Reluctant Diva 9
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 9 – A new life
The very next day, dressed in the checked skirt, plain blouse and cardigan which we had selected the evening before, Mom took me to school as promised. A moderate degree of makeup was allowed within the school’s dress code and I had carefully applied the fullest amount within those limits. My fingernails were painted a pale pink and my hair neatly arranged with bangs. We arrived early and after Mom’s interview with the principal I was left to my own devices.

Mom had been quite forceful in the meeting, making full play of the recent bullying to which I had been subjected. She had even got her way in that I was to be addressed as Jennifer by the staff. One sticking point had been the use of restrooms. Fortunately, to provide for special-needs children, one of the staff toilets was designated for their use and on Mom’s insistence I had been granted permission to use it for my own “special needs”. It would be a ‘relief’ to know that I wouldn’t need to use the girls’ restroom or undergo the ordeal of using the boys’ room!

My parent had warned me not to get isolated and I needed no reminding. Accordingly I hung around where other kids were milling about waiting for classes to start. After the buses arrived and discharged their load of students, how fully my appearance was altered was dramatically brought home to me. It was weird to see most of my former classmates walk right past me, evidently seeing only a new girl that they didn’t recognise. Karen was fully in the know, of course. Mom had phoned her, in the course of which it had been impressed on her that she was expected to be supportive. This support translated into a brief “Hi!” as she strode past me. After that she had as little to do with me as possible. But that suited me just fine.

At the beginning of my new homeroom lesson my ordeal began in earnest. What took place was what I had been dreading most, my introduction to the new class. As it happened it was a non-event, fortunately. The teacher Miss Baker announced “We have a new girl starting with us today, Jennifer Cartwright. I hope you will all make her welcome.”

There were some whispers and sniggers but even then not everyone got the fact that they actually knew me already, but as Robert. For those that did, indifference seemed to be the most common reaction. After all, it wasn’t the first time my fellow students had seen me dressed as a girl. When we split up for my first elective lesson, the topic was homemaking. Unsurprisingly there were no other boys attending that class and as I made my way down the corridor, I was accosted by three or four of the girls.

I was immediately faced with a barrage of questions and comments. “Why are you dressed like that?” “It’s sick!” “Yes, why?”

I’d expected this and after much deliberation had come up with a rationale that I thought might buy me some time. “Well, it’s simple. Nobody seems to be sure whether I’m a boy or a girl. It wasn’t working being a boy so now I have to try being a girl.”

This was greeted by looks of shock and disbelief but at least I was allowed to walk on while they put their heads together to debate my reply and I reached the classroom without further inquisition. The rest of the day turned out to be similar. Most people didn’t seem to notice me and the rest avoided me. Perhaps I might survive till tomorrow! The lunch break was the part I was most fearful of but it was then that I actually got some welcome support. Chris saw me standing in the line and came and stood next to me, chatting and asking me how my morning had gone. A popular student as he was, I appreciated he was risking being ostracised himself by associating with me. I told him so but he simply shrugged.

He sat with me all through lunch and while we got some hostile stares, it had the desired effect as far as I was concerned. There was nothing worse. At the end of the day Chris was waiting to meet me after my final lesson. He walked me to the school gates where there was a welcome respite from my overcharged feelings when I saw Mom’s car parked up. I thanked him twice over and got in beside her. As I watched him turn back for football practice I felt some concern over what sort of reception he might get from the rest of the team because of me. He was too good a friend for me to allow him to lose out for my sake. I found it impossible to reach any sort of conclusion about this while answering Mom’s barrage of questions on the drive home. It wasn’t until later that I had the opportunity to marshal my thoughts about it. The decision that I came to was that I ought to try and fight my own battles in future.

The following day was a pattern of the day before. I was mostly successful in avoiding comment from my classmates and even being noticed. Karen ignored me completely and a lot of the others followed her lead. So while I didn’t get any active support from her, the overall result was actually to my benefit. All I really wanted to do was to just survive! At lunch Chris joined me in the line as on the day before but I’d made up my mind I wasn’t going to drag him down with me.
After we’d been chatting a few minutes I asked the question uppermost in my thoughts. “Will you be able to walk me to the gates again today?”

“Sure thing. No problem!” he said.

“Thanks. Now, I want to see if I can get through lunch on my own. Is that okay?”

He looked puzzled.
“It’s gotta happen sometime. I’ll be okay. You go and sit with your usual crowd.” I smiled with a confidence I didn’t really feel.

“Really? You sure?”

“Yes, sure. See you later, Chris.”

Hesitantly he made off and I was glad to see him join his friends in another part of the line. The hall was already nearly full when I went to find a table. There were empty spaces at one near the front that was always last to be filled, due to its proximity to the staff table. As I made my way over there, I stumbled and almost fell. My lunch went skating across the floor and as I tried to save myself from accompanying it, my skirt went flying up to reveal my girdle clad bottom.

There was a loud hoot of laughter and I realised as I recovered my balance and went to retrieve my lunch that I’d been deliberately tripped up. Not wishing to make a big thing of it, I didn’t look around to see whose foot had caused my stumble, but hastened over to my chosen seat. However, the perpetrator of the crime was not so lucky as to escape the consequences. My lunch pail had landed at the feet of Mr Grainger, the vice-principal. He was on supervision duty that day and had been ideally placed to witness the whole thing. Though I tried to appear not to notice, out of the corner of my eye I could see him standing berating one of Lee’s cronies. I could hear the terms “disgusting”, “respect” and “the weaker sex” floating across the hall to me. His lecture terminated with heavy emphasis on the word “detention”!

