It felt like Ms Greenwood and Adam had been staring at me for ages. Time had stopped moving forwards, and I was stuck in this incredibly embarrassing and uncomfortable moment. I knew this whole arrangement was going to be awkward, but I had not expected it to hit me like a brick wall.
“Right then,” said Ms Greenwood. “Sam, I can see you’re not quite ready, but Adam, are you done?”
“I was ready ages ago, Miss”, replied Adam. “Don’t understand why we had to come down here so early. I was going to pop into town after school, with the rest of the lads.”
Ms Greenwood clearly didn’t like her timing plan being questioned, as she folded her arms and turned her gaze to Adam, and sharply responded, “Well, if you’re ready, go. Go on. Head up to assembly hall, where the rest of the boys will be getting ready.”
Adam, not picking up on her mild frustration, just looked back at her, a bit confused. “But, it’s not even 4 o’clock yet. Aren’t they coming over here to get changed?”
Again, Ms Greenwood didn’t appreciate the questions. “No. They’ll be getting ready by the stage, and will be arriving about now. Remember, we said we’d start at 4. And it was just you two getting ready down here.”
“Sparing us ‘girl’s’ our modesty, Miss?” Asked Adam, cheekily.
“Tell the rest of the boys we’ll be over shortly, to start on time,” instructed the teacher, completely ignoring Adam’s other comment.
Once Adam left, time failed to move any quicker. It felt like Ms Greenwood resumed her staring at me, and I didn’t get any more comfortable. It felt like I had made a massive mistake.
“It looks like you’re nearly ready, Sam. Is that right?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss. I just need to put my dress and shoes on,” as I stood there with a fully made-up face, a brushed wig and a dressing gown on. “My make-up has taken most of my time so far.”
“Why didn’t you get dressed and then do your makeup? Which is looking incredibly good, by the way. Have any tips on how to do that so quickly?” she said with a sympathetic smile. “Sam, I don’t want to be nosey, or make you feel uncomfortable, but, have you done this before?”
“No! Of course not. I’m just trying to do things as well as I can.” I spluttered, somewhat defensively.
It was now Ms Greenwood’s turn to feel uncomfortable “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that, it’s none of my business. And yes, you’re definitely trying very hard, there’s no doubt of that. And sorry, it’s just a much better job than in all my years of plays at this school, I’ve ever seen any boy do before. Have you had any help?”
“That’s okay Miss. But yes, my sister has been helping me. It’s all down to me today, though,” surprising myself with how proud that statement sounded. “It was her that suggested I put my underwear on first, then wear a dressing gown, and then do my makeup. Her reason sounded sensible at the time; something about getting makeup on my costume. Also about removing the chances of any boys seeing my bra and panties. Perhaps I misunderstood – there’s been so much information to take in.” I answered, feeling a bit more comfortable about things.
“Bra and panties? Right, I see. I think. Well, she must have been a great help, if this is your first time dressing in women’s clothes. Not, erm, sure I fully understand the second reason though, and your, erm, underwear. Anyway, let me know if you need any help with your dress, and then when you’re ready to go.”
I sensed that Ms Greenwood had more questions, or hadn’t got out what was on her mind. Once she had left the changing room I quickly put on my black dress, and strapped my feet into the high heeled sandals. After a check and pose in the mirror, I was ready to go.
My sister really had been a huge help to me in preparing for this. Yes, both her and my Mum teased me fiercely when they learnt what role I had been cast in. Beyond being their brother and son, the only other thing they’d have previously known me as was a tough rugby player, albeit a small one. Once the teasing passed, my sister even came back from university a handful of times, to help me out.
Why, I do not know. Perhaps she enjoyed having me as a life-sized Barbie doll. But it felt more than that. She has always impressed on me that ‘if something is worth doing, then it is worth doing properly’. Definitely something I could have once imagined my Dad saying, and he’d be proud of her for living his values. Not so sure he’d have been as proud of me playing a girl in the school play, as he was when I was selected for the county rugby team.
