooke was brushing Elena’s hair and asking her how she wanted it for the day.

"I think just a ponytail for the beach, thanks," Elena said, looking forward as if this was a daily event. "Maybe, after the beach, I’ll wear it down, but I don’t want it blowing in my face"

"Ok," Brooke, said as she brushed, then wound a hair tie into Elena’s hair.

Meanwhile, Melissa ran into the room and stood on the other side of me, wearing nearly the same tee shirt that I was wearing. Her Pikachu shirt had the outline of the character’s face, though. She looked at me and laughed. "Hey look – twins!"

"Ponytail?" Brooke asked me.

"I guess," I responded, confused.

My hair was brushed and the ponytail was installed and my shoulder was tapped to indicate I was done.

"How do you want it?" Brooke asked Melissa.

"I was going to wear it down," Melissa responded, "but I definitely want it like Brook’s, though. We need to look like twins."

Brooke looked at me and smiled as if that was the cutest think she’d ever heard. I thought less of it than she did, of course.

It wasn’t long before we were off on our adventure! I was thrilled to be seeing something new. Of course, Highway is Highway, so the first hour was pretty much the same old view with just a few old mills as we passed through some cities up north, but I was excited to see the sign that said we were entering New Hampshire. It was the first time I’d ever left Massachusetts.

Then, just a few minutes later, it saw the sign that said that ‘Welcome To Maine, The Way Life Should Be.’

"Wow, is New Hampshire really that small?" I asked astounded.

That made all the sisters laugh. "Only on the coastline," Brooke laughed. "It goes all the way up to Canada in its interior.

Then we went over a bridge and Brooke told me to open my window and I smelled salt air for the first time and it was amazing! It was so fresh and full of life!

"Wait till we get to the beach," Elena laughed from the seat behind me. "It smells so much better there."

And boy was she right!

When we pulled up to the parking space on the side of the road right next to the beach, the first thing that hit me was the size of the view. I’d never seen anything like it before! The ocean just went on forever. It wasn’t even framed by anything. There was just the dark colored sand and then the water until the sky took over. It was so big that I just sat in Brooke’s Jeep and stared out the window for a long time while they all got ready to go down to the sand.

Finally, Brooke knocked on the window and told me to come with them.

I opened the door and the ocean breeze hit me in the face, salty and a little sticky. It was amazing! Like nothing else I’d ever felt. I inhaled it and tasted the ocean and understood immediately why people loved to come to places like this. I was already in love with the seashore and I hadn’t even walked onto the beach yet.

We walked down onto the sand, which was a lot harder and more compact than I expected, but I later learned that’s just a peculiarity of Maine beaches. We laid out some blankets and we sat down and just enjoyed the sun and the feeling of being young and free and in the beauty of the seaside.

It was glorious and I felt, maybe for the fist time, like I was part of a group. The Kerr sisters treated me like one of their own. I sat with them. I chatted with them. I walked the shoreline with them, both as a group and with each of them individually. Melissa wanted to show me a particularly interesting area where there were crabs, so I walked over there with her. Elena wanted to show me a place where we could climb up on the rocks and feel the ocean spray, so I climbed there with her.

And then I walked the entire length and breadth of the beach with Brooke. She in her amazing swim suit and me in my Pikachu Tee shirt and Elena’s shorts. As we walked, she took my hand and it was different than it had been before. Now, she wasn’t leading me or acting like I was a child. Now, she was holding my hand affectionately. Like we were growing closer the longer we spent together. At one point, as we sat on the beach, she even put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to her. The feel of her embrace, even in this public place, was the most wonderful thing I’d ever felt in my life. Maybe I was imagining things, but I thought that we were starting to connect with each other in a really substantial way. Like... in a kind of... I like you and you like me... kind of way. It was kind of great and very exciting.

We had lunch on the beach, just some pizza from a place across the street, then we enjoyed the beach for a few more hours. We waded up to our knees in the cold water, but never got too wet, until just before we were about to leave. We were near a break water, looking at some things growing on the rocks when a huge wave came up from behind us and completely soaked us. Man, that water was cold, but we just laughed about it as we walked back out onto the beach.

Not long after, we left and went to say ‘hi’ to the girl’s father at his condo, which was really close by. It overlooked the beach from one view and could see this famous lighthouse out another.

"Hey, girls!" He said as we entered. "I’m glad you came by now. I was just about to leave and I wanted to at least get to say hi." He kissed each daughter as they entered.

"Where are you off to, daddy?" Melissa asked.

"Vancouver," he smiled. "You know how it is. Work, work work. And who is this?"

"Oh, this is Brook, our new neighbor," Elena introduced me.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I said, extending my hand.

"Another Brooke! What a coincidence! Welcome," he said and shook my hand very gently.

"Look, girls, I’m really sorry, but I really have to run. I have to catch a plane. You know where everything is. Stay as long as you like, but just lock up when you leave." He reached into his wallet and pulled out some money and handed it to Brooke. "Here, baby. Take your sisters and your friend to The Weathervane for supper on me, ok? I love you all." He kissed them all again and gave me a Pat on the back. "Bye girls." He said and he disappeared.

