CHAPTER TWO
Once we were out of Suzie’s Teen Fashions at the mall, Heather said to Mitzi and Melodie, “See, we were right. Teddy is a beautiful girl, isn’t she?”

“You were so lovely, Teddy,” Melodie said, hugging me as we stopped dead in the middle of the crowded hallway of the mall.

“You were a good sport to go along with it, little sister,” Mitzi added.

It dawned on me. The three of them cooked this whole idea up to dress me as a girl. They must have been scheming up the adventure while I was in the men’s room.

“What? You tricked me into this? How could you, Mitzi?” I screamed in my high voice, attracting attention of passing shoppers.

“You loved it, didn’t you, Theodora?” Mitzi retorted.

“Come on, Teddy, we love you,” Melodie said. “We don’t want to hurt you. You were courageous to go through with his.”

“Did I hear Miss Stephanie suggest she might want to consider you to model some clothes?” Heather asked me.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it seriously,” I said.

“But you accepted her business card, little sister,” Mitzi reminded me.

I blushed.

The three of them grabbed me, creating a group hug that clogged up the busy corridor of the mall, attracting strange glances from the passing shoppers. I don’t remember when I last felt as happy as I did that day. The problem was: once we left the mall and returned home, I was no longer Theodora.

*****
Mitzi agreed not to tell mom about my Saturday as a girl, nor about the invitation that I should model dresses. “It’s our little secret, Teddy,” she said. I believed her; despite our occasional spats, I loved my sister; she really cared about me.

“You can wear my stuff whenever you like,” she suggested. “You can be Theodora when mom’s not home and I won’t tell.”

“Mitzi, I love being your little sister.”

I was in Mitzi’s room a couple of days after our shopping adventure where I was eagerly taking on a role of being a girl. Mitzi and I were seated together on her bed, our knees folded in front of us, with Mitzi’s laptop on her lap. I was cuddled close to her, examining a website that advertised teen girl fashions.

“I should be jealous of you, Teddy,” Mitzi said as we mulled over the various photos of dresses, skirts and blouses.

“Jealous of me?”

“Yes. You know those boys who met us at the mall? Well, Heather said that Curtis called her and he’d like to ask her to go to a movie and wondered whether that girl called Theodora would go with his friend Barry. You remember, he was the other boy?”

“Yeah, he seemed nice. But I can’t do that.”

“Don’t worry, Heather protected you and said you were too young to go out with boys.”

“Wow,” was all I could say. That was a relief.

“You weren’t even dressed then; just in all boy stuff, Teddy, yet that boy thought you were hot,” Mitzi said.

I guess I must have blushed. To be a girl wanted by a boy was intoxicating.

*****
A week later, Melodie asked me to join her when she went to the mall to pick up her dress. She would have to take the bus since her mother was working and her father was out of town. Both Mitzi and Heather were busy with after school activities.

Melodie lived close to the school; when school ended, we walked to her house together. I was worried about going into Suzie’s Teen Fashions in my male attire, but Melodie reminded me that when we were there before, I was also dressed as a boy.

“Yes, but you and Heather prettied me up then,” I said.

“I’ll pretty you up at my house and I have a pair of girl jeans that’ll probably fit you and you can also wear my pink sneakers. You’ll be fine.”

Of course, I was fully accepted as a girl as we entered the Suzie’s Teen Fashions. Stephanie spotted us immediately when we walked in and said how pleased she was to see us. She was disappointed when she learned I would not be buying the mint-colored dress.

“And you looked so pretty in it, Theodora,” she said. “But I understand when money’s tight.”

“Thank you,” I said smiling.

As she was carefully packing Melodie’s dress, Stephanie appeared to examine me, running her eyes up and down my body. Did she sense there was a boy underneath my girl jeans? I wondered.

“Have you ever considered my suggestion that you do some modeling, my dear?” Stephanie said, reminding me of her earlier comment that I model for her.

I was shocked. I shook my head.

“Well, you ought to. You’re a natural. You have my card, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” I replied, still reeling with her request.

“I was impressed by the way you moved and posed in trying out the dress. I might like to hire you to model, but talk it over with your parents and if you’re interested, you’d earn good money. But it is hard work.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to mom,” I lied.

*****
When we returned to Melodie’s house, I called mom and asked her if I could stay at Melodie’s.

“I’m going to be helping her with her French,” I said, realizing it was just partly true. I had become somewhat advanced in French thanks to an accelerated course I took in middle school, and Melodie was struggling with the language. We were going to study for a short while, but the real reason was that Melodie wanted to talk to me. Mom said she’d pick me up at eight o’clock.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked Melodie.

