Easter is a time to parade your best to a new best friend.

Easter Best
(abridged, frm Easter Givings 2002)
by Deela Eon

It began shortly after the first day of spring in Aunt Em's Victorian rural home after my foster mom "aunt" and I finished breakfast after she turned off her tabletop radio in the middle of reporting John Glenn's splashdown.

"Peter..." she said fondly with a poignant sad look. "These three years you've been with me have been the happiest I've ever had. I'm now sure those social workers are eating crow for calling you a very troublesome child. I'm only sorry I hadn't cared for you since you were seven after your parents' terrible car accident."

"I know, Aunt Em," I quietly answered with a sober lump in my throat, trying to sound calm and nonchalant like any twelve-year-old junior jock, but it was hard after she broke the grim terrible news last week.

"Now, since it'll be the last Easter I'll ever know—"

My heart twitched. "Aunt Em, don't say that!" I cried. "You'll get better! You gotta!"

"Peter, I wish it wasn't true. We've already gone through this. You needn't worry because I'm placing you in a good foster home before I die."

"No! I wanna stay here — with you! You're the best foster mom I ever had!" I flung myself around her and she stroked my short locks. It was a terrifying to notion, not only losing her but facing a new unknown set of guardians. I doubted any would be as forgiving and obliging as Aunt Em.

"There is only one wish I miss...but I don't know if you can fulfill it."

"Anything, Aunt Em! Anything!"

She paused, looking at me with demure wistful eyes. "You're everything I could wish in a grandson, yet...I miss what it's like having a granddaughter, especially now that Easter is coming in two weeks. You've seen how my quilting-bee friends are always bragging about their granddaughters! About how proper and pretty they are at Easter church service then the Easter pageant parade on Main Street to the park. Strolling alongside their being all lovely in pink and lace, so happy and proud they've such pretty grandchildren...

"O, I'd hate to die never knowing that feeling!"

"I'm sorry, Aunt Em!" I sincerely said, feeling awkward at feeling her angst but understanding it. Whenever her quilting-bee dropped by, all they ever clucked about were their granddaughters and nieces and how nice and pretty and smart they were, especially when now it seemed girls were starting to show up not only in the streets but at school in blue jeans and sneakers instead of full-skirted dresses and maryjanes or skimmers. You started hearing older women fret, calling it the beginning of the end of juvenile femininity and the 'tomboy look', though others just shrugged it off as merely a passing trend in society.

She smiled a wistful look. "Maybe you don't have to feel sorry, Peter. In fact, maybe there's a way you can help grant my last fondest wish before I die."

"Last wish? How??" I asked and she paused and looked pitifully hopeful, like she was resting all her possessions on my shoulders.

"If you do something very, very special for me only for Easter weekend, even though you might feel very funny about it or much too scared to do it even though no one else will ever know."

"Don't worry 'bout that, Aunt Em! I'll do anything for you! Doing what?" I asked, muting the slight to my courage. She looked at once contrite and wistful, as though already doubting I'd oblige her.

"Well, you see sweet Peter, I was wishing...hoping...if maybe just for one special day, you might pose as my granddaughter."

"Huh??" I blinked aback, then shrugged off a sickly old man's obvious grammatical error. "Er, you mean your grandson, right?"

She gently smiled. "No, sweet, Peter. My granddaughter. The granddaughter I never had."

"Granddaughter??" I said, not entirely sure I understood then with a gasp of dismay I scanned her eyes for any sly sparkle of any joke. None. "You—you want me to pose as—as a—a girl??"

"Just this Easter weekend. I just once want to pretend that I'm showing my community bee that I've a granddaughter of my very own!"

"Er...huh, see...I mean...but, I'm a boy, Aunt Em!" I gingerly but firmly emphasized. "I mean, isn't there a girl somewhere else who can pose way better than me you can ask??"

"I would — but it wouldn't be the same, Peter. If I ever had a real goddaughter, I'd want her to be exactly like you. I could never be as proud of a stand-in as I am of you!" she gently complimented my muddled gratitude while patting my hand. "It'd mean so much to me before I die, a happy thought to take to my grave," she said like a flattering plea to my total floored look. I didn't want to say no to someone who didn't treat me like some temporary boarder at a vet, but at the same time my struggling budding male ego welled qualms and bitter social memories.

But then she was dying.

Consternated, bemused, naive and even a little guilty, I gnashed my lip before her begging smile before reconsidering my objection with a fresh social note; I mean how bad can it be obliging her wish since girls can look the same as boys in jeans and sneakers now? I can grin and bear the humiliation of her cronies mistaking me for a crew-cut tomboy for a couple of minutes.

"Oh well..." my naiveté sighed, "I...I guess so, Aunt Em."

"O thank you, hon!" she nearly squealed, kissing me. "You just don't know how much this means to me! I can't wait to see the faces of my bee when they see my goddaughter visiting for Easter! Oh, we'd best be shopping right away!"

"Didn't we get everything at the supermarket yesterday?"