I seated myself at the table and hastily occupied myself with eating my lunch. When finished I slipped away from the dining hall as unobtrusively as I could and made my way to the library. There at least I might have a chance of staying safe until classes started again. I chose a book to read more or less at random and seated myself by the librarian’s desk for added security. Looking more closely, I realised that I’d picked Virginia Woolf’s “Orlando” as reading material, of all things!
Oh well! It figures!

I was glad when I left my final class at the end of the day to find Chris waiting there to walk me to Mom’s car. At the end of the following day the same welcome sight greeted me. As there was no ball practice that afternoon, he accepted the ride home which we offered him. We stopped outside the Bennett’s house for him to alight and as he did so I realised I was getting a series of significant glances from my parent. She seemed to be motioning with her head in his direction while giving me a sideways glance at the same time.

“What?” I breathed, somewhat mystified as to her meaning.

“Aren’t you going to thank your friend nicely, Jennifer?” she hinted. In our family, the word ‘nicely’ meant that the ‘thank-you’ would be accompanied with a hug or a kiss, so at last I understood her signals. While I wasn’t in any way disinclined, I felt bashful about doing something so personal under my parent’s prompting and gaze. Shyly I got myself out of the car and trotted across to where my friend was standing, an inquiring smile on his face.

“I just remembered that I hadn’t said thank-you.” I felt really awkward, conscious that I had coloured to the roots of my hair.

Chris looked equally confused. “Oh…. Er…. No big deal.”

When I got out of the car I had fully intended to plant a kiss on his cheek (again!) but the moment had passed, it seemed. We shook hands rather lamely, instead. He turned with a wave and I resumed my seat. If my mother was disappointed in the banality of this outcome she was careful not to show it. In any case I was able to satisfy her with a detailed account of my day, as we drove the rest of the way.

When we got home, I went to put on my uniform before going to Mrs Martin’s. While thus engaged, I couldn’t get thoughts of my protector, as I thought of him, out of my mind. Imaginings of what might have happened if Mom hadn’t been there watching our every move kept recurring. Eventually in desperation I took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom. I had to get some release from the pent-up energy that was coursing through my confused body. Suffice to say that ten minutes later I felt completely relaxed, though I had to hurry to complete my change of clothes. When I ran downstairs I could see that Mom was looking at me inquisitively. No doubt she was wondering at the delay, but I was out the door before her curiosity could be translated into actual questions.

My following day at school was largely uneventful. I had been counting on remaining invisible and my hopes seemed to be fulfilled for all the attention I was receiving. I continued to tread carefully and by the end of the week I had started become more confident, although as it turned out, all too soon. It was in the family planning class on the Friday that things fell apart. The format of these lessons was first a text which the teacher read out from her course book, followed by a time for questions and discussion. There were two or three boys taking the class, but the majority of the students were girls, as might be expected in those unenlightened times.

The subject material of the lesson that day dealt with the benefits to be had from family planning. The text seemed easy to follow, but pretty boring, and I was not the only one in the class who had trouble concentrating. It was at question time that the trouble started for me. Shirley Addison, one of the more confident girls in the class and a friend of my past self, had been staring at me all through the lesson.
The teacher was also our homeroom teacher, Miss Baker, and she had picked up on the girl’s inattention. To remedy it she directed the opening question at her. “Now Shirley, what do you understand as the main benefit described here?”

There was a lengthy pause in which I could almost see the girl’s mind whirling to fix on a suitable reply. The outcome of her deliberations was unfavourable as far as I was concerned.

Outspoken as she generally was, her eventual response was no exception on this occasion. “Well I can see the benefits for women,” a pause, “and for men but” pointing at me “what has it to do with freaks like her… him… it?”

There was a buzz around the room that seemed to show that she wasn’t alone in thinking along these lines.

“Shirley! That is no way to refer to a classmate! That is most unkind. Apologise to er.... Jennifer, please!” The teacher sounded genuinely shocked.

“Sorry” the girl chanted insincerely. Then “I still don’t see what ‘she’ is here for!”

“Well now” Miss Baker strove to regain control. “We are all here to learn. This isn’t just about conceiving or not conceiving children, but also how we can define the needs of families and provide for those needs.”

Although as she went on, her explanation became more and more vague and seemed to wander from the crucial point, at least its length was of benefit. As the class’s attention level dropped once more, the uncomfortable situation was defused. At the end of the lesson, Miss Baker asked me to stay behind. She began “I hope you realise that it will take time for your classmates to accept the changes you are undergoing and have undergone.”

I shifted my weight uncomfortably, “I guess.”

She continued “I think you will be well advised to play down these sorts of incidents as much as you can; at least while everyone adjusts. I do sympathise with the pressures you have been facing but please let this one go rather than make an issue of it.”
It dawned on me that she might be concerned over the fuss my mom would make if what had passed got back to her. Why not?! She could be scary!

I nodded my assent and the teacher looked relieved. Once dismissed I made my way to my next class with some food for thought. Life hadn’t got any less complicated. The reverse was true, but I couldn’t see any choice other than to continue going to school as a girl.

The lesson was just starting as I arrived and I quickly found a seat next to Dennis’s sister, Sandra. Her brother had fallen out with me when I had briefly rebelled against everything girlie after my visit with Dad. One of his pipedreams he’d shared with me had been to open his own hair salon and apparently having my hair cut so brutally short had particularly offended his sensibilities; that and my uncompromising attitude. This tiff had never been mended and as a result I was uncertain how his sister would behave with me on this occasion, but she actually looked pleased to see me and gave me a big smile. It was good to have even one friendly face after the ordeal of the previous class and the lesson went okay. Counting as I was on Chris to see me safely to Mom’s car at the end of the day, I could be hopeful that I had survived probably the most stressful week of my school life.