I awoke to the sound of rain gently pattering against the window. Today didn't look like a good day to be doing anything outside. The alarm hadn't gone off and Helen lay sleeping, her face looking as angelic as ever. There was no sign of the torture that I knew that she wanted to put me through. Many people, including our parents, would have frowned upon us sleeping in the same bed, but without the comfort that we gave each other we would be basket cases. Not only did we keep each other sane but we looked out for each other. There was no chance of committing suicide with someone lying next to you. We hadn't broken any laws as the law was against underage sex, though I'm sure that they might try to say we'd committed assault against each other. The school rules say we have to keep our underwear on. We'd complied and even undressed in our own rooms. I hadn't even seen a glimpse of Helen in her underwear. Damn.

Looking back at the clock, I saw we'd another hour before it was time to get up. I'd only been here a few days and I was already running on school time. This school had produced several surprises and some children would have freaked out about it. Not me. I was safe here. Here I'd found love and here I would be able to grow as a person; not just exist but live.

"How long before we have to get up?" Helen mumbled, as she stirred from her angelic slumber.

"About an hour."

"Then stop thinking and snuggle up," she commanded. Who was I to refuse such an order?

As the alarm sounded I didn't want to leave Helen's arms. I could have stayed there all day and been content. However, I heard her tummy rumble and knew there would be no chance of skipping breakfast. I think Helen, like Lewis, was ruled by her stomach. Though I've got to admit the food was a lot better than I got at home.

As we got to the table I noticed that a few places had letters on them. Mine was one. I wasn't expecting a letter from home. My parents always had better things to do, Dad drinking and Mum watching soaps. I'd sent and got an email from Eric so I wasn't expecting a letter from him.

I sat down and when I picked up the envelope I recognised the scrawl. Mum had written. My Mum who could never be bothered to read the letters from school had actually spent the time and effort to write to me. I put it in my pocket to read later when alone or just with Helen. I had no secrets from Helen and she was well aware of my parents.

During breakfast Keith announced, "The upper years normally run this as a competition to see who is the most passable. Mr Hobson has decided that this is a good idea, so there will be a competition for each year. Most passable male, most passable female and most passable androgynous; passing doesn't just include looks but also behaviour. You can't enter a category you normally live in, so Sam won't be able to win as the best androgynous person. Oh and something you might not have thought about, you will need to choose appropriate names. For instance Richard is a boy's name so on Monday while you're dressed as a girl you will need to choose a girls name."

This added a bit more excitement to the table and a bit of bantering about who would be best. I tried to think of a girls name but drew a blank. Monday is certainly going to be more difficult than I first thought. Perhaps seeing Sam in female and male mode will make it easier to tell what sex Sam really is. Though looking at the way Lewis looked and behaved, I'd never have been able to tell that he was born female.

Being the weekend, the choice of what to do was our own. I didn't fancy walking in the rain to the swimming pool, though it was a possibility if the rain stopped. Most other sports, such as tennis, I wasn't very good at and the rain would make them impossible.

As we finished eating Helen announced, "With all this rain I think I might try practicing dressing for Monday. I doubt I'll be good enough to win the prize but I don't want to look silly. David has promised to help me."

"And Helen will help me," I said.

"The other years won't laugh at us, will they?" asked Brian.

"Of course not," reassured Keith. "All the students will be cross-dressed and know what it is like to do it for the first time. We have never done a Mix-up Monday so early in the school year before. We did it earlier than usual as we thought you were a group that could cope or even need this early on.

"Emma and Paula," I said addressing the two girls, "since you are both girls, do you need male input with any practice?"

"I'm also willing to help," chimed in Brian.

"Me too," said Lewis. "I know a lot about making a girl look masculine."

Emma turned white and looked very frightened. Paula gave her a slight nudge which Emma ignored. When she got a second, slightly firmer nudge, I decided to help out.

"Are you okay Emma?" I asked. "You don't look well."

Emma took a sip of water and reluctantly said, "I won't need help dressing as a boy; I did it for the first ten years of my life. I don't think things will have changed in the last three years."

There was a stunned silence and Paula comforted Emma who couldn't hold in the tears any longer. I looked and couldn't see any sign of a boy. There was no way I'll look that feminine for Monday.

"Oh yes you could," whispered Helen to me. "You could look that feminine."