She tittered and tweaked my cheek, "Such a darling! I mean shopping for your Easter outfit!"

"Easter outfit??" I braced in sinking apprehension. "I mean, I'm not just wearing jeans and sneakers like some girls do??"

"Of course not! Not on Easter! Not even for tomboys! Only the nicest prettiest dresses and ensembles will do for my granddaughter!"

Nicest?

Prettiest??

The horror of my commitment sunk in. "You mean I—I gotta wear a—a— real girls' clothes??" I blurted, unable to even say the words.

"Why, of course! A girl should dress like a girl, not a boy!"

"But I'm a—a—!..." My balk gnashed my waxy-coated lower lip, instinctively just unable to shatter the happiness shining her face after so many months in the dark doldrums. As totally off the wall as her request was, I just couldn't couldn't face her liquid dying eyes with a cold selfish head-shake.

Stifling a grudging sigh, I soberly nodded and she happily tittered and hugged me.

"O, I'm so pleased that I'm I'll be going to God happy, after finally seeing my sweet lovely little Bunny!"

"Huh? 'Bunny'??"

'Bunny'??

Man!

Whatta way to spend Easter Break!

- - -

"There we go!" Aunt Em happily chimed as her steam comb brushed my short locks into kind of a pixie cut, and silently I scolded myself for stalling my overdue haircut! My chagrin didn't need any mirror to tell it was a sissy hairstyle for any guy, even though I heard that in England hair down to your ears was kinda popular now for guys.

Aunt Em read my silent grimace. "Well, you know why I have to do this before we go shopping, Peter, right?"

"So no one will think I'm — really a boy when you pick out my — stuff, right?" I skeptically murmured with a bitter sigh that merely brushing my hair in a girl's style was enough to pass me off as one without even changing my jeans, sneakers or sweatshirt. But then ever since kindergarten people from substitute teachers to strangers were always mistaking me for a 'pretty tomboy' half the time. It really sucked and contributed to pumping my macho swagger and bad attitude even before my folks' fatal car crash. That's why I was a little surprised that I didn't put up more of a protest to Aunt Em's crazy proposal, but then I chalked it up to only paying back someone who plucked me out of an orphanage zoo and treated me as one of her own family instead as a road to a paycheck.

Besides, she was dying.

"Done!" Aunt Em said, standing back and nodding at my new hairstyle. "Now to brush-up your delicate demeanor as well!"

"I'm not mean, Aunt Em!"

"No, no, I meant the way you come across to people. If you wish to pass for a girl you have to move like a girl and act like a girl. After all, you don't want anyone to tell you're really a boy, right?"

What a warped trap.

Groan.

It all seemed like an awful lot of trouble and humiliation to teach me how girls don't really sit and walk and gesture, still, after an hour Aunt Em felt I was ready for shopping. Aunt Em admonished my pose in the car once or twice to keep my knees and ankles 'properly' welded together, which only made me all the more nervous about looking a dainty sissy to any schoolmates I might run into at the mall as I timidly followed Aunt Em into 'Moi Belles Boutique'. First we headed for the shoe section where my Keds sneakers came off and Aunt Em picked out a pair of robin's-egg blue patent leather lo-heel pumps with cute blue bows. Ruefully, I sat down while the salesman knelt to work several shoes up my white socks, though I felt he cupped my heel in his palm a little long between shoes and made me walk in the alien footwear, though it looked deliciously eerie looking down and seeing a fancy girl's shoe where mine ought been.

Smiling, Aunt Em nodded then told the eager salesman; "Also, a pair of charcoal suede skimmers, please! With anklet socks too."

"Huh? Why I need two pair, Aunt Em?" I asked, baffled.

"One's dress, the other casual."

"I mean, it's just for Easter so why I need another pair?"

"Well, you can't wear Easter finery all day, dear! There's your Easter dress outfit for church and the Easter parade later on, and a casual one for meeting my bee in."

"'Casual one'??" I blinked aback at a stunning hint. "Wait! You mean you're getting another outfit?? Why can't i just wear the same one for them?"

"Because it's just not done! All boys know that!" Aunt Em tittered as though everyone knew the mysterious fashion etiquette of girls. Of course I knew squat, but felt better than challenge that revelation than show my ignorance.

Groan!

The salesman slipped frilly white socks up my foot then velvety black flats which felt like slippers when I walked. "Very good, young man!" Aunt Em said. "She's wearing them to the dresses department too."

"Huh??" I blurted as the salesman packed my sneakers in another bag and Aunt Em moved on to the dreaded pre-juniors department. I was impressed how my snug girl-shoes felt even more comfortable than my sneakers, but my new hairdo just wasn't a disguise enough for my ego to pass as a girl here, and I was glumly staring at the floor while Aunt Em primped through aisle of fluffy laces and silks and chiffons.

"Come Bunny, chose an outfit!"

I winced and anxiously glanced about if anyone heard. "Aunt Em, please don't call me that here."

"Oh, don't fret, darling! They see a tomboy, not boy! Now pick your favorite color!"

