Whatever Next? Chapter 18 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

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(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The end of the week seemed to fly past and the day of reckoning—the first day of school, came closer. Drew decided he would wear a skirt, as Maddy and Jules agreed his legs were really good. Sometimes, when he looked at them, he wondered why they didn’t have the same muscle definition of the other boys and men in his previous cycling club. When he looked at pictures in his various cycling magazines, his physique looked more like Nicole Cooke than Lance Armstrong.

Tuesday morning arrived and he rose early to get in the shower first—Maddy was fuming, she’d had the same idea but Drew beat her to it. He washed his hair and after drying it pulled it into a high ponytail, holding it with a pink scrunchie.

Then he dressed in his undies, tights and uniform skirt and blouse. Maddy had convinced him to wear his black heeled shoes. She was right insofar as they made his legs look amazingly long and shapely. He did his light makeup, a touch of mascara and blue eyeliner, then some lip gloss. Pulling on his blazer, he searched in vain for a boy in the mirror, but he couldn’t see one—just a very pretty and shapely girl.

He was now filling a B-cup bra, which together with his tiny waist and burgeoning hips, gave him a very female looking body. He wondered how this could happen; he wasn’t taking any medication, so how could it happen? It seemed his body was turning female without his consent. He felt sad for a moment when he thought how his male contemporaries were developing facial hair, spots and deeper voices while he looked and sounded like a girl.

“Come on, Narcissus,” said Maddy pulling him from the mirror.

“I was just thinking…”

“Thinkin’ what?”

“Why I’m the only boy I know, with tits.”

“Oh, yeah, I mean it’s like your body’s gone into deep undercover to penetrate the world of schoolgirls.”

“Who wants to penetrate schoolgirls?” asked Jules, “some local perv?”

“No, Gabs was asking why her body is so like, female?”

“Erm, ‘cos she’s female?”

“No I’m not,” Drew fumed.

“You are for the time being, little sister, so be thankful for small mercies. Think how uncomfortable those falsies would be if you had to wear them every day.”

“D’ you think they caused me to grow boobs?”

“How should I know? Anyway, enjoy ‘em while you’ve got ‘em.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Drew was irritated by his sister’s remark.

“Well, if you decide later on to get rid of them or they mysteriously disappear ‘cos you turn into a boy or something, at least you’ll know what they felt like.”

“Turn into a boy or something? What do you mean, or something?”

“Nothin’, Gabs, now be a good girl and don’t get too many boys excited.”

“Ha ha, not.” Drew took his angry body downstairs where the smell of toast reminded his stomach he needed to feed it.

“Where does she put it all?” sighed Carol, watching the teen devour a bowl of cereal and two slices of toast and jam.

“I was pretty slim until I had the children,” said Josie, “maybe she takes after me.”

“What, she’ll put on weight after she has a couple of babies? I don’t think so, do you?”

“Can we change the subject please?” asked the blushing Drew, “or can you talk about me after I’ve gone to school?”

“Sorry, Gabs, you know we love you.” Josie smiled in embarrassment.

“Is Harry coming over for you?”

“No, we’ll meet at the bus stop; where did you put the passes?” Drew looked at Carol who looked perplexed. “Without passes, they won’t let us on the bus.”

They spent a frantic five minutes searching high and low for the bus passes, well all except Maddy, who knew where they were—in her bag. She was in the bathroom while pandemonium reigned in the house.

“Come on, Mad, we have to find the bus passes,” urged Drew from outside the door.

“Are they lost, then?”

“No, I’m just trying to worry you unnecessarily—course they’re bloody lost.” He shook his head feeling his ponytail waggle on the back of it.

“They’re in my bag.”

“Are you sure?”

“Unless someone has moved ‘em since last night.”

“ ‘Urry up, I wanna clean my teeth before we go.”

“Oh, alright,” Maddy pushed open the door.

“What yer bin doi—wow, like the eyes.”

Maddy’s eyelashes had apparently grown nearly a centimetre. “New mascara,” she said, omitting the fact it had been applied to the individual false lashes she’d been sticking alongside her natural lashes. She was secretly terrified that Gaby would command more attention than she did, a little jealous of her cousin’s prettiness. It was something that she knew Gaby would have neither the patience nor attention span to do. She had given up her breakfast for her looks, but had certainly made hers more striking.

Carol noticed the difference but chose to say nothing, at least, not in front of anyone, wondering if someone in school would save her the bother. Drew came back from cleaning his teeth and they grabbed their back packs and left together to walk to the bus stop. It was a bright September morning, but there was a slight chill in the air, which Drew noticed around his nether regions. The pleated skirt only covered half his thighs, and even with tights on, his legs felt chilled. His shoes click-clacked as they headed to the bus stop, but he walked quite well in them, despite their three inch, narrow heel.