"Stop reading my mind," I hissed back, but gave her hand a friendly pat to show I wasn't serious.

"They'll hate me," sobbed Emma. "They'll all think I'm a freak, just like the people at my past school."

"No we won't," replied Richard. "Telling us was very brave and probably very hard to do. Why should we hate you? You saw last Tuesday that my brother was now my sister and that I didn't have a problem with that. Why should I have a problem with you?"

Richard got up and gave Emma a hug. I thought that was a great idea and did the same. Eventually everyone on the table had hugged Emma. "Thank you. Thank you all for this," she wept, but this time it was tears of relief and happiness. "Thank you too Paula for persuading me to tell everyone."

"Why don't we all do something together after lunch?" suggested Sam. "If it's still raining, why don't we watch a movie?"

We all agreed that would be a good idea. Emma's revelation showed how little we knew about each other and how little trust we had left to give.

As we started to leave, Rachel came up to us. "Helen and David, why don't we have that chat now?"

"Thank you," said a relieved Helen.

We silently followed Rachel to her office, where we were ushered to sit onto the nice comfy settee.

"David's message last night was quite intriguing; that you wanted to discuss sexuality rather than gender. I take it that you were having a discussion last night which has raised some questions that you wanted advice on?"

"Since I see myself as a girl and also see David as a girl, then am I a lesbian? I didn't think so because David is physically male, however David says that is irrelevant."

"It isn't the physical stuff that is important; it is how you feel in your soul. Clothes and the physical body are irrelevant. It's the soul, the fundamental feeling that is more important."

"Tell me more," pressed Rachel, sitting forward on her seat.

"Well, clothes keep you warm and are there to give other people an impression about you. The body is just a tool that houses your soul."

Rachel just stared at me in total wonder. "Where did you get that idea from?"

"It came to me last night, as we discussed Helen's sexuality. Am I talking crap?"

"So why do you think that people want to have sex-change operations?" asked Rachel ignoring my question.

"As people like to have clothes that match their moods and feelings, people like to have a body that match their soul."

"Is that why you appear more relaxed about Monday?"

"I'm still very nervous, due to how I've previously been treated. However, I'm not freaking out like before. Monday is just about clothes and presentation, it doesn't change who or what I am."

"We appear to have gone a bit back to gender, but I think I understand how you relate this to sexuality. You David are physically male but Helen thinks you have the soul of a female. You think that makes Helen a lesbian and I presume Helen disagrees. Is that right?"

"Yes," Helen and I agreed simultaneously.

"Great. Now I have that understood, what is the issue?"

"Well it's sort of two questions," answered Helen. "First, am I a lesbian and second, if I am will that mean that I go to Hell instead of Heaven?"

"Well only you know how you feel. If you feel that you are sleeping with a girl then you would be what some people describe as a lesbian. However, it is up to you if you want to use that label. Isn't it more important that you are in a loving relationship? You love David and David loves you. Is a label that important?"

"But if I'm a lesbian then I'll go to Hell," panicked Helen. "Also my parents will kill me if they find out."

"Helen, its okay," reassured Rachel. "You aren't the first person to worry about this and you won't be the last. Why don't you have a word with our vicar George Trent? It won't have been the first time he's discussed this and is very open to these discussions. I'll have a word with him and I'll send you a note. Last time he discussed this early in the morning, a few hours before the service. In the meantime don't worry about it; you are who you are. Just be true to yourself."

"Thanks," said Helen, who sounded only a little better. Her voice was still tinged with concern.

"In the last few days you've met some of the other students. While church isn't compulsory, there is a very high percentage that goes. I know that you, Helen, used to attend regularly. Do you intend to attend tomorrow? Also what about you David, will you go?"

I gave Helen's hand a slight squeeze to signal my intent.

"We'll both be going," said Helen for both of us. I know she would want to go and I wanted to be with her.

"How are you both feeling about Monday?" Rachel asked us both.

"Till last night, I was very upset about it," I confessed. "However, when I thought about it I realised that it is just clothes. They don't change who I am inside. I'll still be me, even if I will have to act differently."

"Not that differently," snorted Helen. "For somebody who is good at watching others, you certainly don't understand yourself."

"Are you saying my actions are feminine?"