"Bye daddy!" they all shouted as the door closed.

"That was abrupt," I laughed.

"That’s daddy," Brooke laughed.

"Did he give you money for The Weathervane!?" Melissa asked, excited.

"He did," Brooke smiled.

"Cool!" both Melissa and Elena shouted.

"Yeah, well, that means dry clothes, so get changed," Brooke told them, holding out the tote bag she’d brought from home. The two girls grabbed the bag and ran upstairs.

"What’s The Weathervane?" I asked.

Brooke laughed. "It’s kind of a kind of touristy, mostly fried food place on the way back that daddy has taken us to ever since we were little. It’s not that great, but it’s always been his big treat. It’s not dressy or anything, but you’ll need dry clothes."

I looked at Brooke like she had two heads. "I don’t have dry clothes."

"Did you put your jeans in the tote bag?"

I shook my head. "No. I didn’t know I was supposed to."

"Ok. Don’t panic. We’ll find something."

She walked to the foot of the stairs and called up. "El, do you have any extra clothes here?"

"A few. Not many. Why?"

"Can you see if you have anything for Brook to wear?"

‘Sure."

"Nothing too girly, ok?"

"Ok!"

Brooke smiled at me. "We’ll find something."

And they did.

After Brooke got changed, she called me upstairs to the guest room, which was referred to as ‘the girls’ room. It had three beds and a huge bureau in it. "Ok. It’s not ideal, but no one’s going to know you and you’ll look fine, so just relax and see how you look after we get it on you."

I sighed. "It’s not something crazy girly, is it?"

"No. It’s shorts and a nice top. Take off your wet shirt and shorts."

I turned my back and pulled down the wet shorts, then stepped out of them, then took off my tee shirt. I jumped a little and let out a surprised, "Hey," when she touched my rump.

"Ummm... your underwear is wet, too, Brook. You’ll have to take those off as well."

"And wear what?" I asked, never expecting her to hand me a pair of very pale blue, cotton panties. "I can’t wear those! They’re Elena’s."

"They’re brand new. I just pulled them out of a package in her drawer. Just put them on. It’s really not a big deal."

"Maybe not for you..."

"Come on," Brooke sounded very mature and rational, "it’s only a big deal if you make it a big deal. Just put them on. Please."

I sighed and took them and put them on, praying that I didn’t have an orgasm right then and there. I didn’t, thank God.

"Here," she said, handing me a pair of very short beige shorts.

"Seriously, Brooke!? There’s no way anyone would believe these are men’s shorts."

"I know and I’m sorry," she said, "but I’m just trying to make the best of an unexpected situation. I thought that we’d just be grabbing fish and chips at a roadside place or something. The Weathervane is a big deal to my sisters, Brook. You’ll like it, though. I swear you will."

I huffed, but like I told you already, this was kind of like a dream come true.

I pulled the shorts up and buttoned them and zipped them up. They barely came four inches down my legs, exposing my hairless legs. "These are REALLY SHORT," I pointed out needlessly.

"They look fine," Brooke said. "Hold your arms up and I’ll help you with your top."

I held up my arms and she lowered a kind of blue and red plaid top over my head. It was cotton, wasn’t tight, but had no give to it, the way a tee shirt would. It was more like a dress shirt, but it didn’t button up the front. I felt my arms slip through the arm holes, but there were no sleeves.

Brooke settled the top on my shoulders and said, "Stay still for a moment," and she began buttoning a few buttons near the top of the back of the shirt.

I could see that there was a small, while collar on the shirt, too, with a small opening at the neckline and the shirt’s hem fell nearly to the bottom of the shorts I was wearing.

"Wait... what kind of shirt is this?" I asked, a little panicked.

"Relax," Brooke said, calmly, "you look fine."

"Yeah, but I look fine and like a girl," I said. "Take it off me."

"Come on, Brook. At least take a look at how you look before you make a decision." She took my hand and led me to her father’s bedroom where there was a sliding closet door that was entirely a mirror. "See," she said, guiding my attention to the mirror, "you look fine. No one would even question if you’re a girl. Come on. The girls really want to go to The Weathervane."

I stared at myself for a good long moment, shocked at how good I looked and shocked by how little it had taken to get me looking this good. Just cleaning my hair up, a ponytail and a couple of pieces of clothing and any sign of manhood that I might have possessed was gone – just gone. I couldn’t believe it.

Not only that – I loved it, and it was a good thing that the top was a long as it was, because I could feel myself hardening and I was very grateful that Brooke couldn’t see the evidence of my excitement in her little sister’s shorts.

"See?" Brooke said. "What do you think?"

"Wha..." I tried to say something... anything. "What do YOU think?" I finally got out. "Do you think it looks ok?"

She turned me towards her and she smiled at me. "I think you look adorable, Brook."

Then, with me facing her, she reached behind my head and pulled out my ponytail out of its hair tie and ran her fingers through my hair. Her smile seemed to broaden as she did it. She put her forehead on mine and our noses touched. "You know, Brook... you make a very good looking girl. This could be something that’s kind of fun to explore."

My eyes must have opened opened wider than they ever had before. "THIS is something that could get me killed if my dad ever found out about it."