"I don't have any, Aunt Em," I politely but unenthusiastically answered.

"Bunny, just touch the dresses! This is what you're wearing to church too!" Her serious reverent tone somehow diminished the sissy shame of the dresses almost to picking out a suit, and somewhat begrudgingly I felt the silky garments and the soft smoothness tingled up my fingers. For some reason the sensation was almost welcome, even somehow familiar and seemed to soothe my male ego's ruffled feathers.

Aunt Em chose eight dresses for me to take to the try-on room where I briefly but lamely balked at her coaxing me to strip down to my underwear before her, but once again my embarrassment fell strangely feeble and wafted entirely as she led my passage with donning alien clothing while strange giggly waves of unadmitted awe and fascination rippled through me as the smooth brush of sateen and lace caressed my skin. It was so weird because I never anticipated that the mere touch of clothing could be so dynamically sumptuous, yet reaping those sensations easily overwhelmed any self-consciousness. Maybe it was because I knew that my damning dissembling was only temporary and likely a once-in-a-lifetime dare to indulge the tingly strangeness of it.

After a hour of surprise enjoyment doing guy-forbidden fashions I grudgingly settled on a pale-pink accordion chiffon dress with a nautical-looking peach-pastel top and Aunt Em bought a roll-brim satin-ribboned bonnet, white knit gloves and frilly anklets and a package of ivory tights to go with it, then just as I thought we were headed for the cashier, she moved over to an aisle of casual clothes and took down a plaid jumper.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"Your casual dress!"

"Huh? O, yea..." I sighed and compromised from her frilly preferences with a powder blue blouse and a teal jumper whose skirt was really a flared skort which I figured might make me feel more like I was wearing a pair of shorts instead of a skirt, especially since I could still wear boys' underpants.

Man!

What a frilly sissy!

How can I live this down? Is even her feelings worth all this??

Freak!

"My, how lovely!" Aunt Em said to my muffled smirk as my chagrin hastily modeled a turn before turning for the try-on room. "No, don't change, Bunny. I think we're wear that out."

"What???" I blurted with a shiver, "But what about my real clothes?"

"I'll stuff them in a bag. I think you should start getting used to wearing your new clothes around people before the bee drops in."

"But—but I can't leave like this!" I blurted in fringe horror. "There're kids from my school all over the mall! If they see me like this my name's dead meat!"

"Don't fret, Peter. I won't embarrass you, I promise," she said, leading me over to the wig department to drape several different tress styles over my head.

Grossy groan!

Still, it was fun seeing my different brunette, redhead and raven selves in the mirror, finally settling on a flaxen-blonde number with heaps of roiling curls that cascaded around my face and off my shoulders. Blond and red hair seemed to draw more attention on my face, but black seemed to partly mute your features, which was fine with me, though I had to admit my reflection in frames of wispy teasing curls and bangs looked pretty in a weird cute twin sister sort of way. I was doubly skittish as hell as we left the boutique, and it was worst as Aunt Em decided on idly window shopping the length of the mall. I was scared shit that someone from school was going to recognize me in a teal jumper, raven tresses and suede flats and anxiously kept my back to the street while hiding my chagrin at assorted storefronts, but behind the twin sis in my reflection my dread of seeing laughing stares from shoppers and especially other boys not only came up dry, but caught a few of them following me with interested smiles that felt oddly delightful.

After a while my anxiety of being seen as a boy in drag waned and trained my self-awareness back on myself, at the strange silky raven mass flouncing on my shoulders and the eerie shameful coolness wafting up my bare legs and swirly skirt which itself felt like a flagging tease as I primly walked according to Aunt Em's directions.

"Very good practice, Bunny! Say, let's have lunch!" Aunt Em suggested, beaming. "Just mind your mannerisms!"

I thought we were going to a weiner stand, but instead we went to a diner with booths and music boxes at every table, though it was embarrassing the way Aunt Em nitpicked my table posture and manners.

"Fold your hands on the table -- and keep your knees and ankles pressed together -- but you can cross your ankles if you want."

'No way! I'd be too sissy!' I thought, though I was surprised and a little bewildered how whelmed I was by the novel sensations of my new frilly sissy but cute clothes. I chalked it up to the novelty of it all; I was quite assured my staunch masculinity would trump any sissy inclinations evoked by this episode.

---

Aunt Em woke me around seven o'clock for a Easter breakfast and a shower and donning my Easter outfit.

I had to first roll ivory tights up my legs which was a new experience, especially since I was in my underwear with Aunt Em helping me out. It felt eerie, seeing my skinny legs transformed by a silky frosty film into almost elegant columns then over that a crinoline slip whose short starchy skirt fanned away from my thighs.

"Er, try this now," Aunt Em shyly said, producing a skimpy garment that made my ego cringe in horror.

"No! No way!! I can't wear that, Aunt Em!"

"But it'll make your dress look better and you a more ladylike young lady."