Helen nodded. This I couldn't believe. I looked enquiringly at Rachel who after a moment's hesitation also nodded.

"Is that why I was beaten up? I'm to blame for not being more masculine."

"No, you're not to blame," reassured Rachel. "There is no excuse for threats like that. You are who you are and people should respect that."

"Well it certainly looks like I've got a lot to learn about myself," I said thinking about my life. I wonder if my brother or parents knew that I didn't appear to be as masculine as I thought I had. I suppose Eric might have, but my parents were too busy in their own lives to notice.

"That's one of the aims of running Mix-up Monday's," informed Rachel. "Helen, do you think you've got anything to learn on Monday?"

"I know I don't want to be a boy, so I'm not sure," she relied confidently.

"But David was also confident that he didn't want to be a girl. Just go through Monday with an open mind and try to experience as much as you can. I'm not saying you will want to be a boy and I'm not saying that David should be a girl. Just that you both should take this opportunity to experience things you have never experienced before. Look at it as a way to better understand people like Emma and Lewis, who do want to change their sex."

Rachel paused for a moment for everything to sink in. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?" When we both shook our heads, we were dismissed.

As the door to Rachel's office closed I asked Helen, "Can we go back to our rooms?" As her eyes lit up I hurriedly continued, "Not to practice for Monday but I think I need to lie-down. This was a bit much."

"Sure," she replied lightly, letting go of my hand and wrapping her arm around me.

I felt my eyes start to fill and quickened my pace. I didn't want to break down in the hall.

"We'll soon be there," reassured Helen, as we turned into the sleeping wing.

Once in the room I didn't even bother to remove my shoes, I just fell onto my bed and let the stress of the last hour pour out of my eyes. Why me? What had I done to be so badly made? Was this punishment because I wasn't able to go to church very often? Was it because I never did any male things like football or rugby?

I opened my eyes to find my pillow wet. I felt a bit strange and concluded that I must have fallen asleep. I felt an arm gently wrapped around me and wriggled back a bit to cuddle further into Helen. She didn't say anything but gently stroked my face.

"I'm such a failure," I eventually said. "You'd be better off finding someone who isn't such damaged goods."

"Remember what you said last night, about clothes and body not being important. Well it is your soul, your essence that I love. I love the way you love me, the way you help people without thinking. You were the one that got help for Jill, and was the first to offer Emma and Paula help for Monday."

"Sorry that I broke down. I was just so shocked and thought that I'd been living a lie all these years. I was also worried that you wouldn't love me anymore, which was silly really as you already see me as a girl."

"I'm not going to leave you.

As I got off the bed I felt something in my pocket. I fished out the letter that had arrived this morning and looked at the envelope. It was definitely my Mum's writing.

"Who's the letter from?" asked Helen, as she got up from the bed.

"My Mum."

"Are you going to open it?"

I gently opened the envelope, not wanting to rip the letter inside. As I unfolded the letter I noticed that it was indeed from Mum. The size of the letter shocked me; it wasn't just a note but covered three pages.

"I didn't think that your Mum liked to write?"

"She doesn't. I don't really understand it."

"Why don't you read it while I nip to the toilet?"

I settled down and began to try to distinguish Mum's hieroglyphics.

Dear David,

I hope that you are settled into your new school okay. Eric has tried to show me how to use the email system but I found it too difficult. He offered to type what I wanted to send and he will in the future. This letter however, is just between you and me; you must never tell Dad or Eric what's in the letter.

After your interview with Dr Ruiz you mentioned Uncle James. This letter should explain a bit about your Uncle which I didn't tell you the other week.

James used to dress in my clothes and try to make his already feminine looks even more feminine. He wanted nothing more than to be a girl that he knew he was inside. While he was at school he used to get teased for his gentle and kind nature. At home, when we were alone, I helped him become what he was inside. We hid this from our parents as they would never understand.

Uncle James wanted to be a girl? Why didn't Mum tell me about this the other night?

I blamed myself for his death. If I hadn't helped him perhaps he wouldn't have killed himself. As you grew up I saw that you were just like James and tried to distance myself. Before James killed himself I used to be a smart outgoing girl. Part of me died when he killed himself. I withdrew myself and didn't take any of my exams. I don't think that I could live with myself if you also killed yourself.