“Later,” she said. “Help me try on this dress again first.”

It was strange. Here I was a fourteen-year-old boy alone in a bedroom with a girl just a year older watching her strip down to her panties and bra. I marveled at her husky body, her full breasts that pressed against the cloth of her bra, the round tummy with its modest love handles and her firm thick thighs.

“I’m such a cow, Theodora,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” I protested. “You are just a big girl and you’re in great shape. I like looking at you.”

“You do?”

I smiled and she reached out to hug me. I embraced tentatively at first, but soon we moved into hard passion and we began kissing, tumbling together on the bed. My small penis began to grow hard and stiff. She felt all wet and sweaty and I buried my face into her bosom, licking the salt from her body.

“Take off your clothes, Teddy my dear girl,” she said.

I hastily took off my shirt and slid my jeans off. She looked at me and sighed, “Oh sweetie, you’re wearing panties.”

I slid down next to her and she caressed me all over, exclaiming over and over how soft and smooth I was. “We’re not going to do anything, Theodora,” she said. “Let’s just hug for a while. You feel so good.”

It was hard for me to restrain my sorry penis from wanting to spurt and eventually I gave in, sending my sperm all over her inner thigh. She comforted me, saying it’s OK.

Melodie finally released me, allowing me to separate from her. I laid on my side, looking at her as she looked back. She smiled.

“Do you wish you were a girl, Teddy?”

I looked at her, unsure what to say, and finally, I asked, “Was this want you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, my sweet girl,” she said and we embraced again. “What do you think? It’s OK to tell me. It’s just between us.”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to be a boy,” I blubbered.

“When are you the happiest?” she asked.

I instantly knew the answer, but dare I confess it? I just looked at Melodie and began to smile. She kissed me softly.

“I think you’re happiest as a girl,” she answered for me.

I guess my smile must have grown broader. It was true; seeing myself in the dress made me feel happy, even natural. Melodie hugged me again and I eagerly surrendered myself to her warm embrace.

“I like you as a girl,” she said.

It was nearly eight o’clock and I knew mom would be coming to pick me up. I hurriedly got up from the warm bed, cleaned myself up, put on my clothes and was still gathering my book bag when mom’s Chevy Malibu pulled up in front of Melodie’s house.

*****
I wasn’t planning on going to the Holiday Dance on the last Friday before the Christmas break, but Mitzi invited me to join them.

“Not many kids in our class are hooked up so we just go in groups and hangout. You’ll just be one of the kids,” Mitzi said.

“Won’t Heather and Melodie hate me tagging along?”

“Nah, Melodie’s the one who suggested it and you know Heather adores you,” my sister said.

When the four of us entered the gym, the three girls were wearing cute dresses that ended in mid-thigh, exposing their pretty legs in black tights. I wore tight, black pants and a white satiny shirt I borrowed from Mitzi. It was an androgynous shirt and the only thing that gave it away were how you hooked up the buttons. She also supplied a black string tie to embellish it.

“Teddy, we got to do something about your hair. It’s grown so long now. You look too girly in that outfit with your long hair.”

“Don’t cut it?” I said, alarmed.

“Mom wishes you’d get it cut,” she said.

In the end, she tied my hair into a ponytail that we both hoped would create a more masculine look.

“Your face needs a little color,” Mitzi said. “It’s so pale.

I looked into the mirror, and agreed. She applied a bit of blush, nothing too noticeable, thankfully, and then put on a bit of lip gloss and eye shadow.

“There,” she said, satisfied.

“Isn’t that a bit too girly?” I asked, examining myself in the mirror.

“It makes you handsome,” she said, smiling.

Nonetheless, I was uneasy. I looked far less a boy than I do on school days, when I let my hair hang straggly, as so many long-haired boys do, and kept my face empty of any makeup.

As is the case with so many school dances, there were few kids dancing at first and those usually were the kids who came with dates. Most of us, however, came in groups of boys or groups of girls and then gathered in bunches, all girls in one area and all boys in the other, each eyeing up the other and gossiping about who of the other gender might want to dance with them. Eventually, a few girls drifted on the floor to dance together while the boys sat on the sidelines, watching them, usually laughing when one of their mates criticized some girl who might be too tall, too fat or too outlandishly dressed.

Heather and Mitzi soon joined the growing throng of dancers and Melodie turned to me, “What say? Shall we?”

“No, I can’t dance,” I demurred.