"I'm a boy, Aunt Em, not a girl!" my muddled ego parried and her badly hid wince tweaked my hurt with selfish guilt, so I sighed and raised my arms for her to slide the straps over and lower the flat lacy garment over my chest.

A Bra???

Man, is this super-sissy shit or what??

As though to quickly cover my humiliation, Aunt Em dropped the mint pastel dress over my head and tugged its hem down almost to my knees — which it couldn't touch because the crinoline slip underneath belled out the pale-pink chiffon accordion skirt away from my legs. Which looked kinda old fashioned and neat in a way, especially how it swirled a little with the smallest twist of the waist. Also my stuffed bodice was hardly any Mae West; twin puffed pancakes was more like it, and it did give my garment a teasing kind of budding maturity.

It was different from my casual jumper outfit beyond having no hidden boy-shorts-like skort to half-assauge my ego; this elegant ensemble was meant to groom and flaunt dainty femininity.

Aunt Em sat me down to lightly powder puff my face and tease my eyelashes feathery lush and brush a waxy coral gloss over my gaping lips. After draping a curly raven mane over my head crowned with my bonnet on top, and working ivory-filmed toes work into eggshell pumps, she let me face the mirror—

Wow!!

My twin sis looked cute in her jumper yesterday, but now she looked glamourous and winsome gawking back so, and coyly-teenish with her mildly mounded bodice and magically nice sleek frosted legs. But it was her new face that floored me, so powder-perfect and her gawking eyes so wide in their feathery nests and gaping lips so eerily becoming with their pale coral shine...

I felt—

Omigosh!

"Well, how does it feel, Bunny?"

Blinking nonplussed, I gnashed my waxy-coated lower lip then mustered a pleased chuckle not only because I didn't know how to describe it, but I was kind of embarrassed at just how awkwardly and sheepishly moved I was as a 'tween' guy facing a dolled-up chick closer than any other girl besides my sister.

Gee, hope I'm not TOO attractive! I dreaded and fancied.

"Pull your skirt, darling!" Aunt Em said as I sidled into the car's front seat after first smoothing my skirt beneath me and burying my folded knit gloves upon its fullness. I was nervous as heck, despite all Aunt Em's reassurances and yesterday's mall trial-run, and as we got out a block down from the church my skittish heart jumped as Aunt Em instantly spotted one of her bee friends. Thank god boys weren't expected to hang around elderly circles and I hardly ever faced Aunt Em's cronies those times they dropped by for tea and aimless chatter in the back sun parlor.

"Hi Helen!!" she called an elegant dowager over who kissed her then considered me. "Helen, my granddaughter, Bunny."

"My, my!" Helen tittered. "What a lovely young lady!"

With that my skittishness of being a boy caught dead in girls clothes dissolved with a stifled smirk as I aptly fanned out my skirt as did a bob.

"Happy Easter, ma'am."

"Oh, Emma, she's precious! I can't get my god or grandchildren to dress pretty if I got on my knees! If only they didn't only look this way only on holidays! Don't you agree, Bunny?"

"Oh, huh..." I mulled the point, and to my surprise my response came from the cozy alien feelings of my snug lacy envelope. "Well, it's a lot nicer than dressing the other way."

Helen beamed. "Well, no tomboy here, eh, Emma??"

"Bunny's a very special little lady," Emma said, looking fondly at me. "I couldn't ask for a more considerate and compassionate granddaughter!"

Her beaming face made my bodice swell by a cup size and I knew I made her day and light to heaven.

Demurely, I trailed them into church, meeting up with and greeting more of Aunt Em's cronies who smiled endearingly at my every curtsy which was quickly losing its sissiness. I aptly spread my skirt as I perched the pew between Aunt Em and the center aisle. I was never all that religious— like, not hardly, but being in that crisp soft envelope seemed to coax a gentleness and reverence of my natures from me I never suspected I had.

Throughout Easter church service I muffed my yawns behind my knit gloves and usually when I did the corner of my eye often caught a few boys craning faces my way, but I was sure that they noticed nothing different about me as I kept my nice silken knees and low-heels welded together and gloves clasped upon my puffy skirt's lap.

After service, the pastor greeted me at the door without a trace of recognition, and Aunt Em reintroduced me to her cadre as I executed deep curtsies and beamed headlight smiles as we all took a stroll toward the park.

"O, how they dote you, Bunny!" Aunt Em happily exclaimed aside then, quietly soberly sighing at all the lovely girls in flouncy silks and lace exiting the church, headed us for Main Street's Easter parade to join and mingle with all kinds of other churches and groups. I was amazed at all the Easter finery, both whimsical and elegant. It was awesomely pretty to see schoolgirls all dolled up with curls like fluffy lacy butterflies gathering and tittering and teasing another's princess looks and basking looks from proud and wistful adults. And not only them.

Aunt Em certainly got her wish.