Gentle tears started to trickle down my cheeks, as I thought of the impact her brother's death had on Mum. I couldn't imagine the grief and guilt she must have felt to withdraw herself like that. My mind started to whirl in confusion on what she'd said and implied. Mum must have truly loved her brother to have helped him keep such a secret. But why did he kill himself? Was I that similar to Uncle James? Why does Mum think I would want to kill myself? This doesn't make sense.

I'd been terribly wrong. I thought that Mum was an uncaring mother who wanted nothing to do with me. For the last twenty years she had carried this guilt in her heart and was hoping that I wouldn't kill myself. Poor Mum must have been in torture for the last few years as it became obvious that I was like her brother.

As you grew up you reminded me of my brother and you were a constant reminder of the fact that I failed to save his life. I knew what was wrong with James and how it worried him. A week before James killed himself he talked to me about how he saw no future for himself. I didn't understand him properly and agreed that he had no future. The next time he was alone he slashed his wrists. I was the one who found him sitting in a bath of blood. I found out later that it would have taken ten minutes for him to become unconscious and another twenty minutes to die.

Oh my God. I've heard of horrible ways to die but that must be the worst. To slash your own wrists and take so long to die must be awful. The pain as the blood gushes out must have been tremendous. I can't imagine the anguish that Uncle James must have been in to sit through all that. What must have been going through his mind as his life slowly slipped away.

Since Mum saw no future for Uncle James as a boy and she things I'm like Uncle James, does she think I should be a girl? Is she saying I don't have any future as a man?

James killed himself on his sixteenth birthday and since you and he were so similar I'm worried that you might also commit suicide. I didn't want you to die like your Uncle had so I persuaded your father to agree to you going to Hayfield Hall. After the meeting with Dr Ruiz I had a private word with her and told her about James. She was the first person that I'd told since his death. There was just something about Dr Ruiz that I was able to open up to her. She told me to tell you in a letter about James as it would help you.

Since you've left home I've joined the library and tried to find out information regarding James's condition. He was what is described as a transsexual and it is not curable. The only treatment for his condition is to become the girl he was inside. I don't recommend that you try it at school, as I doubt they would understand, but if, after you've finished school you do need to be a girl, just like he did, then I give you my blessing.

If you'd have been born a girl you would have been called Jayne Laura Grant.

Love

Mum

Oh my God, oh my God, no. My Mum, my own mother, thinks I should become a girl. Am I that blind to myself? Did my Dad and brother also think this about me? What am I to do? Is Monday just the start of my life as a girl? What if I do like it? What if I don't? What am I? Who am I? What should I do? Should I do anything?

As the thoughts of my life crashed through my mind, my body's reaction got worse. The tears of heartache over my Mum's letter gave way to the torrent that lay beyond. The sluice gate opened and the tears flooded down. My connection with the world ceased to matter as I tried to make sense of what I'd been told.

* * *

My eyes slowly fluttered open. I tried to lift my head slightly but felt dizzy so I lay back down. The room looked blurry so I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.

As I opened my eyes this time the room looked clearer; the fog had gone. I felt that I was being closely held. I would recognise those arms anywhere, there mixture of firmness and tenderness was unique. "Helen, why are we in bed?"

"I came back from the toilet to find you bawling over the letter. I tried for ages to comfort you, but you didn't respond; you just kept crying. You were worse than Jill was the other night. In the end I had no choice but to call Rachel, who was in this sleeping wing anyway. She was here in less than a minute. She saw how bad you were and gave you a mild sedative. That was five hours ago."

"Where's Rachel now?"

"I'm here," said Rachel. I looked up and there she was sitting on the settee. "Is it okay if I read your Mum's letter, so I can better understand?"

"Yes. But I thought you already knew about my Uncle?"

"I knew certain details. However, I need to know what your Mum actually said and how she said it."

"Go ahead. Then pass it to Helen to read."

"I've already read it," confessed Helen. "I read it to try and help you. I was in tears reading it myself. I won't read your stuff again without permission."

"You always have my permission. Remember, no secrets."

"Well, that explains things," said Rachel, as she finished reading my Mum's letter. "How do you feel now?"

"I feel strange, which isn't unusual after I've slept during the day. I remember reading Mums letter and then trying to reach some conclusions about it. I don't remember much else. However, I do feel hungry."