“Yes, you can,” she said, dragging me onto the floor, joining the other dancers on the floor, most of whom were girls dancing together. Melodie and me were one of the few boy-girl couples on the floor. Why was it, I wondered, that boys were so reluctant to dance?

The DJ was playing a mixture of 1970’s cover tunes and hard rock, all of which I had little trouble bouncing to; I was impressed with how lightly Melodie was on her feet and her quick athletic moves inspired me so that after several moments we were attracting attention with our steps. “Wow, you girls can really dance,” one sandy-haired boy commented as the music paused and we stood panting with exhaustion.

I looked briefly at the boy, shocked to realize it was Ricky Pearson who was in my English class. “Let’s get a drink,” I suggested to Melodie after the song ended.

Without looking at Ricky, we retreated from the floor, Melodie gripping my arm as we walked off. “Who said you can’t dance?” she said.

“I never had been to a dance before.”

“Well, we dazzled them, Teddy,” she said.

We got our drinks and I led Melodie to an out-of-the-way corner with several empty chairs. I needed to rest after that vigorous dance though I doubt Melodie was hardly winded. I felt ashamed for my weak, unmuscular body.

“He thought I was a girl and he’s in my English class. He knows me since we sit fairly close to each other and we’ve talked a bit. What if he . . .?”

“I doubt he’ll notice anything, Teddy. It was too dark in there,” she reassured me.

I stayed nestled with the girls the rest of the dance, trying to hide myself as much as possible. I decided that I had no choice but to continue the charade that I was a girl for the period of the dance. I loosened my hair out of its ponytail so that it hung freely and made me look more convincingly feminine. I stayed off the dance floor, but began chatting with whoever was nearby if one of my companions were off dancing. I giggled with them and found myself having a great time. Most of the time, however, I spent talking with Melodie as both Mitzi and Heather had linked up with two boys they knew. She continued to snuggle close to me and we may have been an odd sight: she was a couple inches taller than I was and obviously much huskier. I was slender, almost dainty in contrast. I saw several girls eyeing us up critically during the evening, sometimes leaning to their friends to point us out. One girl shook her head in disgust, and several seemed to laugh.

“They think we’re lesbians, Teddy,” Melodie whispered.

“Lesbians?” I looked at her in shock.

“It’s kind of exciting,” she said, quickly reassuring me that it was nothing to worry about. No one would recognize me as the boy Theodore who would show up for class after the seasonal holiday break.

I began to wonder what was happening to me.

*****
The dance ended at nine-thirty, and the four of us stopped for pizza at Za-Za’s, a popular place for kids from Madison High. I suggested we go somewhere else, largely because I was afraid that I’d be recognized as Theodore the boy who was looking girlish. The girls would have none of it. “We gotta go there,” Mitzi persisted.

We were there only a few minutes when I noticed a group of boys come in. Among them was Leo Higgins, an older boy who Mitzi had danced and chatted with much of the evening. I hoped he didn’t see us; of course, he couldn’t miss us, since Mitzi stood up and waved to get his attention. He saw her, waved back and left the group of his friends and came to the table. It was obvious to me that Mitzi insisted on going to Za-Za’s since she’d probably set it up with Leo at the dance. I tried to hide my face by keeping my head down and looking into the menu. I hoped Mitzi would flirt with him enough to keep him from noticing me, and, of course, she did just that. It was almost embarrassing the way my sister gushed all over him, but I didn’t blame her. What’s not to gush over? Leo was tall, slender, dark haired and had an unshaven face, giving him a rugged, tough boy look. My, oh my, he looked hot!

Melodie had moved so that she sat tightly up against me as we shared one side of the booth at Za-Za’s. Our thighs touched and I saw her watch me closely.

Fortunately, I could see Leo was as infatuated with Mitzi as she was with him; he only perfunctorily noticed any of us. They chatted for a few minutes and then Mitzi took a pen she had in her small purse, tore off a bit of the paper placemat and scribbled what appeared to be her phone number. She gave it to him, he smiled and then left to join his friends.

“Wow, he’s hot, Mitzi. How did you snag him?” asked Heather, who with Mitzi shared the opposite seat in the booth.

“What a hunk!” I agreed.

The three girls looked at me in surprise. I blushed.

“You’re thinking like a girl,” Melodie responded.

“Oh my God,” I said, growing red in the face. I was thinking like a girl, wasn’t I?

*****
Mitzi and I got home that night after eleven o’clock, but thankfully mom wasn’t home. I had realized that even though the makeup on my face was modest, I had truly looked like a girl. Wearing Mitzi’s blouse didn’t help, of course.