I felt like her primped prize poodle before beaming and complimenting grown-ups, which was so delightful and fascinating because I never received such flattery as a guy. I wanted to bask my strange newfound praise but my jealous male ego balked and moved me to mosey away to perch a park bench up the grassy tree-covered slope overlooking the duck pond where swans paddled away from remote-controlled sailboats. My knit gloves idly preened the sheeny fluffy skirt veiling my lap and the raven wisps lapping the front of slightly mounded chest while I mulled the odd feelings flitting inside me, knowing that I should feel abashed and sissy as hell, yet, I felt a kind of pleased pride at the reception my disguise took.

If I really looked this nice to people and drew such pleased attention that felt so nice, I wondered what my life would've been as a girl instead. It was a thought I routinely fought since kindergarten, being mistaken for a 'pretty tomboy,' but doesn't my debut here prove that people weren't joking or teasing or wrong about me? Do I really look better a girl than a guy? But even if such was so, it didn't mean I had to act all dainty like a girl like I did today. Looks weren't everything! It's what you are inside too!...

Something like a E.S.P. zap in my mind made my feathery eyelashes blink and focus in the reality beyond my muse. I'd been idly watching a race of three boats when I suddenly noticed a boy in all his neat Easter spruce-up looking my way.

Staring straight me!

Which was embarrassing enough but there was more and I squinted tighter then gasped back.

My heart seized.

Ohmigosh!

Craig Caldwell!

One of the eighth-grade jocks in my class! I didn't really know him but he's seen me since grammar school!

Headed this way!

Oh God!!

I'm a dead man!

Frantically, I jerked down the floppy front brim of my bonnet to block my face from sight, but that was definitely a wrong signal.

"Hi."

Oh God! He's right in front of me! No way he can't recognize me!!

"Hi—hi—" I weakly said still under my blocking brim, silken knees knocking under my skirt.

Jesus! How could I explain this?? You can't!!!

"Er, can I ask a question?"

"Huh?"

"Do you have a brother or a cousin who looks a little like you?"

I nearly tittered in my scoffing evasion.

"Brother?? No, no way!!" I blurted, too high, too histrionically, too desperately, and my heart flipped double as he peeked under my blocking brim to see my face up close.

"Peter???" Craig gushed in amazement. "Peter Martin???"

"Peter??" I tittered like a girl bird, turning aside. "Who's Peter? I—I'm not any Peter! I'm a—a girl! Look!"

"You are Peter!" Craig insisted. "You sounded just like him just now and look a little like him, but it's really you isn't it? Not any twin sister or anything, right?"

I wanted to sink to the center of the Earth. There was no reason to deny it. I was caught. Exposed. Seen the most sissy way a guy could be. The worst nightmare any boy could have.

"Aw man, look, you believe me, it's—it's not like it looks! I—It wasn't my idea, honest!" my anxiety rattled off like a machine gun if desperately appealing to a capital punishment case jury, "My aunt's dying and she wants to have a granddaughter to show off to her friends before she dies except she doesn't have any so she asked me and I couldn't say no because she's dying so I went along to the store with her to—"

"Slow down, slow down!" Craig chuckled, grinning at my mortal chagrin and I wondered how I was going to school next week. "Mean, you're doing this because your aunt's dying?" he asked and I somberly pointed out Aunt Em chatting with her bevy. Craig faced me with fascination and a tweak of something admiring. "Man, that's super kind of you."

My feathery eyelashes blinked. "Huh?"

"Like, I don't know if I could do that with my own mother! You must really like her!"

"Uh, er, yea. She's — great," I admitted with sober appreciation. "She's the only foster mom I had who really cared about my feelings."

He nodded. "She's lucky someone like you was around."

"Yea...." I sniffled, wondering what now. My school life, my social life was good as dead. Rep ruined. All I wanted to do was to run off and bury my head somewhere up a pony's rear. Why doesn't he talk?

"But...I know it's still a super sissy thing to do, getting up like this..." I lamely said to break the tension and maybe reassert the shreds of masculinity in his eyes.

"I don't think so."

I blinked again, this time up at his face. "Huh?"

"I don't think you look sissy at all. In fact, you kinda look terrific."

"Terrific??" I wanted to squash the warmth flattering my shaking head. "Mean super sissy!"

"No way! You're a real doll!"

"Doll??" I blurted then hastily snickered with denial. "I'm a guy, not no 'doll'l! What do you think I am??"

"Pretty," he said almost like a half-blurt then paused as though seeing the bitter fire in my eyes then he smiled, "Not just me. I overheard lots of guys in church and in the parade asking who that cool chick with the old ladies is. I'm not joking. You really look like a million looking like that!"

I wanted to feel flattered, but I had to assert myself! "Uh, yea...but doesn't change that I'm a guy!" I said, then alarmed as I noticed several boys in the crowd watching the races who were instead watching us.

Too many of them.

My padded chest suddenly pounded with dismay. "Oh gosh."

"What?"

"Uh....they...don't know -- who I really am, do they?"

Craig chuckled and sat next to me. "Not in a million years."

"But -- you did," I said with new doubt about my disguise and Craig smiled slightly like weighing a confession and sat across from me.