Harry was waiting at the stop with William and two or three other kids Drew didn’t recognise. “Wow, you look sensational, I’ll never rubbish school uniforms again.”

“You look quite good yourself,” Drew said in response. “Hi, Will.”

“Gaby,” William said back, nodding.

“What has Maddy done to her eyelashes? They look as if they’ve been reproducing themselves,” Harry said quietly to his girlfriend.

“Yeah, I think she’s been like, rubbing manure into her face every night to make them grow. I wondered if I did the same to my lips, they’d look more sexy and kissable?”

“What rub shit on your mouth? No it wouldn’t like, make me wanna kiss ‘em, opposite if anythin’.” He wasn’t sure if Gaby was winding him up or what.

“Well, you haven’t objected so far, an’ I’ve been rubbin’ it on my boobs as well. Notice anything different?” Drew stuck his chest out, trying to contain the laugh which was desperately trying to escape.

Harry’s eyes nearly popped out on stalks. “Yer joking?”

“Do you think I’d do that to you?” Drew looked so innocent, his large blue eyes appearing incapable of any wrong-doing. Harry, however, was unsure. Surely such unsavoury methods couldn’t possibly work, could they?

The bus arrived as he was trying to work out if he was being conned or what. He sat next to Gaby, who looked out of the window trying to stifle the laugh. “There’s lots of collagen in it.”

“In what?” asked Harry.

“Manure.”

“Eh?”

“Collagen enhances things, like lips.”

“Oh, does it?” Harry wondered if maybe he should be rubbing it on something a bit lower down, because if she saw how small it was, she’d laugh at him. He’d noticed other boys and men who were wearing cycling shorts and how some of them appeared to have a banana stuffed down there or even a cucumber, whilst he had a miserable cocktail sausage.

“When we go in we have to go and speak to the office, Auntie Carol took us in a couple of days ago so they have most of our details, but presumably they’ll take us to our classrooms or whatever,” Drew said, looking at Harry before gazing out the window again.

“Yeah, most of the kids were told which class they’d be in at the end of last term. Do you know which one you’ll be in?”

“Not yet.”

“If it’s not the same as mine, then maybe we could meet up at break time and I’ll buy you a coke or somethin’.” Harry couldn’t wait to show off his beautiful girlfriend.

“That’d be nice, oh, and Harry, manure only makes roses grow, I was teasing you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he winked at her noticing she was blushing.

The early part of the morning went by in a blur, Gaby and Maddy were shown to the same class, much to the delight of the boys and concern of the girls. It was a different set to Harry’s. Like the other pupils, they moved around collecting books and other impedimenta which by break time was getting heavy in Drew’s teddy bear back pack.

He met up with Harry, who had a collection of people around him. Drew nearly shrank back, until Harry saw his love and rushed up and grabbed her, “If you mention cycling, I’ll never speak to you again. Understand?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to, other than you like to ride a bike.” He spotted Maddy standing on her own, “Maddy, come and join us,” he waved her over to emphasise his instruction. Having little alternative strategy, she complied.

He introduced the two girls to all his schoolmates, mainly boys but one or two girls.

“How did a babe like you get to know a prat like Palmer?” asked one boy who seemed to have several peoples’ share of spots.

“We live in the same village, Harry showed me around.”

“I’ll bet he did, well when you feel you need a bigger view, give me a shout.”

Harry waited for Gaby’s response. “I’ve got binoculars if I need a bigger view, thank you.”

Blushing the boy moved on to Maddy, “Another babe, how are you?”

“I’m alright, don’t all those spots hurt?” Maddy went straight for the jugular; “I like, just hate being called, ‘babe’, it’s so patronising,” she said after the boy had skulked off.

“So what do you do, interests and things?” asked a girl called Patsy.

“I cycle a bit,” Drew was very guarded.

“Oh yeah, isn’t ridin’ bikes a bit passé—like for kids.”

“Tell that to Nicole Cooke,” replied an irritated Drew.

“Who’s she?”

“Only the junior world champion women’s road race rider.”

“Never ‘eard of her.”

“That’s the problem with cycling, everyone knows the name of some overpaid, small brained bloody footballer, but no one knows about cyclists.”

“I do, I’ve ‘eard of Wayne Armstrong, the ‘Merican bloke,” Patsy puffed out her considerable chest.

“Lance Armstrong, winner of seven Tours de France.”

“That’s the bloke,” said Patsy, smiling inanely.

“Who’s the women’s world champion?” asked Maddy and Drew cringed inside.

“Dunno, not his wife is it?” Patsy was overreaching herself.

“No, it’s her mum.” Harry interrupted because he felt a bit cross that everyone didn’t seem to think Gaby was as lovely as he did.

“Your mother is a world champion cyclist?” said the gobsmacked girl. The attention of several others in the small group was now suddenly focussed entirely on Gaby.