“Guess mom’s out with the Perkins guy again,” Mitzi said.

“You think she’s in love with him, Mitzi?” I asked.

“Who knows? It’s her first serious boyfriend since dad died. Five years, that’s a long time.”

“But he’s kind of boring,” I ventured.

“Whatever, but let’s get that makeup off you before she does get home,” Mitzi said.

She was right, of course. Mom had been pushing me harder to get my hair cut and to try to get me more interested in acting like a boy.

The next morning mom quizzed us as to how we enjoyed the dance. “Did you meet up with any of your friends, Teddy?” mom asked me.

“Oh, she hung with us, mom,” Mitzi said, before I could answer.

“She? Who did? I was asking about Teddy, not some other girl,” mom said.

“Did I say she? I meant he, Teddy. He kinda stayed with us,” she said.

“How would you know? You were all hot over that Leo guy,” I retorted.

“I was not. I had to dance with him ‘cause he asked me and I was only being nice,” she said.

“Hah! You lie. You followed after him like a puppy dog. You were pathetic,” I said.

“Now, now, kids,” mom said. “Didn’t you meet up with anyone you like, Teddy?”

“I just stayed with Mitzi and her friends, but I did dance with Melodie,” I said, trying to give mom an answer that might please her.

“I wish you had some guy friends, Teddy,” mom said. “It’s just not normal to be around girls so much.”

“Well, we always seem to have fun,” I said.

“You’re spending too much time on your computer and it seems the only time you go out is with Mitzi and her friends. Half the time I think I’m raising two girls in this house,” she had complained recently.

“Don’t bug him, mom,” Mitzi said, defending me. “We had a good time last night, mom.”

“Did you, Theodore?” mom asked.

“Yeah.”

We were eating breakfast when the conversation began and I kept my head down, looking at the bowl of yogurt and granola before me. Recently I had quit eating Captain Crunch and began following Mitzi’s eating habits. Like most teen girls, she was worried about getting fat even though she had a trim figure, having shed nearly all of her baby fat. I had begun worrying about my weight too, though I was hardly overweight. I had noticed my tummy growing soft and flabby. When I sat, a little roll of fat developed and my mushy thighs spread out on the seat. A little strenuous exercise, I knew, would probably help.

The conversation was interrupted thankfully by a phone call. Mitzi picked up the wall phone receiver. “It’s for you mom,” she said with a wink. “It’s him.”

Mom gave her a sharp look. “Him is James. Mr. Perkins to you. I’ll take the call on the extension, and don’t you dare listen in.”

“Yes, mom.”

Mitzi had a devilish look on her face, thinking she could fake hanging up the phone without her mother realizing it.

“Don’t do it Mitzi. You don’t like it when mom listens in on your calls or tries to check your cell phone calls.”

Reluctantly, she hung up the phone. “You’re such a goody two-shoes, Theodora,” she said, using the girl’s name she and her friends had attached to me.

I stuck out my tongue at her and she giggled.

*****
After dad died, mom was able to get a job as a machine operator at the local tractor factory; it was a good-paying union job and many weeks of the year there was plenty of overtime. Mitzi and I knew we had to help mom out as much as we could, even though I was only nine at the time and Mitzi only twelve. Mom’s work was tiring, largely due to the pace of it, but if we were to stay in our house, she needed it to pay the mortgage. Dad had worked as an independent trucker and had been unable to provide much insurance protection for us.

One of our chores was to do the laundry on Saturday mornings.

As Mitzi was preparing the washer, I sorted the clothes in preparation. I held up one of mom’s slips, a particularly delicate lace-trimmed model; I’d always thought the slip to be especially pretty.

“I bet you’d like to wear it, Theodora,” Mitzi said, catching me admiring the piece of lingerie.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it. Bet James likes seeing mom in it,” I said.

“You think he has seen her in it? Yucky,” Mitzi said.

I scowled. The thought of mom being in her lingerie in front of a man other than our dad also bothered me.

“You’d look lovely in it Theodora,” Mitzi said.

I guess I must have blushed, because Mitzi giggled before turning her attention to the controls on the washing machine. “Hand me all the light stuff, Teddy.”

When she had loaded the machine, and turned it on, she took me to a corner of the basement where we had set up a table and chairs. We used to play in the area when we were younger, often playing house.

“Let me ask you something, Teddy, and be honest with me,” Mitzi said.

“What?” I asked, wary of the question.