"If it's any comfort, Helen missed lunch as well.

I collapsed on my bed in a mock faint. Helen is ruled by her tummy, so to miss lunch so she could be with me was very touching. Helen forced me to stay lying down and cuddled into me. I felt so safe in her arms. I wish she'd been there when I'd read the letter. Nothing bad would have happened then.

"How do you feel about your Uncle?"

"I felt sorry that he felt that there was no other option. Things must have been harder back then. Today, with the internet, information about things is easier to get hold of. Without knowing where to turn, he probably felt he had no option."

I started crying a bit, as I thought of the way Uncle James killed himself. Helen tightened her grip on me in a vain attempt to squeeze out the sadness. "I just wish he hadn't killed himself in such a horrible way. I keep seeing someone sitting in a growing pool of blood, with his life slowly ebbing away. All he had to do was get out of the bath and dial 999 and he would have still been here. His pain must have been horrendous to put himself through what he did."

"Do you want to kill yourself?"

My heartbeat quickened. Oh how I used to think about killing myself. How I used to plan every aspect of how I would be found hanging from a tree in my main tormentors back garden. But those feeling were gone. I now had feelings of love, hope and joy.

"No. I don't want to kill myself. I was shocked what my Mum said, especially the bit about her accepting me if I did want to be a girl."

"Have you ever wanted to kill yourself?"

Why did she have to ask that question? Should I tell her the truth, or deny like mad. If I deny and she finds out the truth then all trust is lost. However, is she likely to find out? But Helen's here and I don't want her to hear a lie.

"Yes, but not anymore."

"Why did you want to kill yourself?"

"Because there was no point in living," I replied, my stomach giving groans of protest. "My life wasn't as rosy as it is now. I used to constantly watch what was happening and who was watching me. I could never be a success at anything, or I'd be beaten up. To live I just tried to melt into the woodwork. I had to stop being me and act a part. Everyday a little bit more of me died. I hadn't reached the breaking point, but Mum was correct, I would have taken my life, just like Uncle James."

"What would you do if you did feel suicidal?"

"I doubt I would, but if I did I'd talk with Helen or someone else. I wouldn't let it fester."

"So what do you think about your Mum thinking you should be a girl?"

"Well she doesn't exactly say I should be a girl, but I will admit she implies it. Several people have now said how much I look or act like a girl. This is just another one. I'm sure Mix-up Monday is a technique you use so that we get to experience things we might have been scared to try. Therefore, I plan to go through Monday with an open mind."

"So you still want to take part on Monday. I can excuse you based on your recent news."

"No. I said I would do it, and I will."

All this time Helen had kept quiet. She just lay next to me, providing all the comfort I needed. However, she now decided to break her silence. "If David starts to feel low about dressing, then I will stop him practicing. I'm not going to risk David's health for anything, including my own fantasies."

"Okay," said Rachel after a few moments thought. "I'll leave you to it. I'll also let the other six know you're okay."

When Rachel was gone I said to Helen, "Tonight, I'm going to write a letter to Mum and thank her for telling me. I hope that telling me will help her get rid of some of the guilt she has been carrying. Now it looks more likely that I've got a lot to learn about myself. We'd better get on with the practice for Monday."

"Are you sure you want to?"

"No, I'm not sure. However, Mum said that Uncle James liked it, so why not give it a try."

"I don't think you should," said a very worried Helen. "You have been through a lot today and I don't think you need any more stress. Why don't we watch a movie or, since it has stopped raining, go for a walk?"

"Helen," I said with a deep sigh, "if I don't do this now, I might never do it. I need to understand myself. I've ran away from looking at myself for the last few years and I can't continue to do that. I have lots of questions which I don't know the answers to, this will help. If I don't like it then there is nothing wrong. At the end of the day they are just clothes, they won't change who or what I am. However, they might help me discover more about my soul."

"Okay," reluctantly agreed Helen, "then will you help me this evening?"

"It's a deal."

"Why don't you find the fake breasts that Rachel mentioned, while I find you an outfit? Is casual okay?"

"Fine. One of the draws next to the bed wasn't it?"

"Top draw I think."