As part of my sisters plan for ‘doing it properly’ was instruction on how to apply my own makeup, followed by repeated attempts to get it right. Late night Facetime make-up tutorials wasn’t how I thought I’d be spending my time, when I signed-up for drama club. There was then plenty of walking around the house in high heels of all sorts of styles and heights, and what felt like hours of modelling different costume options; I think I must have tried on most of my sister’s clothes, to nods of approval or headshakes of displeasure from my Mum and sister support team.
That was, before my sister decided that the third costume brief needed a new dress, and a shopping trip. At the time, I thought my sister asking a shop assistant at a boutique dress shop to show her brother to the fitting rooms was as weird as things could get, but what later grew to feel much stranger was the weird feeling that I’ve worn her new dress before her. However, if she needed an excuse to treat herself, then so be it - although, her little brother needing a little black dress isn’t the most mainstream of reasons.
“Okay, Sam, time to go”, said Ms Greenwood, knocking on the changing room door.
“Has she been waiting outside?” I thought to myself. Perhaps she was uncomfortable being in the changing rooms at a boy’s school.
Stepping out of the changing room, and into the main school corridor, Ms Greenwood smiled warmly at me, tilting her head to the side and putting her hands together in front of her chest.
“Well, Sam, I’ve heard what you said about dressing up, and I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I must say – you look absolutely stunning. That dress. Wow. You, and your sister, should be really proud of how hard you’ve clearly worked on your prep.” Stepping towards me and putting her hands on my upper arms, she added, “And for that, thank you, it’s really appreciated.”
I could feel myself getting warm, and think my face must have been turning red.
“Erm, that’s okay. You’re welcome?” Not fully sure what I was being thanked for.
“Let’s go,” said the teacher, turning on her heels, and heading up the parquet floored corridor.
I followed, half a step behind, my high heeled sandals echoing down the corridor with each small step. Ms Greenwood slowed, looking more at my feet than where she was going.
“You look pretty comfortable in those sandals. What are they, like three or four inches?” she asked.
“I’ve been practising quite a bit. And, erm, I have no idea. Er, yeah, about that, I’d guess.”
“They look good, and your painted toe nails look good in them,” she said, with a grin.
I didn’t know what to say to that. But then my phone beeped several times in my hand. Raising it up, I saw that I’d received three new WhatsApp messages.
“Matching stick-on finger nails, too?” Asked Ms Greenwood, on seeing my hands around the phone.
I took that as a rhetorical question. If it wasn’t, again, I didn’t really know what to say.
The messages had all just come through as I picked up a signal. The gymnasium changing rooms are a signal blackspot, and these messages had been sent over the past 30 minutes.
“Good luck, ‘Little Sis’ ;)” from my Sister. “See you tonight, as I’m back for a couple of days, xxx”.
“Break a leg, Sam! Send me pics. X”, from my Mum
“Going to The Station later?” from my mate, and fellow rugby player, James
I lowered the phone after reading. I needed to concentrate on this slippy, polished floor, and these nails made it difficult enough to unlock the phone, let alone type.
“Just my Mum and Sister wishing me good luck,” I told Ms Greenwood, to break the silence.
“They can’t say that!” Ms Greenwood laughed out. “It’s ‘break a leg’ in the theatre world.”
“Ha, yeah!” I acknowledged. Not sharing that’s what my Mum had said. “My Mum also wants me to take some pictures, too.”
“Do you want one now?” asked Ms Greenwood.
“I think she wants ones of the cast. You know, during the rehearsal. Behind the scenes style.”
“Hmm, maybe. However, I think she’d like to see how good a job you’ve done on your costume. Come on, let’s get one now, before we forget later. Give me your phone.”
I nodded my agreement, and passed her my phone.
“Over here,” gestured the teacher, “Against the staircase railings. The older parts of this school are so beautiful, they’ll make a lovely background.”
I shuffled over to the railings, and followed Ms Greenwood’s direction.
“Ha ha! That’s hilarious.” I laughed out. “You’ve got me looking like an Instagram influencer. I look like a clown!”
Ms Greenwood laughed along. “Good, because that’s what I was going for. Sorry, just teasing.”
We both laughed.
“Send that to your Mum. If you can type with those nails.”
Smiling broadly, “Yes, I can just about manage, Ms Greenwood.”
“Sam, you can call me Sarah. At least when the others aren’t around.”
“Okay, Sarah.”