"Maybe it's because...because I imagined you'd look something like this for a girl."

"Huh?"

"Won't feel insulted if I explain it, would you?"

"How can I feel more embarrassed than I already do??" I anxiously asked and Craig smiled, and I realized that he was taking advantage of my situation to express a long kept notion.

"See...ever since grammar school, I thought you were way too pretty to be a guy, so I'd imagine what you'd look like as a girl -- a lot, and one of the ways was kinda like that!" he stated, nodding at my effect. I didn't know whether to feel even more chagrined or outraged.

"Even though you knew I was a boy??" I quietly said as though to assert my masculinity by questioning his, and Craig lightly chuckled, and instead of feeling humored I felt my ego slighted to the core. "Freak! I'm no — no fag! No matter how I really look!"

"Hey, easy, Pete, I believe it! You don't act like any sissy so that's why I respect you."

"You do??"

"Sure. I could tell by hard you played in gym that you're trying to show that you're just as tough as another guy -- even though you sometimes lose trying to, like at track and basket ball!"

I blinked then on wild impulse laughed at all my staunch attempts to out-macho boys in my class to prove my worth. "I -- uh, yea...well, I -- I try."

"Hey, you're skinny and light -- for a guy. No one expects you to do like a muscle dude, but you do a good job trying, not like a sissy!"

My face warmed at his compliment. "Uh...er, thanks. Man! I'll sure be glad when all this is over so I can change outta this stuff!"

Craig's smile suddenly fell. "Do you have to?"

"What kinda question's that??" I asked and suddenly it was Craig who looked abashed before hastily recovering his nonchalance,

"Er—well...see, I was wondering if—if you'd like to hang around a little and -- and talk. Maybe go to Monster Burgers later."

"Monster Burgers?? Are you kidding??"

"No. I mean it. Order anything you want while we talk about grammar school and stuff. I mean, maybe it's 'bout time to know another since we'd gone to the same school."

"Never came up to me before!" I parried with a suddenly bitter edge and he actually blushed.

"Uh, I -- I was too busy making the sports teams I guess. 'Sides, I hardly saw you."

'No, you just saw me enough to imagine me as a girl every which way!' I inwardly chided him for such a lame bald-faced lie. At worst I was just another dork passing in the hallway to guys like Craig. At least he wasn't part of the bully crowd that teased me once a while, even though he imagined me a girl. Still, that he knew who 'Bunny' really was put me in a precarious position because he wasn't a friend or classmate, and there was no reason why he couldn't broadcast his discovery to the others for a good laugh and ruined my name for good. I was walking on eggs and the last thing I want was to cross the grain of his humor. I had to edge myself out of here to the safety of Aunt Em's car.

I shook my bonnet. "Uh...I -- I can't go like this!"

"Why not? You sure look great."

"I mean -- I mean, I -- I got no money."

"Naw. My treat!"

"Your treat??" I blurted before it dawned my smirk. "Shit, I'm no girl!"

"I know, I know, but since you're already all dressed up like one — and it wasn't your fault—why not just play along like? I mean, it's never gonna happen again your whole life, so why blow a free burger and fries and malts and stuff?"

My smirk mellowed into the fancy of the moment. I barely knew Craig at school, but here he was itching to treat me to lunch!

As a 'doll'.

That tickled something inside me to titter at his assertion as I recalled how Bunny's mirrored reflection roused me, so Craig must be feeling the same way now looking at me -- maybe even worst since I'm almost used to seeing myself! And the trailing looks 'I' got from guys in the mall and today said it was undeniable that I was attractive to boys and it was an eerily smug realization, like something else. Then suddenly, like a bolt from the blue I had a weird notion of what was really going on, and if it was true then my real identity was safe from being exposed by a jokester or blabbermouth, but I had to be sure...

I looked toward the boat race and its spectators and the half-dozen or so boys their regularly glimpsing back at us. Demurely, I gingerly said. "Huh...I -- I'd go with you, except -- I'm kinda -- worried of anyone finding out, you know?"

It was a clumsily sly way of determining my fate or security, true, but I hoped it didn't sound as shallow as it was. Craig shrugged.

"Don't worry about that. I'm not gonna say a word about -- Peter whats-his-name," Craig said, then cocked a smile. "Huh, you got a name to go with all that?"

"Name? Uh, 'Bunny'," I said, feeling abashed saying it even though my effect deserved more. "My aunt called me that."

"Cute -- just like how you look," Craig said with a suave smile and suddenly I felt a bloom of new apprehension to put him in his place.

"You know, normal guys don't go dreaming of other guys all dressed like this!" I lightly chaffed, waving over my effect and Craig chuckled and eyed me.

"Well, normal guys don't go looking like princesses either!" he reposted and I fought down a weird ticklily blush and haughtily shrugged my slim shoulders, bouncing my raven curls.

"You must've been staring after me awfully hard and long before you came up to me like this!" I semi-smugly said and he didn't answer. "Do you goo-goo eye every girl like that?"