“Yeah, she is.”

“Cor, blimey, we ‘ave royalty present. Don’t tell the school, they’ll have her here to present prizes.”

“She’s in Germany much of the time,” said Drew sadly.

“So you don’t, like see her much then?”

“She’s busy and so am I, we get together when we can.”

“What does your sister think; are you twins? Love the eyelashes by the way.”

“We’re cousins, I know Gabs misses her mum, but she’s very brave about it and her mum is an ace bike rider. We’re all proud of her.”

“So, are you gonna be a champion too?” Patsy asked.

Before Drew could answer in a very vague way, Maddy said, “She’s already a champion, and she won the race down here when that boy was killed.”

Several faces had gaping jaws, “What the one in Weymouth, on the esplanade?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” said Maddy glowing with pride.

“Blimey, that was hairy!” said a boy from behind Patsy, “She caught that gangster bloke too, Meadows or whatever, didn’t he escape?”

“A regular superhero,” said someone to Gaby’s right.

“Heroine, stupid.” The voice came from a girl on Gaby’s left.

A teacher came out and blew a whistle, break was over. “What happened to my drink?” Drew asked Harry.

“Here, he pulled a can out of his bag and gave it to Gaby and another to Maddy. They walked back to the school, sipping it and burping because of its fizziness.

“Why did you have to mention my mother and then that bloody bike race?”

“I thought they were giving you a hard time.”

“Course they are, we’re new, we stand out, and we have funny accents. Now we’ll really stand out. See that, someone just pointed at me, they know I won the bike race or that my mum’s world champ.”

“Sorry, Gabs, I didn’t think, they rattled me. I thought they were getting’ at you.”

“It’s okay, I suppose they’d have found out eventually, just don’t tell ‘em about me winning anything else, in case they check up on it.”

Maddy blanched, “Oh poo, they can now, can’t they? I mean the race in Weymouth.”

“That Dorwey one is okay, ‘cos I won it and the press coverage was pretty good, if they stop there, we’ll be alright. But be careful, an’ remember Harry doesn’t know either.”

“Oh that, yeah, I know that, so don’t worry about me.” As they went into the classroom, Drew was feeling anything but happy with Maddy, and he worried what she’d say next.

The next class was technology and the teacher, a Mr Curthoys, after taking the register said, “We’re going to have a look at inventions over the next few weeks. According to a recent poll, it was suggested that the bicycle was the most important invention. Interesting isn’t it? Not the wheel itself, or the computer or weaving loom or gunpowder, but the humble bicycle. How many of you lot have ever ridden one?”

Half the class raised their hands, including Drew and Maddy. “Ah, our newcomers have ridden a bike, have they.”

“Yes sir, we come from Warsop not Mars.” Drew wasn’t going to be patronised by this plonker, even if he was a teacher.

“Yes, very good, of course they used to make Raleigh bikes in Nottingham, didn’t they?”

“Before my time, they don’t make them there now.”

“I see, where do they make them, then?”

“India or China. Most modern bikes are made in Taiwan.”

“You seem to know a lot about bikes, young lady.”

“Her mother’s world champion,” called a voice from the back.

“Is that true, is your mother a world champion?”

Drew blushed like a geranium, “Yes, sir, Elite women’s road race champion.”

“What’s your name, again?”

“Mine, sir? I’m Gaby Bond.”

“You won that race along the esplanade where young Cheeseman got hit by the car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, Miss Dorwey Champion bike rider, what makes a bicycle so special, that it’s the top invention of mankind.”

“Me?” Drew pointed to himself.

“Yes, you, Miss, who better to tell us about bikes than a top rider.”

“Oh shit!” Drew muttered to himself, Maddy gripped his hand under the desk and squeezed in support. “Erm, the basic design is simple, easy to make, cheap to make and run, unless you get into the high tech end of things.”

“Keep it simple,” instructed the teacher.

“It’s capable of going almost anywhere on dry land, and of carrying quite heavy loads at times or pulling small trailers. Erm, it doesn’t cause pollution or use much in the way of oil, except as a lubricant and in the making of it. Erm, I like riding them, they’re a fun way of keeping fit.”

“Okay class, your homework tonight is to say why you think the bike was voted top invention, and if you agree with it. If you don’t, say what you think is better and why.”

He wrote this on the board and they all copied it down. “I expect a more comprehensive argument from our star rider,” the teacher said to Drew. “What sort of bike have you got?”

“An aluminium road bike.”

“The one you rode in the race?”

“No, sir, that got broken—it was carbon fibre—they don’t do impacts very well; it was worth a load of money being a design prototype: but it was a lovely bike though.”

“I’ll bet, what make?”

“Specialized.”

“Oh, American.”