In the top draw I found what looked like two breasts and something that looked like a pair of panties but felt slightly different. I took the breasts out first and examined them. I'd never seen breasts and they looked remarkable items. The nipple and bit around it looked slightly larger than mine but the colour of them appeared to match my skin remarkably well.

I looked at the panty and could place what was different about it. It just didn't feel like the ones I pulled out the washing machine when I helped Mum with the laundry.

Helen came out with a pair of panties, a bra, a denim skirt and a pale yellow top. "Are these okay?"

"I'm sure they will be fine. It's only you who is going to see me wearing them. I've found the breasts but there was something else there as well. I remember Rachel said there were two things but I don't understand what it is."

"Let's have a look," said Helen. I passed them to her and she looked at them. "Well they look like a very small pair of panties but they certainly feel different to normal panties. Do you think we should ask someone?"

"But who? I would feel embarrassed about asking."

"Why don't we ask Emma? Since she has been dressing as a girl for three years, I'm sure she will know what it is."

"Okay," I answered reluctantly, "I just hope it's nothing too embarrassing."

Helen whipped out her PDA and contacted Emma who promised to have a look. Five minutes later Emma arrived.

"Well, where's this mystery object?"

"Here it is," I replied flourishing the object in front of her face. "It was in the draw with the fake breasts."

Emma smiled. "A quick lesson in transgender speak is required. The 'fake breasts' are normally referred to as breast forms. The item you're waving in front of my nose looks like a gaff."

"A gaff?"

"A gaff is a special panty used to give a flat appearance when you wear female clothes. Before I go on are any of you two squeamish?"

"No," we replied simultaneously.

"Okay, now I'm sorry if this gets a bit personal but there is no other way to explain things. It's a two stage process. Stage one is to tuck all your attributes inside yourself. Stage two is where the gaff comes in. The gaff holds everything inside."

"But doesn't that hurt?" I asked wondering exactly how much you tuck inside. "Exactly what do you tuck inside?"

"Originally your testes were inside you, they drop down into your scrotum by a canal inside you. That canal is still there, all you do is push them back into this canal. You then tuck your penis back and the gaff holds everything in place."

"That doesn't sound very comfortable," commented Helen.

"You get used to it," shrugged Emma. "If you get pain when your pushing your testes back inside yourself then you're doing it wrong. Why don't Helen and I go next door while you give it a try?"

Helen and Emma disappeared and I attempted to manipulate myself. I had never really examined myself down there before and was unsure what to do. After five minutes, which seemed like fifty, I called "Emma, are you sure this is possible?"

"Of course it's possible," she called back from Helen's room. "Have you ever seen an unexpected bulge on me?"

"No," I called back, "but I'm not sure that you're actually a boy."

"I take that as a complement. Do you want some help?"

I didn't really want anyone seeing me naked, not even Helen. However, I knew not to sniff at an offer of help. "Okay, but please don't laugh."

"I won't," Emma replied, coming through the doorway with Helen.

"Ahhh," I screamed. "Helen isn't allowed to see me with my underwear off."

"I think that rule is there so you don't have sex," Emma replied. "I don't think that is likely with what we are doing. Go and lie on the bed, that way I should be able to get easier access."

I moved to the bed and lay down on my back. "This is the first time I've ever done someone other than myself," confessed Emma. "So this might take a few seconds to get the feel. Now Helen, watch carefully. Till David gets the hang of this you might need to help."

"Oh crap," I moaned. "This certainly isn't my day."

There I was, exposed on my bed being examined by two girls. No matter how I looked at Emma, I couldn't see anything male about her.

"By the looks of things you've started puberty," said Emma as she looked at me. "Have you started shaving yet?"

"No."

"Well that will make passing easier."

"Passing?" queried Helen.

"That is when nobody suspects that you're physically different from how you portray yourself."

"Oh. All these terms are very confusing."

Emma just shrugged, "You get used to them."

Emma gently messed with my genitals and soon she gave a grunt of success. "Does that feel okay?"

"Fine," I replied.

"Well I've moved your testes back inside you. Now I'll release you and let them float back out. Then Helen can have a try."

"Do we have to?" I asked totally mortified.

"Well try doing it again yourself. If you succeed then she won't need to help you."

Helen turned round but Emma watched me. She gave some hints and after a minute I succeeded.

"Well done," crowed Emma. "Now try again."