Craig lightly chuckled. "Uh, well, I'm a red-blooded guy, so why not?"

"So you recognized me by fluke, right?"

"Uh, sure."

"But you came up to me in front of all your friends, even though you knew I was guy?"

"I -- I -- er...what's that to do with it?"

"Well, can I ask something real personal like?" I inquired, holding back cautious misgivings at being so brash. "You got any girlfriend?"

Craig winced as though surprised. "Girlfriend? Uh, sure, I -- I gotta girlfriend. What's that to do with it?"

"What's her name?"

"Name? Er, her name's -- name's Yvonne. Yea, Yvonne."

"Liar," I said because his pauses and jarred expression sounded it

"Huh? What'd you call me?"

"Because jocks in the eight-grade want other jocks to think they're already studs hanging with girls, even though it's all just gym locker bragging because guys our age are mostly still scared or puzzled by girls! So the only reason you're asking to treat me at Monster Burger is 'cause I'm really guy, right -- 'stud'??"

Craig frowned like I was a suspense spoiler then chuckled aloud and glimpsed at his friends then eyed me like a sour exposed fraud. "Think you have me all figured out, uh? What makes you think I'm scared of girls?"

"'Cause if you really had a girlfriend you wouldn't dare risk her hearing that you tried to hit on another girl! Every girl in junior high says that!"

Craig blushed and bridled. "Who says I'm 'hitting' on you?? I'm no -- fag!"

"Then how come you're trying to get me to go with you for a snack and stuff -- except maybe to make your friends over there think that you're such a stud that you can waltz up to any girl and get her to go with you?"

Craig smirked as though vexed and impressed by my logic. "You're smarter than you look, princess Barbie, but even if what you say was true, what's wrong with that? Least you get free eats -- and no one else knows your secret."

I snickered at his lame threat, feeling on an even playing field that was propped up by a smug cocky swell in my head and chest. "You're not going to tattle on me. I'm way too nice like this for you to blow being seen with me!"

Craig snorted. "'Nice' uh? Sure doesn't sound like any real guy's under there -- 'Bunny'!" he quipped as though admonishing and deriding my masculinity, and for moment my thoughts stumbled as though tripped by a element of truth.

"I don't need to prove who I really am to you or anybody! I know who I am! And suppose I just say no? You going to blab who I really am to your friends? Who'd believe it unless you drag me to the boy's bathroom and yanked my dress, uh??"

Checkmated by social rules and street manners, Craig smirked again, a funny sour smirk. "Cute! You wouldn't be so freaking sassy if I hadn't been keeping all kinds of bullies off your pretty back all along!" he muttered aloud to my blink aback.

"Huh? Keeping bullies off my --?? What do you mean?"

"Uh, I -- I -- forget it," Craig blurted back, this time almost abashedly dismissing his play. "I was just -- mouthing off!"

"Why would you say something crazy like that then?? Tell me!"

"I said forget it, okay? Forget everything!"

"No! Why'd you say that? Why you so skittish all a-sudden?"

"Er, excuse me, Bunny --??" discretely called Aunt Em's voice behind us, a smile fighting to break through her lips. Not far away, a knot of her bee friends politely waited. "I don't mean to interrupt, Bunny, but I'm leaving with my bee soon. So, you've found a friend?"

"Friend? Uh...uh, er -- yes, Aunt Em," I said with a sigh of relief before Craig's suddenly sheepish look. I was safe. Not even a bully was going to expose me with a guardian adult was around, even if I really was a fake fem. That was as crass and unthinkable as calling girls by locker room names -- at least in this era.

"Uh, Aunt Em, this is Craig. We -- go to the same school."

"Ma'am," he said with polite nod and Aunt Em beamed at him.

"Quite the spiffy young man you are! Are you friends with Bunny in school too?"

"Uh -- I --"

"We're just kind of friends, Aunt Em..." I gazed him with a fresh smile as a nameless gratitude at his odd statement mollified my regard. "But we're going to have lunch together to talk about old things a lot more now."

Craig quizzically blinked at me as though he wasn't expecting anything more from dashed plans then brokenly chuckled. "Uh, yea. The -- school's got a nice cafeteria, ma'am."

"My, my! That's such a pleasure to hear!!" Aunt Em said, popping out her large Polaroid camera and opening its back door to tear the damp black and white photo out the back.

I sucked a gasp. Aunt Em chuckled. "Yes, not bad. I took it from down the pond with that zoom lens setting, but isn't that just charming??"

"Wish I had one," Craig sighed aloud then faced me with a wistful look. "Uh...well, it was nice meeting you, Ma'am."

"A pleasure, young man, and thank you for being so gentlemanly with my granddaughter!"

"Er -- sure, ma'am," Craig answered as his eyes quizzically darted between us as though unsure whether Aunt Em was a dizzy old woman harboring a transvestite boy or whether I was a lying genuine girl who just happened to look like a dork he knew.