“Well, don’t take this wrong, Teddy, but I’ve been seeing a lot on the Internet about guys who want to be girls. Are you like that?”

I didn’t want to answer that question. I really didn’t know what I wanted. I knew I liked being with girls and I liked how I looked in dresses. And, I knew I didn’t do really boy stuff, like playing sports, but maybe that was because I was so pathetic at those games.

“Come on Teddy, I want to help you,” she said. “I know we fight sometimes, but I love you whether you are my little brother or maybe even my little sister.”

“I dunno,” I mumbled.

“OK, Teddy, but just remember you can talk to me anytime and it’ll be just our secret, right?”

“OK, Mitty,” I said, using the name I called her when I was very young and had trouble pronouncing the “z” in her name.

“You’re so cute,” she said, hugging me.

I smiled at her. Cute? Did she mean that as in cute girl?

“Do you really think I’d look lovely in mom’s slip?” I blurted out without thinking.

It caught Mitzi by surprise, but she quickly recovered. “You’d be adorable, little sister,” she said smiling.

I responded with a little feminine twirl on the concrete floor and she grabbed me and hugged me.

*****
Three days later, Melodie caught me as I was leaving school; we both lived close enough that we could walk to and from school and she asked me if she could walk with me.

“Sure, but I thought you walked with Heather,” I said.

“She’s had to take a make-up test, and I just had to see you,” she said.

We walked down Maple Street, heading in the direction of both of our homes, before we’d have to split apart at 12th Avenue.

“That Stephanie from Suzie’s called me last night. Remember her?” she asked.

“Sure.” How could I forget her and how she gushed all over me in the mint green dress?

“Well, she wants me to try out to be a model,” Melodie said. “Isn’t that the craziest? Me as a model?”

“That’s great,” I said, a bit mystified that Melodie could be considered model material.

Melodie giggled. “Well, I’d be a model for their plus sizes.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Melodie, you are pretty, you know.”

“And, Theodora,” she said. “She wants you, too.”

“For what?”

“For modeling, you silly girl. What else? You remember she mentioned it to you, don’t you?”

“She did,” I said. I was elated and felt I should skip girlishly down the sidewalk waving my hands in glee. Quickly, however, reality set in.

“But, how can I? I’m a boy. And mom would have to know.”

“Stephanie didn’t have your phone number,” Melodie said. “That’s why she asked me to tell you to call her. You should have her number.”

I nodded that I had her number. For some weird reason, I had saved Stephanie’s card, even though the idea of me modeling girls’ outfit seem downright outlandish at the time. Well, a girl can dream, can’t she?

“Are you going to call her?” Melodie pressed. “I understand auditions won’t be until January, after the Christmas rush is over.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll have to tell mom everything, and what’ll happen when kids at school learn about it? I’ll get beat up or something.”

“Call Stephanie anyway and tell her that you’re thinking about it, OK?” she urged.

“I guess so,” was all I said as we split off at 12th Avenue, each heading to our own homes. I walked in a daydream, alternately drifting between images of Theodora, a lovely girl, walking down a runway in a strapless gown, and the anger of my mother when hearing that her son is to be a model for teen girl clothes. I reveled in the image of Theodora in a fashionable dress, drawing a chorus of “oohs” and “ahs” from young women gushing at the beautifully feminine model in a fashionable dress. It could become a reality, I thought. Yet, I hesitated. I didn’t call Stephanie that afternoon. I’d sleep on it.

After I finished my homework, I began searching on my computer, typing in the words, “Boys Modeling Girl Clothes.” I was astounded when the name, Andreij Pejic, popped up. He’s a guy, but you couldn’t tell from the pictures of him modeling new outfits at a Paris Fashion Show; from all I could see, he was just one of the pretty feminine models. A little further research found other pretty boys and young men posing as models. It got me to thinking. What if?

That night, I got a text from Melodie. It said simply, “DO IT.”

I tortured myself over my decision; Christmas was approaching. Maybe it was best that I decide this question after Christmas, I felt. I wanted to do it so badly, but I was afraid to admit it to anyone, even myself. I didn’t call Stephanie that day.

*****
Later, Mitzi and I worked together to prepare supper for mom; it had become routine for the two of us to fix the meal since mom rarely got home before six o’clock. Not only did she work lots of overtime at the plant, but she had been elected a steward and bargaining committee member for her union local that added to her time away from home.

Mom often lamented over having her teenage children prepare the meals, always apologizing about her failure to be home, but we both knew of her interest in her labor union and in Democratic politics. “I think it takes the sting out of her boring job in the plant,” Mitzi explained.