This time Emma kept quiet and in a short time I was done. There was no need for Helen to help. I kept everything in place with one hand and pulled up the gaff. Everything stayed in place.

"Thanks Emma," I said, giving her a small hug.

"My pleasure," she replied, with a smile. "I didn't have anyone to help me learn, so I know how difficult it can be. Don't be worried about asking me for help if you need any more hints."

"But aren't you worried about spoiling things for the competition?" queried Helen.

"Not really as I won't be entering for best female. I'll leave you to it. If you have any more questions just ask. Oh and watch out for the breast forms, don't get the left and right ones mixed up."

With that, Emma was gone. I picked up the breasts and looked at them hoping to see an L or an R indicating which way they went. There was not such indicator. I looked a bit closer and noticed there were subtle differences.

"Let me help you with the bra," offered Helen. "They are a bit tricky at first."

"Thanks," I replied. "I don't think I will need to get used to it."

"I'm sure they run more that one mix-up Monday a year. Jill implied there'd been a few since she started helping."

"Oh crap."

"For someone who says that clothes don't matter, you're taking this very personally."

I lurched to tickle her, but Helen was too nimble and stepped out of the way. "If you're not quick, there won't be time to change for dinner," Helen warned me.

"I'd rather miss dinner than show up dressed as a girl."

"I could carry you."

"True, but you'd end up sleeping alone."

"You know I wouldn't do anything to humiliate you. Now let's get you into this bra."

I slipped my arms through the straps and Helen fastened me in. I hope she's kind enough to let me out later. I don't think I could manage to reach the clips at the back. Helen took the fake breasts; no sorry breast forms, from me and looked at them.

"Oh these look good. They have a left and right version."

She reached across and popped them into the bra cups.

"I thought breasts looked the same on both sides," I said, showing my naivety.

"Have you never seen a pair of breast?" asked Helen.

"No." I was tempted to ask if she was offering but decided against it. "Have you ever seen a penis before today?"

"Touché."

I slipped on the skirt and pulled the top on. It seemed strange pulling the top over the mountains protruding from by chest.

Helen stood back and examined me. "Not bad, but the hair is less than desired. Let's add a wig and see how it works."

She returned from the wardrobe with two wigs, the first blond and the second auburn. Neither was my natural brunette.

"Why not brunette?"

"I thought it would be nice for you to look different."

She tried both the blond and auburn on but she wasn't happy with the look. Reluctantly she found a brunette wig which closely matched my colour

"That's you," she said as she stood back to look at me, her face all dreamy looking.

"Is this the way you thought of me?"

All she could do was nod. I just stood there and let her take me in. Eventually she came out of her trance and said, "There's something missing."

"Makeup?"

"No, shoes. You're at school, so no makeup is allowed. If I wore makeup at school, apart from a school dance, I'd get sent to wipe it off. You're only thirteen and don't need makeup. You might need something if you had to shave."

Again Helen retreated into my wardrobe and returned with a feminine pair of trainers. "These will be ideal."

Thank goodness Helen was being sensible and not having me wear high-heeled shoes.

"How do you feel," she asked pensively.

"Surprisingly I'm fine. I don't know why, but this feels okay. The wig is a bit heavy, especially in this hot weather."

"Do you want to see yourself?"

Now why didn't I think of that? Earlier, when I'd worn the blonde wig, it must have zapped all my brainpower. I moved over to the mirror and peered in. Looking back was a young version of my mother. I did look like a girl. I might not have been pretty but I certainly looked the part. Why couldn't I have looked like a boy dressed as a girl, then things might have been easier.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned round and Helen swept me into her arms, giving me the biggest kiss that I'd ever had. I felt week at the knees as the kiss drowned any sensible thoughts. My own passion began to rise, which didn't have a good effect in the gaff. Ouch.

"I love you Jayne."

Who's Jayne? Oh yeah that's the name I'd have been called if I'd been born a girl. "You can't call me..."

I was interrupted by the shrill harsh sound of the fire alarm bell ringing throughout the school. The continuous ringing signalled immediate evacuation.

I grabbed my PDA and it was flashing "Fire Alarm — NOT A TEST". I pressed the "Route" button for the PDA to guide us safely to the assembly point.

"Oh crap, I didn't get changed." I said as we walked quickly out of the fire door.