"Interesting," she said and her smile turned a bit wicked.

"What?"

"You didn’t say ‘no.’"

I must have blushed, but I couldn’t speak because I couldn’t deny that I was excited by the idea of exploring this idea.

"So, here’s the thing," she said, running her hands down my back, "I think this might be fun and you think this might be fun, too, and your new best friend is a really," she kissed my forehead, "really" she kissed it, again, "good cosmetologist. So... I think we are going to have a very interesting summer. What do you think, Brook?"

My throat was so dry, I couldn’t even speak. "I... I... I..."

She kissed my forehead once more. "You’re quivering," she giggled.

"I am?" Hell, I would have been quivering in a three piece Brooks Brothers suit, for crying out loud! She’d just kissed me! Just my forehead, yeah, but it was a kiss. And not a ‘I’ll make your boo-boo all better kiss’ like yesterday.’ This was a real, honest to God, affectionate kiss... on my forehead.

"I’ll take that as a yes."

I just nodded and that made her look very happy.

"Well, alright," she said in a very sultry voice. "Then let’s have a little more fun for your first outing in girl-mode. Ok?"

I still could only nod.

She still looked into my eyes, but she called out the door. "El?"

"Yeah?" her sister yelled back from down stairs.

"Do you have a spare bra here? This top isn’t hanging quite right?"

"Sure," she said and she came running up the stairs.

Brooke stepped away, took me by the hand and we got back to the girls’ room just before Elena got there. She hopped right past me, completely ignoring the bizarreness of her sister’s request, opened a drawer and asked, "Anything in particular?"

"Do you have anything with a little padding?" Brooke asked, winking at me.

"Everything I have has a little padding," Elena said, sounding a bit disgusted with herself. She pulled something from a drawer and handed it to me. "Now WE can be twins, I guess," she smiled, "but no one but us will know." She giggled.

"Turn around," Brooke instructed.

I did and she unbuttoned my top, again, and lifted it off of me. Then she slid the bra up my arms and fastened it behind me. It felt kind of wonderfully odd to have it slightly constricting my chest the way it was. And the way that it created two small mounds on my chest made me move past quivers and straight into shivers. The little bit of lace that outlined the edges of the bra made the garment that much more delicious to have on.

"Arms up," Brooke said, as if speaking to a child, but I obeyed like an obedient toddler. The top came back on and she buttoned it back up and, after she pulled my hair free, I returned to her father’s room and I looked in the mirror again – and I looked even more like a girl than I did before. The addition of the modest little breasts dispelled any doubt that the person reflected in the mirror was a girl – not woman, but a girl. Cute, a little boyish, needing some lessons on eyebrow care and makeup, but that would come as she grew up. For now... she was... adorable. And she was me.

"You like?" Brooke asked.

I nodded. "I do."

She smiled. "I knew you would." Then she shouted, "Everyone downstairs! Hair and makeup and ready to go in ten minutes!"

"Ok!" Her sisters called back and I could hear them hustling about the condo.

"You’re like a general, aren’t you?" I laughed, finally looking away from the mirror.

"Someone has to be," she smiled as she led me back to the guest room to pick up my clothes. "My mom certainly isn’t and daddy was hardly ever home. So... I’m usually in charge. It works out ok, I guess. The girls and I get along pretty well. Come on.

We went back downstairs, and Brooke grabbed a brush and a makeup case from her tote bag. "Come on, Mel. You’re up."

Melissa jumped up and stood before her sister, who pulled out her hair tie and started brushing her hair straight back. When she was satisfied, she gave it a spraying. Then she grabbed her makeup case and applied a light coat of makeup, a little eye makeup and lipstick to her younger sister.

"Ok," she said when she was done. "El, come on."

Elena took the same practiced position that Melissa had just surrendered and Brooke followed the same practiced maneuvers of hair and makeup until she was satisfied.

"Ok," she said when she was done. "Brook, come on."

Having watched the two younger girls, I knew what to do, so I stood and let Brooke work her wonders on my hair. After she’d sprayed my hair, I started to step away, but Brooke stopped me. "Hold on, Brook."

Then, before I knew it, she was applying makeup to my face.

And I didn’t stop her.

"What do you guys think?" She asked, presenting me to her sisters.

"You look good," Elena said.

"Cute," Melissa said. "Are you sure you’re a boy?" That made all of us chuckle.

The truth was, I wasn’t, but I was about to head out the door dressed as a girl for the first time and I could not have been more excited.

When she’d done her own hair and makeup, Brooke, said, "Let’s go." The two younger girls headed out the door, but Brooke stopped me. "Ready?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

She looked out the door to be sure her sisters weren’t looking, then she leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on my lips. I was shocked, but accepted it and bent my head back to accept as much as she wanted to give, but, alas, it was just a brief kiss. "For luck," she smiled.

I stared at her, unable to even breathe for a moment. "Are you ok?" She giggled.

"Wha...?" I muttered. "Yeah... yeah... yeah... I’m... I’m... fine," I finally sputtered.

She smiled. "Cool. Let’s go."
 
 
To Be Continued...