We both always told mom we didn’t resent the time spent doing housework, but I know Mitzi did sometimes grumble about it. I have to admit I liked doing it; usually by the time we had to get into the kitchen, I would have spent much of the after-school time doing homework and was ready for a break. Not having any friends – except for Mitzi, Heather and Melodie – I found meal-preparation a convenient time for the two of us to share about what was happening in our lives. Sometimes, we argued, but then, what brother and sister don’t?

“You don’t have to always be so fussy about how we set the table,” Mitzi complained. I had gone around the table placing the silverware in its proper position around our three plates. Mitzi had merely put the knives, forks and spoons in a clump on the table.

“I want to make it look nice for mom,” I protested.

“Gosh, you flit around like a girl,” she said derisively.

“I just want our table to be pretty.”

Mitzi put her hand on my arm, stopping my progress. “Speaking of being a girl, why don’t you try it out for real? You’re happiest when you’re with us. Melodie told me that Suzie’s still wants you as a model. You should do it.”

“What? You’re kidding, Mitzi. No way.”

“Sure, why not? It’s good money and we need it,” she said.

“You can’t be serious,” I said. “I just dressed up that way to please you and your friends. It was just for fun.”

“You loved it, Theordora. I never saw you so happy before.”

“No. Mom would have to approve and she’ll have a fit. I’m not a girl. I’m a boy.”

Mitzi smiled. “I’m not sure what you are, Teddy. But you know I care about you and I wouldn’t hurt you. All I know is that you seemed to enjoy every minute you spend as a girl.”

“I’ll think about it,” was all I said.

“Why don’t you call Stephanie after supper? The store stays open until nine.”

I turned my back on her and went to the refrigerator to get some lettuce. “I need to get the salad started,” I said.

As I assembled the lettuce, cut the green pepper, sliced the tomatoes and tossed it all in a bowl, I smiled to myself. Again, the image of lovely Theodora in her mint green dress flooded my mind.

*****
My heart raced as I held my cell phone in my hand. I debated with myself about dialing the number of Suzie’s Teen Fashions. My mind told me to forget it. No way could I model girl teen outfits. Yet, I knew I would eventually punch in the number.

My hands shook as I pecked out the seven digits. The phone rang for six times and I was considering hanging up when a rushed voice said, “Suzie’s Fashions. Can you hold for a minute?” Even before I could answer, I was put on hold and some scratchy jazz music entered my ear. It seemed an eternity and I again considered hanging up and forgetting the whole business.

“Yes, we’re sorry for the delay. How can I help you?” a heavy breathing female voice said.

“Ah . . . er . . .”

“Yes,” the voice said impatiently.

“Is . . . ah . . . Stephanie there?”

“Speaking.”

“Miss Stephanie,” I stammered. “This is . . . ah . . . Teddy . . . er . . . Theodora Rushing. Melodie said I should call you.”

“Theodora, yes. I’ve wanted to hear from you. I’m sorry if I sound rushed here, but you know it’s Christmas shopping season.”

“That’s alright, I’ll call be later,” I said, still worried that I was doing the right thing.

“No. No. No. I’ll take time for you, my dear. I’d really like to see you again, you know, for modeling. From what I saw of you that other day, you’re a natural for it, but of course we’d have to look at you more closely and to interview you. You understand.”

“Oh yes. I’m sure you have lots of other girls who are prettier than me.”

I could hear Stephanie laugh. “Well, I doubt that, from what I saw. You carried yourself so naturally in the green dress you liked so much.”

“Really? Thank you, Miss Stephanie.”

“Have you asked your parents yet? They need to give you permission and I should talk to them about your payment and all that.”

“No, and mom might not approve. I’m only fourteen. And there’s only mom; my dad died.”

“I’m sorry about that. Tell you what. You clear this with your mom. We’ll talk again on the week after Christmas. OK?”

“OK, I’ll talk to her.”

I no sooner had hung up than Mitzi barged into my room. I looked up. I felt so pleased with myself.

“Did you call her?” Mitzi asked excitedly.

“Yes and she said I was so pretty and there were few girls as pretty as I was,” I said, rising from my desk chair and doing a little girlish twirl.

“See? I told you so, little sister,” she said, grabbing me and hugging me hard.

We both began giggling. “This is so weird,” I said.

“You’re making me so jealous, my beautiful little brother who is prettier than all the girls in town.”

It was absurd, wasn’t it? A boy being so pretty?