“Some of the best bikes are: Specialized, Giant, Trek, Scott, Canondale.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.”

The bell went and a small group of kids surrounded Maddy and Drew outside the classroom. They wanted to know about having a world champion for a mother and one or two were interested in bikes.

“That was a happy coincidence for you, a lesson on bikes.”

“Like hell, I ride the bloody things, not design them and I certainly don’t want to write essays about them.”

“We can have a look on the Wiki when we get home,” Maddy suggested.

“Good idea. I wonder what’s for lunch, I’m starving’,” said Drew, feeling his stomach rumble.

The students' cafeteria was about the same sort of standard as Warsop College, offering anything with cockroaches or dry rot as main menu. They stood in the queue with Harry and William. “What do you fancy?” he asked Gaby.

“An Indian take away, why?”

“Oh, don’t think they do that here, and the wine list is pretty limited too.”

“Wonderful, now you tell me. I only came here because you said it had a cordon bleu restaurant with a quality wine list.” Drew said this in quite a loud voice, which got sniggers and laughs.

“What’s wrong with a McManure beef burger?” called a voice they couldn’t recognise, but with the mention of the ‘M’ word from the morning bus ride, Gaby and Harry fell into fits of giggling.

“What’s got into them?” asked William.

“Dunno,” said Maddy, “seems like, queuing does something to them, p’raps it’s the loss of blood to the brain, you know it’s all gone down to their feet.”

“Could be,” agreed William.

By the time the queue had moved enough for Harry and Gaby to see what was on the menu, they’d more or less recovered from their hysteria—until they saw a beef burger was on the menu.

“Is that genuine Jamie Oliver*?” asked Drew of the dinner lady.

“Very funny, now what are you going to have?”

“I’ll have the venison fricassee and pomegranate roulade, please, and could I see the wine list?”

“Yes, very funny, Miss Smart Arse, now what will it be, burger ‘n chips, fish ‘n chips or cheese salad.”

“Cheese salad with chips, and a bottle of spring water, please. If I give you my room number, can you stick it on the tab?”

“We have a right comedienne ‘ere, charge her double for the cheek,” commented the dinner lady.

Drew took his tray to the pay point, “You don’t do credit cards, do you?”

“No we don’t an’ if you don’t stop causing trouble, we’re gonna report you to the headmaster; is that all?” Drew nodded, “Two pounds and ten pence then.” Drew took his purse from his blazer pocket and paid the woman.

The four took a table together and as they were eating, several other kids came and introduced themselves, commenting on how they’d enjoyed the comedy show at the queue.

“For someone who’s trying to keep a low profile, you seem to going about it in a very strange way,” said Maddy as she ate her salad.

“Well, now I’ve like made an impact, the other kids will leave me in peace.”

“Nah, wait till they see you win the bike race with Bryanston School,” said Harry in between bites of his burger.

“What race is that, then?” asked someone from an adjacent table.

“Bryanston School have challenged us to a bike race,” beamed Harry, “but they don’t know we have a secret weapon.”

“Wassat then?”

“Jenny Bond’s daughter.”

“Who’s Jenny Bond?” asked the boy, named Cox.

“World champion bike racer,” answered Harry.

“What like Lance Armstrong?”

“Sort of, only a woman, obviously, and Gaby’s mum.”

“Does she ride the Tour de France then?”

“That’s a men’s race, yer pillock, but she’s won the women’s version, La Grande Boucle Féminine.”

“Never ‘eard of it.”

“Peasant,” snapped Harry.

“ ‘Ere, watch it unless you want some aggro.” Cox, stood up ready to fight.

Harry was about to respond with a similarly aggressive comment, when Drew stopped him. “Do you ride a bike?” asked Drew.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Well, bring it tomorrow and we’ll do an informal training session.”

“What! When?”

“After school, we need to build a team if we’re going to accept the challenge from Bryanston, bring some friends too—the more the merrier.”

“You gonna be ridin’ then?” asked the boy.

“I am, so will Harry.”

“What about your friend, is she like a bike rider, too?”

Maddy looked at the boy and then at Drew, “I might, if you come.”

The boy smiled and said, “Yeah, definitely, yeah count me in if you’re comin’.”

“Shouldn’t we have asked the games master first?” Harry asked quietly.

“If I hadn’t done that, he’d have been using your head for a punchbag. Now we may be able to use his aggression, instead.”

“Nah, I’d have been alright, I could take Cox, any day.”

“Harry, shut it, he’d eat you for breakfast. Just remember what he did to Barnaby, an’ he thought he was like, ‘ard—got the crap beaten out of ‘im. No, you did the right thing Gaby, get ‘im on yer side, no one’ll worry yer.” William said offering his take on the discussion.

“So who’s going to tell the games master?”

Harry looked rather embarrassed and agreed he’d go and do it.