When I’m with my boy friends at school, or anywhere else, no one questions who I am, even with my pretty face. It’s no wonder Frank the bully thought I was an easy mark, looking the way I do. I may be pretty, but I’m still not a sissy, just ask Frank and any of the other kids who look to me for protection.

As I’ve said already, I’m tough as nails, and I’ll do anything, any other boy will do. I’ve had the scrapes to prove it. Maybe that’s why I don’t object to looking like a pretty girl.

Who’s going to tease me about it?

Certainly not Frank or his cronies.
 

 
Chapter Three
 
 
Several weeks passed since our little game at Cindy’s house. I was just getting over how pretty I was when the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Mark, quick, come over. My mom has something to tell you.”

Remembering the last time Mrs. Meyer got involved in my life I couldn’t help wonder what she had in mind.

“Come in Mark,” Cindy yelled, when I knocked on the door. “We’re in the kitchen.”

I walked back to the kitchen and saw Cindy and Mrs. Meyer sitting at the table with photos spread over the top of it.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Your pictures. God Mark, I’m so jealous. You’re beautiful,” Cindy gushed.

“Come on Cindy, I’m not that pretty.”

“Oh but you are, look.”

I looked at the pictures Mrs. Meyer had taken of me and for some reason they looked different on paper. I still had a hard time believing they were pictures of me. Cindy was right; I was beautiful, drop dead gorgeous. To say it kind of creeped me out would be an understatement. The first picture was easy to see me, because it was, just me, no makeup. The only thing that bothered me about the picture was I still was pretty in an understated way.

“What can you tell me about that photo, Mark?” Mrs. Meyer asked.

“It’s me and except for my hair I look like a girl.”

“Beside looking like a girl what else do you see?”

“My eyes are kind of pretty and my lips are kind of, I don’t know, puffy?”

Mrs. Meyer giggled when I said that.

“Those are called full lips, Mark. Women all around the world have things put in their lips to look like that.”

“Oh.”

“Now, look at the next picture, the one with the wig, what do you see?”

“Me again, but I look more like a girl.”

“Good, now look at the picture with just the mascara.”

I looked and saw what a dramatic in my appearance my eyes made. There was no mistaking me for anything other than a girl, a really pretty one at that.

“What do you think now?” Mrs. Meyer asked.

“I’m beautiful.”

“Yes you are and with hardly any makeup on at all. Mark, you’re a natural. Now look at the last photo, the one with all the makeup. What do you think?”

What could I think?

I was gorgeous.

I looked like one of those models in Cindy’s Teen Magazine. Being truthful I was prettier than any of those models, which pretty much sucked. I’m a boy for God’s sake and I’m not supposed to look that pretty. I know Cindy’s my best friend, and I’m hers, and she calls me her best girlfriend, but we both know I’m really a boy, even though we carry on as though I was really female.

When I’m with my boy friends at school, or anywhere else, no one questions who I am, even with my pretty face. It’s no wonder Frank the bully thought I was an easy mark, looking the way I do. I may be pretty, but I’m still not a sissy, just ask Frank and any of the other kids who look to me for protection. As I’ve said already, I’m tough as nails, and I’ll do anything, any other boy will do. I’ve had the scrapes to prove it. Maybe that’s why I don’t object to looking like a pretty girl, who’s going to tease me about it, certainly not Frank or his cronies?

“Mrs. Meyer, I don’t know what I should say. To be honest that’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and can’t believe it’s me. A boy shouldn’t be that pretty.”

“Well, you are, Mark, and that’s why I asked you over here today. As you know, I used to be a model, and Cindy is one now. I know you share her experiences when you talk about her photo shoots, after all you’re best friends. Getting to the point, I showed your photos to the modeling agency that represents Cindy, and signed me when I was still in the business. I’ve maintained a relationship with the agency, which is why I showed them your pictures. Do you know what they said?”

“No, maybe a boy shouldn’t be that pretty?”

“No Mark, that’s not what they said. They want to sign you as soon as possible. They’re exact words were, you could be bigger than Cindy Crawford.”

“Who’s Cindy Crawford?” I asked.

“You don’t know who Cindy Crawford is? Oh Mark, she was just the most popular model in the business. Every girl I knew wanted to be Cindy Crawford. How do you think my Cindy got her name? Cindy was the only name I would consider for my daughter, but never mind, getting back to you. My agency has shown your picture to several clients and do you know what they said?”

“No.”

“They said they had to have you, you, a boy who doesn’t know who Cindy Crawford is. Mark, Lush Cosmetics has already said they will pay you what ever you want, with in reason, to represent their products. Do you have any idea of how much money we’re talking about here?”

“No.”

You could see the excitement in Mrs. Meyer’s eyes as she spoke to me. I hadn’t the vaguest idea of what she was talking about. Lush Cosmetics, Cindy Crawford, how much money, it was making my head spin. God, all I am is a boy with a pretty face and to be honest, I liked being a boy. My dad and I did things girls just wouldn’t understand, like play ball just to throw it back and forth, or kick a soccer ball and try to score a goal off one another. It would be the same as asking a boy what girls saw in playing with dolls. Girls play with dolls and boys don’t.