"See you at school, Craig!" I reminded like a light tease, gathering my full skirt up off the bench and Craig suddenly looked so sober, so disappointed, so cheated, and even as I thought back to how Aunt Em's full mirror earlier stirred and awed me, the corner of my eye spotted a dozen far away eyes trained on us with soured anticipation. A blend of impishness and sympathy swelled my padded pounding blouse and for a few moments my wildest whimsey escaped the bonds of self-control and briskly sneaked a quick peck on his cheek.

"Huh??" Craig blurted, looking as started as I felt about my maverick impulse, yet it felt like he deserved it.

"Thanks for not telling anyone," I softly said with a smile and wave and moving off to follow Aunt Em and her chatty bee, and before I turned my head the final time I spotted far beyond Craig a half-dozen junior jocks gawking and whistling and whooping it up.

Yes.

I think I just made Craig's week.

Wild hidden giggles!

After Aunt Em dropped off the last member of her bee and I moved up to the front passenger seat, I took out the photograph to awe at Craig sitting by my pretty raven-maned sister under a cute wide bonnet with folded gloves nestled her dress' billowy skirt and sleek ivory-filmed ankles coyly crossed under her bench. I was totally unaware of such a prim poise while talking guy with him, or the intense way we were looking at other even while carping back so.

"So, I hope you enjoy yourself today as much as I'm proud of you, Bunny!" Aunt Em said.

"It was—okay," I said with ego-muted enthusiasm as I settled back in my lacy nest.

Yea. It was going to be real interesting after Easter vacation to see how Craig was going to act towards me at school after that sisterly peck -- which I hoped he knew was just a joke. I think. I mean, I certainly didn't mean to peck another guy, though I think I know why I really did it, as if deep gratitude had jumped ahead of conscience and ego on impulse. I suspect I owe Craig for a lot more than he's going to admit to me, but he's already said enough to tell me that I'd long a closet admirer -- and protector. That notion tickled up a thrill and I wondered whether he'd still be as willing to treat me to Monster Burgers as my normal self. After all I was still the same person, just different in threads, right?

So why don't I believe that?

Again I stared at the photograph on my lap's gloves and ogled Craig's comely companion and felt unreasonably jealous of him, even though intellectually I knew this pretty chick was me.

No.

Another, hidden secret me. Not a sissy or a fairy, but someone else entirely...

I tittered and basked a smug warm rush, and I had to admit a weird tingly thrill at being so snugly wrapped in such a soft pretty envelope where beneath my primly spread skirt, my breezy ivory-filmed thighs and calves rubbed together with a strange delicious silky slickness. I licked the waxy gloss of my lips and felt the wispy silky curls brushing my cheeks.

So strange, yet so titillating...

Beneath my awe I felt a familiar soft breathless excitement I only began experiencing in the last few weeks whenever I ogled the leggiest and prettiest girls in the schoolyard or even just thought about them in bed and whenever it happened—like right now deep my skirt; I could feel a warm seep escaping that will quickly chill into a damp spot, only now this heady swelling sensation was growing past that into a throbbing knot of giddy breathless anticipation...

I barely contained a giggle of rapture and delight.

He called me a 'doll'.

A guy who knew I was one too yet it still didn't matter.

Was I that beguiling??

Yea, dolling up a girl wasn't so bad, not really, between all the awesome grownup compliments and flattery and getting hit by a junior jock who wanted to treat me out even though he knew I was really a guy. Were my girl-looks really that awesome?? Could this dainty getup really turn macho jocks to jello??

Impishly, wistfully, I wondered whether I made him seep too...

"Bunny...I want to thank you so for this day," Aunt Em said with a soft choke between breaths. "I felt so proud, like I really had a granddaughter rolled up in one, and you charmed everyone like a perfect little lady. I'm so happy I don't know what else to say. Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Aunt Em," I answered, unslighted and unabashed by being complimented as a 'little lady', not when that pose gave so many people so much pleasure and delight. The girl sitting next to Craig was a space-time wrap parallel twin apart from my existence, a mystery miss my guy-self could never encounter myself, and I could never share the same awe and enthrall they all felt looking at her. I felt almost — cheated.

Like Craig.

"Aunt Em..." I said, carefully choosing my words, "If it's alright with you, I...I don't mind being Bunny again now and then — if you want."

Aunt Em's eyes went nova with happiness and with one arm hugged my lacy shoulder close. "Yes dear, all you want! And in fact, I've some wonderful news for you so I'll be able to teach you how to handle new 'friends' like that nice young man for a long time!"

"O wow!!" I blurted with bubbly happiness, and even as I moved into her grateful press I wondered whether I -- a junior jock wannabe -- could really indulge Bunny's sumptuous virtues and titillating adventures in the strange world of girls without incurring the damning vice of fagdom and sissihood. I was sure that with a Halloween mindset I could tickle the dragon's tail and dip the warm thrill of romantic girlhood without lasting contamination like stealing a drag of a cigarette or a swig of dad's forgotten beer can, but I knew in burning the candle at both ends I had to stay out the middle.

Yea.

Bunny was sure gonna be one interesting thrill.

END