Why do you think the Ken doll was such a dismal failure? Ken was a doll and boys don’t relate to dolls, even macho Ken dolls. We need real events for fun whereas girls are more intuitive, their efforts softer than boys. I considered myself lucky for being Cindy’s best friend and I was able to play like a girl, yet still fish and play ball like any other boy. I truly had the best of both worlds.
 
 
“Mark, one million dollars wouldn’t be out of the question, even for someone like you that’s never modeled before and that’s just the start. Other companies will line up for you to feature their lines. By the time you graduate from high school you could be worth over ten million dollars. Now wouldn’t that be a nice nest egg for college?”

“You’re just teasing me, aren’t you Mrs. Meyer. They do know I’m a boy don’t they?”

“No, we haven’t gotten that far just yet.”

“What do you think they will say when they find out?”

“There’s no reason for them to know you’re a boy. You’re a minor and would never have all your clothes off in front of anyone. You’re what twelve?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s it, and besides, all they want to use is your face. The only time you’d even have to wear anything remotely female would be during photo shoots. The rest of the time you could be Mark. It would be our little secret.”

“Being a boy isn’t a very small secret Mrs. Meyer, and beside, I doubt my mom and dad would let me do this anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Your mom and dad are very open-minded and when they hear how much money you could be making, they just might see things differently. Wasn’t your mother the one who put mascara on you in the first place?”

“It’s just a little game we played. My mom, doesn’t want me to suddenly become a girl, it was just a game. Cindy just happened to come by after she put the mascara on. If she hadn’t it still would be our secret.”

“Does your father know about your game?”

“Of course. I used to run to him after mom put the mascara on my eyes. He laughed and thought it was funny and said he thought mom wanted a girl and then we would go play ball. It was nothing as far as he was concerned.”

“So, both your parents have no issues with you wearing makeup?”

“It was just mascara and no they wouldn’t mind. I think they would mind if the rest of the world saw me with makeup on.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m a boy.”

“And one who could be making a ton of money wearing it. Look Mark, I’m not asking you to change your sex or anything like that. I’m just stating the facts that you’re probably one of the most beautiful people on the planet, and it’s a waste not to do something with your beauty.”

I was getting uncomfortable talking about this. I’m too young to make decisions like this. Millions of dollars is just numbers and I had no idea of what that kind of money could buy. I know my boy friends and I would see a car like a Ferrari and typically say, ‘man, I wish I had a car like that’, but that was just boy talk, we all did it. We couldn’t even drive one for four more years and we had no idea of the cost of one. It was fantasy.

“I have to go home Mrs. Meyer, thanks for all you’ve done for me.”

“Bring these photos with you and talk to your parents. Tell your mom I’ll give her a ring tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

I gathered the photos and tucked them under my arm. I would have folded them but I didn’t want to ruin them. Now all I had to do was show them to my parents.
 
 
“I’m home,” I yelled, as I entered the house.

Mom was cleaning the living room and saw the collection of photos under my arm.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I stammered.

“They look like pictures. Did Cindy give them to you?”

“Umm, yes.”

“Let me see.”

“Not now, Mom.”

“Oh come on, what could be so bad about some pictures?”

Let me see... I look like a beautiful woman for one, and my best friend’s mom wants me to become a model for two, I’m a boy, so I guess that about covers it.

Mom came over and took the pictures from me. The full makeup one was on the top.

“Mark, what a beautiful girl. Who is she? Is she a friend of Cindy’s? She looks like a model.”

Mom didn’t wait for an answer and started turning the photos backward, full makeup, mascara, wig, and just me. From the look on her face, I thought she would crap her panties right there.

“Mark, why are you wearing makeup?”

“Because Cindy asked me to. Remember when she caught us doing our thing with mascara, well she told her mother about it and this is the result.”

“Do you like it?” she asked, somewhat apprehensively.

“I don’t know, it was kind of fun at the time.”

“Do you do this often?” she asked, nervously

“God no Mom! This was the only time.”

My mother looked at me. I could only wonder what she was thinking as she looked at the pictures and then back at me. It wasn’t that warm, but a bead of sweat built on my forehead.

“I don’t understand this,” Mom said, shaking her head back and forth.

“Mom, it was nothing. I won’t do it again.”

“But why did you do it in the first place?”

“Mrs. Meyer wanted to show the pictures to the agency where Cindy works.”

“Do you mean the one that represents her?”

“I guess.”

“Are you trying to tell me other people have seen you looking like this?”
 
 
Mom’s voice started to rise, just a little, but it was like when I had done something wrong and she was really pissed.

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, what will people think?” What did they say? Are we going to be arrested for child abuse?”

“Mom, stop it. Nothing bad happened. They said I could be bigger than Cindy Crawford.”

“Cindy Crawford, what are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Meyer said the people at the agency want me to model for some cosmetic firm and they would give me like a million dollars. She said I could have ten million dollars by the time I graduate from high school.”
 
 
Mom sat down in my father’s chair. Her face had grown pale and I thought she was going to faint.

“Ten million dollars, what are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Meyer said this cosmetic company would pay me one million dollars just to wear their makeup for pictures and then other companies would want me and I’d make all this money. She said she would call you tomorrow.”

“I hope she does. I want a word with that woman. How dare she make my son look like a girl?”

“Umm, if you haven’t noticed, Mom, I already do.”

Mom looked at me and fell silent. She just stared.

I think she had just came to the realization that her boy did indeed look like a girl... and a very pretty one at that.